The Foundation maintains several dozen internet webcrawlers. The Webcrawlers are trained and specialized programs which monitor web searches, image uploads, media content, and most information that flow through the internet. Although some are designed to detect cognitohazardous materials, most can't actually see the content they comb. It is incredibly energy taxing for them to scan all visual media, so only those which are vitally important do so. The rest use a clever workaround. They monitor patterns of behavior among users of the internet. This is done in order to either find internet-based anomalies, or to find information which may lead to the discovery of new anomalies. The Foundation, while vast, only has so many eyes watching anywhere at any given time. As a result, they use these webcrawlers as a way to view through the eyes of the civilian population. When people see weird things, they love to share them. The Foundation uses this habit to scan for potentially anomalous objects and locations.
One afternoon, the webcrawler which monitors media in the Southeastern United States and Caribbean detected a new pattern among internet posts. Due to the nature of the internet, searches are rarely limited by geographical region. However, a cluster of posts, explanations on web forums, and questions cropped up in suburban Miami before spreading. It was highly localized before it caught on with the rest of the internet, which tends to give it more credence as a potential anomaly. The thing in question was a newly emerging cryptid. A couple dozen images titled as "The Swamp Ghost" kept emerging, in addition to hundreds of forums posts, nearing the thousands.
Cryptids, Urban Legends, and Folk Myths are nothing new to the Foundation. They even have a couple of them under wraps, most notably Bigfoot. Most wind up being fake, like Mothman or the Jersey Devil. Both were just people in costumes playing for attention. But occasionally, something does crop up. And for this, the webcrawler passed the information relating to "The Swamp Ghost" up the chain of command, the approximate location, number of hits, the creators of the first posts.
Six people were riding in a truck. It was a faded red pickup, with a wide bed. Four of them were in the cabin and the remaining two bounced around on the bed of the truck. They all wore casual jeans and t-shirts. It was racing down the highway, cool wind rushing past them as frontal boundaries were about to collide, a thunderstorm on the horizon. They looked fairly normal, unsuspecting, innocuous. No one who didn't work in their field would understand the meaning of the decal on the bumper, a small thing. Most would think it was some kind of fraternity sticker from college days long gone. It read "Lambda-12", with a picture of a stylized spider in a ring.
The highway was mostly empty, the last car in sight other than theirs passing behind them down the opposite side of the road. A man in the backseat leaned up over the console to ask the man in the passenger seat a question. He had a fading scar over his left eye, a plastic replacement not quite in alignment. "So, what, we're looking for something that looks like a kid in a horned helmet carrying a lance or something, right?"
The other man turned his head, "Well, sort of. That's the overall plan, but we aren't going to start hunting around just yet." He reached into the glovebox and pulled out a manila folder. He sorted through a few of the pages, it was nearly overflowing. The bouncing of the truck didn't make it any easier. He selected a photograph, a highly compressed and poorly printed picture, but a photograph none the less. He handed it over to the man in the backseat, his arm sporting a tattoo sleeve. "Webcrawlers found a few jpgs and shit like this getting passed around. Eggheads think it's a hoax, but considering that all photos of it for about two weeks came out of the same region, we outta investigate."
The driver spoke up, speaking around the gum he'd been chewing for the last half hour, "And? Are we just hunting a kid in a costume? Don't they send other guys for the investigation stuff?"
"Well, typically, yeah. Right now though the Village Idiots are in on some long haul mission in Patagonia. We're the next closest thing, besides, I bet we can handle minor investigation ourselves."
The cabin was quiet for a minute. The two women, who were riding in the bed of the truck, were having their own conversation separate from the rest of the group. Their words were lost in the wind along the road. From their gestures, one would assume it was about the heavily modified rifles hidden below the sides of the truck. The man with a tattoo sleeve made notes in a notebook. After a few more minutes of silence, he spoke up, "Alright y'all, assignments. Me and Rico are going to check out this Church, the Pastor supposedly was one of the first people to start talking about it. Jack and Diane, you two are going to check out a gas station about eighty miles down the road, there was a sighting there. While there, be sure to check their CCTV systems, they supposedly got footage. Alexis and Maddie are going to check out a few of the less certain cases, the probable hoaxes."
A round of agreements filled the cabin, and Diane in the backseat opened the window to relay the orders to Alexis and Maddie in the back. The MTF is now ready to roll. Everyone was hoping it would be a quick hoax confirmation, there are better things to do than parade around in Florida's humidity.
Seargent Dunn, the commander, and Rico, his second walked down the street. At the end was the house of a pastor's family, next door to the Church they worked at. One of, if not the, first pictures of The Swamp Ghost originated from a social media account linked to the address. They had a few words about it. They were currently impersonating local cops as a cover for their investigation, so they were quick on their feet so as to not accidentally draw the attention of any patrolling officers who might not recognize them. They wouldn't be in any real trouble if they were picked up, but it would slow the operation and be a mountain of red tape to cut through.
They had decided that Rico would investigate the property while Dunn talked to the family. At the end of the street, they arrived at their destination. It was a cute house, a well-tended flower bed out front with several law ornaments. One car sat in the driveway, and every bush was watered and in good health. The house was one story, with several windows out front. A bike lay on the sidewalk. An American flag fluttered slowly on a post hanging from near the garage. It was the picture of American suburbia.
The two men walked up to the door, noting the cross centered on it. Rico briskly knocked three times. A muffled "Coming!" came from within the house, a few seconds later, a man perhaps in his 60s answered the door. His face was a warm smile, but upon seeing two men in uniform, a moment of shock and confusion went over him, before he returned back to his hospitality. He quickly welcomed, "Hello officers! Is there anything I can do to help you today?"
Dunn stepped forward one foot, "Hello Reverend Gorczynski. I'm officer Dereck and this is my partner, Randal. We were hoping to come in and talk with you briefly. Is that alright, sir?"
"Uh, yes. Please come right in." He waved them to follow as he walked through into a coffee room. He sat down on a chair around a glass coffee table. A painting of Jesus hung over a piano. The room was well lit, nary a shadow to be seen with multiple lamps all illuminating the area. "So gentlemen, what is it you wanted to talk about?"
Dunn responded warmly, "Oh, not much reverend. You nor your family are in trouble." At that, the pastor's anxiety visibly melted away. "Right now, the department's having a slow month. So, they sent us to follow up on a case about some kids in costumes vandalizing some property. The department noted that your social media account posted a picture of a child in a costume which matched the description of one of said vandals. Could you tell us more about that?"
The pastor responded, perplexed, "I'm not quite sure what you mean. I'm not really active on any social medias, beyond promoting service on twitter and facebook. Could you show me what post you mean?"
Rico spoke in an almost raspy voice, "As a matter of fact, we can. Does this look familiar?" He handed the man a printed image of an Instagram post featuring the potential SCP in a photo.
Upon inspection, the man putting on a pair of glasses that was laying on the coffee table, seemed to have a moment of realization. He thought for a moment before responding, "Would you look at that! That's my son Joseph's account. He must have snagged that photo from my desk to show off to his friends. I'll have to speak with him about that."
Rico replied, "Where did you get the photo, Mr. Gorczynski? Is it possible that we could see it?"
"I didn't take it myself, actually. In my regular service, there's a pair of brothers. Tom and Jerry Williams, good boys. They spend a lot of time fishing and hunting out in the swamps, you see. A few weeks ago, they had gone out, and something spooked them real good. They were telling me they had found a 'Satanic Ritual'. Now, I don't think they're liars mind you, they're good boys. It's just that I have trouble believing someone went through all the effort to do something like that all the way out in the swamp. And they had been out there for hours in the heat, no food either. I never mentioned this to them, I just comforted them and assured them the Lord loved them even if they found something evil in the swamp. They gave me the photo, and I took it home to my study."
Dunn responded, "That's interesting to hear. We think that they probably did see something out there, but I doubt it was anything satanic. Just some kids messing around."
Gorczynski nodded, "You're probably right. Wait right here, I'll go grab the photo. Would you like any water?"
Both men declining, the pastor walked off down a hallway and into another room. Both men shared a look, they had to pay a visit to these Williams brothers. The pastor seemed to have no knowledge beyond what the Foundation already knew, no amnestics would be required.
The pastor returned, handing over a slightly worn photo, "This is it right here. I'm afraid there isn't much else I can tell you about it. I'm just worried that kid in the picture doesn't do anything too stupid, I wouldn't want for someone to get hurt."
The two visitors simultaneously got up, straightened their hats, and shook the pastor's hand. Dunn concluded the meeting by saying, "Reverend Gorczynski I assure you, I highly doubt the kid will doing anything stupid. No one will get hurt. Have a good day."
Jack and Diane, two guns for the foundation, were observing a police line from a distance. Around a half dozen cops were wrapping up a criminal trespassing and vandalism investigation at a gas station. They were at a loss, there was next to nothing to identify a young suspect with. Yellow tape cordoned off the entrance to the convenience store attached to the lot. Shattered glass was blown everywhere inside the entranceway, the whole door was knocked in. Off to the side, the clerk was speaking to a tired beat cop.
The two MTF members were hidden in the brush at the tree line, waiting for dusk to fall. For several hours they passed the time with idle chat in hushed tones. With each other, stakeouts were never a chore. They were glad Dunn was willing to pair them up together for most missions. They kept attentive, even as they played a small card game. They were going to wait until the investigation by the cops was wrapped up for the day.
The hours rolled by. The sun meandered its way across its arc. Clouds drifted on. No rain nor breeze broke the heat of southern Florida. Eventually, the sky was streaked through by accents of yellow, pink, and purple. Dusk began to shine through the blue of the sky, mixing like paints on a canvas. The interviewee had left hours ago, the cops packed into their cars and drove off. They'd be back next Monday after the weekend was over, this wasn't an urgent case. A heavy night fell like velvet.
Eventually, the operatives put their deck away and packed their gear. They had no intention of being here long. They moved in the back door, through a blind spot in the CCTV cameras they had scouted out earlier. They moved into the security office and disabled the security system guarding the premises. Diane reviewed the footage as Jack moved through the store. The footage showed the potential SCP wandering around the parking lot, passing behind a truck out of view of the camera, then walking to the front of the store. It seemed to pace the front, before drawing a blade from seemingly nowhere and destroying the glass door. At that, the clerk drew a shotgun and fired a warning shot into the floor, which scared off the creature. Diane rewound the footage and replayed the part where the creature drew the blade. And again. And again. Under her breath, "Well damn. That qualifies it for a bagging."
The potential SCP had drawn a blade nearly its own size from within itself, no visible storage. No human child could do something like that. But perhaps, an SCP could.
Three days after originally splitting up, the MTF reconvened. A red pickup truck was parked outside a roach motel. As the last members showed up, Alexis and Maddie, Dunn called attention, hushing the separate conversations. A meeting was in order.
Dunn began, "Alright. I want you two to begin first. Were any of those other cases of evidence of this swamp cryptid thing?
The two resident gun nuts nodded, and Alexis started, "Well. We didn't actually have any luck. We found a group of schoolkids in southern Miami who ran off into the woods to make hoax videos. Scared them good but nothing special there."
Maddie, her partner, followed up, "Yeah. We also linked around a half dozen photographs to other places in the world. Aside from whatever you all found, there's nothing here."
Dunn nodded, then explained himself, "Me and Rico confirmed that the photograph of the potential SCP is real, and that two men saw it in the swamp. Neither of us are certain that the two men actually knew what they saw, though. They didn't exactly seem like reliable witnesses. I'm on the edge here of deciding whether or not to pursue this investigation further. Diane, Jack, did you have anything to add?"
Jack and Diane shared a look. They certainly did. Diane explained, "Sir, you need to look at some of the footage we captured. Whatever the object is, it's capable of storing larger objects within its person. Between the speed at which it ran off from the scene here, and the blade being drawn seemingly from nowhere, I think it's fair to say that we have a genuine object on our hands."
The six members were suited up, riding into the swamp in their red pickup. The full gear included bullet proof vests and padding covering most of the body, a helmet with a distinctive orange visor, and folding night vision gear. When in the field, modified rifles using an AR-15 platform as a base are used, but customization is both allowed and encouraged so as to ensure that the operatives are as comfortable as possible with their weapons. On site, only standard issue weapons are allowed so as to not have an adverse reaction with any SCPs, as unlikely as it may be. For this missions, they all went with the standard equipment with the exception of Alexis and Maddie who each had specialized electric nets which could be fired out of a handheld cannon. It was specialty equipment designed to immobilize and subdue creatures.
As part of standard procedure from here on out, no conversations beyond what are mission-essential are held, and they only refer to each other by official designation. Body cameras and audio recorders rolling as soon as they set out a few hours earlier. All information gathered related to the anomaly was passed up to researchers at some facility. Whoever received it was beyond them, just so long as it was Foundation personnel. Their job now was to find and bag the anomaly, and nothing else. They were on the hunt.
They had a job to do. They stopped at a wide spot in the road. They had calculated the maximum distance they believed the object could travel in a day, given that it never stopped for breaks or other distractions. Using the last known location from a sighting three days prior, they extrapolated a circle within which the object was most likely to be found. After confirming that there was an SCP roaming the Everglades, they got permission from the higherups for a reconnaissance drone to scan the area. After about six hours of searching, it came upon a reading in the swamp which had a very high likelihood of being the anomaly.
After approaching about 1600 meters away, as close as they could get from the road, they marched out into the swamp. The drone would keep tabs on the anomaly while they approached. A meeting was approaching.
The Vessel was on edge. They had been wandering for many cycles of the sky now, at least a couple dozen. They knew this swampy area was vast, but the distance they had traveled was ridiculous. They had been trying to go in a straight line, but they could have very easily have been going in circles. The terrain was so inhospitable to foot travel that it forced strange routes. They also had to get adjusted to only traveling in two dimensions. Back in Hallownest, travel was just as much an up-and-down venture as it was left-and-right. But since they were no longer in a cave like before, they had to mentally adjust. They couldn't even make a decent map since there weren't as many easily recognizable paths like the tunnels of Hallownest, and even fewer notable landmarks.
Still, they had no choice but to trudge onwards. Eventually, they would find something. They were regretting not following the road they had found a while back at the strange store. But after the clerk had drawn a magic weapon and instantaneously destroyed the ground near them, they had fled. They didn't want to fight them, and between the power of their weapon and the lack of soul to heal, they would likely have been killed in the fight. It was better to retreat, they only wished they had thought to follow the road to perhaps less hostile sentient beings. Maybe there was an equivalent to The Archives somewhere they could visit and learn more about where they ended up.
These thoughts had been rattling around in their shell for a while now. They marched onwards, dimly aware of their surroundings. They thought that before the Infection, before the dangers of Hallownest, and even before the strange beasts of this new world, that boredom of all things might kill them. Suddenly, a sharp crack snapped them out of their thoughts. Something was in the underbrush behind them. Or, more accurately, a half dozen heavily armored somethings.
A raspy voice called out, "Command. This is L2. We've found the object, preparing to make contact."
With the confirmation to the commanders following the operation, the six operatives began to move forward. They formed a semi-circle around the object. Up close, it really was a bizarre creature. If they had any doubts that it may have been a child in costume before, they were dashed now. Its helmet was actually made of chitin and, though subtly, seemed to move as if it were made of skin. The eyes were deep and hollow, as if an endless expanse filled them. Something within struck a nerve with each member of the MTF, though they were too well-trained for it to make trigger fingers itchy. Its body was not cloaked in shadow or a black skinsuit like previously thought, but rather composed of some kind of writhing fluid.
"This is L1. I am ready to attempt to contact the object, my net is on standby to bag them. My visual feed is coming through good?"
"This is command. Visual and Audio are clear. Move forward and make contact"
Dunn began to move forward. He had the net held behind his back. When he spoke to command, the object's head snapped towards him. He began to move towards the small being. Honestly, they were almost adorable. But still, he steeled his heart, he had a job to do. He slowly mouthed words to try and coax it towards him, like a cat. As far as they could tell, it wasn't capable of communication, acting more like a lost animal than anything. Hopefully, if he bagged it fast, he could get this over with quickly. It was not backing away, just keeping eye contact as it stood on a small mound.
He was now only a foot away, practically towering over the creature. It only came up to Dunn's waist. He crouched slightly and prepared to throw the net over the creature. If anything went wrong, the other members of the squad all had their weapons trained on it, standing only ten feet back. He took a deep breath; nothing had gone wrong so far. This was the moment of truth.
The Vessel was confused. They thought they would have to seek out more sentient beings, but here were several. But they were all armored, so much so that they couldn't see their soft, oily shells like the others had. One of them said something seemingly to no one, then began to approach slowly. They had one arm behind their back. Were they trying to show a symbol of peace? It was a really bizarre display.
Eventually, they were only a pace or two in front of the vessel. They had to crane their head to look up at them. They towered far over them, their head reaching about where Hornet's horns ended. They paused for a moment. What was wrong? Their arm behind their back twitched, and the vessel realized what was happening. The being threw a large, heavy net where they were standing.
The Vessel's reactions had improved since encountering the swamp beasts, and they sidestepped out of the way of the net. While doing so, they charged power within themselves. After just a moment where all of the sentient beings stood seemingly in shock, they dashed forward and past the closest being who had thrown the net. They unleashed the Dash Slash upon their midsection at which they screamed in pain; a spray of red being flung with the strike. A meaty looking tube began to poke out of the long slash, their abdomen was eviscerated. They crumpled to their knees. The others cried in alarm and began to shift their metal tubes towards the vessel.
The others were carrying magic weapons like the clerk had! Quickly, they shot upwards into the air, small explosions impacting all around where the vessel had previously stood. The beings were surprised by this and four of them dashed to find cover, the fifth one running to tend to their fallen comrade. The vessel paid them no mind and dashed towards the closest being in cover. The being tried to use the weapon on them, but they were closing the gap too quickly for them to aim it properly. The others hadn't realized that the vessel was so close to their comrade. The being pushed the end of their weapon towards the vessel, but the vessel slashed upwards towards the weapon, knocking it out of their grip. During the slash, several of the being's digits were removed. The being cried out in pain, drawing the attention of the others, before using their other arm to punch the vessel. They were thrown from their arc in the air against the tall plant that was originally being used as cover. They fell to the ground, the being they had just struck at retreating behind their comrades.
They quickly gathered themselves, looking up to see three beings staring them down. The one leading the trio had a different weapon, it was wider and looked more like a tube made of a matte material than the strange metal machines the others were carrying. For a moment, each party stared the other down. The vessel began to dash forward as the center being winced and fired their tube cannon. A weighted net impacted the vessel mid swing and dragged them to the ground.
They were confused for a moment; the net was made of a rope-like material. They tugged at it while the others stared in exhaustion and relief. They drew their nail and began to saw at the restraints. With a brief yelp of alarm, the center being who had thrown the net at them quickly pushed a button on the side of their tube weapon. Suddenly, a bright blue light flowed through the net and the vessel, shocking them just like the lights in the sky when they arrived here and the lumaflies in the archives. The vessel was frozen in pain for several agonizing moments, before losing consciousness, the whole world fading to dark as the pain overtook them.