The door was pulled shut behind Ian as he stepped in, most likely by Brandon but he didn't dwell on it. The room was more lavish than one would expect, but still sparsely furnished by all but foundation standards. There was an old, dark wooden writing desk in the centre of the room, looking very out of place among the grey concrete of the complex. It was littered with large piles of papers – mostly unfinished – that almost towered over the man sat there, who was slumped over it, writing studiously. He had black slicked-back hair, which had far too much product in it, and he was sat in a simple but certainly antique leather chair. He had abnormally grey skin which was stretched over his facial bones. His most prominent feature were his tiny, round-lensed glasses that perched on his short nose.

"Hurry up, sit down, I haven't got all day – I've got important things to do, so this can't take long." He commanded, not looking up. Ian hastily sat down in the metal chair provided. After a few seconds of hurried scribbling, the doctor looked up from his work and scanned Ian from his place at the desk, who shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare. After an unreasonable amount of glaring, the doctor sat up straight, pulled off his glasses and twirled them in his fingers. After a few more, painful seconds, he spoke again. "Do you know why you're here?"

His tone was entirely patronising, under the guise of an all-knowing teacher. That mattered far less to Ian than the question itself. It took him aback for a second. Why was he here?

He remembered that before this place, he had been in his home, reading, when there had been a knocking at his back door. Not a civilised, orderly three taps in a row… or even four, there was a series of crashes. He barely had time to drop his book before he realised his house was being forcefully broken into. He specifically remembered picking up his lucky charm. It wasn't particularly lucky, but he was fond of it, even though he had only had it for a few days. It was a simple silver ring on a leather string necklace, and it was the only thing that came to mind as he made quickly for the noise. He walked round the corner into his kitchen as his back door was busted down and a group of heavily armed soldiers in black armour stormed in. He caught only a glimpse of them, turning on his heal in the doorway and stumbling wildly back down the hall before any of them could yell "Stop". The next thing he knew, there was an agonising stinging in his back. The world spun. He tumbled to the ground as the sound of heavy boots marched towards him. He shifted his arms and legs meekly, but it just made him feel so tired. He didn't remember anything else.

Ian zoned back into the doctor in front of him, who was now glaring at him again. He didn't seem to like other people wasting his time as much as he enjoyed wasting theirs. Not that Ian had much else to be doing. he shook his head and did not elaborate on his obviously well-known confusion. Surely he wasn't looking for his backstory, and Ian had no patience for guessing games. The doctor smirked slyly, as if he realy was all knowing and all wise. Now he looked like a particularly cruel teacher. "I thought not" He said. He cleared his throat and slumped against the back of his chair.

"You are here, because you were in possession of a… let's say for your sake, an anomalous object, which had recently… Fallen out of the foundations hands." The bespectacled man reached into a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a small, metal box, with that Oh So farmiliar foundation insignia inscribed upon its surface. He reached into his pocket and rummaged around.

"You mean you lost it?" Ian had meant to mutter, but instead spoke clearly. The doctor's eyelids dropped as if his words had sucked the life out of him, and he froze in place for a moment, giving him a hard, cold look, that Ian sat unfazed through. Perhaps all the helmets he'd been speaking to had simply dulled him to the nuances of human expression, but he couldn't tell if it was anger, or if he was going to be sick. He neither confirmed nor denied Ian's statement.

Doctor Loanyard pulled a key card from his pocket and ran it across the top of the box. A red light on the top of the box came to life, and there was a click, short and sharp. He opened it and spent a long moment regarding whatever was inside. He seemed to be pretending that Ian wasn't in the room, or at the very least that he was less important than what was in the box. Even so, Ian sat still, waiting for whatever was to follow. He didn't feel anxious, or eager, but his body held a tenseness that he didn't notice until it was released as the contents of the box was turned to face him.

"Remember this?" Loanyard chimed, and Ian's eyes widened as they fell upon the ring he had found in the gutter. The one he was so fond of. The one he felt attached to. It sat there, as silver as ever, the length of cord he had fastened it to wound neatly around it where it lay upon a black velvet pillow. He reached for it, without thinking. But the doctor slid the box backwards, out of Ian's reach. Ian suddenly felt the urge to leap at the man, and take the box by force, but he restrained himself, and settled for glaring, hatefully, with pursed lips. He felt as though he was holding himself back by the skin of his eyelids. Beneath the table he clenched his fist, until he felt the sting of his nails digging into his palm. The doctor seemed almost pleased as he closed the box with a snap. Ian suddenly felt ever-so-slightly lightheaded. He took a deep breath and sat down from where he'd unconsciously leapt to his feet, as the ring had left his sight.

Doctor Loanyard sat back again into his chair, and it creaked. "Doctor Regent has been performing tests for the entire duration of your stay here, and it appears that you are somehow 'connected' to this item, his words. We do not know how. Even in his months of testing, Doctor Regent could only find small traces of a physical manifestations of its effect, being given off both by the item, and by you. However, he found nothing that linked you to it that could be quantified. The conclusion has therefore been made that there is, what we call, a Memetic connection, buried somewhere in your subconscious. For example, when the object was moved to the north side of the base, you moved to face the north facing wall of your cell. I do believe you were banging your head off the wall at this point." The doctor said, glancing at a sheet of paper on his desk. Ian swallowed against the dryness in his mouth. He almost made a comment about that not being the only reason for his erratic actions, but settled instead for good behaviour instead.

"We also noticed that, since you have been in foundation care, you have shown a number of anomalous properties. You seem to be immune to other memetic effects, and also to fatal damage through some form of what I would call 'Dumb luck'." He took a moment to analyse Ian down his nose. "Notably, it does not make you immune to non-fatal damage" he said, giving Ian a knowing, condescending glance before finding something more interesting to look at.

"Needless to say, these effects do not come from you yourself, though yove never been subject to fatal damage before, you have been successfully treated with amnesiacs during a… previous incident."

"What?" Ian asked without thinking.

"Yes precisely." The doctor added, now disinterested, readin over his notes, peering down through his well perched glasses. He then picked up the first sheet on the smallest pile, putting it to one side, and glanced at the next sheet, at this moment, he became more serious. "After your encounter with SCP-173, doctor Regent theorised that the Memetic connection between the object and yourself must be some form of 'memetic field', as he put it. We cannot measure this, for the obvious reason that it is itself an anomalous effect, but we know it exists, and in far more beings than you and this ring. It appears that in this case, the effect allowed you to connect with SCP-173 in a way, and during your time in containment with it, it must have caused some change in it, on some level. Due to this it seems to have gained, not only sentience, but also a level of sapience – equivalent to that of a small child." The doctor paused, observing the very fish like expression which had taken hold of Ian's face. When he finaly got a nod of acknowledgment, he continued, with no alteration to the tone of his lecture.

"Of course, your involvement in all of this may have no importance, it's just a theory. However my team and I are very anxious to confirm it, or potentially dismiss it." Doctor Loanyard pulled a file from a pile, sliding it out from the middle of a stack of papers, and handed it to Ian. "We want to test this memetic ability of yours on another SCP, under more… controlled circumstances." He stopped again, reading over his own notes, making a final check of things. "I am also memetic, and I have caused all test subjects that have entered containment with me for long periods of time to attempt to emulate my normal functions, which often results in the death of the test subjects." He added, seamlessly.

Ian raised an eyebrow. "Uhhh…. What?" he repeated again. It seemed to be the only word he needed. He felt like he should laugh, like it was some kind of joke… but it was really… very unfunny. It left a funny feeling floating in his stomach.

The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose, and unhappy look on his face. "My apologies. I am SCP-426, and I must be referred to in this way due to my memetic effect. No one is able to refer to me in anything but the first person." Ian narrowed his eyes at this and opened the file he had been handed. He pulled out the first sheet, which had a small envelope pinned to it. He opened this and pulled out a photograph. He stared for a moment.

"…It's a toaster."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Someone left a REALY NICE review last night, so I got off my ass and finished this next chapter.

Please forgive any mistakes, I could not find the energy to reread it its REAL late here, and lets face it, if I put off posting it, it wont get done. Sacrifices need to be made.

Everyone who left a review, you're amazing, especially you, all caps guest. You know who you are I LOVE YOU. If you have any suggestions for SCP's you'd like to see, let me know! I plan on having the big three in here, you know the ones, the Big Boys, the favourites, If you dont know them then by golly how did you find this fic? We're off the deep end here XD

we're starting to get close to the end of what id already written 5 years ago, guess its time for some fresh work... but I'll be damned if I dont get to the end of what I planed...