A trip down one of the roads of this world was something unlike anything else back in Hallownest. The Vessel stared out through the windows of the trailer, the thin tarp covering their existence from the outside world while allowing them to see through with only a little difficulty. The only experience that they had that was comparable were their trips through the stagways, but even then, the speed and world around them was no equal. The stagways were cramped and moist tunnels, no sights to see beyond monotonous grey stone and gravel. There were houses, distant bodies of vast water, and other vehicles speeding down the highway. They were practically hopping up and down to get a better view.
As they stared out the window, a beautiful Mustang sports car passed the truck and trailer, racing fast with the freedom to explore the world.
They gazed out in wonder. They had traveled on foot a great way, but even now they realized just how small the distance they had traveled was in comparison. There was so much out there, so much to do, so much to see, so much to experience. They weren't free yet, but they could feel it ever so close. They did not miss the kingdom of Hallownest; the ruins mired in tragedy and regret brought only misery to their inhabitants. Despite that, they would give all they had for the opportunity to bring those they loved the chance to explore. Cornifer, at the very least, would love the new spaces.
They decided to make a map, something to do while they waited. It would have to be far less detailed than the ones they normally used; such distance was not traversable in the same way. They pulled out their ink and page and began to draw the route they were taking.
Alexei lifted his head to take note of what the Vessel was doing.
"They will take this map from you. There is no point in drawing it."
The Vessel met his eyes for a moment. They returned to their cartography.
Alexei scoffed and turned his eyes out toward the road. He thought to himself as he stared out the window.
"It is not such a bad thing for them to have naivety. They have demonstrated their experience in combat, to still be able to see the wonder in the world is a privilege they can afford. Perhaps, I will too soon. I can feel my age coming, I can feel the years piling on. I am young only through the calendar, time has worn on my soul. I doubt I will die anytime soon, but maybe I can relive my best days through the mission set before me. I see no goal, no direction, no higher purpose. I cannot find one when locked behind meters of stone and steel, stowed away. If given one, I may find peace yet. Through the sacrifice of violence, the promise of peace. Is that not the romantic aim of a noble soldier? I may have failed before, but if I can protect even their one life, I can start to avenge the deaths at my command."
As he looked out through the covered window, a salvaged truck scooted down the highway. It was old and had likely broken down more times than anyone could count. But someone had decided that it was worth the investment and given it new life, and it chugged along faster than any other car.
Han and Cactusman were trading jokes and laughing between each other. What they were saying was lost to the sound of the road. They seemed like they enjoyed their conversation, though it was broken by tracts of time with no sound spoken between them. The journey was too long to be sustained fully through conversation.
Iris sat at the front of the trailer, looking back at the rest of the team. One part of her so desperately wanted to move over, join the conversation, reflect in silence, or draw. Something, anything to finally connect with someone else again. And then another part of her shouted the thought down, she knew exactly what would happen if she tried that. She would experience the pain and loss all over again. When Alpha-9 went the way of Omega-7, she would not suffer the same agony.
The pain from looking at the rest of the squad at ease forced her head to look out the window, the start of tears welling at the corners of her eyes.
No cars passed on the road.
A light and airy beep rang out, and everyone stopped their activities to listen to the speaker beginning an announcement at the front of the trailer. The low voice of Agent Sharpe came through,
"We are making good progress on the road. Light traffic, clear skies, and decent progress thus far. I will now begin to read out the mission briefing as it was given to me."
He cleared his voice and began to speak again, this time far more monotone as he began to drone.
"On the redacted of redacted, a Foundation convoy set out from a safehouse to transport anomalies to temporary storage following the total containment breach at Site redacted. While on route, they were attacked, and the convoy was raided. All personnel were killed and accounted for, except for the two drivers of the truck carrying the anomalies. Their current status is unknown. You all should remember this from the briefing the Site Director gave just before we left. In addition to this, it is important to know that we were given certain anomalous items to use to our benefit, courtesy of SCP-2099. Yes, I understand that normally the Foundation doesn't use such items, but this MTF was approved by an 05 and given more leeway than typical, or so I've heard. These include TD 2-way communication devices and a portable Scranton reality anchor. I've got both of those under another tarp in the bed of the truck. The communicators are just fancy walkie talkies that don't have range issues, and the reality anchor is a real weird bit of tech that locks reality in place, certain readings from the site of the convoy's raid had lower than expected Hume readings. Don't worry, this should be fine. Additionally, once we arrive at our designated safe house, we will make contact with command and begin mission operations. And on an unrelated note, I will be stopping in half an hour for the restroom and to buy fast food for you all."
Another chime dinged to indicate that the Agent was no longer speaking over the intercom. Han joked, "You know, I don't think that's exactly the mission as it was given to him."
Iris heard the words of the agent and felt ice in her veins. She spoke in a hushed tone, only just audible over the sound of the road.
"They're sending us into a reality bender."
Everyone turned towards Iris, by far the most experienced in anomalous combat.
Most of the group seemed confused, but Alexei simply leaned back.
"I don't see the issue; we must fight who we are told we must fight. We did join this team."
"The issue is that he apparently can't even be bothered to tell us, this is kind of a big deal."
"He is a soldier just like us. I do not think that he was told either."
Cactusman raised his hand before nervously edging into the conversation.
"Hi, so uh, what's a 'reality bender'? That doesn't sound very good."
Iris turned towards him with a tired look, completely deadpanning.
"We're going to fight a minor god."
Han scoffed at her remark.
"What a bummer. I had hoped we'd be fighting a major god instead."
"Look, in any case, we're going to have issues. It might not be a reality bender, but they're sending us with a Scranton reality anchor. I've only ever had to be on a mission with them a few times, but those things are heavy duty reality fixing machines. They think there's some reality warping anomaly involved, probably because of whatever happened at that convoy raid. And if that thing happens to be a humanoid, they could simply think us out of existence. Our time to neutralize whatever it is would have be to be quicker than human reaction time."
"We can just shoot them, right?"
"Sure, maybe. But you better be able to kill them in one shot and without them noticing you, otherwise its futile. You wouldn't die, but for all intents and purposes you wouldn't really be alive anymore, either."
The air of the conversation tensed up at her last words, there was little they could do if her theory about their enemy was correct. It wasn't like they had a choice, but no one ever got excited about being led to the meat grinder. The Vessel, however, welcomed this challenge. They would need such experience for when they returned to free Hallownest. They had fought beings which warped reality before, and technically so had the rest of them when they had fought the Soul Tyrant. They did not comprehend why this brought everyone dread but decided not to hamper their mood further but mentioning this. They were not certain it would do them much good for them to communicate their confidence.
The trailer continued down the highway as everyone returned to their previous activities. The air was thick with the awkwardness of not knowing how to respond Iris's analysis. The best they could do right now was carry on and hope for the best.
Eric Moghadam was working alone in a suite at the top of a tower overlooking his complex. Golden rays of the morning sun streamed in through frosted windows, illuminating columns of dust drifting lazily through the air. The room served as an office, a bedroom, and a workshop all rolled into one. Whenever he was not shepherding below, an occurrence becoming more and more infrequent, he would typically be found in the suite.
A raised metal table sat in the middle of the room; a tiny, stylized PVC pipe was suspended over the center by thin wires pulling at a crack along the length. Blue light and steam filtered through, high pitched squeals singing through every now and then. Papers were littered around, occasionally being gusted off by the steam. A camera resting upon a tripod blinked its red light amicably, recording the procedures. He prodded at the pipe with an attachment rotating through his palm, widening the crack ever so slightly. The blue glow widened, filling his eyes. He stood up and reached into a nearby bucket, pulling out a grape. He held it to one end and held it between two fingers. With one swift motion he flicked it through. Just as before, it sailed through with a break in its path. Before his very eyes, he saw the grape seemingly vanish, much the same as someone reducing opacity in editing software. And in just a second, it reappeared in the same manner but reversed. He witnessed it, a violation of general relativity, a break in space-time. He witnessed a true gift. The grape rolled onto the floor and under a corner.
Eric walked over to a free-standing whiteboard and made a note of the sight. He had a half dozen similar whiteboards, of which two were already filled. Drawings of the pipe and the internal mechanism within, all in an attempt to explain it. He was determined to master the gift and seize it by the reigns, to mold it, rule it –
His thoughts were interrupted as someone entered.
"Sir, I've brought an extra coffee for you."
His assistant had arrived, carrying a tray with food and drink. A stomach could not survive on determination alone.
"Ah, thank you Morgan."
His assistant knew exactly how he preferred his coffee. They were among the most trusted within the Church, the only one he would ever allow into the suite. Morgan set the drinks down and made their way over to a bookshelf on one side of the room and picked up a watering can. They tended to the succulents, cacti, and little shrubs kept up to have a little greenery in the industrial room.
"You've been at it all night, sir. Have you made progress?"
"Ah, some. I've borne witness to the rift within this, pipe, itself. Honestly, the fact that such a wonderful creation was retrofitted into a PVC section that undoubtedly cost only a few dollars is distasteful."
"You're right, I feel as though it might do better within a display case, the ingenuity of its device shared to all."
"Maybe, but I'd much prefer to put it to use."
Moghadam made a note with red markers on a new whiteboard, writing several lines. He returned to the gift. He picked up a small steel rod, tipped with rubber. Watching closely, he attempted to prod the singularity still glowing blue. But he could not touch it, it simply phased in and out of reality through the center, mimicking his movements with lag in a now mundane dance. Moghadam returned the rod and breathed a sigh of frustration. He crossed out the first line in red.
He moved to begin the next test with a latex tipped steel rod when a ringtone came from his pocket. He took it out and saw the caller ID.
He turned to Morgan, "It's her, be silent."
He accepted the call.
"Yes, Marie. What do you have to report?"
Out of the phone poured a melodic voice, flowing like honey, entrancing those who could hear it. It filled the room in spite of the phone's speakers not being able to be so loud. It commanded attention, capturing Morgan. Moghadam had heard it too many times to be fully influenced, and even so he felt the pull. The words themselves were often rank, but the sweetness of the voice simply overpowered thought, commanding those to just believe.
"Oh, Eric. Don't be so brash with me. I'm only doing what you asked. I'm almost done with the first task. I'm watching him die right now, he's looking up at me. I honestly have to give him props, this… Joseph, if I can read his nametag, has gone a whole three days after his water ran out."
She paused for a moment, temporarily breaking the spell. A bottle being drank came through the speaker at a normal volume, followed by an exhale.
"I kept the one you asked alive, he's doing well. Sort of. I might've broken him slightly but he's still alive. Oh, and that thing in his neck is still beeping."
Moghadam ran his hand down his face, "Alright, good. Keep as you've been. Maintain your position until the end of the month, at which point you may return. Keep logs of anything that happens."
"Eric you really shouldn't be so formal, you may be my boss but we're still friends."
"Have a good day, Marie."
He hung up the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Morgan shook their head and rubbed their eyes, the words still filling their ears. They picked up a clipboard and began to scribble something down to flex their brain and distract themselves.
After a moment, they breathed deeply and asked their leader, "Why do you keep her around?"
"She's useful."
"She's controlling you."
"Not me, just you. I've been around her too long for it to have much effect anymore."
"You don't see that as an issue?
"Look, look. Having someone who can manipulate things is very useful."
"Like I said, she's been manipulating you."
Moghadam snapped.
"Damnit! Yes, yes! I know! She's been for years! She just fucking showed up and sweet talked her way up the damn ladder, reality itself bends to whatever she fucking wants! The fact that she hasn't up and replaced me is fucking sick. She knows that I need to enact my vision, she knows that she's a threat. She's twisting the knife by not doing anything. For fuck's sake, look. I send her off on these long jobs just to get her out of my hair for a little while. It's the only way to I don't have to deal with her showing up and 'advising' me."
Moghadam balled his hands into fists, gripping them near his head. He flexed his metallic arm, a small alarm sounding. With great force he backhanded one of the nearest empty whiteboards, the whole structure being thrown and the board itself being torn from the rotating hinges. The loud crash against a desk pulled him from his rage, the terrified eyes of his assistant replacing him within the world.
"Do not breathe a word of this conversation to anyone."
Morgan nodded hurriedly, before practically running out. They even left their coffee, still steaming, on the desk that had been nearly knocked over. Just as they were making it through the door, Morgan shouted back.
"Don't forget, you have to come down for a meeting with Jerry in fifteen minutes!"
Moghadam breathed a sigh of irritation at the reminder, Jerry was probably the only person he despised more than Marie, though for different reasons. The meeting could wait as he began to ponder how to extract the rift from its housing without touching it.
Contra slowly roused in her bed. It was 7AM. This was the first time in several weeks that she had woken up at the time she usually did. Her mind was clear and fresh, she felt as though she had gotten a good night's sleep after being deprived of such for ages. She had not dreamt; she couldn't remember any dreams she had had for the last month at least. She took a shower, got dressed, and ate breakfast. She was ready by 8AM.
After walking down the hall, she took a look around her office and evaluated the mess it had deteriorated into. For whatever reason, she hardly retained memory from the last few weeks. This was highly unusual for her, but whatever had plagued her evidently had moved on. She cleaned a few empty bottles into a trash can. She hadn't taken to drink in years. She hadn't forgotten to clean her office in months. She checked her email and got her regular administrative work done. She had fallen behind but in a few short hours of concerted effort began to get herself back on track. The fact that nothing had gone horrendously wrong over the past few weeks was a miracle, she would not have been able to react accordingly.
She worked for several hours, before being satisfied with her progress. Despite being glad that her mental state was back to normal, she was concerned. She was self-aware enough to know that the deviation she had been through was abnormal and that there was no discernable cause. It ate away at the back of her mind as she continued. Once satisfied, she got up, cleaned up, and stepped up to walk the halls of the facility, she had a report she needed to pick up.
Warm faces greeted her; her temporary absence was certainly felt among the halls of the facility staff. Seeing her out and about while working would begin to turn around the dip in morale. Office politics in the Foundation were often unstable, and the slightest wavering of the chain of command could sow doubt. Though, with her back their trust was reassured. They were all there because of her, surely whatever fears they had were misplaced.
As Contra reached her destination, she opened the door to a man cleaning. J. Jackson was busy scrubbing grime that had accumulated on his desk. A pile of trash had been transferred into garbage bags and a mop sat in a bucket, the water within murky. The only thing on his monitor was a geographic map of the region with overlaid geometric shapes. He turned quickly, becoming flushed with embarrassment.
"Oh, Director! I was just cleaning up the office here, it's been a bit of a wreck right now."
"I see, it's substandard. But, I'll cut you a break. I've had a few rough weeks, I can allow you to slip a little. Especially since you're already cleaning it."
"Yeah, I get what you mean. Recently it's been like my mind's been foggy. I can hardly remember what's been going on recently. But I did get the report for the week ready! It was the first thing completed today."
"Alright, let me hear it."
With a rehearsed tone, J. Jackson began to rattle off something that sounded like a printed weather report, "No radiation spikes have been detected in any of the monitored regions. Radiation levels are increasing at a linear rate but are otherwise stable. Localized radiation levels have been noted to fluctuate by as much as two standard deviations. The locations of these fluctuations have been noted. Of note is that the highest recorded radiation level yet was found at Site 433. This reached a peak of approximately 330 units before dropping down to half the baseline level of the region. Another radiation high was found on private property located thirty minutes west of Miami which dispersed gradually over the course of several weeks. Notable localized lows include– "
"That will be all for now, thank you. Send the fully completed transcript to my office, and don't forget to include dates when you send it."
Contra then excused herself from the conversation. Grabbing the physical copy of the report, she began to make her exit. She stepped over a small puddle of mop water and then began to walk down the hall to other offices. She had to pick up other reports, return to her office, compile them, and then make a report of her own to send up the chain. But while performing those duties, something else was on her mind.
The Monitor also had a period of mental fogginess. That period lasted several weeks. It's onset and dispersal were sudden, very sudden. They had a hard time getting any work done, and if the bags under his eyes were to judge, he likely had sleeping issues much the same as her. Their situations lined up closely. One occurrence may be a stroke of bad luck, but two begins a pattern. And patterns were something that could never be ignored in her line of work.
Some other monitor who had been observing the containment of some flytraps from Venus droned on about their newly altered dietary plan. However, Contra's mind was still considering the possibility that she herself had been influenced by something. It wasn't deadly serious, evidently, but the fact that something had altered her mental state concerned her greatly. Coincidences do occur, two people having a rough time isn't exactly unlikely. It's probably more likely than not happening at all. Besides, there wasn't even a cause she could even try to investigate. Contra tried to consider something that happened one month ago that affected both of them. She thought about it, and then looked at the report in her hand.
"Is something wrong, Director?"
"No, I just have some research I need to assign."
The bright disk in the sky, the sun as they recall overhearing in conversation, had gone down and been replaced by its silvery counterpart, masked in wispy clouds, as the Vessel finished their map. It was long and the scale far too large for much use, but it was something to do. All the other occupants of the trailer had gone to rest, leaning against the walls even as they rattled with every rock in the road. They put away their map and writing implement and looked out the window. It was very dark out, the only illumination being the occasional passing light from streetlamps. They still didn't know how those lamps operated, especially since they were disconnected from the buildings, they believed they were limited to. The terrain around them had become hidden, both in shadow and by urban development. The city of tears was impressive, a monument of carefully crafted silver architecture that was compact, functional, and beautiful all in one. Wherever they were in now was gray, monotonous, and dark. A slight drizzle poured like silent tears, as though in mourning. The streets were still hot from the day, the water evaporating off into smog that obscured views further than a short distance.
Eventually, the truck and trailer pulled off the main street and into a back alley. The alley opened into a small parking lot, hidden from the view of the street. The small chime returned, and the voice of the agent began to sound through the back of the trailer.
"We have arrived at our destination. Give me a moment to prepare your arrival and then I'll let you all out and into the building. Welcome to Richmond."
The rest of the team began to wake up, groggy. Someone gave a yawn. As the team began to reorient themselves, the doors to the trailer were unlatched and then pulled open. A slight groan of the metal cried out before they jolted open. Agent Sharpe set down a footstool and beckoned the team towards a door. As they stepped out, only slight mist fell on them, just enough to wash off the smell of manure they had become accustomed to. The Vessel gazed up at the buildings around them. Structures towered into the sky with metal fabrications jutting to break the low hanging clouds. Walls of brick made solid faces the whole way up, with not a single window to break them. Signs were posted around to ward off trespassers and cameras to back them up. The entire alley was designed to be unwelcoming.
The team then entered into the small cover that was posing as a mass market pen manufacturer's storefront. The small store was being run by two Foundation operatives who had been demoted as punishment for some offense. They didn't give even a single glance to the bizarre match of individuals passing them by. The team then walked behind a curtain into a room with steel reinforced walls, sturdy trusses, and a bulkhead for a ceiling.
"Welcome to our Richmond safe house. This place is rated to survive an airstrike, it's probably the most fortified single room in the city."
Alexei spoke first, "It is very rusty. I do not think it would take much to take this place."
"Trust me, it's very secure. Now, onto business. Tomorrow we begin our mission proper. Command has begun to triangulate the location of our expected target. There is a field of lower-than-expected Humes in downtown Richmond. We're going to take a look around, see if anything's amiss. If there's hostiles, we aim to kill. If we find SCP 2501, we're to bring it in. That is the top priority. There were other SCP objects taken, but if we find them, we're just to flag the site and a proper cleanup team will take care of the rest. If we find hostiles, we are authorized to use lethal force. Any questions?"
Iris raised her hand, "You mentioned a reality anchor. How exactly do you plan to lug that around?"
"Good question. Alexei, you can carry it around."
A groan came from Alexei, who was not pleased to be relegated to the team's pack mule.
Sharpe continued, "Despite being 'portable' the reality anchor is a beast of a machine. If we run into an anomaly causing the Hume drop, we have to get within five meters of it and then activate. And from there, we have only a few minutes of run time. That should be more than enough to deal with whatever it may be, but we have to be sparing with it. The normal ones are twice as big and require a fission reactor for a full set. We have a similar issue with the walkie talkies, due to their nature they have extreme power draw. I can't say exactly, but they last longer if you use them sparingly. Any more questions?"
When no one else signaled that they had anything to ask, Sharpe concluded.
"Alright then, goodnight you all. We have rooms, enough for all of us if we double up. No funny business, there aren't windows, I'm sure you all understand."
The team broke off into pairs, Iris and the Vessel, Sharpe and Alexei, Han and Cactusman. They all retired for the rest of the night, the sound of drumming rain slowly washing over the walls. No one dreamt that night.
The world turned over in its rest as the morning came, though no one on the ground could tell. The storm from the day prior had intensified into a maelstrom, arcs of fire cracking across the sky as walls of water wailed upon the ground. Sharpe walked the halls and then gathered everyone into the main room of the safehouse. Only Cactusman was still asleep. Everyone had changed into civilian clothes and begun the routine of waking up in The Foundation. They all came out to see that the front store was already staffed. The two day guards had already parked their cars in the small lot out front and had begun the daily chores of the front. They were expected to use dirty mop water and to light cigarettes to shoo off any civilians who came by chance. Sharpe distributed the team's breakfast; passable freeze-dried rations that could probably last a century.
The team ate quickly. Cactusman spoke first.
"So, big day! Man, I'm almost shaking. Our first mission, together, in the field. I suppose we fought that big orb guy, but does he really count?"
Alexei turned to him and spoke in his stilted accent, "I remember my first mission in the field. We were lucky, first time. It was perhaps my best memory. You remind me a lot of someone I knew. So eager to go and fight. Just keep your mind in your head."
"Got it!"
Iris scrunched her face up, trying not to listen to the conversation.
The Vessel did not open the pre-packaged rations they had been given. They found the idea of food that could never rot amusing and placed the bag within themselves. Agent Sharpe gave them a bewildered look but said nothing. After everyone finished eating, they cleared their area and began to file out the door. The plates went in the sink, the booster seat the vessel was on was placed aside, and the chairs were pushed in. Now that they were moving, everyone began to go silent. Whether for anticipation, anxiety, or determination, the conversation died.
The team was led by Sharpe out to the livestock trailer. He undid the bolt, waved everyone in, and then sealed the doors behind them. He pressed a buzzer to open the gate.
The trailer pulled out of the alleyway; a small gate slid to the side to allow their exit before being replaced behind them. The trailer rattled down into downtown Richmond, before arriving along a riverfront quay. Other cars were parked along the road, but the storm discouraged anyone from walking around and witnessing them. The haze of the rain obstructed the view of the nearest building; no cameras could see them from that distance. The doors opened and the silhouette of Sharpe stepped in out of the rain.
Sharpe had to yell to only just barely get over the sound of the rain, "Ok, we've made it to downtown Richmond, I've parked us on the riverfront. Making contact with command now."
He placed a radio he had strapped to his chest on the footstool he had brought in from the edge of the trailer. He pressed a red button and began to speak,
"Command, this is Alpha Nine One, come in."
The voice of Kain Pathos Crow radioed back, "Alpha Nine One, this is Command, we read you. Are all members of the team accounted for?"
"Affirmative."
Through the occasional crackle of static, Crow began to relay orders to the team.
"A UAV is circling above the site but due to inclement weather we cannot establish visual contact. The weather will discourage civilians from entering the area, but we cannot risk you being seen while walking the streets towards the target. We cannot establish a safe route aboveground, you are to resort Approach Plan B. One hundred meters to your south and over the barrier you will see a drainpipe. The schematics for the block indicate that it should be wide enough for all of you to walk in. Follow it for half a kilometer Northeast and it should bring you under I-195. You'll know you're under the interstate when you see what looks like a large junction in the pipes. Continue straight through the junction and then follow for exactly one hundred and sixty meters and then surface. There should be a manhole you can exit into the parking lot of the property. Due to construction, civilians are not likely to be present and the view of your ascent will be blocked from the street. Make your way around to the side entrance and enter the main lobby. There shouldn't be any civilians due to the construction and because only a single company is registered to the offices. Even still, if you encounter any non-hostile civilians, detain them for future interrogation. You are authorized to terminate any nonessential hostiles you may encounter. Otherwise, your primary objective is to locate and secure SCP 250. Godspeed."
The radio silenced itself and everyone looked to Sharpe. No one could tell as he was already drenched from the rain and the heavy tactical gear he wore, but beads of sweat ran down his brow. It was time to begin. He took a deep breath and steadied himself.
"Let's go team."
Sharpe grabbed a suitcase and latched down the deadbolt as the team disembarked from the trailer. They set off into the rain, a haze of fog surrounding them not long after. The only trace of their existence was the clicking of boots over concrete and then stone, sharp enough to break through the downpour. After the rain had stopped, the only trace that anyone had ever been that way were the twisted remnants of a grate left on the shore of the river, chalked up to rust and the extraordinary rains pushing through the system.
Only half an hour later, a manhole cover lifted up and was pushed aside. A large humanoid with insectoid skin stepped out and helped lift up five others from the hole in the ground. As he got to the last one, a redhaired man, he turned his face away.
The insectoid spoke a few harsh words, "You should watch where you step. You will smell like shit water forever now."
The redhaired reeled, "No I won't, it'll wash off soon in the rain. I hope. Next time if you can't catch me when I jump over a stream, tell me."
"Next time when you jump over shit water, tell me."
The team then moved towards the building through the construction yard. Tall wire fences had been erected around the lot for construction. The building adjacent was under renovation for new ownership, and they had fenced in the parking lot shared between the two skyscrapers. Their target loomed over them. Its peak was not visible through the low clouds, seamless steel and glass traveling upwards to infinity. Nothing broke the endless faces traveling upwards in a pillar to nothing. The lower façade was a work of marble art, columns breaking up the ugly cement blocks painted over. Spirals continued to twist without end in rows as concentric circles broke up the larger faces between the columns. A fire exit cut into the side of the building, entering the lobby to bypass the main street. The team stacked up on the door as Agent Sharpe pulled it open and everyone rushed in.
Not a soul was in the lobby. The lobby appeared to be open for business as usual, if not for the shutters over the large glass windows in the front being lowered. Golden tiling repeated wall to wall. A water feature gurgled with a statue to some old nondescript politician. Ferns were littered around in boxes, well cared for. The green and gold gave a sense of holiness, like hallowed ground not to be disturbed. Chairs and tables were placed around sparingly. A red carpet flowed forward from the main doors towards a set of four elevators on opposite interior walls. A circular desk with no receptionist was placed directly in the middle of the room, between the doors and elevators. The monitor was unpowered, despite the glimmering lights stringed along chandeliers still showering the lobby in strands of golden light. The whole lobby was minimalist, yet still was a beacon of decadence.
The team approached a couch and pulled the two tables flanking it together. Alexei set down the enormous machine strapped to his back as Sharpe set down the radio and suitcase. He pressed the red button once more,
"Command, we've entered the location."
Crow responded through the radio, static breaking up the speech frequently, "Affirmative, Nine One. Are all members accounted for?"
"Yes, sir. Be advised, communications are experiencing interference."
"Acknowledged. We are losing contact with your beacons, be careful out there. Should you lose contact, you are to continue your mission as planned."
"Acknowledged."
Agent Sharpe then stopped transmitting and placed his hands on the table. He took a deep breath and gave a smile to those around him.
"Let's get this party started."
He pulled a gallon bag rolled up in his pocket and distributed plastic zip ties to the team before pulling a key from his pocket. He unlocked the suitcase, revealing two objects, a sheen of light reflecting off both. He distributed the Polaroid to Iris and the Pure Nail to the Vessel.
The Vessel scribbled in their perfect handwriting: "thank you."
Iris didn't meet Sharpe's eyes but gave hushed gratitude, entirely focused on the camera now returned to her.
Agent Sharpe looked around the room, taking a moment to view the room around him. Something seemed off to him that he couldn't quite put into words. Alexei was refastening the machine to his back as the Vessel was jumping up and down on a couch. Han and Cactusman were looking at some of the smaller shrubs. Iris recollected herself and noticed Sharpe staring.
She questioned, "Are you going to do something?"
He shook himself back, "Yeah, we're to clear this floor. But something about it doesn't seem right."
Iris panned around the room, "There's no one here."
"Yes."
"But there should be."
She walked towards the doors and faced into the room before taking a picture. She walked back as the film developed. A small grinding click in the camera told her she needed to replace the film reel, which she did as she made her way over. She held the developed photo to Sharpe, using three fingers to zoom and pan around the room.
"You should pick up on these faster next time, but look. No one is present but us, and signs of life are still present. On the clerk's desk here, a cigarette is still lit in an ashtray. There's some wet mud on the carpet that leads from the front doors, and those plants are in good shape, I bet…"
She zoomed in to the shrubs that Han and Cactusman were observing.
"…yeah. Freshly watered, some's even still standing in the pot. Someone was here recently."
"Good eye. This place is supposed to be closed to the public, someone's here, and they're not showing themselves. My first thought is that we're risking an ambush."
"I would agree."
Agent Sharpe cleared his throat before raising his voice, halting everyone's activities, to draw attention back to himself.
"Ok, listen up! We are going to clear out this floor. Expect hostiles, don't fire unless fired upon. Suit up here."
He pulled the bag from his shoulder and unzipped it, revealing handguns for the whole team. Everyone grabbed one, except for The Vessel. They could probably place it within themselves, but they wouldn't get much use from it, it was as large as one of their limbs. Just firing it would throw them back their whole body's length or more.
Iris then began to command everyone, "Let's move out! This lobby is clear, I'll watch the rear. You all, check the bathrooms on the right. Check your corners, move out. Methodically sweep left to right, make sure that broom closet gets opened. Make note of any entrances or exits in those rooms!"
As the rest of the team moved to execute the orders, Sharpe turned to her, "You are aware I'm the leader, right?"
"I have the most experience here, and you seem to be taking your sweet time to do your job on a mission that could very well be time sensitive. Step up or shut up."
Sharpe looked as though he were stepped on and began to direct the others as Alexei broke down the doors of the offshoot rooms and the Vessel dashed in to get the jump on any would-be attackers. Despite the tense expectation of resistance, no enemy guns poked out or war cries called. The bathrooms and closets were just as quiet as the lobby. They seemed plain in comparison, a lack of detail adorning them. The only thing of note was a mop bucket with the cleaner in it still steaming hot from the machine that dispensed it.
Alexei turned out of the broom closet through the splinters of the door, bluntly reporting "There is nothing in the bathroom."
Sharpe bit his lip, and then began to say something. Before anything audible left his lips, a sound filled the room. A soft ding-donging chime filled the air. Everyone froze in place as a voice began to fill the air, soft, sweet, and melodic. The voice filled their ears like flowing honey, demanding attention but not ordering it.
"All staffers, all staffers. The scheduled meet and greet will be in fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes. Remember, the meet and greet is on the eighth floor, the eighth floor!~ This meeting is open to the public, come and join us and learn what we're all about! We won't be waiting for anyone to start!~"
The team gave each other a series of looks. The invitation was obvious.
Alexei broke the silence, "So. I think we found where the people are."
Iris gave a curt nod, and the team made their way to one of the four elevators. Pressing the small button, a golden circle, the elevator immediately dinged and opened, welcoming them in. They all filed in; the cart just big enough to fit all of them. The doors sealed shut and the elevator began to race upwards. As it reached its zenith, the chime rang again, and the team walked out. They looked around, seeing a hallway to their right and no other paths. They passed through the aperture to it and found themselves in a long hallway.
Fluorescent office lights lit the ceiling, evenly spaced as far as the eye could see. The floors were a disgusting matte shag carpet. The walls were papered in a dull uniform green, broken up by nothing but the occasional patch of peeled paper revealing nothing on the wall beneath it. The team followed the hallway to a split intersection, a path going left and a path going right, with nothing to differentiate the two.
Cactusman suggested, "Let's split up! They seem about the same, I don't think one's better than the other."
Iris shot the idea down, "Let's not. We should stick together unless absolutely necessary. This a potentially anomalous location and we have yet to find anyone at all."
Iris pulled back the slide of her handgun and used the edge of the ejection port to scratch a long cross into the wall.
"Here, I've blazed it right here. Let's go left. If it dead ends, we can come back to this mark and go the other way."
No one had a better suggestion, so they all just nodded along. The Vessel decided that they could double down on the method and pulled out a spare map and their quill. They would catalogue their journey so that they could not be confused. These halls were so unfamiliar, and yet at the same time, distantly similar to the halls of The Foundation.
They walked for a length of time that felt neither long nor short. Just enough to be tiring, but their blaze still visible. Eventually, their walk brought them to a large box of a room. It had the same structure as the halls, but with a higher ceiling and a square shape. Eight hallways traversed into different directions, equidistant from each other. Agent Sharpe had pulled the radio off again and was trying to contact command to report their findings. Unfortunately, all he could get for his effort was static from the radio. No voice came through to greet him.
Alexei huffed, "Well. Let us make a mark here, too. I have a pocketknife from the truck."
He carved a cross into either side of the hallway they had just emerged from. As he got up off his knee, he looked back. Something caught his eye, or rather, the lack of something.
"Iris, come here."
"What?"
"This is the way we came from, correct?"
"You can look back and see the, oh."
The mark blazed into the walls was no longer within sight. Alexei speed walked to each of the eight pathways, all terminating at a distant junction and no mark visible within any of them. They were all the same.
Iris concluded, "I suppose that's the reality bending anomaly, then."