The Vessel was in meditation. They were sat down upon the table placed within their cell. The organization which held them had finally decided to unmask itself as the prison it really was. They tuned out every outside influence. They rarely ever did so, as it truly pulled their consciousness out of reality. They could opt to fully ignore everything and take in no information from the world around them. However, they had no need now. The only thing they needed to do was to reevaluate, regardless of what those around them may think.
They had one thing they needed to do. They needed to save those that they loved. In order to do that, they would have to end the Old Light. In order to do that, they would have to find a method to kill a God. In order to do that, they would have to return to Hallownest. In order to do that, they would have to find a method to do so. In order to do that, they would have to leave this cell.
They had a lot of "to-dos" to do.
So, at the top of the list was leaving this cell. It was a tricky situation. They knew how to leave, easily in fact. All they would have to do is give up their weapon. Something that they could not abide. Perhaps the ordinary world around this organization was safer than Hallownest, but within these walls were strange beings with unfathomable powers separated from them by mere inches of stone. They needed The Pure Nail as a form of defense. They could not be left without defense, not for any reason. They had seen and done far too much to ever risk themselves being left without the means to fight back against aggressors.
Iris had taken the deal and she was able to walk free, so they knew that the organization's word was good if they gave up the Pure Nail. And it wouldn't be like they could never see the masterpiece of a weapon again. But having someone between them and their nail, it was a step too far. It was less of a nail and more an extension of their reach, the hallmark of an excellent weapon.
So, they were at an impasse. They had spent this period of meditation trying to argue with themselves in their mind. Unfortunately, that was a difficult and slow process thanks to the Pale King. They lacked an internal monologue which could make long trains of thought difficult. They looped back on the same points over and over. It was so difficult to go slowly and mull things over. They had always been better when the only concern was the act of moving forward itself rather than the plan for it.
They regretted being trapped in the abyss so long. They had never gotten to grow up, neither physically, nor with others as a family. They felt robbed. No one deserved to be locked away to rot forever. They could barely remember how they got out, but the damage had been done. And now for it, they would never be as physically able as they could have been. They had seen the statues of their greatest sibling, and they surely would have grown to the same heights had they been given a chance. But they hadn't.
They so desperately wanted to forget Hallownest and run off into the distance and live happily ever after. Hallownest had done nothing but take from them, and even still it demanded to take more. They knew what was demanded of them, an eternal sacrifice to maintain an eternal stasis. But they had run from it. They would have done it if they could have no other option, though. There was one thing about Hallownest that bound them to it, the one thing that their thoughts constantly looped back to. Those that they desperately clung to as the only vestiges of family that they ever had. They were the only beacon of worth in the entirety of the rotten carcass of Hallownest.
Everything and everyone seemed awful in Hallownest. They couldn't necessarily blame most of the people, they were adapted to a harsh reality. They themselves were much the same. But there were those who were truly villainous. Those who had destroyed everything with their greed. They blamed the Pale Light and the Old Light, gods who fashioned themselves above mortals when they were just as much rolling in shit like commoners. The nobles of old Hallownest who seized everything for themselves as gluttons, who sealed the city, and starved everyone else before perishing in an encrusted tomb of their own design. The figurehead for that miserable caste was most certainly the Soul Master.
That bastard had known nothing but voracious appetite in his madness. Perhaps he had once been well-meaning, but that had long since corroded away as his ego and insanity stripped away everything but his desires. They had killed him not once, not twice, but now three times. Apparently, some of Hallownest was coming back to haunt them. They couldn't even escape the horrors here. They still had no clue how he had even showed up here. Presumably the same way that they had, but that didn't really make sense. That had figured that the Old Light had lunged at them while they were using the dream gate. But they were the only wielder of the Dream Nail. The only other person they knew of who was any the wiser about the ways of bending dream was the Seer, and she had passed on into The Dream. But, didn't The Soul Master do the same? They banished him within the dream realm and his essence was absorbed into the dream nail.
But that essence was no longer there. They had tried it once while wandering around, and a second time while going to visit the media archives after speaking to Mr. Laugh. But they couldn't pull any essence from the dream nail. It had lost a certain shimmer, although it felt no lighter. It was as if it was drained. At some point during the transition from Hallownest to this world, all of the essence had been drained.
Perhaps, during their journey, something changed. Evidently, as an immutable law of this world, Soul was not present. Maybe something was similar the case for essence. It could exist, but there was something off with it that had expelled it from the Dream Nail. Essence must be usable though. Because Soul does not exist here, and The Soul Master was still wielding spells, then he must have been using something else instead of soul. The only other possibility was essence, the energy that he was composed of. He had to have been using essence to power his spells instead of soul, even if inadvertently.
And with that revelation, The Vessel stirred within their meditation, imperceptible to those observing them. They could give up their nail and have it bound, but they would not be defenseless. They could, perhaps with some manipulation, use that energy of The Dream to power their spells. The spells they knew were already strange abominations built more of the Void than of Soul. With some tweaking, they could substitute soul for essence and have the body be built of Void once more.
They found the first thing to do on their way back to Hallownest and, with new purpose, retreated deeper into their mind to work. They had spell work to do.
A 16-wheeler, a small bus, and an unmarked utility van were driving at exactly the speed limit along a highway. The van lead the group. The semi-trailer was in the middle, packed between both cars for protection. The short bus carried Cars sped by them, but they chugged along with purpose. Inside the bus were two dozen individuals, all heavily armed and trained to fight. But they weren't looking for a fight. They were escorting the big truck which was ferrying special cargo.
In the hull of the trailer were several oddities, little quirks in reality. Some of them were dangerous enough to end the world if wielded in the wrong hands. But, they were safe enough if locked in a box and never opened. The goal was to just keep them away from prying eyes, and to do so, they were being moved. A facility in the Carolinas went to Hell, and so they were now being transported over the Appalachians and into a fortified facility in West Virginia for temporary safe keeping.
But still, the drive was long and the drivers of the trailer were bored. The sun had passed over the horizon several hours ago, and the energy drinks were wearing off.
"Hey, check out that exit."
"Heh. Who names their town 'Bland'? That's like, asking to get made fun of."
"I know right? I know hick country is empty, but like, they should really be more subtle about it."
"Hey now, don't be a dick. Jesus, dude."
The convoy continued in silence as the trees passed by in silent darkness. Inside the cabin, some recent pop hit was playing on the radio. A firm barrier existed between the outside and the inside. They were about to enter a rough patch of roads to pass through the mountains. Sparsely populated and empty roads. Only the occasional pair of headlights indicated that anything beyond them existed at all. The roads and hills and mile markers rolled on. The drivers' minds were being numbed by the hypnotic patterns of the highway.
A fog bank began to roll in, entrapped by a certain valley. Visibility began to reduce as they trailed through the valley.
The convoy radio crackled to life, "Be advised, entering an area of lowered visibility. Keep alert. Lead Car over and out."
"Uhg. I wish they let us stop one time during the damn trip. Or maybe use meth or something."
"Do they do urine tests or whatever?"
"Fuck if I know. I'd rather not risk it. That shit'd keep me up on the job but good lord if they found out it'd be my ass on a pike."
The convoy radio crackled again, "Be advised, traffic signal ahead. Prepare to stop."
"Why is there an intersection on the interstate? Isn't that, illegal?"
"This is a highway, big difference."
"What's the difference between a highway and an interstate?"
"Well for starters, highways can have intersections."
The light was red, piercing the night. Brakes squealed and hissed as the trailer stopped. It was a short light, but it felt like eons. The catchy tune came to an end and the light turned green. The convoy rolled forward and moved out of the intersection. A new song did not come on the radio, instead turning to static as the team moved around a bend in the mountains. A pair of headlights pulled up behind them in the distance.
"Damned rocks, that song was my favorite."
"You still have me for company."
"Some company that is."
"Oh, don't be mean, you love me and you know it."
"Your brain is cooked, man."
The convoy radio crackled again, but almost nothing came through. Garbled text spoke of something lost on the airwaves.
"That's not good. Those are tough as Hell; they shouldn't be cutting out. Something's wrong."
The copilot grabbed the radio and tried to get a response, and yet nothing came through but static.
"Be on alert, I'm fully awake now. Do me a favor and rack my sawed-off for me, set it over the console."
The copilot loaded magazines into two rifles and prepared them for battle. But battle didn't come. The truck pulled around a bend following the lead car and came to a red light. The drivers were jittery and anxious. Eventually, the light turned green, and they continued down the road, four cars moving in unison. A new car pulled out behind the growing group. As nothing happened, their heart rates slowed down a bit.
"You know, I think we hyped ourselves up over nothing."
"Probably. Equipment malfunctions aren't unheard of. Just, keep the guns ready."
The truck rattled on down the road. The fog was so dense that, even with a full moon, they could not see the peaks of the mountains on the opposite side of the narrow valley. The truck pulled around another bend and came to another stop light.
"Hey, is that road name familiar?"
"A bit."
The light turned green. The convoy rolled forward. A new car pulled out behind them. There were now three cars following behind the convoy, unbeknownst to the drivers. The radio was crackling constantly, but nothing intelligible came through. The truck pulled around another bend. The convoy stopped at a red light.
"Something's wrong. That's the same road we stopped at just now."
The convoy practically tore out of the intersection, completely ignoring the red light. The lead car activated its hazard lights in order to get a warning message out. As they pulled out of the intersection, several cars turned onto the highway to meet up with the crowd now following them. The copilot craned their head to get a better look at the cars through the rearview mirror. However, all of the cars had their high beams on, making it impossible to get a decent look at their pursuers without being blinded.
The truck pulled around a bend and came to a redlight. On the side of the road was a civilian police vehicle. This forced the convoy to stop for the intersection as the crowd of vehicles did not wait behind as had happened before, but filled the lanes on the side and behind them. The Foundation convoy was under strict orders to obey traffic laws and avoid police interactions as that would cause unnecessary risk and the threat of searches. And while a threat scenario provided priority over that directive, the other cars around them had not done anything wrong yet.
"Something is wrong. Is the black box running?"
"It's always running and we're going to make it out of whatever's happening. Nothing's even happened yet."
"Dude, there's some kind of loop happening. We've passed that exit at least three times, and I don't even know how long we've been here. Hit the SOS signaler."
At their behest, the copilot pressed a button on the dashboard which began broadcasting an SOS signal to every foundation radio frequency in range. The truck activated its hazard lights as well to indicate that they now recognized an emergency.
The light turned green. The lead car slowly pulled out of the intersection; the rest of the convoy followed. The cars behind did not follow, waiting at the lines.
"Do you think they're finally leaving us alone-"
At full speed, a garbage truck plowed through the lead car, a plume of fire and smoke billowing forward as the wreckage careened through the rail of the side of the mountain highway, rolling through trees and mud. Gunfire erupted, peppering the bus full of soldiers who evacuated their vehicle under a hail of fire and lead. Sound roared around the outside of the trailer, muffled by the glass but still very audible. Though the soldiers in the rear fought valiantly, their attackers were hidden behind the steel of cars and a curtain of bright lights, blinding their approach. Some of the assailants fell, but soon every soldier was slaughtered.
The outside world went quiet, and the drivers were panicking. They had strict orders to never leave the cabin for any reason until they reached their destination. But was this "any reason"? Their escorts were just killed off in a brutal manner in mere moments! They needed to do something.
"Christ almighty, ok, do we have explosives? There's too many for just two guns to shoot at."
"I'm checking the mobile armory now, we've got a few rockets but we'd have to get to cover to use them, they aren't practical inside a vehicle."
"Alright, alright. I'll figure out a way to clear a path to cover-"
Once again their voice was cut off, this time with a dull thud on the roof of the cabin above them. What sounded like footsteps warped the thin metal on the ceiling over their heads, pacing around. The copilot looked through the mirror again.
"There's a ladder leaned up against the truck, they're literally on top of us."
"Shit."
"Someone huge is climbing up, I can't get a good look at them though."
Eventually, after being joined by another, the footsteps strolled to the front of the truck. They bounced around, almost impatient. Eventually, they jumped in place and rattled the whole cabin.
The nerves of one of the drivers finally reached their limit and snapped.
With a battle cry, they fired their shotgun repeatedly upwards, shredding through the aluminum ceiling. A hole opened like the eye of a hurricane, the milky way visible straight up through a hole in the fog above.
A new voice called out in glee, "Thanks for the opening, I didn't want to have to approach the door with a barrel leveled at me!"
Another voice admonished it, "Just do the thing you asked for already."
And then someone tossed a cube of PVC surrounding a soft black object into the cabin through the ceiling. The footsteps ran away and slid off the end of the trailer to escape.
"What the fuck?"
A loud foghorn erupted out of nowhere, shattering every piece of glass on the truck. The very ground itself shook with the force of vibrating air, dislodging small pieces of rock along the cliff face. If the gunfire had yet to scare away wildlife, they fled now.
Footsteps approached the side of the truck, completely inaudible to the drivers. The two of them were pulled out of the remains of the cabin and disarmed. Both were in shock and bleeding from the ears. Their vision blurred and they slumped in place, breathing raggedly.
An enormous man wearing a large and heavy cog necklace strolled forward. A man and a woman followed at his sides.
The enormous man's admonishing tone continued, "To be entirely honest, I had expected more of a fight."
The gleeful voice replied, "Either way, I got my test. I'm grateful for the opportunity."
"New technologies always need field tests, I'm glad it went so well. Alright, let's take these two. You, take one of them, either, in our personal transport. And you, take the other with you back with the mercs. Then, clean the mercenaries up, and don't touch the driver. That is crucial. Other than that, I leave it at your discretion. You are both dismissed."
The Vessel was working within themselves. They had never actually tried it before, but they had reached a depth within their body they had never reached before. They did not have a mind in the truest sense, in the way that other sentient beings did. But they did have a space within which all their thoughts were placed. The closest analogy they could imagine would be a magical archive, with every aspect, every memory, every experience, every habit, every vestigial emotion was stored. They could all be recalled perfectly, given that they knew what to conjure and had time to dredge it forth. Of course, it was neither a physical space nor a truly accurate description. Merely the closest thing to visualize an abstract concept.
They had rarely ever felt the need to delve into themselves. They were often far more concerned with the fight for survival constantly presented by Hallownest. The only time they had ever gone deep and truly examined a piece of their self like this was when they made their final trip to the Abyss. It was dark in every way, and while reliving the greatest trauma enacted in the entirety of Hallownest was a harrowing ordeal, they had come to terms with their past. They will not forgive, they will not forget, but most importantly of all they will not let the past dictate their future. Just because entities with egos greater than their powers ordained their sacrifice did not mean that they would compromise. They would never allow such poison to cast a yoke over their fate. Their fate was their own once more, and once more they would dive into themselves.
At least this time was with a less miserable purpose. They were not going to be revisiting memories, but instead the fabric of their abilities. When the Snail Shaman of the Overgrown mound had gifted them, they could feel a foreign presence sear into their fiber, somewhere. They had felt it again in the Sanctum and the Gardens, too. It had roiled them, a great unease at all times. They grew accustomed, but once they had come to terms in the Abyss that unease melted away. They became solely their own. The gift was truly and fully theirs now. So, who said they couldn't tweak it?
It took a long time, though mere moments in their mind, but they found the spell work and bindings of the shade soul. It was fused in, inseparable, it was them. They poked around at it, and it felt bizarre. The sensation had no origin and yet they felt it. It took effort, especially since they had neither soul nor essence to experiment with. However, their situation demanded risks. However, they saw how the spell consumed soul from their reserves and altered it. They poked and prodded at their being and finally, something clicked. They weren't certain, but something seemed different. There was a different scent, for a lack of any better descriptor. It was like sealing off a tube and opening a new one, and they felt a tingle similar to what they felt when they traversed The Dream. It must have worked.
Beginning anew, they repeated the process once and then twice more with the descending dark and the abyss shriek. Like cooking food, the scent of The Dream was strong. Their handiwork must have been a success, though a shadow of doubt plagued them. They needed to test it, but they couldn't without essence, and if they were successful then they would attract the ire of the organization imprisoning them. They could gather more essence from the scene of the fight with The Soul Tyrant. The first time he had been slain he left a spirit of essence behind, and essence peppered the scene of the battle. They could reasonably assume the same now, though the spirit likely moved back on to The Dream.
Experimentation was the hardest part. What were they to do? They were between a rock and a hard place. To be fully certain of their security, they needed to test it. But to test it would ensure that the organization would chain them down further, perhaps even fully restricting them to confinement within the cell. They did not want to have to cut down everyone just to find a way home. They might even have to face the members of their team. They were… they were interesting. They would regret being forced to fight them, ordered forward by a greater power. Myla's memory still haunted them.
The new spells would have to be a leap of faith, reserved for only when nothing else could work. Ultimately, they could still have their nail, albeit under lock and key. If ever absolutely necessary, they now had hidden fangs.
They stirred from their meditative trance. They drew forth The Pure Nail and placed it on the table. Then, they sat on their cot and waited. The researchers would be here soon.
The members of Alpha-9 were sitting in a tucked away meeting room, a projector showing a blue screen of nothing on a nearby panel. They were going to be receiving their first official assignment and the Site Director was on her way. Due to the early hour of the day, no one was really interested in conversation aside from Cactusman, who was attempting to grill The Vessel, and Han, who chimed in when he felt it appropriate.
"So, you were sleeping for three weeks? How exactly does that work?"
"not sleep. was deciding."
"Deciding on what?"
"whether to give weapon"
"Was that really such a hard choice?"
"you carry needle weapon in body. self does not. cannot fight without weapon. necessary."
Han cut in, "Hey now, us little guys aren't so weak! I don't have any fancy spikes in my skin and I'm still capable enough! I bet you've got a few tricks up your sleeve, you've got that look about you."
The conversation ended abruptly as the door was opened by the Site Director. She didn't bother with a polite tone, being cold and formal. She had lost too much sleep and she dropped a brown bottle in a trash can, evidently from the morning already. Just behind her was a bright-eyed and young officer who walked to the opposite side of the room of Johanson, waiting for a cue.
"Good morning, Alpha-9. I received the greenlight for this operation. That means today you will be assigned your first field mission. This is an adaptive long-term mission. As 105 knows, this means that your mission objectives will change as you discover new information in the field and is expected to take longer than one week."
She tapped a few keys at the desktop sat in the corner, already hooked up to the projector. As the screen warmed up, audio footage and dashcams began to play. The screen showed a van being plowed through by a huge vehicle at speed before being flung off through a guard railing. Gunfire erupted in the background. The camera feed changed to a bodycam video showing three figures approaching. Blinding lights backlit them, making them too difficult to make out clearly. The only figure who was recognizable in any way was a tall man in the middle, speaking something that was not picked up.
"Approximately one week ago, an unidentified group carried out a heist on a convoy traveling from the wreckage in the Carolinas to a more secure location. Evidently, someone sold the information, and we lost several anomalies. Most are low-risk items, all categorized as Safe. However, among these items was SCP-2501. This SCP is also classified as Safe, however, it is a world-threatening item in the wrong hands. This item is the highest priority on your mission."
She then gestured to the officer who had followed her in.
"This is Field Agent Sharpe. He will be accompanying you and aiding in your mission."
With the introduction, Sharpe introduced himself, "Pleasure to meet you all. I can't wait to see what you can do."
Sharpe stepped aside and Johanson flipped the image of the projector over to a triangulation map centered over Eastern Virginia.
"Thank you. Now, we believe that two members of the convoy security personnel survived the attack, and are certain at least is still alive now. This is a beacon on the person of one of the drivers. We have triangulated it to be somewhere within the city of Richmond. This is about four and a half hours away from where the attack took place. Your objectives are, in order of priority, as follows: Recover SCP-2501 and any additional anomalies seized by the unknown Group of Interest, identify the Group of Interest and if feasible capture the Person of Interest in this footage, and safely extract the Driver of the convoy. Any further questions can be asked of Agent Sharpe, good day."
With that, Director Johanson left for her office.