It had been about 2 hours since Brandon's sudden entrance into the small group. Thankfully the alarms had stopped half an hour in, meaning they could enjoy the higher level of peace and the lower level of impending doom. That or an increased level of doom, they didn't know if the alarms had been turned off or if they had broken down completely. The lights had stopped flickering as much, so the large room's occupants hoped for the best.

When the warning sirens had still been echoing in the distance, the test subject and the soldier decided to do something about the bruised and lifeless bodies, which were still slumped on the floor. Ian had been rather purposefully ignoring them, but that was starting to feel more and more disrespectful. Brandon insisted that these men were criminals of the highest order, but that didn't change that they had died due to Ian's own failure. Again, Brandon tried to argue that if they had lived, the statue would have gotten out and cause havoc. And that it would probably have murdered him as well, as he tried to make his way to its containment room. This thought made the Scot a little more forgiving of himself.

It only took a few minutes, but the two men moved the bodies over to one of the walls. They were still a little warm. Since they didn't have anything to cover the deceased men's faces with, Ian sacrificed the rest of his jumpsuit, if only so he didn't have to look at the contorted expressions anymore. The one responsible for the carnage moved over to the opposite corner while its new friends were busy, cleaning up its mess. It returned to their sides when they were finished, however, but it didn't get very close again for a while.

After things had quietened down, and the two humans had agreed between themselves to keep their eyes shut, they chatted idly. Ian asked about the weather, because he was genuinely curious and hadn't seen the sun in far too long. Brandon asked about his companions work volunteering at a hillwalking association, because he had honestly never considered that to be a thing and because he truly didn't get out much.

The statue would occasionally shuffle around the two of them, taking turn sitting next to each of them. The brunet noticed that when he opened his eyes, the SCP was moulded into progressively more fluid positions when it returned to rigidity again. It would start by bending over a little, then kneeling, then moving its arms. One time, when Ian's eyes flickered open, it was sitting next the Brandon, matching his posture and position exactly; arms and legs crossed, leaning slightly to the left. He had to try his very hardest not to laugh so Brandon wouldn't open his eyes to look.

Then the conversation had faded. Brandon made several attempts to contact his superiors over his radio but received no reply. He parroted scripted messages, ones he'd been drilled to use to contact command and control. Then his talk became looser. He tried more general requests for assistance. He tried expanding on his messages, giving not only a location but a status update, informing the void that SCP-173 was still in containment. The people in charge liked to know those kinds of things, but given that it was a low priority call, anyone listening likely wouldn't care. Finaly he tried confirming that 173 had been neutralised, that it was 'non-hostile', and that its containment chambers were secure for personnel. He got no reply to any message. The device no longer seemed to be transmitting, probably due to the large black hole that had been melted into its side.

"You know, I could be shot for this." He joked and his expression made Ian nauseatingly aware that it was both a real possibility and something that Brandon had come to terms with. He had no reply of any worth, so he said nothing. There was a gentle shuffling, and then a loud bang, and when the two humans opened their eyes, the statue was standing near the door. Brandon's long abandoned gun ricocheted off the door and the floor, leaving dents in both. Ian blinked and Brandon ducked his head, expecting a misfire despite his empty clip, and in the intervening milliseconds the stature leaned over, picked it up again, and froze in a pitching pose.

Moving quickly Ian stood and wrestled the gun from its hand and stepped out of reach. He met with no resistance. when he blinked again, 173 returned to its more traditional posture, looking in his direction.

"What'd you do that for?" Ian asked quietly, before remembering he would get no reply. Brandon stood up slowly and took the gun from his hands. He cradled it briefly, as he'd been trained to, then lowered it to the ground. The muzzle was cracked and bent, and a patch damaged by acid had been split open. He kicked it away to the corner of the room.

"I don't think that'll help much… but… thanks." He said kindly, like he was talking to a child. The way his eyes creased in sympathy aged his face by years. He didn't miss that Ian was looking at him curiously, or that he was still tense. "Well it's not wrong… it might go over better if it looked like... I put up a fight." The morbid comedy of his tone remained. He smiled sadly, and blinked. The stature retired to the corner, facing away from them.

The pair sighed and sat back down, with their backs to the corner the statue curled into. 173 did not re-join them for a while. It seemed to sulk just out of sight.

Even after a while Ian could think of nothing to say that might remedy things. Brandon didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't mind. Eventually he lay on his back, with one arm behind his head, the other on his chest, and closed his eyes. He adopted a carefree smile, as if everything in the world was happy and good. His helmet was still sitting in the corner, where he had probably taken it off to better stare at 173. Ian thought to join him, but a strange stiffness in his body convinced him that he shouldn't move. So, he sat, cross legged, hunched over, lower back aching, for who knows how long.

After a while, 173 came and sat behind him. Then it too kept from moving. He wondered vaguely if it was mimicking him too. He wondered if Brandon was sleeping. He wondered if he would ever see sunlight again. He let himself sink in a mild melancholy, since there was nothing else to do. He might have stat there for hours, but probably not days because hunger had yet to sink its claws into him. All that time, nothing happened…

…Until there was a knock at the door. It rattled the metal in its frame and echoed around the room, in three sharp knocks. Something vile slamming its fists on the metal? Or simply an aggressive greeting? It wasn't clear…

Ian jumped like he'd been punched in the back, and Brandon shot upwards, right to his feet. Neither said anything, but 173 backed off into the far corner of the room, facing the door directly.

Another knock, three times the door shook. From outside, there were muffled voiced.

"People?" Ian asked, voice hushed. He leaned closer to the other, moving towards him quietly.

"It's not just people who can talk around here." Brandon whispered harshly back, his eyes not moving from the door.

Again, three knocks came, louder this time, stronger. Shaken by them, Ian replied, "Who is it?" and Brandon punched him in the arm.

"MTF gamma-77, responding to request for backup." A loud but muffled voice came shimmering through past the door.

Before they could finish, Brandon broke into a dead sprint across the few meters to the door. He pulled it open without thinking, as wide as it would go, and was rewarded by the presence of several armed men in full, unblemished armour. The actual number was masked by the darkness of the hallway.

"I didn't think you'd come." Brandon said, disbelieving. All Ian could see of the guards was the shine which lined their visors and weapons.

"I didn't think you were alive." The guard at the door responded, forgoing protocol. This seemed to bring Brandon to attention, and he saluted, and moved out of the way so they could enter. Out of reflex, Ian found himself raising his arms as 5 men entered, 4 of them pointed their guns in his direction. He glanced behind him and found that 173 had ventured out of the corner, and closer to him, but was now frozen. Its arms were down by its sides.

"We're also here to confirm your report of… neutralisation." The guard's commander added, and Ian realised it was the one who had first removed him from his room. For some reason, he began to feel embarrassed. Even more so when he sauntered over, gun held slack in his arms, and stood right in front of him.
"… Step aside please." He asked, and Ian took an exaggerated step to his left, and then began backing away, hands still in the air. Then he stared at the statue, and the statue stared at him, not that it had much choice. The guards behind him gave a call and response with every blink. No one said anything several seconds.

"You call that neutralised?" He said at last, tone cold, and he gestured flippantly to the corpses by the wall. Ian opened his mouth to reply, and even took a breath to speak, but decided against it.

The commander looked meaningfully over to Brandon and gave him a look that was hidden entirely by his visor, but which was seen and understood.

"The casualties were unfortunate, sir." Brandon reported, not squirming but rather setting like stone in a tight straight back's stance. He got a nod in return.

"It might be hard to prove anything with you all… staring at it." Ian pointed out, no longer wanting to be ignored and no longer fearing death. It had been one of those days… worse than the ones when he had worked in retail.

"You'll have plenty of time to prove it. The sites containment status had been restored to full security, as of right now." He said, turning on his heels and moving to leave the room. Ian felt the familiar feeling of a gun barrel pressing into his back and his arms shot up. He didn't mean to surrender, though it looked like that. All the time his eyes were fixed on 173. With all the emotional dexterity he could gather he gave a look that was both pleading for peace and begging for forgiveness. It was all he could do before he was hurried out of the room and the statue disappeared from sight. The darkness of the hall was blinding after the brightness of the containment chamber, and Ian stumbled as he was pushed on. He barley even saw the gaping hole left by 106's approach but he didn't miss the equally large exit hole it had made beside the door.

He didn't see what became of Brandon, or half the other guards as they peeled off into groups. Two of them half-shoved and half-lead him down darkened hallways by torch light. When the hall lights flashed on, he had barely a moment to blink and adjust to them before he was given a firm push. When he opened his eyes again, he was back in his room.

It was like he had never left.

He turned over in his mind the empty strain of the past few hours. Then he did what any reasonable human being would. He climbed into his cold, unforgiving bed and fell immediately asleep.

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Thus concludes a story 5 years in the making. This was really a treat to write, because unlike my other projects it has 0 pacing, so we can get straight to the MEAT of it. Thank you to everyone who commented, its really thanks to you that this exists, not that this is a huge accomplishment but I do appreciate and love all of you, because I had a dumb idea and you guys liked it. I knew could trust you guys. XD plus its nice to get some closure...

… whats that...? theres... at least 2 more parts to this? well well well, someones just going to have to post those here when they're done, aren't they? I don't know how done the next chapter is but... if its done I might post it tonight, just get it out there already XD

of course let me know what you think, just remember this aint my best work, we're here for fun!