Hi everyone, Orakle, honoured to bring you the 26th chapter of this story !

First, while Chapter 27 will come out in time, 28 might take a bit more time, sorry about that.

Also, normally this chapter shouldn't have review restriction, so that's pretty good.

Anyway, speaking about reviews, here are the answers.

-doomqwer: At first I wanted to send you a PM in response but I couldn't, then I forgot and here we are. Interesting, so 'God' has latent abilities, hehe. Yup, they should be careful, SRA are one of the most terrifying weapons ever created by the Foundation.

-LordGhostStriker (Chapter 4): I don't really know why you don't show up in the reviews, but I can still see it thanks to the mail. Sorry if that bothered you, why though?

-Awardedall: Psychologically, I'd say this is the most recent trauma, who changed him, even a bit. From a literal point of view I'd say this is to show that he has overcome this grief. But, you are right, maybe if he had been exposed more time they'd have shown up. It was kinda a mistake too to begin a story beyond a point that I didn't know about.

-bootlegwat: Thank you, it's true that their... word count is unequal and it will continue like that, I think.

-Mr.X

1. As stated before she has no romantic interest in Touma, though she seems to share something.

2. In a way, but The Administrator's isn't exactly the most sane of men, neither are his advice on love sound and safe. His words are his own, from the not mine. And while having a relationship with twins, if they consent, isn't a problem at all, I won't do such a thing.

3. Gigi is simply a pet name. While they do have Lybian origins, their true culture are their Churches' and their current name are their true ones.

4. Lol. So soon? Eh.

5. Rules apply in one universe, but not obligatory the other. A different magic system means different kind of power restriction and allowance. Well, that's up for critic but hey, it kinda does the job.

6. I don't really remember where I saw this, but I saw that Orhinus called Misaka 'Sparky'. Or maybe I was mistaken... But Railgun is too respectful for someone as teasing and easygoing as post GREMLIN Othinus.

7. Her identity will be revealed, and what has been done to her too.

8. I doubt Touma will even dare drink a single drop of alcohol near 953 ever again.

9. Dunno, probably not.

10. There is something written, but what it is... he.

Danurio12: Thanks! Don't worry I like all reviews. As for 1983, unfortunateluy, it's not the 'lol left you in a mall' but rather 'lol you stuck here forever!' but I could have changed that, maybe. But well, he'll have his 'fun'. Well, for God, who knows, personality disorder and all. Also happy that you liked him.
Ah Misaka Mikoto and co, so much tribulation to come.

Now for the story!

Site Director Reynard Kear finally completed the form he had been working on, putting it on a neat pile of other papers. He stretched, fully enjoying the feeling when something poked him on the ribs. He yelped as the unpleasant feeling sent him a little shock due to the his sensitive skin. His chair rolled a bit to the right due to the impulsion.

He felt the things that poke him, sharp and cold, press itself against his throat. A sword. He looked, only to see a woman with a long coat and wide-brimmed hat. She was draped in shadows, making identification impossible, but he recognized her with a single look.

"Opera, what are you doing here?" He asked, not showing an ounce of fear. "Also, could you not tickle me?" He puffed his cheeks.

"Why?"

"You'll have to be more precise, eh." He replied with a relaxed smile.

"Why did you make him drink?"

"If you're talking about Kamijou Touma, well, poor lad seemed like he needed some booze, he was right shaken up."

He felt her frown, and the tip of the sword pressed slightly more, not drawing blood but quite close to.

"That was irresponsible of you, the consequences c-"

"Hey, hey, I won't do it again, alright, wouldn't want to turn the young man into some poor alcoholic sop. I knew he wouldn't do anything that would endanger him, I profiled him. And if you're on about the incident with 953, don't worry that got sorted out, she's under heavier security." He explained.

"I hope so. Or you will have to face consequences." She threatened.

The blade was slightly withdrawn, though he was still under threat, the sharp steel still hovering near him. His face was split by a wide and confident smile, as he spoke.

"Oh, I'm not worried."

He could feel her eyes analysing every inch of him, inspecting him, to see how much of a threat he would be.

"As you know, the appearance belies the abilities."

The two stayed silent for a minute, which felt like an eternity, before, finally, Opera lowered the sword, and in the blink of an eye sheathed it. She let out a small sigh, before crossing her arms over her waist.

"Nobody, except the Administrator knows what you are Kear." She sighed. "What are you?"

"This hurts me." He took an offended expression. "What, not who? Such rudeness coming from the Foundation's top agent." He shook his head, disapprovingly.

"Don't play with me, Kear." She growled, awaiting an actual answer.

His only response was a smirk.

"Darts?" He asked taking out a pack of cigarettes. "You seem stressed."

"First, what kind of people calls cigarettes 'darts'? Second, no thanks." She said, apparently accepting his casual refusal.

"Did you want anything else?" He questioned, lighting a 'dart' for himself. "If not, I have better things to do." He brazenly said.

The disapproving gaze came back but she said nothing, taking a few steps back, before the shadows she was draped in seemed to swallow her, and then, she was somewhere else. Kear kept dragging on his cigarette for a few seconds before letting out a long-relieved sigh, slumping on his desk.

"Shit, I was about to wet my gotch. Holy, I nearly died there." He put a hand on his still racing heart.

Serving himself a generous glass of alcohol, he drank it quickly, calming himself. He was thankful for being pretty good at bluffing. After all, he was a normal human, nothing more, doctored in sociology and paediatric as well as psychotherapy. Alright, yeah, he had a pretty rich family, allowing him to pursue studies as he liked, but he wasn't a supernatural being. He had tried thaumaturgy twice only to fail, hard.

If Opera really wanted to kill him, he would have been powerless to prevent it. He had met the Administrator's top agent once before. She was serving as a bodyguard for the Administrator as he, exceptionally, came for an inter-organisation meeting. He would later learn that an entire division of Chaos Insurgency Sigma troops, simple light infantry, an armoured battalion and five of their Special Operation Squads had been deployed, parachuted or by teleportation, to kill all the leaders.

Evidently, they had failed, but what he learned, slightly later was that the bodyguards of the other organisations hadn't fought off the Insurgency. The Insurgency had retreated after suffering thirty percent losses, the average breaking point of most armies, only against her. The rest had decided to surrender, unwilling to die at her hands or to continue to fight for the CI. They had been executed. A few, especially the commanders, engineers and Special Operators had escaped. This defeat had badly hurt the Insurgency, leaving them to bleed dry for a few years. This had been passed under silence, no other organisations knew about it, the Insurgency's attack had been kept a secret and the existence of this woman too.

The Insurgency never spoke about it, apparently unwilling to admit their unsavoury tactic, unwarranted aggression on a peaceful meeting was very frowned upon, and to admit their spectacular defeat.

For now, however, he was safe. He just hoped it would continue like that. He had to continue his bluffs. He had many enemies in the Foundation, people who considered his way as some kind of heresy. He had received threats, vocal and written. He was a normal human and a pacifist, he disdained violence. But you know what they said, si vis pacem parabellum, if you want peace prepare for war. The problem was that there was no way he could ever hope to beat those who wanted his head, he didn't have any weapon for deterrence, so he had to make one up one.

He was lucky that the Administrator owed him big time for that time he avoided another scission in the Foundation, concerning that country. Or not, if someone else asked him. He had requested for most of his records and information to be kept secret at all costs, and for those that remained to be counted as false. With this, he only had to use his knowledge of human psyche as well as his charisma to sow doubt into everyone's mind. For many, he was someone not to joke with, someone with immense power, for others he was a pawn, a proxy which couldn't be touched for it would incur the wrath of a or multiple very powerful persons. Or sometimes it was a mix of both.

His only weapons were words, his only shield was the favour The Administrator owed him. All in all, he had a very fragile power base.

He was shaken out of his analysis when his phone rang. A direct call, uh? That must have been important.

"Yes? Site Director Kear, listening." He said. "Ah, yes... You found him?... Good... Yes... Of course... Rest and relax but keep an eye on him... Yes, I'll pay the hotel fee... Don't abuse the mini-bar Atsushi, eh... Yeah, yeah... buy me a souvenir, alright, oh and tell Ryuuji I can see what he is actually buying with that credit card" He smirked as he heard chuckles and a choked sound on the other end of the line. "... Yeah, bye."

He hung up before dialling a number.

"Yes, hey Administrator proxy, I got some news... yeah, yeah I know, I can't call you that... thing is we found it... Yes Subject IB-0-NTV... yes, theory confirmed... yes... I'll launch searches for the others... yes, I'll tell Researcher Lerouge... Of course... But what about the Subject?...I'll see... Of course, I'll tell them. Good day."

He sighed. What a world. He transmitted the orders to his agents.

A CERTAIN SCP

His Holiness Father Robert Bumaro contemplated the farm serving as a receptacle for SCP-1983. He gripped his war hammer tightly, a frown crossing his delicate but metallic face. Everything that the Foundation and the Initiative told him only leads to one thing. The two adepts of the Broken God and the Calamity were lost forever. He wanted to scream but he couldn't, he had to maintain a certain dignity in front of the other factions.

Bright, Light and the rest of the scientific staff were packed up and preparing to depart. Mishimoto had tried to stall it or simply stop it. It had been useless, there was no reason to stay here. Officially, the Imagine Breaker was considered Missing In Action, and would after a certain time be classified Killed In Action.

She was sitting on a crate, her gaze fixed on that house. That damn house. Of course, the thing that would take one of the only people she had to managed to get close to would be a house. A house! She sighed, she was getting emotional.

If she listened to her instinct she would be barging in that thing and would be searching for the young SCP at this instant. However, restraining herself was an important part of her job and personality. If he and the people accompanying him were not up to the task, how could she be? She was a shrink, and she heavily doubted the things roaming in there would be interested or defeated by therapy.

To resume, she was once more useless.

She still did believe he would get out, with that goofy smile he now rarely mustered, and everything would move on. The pragmatic and idealist parts of her being were locked in a struggle. For now, her idealist part was, like often, the winning one. But as time passed, she felt her pragmatic and more analyst part gaining terrain. The evidence became overwhelming, crushing her beliefs and hope.

She looked at the house.

Wait.

It wasn't here.

Her eyes shot up. Where once stood a worrying and ancient farm, there was only air, dirt and cut canalisations. There was also something that gave her immense hope, a group of men in dark robes, the soldier of the Holy Order of the Last Salvation, swords drawn, looking quite confused.

Multiple people rushed to where they were, even the coppery angel, Robert Bumaro flew to them. Of course, she was amongst the first near them. They were disorientated, not really knowing where they were at first, before realizing they were saved. Most kneeled or prostrated, offering genuine gratefulness to their deity.

They soon realized that they were surrounded and began to interact, mostly with their comrade. Mishimoto for her part was trying to retrieve Touma but to no use. He wasn't here. The same thing happened with Bumaro, this one was trying to find Logika and Data, but to no avail.

It was definitely over, thought the two. Touma and the twins had disappeared forever in another dimension or had been killed and... had been eaten or something such as this. Many things could happen in such places.

Light and the leaders of the Holy Order began to interrogate the soldiers. They soon learned that they had been separated early. Light and the other persons of importance debated for a bit before finally concluding:

"Mishimoto!" Called Bright. "We're leaving."

Her eyes sadly dimmed as she turned her head to where the farm had been.

"So, he is really..." She muttered.

"It's still not sure, we're departing to confirm our theory."

"A theory?" She asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Yes, he might be back to the US, in Wyoming." Explained the senior researcher.

"What?"

While those words gave her a comfortable hope to cling to, it was still hard for her to comprehend why he would be in Wyoming of all thing.

"Long story short, there was another SCP-1983 before, back in Wyoming. It was cleared some years ago. Maybe the two were connected and they ended up there. We have units that we'll mobilize to search for them, but we'd like to be there ASAP."

She nodded and, without needing to be told twice, she began to prepare for immediate departure. She could only hope.

A CERTAIN SCP

"Shouldn't we have reached the outpost at that point?" Asked Data.

"I don't know!" Was Touma's response.

Logika sighed, rubbing her face in her palm. They had been walking for a good hour to the West, night had fallen, their feet treading on yellow grass while the horizon was only mountains and hills. The place they had left looked like a large plain where a ranch had been removed from existence. There were cut canalisations, cables and other things as well as the imprint of the building.

For now, they only knew that they were in the United States, the state of Wyoming more precisely. Wyoming... what did she know about Wyoming? ... Buffaloes? Too bad none of them knew anything about the state.

For now, they were blindly walking westward, following the indications of a mad and deceased man. Speaking of him, Logika threw a sideways glance to Touma, who was carrying the corpse. It had been a good hour of walking with a limp adult human in his arms, he was probably getting tired.

"Would you prefer if I take over carrying him?" She asked in a gesture of goodwill. "My augmentations make me fitter for this task."

It was true, lacking the capacity of feeling pain and fatigue in certain parts helped in such cases, especially when one also possessed superior strength. He was about to reply by the negative when Data intervened.

"Oh, I can if you want!"

The Maxwellist tried to reach for the corpse, and while she was not eager to really touch the corpse body she was still willing to help the SCP as well as to avoid passing as rude. In hindsight, she should have proposed to do this at the beginning.

"There is no need for that." Waved off the Cogwork Orthodox.

"Don't worry, I am more than able to carry him."

Logika frowned beneath her ample hood. Could she just not bother her?

"Don't bother yourselves, I 'll do it." She replied, her voice began to take a cold edge.

Now, it was Data's face's turn to take an irritated expression. It wasn't important? Couldn't Logika just let go? Apparently not as her sister insisted once more. She coldly retorted. Logika riposted. She too.

Touma's eyebrow raised as the two sisters began to descend into bickering about carrying a corpse. He did not intervene, the last time he did that kind of thing he only worsened the situation. For now, this cowardly Kamijou would just wait it out. In the end, he just slung the 'God' around his shoulder to relieve his weary arms.

They kept walking as the discussion turned more and more heated. Touma, drowning out the noise realized they were approaching a forest, it was composed of tall conifers, spruces and pines. His flashlight, that he had borrowed from Data, showed that there was a sign about a ranger station about a hundred metres in the forest if he guessed right.

"Hey, look that maybe it!" He attracted the attention of the two women to the sign.

They broke out of their heated discussion and instead switched their focus on the sign ahead. 'National Park Ranger Station ~350 feet away.' It was rather old and worn with some lichen growing on it.

"That's maybe the Foundation base." He said with spirit.

"But what if it's a simple Ranger outpost?" Questioned Logika.

"Well, we can reach the modern world, I suppose." Proposed Data. "From that point, we'll be able to contact the Church and then the Foundation."

"Speaking of the modern world, can't you contact people with your network?" Asked Touma.

She shook her head with a grimace. He noticed, slightly indignant, Logika's collected expression turn into a smug one, a corner of her mouth tugged upward.

"You seem to have tampered with it, somehow, it uses supernatural material, you may have destroyed some part." She revealed. "B-but don't worry it's fixable." She hurriedly added as he took a distressed expression.

He sighed with relief as he realized it wasn't going to leave the young woman cut off from her community forever.

"Anyway, let's go."

"Wait." Interrupted Logika. "I-I need to change."

She was answered by surprised and questioning looks. Her usually imperious face was broken by a light blush and fleeing eyes. This only accentuated the look she was getting. She slightly dipped her head, hiding her face and began to fiddle with her halberd.

"I can't stay in those robes. They'll wonder and instigate what I am! They'll get suspicious!" She explained, embarrassed.

Oh yeah, that made sense, thought Touma. He simply nodded, but Data let out a small snicker. A dark glare came her way, but she kept a little smirk on the corner of her lips. With a huff, she departed to the thick treeline, before shouting over her shoulder.

"No peeping!"

"Aye, ma'am." Said Touma, turning to the other side, even if she was hidden by the numerous trees.

After all, there were not enough precautions to avoid such a scenario. Furthermore, he knew full well if such thing were to happen, he would probably be beaten or harmed in painful ways. Data came to place herself next to him, imitating him.

They stayed silent for a few moments, observing the living painting that was the dark landscape before them. The clear and large moon allowed better vision over the vast plain. He looked at her. The blue light Data's eyes emitted and the dull fan noise coming from her were the only thing disturbing the peace of the starry night.

"Something's the matter?" She asked.

He shook out of his thoughts. He had been fixing her eyes, two pits of bright cyan with things moving in them. They looked like miniature small writings and mesmerizing geometrical forms, that maybe showed on her vision, like a Heads Up Display. He had been rather entranced by them, like a moth with light.

He turned away, slightly embarrassed and tried to give an excuse on the fly but only managed to dig his hole deeper.

"Just wanted to see your eyes."

Oh great. He just made it weirder. To his surprise, she let out a small giggle.

"What do you think about them?" She asked, placing herself before him with an innocent smile.

"Th- uhm- they're pretty." He mumbled.

It was true, they were definitely original and had a certain charm unique to them. Maybe it was their uniqueness, or simply how bright it shone, like a beacon of hope or happiness.

"Prettier than the Cogwork's?" She asked with a smile, referring to Logika.

This time he did not answer. He took a few steps back and an uncomfortable look settled on his face. That wasn't the kind of question he wanted to answer. She soon realized this and she turned apologetic.

"I'm sorry." She sighed. "Mustn't be easy to be with the twins who hate each other."

He looked at her sideways. Her gaze had drifted to the moon, observing the cratered and shining satellite who hung in the dark spotted sky.

"What happened?" He asked though he felt like he was overstepping his bounds, his curiosity got the better of him.

She let out a mirthless giggle, before pointing at the side of her head, where the metallic bar on her temples was.

"This happened." She simply said, before elaborating. "I didn't believe in what my family believed. What she believed." She shook her head. "I just wanted to seek the truth, I had faith in futuristic technologies." Sighed the Maxwellist. "It may have been a bit too hasty to convert, both in faith and body." She showed her silicon arm. "But I don't regret it."

"I see, and I suppose she didn't take it well?" Simply presumed the SCP.

"No." She shook her head. "My parents were very disappointed and confused, my mother ignored me for a good year, but we still talk." A grimace barred her traits. "I suppose they always knew I had an interest in Maxwellism. But Logika... my sister." She seemed to speak the last work with difficulty. " She took it the worse. She still hates me. Can't blame her, I didn't make it easier."

"I don't think she really does." Stated Touma, crossing his arms.

She threw him a questioning look, while doubt was heavy in her pupils, he could detect a sliver of hope.

"You saw it when we were at the Bleak Heart. She regrets."

Data's response was a small shrug.

"I don't know. This wasn't a particularly normal situation. What she said might not be what she really thinks." Her voice lightly trembled as she spoke.

"I heard you during that moment. You said that you didn't want to hurt her. You still love her, you want things to be like before, don't you?" He exposed, observing her reaction all the while.

Her face turned surprised and apprehensive before morphing into a melancholic one. She approved with a small nod.

"Well then, what tells you that she isn't willing to forgive you? You have already said that, don't you remember?"

"I know!" She retorted. "But... I don't know... Each time we talk it always seem to boil down to insults in the end."

"I'm sure that if one of you make the first step it will be alright."

"Maybe." She answered, eyes fixing the moon, doubt battling hope. "In the end, none of us actually did anything to help you." She pointed at the corpse he was still carrying.

It was at this moment that Logika chose to interrupt them before he could answer.

"Alright! We can go!"

Touma turned and the moonlight revealed a young woman in a blue and green robe with flowery motifs, reaching to her ankles. A large straw hat sat atop of her head, a green ribbon, wrapped around it, had the end flowing freely in the light wind. The sleeves reached to the middle of her forearm, before being followed by white leather gloves. She held one of her a metallic suitcase, where he presumed was her red robe and her halberd, folded he guessed. He did not know where she pulled this suitcase, but at that point, he wasn't going to doubt her ability to carry such thing one way or another.

She noticed their looks. The religious and imperious aura she always exuded was greatly diminished, instead, she looked rather... normal if a bit out of mode considering her age.

"W-what?" She asked, putting her hands over herself.

She remembered that she had been told to buy civilian clothing, something that wouldn't appear out of touch with most people. Her adept robes were too strange and conspicuous for those unfamiliar with the supernatural world. As such she had been given a choice of clothing from the Church's wardrobe.

Her embarrassed look turned irritated when she heard her twin's snicker. Data could not help herself, she found her sister's outfit humorous, it looked so out of mode, reminding her of the 1940s. She could laugh, but at least she didn't dress like any unenlightened street rat! However, to not appear rude and launch another heated dispute before the third party she decided for once to swallow down her pride but could not help herself when she asked:

"What do you think Kamijou?" As an innocent sounding demand.

Damn, they could be really similar in some ways, thought Touma, as her way of asking mirrored her sister's. The same position, same eyes and voice used to pry answers out of his poor self.

"It looks good on you." He sheepishly admitted.

He did not see the small and quick smile Logika flashed to her sister, though this one only looked away with a shrug. They began to delve into the forest. The way was tricky and quite slippery, Logika nearly fell twice due to the new shoes, impractical flat woman shoes, she was not used to. Fortunately, she was caught each time by Touma.

They finally made it to the Ranger station. It was a rather large wooden construction in the middle of a small clearing. It was composed of tree logs and a brick rooftop and small glass windows. A large parabola sat atop, accompanied by an antenna. There was a platform on a nearby treetop, which could be accessed by a ladder. All in all, it could very well be a perfect surveillance outpost for the Foundation.

There was one problem, however.

It looked worn, old and rather abandoned, not taken care of like one would expect from an outpost of either a militarized secret society or a US department also responsible for law enforcement and safety. There wasn't even a single light on.

They carefully advanced toward the log house. The night was silent, except for when they stepped onto creaking branches. They finally arrived at the house, climbed on the little patio before knocking on the door. Nothing. Data's knuckle rapped once more on the door. Nothing. Once again.

"Hey! Open!"

Nothing. Data pressed her ear against the door, her eyes shining through her closed eyelids for a few moments before she withdrew. She sighed and shook her head.

"There's no one in there."

Without waiting any longer she kneeled, reached for her inner pockets, took out some sort of metal stick before jamming it into the lock. After a few seconds, the door opened. Using the flashlight, she lit the room. It was a dusty with a few spider webs around. There was some transparent plastic cover on various furniture.

The table, for instance, or the chairs as well as the nearby cooking station with a fridge. There was a door leading to a yet unknown room further away. Logika reached to the side and flicked a switch, fluttering first, light became.

At least, the electricity was working. They began to explore the house, and Touma slumped 'God's' body on one of the chairs, first removing the plastic cover. Data opened the fridge, something that the two others welcomed, they didn't realize but the feeling of hunger came, strongly. The fridge was full of actual food, made for long conservation, even MRE, as well as drink. There was also a freezer with a considerable amount of frozen food. The cupboard also had conserved food in cans as well as plastic cutlery and plates.

Logika meanwhile, opened the door to the other room, revealing a bedroom. There were about five bunk beds, making that ten beds in the room. The beds were made and ready to be used, also covered by a plastic cover. There was also a small pile of duffel bags and various hygienic affairs ready to be used.

The communal bathroom was a bit further away, she assumed that the water worked, something that was soon verified as the water began to flow after she twisted the knob.

A question assaulted the three of them. This place seemed awfully well prepared for something that seemed abandoned for, at least, three good years considering the amount of dust, if not more. So why? Why was it so well prepared?

There were two answers. Either it was a Park Ranger relay, made to shelter them during a recovery mission or a catastrophe damage control and rescue mission. Or, it could be a secret Foundation relay, made for MTF or agents stranded in the wilderness, or even a secondary base, who knew?

Anyway, Touma transported the corpse into the bedroom, laying it on one of the farthest beds before covering it entirely with a cover.

Data meanwhile, was busy on the radio present in the relay, trying to see if she couldn't contact someone, while Logika was searching to see if there were no hints for a frequency to contact the Foundation, and while doing that she began to clean some parts of the house, removing the dust while searching.

As they continued their affair, Touma began to gather various ingredients and began to cook spicy chicken breast with rice. He wasn't eager to eat rations, something he presumed his companions also felt and was rooting for a proper meal. After unfreezing the chicken with warm water, he cut it into pieces and put in a pan. Then, he prepared the rice and heat it up in a saucepan. The pan slightly crisped as the meat cooked, adding a dull sound to the relative silence of the log house. The silence, for one, was not awkward or heavy but rather relaxing and light.

While the future meal was heating up, Touma disposed of the plates and the cutlery. He stopped in the menial of this activity. A nostalgic look settled on his face, as he took in the familiar activity. It had been long since he had done something so... casual. It reminded him of home.

The more time passed, the more his annoying friends missed him, the more the endless assignments seemed a better fate than this one, running around the City to get the best food sales, economizing every yen he could. For one reason it didn't look that bad right now. Even the problems he was always thrown in were not usually as depressing as this one. At least, he often had friends or amicable and pleasant acquaintances to share the adventure with. Exception made of course when one considered his latest ventures, with Othinus, he wasn't eager to repeat it.

He sighed. Once again, he wondered what happened in the Gakuen Toshi. While he knew he wasn't the only 'good doer' living there, he still worried. Despite all of its flaws he always felt closely connected to the city, it was cruel, it was cold but it also a place of marvellous promises, waiting to be shared with humanity. Like every human community, it had great potential but ruined by greed and its researchers', too much common, lack of empathy. Even, if, in a way, it was one of the reasons why the City was so advanced.

But he digressed.

The people of the City were his main source of worry. There were many who wanted to destroy Academy City, and he knew most of the missions he had, sometimes unwittingly, accomplished, had for goal to neutralise threats to the City. At least, he thought with a smile, he could count on Biribiri and Accelerator to defend it.

He was shaken out if his thought by a slight intensification of the crackling sound of the pans. He rushed to them and turned off the gas.

"Dinner's ready." He shouted, drawing the attention of the twins.

They had been absorbed in their task but stopped when they felt the call of their stomach. The three of them quickly sat down at the table. Touma served everyone a large portion, he made as much as he used to when he lived with Index. That is to say, approximatively for a bit more than five people.

While that did raise some unspoken questions, they remained as such, none of the girl willing to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Itadakimasu." Said Touma as he finished serving everyone;

The dinner began, silent but light, the rapid sound of eating, plastic forks and knives rasping against food and each other while owls hooted outside. As the dinner progressed the speed of the sound of consumption slowed down. And, slowly, a silence came down. This time it was heavy. No one talked to each other.

The food was good, but unfortunately, it could do amend for the heavy and distasteful silence oppressing the entire room. Touma threw quick looks at the two women, who avoided eye contact with each other, despite being nearly face to face. After everyone finished the meal, he took the plates and went to was them. He sighed.

Apparently, this action showed his discomfort, and in order to alleviate the awkwardness oppressing the room, she pretexted that she needed to go outside since she felt parts of her network connecting back.

The air, when she departed, slightly relaxed but no words were spoken. At least, for a while.

"You know, she doesn't want that." He simply said as he cleaned the plates with a sponge.

"Why do you care?" She snapped up.

He couldn't blame her, after all, it wasn't really his business. So why?

"First off, you're irritating me acting like that, second, do I really need a reason to help people?" He asked, rather rhetorically.

A small bitter laugh answered him. He finally looked behind to see Logika, looking at him with a sour smile.

"At least, you're honest. I like that." She answered.

He shrugged.

"Why do you care so much that she became a... Maxwellist, is it? Can't you respect her choice?"

A thundering sound was his answer. Logika's metallic arm had violently slammed the table, cracking it, even burying its feet, those on her side, in the wood of the floor. He silently gulped, but otherwise retained a neutral face and continued cleaning the plates.

"You know nothing, outsider! You wouldn't know how it is, you're a heathen!" She growled. "I couldn't, no I can't let her continue this way! She is wrong! A heretic! A traitor! A disappointment! She..."

"Do you really believe that?" He interrupted.

Silence.

"Do you really think that the problem is solely her choice of worship?"

"Maxwellists do not deserve sympathy! They are fools and manipulators who draw innocents, promising things that they cannot realize! They are dangerous! T-"

"So, you worry about your sister, is that right?" He looked at her again.

Her face had taken a sad look.

"She just doesn't want to understand... she didn't and doesn't trust me." She got up and placed herself at one of the windows, her eyes drawn to the celestial moon. "She didn't even tell me before doing it! She didn't tell me! Why?" He didn't move from his spot, drying the plates with a rag, but he could see from the corner of his eyes that her eyes had begun to shine. "We told everything to each other... why?"

"Because she was afraid you would stop her." He said, gambling.

For now, he had just used what he had managed to learn when they were at the Bleak Heart. They wanted to forgive one another but were too afraid to do so. For now, he just had to pressure them into doing that.

"But why would you?" He asked. "Evidently, she is living a good life while being a Maxwellist, you don't need to worry about that. Even before you knew that, didn't you. So why?"

"You know if I had the heart to joke, I would say that the number of things you seem to know about me is beginning to get creepy." She turned and faced him with a sad smile, eyes brimming with tears.

He returned her expression, as he finished cleaning everything.

"When we were children..." She began. "... We promised each other that, together, we would rebuild the Broken God, and that together we would see the accomplishment of the Church's teaching, the leap forward for humankind..." She sighed. "But now, it is impossible... how can we build together Mekhane if she believes in those idiocies!" She exclaimed, frustrated.

"To the risk of making myself a fool again. Why can't you build it together, I mean, you're going to tell me this is impossible but a few hours before I would have told you that building a god is impossible. At that point, is there something that cannot be envisioned in this world? I mean it's good to have a physical form, but having an actual intelligence is crucial." He said, referring to Logika's Physical Reassembling theory and Data's Collective Artificial Intelligence theory.

"But the Church..."

"Is it worth your sibling? If one of you is right, then time will prove it, what is the point of fighting each other out? If one wants to believe in something false, isn't that their choice? The truth will prevail one day, so until then enjoy each other's company... before it's too late." He said, a bitter smile etching itself on his lips.

Another silence. While she could find a fault in Touma's logic, namely the fact that Maxwellists wanted to convert everyone, she longed for the good old days where her sister and she would talk and hang out without any worries, she recalled with fondness the prank they ran on the Legate. Maybe, maybe...

"You're right. I want things to be like before, even if she remains a Maxwellist fool." She sighed, taking her head between her hands. "But... I've been horrible with her. I've said things, things that shouldn't have been spoken. I-"

The door suddenly opened and before Touma or Logika could say anything, the Cogwork Orthodox was tackled by her sister. Surprised at first, the twins melted into a hug, accompanied by choked sobs. Touma smiled, relaxed, fortunately, Data had been listening to the conversation, her curiosity getting the better of her.

He let them have some privacy so they could settle their problems once and for all. He went into the bedroom, closed the door and turned on the light. He sneezed due to the amount of dust. He went at one of the beds, the one where he had put 'God's' body. He sat on the bed.

"Faith, what a thing uh?" He spoke to the lifeless 'God'. "Sure wished I had it, makes some things easier."

He had seen and experienced so many things and met so many people that he was confused about divinities. His upbringing had first separated him from any religion, he supposed that in classes they taught how god or deities were like fairy tales, non-existent. This was a City of cold hard science, after all, there was no place for mythology or prophets. He supposed this upbringing, though forgotten, had influenced him. All of this made believing in a superior being, even a being that was no omnipotent or omniscient, hard but also easy at the same time.

He knew an actual god. There were so many gods, that contradicted each other, which could actually exist that the essence of divinity itself became meaningless. What was a god? The definition was definitely blurry. Was it a defined being, multiple beings or even a metaphysical concept which could not be applied in any way? One thing was sure, he was not about to know.

Then, the unexpected happened. Someone knocked, not at his door, but at the door leading to the exterior. He got out of the bedroom and met Logika and Data who had withdrawn from each other. They threw questioning glances at each other. Knuckles rapped against the door in a rhythm, two times, pause, one time, pause, two times.

A code? He wondered. Logika and Data indicated him to stay away, as they placed next to the door. Data was in front of the door while Logika took the right side, taking out a piece of metal from her suitcase, which soon deployed to form her halberd.

The knuckles rapped again, this time more insistent. Muffled voices could be heard, and the sound of loaded weapons accompanied them.

"Six." Spoke Data, indicating the number of enemies.

Her sister nodded, and as Touma stepped back, placing himself out of potential harm's way, they opened the door. Data pointed her cannon at the intruders. The first was a woman wearing a park ranger outfit who raised her hands, as she took in the menacing barrel.

Her five colleagues took out their weapons, four revolvers and a shotgun.

"I suppose you're the expedition of SCP-1983?" Calmly said the woman.

"You're from the Foundation?" Questioned Data, slightly lowering her arm-weapon.

"Yeah, is Mr Kamijou with you?" Asked the woman. "For the love of God, lower your weapons!" She ordered to her colleagues. "Sorry about that."

"No worries." Answered Data, fully retracting the weapon and signalling Touma and Logika to reveal themselves.

"Ah, perfect, so you are Data and Logika. Good, we've been told to bring you with us. We'll transport you by plane to Boston." Revealed the woman. We have a car to transport you to a nearby airport. If you could come with us."

"Are you part of MTF 'Choir Boy'?" Asked Touma.

"Yes, how do you know?" Answered the woman. "I'm sergeant Vargas, MTF Chi-13 'Choir Boys', why do you ask?"

"We have a colleague of yours." Said Touma.

"Really, where is he?" She asked, intrigued.

"Follow me." He said, leading them to the bedroom.

There he revealed the corpse of 'God'.

"He told me he was part of your team, he even showed his badge, it's in his one of his pocket but he's... well you can see." He said, bitterness in his tone. "I thought it would be better if I let you do your things. He never told us his name, I have to admit, he wasn't... sane."

"Thank you." Said the woman. "Though I doubt I can recognize him... Radek! Come here!" She called one of her colleagues.

He was a rather old man, with a grizzled face.

"You need something?"

"Yeah, you were part of the original team weren't you, can you identify that guy?"

"I was in 'Sequires Nos', but I maybe met him when 'Choir Boys' came to help us." He said, before bending over and removing the scarf, blocking Touma's view. He also searched in the man's pocket.

"Nah, don't recognise him. But he does have the badge alright." He said, pulling up the scarf on the man's face. "He definitely has the clothes the original team wore. Bunch of crazy bastards. Though, he got a mix of 'em."

"Thank you." She said to the two. "Now, except if you need anything else, we can depart."

They nodded, two soldiers came to carry 'God'. They followed the disguised Foundation team to their vehicle, a Park Ranger Ford Interceptor Utility. The sergeant took the wheel, Radek as her co-pilot while the other soldiers went into the back, sitting on the side. Touma and the twins on the meantime took the seats in the middle.

The road was slightly bumpy but as the car advanced the three of them began to feel sleepy. Unable to resist the claws of Morpheus they soon accepted its embrace. When they arrived at the airport, the agents discovered the three of them peacefully sleeping, slumped on each other.

"Aww, don't wake them up. Poor kids, must have been exhausting to get through 1983." Said Vargas.

The three were transported with all the care the Foundation agents could afford to the small aircraft. They protected their ears with earmuffs so they wouldn't wake up when the plane's motor would roar. As the three agents who carried placed them, they decided to play a little prank, snickering like kids all the while. Finally, they exited the plane and began to walk off while the craft roared to life.

"What are we going to do?" Asked Radek as the plane flew off the airstrip.

Without SCP-1983 'Choir Boys' had outlived its usefulness.

"Oh, I'm sure the high-ups have something." Simply answered Vargas. "C'mon let's go."

A CERTAIN SCP

"Congratulations on the success of your mission."

"I wouldn't call it a success, we didn't find Touma." Growled Misaka at Lerouge.

The entirety of the dimension hoppers was assembled into Lerouge's office. This one was, as usual, dressed in his white suit, harbouring a small smirk while eight Ice Coats, two for each corner were disposed of in the room.

"Could you explain to us what this means?" Asked Tsuchimikado, showing a photo of the prisoner they had rescued at the UIU's headquarter.

Lerouge took it, briefly looked at it before giving it back. He already had knowledge about their finding before they arrived. He was at first curious of why they had taken this specific person, but he soon understood. He had seen the young woman before she was taken to the medical ward to be checked upon. It would seem that she had been the victim of torture, such as walling and advanced interrogation techniques.

"I think you are intelligent enough to know." He simply said. "I know this must be a great shock Mrs Misaka. I am sorry not to have informed you earlier."

"Does that mean there are others?" Questioned Kanzaki.

"...It is a possibility." He admitted. "Though, I discourage you from looking for them. They are probably people with their own lives, banal or abnormal. If you wish I may try to look for them and inform you of their activities, though I strictly advise not to contact them."

His voice and eyes were steely as he did not 'advise' them but ordered them to do so. They nodded, accepting his first proposition as well as his 'advice'. He mimicked their movement, apparently satisfied by their easy acceptance. It seemed that cooperation was becoming smoother, good.

"As for Mr Kamijou, we shall intensify our researches, the original and secondary. Though I doubt the results will be conclusive, we would know if he was..." He sighed. "I have to admit I did not expect that. We should have run tests sooner."

"It does not matter, as long as it doesn't greatly affect anything. After all, it was to be anticipated." Said Othinus.

"Thank you for your understanding." He said before a ping drew his attention. "Ah, she seemed to have woken up, if you wish you can assist to the interrogation which will begin in a few minutes." He informed and proposed them.

They nodded, accepting the invitation and he led them through the complex until they arrived before a special medical bay. Lerouge led them into a room just next to it which had a large screen broadcasting what happened in the bay via hidden cameras.

Inside, the prisoner they had rescued was interrogated by a scientist, accompanied by one of the doctors and three Ice Coats.

"Hello, I am Doctor Kazekawa, could you tell me if you are indeed-"

"Where am I? Who are you? What do you want?" Asked the prisoner with confidence and authority like she was in charge.

"I am inclined to answer some of your questions, but I must first ask of you to confirm your identity." Demanded the doctor.

"I won't repeat myself. Where am I? Am I back in Japan? Who are you? And what do you want?" Seethed the girl.

"I have been rather conciliating of your demands, but I must ask you to questions shall be answered when you prove yo-"

He couldn't finish his phrase as blue began to light the entire room. The camera feed and the speakers emitted crackling. The dimension hoppers were about to intervene when they were stopped by a swift gesture of Lerouge. No more than five seconds later the feed came back to life showing that nobody had been hurt.

The only differences were that the prisoner was threatened by one rifle and bayonet on each side while the third bodyguards had placed himself before the Foundation staff, two revolvers out. The prisoner had a defeated look, hands in the air.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell you. Didn't expect you to have something like that..." Sighed the prisoner.

"Thank you." Said the Kazekawa, addressing both the guards and the interrogated. "Now, can you confirm you are indeed the member of the Chicago Spectre, known as Faraday, captured by the Unusual Incidents Unit, age nineteen and ten months, whose name is-"

A CERTAIN SCP

Data began to wake up, eyes barely opened, her programs cooled down and updated, informed her she was resting her head on something soft on the surface but firm below. Her audio sensors informed her that she was probably in an aircraft. Still half asleep she wiped the drool on the lower side of her mouth.

This action led her to feel the thing on which she was resting her head. It felt like a shirt. She turned her opening lids to her support. White. She drew back her head. White shirt and black spiky hair. She swiftly withdrew her head, embarrassment flaming her cheek. Fortunately, her support, also known as Kamijou Touma was still soundly asleep.

Had they fallen asleep? She didn't realize how many hours they had spent in the house, whether it had been a full day or not was up to debate. Maybe it had been a few hours? The only thing she knew was that they had begun to feel sleepy as the emotionally challenging events of the day caught up with them. Speaking of such.

Her eyes searched for her sister. She found the back of her head, which was resting on the SCP's shoulder while her eyes were apparently drifting to the horizon, as she was placed next to the window, her hat in her lap.

They had finally managed to forgive each other, and while she knew that for some time their exchanges might be awkward, she was determined to make sure things would be like before.

She was pretty sure her sister was awake and she felt a smirk worm its way up her face.

"Well, aren't you cosy?" She whispered to her sister.

This one jumped a bit, startled, she turned to face her twin trying to maintain her usual imperious expression but the rose tainting her cheek betrayed her. However, she managed to keep her vocal composure.

"Good morning, sister, have you slept well?" She asked, her face regaining its regal complexion.

"I return the question, was your pillow comfortable enough?" She teased.

Oh, how much she had missed that! Her twin's answer didn't disappoint her.

"You're one to talk, you drooled over him like a baby."

This time it was Data's turn to be embarrassed as her sister's expression turned triumphal. Then, they shared a laugh. A yawn.

"What are you laughing about?" Asked Touma, as he woke up, a yawn escaping his lips.

"Nothing!" Exclaimed the two, synchronised.

He looked at their flustered selves, with an intrigued look before shrugging. The twins shared a small thumb up. An announcement came, informing them that they would soon land. It wasn't a lie, as of a few minutes after, the plane finally touched the ground.

Soon they were walking out of the craft, welcomed by a small party of Foundation agents. They followed the agents who lead them to a secluded room in the airport. They were left alone, three agents standing guard.

Logika and Data were told that someone would come to get them, while Touma had to wait until the aircraft had been refuelled, checked up and ready for another flight. He was seated on a chair fixed to the wall. He remarked that Logika approached him, planting herself before him, standing tall.

"Kamijou." Spoke the Cogwork Orthodox, her commanding attitude etched on her traits, worrying him, before they softened. "Thank you. Not only have you saved our life but you have managed to bring my sister and me together again. For this, you have my thanks." She gave a formal bow.

"No need t-" Began Touma, hastily putting his hands before him.

"Nonsense. I am very grateful, we are grateful." She threw a look at her sister, who answered with a confirming smile. "I shall speak in your favour shall anything concerning you come up in the discussions of the Church."

"I second that." Said Data.

"Well, uhm, thank you."

To be fair, he just waved his hand around like he was used to and managed to garner enough information to know what was wrong between the two as well as the fact that they didn't really hate each other. With time they would have probably fixed up. It wasn't really impressive, but... he supposed he did no wrong. As such, he accepted the declaration with a smile.

"But seriously." Sighed Data, seating next to him and leaning close, causing him to lean away. "Are you sure you don't want some augmentations." She asked, her eyes glowing brighter. "What about this model!" She took some disk out of her vest, showing a hologram of a leg made of silicon and electronic parts. "Or this one! It has an integrated speaker!"

She was cut off when a halberd fell between her and the young SCP.

"Leave the poor man alone." Commanded the twin. "He evidently isn't interested..."

Touma was about to muster a thankful smile and look when she continued.

"... in computers. He is a man of action! Nothing better for this than hard steel and gears. What about integrating a revolver into your arm!?" She said, though her eyes weren't serious.

"You know what, I think I'll take all of it." He joked.

They laughed for a bit before someone entered. He was an elderly man in a tweed costume with a moustache, his eyes, framed by round glasses, immediately set themselves on Data.

"Professor Gerald!" Exclaimed Data. "It has been a long time."

"Indeed, young one. I am overjoyed to see you well. Thank you two." He said, addressing Logika and Touma. "I have been sent to collect you and bring you back to your respective churches. The earlier the better."

"Ok." Sighed Data, apparently disappointed for a reason which escaped the SCP.

Logika was the first to stride toward the door, giving a small ceremonial bow which he returned before reiterating her thanks and bidding him farewell. Data followed her, blew him a kiss to which he responded with a wave of his hand and a goodbye.

And soon, he was alone. Not for long though, a few minutes later the Foundation agents came to pick him up and he was then put back in the plane and once again flew off, this time back to Site-17.

The flight was rather short. He took a deep breath as his feet trod on the airstrip, the wind blew gently while the waves crashed against the rock. He felt rather relaxed as he walked toward the three guards that came to escort him.

For once, he was less disappointed to get back to the Site, there was worse. He wondered if he could talk with Kear, the man was rather sympathetic. He noticed it was Pearse that welcomed him. Well, the man was after all supposed to be the head of his on-site security detail. He noticed the actually genuine smile the man sported.

"Hi! Good mission?" Asked Pearse.

Should he tell him that he had seen some of the worst things in existence while journeying in the constant fear of having his heart ripped out all of this accompanied by emotional roller coasters? Probably not.

"It's been alright, I guess." He said with a small smile.

"Good to hear that!" Said Pearse, slinging an arm over his shoulder as they began to walk toward one of the entrances of Site-17, the elevator coming from the ground to take them down to the Site.

He looked at one of the guards who had their face masked. They gave him a slight thumb up which he returned with one of his own. Yeah, it wasn't so bad. As they strode through the corridors, he was intercepted by a familiar face.

"T- Mr Kamijou, how have you been?" Asked Wanda, at first eager before she was reminded of the setting.

He flashed her a grin.

"I've been good, w-"

He looked behind and saw a new face. She reminded him of someone... He had seen her before, but where? His eyes focused on her and she noticed it.

"Oh, a fellow countryman. Hi, I'm the new sniper, M-"

He barely heard the answer as he realized what it meant.

A CERTAIN SCP

Orion grinned under his mask as his newest addition swore her loyalty to him. The observant that the Alpha Group had sent wasn't that hard to convince. He was sure she was honest in her declaration, her tone and personality suggested it.

He placed a paternal hand on her shoulder and thanked her, he promised her opportunities and rewards for choosing him over the Alpha Group, making sure to use her first name multiple times. She replied with thanks and a smile before getting out of his room.

Thinking of it, it seemed that the Alpha Group lacked something crucial, loyalty. He had managed to sway her with promises and genuine concern. When he first saw her, she was a gaunt woman with dark bags under her eyes, haunted. He had approached her, proved itself to be someone caring, worrying about her health and had actually helped her when she got herself in trouble with his men. Though, he did rig that, playing all the unwitting actors.

But was it really a play? He had acted in genuine worry with his soldiers before and if he was honest, with her too. That poor woman had looked stressed and worried to the bone. She was getting better now.

But he digressed. His main concern was the Alpha Group, this woman was supposed to be technically one of their best most loyal agents, and yet she had been swayed rather easily by him. That meant that most of their own 'loyal' agents must have doubt about them.

If they treated him, an inferior member of their own council, like a dog and were so arrogant, he dared not imagine how they behaved with the common folk or even special agents. His fists tightened. They were disgusting pieces of shits. They may have had a good and noble goal before but their existence, prolonged by machines and drugs had made them into arrogant power-hungry bastards, especially since the defeat at Tehran.

This memory made him shiver. He had only heard stories. Stories of a terrifying monster in the guise of a woman draped in shadows who had singlehandedly slaughtered a division and sliced through tanks. He knew that the Alpha Group had deigned to send more reinforcements and had withdrawn all anomalous objects and some of the important personnel, forsaking the others. They had tried to act like Sun Tzu 'Throw your soldiers into positions whence there is no escape, and they will prefer death to flight'. They had failed, unlike Sun Tzu who could gain the respect of his men, they had acted as life wasting heartless bureaucrats, handing an easy victory to the Foundation.

They were good scientists and administrators but the only military man was a Prussian and World War One general who never adapted to new settings.

In the ranks and files, he knew that some had knowledge of it as a rumour. But it still pervaded, hanging like a spectre, would it be their fate? Thinking about it... Disloyal top agents, distrustful soldiers. Despite him, he felt a grin overtake his face. The fruits were ripe, sooner than he had expected.

The act of subservience would soon be over, and he would finally lift the curtain for a new stage. A stage where he would be the director and where he would set the play right again.

The observant came in handy, he had a new task for her. But first, he filed through his computer, looking for a particular document. He passed through photos, especially one that struck him, the one of a younger Lieutenant. He must have been sixteen, eh, he was always a bit on the scrawny side. Despite that, he could be quite terrifying.

His attention was drawn to a new message. A close agent of his. The scan detected nothing harmful. He opened it. A picture of a file for a coma patient, what was so i-.

He stopped. His eyes widened. How the hell did he...?

A CERTAIN SCP

The Massachusetts Institute of Technology, also known as MIT, was one of the most respected and famous scientific institutions and campus. It was the learning place to some of the brightest minds in the history of the world.

It was in the underground of these prestigious place that Data and Logika, back in her ceremonial red robe, walked, following Professor Gerald. They were in some of the secret parts of the Institute, built after the end of the First World War when the United States began to show its potential at becoming the first world power, and as such an interesting place for the Broken Church and its sympathizers.

Professor Gerald was one of those, not inducted in any of the three churches but close to their ideals. Neither was he interested in the squabble between the three churches, even if he did favour the Maxwellists, he taught Electrical Engineering after all.

As they progressed in the hallways, the walls turned from painted reinforced concrete to metallic ones, though there were no inscriptions on them. They ended up before a large door made of brass, which opened automatically, revealing a huge room with three machines inside. The one in the centre was made of bronze and from it jutted a yellow ray that climbed to the ceiling where it disappeared in a chimney from which came natural light. A hammer breaking the ground was engraved on it.

The machine to the right looked the same except that the material was brass as well as gears. Instead of a ray, it was black smoke, coming from a long chimney, before escaping from a hole connecting going to the outside. This one had the symbol of a gear with three steel beam, underneath and to the sides, with horse head, like an oil pump.

The final was made of various metal but also of wires and computer parts and plastic. This time it was a mess of wires and cables that climbed to the ceiling before disappearing into a hole. The engraving was one of a cross with three horizontal bars while a stylized electrical network ran on the lower sides.

Before two of the machines, the left one and the right one two persons.

The first, near the machine with the sigil of the Cogwork Orthodox was a tall woman dressed in a red toga made of painted blades of orichalcum. Her entire self was made of mechanical parts, mainly gears, pulleys and steam-powered machinery. From the side of her head jutted small chimneys, like horns, who let out small puffs of steam. Her hair made of crystal stayed still in a delicate XIXth Century nobility haircut. Her face also made of brass had no eyes, and instead, two gems, one of ruby, the other a sapphire. In her hands she held a long spear with a tip made of an enchanted diamond which contained molten lava, making the entire tip burn in everlasting fire. Finally, a cogwheel hovered above her head like a halo.

The second person, a Maxwellist was rather human-like, if one forgot the futuristic-looking armour she wore, made of white segmented plates of carbon nanotubes and ceramics while an undersuit of high-modulus polyethene. The side of her face, locked in eternal youth, were covered by ceramic plates and ornaments, before transforming into robot-like ear-antenna. Her face, speaking of it could be recognized as the one of a famous actress and inventor of the twentieth century, while her hair, natural reached her shoulder, curling on the side. Finally, the most interesting detail about her was the angel wings sprouting from her back, built in ceramic, each of the 'feather' had a small blue LED light. Just like her counterpart, she had a halo, though this one was a simple white plastic ring

At the moment the two women looked at each other with defiant and suspicion, the Orthodox even baring her teeth, cutting triangles of diamonds, at one point. Their hostile gaze turned caring when they brought their sight on Logika and Data.

Logika hurriedly rushed to the Orthodox, kneeling and bowing her head.

"Legate Trunnion." She greeted.

"Rise young one, I am overjoyed that the Mekhane," she emphasized this word. "protected you." She said, with mechanical warmth in her voice as she put her hands on Logika's shoulder.

Meanwhile, Data greeted her fellow Maxwellists using short-range emissions.

"Saint Hedwig."

"Sister, it has been too long, I thank WAN," She spoke normally, also emphasizing the name of her deity, "for protecting you. I do hope you have not been bothered by backward minds." She said with a smile.

Trunnion's brass face remained stoic, stuck in its steely composure, but a puff of steam, larger than most, escaped through her 'horns'.

"Adept, I am sorry if you have been hindered by a companion's foolishness."

The Legate and the Saint threw glances at each other, resentment brewing, boiling. The twins also looked at each other, and in a moment of sisterly understanding, calmly walked to each other, and before their mentor's surprised gaze embraced.

"Be careful, alright?" Whispered Data.

"Of course, you take care of you." Answered Logika.

They broke up with a smile, and with that tranquil and happy expression, stepped into the machines with their flabbergasted leader following them. Later, those ones would ask them what happened, the only response would be a smile, and a 'The Calamity helped'.

A CERTAIN SCP

"So, so far we only know he is a prole, currently unemployed, does odd jobs, no relationship, though he would if he wasn't dense." This drew a chuckle from his partner, Ryuuji. "live in, w- Oh, there's a girl being harassed by some thugs." He remarked, focusing his gaze on the small scene, unfolding a dozen metres away.

Most people ignored it, not willing to put themselves or their precious time for something as light as harassing or potential assault. After all the police were here for that!

"Should we do something?" Asked Ryuuji to his colleague, Atsushi.

"Hold on. Hold on. I think he is going to do it again." Smirked Atsushi, tapping his partner's arm.

"This is going to get good."

They observed as a young man, a bit over twenty headed toward the altercation.

"I bet you sixty thousand yen he is going to get into a fight." Said Ryuuji.

"Alright, then, I bet the same that he'll be able to escape without fighting." Answered Atsushi, tapping his colleague's hand.

They watched as the young man began to talk to the thugs, before addressing the girl and departing with her, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he took her by the hand and walked off. She said something, that set the thugs off and they raced after them.

The two agents approached the group and watched in a mix of horror and amusement the young lady trip and fall. The thugs began to catch up, in a feat of unexplainable selflessness the young man placed himself between the girl and the thugs, letting her escape while he took a hit to the face.

He returned it but was soon overwhelmed by the thugs, who finally found a target.

"Eh, you owe me sixty grands." Chuckled Ryuuji.

"Let's help him instead of chatting." Said Atsushi, rolling his eyes. "And this is barely a fight."

The two men moved in, and without warning began to beat back the thugs, their fists were swift and merciless, and soon their surprise attack ended as the last agitators fell or ran away.

"You alright there?" Asked Atsushi, addressing the black and blue young man, offering his hand.

He had black spiky hair, light stubble on his chin and a rather inoffensive and lost look.

"Yeah." He said with a smile. "Thanks for the help." He took the hand. "I'm Kamijou Touma, nice to meet you."

A CERTAIN SCP

"...Do you confirm this?" Asked Doctor Kazekawa.

"Yes, I do." Said the young girl, chestnut hair framing her face. "I am indeed Misaka Mikoto, age nineteen."

A CERTAIN SCP

"Oh, a fellow countryman. Hi, I'm the new sniper, Mugino Shizuri, pleased to meet you." She presented herself, giving her hand to shake.

He took it, as he still wondered. Where did he see her?

A CERTAIN SCP

"What? How the hell?" Whispered Orion.

His gaze switched from photos of the Lieutenant to the coma patient. If one removed the scars marring the Lieutenant's lower face, they were the same person! This patient's name was... Accelerator? What was that name?

A CERTAIN SCP

And that's it! I wonder If anyone was surprised by this little twist. Thank you everyone!

But anyway, we'll see each other in two weeks.

Until then, ciao ciao!

Sincerely