The team quickly unpacked their equipment. Agent Sharpe was troubleshooting every possible cause of malfunction with the radio equipment. Alexei was showing Cactusman the ins and outs of how to operate a handgun. Han was twiddling his thumb. And the Vessel was trying to make heads or tails of how their map had apparently changed.
Iris was sat on her knees, looking at the parchment the Vessel had apparently been marking.
"So, we're in agreement that we definitely came from the hallway right here, the one that was marked up."
The Vessel nodded and traced a line back. They didn't fill out the other seven halls ahead, they thought it would be confusing more than anything. They themselves had gotten lost in the Deepnest between only two before. But they were both concerned from looking down at the end of the hallway. The distance seemed to change drastically with every passing glance. But even then, they doubted their own judgement. There was so much monotony in the greens and browns of the halls that everything down them seemed fluid. With no horizon, or even really a distinctive end, depth perception was impaired. It could extend for kilometer after kilometer, or it could end abruptly. The only thing they could be for certain of was that their original mark to guide them back was no longer visible down any corridor.
Iris noticed their shared concern with the empty hallway.
"Yeah, that's concerning. We need to just pick a hallway and go. Staying here is more dangerous than going."
Agent Sharpe had by now walked over, having heard the conversation.
"Iris, I don't think that's a good idea. We're better off staying put until we can recontact command. Sailing off into the unknown will likely get us killed."
"Staying put is far more dangerous, and even if it does wind up being more dangerous to go, that is our job. Whether we like it or not."
"We can't exactly do our job if we're dead. Or worse. It's better for us to receive communication and outside information to make better judgement."
"I understand that you're the team lead, but in this line of work, you always have to go off of what you know. Due to the nature of the anomalous world, there will always be something you cannot know about. There very well might be some sort of space eating dragon at the end of one of these hallways that turns us into plasma. But it's just as likely that one would appear right here, right now, in this room. What we do know for certain is that there is a reality bending anomaly and that we entered it after hearing an intercom announcement in an office building. The anomaly is probably sentient, someone had to send that announcement out. And they haven't killed us. So clearly, they don't want us dead… yet. So, judging from what information we have, the safest bet is to push onwards, gather new knowledge, and react accordingly in the best manner to complete the mission."
Sharpe gave a twisted face of discomfort at the idea, but gave the order to the rest of the team to back up. The Vessel believed that Iris was turning out to be a much better leader than Sharpe. They thought that the friction between the two of them might be an issue, but Sharpe was clearly too much of a pushover to actually do anything about it.
The rest of the team gathered their gear back into their packs as Alexei gave Cactusman a pat on the back. He had figured out how to change the magazine without any outside assistance. A small feat, but any improvement was better than nothing. After only a brief respite, they stood around. Agent Sharpe stared at each of the hallways for a long time.
Iris commanded, "Everyone, follow me."
She began down a path and the team followed closely behind. The only exception was the Vessel, who followed only loosely; they were bouncing around ecstatically. They were finally on the move once again and they ached to travel around once more; the idea of danger didn't intimidate them. They pranced around, still as quiet as a feather on their feet as they walked. They searched for any irregularity in the walls. There were none, even the ever so slight moisture damage to the papering repeated itself every few paces. Still they looked around; they were enjoying the adventure. Cactusman and Han spoke hushed words between themselves.
"This is a little unnerving."
"It's not so bad, the green's a nice color at least."
"That's true, and there haven't been any real monsters yet. But I can't really relax, the whole situation feels so artificial. It's just, nagging at me."
Alexei followed behind the pair silently, keeping on alert for any potential threat. He had one arm free and by his holstered pistol. Even as he lugged the hunk of metal, he refused to allow himself to be caught off guard.
Sharpe pulled up the rear, watching the rest of the team. His emotions were becoming mixed now. He felt stepped on as Iris had taken control of the whole situation
As they traveled forward, an intersection appeared before them. It wasn't like it snapped into existence or like it was hidden. It was as if they noticed something that had always been there. A sense of nostalgia and familiarity for something the team never knew overtook them for the briefest pause. They stared around, agape for a moment. The wallpapering had changed subtly without their notice. The walls were now a pale tan. The hallway they had just come from was a pale tan. It had always been a pale tan. It would always be a pale tan. A mechanical hum droned through the walls. Cool air brushed over them.
Alexei gruffly noted, "The room has changed."
Iris glared around the atrium they found themselves in, "It would appear so."
The room did not seem to be intended for ease of use, nor any particular function. The previous intersection, no longer visible behind them, at least appeared to be a normal crossing between differing paths. Here, the room seemed less like a crossroads and more like endless repeated lines on a coordinate grid, perfectly symmetrical. The pathways crossed around each other like a room rendered poorly. It felt wholly artificial, and yet it did not seem intended for any human to use. Walls started and ended abruptly, more pillars than anything. No clear sense of direction was to be found. It was like a gap in reality attempting to mimic human design.
Sharpe looked around and gave a sharp exhale of annoyance.
"Alright. We've found another intersection, more or less coming out to more of the same. You made your point, but there's nothing new here. We really should make contact with command now."
He paced around and with a gesture of his arms towards Iris he added, "Not any new knowledge here."
Iris said nothing and turned her head upwards towards the cool draft. A vent in the ceiling was present. The air it was blowing was just barely too cold to be comfortable. It was as though someone understood that an office building would have such ducts but didn't understand the purpose behind them. She paced off to one side of the room, not leaving the line of sight. She thought to herself, "A vent means there's infrastructure equipment, and it's all functional if air is moving through it. It has to lead outside somewhere. But, it's small and there doesn't seem to be a way to follow it from down here. We could definitely fit The Vessel and Han in there, maybe Daniel too, he's scrawny. Sharpe and I, probably not. Alexei, definitely not."
She was roused from her thoughts as someone began to speak authoritatively and with haste. Agent Sharpe was ordering Alexei to hoist up Han and the Vessel into the open grate. Alexei felt hesitant, but decades of programming came back to him, an ordered was being shouted at him, and he faulted. He hoisted them both up, Han not resisting because he couldn't, the Vessel not resisting because they were curious where the vent went. A quick flash of metal from the Pure Nail and the vent was sliced open, small shavings of the cheap steel floating to the ground. Iris stared in shock for a moment as the display was rushed forward.
As Sharpe helped Cactusman onto Alexei's hands to be lifted up, Iris started forward.
"Sharpe, what the Hell are you doing?"
"I'm continuing the mission forward. Dangers be damned, our safest bet is to push onwards. We need to gather new knowledge! And look, new knowledge right there! Alexei lift him into the vent already!"
"Agent Sharpe, I do not think that he-"
"Alexei, shut up and do your job!"
Alexei would have ground his teeth if he had them still. He lifted harshly, but with enough care to ensure that Cactusman wouldn't be uncomfortable in the action. Cactusman himself was at a loss for words. The tension was obvious to him now, but he was completely oblivious to it before. He didn't want to stir the pot and accidentally make things worse between them. As he reached the ceiling, he looked around and pulled himself into the grate, Han sitting between the horns of The Vessel, who waved. He was able to sit on his hands and knees, enough room to turn around but not sit up.
Iris scoffed and turned towards Sharpe; they were both about to begin chewing each other out over the disconnect in communication. However, just as they opened their mouths to speak, a noise came from somewhere. It was low and metallic, a shuddering roll. Warbled iron groaned from an indeterminate source. All three people still on the floor drew their weapons. Iris and Alexei stood back-to-back, covering each other. Agent Sharpe stacked up on the nearest freestanding segment of wall, looking down a long sightline. The noise grew louder still.
Cactusman leaned over the mouth of the grate and asked, "What's going on down there?"
Alexei turned his head up, beginning to explain, when the air itself grew hazy. It was as though a bank of fog had begun to roll in. However, no mist filled the air. As the walls and floors and ceilings and people and everything turned to uniform gray, a sharp sound like shattering glass sounded throughout. For a moment, all senses were dulled and muted. As Alexei came to, he was laying on the floor. He pulled himself to his knees, his perception came to. He stared around, Iris and Sharpe both a few feet away, also prone. As he looked up, the halls were the same as before. He continued to look up and found the ceiling to be the same as before, with one noticeable absence. The grate was gone, and no trace of it ever having existed was to be found. The ceiling itself warbled slightly, a ghastly sound pouring through it like a membrane. It shook softly at first, like the ruffles of a bird's feathers. Then, impossibly, the doorways to the side room were sealed off by the walls around them and squeezed together, the sound of splintering glass, drywall, and wooden studs drowning out the shouts of the three trapped between them.
The Vessel, Han, and Cactusman were stunned. The duct shook violently around them, banging groans of metal and suddenly it was dark. It was like the world itself had shut off, the air had gone still. No sound could be heard, the metal turmoil had ceased, but Cactusman could not hear his own breath, either. Cactusman and Han felt spikes of terror as a void of darkness encapsulated them, the Vessel felt ease at familiarity, though they were concerned at how their teammates might fair. Eventually, though, they came to. They were no longer in the confined, metal tube. All three of them got to their feet and began to look around.
They were no longer in the facsimile of an office building. Instead, the three of them found themselves in a new hallway. Doors lined down a structure that seemed to stretch out to infinity in either direction. Over each door was three numbers in simple lettering, and they could see no pattern in their order. The repeated inlaid light fixtures cast out only a choked light. The lights shrouded the hallway in dim twilight. The long shadows cast a sad and mournful aura. Each faded green door was identical and monotonous down to even the minute flecks of paint applied perfectly in their thin coats. The single sheets of sanded wood were solid constructions. No mark of personality was visible on the doors. Thin carpeting ran down the floor, a single sheet of beige. Not even simple geometric coloring traced it to break up the ugly smear underfoot. The walls crushed in around them, claustrophobic and suffocating. They were a bland and stale brown, lacking any variation. They were like monoliths, filling their eyes with such muted grandeur that it felt as though the world itself was painted that way. The only decorations were potted plants placed exactly between the doors, some unfamiliar yet uniformly boring ferns. They didn't even have the decency to be real plants, merely frail plastic imitations of life. Their new reality betrayed no hand of any great architect. It was devoid of even the tiniest of gouges or stains or imperfections of any kind. It felt wholly artificial with only limited purpose.
Cactusman jumped to his feet, nearly bucking Han from his shoulder. His breathing turned to rapid stabs of air, panic overcoming him.
"Oh God, oh God, where are we, this can't be normal, what's going on?"
Han was trying to calm him, "Look, Iris said we were going to be dealing with a reality bender. We know what we're throwing hands with, we can recoup ourselves and figure this out!"
The Vessel was on alert. They had been bullied around by those with teleporting magic before, they were looking around for the telltale signs of the soul ley lines. None presented themselves. They all perked up as a voice crackled to life. It reverberated out from the very walls around them.
The rational part of the mind screamed danger at them, every part of them knew that the walls could not speak. And yet the sound oozed out like honey, overpowering them as the emotional part of their mind was deceived into something resembling comfort.
"Welcome, to my meet and greet."
They saw someone appear. The shadows that were cast on the walls grew darker, sloughing downwards and over the floor around their feet. The walls themselves folded in on themselves, sliding impossibly, boxing the three in together.
The form of a murky figure began to coalesce. It was vaguely humanoid, but there were no limbs, no features, nothing but the silently orbiting streams of black fear. Where the head would have been, something began to emerge. A mute grey began to punch out through the dark backdrop. It was a stone mask. It was lacking in feature, the only thing being a slanted pair of eyes. The engravings tilted inwards, forming a dead yet menacing glare. They seemed to mourn, though they told not for whom.
Her presence trailed around once more, forcing them into a calmness even as they stood terrified. The Vessel felt something at the edges of their thoughts, but it failed to penetrate. Even still, they drew their blade and readied themselves just in front of the others.
The figure shuddered for a moment, an airy sound reverberating like the mimicry of laughter. "I'm sorry, that was a little too corny, even for me. My name is Marie, and welcome to my personal labyrinth." A question came from around her mask, "Who are you? I can hear the voices of two, and yet the breath of only one."
Cactusman and Han were both sweating, but found themselves unable to speak.
"Don't say anything. We shall meet soon enough."
The grip around them loosened, and they released their breath. They were unaware that they had even held it. The Vessel themselves felt the presence leave. It was entirely alien, but still had traces of something similar within it. Something they had felt in the troupe's tents, something in the gardens, and something they had felt in the remnants of the white palace. They could not feel anxiety in the same way that more living beings might, but they were certainly uncertain of the future. The figure returned to murky shadow, spreading over the walls like mycelium tendrils. They encompassed the room and pulled on the fabric of the ceiling, caving it in and enveloping the three.
Contra tapped at her computer slowly. She had worked at breakneck pace for two days to clear up a few hours of time to dedicate to a more personal study. Originally, she had planned to assign the assignment to the two researchers already working on the anomalous radiation in Florida. But, if her hunch was correct, it had personally impacted her. That was simply not something she could abide. Aside from all that, there was the risk that some foreign object was controlling her staff. Another thing she could not abide. They were not to be subject to the whims of some other bizarre phenomenon.
And unfortunately, her suspicions had been confirmed. She had reviewed the data from the Monitor. The radiation levels within the site had in fact decreased nearly to the hour in which she began to regain control of her faculties. She couldn't account for the anecdote of the monitor himself, but at least two dozen staff members among different departments had reported fatigue, exhaustion, and lucid dreaming at elevated levels. And they had all dropped simultaneously over the course of a single day. She knew better than to confuse correlation and causation, but there was certainly a link between the two and the odds of a coincidence were beyond reasonable doubt. Further testing would be required to ensure it wasn't a third-party agent causing both or some kind of a complete fluke.
Her curiosity led her to browse the internet trends in South Florida. If the radiation itself had been what affected her site, then it would likely have had some effect on the region at large. A few taps and clicks later, and the conglomerated results from several webcrawlers were compiled. Reviewing that data as well had shown a similar correlation. Since the first recorded instance of the radiation, now designated SCP-8546, had appeared in the lower atmosphere, the rates of seasonal depression, BPD, and various substance abuse cases had skyrocketed. The case rates acted as a sort of smoking gun to identify potential victims of SCP-8546. The rate at which they had increased had been gradual enough to not warrant too much alarm. But now, Contra began to see a troubling pattern. The radiation was somehow self-selecting cases. Affected individuals dropped in number until most areas were normalized, though insular pockets remained at even higher levels. Those pockets were enough to drag the mean radiation level higher even as the total number of affected individuals dropped, they were extreme outliers.
Contra closed her desktop. She needed to see exactly what was happening to those extreme cases. She certainly didn't have the time to do it herself. She had fought for days to get just a few hours of time for a personal interest. But now, she had reasonable suspicion to mark the case as official Foundation business. Luckily, there were two researchers she could assign to the project and in the field for study.
Alexei woke to the smell of dirt. He pulled himself to his feet. He scraped dirt out of his eyes. As he came to his senses, he was shocked. Above him was an infinite inky sky, pocked by galaxies and stars and all the wonders of the universe. It was a beautiful sight.
However, his old sense as a soldier quickly snapped him out of being awestruck. He took in his surroundings. The expansive decaying office complex had been replaced by an expansive boreal forest. A thin layer of snow blanketed the spruces trees around him. The terrain was rough, and pockmarked by craters. Water trailed around in thin veins, pooling in the low spots of the terrain. Through a clearing in the trees, a mountain rose. Despite the frigid temperature, no snow or ice was on the mountain, and at the top a purple spark gleamed like a gemstone. His mind felt foggy; he found it hard to focus on anything, and yet, the whole scene around him felt inexplicably familiar.
He tried to focus and readied his gun. He couldn't risk being surprised by some enemy guerilla force. Something tickled at the back of his mind. There was no sound but that of wildlife. A bird tweeted indistinctly, and a small rodent squeaked from somewhere in the brush. He stood at attention for five minutes, before relaxing slightly. While the sense of being watched maintained its grip over his shoulder, if an enemy force was present, they refused to act.
He needed to find supplies. The provisions on his back would be enough to last him for a few days if restricted his caloric intake, but it would not extend further than a week.
And so, he marched forward over branch and brush. There was something so very familiar about this landscape, but it was as though a wall had been built in his mind. He could not recall what memory it was exactly even as it tore at his emotions.
He stepped over a felled tree, scorch marks running in abstract patterns inconsistent with any fire he had seen before. It wafted off a strange scent, like a combination of cinnamon and sulfur. He continued onward, there was nothing else interesting about it. The ground was becoming increasingly wet, water streaming forward in the direction he walked. The path through the woods began to pen outwards before stopping abruptly at a riverbed.
To his left and his right, a swath of pebbles, rocks, and boulders, interspersed with the occasional rotten log made up a riverbed. However, the water had been reduced to merely a few meandering cracks. Once spring came around, it would surely be torrential, but in the early winter, it was low. He looked up and down, not able to make anything out further than a hundred meters in either direction. Something in his mind pulled again, straining against chains to not follow the river. But his feet compelled his body forward with a sense of duty. The gravel crunched under his heavy feet, parting before him. The trees around the bank thickened as he traveled. He still could not see anything in the distance.
His foot stumbled.
He looked down, and a curious object laid in the bank. It was a discarded artillery shell as long as his forearm. The ordinance had been detonated; black powder was burnt all over it. Around the base, characters were etched on in Cyrillic, but for some reason the words would not make sense to him. He was beginning to believe he was concussed. He kicked it over, revealing some glowing rune, and began to march forward again. As he continued along the riverbed, the novelty of the shell wore off as new ones kept unearthing themselves, everything from meter-long pieces that seemed to push the bounds of absurdity, all the way down to pistol and rifle caliber casings. Every piece had uniform runes carved into them that glowed with purple malice. Eventually, the riverbed was fully buried beneath the artifacts of war. His legs felt heavy, as though he were trudging through molasses. He felt extreme dissonance between easy relaxation and mind-numbing anxiety. He knew something was wrong. Something felt wrong. And yet, he was at ease.
"Welcome home, Alexei."
Alexei spun around, back at attention, his pistol leveled at the head of someone who was not there before. It was a woman who radiated exotic beauty, even though her face was covered entirely by a sad stone mask. A silk and satin dress draped itself over her pale skin. She seemed almost skeletal.
"Identify yourself."
"Alexei, you know who I am. I was always going to come for you. I would not leave you wandering forever."
"I am going to repeat. Identify yourself."
She walked around him, seeming to float over the uneven brass terrain. The sound of water began to pick up. Her head tilted towards Alexei, entirely expressionless.
"This purgatory is of your own making, you know. I did not design this expanse. I would say that deep, deep down you had hoped this time would come."
Alexei lowered his pistol but remained attentive. His mind was feeling less clouded. He was beginning to remember why this place seemed so familiar. His mouth was beginning to fall agape.
"You, witch! What is this?!", Alexei accused. His voice was only barely recognizable, a snarl more than speech.
She cooed, "Now, now. Keep yourself calm. You knew this day would come. Look around you, do you not recognize it? This is where you died, where you were born. This is your judgement, Alexei."
Alexei's heart dropped as every memory flooded back at once. The water around him was rising, it had turned a deep red. The water rose and feel, washing away brass and stone. Arms, legs, hands, and feet were revealed. They were all clammy, drained of blood, and entirely disembodied. Those that were still intact enough to show flesh were all branded with serial numbers. Just beneath the designations were soviet flag tattoos sporting a four-pointed star just below the hammer and sickle. A mound of limbs and bones and all the detritus of corpses piled up underneath Alexei. Ghostly shouts of agony screamed through the clearing, only interrupting by spats of gunfire and artillery shells and the warping sounds of occult castings.
Alexei did not even notice that he had fallen to his knees when the woman placed a long and bony finger under his chin and lifted his head up.
"This is your past, Alexei. You cannot run from it. Judgement comes for all, in the end. You know what you must do now."
Agent Sharpe woke to the smell of ammonia. He pulled himself to his feet. He wiped water out of his eyes. As he came to his senses, he was disgusted. He was bent over, his face in a rank mop bucket. It was thankfully empty, having spilled over the floor. He was soaked through, dripping onto the floor as pulled himself first to his knees, then to his feet.
His head was pounding, he had a horrible migraine. He could hardly focus his sight on anything, and the single hanging bulb from the ceiling was too painful to even place within his peripheral vision. He did not notice a body dangling from the ceiling by the neck. It cast a thick shadow over the only exit. He flopped against the door with his shoulder, lazily forcing it open. He stumbled through the doorway, clumsily landing on his feet on a bed of grass.
The smell of nature overcame him. He walked forward through a beautiful floral garden. Thorned roses adorned lattices which lined the borders of the garden. Red, yellow, and blue wildflowers poked up through the dirt. Sunlight filtered through the broad oaks overhead, blue beams of light unnaturally marking geometric patterns on the floor below. Vines twisted around, mangled messes of plant flesh. They occasionally ended in large flowering buds, centered by a human eye a foot around. He did not notice two bodies held aloft in the vines, both by the neck. As they floated lazily, they blotted out the thin blue lights that filtered through.
As Sharpe stumbled forward, he began to register his environment more clearly. He looked around, some sense of familiarity washed over him. As he wracked his mind, he stepped between two trees and the environment around him changed once again.
He was beginning to feel vertigo as the world around him was warping rapidly. The taste of bile burned the back of his throat. His knees buckled underneath him and he fell backwards, landing in an office chair that was not present before. The ground was replaced with linoleum tiles. The tiling parted as enormous towers of filing cabinets shot upwards, stray papers floating down like feathers. He turned forward to see a woman sitting behind a desk. The ornately carved wood was covered in various odds and ends. She was dressed in a formal suit. Her hair was tied back, and everything about her was neat and orderly, except her face. The woman stood up, and her face entirely hidden underneath a heavy stone mask. She walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled open a drawer.
"Ah, is it 3:00 already? Good, it's time to discuss your career."
Sharpe rubbed his eyes and blinked twice, the headache and vertigo draining away as he looked at her. Everything else seemed fuzzy and hurt to look at, but she felt as though she grounded his reality.
"Uhh, yeah. Ok, what did you want to talk about?"
"Well, let's first talk about your qualifications. You've been involved in a few different scenarios, yes?"
"I'm sorry, who are you?"
The woman froze in place. Her mask was now deadlocked with Sharpe's eyes. The world around them became fuzzy and amorphous as she spoke.
"I am your supervisor. I am considering sending you to investigate an organization. This organization stole several artifacts from one of our convoys. Answer my questions."
Sharpe felt a ringing in his ears and felt as though he were going to vomit. Hot blood dripped down from his nose. There was a pressure building in his chest as his heart beat faster and faster each second. He felt as though his body were going to collapse.
The woman sat down behind her desk again, a manilla folder in hand. The grasp around Sharpe slackened and he deflated, the pain and pressure gone. As he reoriented himself, his mind felt dissonance.
"Let's be friends here, I don't want us to start off on the wrong foot. Now, let's start again. We've sent you on missions before. Why don't you tell me about how it went? According to this file, it was in a mixed-use commercial apartment block. Tell me, how did it go."
Sharpe knew that what was happening was wrong. Nothing made sense. He was confused. But, he felt compelled to share. And so, he shared.
"Well, it was back when I was still a green agent. I had only done a few field missions that point, and even then those missions just saw me running paperwork duty as they did the important stuff. So, really, I guess it was the first time I actually saw what the anomalous world is like. The Foundation is just like that you know? They can't prepare you for anything really, no matter how much training you have, your first real experience will always just be being thrown in the deep end."
The woman just chuckled and gestured him to continue.
"So yeah, there was some sort of building out in New York. We had thought it was just a regular building and the real anomaly was just a magic fridge in it. As it turned out, there were six-legged food-dogs that worshipped the damn thing, and the whole structure itself was sentient, like the movie Monster House, if you've ever seen that. The mission was successful, we contained the fridge which basically put the house in a coma, and then we condemned and cordoned off the block."
"I see, so, what was your role on the magic fridge heist?"
"I was the point man. They put me in body armor and gave me a gun, but weren't actually expecting any resistance. I was just supposed to go in first and get an idea of the situation before the more valuable assets went in to contain the skip. Like I said, I was still green, and I went in carelessly. There was a janitor's closet that I failed to clear. The door was locked so I figured it wouldn't be an issue, but I didn't mention it to the team. Afterwards, one of those stupid fucking dogs broke down the door. It went down in a few shots cause it was literally only made of watermelon, but it managed to tear out the throat of one of the guys. He bled out in less than two minutes."
"How unfortunate." The woman wrote something in a composition notebook. She continued, "So, why don't you continue on with your story? You should feel free to relax, this isn't an interrogation. I believe you had an investigation into a garden."
"Oh, yeah. I had some other field missions that would surely be more relevant—"
"No."
"—well, yeah. We were called up because there was a tough nut to crack. Some garden started growing sentient life, like, walking talking plants. Sort of. They didn't really speak any particular language, but it was close enough, I suppose. The eggheads had it all locked down, but they went a bridge too far, as always. They took a live sample of one of the creatures to test flammability, and as it turned out, they weren't creatures, plural. They were a creature, singular, one shared mind. Didn't like the torch too much, and so the Flytraps from Venus developed a taste for human meat and shredded every goon on the block. When we got there, it was a mess. There was so much green flesh and red gore it looked like Christmas. Well, me and few others were sent in to figure out if the plants had fortified the site and get a read on how we'd recover the situation. We're going through the site, and it looked like shit. Lots of growth, but no contact. Eventually, we came to a garden. The site was built like a donut with an enclosed atrium in the middle, that's where we were. At least, according to the blueprints we got."
Sharpe took a deep breath and was sweating profusely. Dark stains of sweat and blood mixed on his shirt now, the flow of blood from his nose just beginning to slow. His vision was blurring. Each breath felt deep and clear, unnaturally so. The rational part of his mind screamed to shut up and shoot, but he felt a vice grip around the edges of his mind. It was like he had been drinking all night and couldn't stop talking, rational thought slowed.
"So, we get to the atrium, and it was completely overgrown. There were vines everywhere, they covered every wall and surface, completely blocked out the sunlight from above. They had openings on them that glowed a deep hue of blue light. It was eerie. We saw no apparent danger and pushed in to clear it. It was beautiful, in a sort of alien way. It felt entirely surreal as the vines slowly shifted around. It came to an end though. My foot caught on the thorn of one of the larger vine trunks, at least a meter in diameter. It was like the whole garden snapped shut, the door we came in was wrapped up in plants. There were a few windows that we saw going in, and those were ripped apart and filled in with plants too. It became a twilight lit up only by the blue sap that oozed out of the scars in the vines. That sap, it burned to the touch. It grabbed Jack first, the vines pulled around his ankles like a snare, the sap burning through his uniform, skin, and eventually I assume bones. It grabbed Olivia next, and she had the same fate. I would've been next, too. Instead, it took its time. I had to listen to them scream for nearly four hours. I still don't know why I got out. I mean, eventually the team they sent in after we failed to return contact burned the doors open, but it didn't kill me. I don't know why I'm still here."
The woman interrupted, "I don't know why you're here either."
Sharpe startled in his place, the question breaking his train of thought. He paused for a moment, trying to answer the question. He tried desperately to parse the meaning.
She smirked, the stone warping, "Why are you following The Church of Steel?"
"I have no idea what The Church of Steel is."
The woman shifted in her seat for a moment. She gleaned enough to twist the knife, but she still needed motive before prosecution and execution. And on top of that, she still had to make a report. She decided to do so after this interview.
"Under your latest mission, were you not told who you were following? You led an expedition into an abandoned office complex as of recent, did you not?"
Agent Sharpe continued to stare for a moment. The gears grinded in his head until a grip slackened slightly, and his vision sharpened. The blood stopped flowing from his nose, clotting where it stood.
"Ah, yes. My apologies, Director. We had to chase some group of interest following a convoy raid. This group of interest stole several artifacts from one of our convoys" His voice trailed off with the last sentence, faint recognition in his voice. His eyes shifted. "We couldn't directly locate them as they used a reality warping anomaly to alter the region around the pass the convoy was traveling through at the time. It dissolved not long after, and the site was a wreck. They used some smash and grab tactics similar to certain sects of the Church of the Broken God, but our intel didn't support them being behind the attack. Some physical evidence was left behind, mostly spent casings. However, there was also a whole garbage truck that was thrown over the side of a cliff and through the escort's car. Using some cards and phones left in the truck, we traced the contact information back to an American group of guns-for-hire that have been working with paranormal groups for years. We followed them back to an office complex. I led the team in, and we began to clear the facility. After securing the lobby, the intercom mentioned some sort of meeting a few floors up. We went up and entered some sort of recursive reality bubble. We knew that whatever caused the warping around the raid site was present there. So we trekked through. Unfortunately, we got split up after I had a disagreement with one of the members with seniority and I rushed the team through. The ceiling fell in, and… the ceiling caved in. I, um, I'm having trouble recalling."
The woman smiled, the stone mask twisting into a grin. "So, you were given three chances, and you blew all three of them. Certainly, a dismal track record."
She stood up sharply , wind from nowhere began to whistle. Papers were pulled into a vortex, and two of the towering filing cabinets leaned into each other with a metallic clash, raining office debris. Sharpe couldn't tell if it was his heart or if drums had begun to bang incessantly. It was a hurricane of sound
"You got your team killed over and over, time and time again. Your incompetence, your failures, your luck has run out. My patience for you has run out, you are being terminated."
Snow fell in the night once again as workers pushed a train car into a railyard. Their cog chain necklaces chafed against skin in the freezing cold, but they worked on. The car had decals painted to mimic the Amtrak machines that traveled the rails in the area. Inside it was a tangle of steel and patchwork designs. It was outfitted with bunk beds and a mess hall, one among dozens. The other cars in the yard were already layered in snow and their windows frosted over.
After the car was pushed into place, the workers returned in from the cold. The complex they worked in was comforting, the sounds of machines a lullaby at night, the warmth of burning coal a soothing embrace. The words of their leader's sermons were all they needed for comfort.
Their leader, however, had not been seen in a day. He had not left his office at the top of the tower. They all knew he was working on something big, The Eye of the Engine, but he had yet to unveil it. They held faith in him. They believed he would lead them to a new dawn, salvation. They held absolute faith.
Eric poured over a large machine. He had replaced the table the pipe was set on with a stone slab and moved all metal objects far away from it. It was a stolen MRI machine, repurposed to guide a magnetic field through designated space. For days he poured over it, focusing it. Magnetic fields extend indefinitely through space looping around their poles and cannot be stopped be any known material. However, they can be redirected, the basis of magnetic shielding. As he directed them around, he could focus their strength onto the pipe, the core within rattling around the hairline cracked casing. The light from within slowly grew brighter, pressing through the widening fissures.
Eric reduced the power and the pipe stopped rattling. He didn't want to crack it open just yet, merely to prove that the gift within could be moved without the casing. As the whirring of the MRI diminished, his phone began to ring. The elation from his successful experiment evaporated as he recognized the number.
Eric sounded very exasperated as he answered the call, "Yes, Marie?"
A bubbly voice responded, "Don't sound so exasperated, I have good news!"
"Go on."
"I discovered who was following up on our little raid in Virginia, and I have them all locked up here with me now. They're with an organization called The Foundation. Apparently, they deal with all sorts of strange quirks, like you and me! It would explain why they sent such a heavily armed team after us; did I mention they were heavily armed? They were. I was able to break into the minds of four of them, easily, I might add. One escaped my effects, but she'll be dealt with after I speak to her."
"Oh, that is good news."
"Don't sound so surprised, when have I ever let you down?"
"I am not going to answer that. Put her on the phone if you'd please. I have questions."
"No, I can't. Not right now at least. They're not locked up literally, they're locked up in a more metaphorical sense."
"I see. Whenever you're done torturing them, please bring back the remains intact. I want at least one this time. Please at least try to get some useful information out of your victims for once."
The phone call clicked and hung up.
Eric pinched his nose. Marie would be back soon, and that meant she would be back in his hair. He just couldn't seem to be rid of her for more than a week or two, as though it was some law of the universe to punish him with her presence. And he couldn't even get rid of her, she had rooted herself in the Church. Every time he tried to remove her it was like a wall formed in his head, stopping his words in his throat, or staying his hands from his tools. And even worse than that, with her presence he had to keep Jerry around as some kind of defense. His obsession with obscene loud noises was the best defense against a reality bender, if Marie ever tried anything. Not that it would help, but something was better than nothing. Although, Jerry's personalities and habits might as well have been worse than nothing on its own.
He took his hands off the console of the magnetic field generator and pocketed his phone. He breathed deeply in, he breathed deeply out. He had a sermon to give, he had to organize the construction of The Eye, and now he had to act to deal with the almost certain reprisals of the shadowy organization on his tail. He took a deep breath once again, clenching and unclenching his vice grip of iron. It was time to act. It was time to disappear into the rails.
It was time to begin building God.
Iris woke to the smell of musty wood. She sat up straight and wiped dust out of her eyes. She was in a plain house and sat at a wooden table. Light filtered in through windows. She stood up, pushing the chair back. As it moved over the wooden floors, it was supposed to make a loud screeching groan. But the sound was muffled, as if it was traveling through thick walls. The air was dry but it felt heavy, it gripped her with heavy hands.
Muttering a curse under her breath, she took in her surroundings carefully. There was furniture all around her, covered first by white sheets and then a layer of gray dust. A soft breeze blew through the room, kicking up tufts of grit that cycled through the air. The wallpaper was faded and the patterns on it were indiscernible. The room felt very generic. There were an even dozen windows, and even though the glass was caked in filth, she could see outside. However, there wasn't anything outside. It was gray dirt and gray mist, extending until the view was too choked to see. The only other feature was a door, which was a striking brown mahogany.
Iris checked her bag. She still had her polaroid in its case, and she took it out. She took a picture of the room, the flash briefly overpowering the gray monotony. As the picture developed, her heart stopped as she couldn't find her gun. Both it and the ammunition she had spare were gone, leaving mere outlines where they had stopped dust from settling.
A thud came behind her and she jumped back slightly. The white drop cloths over what were presumably chairs and a couch were moving, ever so slightly, but they were moving. She closed the bag, checked that the photo developed properly, and pulled the door open quietly. The hinges creaked but were nigh inaudible through the slow speed of their movement and dampening effect of the room. She closed the door behind her and found herself to be in a thin hallway, surrounded by mirrors. She leaned against the mahogany and looked at the picture. She could see the drop cloths moving. Eventually, they all stilled except for one, which had a spindly arm with skin so pale it blended in with the monochrome environment slowly draw itself out from hiding. It reached towards the window, the space itself pulling in, ten feet becoming one. The hand effortlessly opened a window, and the fog flooded in, dissolving the room into gray. The polaroid photo grayed out, and Iris could see nothing behind through it anymore. Part of her wanted to open the door and see what happened, but another part shouted that idea down.
As she turned around, she began to walk down the hallway to another mahogany door, identical to the first. The mirrors on either side of her were caked in grime, just like the windows. The grime was so thick that she couldn't see anything through it. She ran a finger over the surface, the murk coming away onto her finger. She peered onto the surface, only seeing her blue eye staring back. The hall made her uncomfortable but was otherwise mundane. She opened the opposite door and entered into the new room. She did not notice the blue eye continuing to stare at her through the mirror as gray fog poured through the glass around it.
Iris entered the third room, a child's bedroom. It was faded and dim, but not monochrome. The bed had pastel blue quilts, worn with age. A chair in the corner was covered in dust, covering up the pink fabric stretched over it. A chest full of wooden toys with scratched paint and dolls with stuffing poking out of seams laid at the foot of the bed. The closet was open, a series of faded pastel blue sundresses that gradually increased in size, though moths had clearly been through them. In one corner was a bureau, the top of which was adorned with family photos. Every photo had a mother and father in formal wear, with a daughter in a blue dress with them. In some they were in a large yard, in others they were on a boat somewhere. The family seemed to be a perfectly normal, if affluent, family. The only strange thing was that the faces had been scratched out in every photo. The curtains were drawn shut, though dim light filtered through, enough to make the room visible. There wasn't another door for her to walk through, and as soon as she turned her back, the entryway rolled itself over with plaster, drywall, and wallpaper.
Iris leafed around in the toy chest, rifled through the closet, and opened every drawer of the bureau. She pulled the curtains open and stared outside, the same gray waste from before staring back at her. She searched for anything that she could use to defend herself, or at least explain what was happening. Although, she knew what was happening. She was placed into a prison constructed by a reality bender. The room itself was entirely mundane and she was entirely alone.
A voice behind Iris spoke, "You can stop that now."
She turned slowly, trying to show how the words made her skin crawl.
The room had vacated of furniture, being replaced by an ornate wooden table with two antique chairs. One of the chairs was being used by a woman wearing a heavy stone mask. Around her neck was a heavy chain laden with a chrome gear. She was wearing a blue dress, but other than that, she seemed entirely unremarkable.
She continued, "Please, take a seat. I mean you no harm, now."
Iris didn't trust her, but felt as though she had no choice. This woman, presumably the reality bender, could kill her where she stood regardless. At the very least, in conversation, she might be able to glean something to use against her captor. Iris adjusted her bag over her shoulder, a hand movement inside the cover. She pulled out the chair and sat down.
Iris narrowed her eyes, "Who are you?"
The woman chuckled, "Straight to the point. Everyone seems to be that way these days. My name is Marie. May I have your name?"
"Iris."
"Don't be so curt. We have all the time in the world right now, and we both know the only reason you're still alive is because I wanted us to have a conversation, so play nice."
Iris rolled her eyes. "I won't give you any information for free. For every question I answer, I want you to answer one of mine."
Marie clapped her hands in excitement, "Oh excellent! There's just something I love so much about someone who is in no position to bargain and yet continues to anyways! Persistence is the greatest of all virtues, you must know. I agree to your terms, I do love these games. Now, as your lord here, I elect to start."
She slammed both her hands down on the table and stared with eyes of stone, "Who do you work for?"
"It's called The Foundation. Who do you work for?"
The Mask Marie wore disfigured into a twisted frown, not quite accurate to the human face. "I was hoping you could tell me a little bit more than that."
"I answered your question in its entirety. If you wanted me to be more specific, you should have been more specific in your questioning."
"Oh, fine then! We can be that way." The stone mask twisted back into a smile, the grin reaching a little higher than it had before. "I am a member of the Church of Steel. Why did you try to pay a visit to some random PMC set up in some random mid-size city?"
Iris deadpanned, she couldn't believe that this Marie was trying to play dumb now of all times, "Because this 'random PMC' staged an attack on an important convoy. We were sent to investigate the aftermath and followed up on a potential lead."
"Oh, like a gang of detectives! How adorable, taking after Scooby Doo like that!"
"So why would you attack them, what were you looking for? Everything was taken, including the drivers."
"Oh, we were just looking for valuables, special things. You and I both know what was in those trucks. As for the drivers? Oh, sometimes you need leverage in negotiations. And on that note, are you all going to be our, negotiators?"
"I lack the authority to carry out negotiations in any official capacity..." Iris froze as she parsed the last sentence. "Where are you keeping the others?"
"Oh, finally! A very good question! I knew you had it in you! I got your whole band in one fell swoop. It's not a very easy thing, bending space itself, but I got the five of you when you all clumped together and started shouting. It made it very easy to locate you all. As for where, well? They're not too far from here, in a sense. To me, they're just a few feet in any direction, depending on who you wanted to go to. For you, or for them, you all might as well be an ocean apart."
Marie waved both her hands, and the room melted away, leaving only a vast white nothing everywhere. It was just Marie and Iris sitting at a table, surrounded by infinity.
"The second you stepped foot in the foyer of this building, I had you. I left you just enough crumbs to step further and further into my world. Just far enough for signals to the outside world to cease. Just far enough for me to have free reign over everything you see. To an outside observer, each of you are trapped in a column of white light, completely impenetrable. You might as well be entombed in marble. But inside? Oh, I ping little commands off your minds, touching all the areas that scurry around, awakening grief. I hardly have to do anything, and you all built personal Hells of your own. All that I had to do was give you all a little shove when the time was right. All, except for you."
"So, you've killed them, then?"
"Uh oh, it's not your turn to ask yet! Now, my question for you is also a very good one, at least in my most humble opinion. Why can't I see your thoughts? Everyone else was more or less an open book, but I can't see anything. I constructed that house you walked through myself, I can tell that you're nervous right now but I don't know for what. Everything with you has to be manual for me. Who are you?"
Iris smiled. "I'm just an operative for The Foundation, nothing more, nothing less."
Marie narrowed her eyes, the stone mask contorting into a veneer of rage. "I have been nothing but honest with you so far. And you tell me a lie? Just because I can't see your thoughts exactly doesn't mean I can't see the shape of your words. I will pull the truth from you as easily I can pull a hen's teeth. Just because you're resistant to my power doesn't mean I can't break you. Enjoy your time in this abyss here, I'll be back, eventually."
Marie stood up and brushed out a crease in the fabric of her dress, patting herself down. The mask warped back into its original, neutral expression with only a faint smile.
"Goodbye."
Kain Pathos Crow was sitting at a computer monitor. The keyboard and headset had been specially designed to accommodate his dog form. On the screen was a satellite view of a city block in Richmond, Virginia. Set around the city limits were numerous yellow icons, and further back past those were a small handful of green icons. He was rapidly running location pings, over and over. But he couldn't find anyone. MTF Alpha-9 had fallen off the face of the Earth.
He turned into his mic, and belayed a command.
"This is Base Command for Alpha-9, come in Captain Brigham, come in Captain Brigham."
"Alpha-9 Command, this is Captain Brigham, of Pi-1. We are on standby at the bearings you provided and awaiting orders, over."
"Good to hear, locator pings have been run three times now, no response. You are free to move in, execute Primary Mission plan. Green light is a go. Try to keep a low profile but don't stray from the mission objective, Gamma-5 will be running misinfo."
As soon as the words left his mouth, a red ping popped up on the monitor. One of the location trackers sent out a response. It was damaged but live. As Kain selected it, he saw that it was SCP-8546-3. They had no life signs, but that was standard. They never did before. They were moving slowly through the building on the top floor. There was some sign of life.
"Captain Brigham, alter actions to Secondary Mission plan, we have identified the location of one of the SCP Objects lost on site. It is still active and moving. You are being giving greater authority, move in and secure the site."
"Acknowledged, Pi-1 moving out."
/Author's Notes
Wow, it has been ages since I last updated. My apologies, seriously. Life has been kicking my ass but I don't have any excuses. I had the time but no motivation to do so. Anyways, here's a chapter just shy of 10k words. I made the decision to split this into 2 chapters so that it wasn't even longer and I could get something out. Also, I opened a discord server for the fic! Everyone is welcome to join (and talk about any fics you want, not just this one). To join, simply copy and paste the following code: "9HrcaYtHHP"
I hope to see you all there, and that you all have a wonderful day!