The Vessel slowly came to. While they were used to pain, the net they had been thrown under was to an extent they hadn't felt in a long time. It reminded them of when they obtained their first spell, that sleazy shaman had knocked them flat out. Whatever spell they hit them was powerful, incredibly so. The only powers they could think of that were similar in Hallownest were either the Volt Twisters of the Colosseum or Uumuu. The charged Lumaflies hurt too, but whatever that attack was, it was on another level. As they came to their senses, they sat on the ground, then surveyed their surroundings.

It was a fairly large room, nearly a perfect cube. The ceiling was high, out of their reach. They probably couldn't reach it, even with the monarch wings. At one end of the room was a bed, too large for them, certainly made for someone at least twice their size. At its side was an empty stand table, nothing special. The only other furniture in the room was a table right in the center of the floor, a chair on either side. Along one wall was a large, inlaid pane of glass, but it was opaque. A strange decoration to be sure.

But the strangest part of the room was how clean it was. It was nearly sterile, no dirt, grime, or dust to be found in any corner. Everywhere in Hallownest became filthy with age, it was unavoidable. Some even welcomed it. The dung beetle who made his home in the waterways came to mind. But here? It was far different, especially in comparison to the swamplands they had originally found themselves in.

The Vessel got to their feet and steadied themselves. At least they had mended their wounds while unconscious. One or two projectiles from the armored beings' weapons had hit them, passing through but dealing some nasty damage. Each hit was comparable to a blow from the Failed Champion, except they were faster and far more numerous. At least they were small projectiles.

They trotted around the room, testing the furniture. The bed set up was a course fabric block laid upon a metal frame. Most beds in Hallownest were covered stone slabs, or ruts carved into floors. Very strange, but probably not intended for them, at least not when it was created. All of the furniture was far too tall for them to use comfortably. It was very likely that whatever cell they had been thrown in was not originally intended for them. The thoughts of this being a cell brought them to consider their capture.

For just a moment they sat on the bed, wanting to adjust their charm setup. They originally had a charm set designed for geo collection, with unbreakable greed and the gathering swarm. They had wanted to purchase a couple scraps off of Sly, gather the last of whatever they could before doing battle with their greater sibling. But now, they were in hostile territory. Finally with a moment to rest, they secretly fiddled with their charms under their cloak. They didn't want to give any indication of what they were doing on the off chance that their captors could observe them. Slowly but surely they swapped out their geo gathering set for a defensive one. The Carefree Melody, Joni's Blessing, The Thorns of Agony, their Unbreakable Heart, and the Sprintmaster. It certainly is an unorthodox setup, but it would help them out defensively. And with no Soul to gain, it made sense to take Joni's blessing. The preparation for being on the defense made them ponder uncomfortable thoughts, though.

The armored beings were hunting for them, given both their exact approach and their material preparation. But why? They never did anything to hurt them. They had only just met them at the fight. How long ago was that? They had no idea. The Vessel lacked an internal clock, not to say that they don't understand time. But their perception of time was only measured by comparing outside events. They had very few functions required to survive, so they could be locked in a box for a cycle or a hundred and not know the difference. A locked room like this would obstruct them from trying to find a way back to Hallownest, but there was no exit they could see. Desperation was beginning to kick in. What if they were left to rot forever, a cleaner abyss? All they could do is walk around the walls and desperately poke at every bit of space, hopefully finding a weak spot they could try to break through.

Two researchers were sitting in their office, looking over a recovery log and the current processing file for a recently acquired humanoid anomaly. It was a strange thing, even among anomalies. Most humanoid anomalies at least looked like humans, to some capacity. This one was a weird little child thing made of tar or something. Definitely a new one. Not the weirdest they'd seen among most anomalies, but definitely up there among humanoid ones.

Smith and Bateson were eagerly looking through video and audio logs of the recent anomaly's capture. The last several months had been wearing on them, and a new assignment would take away the edge. Their enthusiasm was almost contagious. For the time being, they were simply waiting until one of the cell monitors sent a message indicating that the anomaly had woken up in its chamber.

Smith turned to Bateson, "This thing's resilient as shit. You think Euclid is a high enough rating? It took a couple of bullets without slowing down, and enough electricity to kill a crowd."

"Well, as far as we know, it can only move fast and take a few hits. Not to say that's anything to scoff at, but if it's in a lockbox, it's not getting out if we monitor it properly. Some form of intelligence, so some form of problem-solving skills. If we keep tabs on it, we'll probably be fine. Still, we need to begin testing soon. Who knows what else it could have up its sleeve?"

"You mean aside from that knife?"

"Very funny. Still, on that front I'm thinking either extra-dimensional storage or some kind of spatial anomaly."

"My money's on it being a property of that tar, it's slightly corrosive to the touch so perhaps being immersed in it makes items more malleable, and able to be stored more efficiently? That wouldn't explain why it doesn't kill the damn thing, or why the items come out fine, but it seems plausible given what we already know about it."

"Makes sense enough, you're writing this down for future experimentation, correct?"

"Oh, shit, yeah I need to- "

Smith was abruptly cut off as a staffer rang the door to the office and walked in. It was some low-level intern, mostly just an errand boy and messenger. Beaming with pride at the small accomplishment of not getting lost on the way there, he informed the two "SCP 8546 has begun activity in its containment chamber. It's been moving around for a few minutes now."

Without another word, the messenger left, and the two researchers began to gather their clipboards and folders for duty. Smith scribbled out his last thoughts on scratch paper. With everything in order, they walked out the door, hit the lights, and strolled down the hallway. A new anomaly, so much to learn.

"Well, it certainly is anomalous. I wonder how it maintains homeostasis when it's composed of that weird gunk?"

Smith was hurriedly questioning to himself, while jotting down more notes. Technically speaking, while they had been assigned for several days to the new object, red tape from up the ranks prohibiting them from directly studying it until it began activity. Some old rule from several decades ago that nobody bothered to amend, a problem too minor to actually address. Regardless, here they were now, finally observing the anomaly face-to-face. Rather, face-to-one-way-mirror.

Bateson, on the other hand, was busying himself by ensuring the recording equipment was functional. A camera facing into the room through the mirror, as well as microphones placed within the walls. Strangely enough, though, the microphones were not picking up any sound. Bateson called out to the technical officer on standby, "Hey. Is this a malfunction?"

She quickly answered, "No. See here, the green light here is on. That means its active and picking up audio. This blinking yellow one means that its ready to record. As soon as you hit that circle button, it'll become solid yellow and start recording. The red one is off, which means the equipment doesn't detect any faults in itself."

"That's nice and all, but if it's working just fine, why isn't it picking up audio?"

"It should be!"

"It's not, can you hear anything in this?"

"Well, no. Is it possible the object's just not making sound?"

"How can that be? I thought the equipment was rated to pick up things as quiet as a rodent breathing. How on earth could something the size of child be silent?"

"I mean, it is an anomaly. Aren't you supposed to be finding weird things about it?"

Bateson flared his palm, as if about to say something in exasperation. But before a word came out, he froze himself. A deep breath and closing his eyes, he counted to five in his head. Then, he slowly and without a word moved back to his station and continued to ensure everything was in order. It wouldn't do to get worked up right before the best part of his day.

Smith continuing to prepare the list of things to test rattled to himself, "It doesn't appear to have a significant amount of muscle, or really any at all if its entirely liquid. Is it liquid? Besides the point, with such small stature whatever muscles it has surely aren't enough to propel it more than a few centimeters off the ground, much less leap or run around."

The song and dance continued for a while. Smith kept creating new scenarios which would need to be tested, samples to take, experiments to perform. Bateson was nearly running himself ragged trying to ensure that all the equipment required was both present and functional. He had to go to a storeroom several times just to get the actual scalpels needed to sample the sludge substance. As he came back on the third trip with equipment to take samples, a thought crossed his mind.

"Smith, how are we going to get the samples?"

"Of what, the dark tar stuff? Just use a scalpel and scrape some off into a… …yeah. It wouldn't take kindly to getting stabbed, would it. And we don't even know where that blade went."

"How are we going to both collect the substance, and have whoever does it manage to make it out with the actual sample? I doubt we'd get the site director to sign off on using an MTF agent, that poor bastard who got gutted is still bedridden with Sepsis. Getting worse too, last I checked."

"Do you wanna put in a request for a couple of D-Class?"

"I'd rather them than me. If we get two in there, that should be enough to have them perform whatever tests we need, take a sample, and have one get out."

"Alright, sounds good. I've got a personnel request for somewhere around here."

It had been a good week for David and Miguel. After a catastrophic containment breach up in the Carolinas, all D-Class personnel at several facilities were transferred to a relatively cushy one down in Florida. There weren't a whole lot of dangerous monsters to be stuffed into, so mad scientists' experiments were rare.

They were sitting in the cafeteria, talking. Relationships were prohibited among the D-Class, but the Foundation wasn't capable or didn't care enough to prevent low level romance. The hourglass is always running short for the D-Class, so everyone was more willing to live a little under the circumstances. It helped that they got double rations because of the sites being shut down up north. Less mouths up there, more allocation down here. Small, sweet nothings are traded. Life is as good as it can get when you're less than condemned to death.

Of course, all good things must come to an end. As they sat at their table, two guards walked up. As the guards made themselves known to the two men sitting at the table, repressed exhaustion nearly overwhelmed them. They knew these visits were not for friendly conversation. Only a single member of the visiting pair spoke, "D-94302. D-94243. Your aid has been requested with testing at the Anomaly Processing Wing of the site. You will follow us."

Argument was pointless. Trying to worm out was pointless. Trying to duck into a doorway somewhere was more than pointless, with monsters granted limited ability to roam the halls, it could be dangerous. And so, they followed. The command given by the guard wasn't even necessary.

The walk down the long hallways seemed nigh infinite, every moment an age in itself. They could be lucky and make it out just fine. But more likely, if they were being thrown into something, it was because it was deemed too dangerous for the scientists to do themselves. The anomalies stored here weren't the worst of the worst, but that doesn't mean they were nice. Very few were actually harmless if pushed beyond their limits, and they were being used to find where that line was.

The walk took nearly twenty minutes between numerous doors, a tesla gate, and other security measures. This was one of the more secure areas of the facility. Eventually, they reached a pair of doors. One was a simple keypad locked door. The other was more comparable to a bomb shelter's entrance. As the group walked up to the smaller door, a wiry looking man with a nametag identifying him as "Smith" let them in. As they entered, they found a large one-way mirror flanked on all sides by complicated looking equipment. The researcher who had let them in was informing another, presumably his partner, researcher. They looked like the basis for some kind of comedic duo, Smith having a small and thin frame, the other being at least 6'3" and burly.

The larger man turned to them. He was quick but coherent in his speech, as if he had plenty of practice, "Welcome the both of you. We're going to be having you run a few tests, mostly just measurements, on an object we picked up just recently."

He gestured through the glass, a small child in strange clothes was poking the far wall.

"These measurements are not expected to be an issue to take. The tricky part is going to be taking a sample. The object appears to be made of a viscous tar, and we want to analyze further, which requires a direct sampling. I don't believe you two to be idiots, so I'll be blunt. The object will likely react aggressively to you attempting to take a piece of it. Additionally, it may be hostile before that point. And finally, we are still ascertaining the full extent of its properties. While unlikely, there may be an unknown hazard present. You have fifteen minutes before we begin testing. There is a bench outside this room you may rest on."

The bench wasn't exactly comfortable. David and Miguel shared a look. The time flowed by like molasses. A heavy metal door opened. It closed behind them. A second heavy metal door in front of them opened. As they walked in, it closed behind them.

The child's attention snapped to them. Both the men and the child walked to the middle of the room. The only sound was the low hum of an air conditioning unit, rumbling through the walls. Honestly, this is less than they were expecting. The child was certainly unnerving, something pushed them to put distance between them. But it was also rather cute, big round eyes and the short stature really making it seem harmless. Its form seemed kind of squishy too.

They opened the duffle bag they had been handed as they entered. Taking out a measuring tape, they recorded the objects height, double checking the visual estimates the scientists had made. They used a disposable camera and took several photos. They inspected the helmet it was wearing and took magnified pictures for comparison to known insect species. Surprisingly, while the child's gaze never left at least one of them, it did nothing but act like a statue. The scientists said it was somewhat intelligent, but perhaps they were wrong?

After a few minutes, they had done all the tasks asked of them, bar one. They had saved sample retrieval for last. This was the moment of truth.

The Vessel had been watching these two beings as they walked around them with strange instruments. They did not seem hostile, so the vessel did not react. They were trying to gather as much information as possible. It was funny how they were so similar to their captors in that regard.

They had used a weird flashing box on them, up and down. They had used a marked length of metal that rolled into a small box, noting how many marks tall they were. Every moment at least one of them was marking something onto a pad with scroll material on it.

Every few moments, for whatever reason, they would glance at the section of wall covered in opaque glass. It seemed strange. Were they confused by the odd decoration too? Perhaps it was just a nervous disposition. There might even be hidden instructions they couldn't read in the wall, like some kind of rune that only the others could read. The vessel was inclined to believe this last conclusion because they always seemed to look right as they changed whatever activity they were doing.

The vessel was learning things by standing still and observing these strange beings. They wore odd clothes, even among the other sentient beings they had interacted with. Clad in all orange cloth, they lacked armor of any kind. It was also very loose fitting, baggy around the limbs. So odd, because there was some kind of number series marked on the upper part of the torso. Very odd indeed.

While the Vessel was busy slowly reading the number on one of the other beings' torsos, they did not notice the other steel themselves. They did not notice them take a deep breath. They did not notice them stare at the one-way mirror for a long time until a voice from behind the glass that only the D-Class could hear told them to get a move on. And the vessel certainly did not notice them draw forth a scalpel from one of their pockets.

They were busy reading when suddenly, something sharp pierced their limply hanging right arm, right above where the limb terminates in a claw. Suddenly, void aroused with anger shot forth towards the offender in attack. The Thorns of Agony had been activated.

The Vessel leaped into the air and backwards to get away from whatever threat there might have been, quickly pulling out the Pure Nail. But, before they dashed forward to counterattack, they froze. This must have been a mistake. One of the beings was crying, holding the other's hand. The one on the ground was bleeding a dark red, intermixed with the quickly evaporating motes of void. They lacked any armor and were killed almost instantly by the Thorns. A light flashed above the door. They really did not mean to harm them; they had no idea what had happened.

Quickly walking up, they were unnoticed by the other, wholly absorbed with their dead companion. To lose someone so close, someone loved, to an accident of all things. The vessel did not expect anything but wanted to try to make amends however they could, at least the start. They dragged over the notepad and wrote out a phrase as quick as they could. Simply, "am apology". The surviving being slowly dragged their vision over to the pad, weakly pushed it away, and began to sob harder into the other.

An alarm sounded through the room as a bright light flashed above the door. It opened and two armed guards carrying that shocking weapon from the swamp ran in. They took positions aiming at the vessel. The vessel did not want to injure the weeping being next to them and judged they probably could not take on these weapons.

The first one fired their net at the vessel, but they had learned. The net collided with them, but before the shocking could activate, they dashed forward, phasing through the material. The guards took a step back as they began to charge forward, preparing to cyclone. But before they could reach them, the other guard got off their weapon and began to shock the vessel almost immediately. They quickly sheathed their nail through the pain, they could not risk it being seized. The Thorns of Agony sprouted out around them, writhing around the net but unable to find enough purchase to rip it open in their wild flailing. Eventually, they succumbed to the dark, no dreams to haunt them in this far off world. Though something bright seemed to be in the distant of their mind, they faded to unconsciousness once more.

"Well then. Damn."

Smith and Bateson shared a long stare with each other. They had gained a lot more information than they had expected, and with half the casualties they were prepared for.

Bateson, seeming impressed and intrigued, opened up the conversation, "So, I suppose we have much to do now. A few answers, many more questions."

Smith replied, "Yeah, being able to phase through non-solid objects is certainly an issue. Our new friend is guaranteed to be at least Euclid now."

"That wasn't the most interesting part, though."

"Hmm?"

"It's sapient. It wrote a message, albeit slowly and seemingly with great effort, to the other D-Class."

"Well shit. You're right. That gives us two things, our assumption about its comprehension of language was wrong, and perhaps its not as hostile as we though. Er, they're."

While the two researchers were casually discussing the implications of the vessel's actions, the technical officer was vomiting into a trash can. It's fairly rare to watch someone you spoke to get gutted like a fish in the blink of an eye. Either way, the next few days were bound to be interesting for both wardens and prisoner in the containment chamber.