…In hindsight, it should have been obvious. All of the signs were there. Unfortunately hindsight is not the same as foresight…I'm just sorry that I was not the one who paid the price, in the Summer of Bad Memories…

-Excerpt, Personal Journal of Ruslav Diaghilev, 2018

Ruslav Diaghilev ran through the crowded market in the twisting streets of Alagadda, Adebeyo trailing behind him. Both Elder alchemists had croziers drawn, and deflected the blasts of alternating gravel and lightning from the two figures in front of them. Vendors and citizens jumped out of the way of the figures rampaging through the crowded stalls. The citizens of the city jumped out of the way of the blasts of elemental force that the Alchemists hurled at each other.
“Bozhe moi, Adebeyo, can you slow them down, I can't let down my counter-flows!” Ruslav yelled, the aether flows around his feet drawing up sparks from the stones of the ground augmenting his movement. With each pad of his feet on the ground, the earth pushed back up with him against his distinctive purple shoes, propelling him forward. On this plane, the Great Seal had significantly less effect than on their home plane. Aether flowed around and through them like water.
Adebeyo's teeth stood out from his dark skin, “Yes, grapefoot! I'll see you in a moment!” Adebeyo let out a whooping yell, calling out to the animistic aethers of life and blood. With a bounding leap, the Elder took flight on spectral hawk wings from his shoulders.
Ruslav couldn't help but marvel at his friend employing his full strength, no longer limited by the seal they had placed upon their own reality. He had never caught the knack for the aethers of life, but Adebeyo made it look easy. His eyes turned back to their quarry as his friend soared above them, hurling gouts of water which turned to ice beneath their feet.
The two Alagaddans took turns twisting around and hurling bolts, gouts, and chunks of various elements attempting to knock Adebeyo out of the sky or disrupt the masterful workings around his back. Their robes flipped back, revealing one to have a scale covered sphere for a head, and the other a collection of shifting chunks of flesh in the shape of a humanoid.
He banked left and right, easily dodging their counter-flows, not trying to deflect them. He laughed almost contemptuously as they continued to try and hit him with slow-moving projectiles, nearly tripping over every stall and stand.
The two native Alagaddans were out of place here in the City of Evergrinding Salts. Adebeyo had tracked a series of money transfers from Ledenoff technologies to a shell corporation that was owned by DeCorso Associates. DeCorso was a famous alchemist in his own right, but had always lived in Alagadda since as long as either Elder could recall, and had never held any business ventures on their plane. Their search had eventually lead to the pair of journeyman Alchemists fleeing from them.
Adebeyo let out a thunderous yell, crashing down a few feet in front of the two fleeing Alagaddans, their appendages backpedaling as they tried to escape the wrath of the Elder Alchemist. “With the blessings of WATER!” he boomed, gathering a veritable typhoon of Aequeous aether around him, manifesting in heavy swirls around the bald alchemist. Balls of ice, swirls of mist, and miniature waterspouts circled the street, blocking the way. Carts and stalls went flying before the fury of summoned air and ice. “I do not suggest you attempt to pass me. You will not enjoy the results.”
Far behind, a young man struggled to keep up, his breath labored as Arturo was overwhelmed with the sights, sounds, smells, and flows of the place. He couldn't believe how much aether swirled around them. He was having trouble just keeping his eyes focused on the flowing green robes in front of him. The Director was covering ground at a breakneck pace from the working around his feet. Arturo Genuomo saw a flash of blue and green, and felt the distinct crack of Adebeyo's alchemy, manifesting what felt to him like a blinding glare of the Aequeous aether.
The two Alagaddans, to their credit, froze in their tracks. They threw down the sinuous croziers favored by their masters, and lifted their gnarled hands in a gesture of surrender. “Elder, please, don't harm us. I surrender.” the scale-covered alchemist said.
Ruslav caught up with a heavy pant, as the fleshy Alagaddan muttered his surrender. “Thank you, Adebeyo. That was an impressive flow.”
Around them, the multitudenous shapes of the citizens of Alagadda screamed and ran in a panic. Displays of alchemy on this level were few and far between, but always meant trouble. In the corner, an old man who looked like he was made of knotted rags twisted over each other muttered, "Thrice damned alchemists, always mucking up market day…" He picked up the glittering pendants that had been knocked to the floor in the hubbub, and shuffled off cursing the entire time.
Adebeyo smiled, and let the waters recede, flowing a bit around his hands, hardening it in to a pair of icy manacles for each of the Alagaddans. “It was nothing, grapefoot. I rarely get a chance to cut loose like this. I enjoyed myself.”
Arturo caught up a moment later, panting, and doubling over, “Sangre de Cristo….I…I'm here, I am sorry Elders.” The four alchemists looked at the sweat streaked young man, the two Alagaddans grinning sheepishly.
“Apprentice?” the fleshy alchemist asked.
Ruslav's hand streaked out, covered in crackling electricity, knocking the slimy Alagaddan out cold. “Da, also, should have said earlier. Don't speak, or I'll shock you out.” Ruslav looked down at the convulsing form of the young alchemist. “Apologies for not saying it sooner.”
Adebeyo grinned, and moved towards Arturo, “Why don't you and the Director take our guests back to the Site for containment and questioning. I have a few things to wrap up here, before I head back.”
Arturo attempted to answer back, still panting with lost breath, before holding up a thumb, nodding. He looked up at the Director, with a questioning look.
The older alchemist chuckled, “Da, let us go back. I need to teach you to keep up with us old men.” He grasped Arturo by the shoulder in one hand, and the two Algaddans by the shoulders of their robes in either heavy knuckled hand. “Come on, gentlemen. I know a young researcher who would be fascinated to meet you…”
Adebeyo watched as the Elder and Apprentice walked towards a nearby doorway, Ruslav gesturing a portal back to the Site open with his chin. The Director, and the younger alchemist walked through the ragged edged portal, which closed behind them.
Adebeyo reached down to his pockets to make sure he had the gemstones that he'd need to acquire the goods he had in mind. He tuned to set off down an alleyway towards his favorite local eatery, before a tap alighted upon his shoulder.
Perplexed, Adebeyo turned, coming face to face with the ugly, scar ridden face of a man he recognized. “Ledenoff—?” he managed to get out before the darkness rose and he remembered nothing more…

…A 'Vessel' is anything that can hold, in a stable fashion, the aetheric pattern an alchemist imprints on it. It can be a protective working, some kind of long-lasting flow, or even memories. Some say that with enough power and study, an entire personality could be transferred to a suitable object. Unfortunately, such objects would need to be significantly more complex than anything produced by humanity. The theoretical application of takwin is a particularly artistic implementation of a vessel. To date no alchemist has successfully created takwin, but some day…

-Excerpt, A study on the uses of Alchemy, Eld. Trigsmestus, 1147

Sixteen Hours Later
Ruslav grimaced holding up the report on the skip. “You are sure? He's being held here?” He let the sheet of paper fall to the desk. Around the wide table, were gathered the three command members of his personal MTF, The Oathkeepers.
“We're sure, Director. All of our intelligence we recovered from the two prisoners points to this lab being where they're keeping Elder Adebeyo,” Agent DuMourne's eyes drilled in to those of the Director. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Storming an empty office got one of my agents sidelined. They still don't know when she's going to wake up. This time, we may not be so lucky. All of the recon we've got indicates this lab has a not-insignificant security force.”
Ruslav made a silencing gesture with his hand. “Immaterial. What kind of forces are we dealing with?”
Agent DuMourne opened the laptop in front of him, plugging it in to the display built in to the table. A map of the facility showed up on the screen in the middle of the table. “If it were me, I'd place heavy guard points in these junctions. Summers isn't stupid, and we're not sure exactly what he's capable of. Initial readings from the D-G Apparatus are showing at least a 7.2 on the baseline Aether levels. That's practically singing, right?”
“It does not matter. Requisition the heavy weapons, and armor. Meet me in the strike bay in forty. Use my authority to acquire whatever you feel is necessary to reduce this place to a stain on the earth.” Ruslav replied, his eyes distant.
Agent DuMourne paused a moment, before nodding. “Guthrie, you're with me. Tell the agents it's Christmas courtesy of the Director. Move out.” The command group for The Oathkeepers filed out of the room. Ruslav worked his jaw for a moment, before ejecting the SmarTab from the dock.
“I will bring the wrath of the Luna itself down if he's harmed you. I swear this by fire and by fury.” The director stormed out, a tight knot of tension growing between his shoulders. The door hissed shut behind him, leaving the room in the bowels of Site-17 humming with the usual background noise of power and ventilation.
Six minutes passed in relative silence.
A quiet warbling sound escaped from the area just beside where Ruslav had stood, a shimmering blue portal winking to life, belching out a heavyset but attractive man in his 40's.
Mike Summers wore a pair of khaki pants, a heavy grade bulletproof vest, and combat helmet. In his hands was a compact combat shotgun, and his bright pink polo shirt stood out garishly from the drab grey of his combat armor. He reached back through the portal, and waved, twelve more figures joining him in the confines of one of the operations room.
They moved with unnatural coordination, none of them speaking. Each of them was armed with a different variety of firearm. There were no nameplates on their combat gear.
Four of the assembled assault force walked over to the door, leveling weapons at it, the two in front dropping to a knee. Mike Summers did a quick scan of the room, and reached through the portal one more time.
A heavy quartz and pig iron crozier gripped by a thin and liver-spotted hand emerged from the glowing edifice. Karl Ledenoff stepped in to the operations room, looking around with his good eye, the heavy scarring over his left making that side of his face a useless mass. He lifted the twisted crozier, and concentrated, the air around him darkening slightly.
"It's here. It's definitely here. Down several fathoms at least. At least that thrice-damned Diaghilev is gone." Karl stumped around the room, examining the technology with a critical eye. "Useless junk." He swiped a hand through the air, and twisted the Fulminous aether to his will, frying the delicate electronics with random explosions of sparks.
"You sure you don't want a set of armor, Mister Ledenoff?" Mike offered cheerfully, his compact shotgun trained on the door. "I'd rather not have you catching a stray bullet."
Karl pushed Summers out of the way of the door dismissively. "No. And do not make such foolish suggestions again. I hold no fear for simple bullets. Let's move, his little pet 'Foundation' will detect our presence soon."
The assault force eased the door open, the lead man glancing out in to the hallway, checking both sides. He indicated to move forward, and the Team filed out, six ahead and six behind the polo and robe clad duo.
One of the group spotted a staircase sign at a T-intersection. The point man gestured to go straight, and turned a corner to check for hostiles, coming face-to-face with a researcher with a folder in his hands. He glanced up across their glasses, eyes half-glazed. He took in the intruder in gray fatigues, leveling a silenced weapon at them, and his eyes shot open. "You're not supposed to be here," the researcher squeaked out, frozen in panic.
Without hesitation, the lead assault force member let loose a half-dozen shots in to them, turning his chest in to a bloody pulp. He was dead before they hit the ground, the ballpoint he'd been chewing on hitting the ground a fraction of a second after them.
Mike padded out from the group, looking around, "That's gonna get their attention, we've got to go." He gestured towards the stairway door.
Karl walked out from the group, and stood over the bloody corpse of the young researcher they'd just murdered. He muttered something under his breath invoking the third language. The concrete of the floor winked open, and swallowed the blood and corpse left behind. Mike kicked in the spent brass from the mercenary's gun after them, and Karl closed the hole.
"Let's go. No evidence, they can't know it was us," he said. He stumped off to the staircase door, and pushed it open with his crozier. "Come on, we don't have all day!"
The dozen mercenaries filed in to the staircase, Mike and Karl taking up the middle once more.
The group descended level by level, Karl checking for a feeling of their target each time. After four levels, he grunted and said, "Here. It's here."
The dim lighting in the staircase reflected off of the visors of the mercenaries full-face helmets. They'd been expensive, but good help was invaluable in situations like this. "Let's go."
The lead mercenary nodded, and opened the door. He stepped out in to the hallway, and swept his gun from right to left. He took two steps in to the hallway, and jerked violently to the right, his helmet a bloom of tortured metal and wet skull fragments. The merc's blood glowed a dull green under the hallway lights.
Mike pushed Karl back in to the corner of the staircase, out of line of sight of the door, "Jesus christ, get back!" Shouting from down the hallway filed in to the small stairwell, as well as from above them. "Well shit, I think we're cut off. Any ideas, Karl?"
Ledenoff had barely reacted to all of this, his gaze elsewhere. "Yes, Summers. For one, shut up, and stop giving away our position. Let the mercenaries do their job, idiot. Our target is fifteen meters down the hall, past whatever just killed our compatriot. We're not leaving without it."
Mike grimaced, and looked up, trying to judge how far away the enemy forces were, "Can you get us out once we have it?"
Karl slapped Mike across the jaw, hard. His hand left small abrasions from the ice crystals he'd summoned from the surrounding water vapor, "Of course I can, why would you ask such dumb questions! Just do as you're told!"
Mike worked his jaw, and looked down. "Yes sir. Alright, you five, out in the hallway figure out what that was."
The five figured nodded in unison, and crouched low. The lead figure gave a slow three count with his fingers, then rolled out in to the hallway followed by two in a low crouch, and one in a prone position. The remaining two leaned out over the prone man to look down the hallway.
Two foundation agents manned a security checkpoint just behind a heavily armored door. They leveled large-caliber rifles down at the invading forces. A hail of bullets spat out at the mercenaries, clipping the lead figure in the shoulder, and sending him to the floor. Another was hit in the stomach, but barely reacted, gouts of dark green ichor oozing from the wound.
The other four figures fired in unison, cutting the security station to ribbons. The two agents fell to the ground, bleeding from a half dozen wounds each.
Behind them, Karl looked up at the staircase, and made a snatching motion. Invoking Terronous aethers, the walls groaned and extended outwards, chunks of rock and concrete intermixing. He had cut off any hope of foundation reinforcements from above on this staircase at least.
From the hallway, a not-quite human voice eeked out of the now-lead figure's helmet. "Clear."
Karl and Mike walked in to the adjoining hallway, and padded down to the heavily armored door. "This is it," Karl said.
The sign above the door read 'High Security Storage'. Karl looked at the door critically, and gestured to the figures. "Explosives."
One of them stepped forward, and handed Karl a string of detcord. He peeled the film off of the sticky portion, and stuck it against the hinges of the door.
From down the other end of the hallway, bootsteps started to echo throughout the halls. Mike turned and looked down at the remaining mercenaries, "Hold them off, we're going in."
The figures nodded in unison, and strode off, taking defensive positions within the stairwell, and around a nearby corner.
Karl pushed Mike back a few feet, and held up a hand, summoning more stones from the ground and walls to create an impromptu barrier between them and the door. Karl pressed the button on the attached detonator, and a hollow 'boom' shook the hallway.
The stones in front of them crumbled from the explosion, but did not fly backwards in to the pair. Karl hobbled over the rubble, and faced the door.
Mike looked down the hallway, grimacing. Two more of the mercenaries had been shredded by the explosion, and they were now holding off more Foundation security. Karl ignored them, and started towards the door, "Let's go, Summers, we don't have—"
Mike finally tore his gaze from the mangled bodies and said, "They're not gonna last long, we've got to hurr—"
Karl spun around towards Mike, and slammed his crozier into his knee. It broke with a sickly crunch. Mike screamed in agony, falling to the floor, and clutching his ruined knee.
Karl bellowed at the prone figure, "YOU DO NOT EVER INTERRUPT ME. DO NOT EVER TELL ME WHAT TO DO. RESPECT YOUR MASTER." He panted for several moments, bullets starting to zip past the rapidly shrinking mercenary force they'd brought. "Get inside, you stupid oaf. If you do not, I will not heal you this time."
Mike managed to three-limb drag himself in to the storage space, wishing for the thousandth time he'd never met Karl Ledenoff. He'd been injured more by the insane Alchemist than he'd ever thought possible. "Y-Yes sir…sorry sir…"
Karl waved dismissively at the prone figure invoking the aeqeous aethers, and strode in to the storage room. A shower of water landed over Mike's ruined knee, painfully knitting the flesh back together. Mike rose shakily to his feet, as the sounds of combat intensified. He almost asked Karl to hurry again, before biting back the thought.
The room was filled with dozens and dozens of storage lockers. Each locker held some object, with a neat description, and a reference code. Some of them were the size of a breadbox, others were from floor to ceiling.
Karl walked past two rows of objects before settling on a larger storage locker, with the number "2522". He smiled a crooked-toothed smile, and set his hand on the lockpad, summoning more of the Fulminous aether. It smoked, and the door clicked open, revealing the contents.
Mike Summers hobbled over to Karl, still shaky on his rapidly healed knee. "What is it?"
Karl Ledenoff reached forward, and pressed his hand against the chassis of the object in front of him, gently filling it with enough power from the Fulminous aether to turn on. The LEDs on its chest and status panel flickered to life, as a low hum issued from the anti-gravity generator on the bottom. "A vessel, Summers. This is the thing that we made all the Quaesturas nodes find for us. The perfect vessel."
One of the machine's hands reached down, and picked up the discarded hat on the ground, placing it upon its 'head'. From its voice box, a hissing sound issued forth, which slowly snapped in to focus. A single line came out, as recognizable English. "Fuck trees. I climb clouds motherfucker."
Karl turned, and his grin widened in to a rictus of elation. He gestured, and a portal opened in to an unknown plane. He quickly stumped through, followed by the floating form of former SCP-2522.
Mike Summers hesitated for a moment, as the bullets stopped flying outside the room. He weighed his options for a moment more, then dashed through the portal. It winked out of existence behind them, leaving the High Security Storage room silent from their presence.
Agents Sam Denton and Jim McDowell slipped in to the High Security Storage Room, moments after Karl and Mike dissipated, clearing the shelves one after another with weapons drawn.
Agent Denton worked his way down to the broken locker, shouting "Clear! I've got something over here!"
Jim strode up to his partner, and closed the door, looking at the designation. "2522. Which one was that?"
Sam paled, pulling out his phone, and dialing the local Foundation operator. "Get me a priority line to Dr. Mann."

…We are the stewards of a great power. With that comes the greatest of responsibilities: control and discipline. Unfortunately, there will always be those that abuse their power, political, personal, or even alchemic. All we can do is oppose those who would abuse such gifts…

-Excerpt, Meditations (unabridged), Marcus Aurelius
Copy stored in the former library of the College of Alchemists, pre-editing for public dissemination

Elsewhere
Director Diaghilev swung his crozier, an explosive combination of earth, fire, and frost blowing the vault door from its hinges from the inside. The multi-ton door soared past him, and over the head of Agent DuMourne. He stepped through, blood streaming down from a cut above his right eye, scanning for threats.
Behind him, Agent DuMourne padded, a heavy strip of duct tape around his thigh, covering a wound in a make-shift compression bandage. "Sir, slow down! We left the entire team behind, I can't guarantee your safety!"
Ruslav slashed the air, the dull crackle of thunder audible in the gesture. "Safety not important. Can take care of myself. We must find him." Ruslav walked through the spacious laboratory, sensing his friend's Aetheric flows weakening. He walked with purpose through the banks of lab equipment, all gleaming steel and matte plastics. Dozens of banks of computers, rows of beakers, and creatures in cages dotted the shelves and countertops of the ground floor of the laboratory.
The laboratory itself was massive, with multiple levels of cat-walks and support struts holding up the heavier equipment above them.
He abruptly looked up, and spotted a dark skinned figure strapped in to a harness of tubes and machinery on the topmost catwalk of the cavernous building. Around him, several smaller figures worked, adjusting dials and knobs on the outside of the apparatus.
Ruslav made a beckoning gesture, and invoked the aethers of earth and electricity, generating a magnetic field directly in front of him. With an invocation of the ferrous aethers, the support struts for the machine snapped, the magnetic field gently lowering the apparatus to the floor.
The three people working on the machine fell from the walk-way towards the ground. Ruslav gestured again, invoking the Tenebrous aether to increase the gravity field around their descent, slamming them in to the ground as if they were on Jupiter. The results were messy.
Agent DuMourne gaped at the carnage the Director had wrought, his stomach turning slightly. He jogged up to catch up with the Elder, keeping his weapon leveled as best he could.
Inside the apparatus, Adebeyo was strapped to a crude table, upright. Leads had been attached to his skin, and several tubes had been threaded in to his chest. Bright fluids flowed in to his body, which had emaciated to near-skeletal proportions. A dull groan escaped his chapped lips, as Ruslav rushed to the 'pod'.
"Adebeyo, friend. Please, come on, wake up." Ruslav's eyes blurred slightly, summoning water to his hand, invoking the Aequeous aethers. He imbued the liquid with as much energy as he could, trying to encourage it to heal his friend.
Adebeyo sipped the liquid, and smiled slightly, fresh blood flowing from cracks in his skin. "Grapefoot. You are here…"
Ruslav nodded, panting slightly. "I'm here, I've got you. I'll get you fixed up in a moment, hold on." He began to summon the Aequeous aether around his friend, invoking the healing energies of water. He added a flow of terronous aether to the flow, pushing more energy out.
Adebeyo shook his head weakly, "Grapefoot…no." He gestured as best he could to the tubes pushing liquids between his ribs. "They've been tubing alkiri blood in to me for hours…"
Ruslav's eyes went wide, and his mouth opened slightly, "Aetheric poisoning? No, I…I but it won't…"
Adebeyo grimaced in pain, "This was a trap, Grapefoot. He's after a vessel. It's at the site…he used me to find your aetheric signature. The moment you weren't there to stop him, he left…"
Ruslav's face went blank, attempting to process the information that Adebeyo presented him with. "A vessel for what?"
Adebeyo took in another pained breath, and started to speak, but it was too much. His last breath shook out of him, and he hung his head, finally free of the mortal shackle he'd held for the past seven hundred years. Elder Adebeyo Nakadami passed out of this world, witnessed by an Elder, and a Layman.
"No. No, no no…no no no, Adebeyo, no no, you're not…no…" Ruslav's voice was a cracked murmur, barely above a whisper. He looked down at the slack face in his hands, trying in vain to revive his best friend.
Ruslav fell to his knees, his hands on the floor. He clamped his eyes shut, letting out a frustrated bellow of grief. The flows around him grew chaotic, his control slipping and his grief lashing out at the forces surrounding them. The very bones of the earth shook with his fury, as lightning raged overhead, the storm winds tearing off the roof of the facility. A torrential rain began to fall, soaking DuMourne, Ruslav, and the body of Adebeyo to the bone. The local gravity field started to slowly warp, at random.
Agent DuMourne struggled against the forces flowing out of the Director, and slapped a hand on to his shoulder, "DIRECTOR! DIRECTOR, CALM DOWN, YOU'RE TEARING THIS PLACE APART!"
Ruslav took a shaky breath, asserting control over his Aetheric Flows, and more importantly his emotions, calming the core of alchemic might inside of him that he'd nearly let loose. The storm calmed, and left the two men standing in the ruins of a facility.
The rest of the Oathkeepers finally caught up to them, and stood in a rough semi-circle around DuMourne. He reached up, and spoke in to his radio, connected with Foundation command. "We need an extraction. Twenty plus one." He paused a moment, listening to the response. "Twenty plus one, and a bodybag. Mission failed."
Ruslav buried his face in his hands, weeping for a remarkable soul.
…I asked him, "Master, what is it like when you lose control of your power?" After the usual curses and invectives, Karl looked at me, and said "I can shake the very heavens with my fury. And if you do not clean out the hearth, you will feel it in the back of my hand!". Karl was not a particularly kind teacher, but he taught me quite a bit about human nature in the end. Significantly more than he knew, ironically enough…

-Excerpt, Ruslav Diaghilev: A Remarkable Life; Vol 1, Arturo Genuomo 2031

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« A Vale Of Tears | Dread & Circuses Hub | Oh, I Wouldn't Worry About Flaky-Os »

“Now keep your eyes covered, no peeking,” Lolly said as she led a blind Icky through the Circus grounds towards the parking lot.
“I'm not peeking, you're the one who always peeks,” Icky smirked.
“I don't always peek; just when I really want to know what the surprise is,” Lolly said. “Okay, we're here. Open your eyes in three, two, one… tada!”
Icky uncovered her eyes, and floating two feet off the ground in front of her was a shiny violet hovercraft. Its design was superficially similar to a Corvette, only somewhat more streamlined with an elliptical tinted dome over the passenger compartment. Ragamuffin (Lolly's demonically possessed purple-haired rag doll) was jumping up and down excitedly on the roof, eager to go for a ride.
“Isn't it amazing?” Lolly asked in a high pitched squeal. “I found it in a reserved parking spot almost right next to the elevator, so it must have belonged to someone pretty rich and important. It's nicer than our Porsche, right? Tell me you think it's better than the Porsche.”
“It's gorgeous. Not worth you almost becoming fused into an Unclean for all eternity, but I've never seen anything like it,” Icky replied.
“Iris said it's held up by quantum flux pin tubes or something. It just stays at whatever height you push it to without consuming any energy, so you don't even need to worry about falling from the sky. Oh, and check this out.”
Lolly jumped on the roof and slid down the hood with remarkable fluidity, with Ragamuffin following right behind her.
“The exterior is made from some nearly frictionless metamaterial so it can go super fast! Plus it's powered by a cold fusion reactor, it's got a super smart autopilot with sonar and LIDAR and wifidar so it will never crash, and the air freshener still smells like pine! So what do you think? Did I pick a good share of the loot or what?”
“You did amazing darling. This is, I… we can drive this right now?”
“Yeah yeah yeah. Iris jailbroke the computer and said the OS was really intuitive. Get in the driver's seat and I'll show you.”
Scooping up Ragamuffin, Lolly popped into the passenger seat while Icky sat on the driver's side. The interior of the hovercraft was not remarkably different from what one would expect for any other high-end car, the main differences being that the steering wheel was closer to that of an airplane's and most of the dash was plastered with touchscreens.
“Another reason this is better than the Porsche is that this has a backseat. Can you imagine making whoopee in this thing when it's a thousand feet in the air?”
“Only if we put a blanket down first; this upholstery's frickin' amazing,” Icky replied as she ran her hands along the armrests. “Okay, so how do we turn this thing on?”
“Iris said you just tap the central screen,” Lolly replied. Ragamuffin got up from her lap and began eagerly tapping the screen, which turned to frustrated pounding and soft hissing when nothing happened. “Ragamuffin, you know your cute little cotton hands don't work on touchscreens. Here, use the stylus.”
The doll snatched the pink stylus from Lolly's hand and tapped the screen. This time, it made a soft chiming sound and a “Faithful Auto-OS” logo with two hands clasped in prayer briefly appeared before being replaced by numerous widgets and readouts.
Ragamuffin danced around in a circle in triumph.
“See, look at all this cool stuff. It uses its whole sensor suite to map out the surrounding area, identify moving objects and anticipate their movements. The autopilot never completely gives up control so you can't hit anything. Plus there's video chat, internet, satellite radio -”
“Holy shit!” Icky said, staring at the speedometer. “The top speed on this sucker is 1500 miles per hour! That's like twice the speed of sound!”
“I know, it's amazing!” Lolly squeed. Ragamuffin gestured for Lolly to pick her up. “What is it, Ragamuffin?”
She held the doll to her ear, and all Icky could make out was soft but haunting whispers.
“What is she saying?”
Lolly lowered Ragamuffin to her lap and smiled mischievously.
“She wants us to take it out for a test drive.”
Icky looked down at the steering wheel yearningly.
“No. We can't do that. This thing is too conspicuous. We'll be nabbed by the Essie P or Geo Sea in no time.”
“Of course,” Lolly nodded in mock seriousness.
“We can use it for acts, and maybe take it out around free ports like Threeportlands.”
“Makes sense.”
“But going out for a joyride in Humdrum territory would be irresponsible.”
“Very.”
“It would be reckless.”
“Extremely.”
Icky looked at Lolly and saw her smiling in anticipation. Icky smiled too.
Throwing the gearshift into drive and slamming her foot down on the pedal, the hovercraft tore out of the Circus.
In barely a second it accelerated to a hundred kilometers an hour, the autopilot violently pushing the car out of the path of objects and pedestrians.
“Pull up, pull up!” Lolly screamed. Icky pulled back on the steering column and the car drifted upwards. They were at least twenty feet in the air when she let it level out.
“Okay, that's better. Nothing up here to it hit but trees and buildings, and I should be able to avoid those,” Icky said. She pressed on the pedal more gently this time, and they softly accelerated into the surrounding countryside. Gliding over mostly farmlands, backwoods and hamlets, few people had the opportunity to witness the extra-universal flying car.
“This is awesome! I've never been in a low flying vehicle like this! Everything is so pretty from this height!” Lolly exclaimed as she pressed her nose against the window. “Wow, we're really picking up speed.”
“I know, and we're not even at maximum acceleration. This thing is insane!” Icky said. Faster and faster they went until the car started shaking.
“What's that?” Lolly asked.
“That's the Mach cone building up in front of us, I think. It happens as you approach the speed of sound. Don't worry, once we're supersonic it will be smooth sailing.”
“We're going supersonic?” Lolly screamed in a nearly ultrasonic high-pitched voice.
“We gotta test this baby's full capabilities, right?” Icky smiled. “I'm not sure how big of a sonic boom this thing will make. We're close to the ground, but we're small, so hopefully we don't break too many people's windows. Hold on.”
Grasping the wheel tightly and pushing the pedal to the metamaterial, the craft broke through the sound barrier, all vibrations ceasing as it trailed a thunderous boom behind it.
“Woo!” they both screamed in triumph, laughing hysterically. The countryside beneath them now rushed by in a blur, quickly turning to wilderness as they flew out into the sparsely populated western half of the United States.
“We are now at 1500 miles per hour! Mach Two!” Icky announced. “Hey, I just noticed something; the speedometer is analogue but the altimeter is digital. Did Iris say how high this thing can go?”
“She didn't. Do you think it can go all the way to space?” Lolly asked.
“Only one way to find out. Hold on baby girl.”
Keeping her foot pressed all the way down on the accelerator, Icky pulled back hard on the throttle, and they began ascending at a steep 45-degree angle. Every second of flight put nearly half a mile of space beneath them, and they soon punched through the clouds and beheld the curvature of the Earth.
It was at this point an alarm button began to beep.
“Warning; this vehicle does not possess shielding from Heavenly Rays, climate control suited for thin atmosphere, or air supply beyond what is contained in the passenger compartment. Ascending higher, or remaining at this altitude for a protracted portion of time, is ill-advised.”
“Ill-advised, you say? Duly noted,” Icky smirked. She maintained her ascent but noticed that the arrow on the speedometer was starting to go down.
“What's happening? Why are we slowing down? Is it the autopilot?” Lolly asked.
“I don't think so, I think it's the jet engines,” Icky said, pointing at the display on the screen. “The air's too thin for them to work, so they shut down. We're just coasting now. I'm sorry sweetie, I don't think we're actually going to make it to space.”
Lolly groaned disappointedly, but Ragamuffin began tapping on the screen to draw their attention.
“What is it, Ragamuffin?” Lolly asked. “Fusion Afterburner? That sounds like some kind of Sci-fi rocket engine that can get us into space!”
“… I don't know. Maybe we should turn back. I mean, the computer said that this thing isn't meant for space travel and -”
Before Icky could finish, Ragamuffin practically stabbed the button with her stylus. At least three gees worth of inertia nailed them to their seats as the craft blasted forward at hypersonic speeds, a plume of ionized gas trailing from the rear afterburner. The two Clowns screamed in a mixture of terror and excitement, while the demon doll clapped her hands in celebration. Icky tried to turn it off, reaching for the touchscreen against the inertial forces holding her back, but nothing she touched seemed to do anything. After nearly a minute of violent acceleration, the afterburner finally cut out and the g-forces relented.
“Afterburner reserves have been exhausted. The Fusion Afterburner is now on cooldown, and is no longer available,” the autopilot announced.
“Thank god,” Icky heaved in relief. “Ragamuffin, that was not okay! Bad doll!”
“Oh, Icky look! Look where we are!” Lolly said in awe. Beneath them was the soft blue planet-shine of the Earth, and above them was the nearly empty void of the rest of the universe. “We're in space! We're in space!”
“We're in space with a limited air supply, jet engines that don't work in a vacuum, and a fusion thruster that may take longer to come back online then we have,” Icky said, her porcelain white face somehow losing colour.
“Since when are you a stick in the mud?” Lolly asked. “We have magic. We'll be fine. Just relax and enjoy this. We're in space!”
Ragamuffin began jumping up and down, trying to float, and then shook her fists in frustration at the persistence of gravity.
“She makes a good point. Why aren't we floating?” Icky asked.
“Oh, I know that! It's because we're not in orbit, we're just being held up by the quantum pin things!” Lolly replied. “Astronauts in low earth orbit are only weightless because they're in perpetual freefall, but the gravity at this height isn't actually much weaker than it is on the surface.”
“Where did you learn that?”
“A Youtube video explaining why the opening scene of The Last Jedi wasn't inaccurate.”
“Huh.”
Despite her concerns, Icky took a moment to admire the view.
“It is beautiful up here. Hardly anyone has ever seen the Earth from space, you know? The number of mundane astronauts that have been to space is under six hundred. I have no idea how many anomalous spacefarers there's been, but it's still got to be only a tiny fraction of the anomalous community. This is at least a once in a million lifetime chance. It's incredible.”
“Oh, maybe that guy might know how many anomalous astronauts there are!”
“What guy – HOLY SHIT!”
It was at that moment that SCP-1959, The Lost Cosmonaut, collided with their little hovercraft. Now, normally the Cosmonaut would just plough right through any debris he crashed into, but Icky had reflexively thrown up an essokinetic force field to protect them, allowing both them and their hovercraft to survive the hundreds of gees of force from being almost instantly accelerated to 28 000 kilometers an hour.
SCP-1959 was now pressed against their windshield like a suction cup stuffed animal, pushing them along with him on his orbital sojourn. He pounded his right palm against the screen and shook his head vehemently, as if trying to warn them of something.
“Holy hell, is there someone inside that thing?” Icky cried in disbelief.
“One second,” Lolly said as she reached into her pockets and pulled out a pair of star-shaped glasses. “Yep, there's a guy in the suit, and there's some kind of incorporeal eldritch meanie possessing him. Oh, the eldritch meanie sees us. Hi eldritch meanie!”
The Presence possessing the brave cosmonaut sensed that it had finally crashed into something it couldn't destroy. It sensed it had an opportunity to end the half-century-long stalemate and finally descend upon the Earth. Surely the strange occupants of the craft intended to return to the world below. All the Presence had to do was hold on, not let the Cosmonaut gain enough control to push them off, overcome his eternal nemesis for just a little bit longer until –
It was at this point that Ragamuffin threw herself against the window, opening her mouth wide. While the Clowns inside the craft heard only the inhuman screeches of the Tartarean Plane, the Cosmonaut and the Presence both saw in their minds the Ragdoll's true nature.
That horror was enough for the Presence to loosen its control over the Cosmonaut just enough for him to push them off of the hovercraft, and resume their unceasing struggle.
“Bye eldritch meanie!” Lolly waved as SCP-1959 drifted out of sight. She giggled as Ragamuffin gleefully floated past her, doing backflips in the air. “See, now that we're orbiting there's no gravity. I wish there was room in here for us to float around.”
“Lolly, sweetie, we got a problem,” Icky said as she pointed to the flashing display screen. “We're losing altitude, we don't have enough momentum to maintain orbit.”
“What are you talking about? This thing is supposed to stay suspended at whatever height you put it at.”
“It's saying that the ‘fluxon lattice' has been knocked out of alignment, whatever that is. We need to come to a full stop to allow for realignment.”
“Yikes. That's a problem. Well, ah, once we're back in the atmosphere we can use the jet engines to slow our descent!”
“Hey Siri, or whatever your name is, how quickly can this car decelerate at?” Icky asked.
“Maximum deceleration is 60 miles per hour per second,” the autopilot replied.
“Okay, that's a hundred kilometers per hour per second, and though I can't be sure I would guess we're moving around 28 000 kilometers an hour, so it would take a little under five minutes to come to a full stop. If we were heading straight down, at our current speed we'd crash into the Earth in under twenty seconds. That's not good. I'll maintain as shallow as an angle of descent as I can, but I don't see how I can stretch that out to five minutes. Plus all the air building up in front of us will heat up to like three thousand degrees. Siri, what's the melting temperature of this car's body?”
“The melting point of this vehicle's outermost plating is 4500 degrees Celsius.”
“Really? That's surprising, but good. Just means we'll die on impact instead of burning up on re-entry,” Icky chuckled nervously.
Lolly placed her hand comfortingly on Icky's forearm and smiled at her.
“Hey, it's okay. I trust you. I know you'll figure something out. You'd never let anything happen to me.”
Icky smirked at her lover's seemingly baseless vote of confidence. She picked up Lolly's hand and kissed it.
“You're right. We'll be fine. Eugene and Pius get out of worse scrapes than this on a weekly basis. The low-friction material of this car is going to work against slowing us down, but if I angle us so that we're falling underside first that should generate the most drag, plus generate a shockwave that will keep the hottest of the air away from us. Hey Siri, what sort of crash and emergency landing features do you have for me?”
“In the event of a fluxon lattice failure, six impact-resistant airbags will be deployed along the perimeter of the vehicle, capable of withstanding over 1 million newtons of force,” the autopilot informed her. “Drag chutes may also be deployed for emergency deceleration.”
“So, balloons basically?” Icky asked. “We're good with balloons.”
“So we go in bottom first to maximize drag, firing the jet engines on full reverse once we're deep enough for them to work, and during the last mile we deploy the drag chutes and let the airbags inflate, with both of us giving them each a little bit of Circus magic so they can withstand the high-speed impact,” Lolly suggested.
“That sounds like a plan,” Icky grinned. Cracking her neck in preparation, she brought up all the commands she would need on the screen to have them at the ready. “Hang on Little Lollipop, this is going to be a rough landing.”
Their long arcing suborbital path took them ever downwards, and once they hit the Karman line, the superheated compressed air on the underside of the craft began to glow an incandescent red. At first, it was only an ember, but the deeper into the atmosphere they fell the stronger it became. Soon it was a raging, roaring inferno which seemed certain to devour them, but the autopilot's words held true and their vehicle neither melted nor combusted. Icky did her best to keep their angle of re-entry as shallow as possible, but since the thrusters had been designed to work in tandem with the quantum levitation, there was only so much they could do on their own. Once more they felt the g-forces of deceleration slowing them down, but their speed was so immense it hardly seemed like they were slowing down at all.
Closer and closer they drew to Earth, until before them was a vast expanse of Gobi desert with nothing to crash into, other than the ground.
“Our speed is still off the scale! Lolly, put everything you've got into keeping this thing together! Siri, deploy external airbags and drag chutes!”
“Deploying external airbags and drag chutes,” the autopilot chirped in reply.
Three enormous airbags inflated on each side of the hovercraft, with three even more enormous drag chutes firing from the rear. Their combined drag managed to slow them down just a little bit more before they crashed.
Striking the sandy ground at such high speeds, by all rights the craft should have exploded into a million pieces. Instead, thanks to a combination of its advanced materials and the essokinetic reinforcement provided by the Clowns, the hovercraft bounced off the ground, its airbags reacting to the impact with anomalous elasticity. It tumbled wildly through the air in a hyperbolic arc, until bouncing off the ground again hundreds of meters away. It bounced several more times until it finally lost enough momentum and instead just rolled along the ground before finally skidding to a stop.
“Woo! That was awesome!” Lolly cheered, holding her arms up in celebration. Ragamuffin climbed up onto the cup holder and started jumping up and down exuberantly, gesturing to the gear shift. “Ragamuffin wants to go again!”
“I'm never taking the doll anywhere again without strapping her down with duct tape first,” Icky said, burying her face in her palm. “That was quite possibly the stupidest thing I've ever done.”
“It was fun though,” Lolly countered. Icky looked at her, at first seeming like she was going to reprimand her, but then smiled.
“Yeah, it was. But no more space trips though. Once was enough.”
“But we only got in trouble because that Cosmonaut ran into us. What are the odds of that happening twice?”
“There's a lot of space junk and satellites up there Lolly. We're not risking it.”
“Okay, how about this then; we take it through a Way to a world without any of that stuff and fly it there?”
Icky actually appeared to consider this for a moment.
“Maybe,” she said, much to Lolly's and Ragamuffin's delight. “Siri, how's the fluxon lattice thing doing?”
“The fluxon lattice has been realigned, and flux pinning levitation is fully restored,” the autopilot replied.
“Good. Let's find a door big enough to squeeze this thing through and a make a Way back to the Circus. It's too risky to drive straight there. I'm sure we must have been detected. There's probably Mobile Task Forces and Geo Sea Strike Teams heading for us right now.”

Log of Extranormal Events
Event Description: A Unidentified Flying Object was detected by the PANOPTICON network, in addition to being spotted by numerous eyewitnesses. The craft ascended from the ground to above the Karman line, making an intercontinental, sub-orbital flight. The objected briefly collided with SCP-1959 during its time in space.
Date of Occurrence: ██/██/████
Location: Midwestern USA, Low Earth Orbit, Gobi Desert.

Follow-up Actions Taken: Standard UFO sighting procedures were enacted for the affected areas. A Mobile Task Force was sent to investigate the craft's estimated landing point. While multiple impact craters were discovered, indicating a crash landing, no debris was found. It should be noted that the MTF was not dispatched until several hours after the UFO was first detected by the network, as the relatively low priority threat went ignored by most senior staff, who were preoccupied with the six-week long SCP-4000 initiative.

“You never know. Maybe everyone will be too distracted by something super important to notice something as silly and insignificant as a couple of Circus Clowns flying into space.”

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