"Oh, my god!"
"Yeah, heheh, it's… it's pretty, big! Heheh, we, uh… there was a call, and I thought I'd surprise everyone — we'd surprise everyone, with the big reveal, heh. So… Here's Pepper!"
Pepper did a slow, unsure curtsy. "That's… me."
"You're… wow!" Icky's tone felt like a poised cat. Brainy wrung his hands and made every breath deep and filling. Pepper only glanced between the two of them. "That's really fantastic! You really outdid yourself, Marty! What a great way to end — this set, this Circus, this time around, fucking great, am I right or am I right Manny?"
Sweat worked like a humidifier.
"Well, this is interesting to say the least." Manny stood from his seat and made his way to Brainy, slipping his arm around his shoulder, and nudging him ever so slightly towards the exit.
"Yes! Truly!" Icky didn't seem to blink. "Well, nice to finally meet you in person, Pepper! Say, any way you could get back in the mirror? I'm not sure I get how this works. See, this haunted house, man, big surprise! Invested a lot of time into the marketing here, but I guess that's not necessary anymore! So glad to meet you in person, Pepper!"
"Uhhh, you too Icky…"
"Well —"
"Really," Manny cut Marty off, "this is all very interesting, and I'm… happy for Pepper too, of course, I'm sure Lolly will be very excited to hear about this."
"Yes, and —"
"And I'm sure that there's a lot to discuss, but at this very moment, Icky and I have a lot of paperwork to get through —"
"Oh, Manny, they can stay just a bit longer if they want to! We're in no rush —"
"I just think we'd like to get to sleep as early as possible, big day tomorrow —"
"I'd be interested to know how you got her out of that mirror, Marty! Or, why? Why in the world did this happen? What miracle paired 'new hit attraction' with 'ruin it all for everyone'? Oh, and how long was this a plan? Would've been nice to know!"
"Icky, I realize we should have warned you, but there was just… so much going on, and, the Circus up and running, and we really thought people would be… excited just to see —"
"I guess we don't need these anymore," Icky violently tore a phonebook-thick stack of posters into thirds. "'Cause who cares, right? How much effort went into all this stuff. How much resources were poured into that creaky metal-but-looks-like-wood mirror filled money sink house. Inconsequential, honestly, when compared to the whims and wants of Calvin and Hobbes!"
"Alright, Marty, Pepper, I think you ought to be going now —"
"Lolly'll be ecstatic! I'll tell her first thing tomorrow morning!"
"Alright kids, the Ringmaster and I really have to get to work…" Manny pushed, with little to no resistance, Brainy and Pepper out of the tent and into the dusty night. He mouthed "go, go, go" to the frightened pair, and soon enough they were walking, perhaps jogging, back into the shadowy visage of the Circus. Manny turned around to see a heaving, huffing Icky, standing over the corpse of an advertisement for the rising star's first ride.
Manny slid a small bottle of Clown Impulse Suppressant over to Icky.
She batted it off the table.
"Veronica —"
"This is great!"
"Yeah, I should have had someone keeping a closer eye on him."
"What was our contract with him?"
"Ride design in a week, and then if we liked it we kept him."
"Hmm. Interesting. Well, how do you like a non-existent ride?"
"Well, we still have the ride itself. I'm sure we can find a replacement for Pepper."
"In two days?! We find a new act maybe once a month, at best! This was our once a month act, and now it's ruined! We can sooner fire this asshole!"
"Look, the kid screwed up. I screwed up, but I still think you're making this out to be worse than it is. Yes, he just cost us our latest attraction, but he also proved to us he's capable of designing a great attraction. I think that so long as he's supervised and we make it clear he's not to do this sort of thing again, it's worth giving him a second chance. To fire him now would be to kill the goose that laid the golden egg. Our attraction is defunct, you're right. The set is great, though. It's possible to get Marty to design something using the leftover parts."
"Well —! Okay, yes, that's valid." Icky was taken aback for a hot second. "Do you have a soft spot for this ex-Wondertainment guy, Manny?"
Manny smiled slightly. "I do. I think he's got a whole hell of a lot of conviction, and Wondertainment level skills mean a big benefit to our Circus."
Icky sat down and buried her face in her elbows.
She sighed.
"So what if you're right? Okay, we're down our starring latest and greatest sideshow. A damn good sideshow." She lifted her head just to glare at Manny. Not a glare to truly aim at Manny himself, but a glare because all her thoughts were glare-worthy. "Fine! You're right. Pepper's happier, Marty's happy that she's happy, he can make more rides, fine! Doesn't mean I'm happy about it."
"You have every right not to be happy about it. I'm not happy about it. I simply believe that firing Marty now would be a mistake we might regret." Manny stood for a second, then made his way to his seat. "So. We still have a lot of paperwork, but if we work hard we can get it done in an hour."
Icky grumbled. She picked up her pen, and flipped to the next set of agreements. Something to do with positioning of tents and how certain sized things can only fit certain places. It would require drawing out where everything would be set up, and on such uneven terrain that was easily going to take more than an hour.
Manny had already started scribbling on his next paper, but Icky groaned and loathed the paperwork she was faced with. Perhaps in an effort to procrastinate, or perhaps in want of getting something out of her system, or maybe a bit of both, Icky brought something up at a volume louder than needed.
"There's still something wrong!"
"Mmm?"
"What have you seen in Marty?"
"What do you mean?"
"Inside him, Manny, what have you seen Inside him."
"Oh," Manny blinked twice. "He's hard to read."
"A ha! And why do you think that is?"
"I can compare what I read to a child. It's somewhat nebulous, like he doesn't think about himself all that often. Like he's not made much of an identity for himself, or decided on any real beliefs or ideals. I think that's fitting, coming from Wonder World. Their culture is childish indulgence. I wouldn't worry about it. Otherwise, he feels human."
"Feels human, huh?"
"Yes."
"Ever met anyone else from Wonder World?"
"On occasion."
"Do they really feel the way he does?"
Manny narrowed his eyes and shifted his cheeks.
"Manny, he took a soul out of a soul trap mirror."
"Hmm." Manny contemplated. "I believe that older Dr. Wondertainment models have had soul dealing involved."
"But not the new ones, their new management has written that out of their itinerary! And besides, a soul doesn't automatically equal a body, right? Where did that come from?"
Manny tightened up. "I'm not versed in soul arts. That could have been in the mirror."
"Have you heard the rumors?"
Manny sighed. "How could I not have."
"What if he's crazy, Manny? Would that account for not being able to read him?"
Manny finally stopped writing and set down his pen, looking straight ahead, thinking.
"Well?"
Manny exhaled in what might have been annoyance. "Some forms of madness can interfere. It's possible."
"So we're left with an ex-Wondertainment employee who showed up out of nowhere, into the middle of a show, of all things, and he seems entirely off kilter, is hard to read, rumors start that he's some kind of homicidal, and then later we learn he knows soul arts of all things. Including vessel creation. In fact, including flesh vessel creation. Where did he learn that? Why would a Wondertainment employee, who wasn't even there long enough to get a single toy out, be able to do that?"
Manny breathed out through his nose, pursed his lips, and made eye contact with Icky.
"Who was that person he said stole his idea?"
"It was a man named Brainy Brian Harding. Supposedly a big Dr. Wondertainment name."
"Anyone looked that up? Investigated it? At all?"
Manny grunted. "We don't normally do background checks, due to someone's distaste for paperwork." Icky snickered, and they shared a smile. Manny took a large breath, shifted the corners of his lips, and then picked up and waggled his pen.
"Well?"
Manny began to write once more. "You're absolutely right. It's suspicious. I'll look into it once we get the internet back up and running. Should occur tomorrow, if Gary's on schedule."
"Okay," Icky seemed satisfied. "Good."
She sat back down, and pulled out a pen, ready to mark up the map with all the tent locations.

Brainy and Pepper walked into the break room of Clown Alley, where only a lone girl who looked like she had just come from a day at the beach idled. Looking over her shoulder from filling her cup full of hot water for tea, her eyes widened and she pressed harder on the dispenser's button. Soon after, she rushed off behind a curtained doorway.
Brainy drooped, and Pepper patted him on the back.
"Don't worry," Brainy sighed. "I'm used to it."
The two passed through a different curtained doorway and snuck through tight hallways fitted with four cots, two on each side, each loaded with a sleeping Clown or performer. Through several similar halls, past a bathroom, and through a storage closet, Brainy and Pepper came to a row of doors that led to real, actual rooms. The one labeled 04 was Brainy's and, in the very dim lighting of a flashlight with adjustable brightness that Brainy had made himself, he fumbled the keys that Manny had given him into the lock. These quarters were honorary, and the privilege of staying in them was gifted to those who had done something substantially good for the Circus as of late. Brainy was awarded with this room after he had finished Pepper's House of Mirrors. Brainy expected that he would only have the room for this location, but after that interaction with Ringmaster Icky, Brainy was certain of it.
Brainy and Pepper filed in through the slim door, Brainy having to duck because of the low ceiling, and quietly closed the entrance. Afterwards, Brainy moseyed towards his bed and sat so he didn't have to crane his neck while standing. Pepper was perfect height for this room, though, so was able to comfortably stand upright.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"I should've told them we were getting you a body. I should have waited until I had another idea for a ride, at the very least. This was stupid of me. Impulsive. I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm happy, no matter if Icky is pissy about my very existence. You don't have to worry about me. I've dealt with, like, hundred fifty years or something of people's shit. If there's anyone to worry about, it's you."
The flashlight's sole illumination of the room left only Brainy's arms and feet particularly visible, along with a sizeable stretch of brown shag carpet. "Mmm," was Brainy's only response. Thirty seconds passed in awkward silence. Brainy sniffled.
"Oh, don't tell me you're crying…"
"I'm not crying."
Brainy's hand disappeared into the darkness where his head must have been.
"It's okay, it's okay," Pepper sat down next to Brainy and rubbed his back. "You put too much credence into what others think of you."
"Image is everything," Brainy mumbled in automatic response.
"Look, tomorrow she'll have calmed down and we can handle this like adults. She's just gonna throw a fit because this wasn't what was planned, but we're not going anywhere. It'll be fine."
Brainy sniffed. "You really think so?"
"I do."
Brainy spent a calming moment allowing Pepper to just rub his back. The repetitive tactile motion slowly brought Brainy down to a normal energy level once more. Or, at least close. He wiped his nose with his hand, wiped his hand on the scratchy wool blanket, and then felt for his lunchbox on the shelf nearest him. He knew he had left it there, but he didn't remember where. It took a much larger lean than he had expected to finally fondle a cold metal impression in the dark. After acquiring his lunchbox, Brainy opened it and pulled out a turkey sandwich. Along with it, a bottle of purple pills, labeled "Emergency Clown Impulse Suppressant". Pepper stiffened at the sight of it. Brainy took two pills out, popped them in his mouth, and then bit a large mouthful of sandwich.
Pepper's reassuring rubbing stopped, and she slowly lowered her hand.
"Mmm?" Brainy managed through a sandwich. After swallowing, "something wrong?"
"Nothing, Brian. It's nothing"
Brainy fondled the pill bottle, and then set it back inside his box. "It's okay. I don't like me either."
"No, Brainy, it's not that." Pepper sat with her hands on her knees. "I like you."
"There's nothing about me to like."
"There's plenty about you to like."
"I'm scum," Brainy's voice cracked, "I'm the worm in the apple, and people revolt when they bite into me."
"No, that's just not true. Brainy, you are the shiny apple. These pills keep you that shiny apple. That worm isn't you. It's just in you. You're a benefit to everyone, everywhere you go. You made great toys, you'll make great rides, and the circumstances under which everything started getting fucky weren't under your control. You were fine. You are fine. And I…" Pepper swallowed her words. "I've known people who have done much, much worse, and in full control of their mental faculties. You're nowhere near them, Brian. You're much better than that."
Brainy didn't respond, but was shaking. He was leaning on his elbows now, and the flashlight had fallen to the floor, uncooperatively illuminating a small section of shelf where Brainy kept his shoes.
"You care, you mean well, and you help people. Whenever you can, you help people. Not even okay people do that. That's a good guy move. You're the good guy."
"I-I'm th-h-e bad gu-uy…"
"You are the good guy. You came into my life, cared even though I pushed you away, like I sometimes do with people, and then you built me a house, gave me books to read, gave me mobility and a sense of freedom, and then you gave me a body. A real, actual body, and I still can't believe it. You made me feel. Sure, like, feel things, emotionally, positively, for which it had been a while, but you made me… feel, actually feel things." Pepper wrapped her arms around Brainy's midriff, to which Brainy flinched. "Damn it, look what you've done. Now we're both crying. Nice going."
Brainy hiccuped what could have been a sunken laugh.
After about three minutes of Pepper holding Brainy, he finally began to stop shaking. It was more akin to shuddering, at this point. Every once in a while, Brainy would let out a gasp for air, and then shudder, and then he'd stop shaking for a little bit. This lasted until the flashlight turned off on its own, as Brainy had built in an automatic timer for it as long as no one was holding it. He had a knack for the small things in products.
"You shouldn't trust me."
"I trust you."
"I'm not worth trusting."
Pepper only gave him a squeeze.
"I trust you."

Another location was closing. This time the role of janitor was shared between people as it had always been, so Brainy was helping pack up the haunted house. He was precariously leaning over the edge of the roof to unscrew some of the windows that were unreachable from the inside. Pepper had been pulled aside by a very excited Lolly earlier, so Brainy was left with the same crew who had helped him put the house up in the first place. Dr. Tinkles was one of them, and he had given him a new bottle of pills early that morning. Brainy was still nervous about his next interactions with Icky and Manny, but Pepper had consoled him well enough to let him push the thoughts aside for the moment.
Laying down on metal in the direct heat of the sun was making Brainy sluggish and sweaty. The noise of the Circus was like a bomb continuously going off. Voices, power tools, metal and wooden clanking, the engines of the trailers driving around and picking materials up… animal grunts from the petting zoo, not to mention some elephant noises from the pens where they keep their non-humanoid performers. It had started early that morning and had been going for two hours by now.
It reminded Brainy of the reorganization of Wonder Tower. The Candy Catalysts' big boom in workers required more office space, and, unlike how some people think, extradimensional space doesn't just pop out of thin air. It's especially difficult — not to mention dangerous — to put extradimensional space inside of extradimensional spaces, like Wonder World!™. People weren't allowed to know where Wonder World!™ really was on Earth, but it was a poorly kept secret that Wonder World!™ wasn't in its own dimension. If Wonder World!™ were to entirely relocate, perhaps a whole dimension would have been made for it, but too much time and effort had been put into the current location. It would have to be an emergency for Wonder World!™ to try and do something as cataclysmic as relocate, and it would take magic and Wonder that even Wonder World!™ wasn't capable of to make a space into its own dimension.
And that's why the Candy Catalysts' offices had to be built as a new addition to Wonder Tower, and the logistics of making all that happen required help beyond just the Builder Bullies' abilities. Brainy remembered having to share the Toy Tinker offices with some Candy Catalysts, the constant in and out of Bullies, and the interminable sounds of those who were working away at expanding the Tower just next door. It's now become a staple of the Wonder World!™ skyline to include the small bump on the side of Wonder Tower that is the Candy Catalyst offices. Some less-than-nice people called it the "Candy Catalyst Cyst". Brainy didn't much appreciate that name. He knew some people who worked there, and that was just disrespectful.
"Hey!"
Brainy perked up. In the crowd, at the edge of the clearing made for Pepper's House of Mirrors, Brainy spotted the violet highlights and black hair that marked an inbound Icky. Several steps behind her strode the suited up Manny, walking at a notably slower pace. Brainy tossed the screwdriver and screws he was holding into a small plastic bin that was at risk of melting on the searing metal roof. Brainy then clambered onto the ladder to get down to ground level. Brushing some of the dust off himself, Brainy made eye contact with a Ringmaster whose steps were large and eyes were glowing bright enough to be noticed even in daylight.
"Uh… morning, Icky, how may I help you?"
"Morning, Brainy."
Brainy's eyes widened, jaw dropped, and heart skipped a beat.
"B-Brainy? Gah!"
Icky picked Brainy up by the throat and pushed him against the hot shell of Pepper's House of Mirrors. Brainy kicked and flailed, attempting to choke out something, anything, but was finding himself unable to breathe.
"Your first mistake was kidnapping kids."
Brainy ground his teeth, and intermittently opened and closed his mouth.
"Your second mistake was killing them!"
Icky slammed Brainy's head through a protruding steel bar.
"And your third mistake was choosing to hide your pedophilic, creepy ass in the safe haven of the Circus!"
Icky kicked Brainy so hard in the stomach that he felt like vomiting, but the bile couldn't come up through his throat due to how hard Icky was squeezing it.
Through his slowly fading vision, Brainy could make out Manny calmly walking into view.
"I had high hopes for you, Brian. This is disappointing, to say the least."
And then it was all black.
"Great," thought Brainy to himself. "So this is how I go. Plan B failed. And I don't have another body — I spent all the time that I could have spent making a third body making Pepper one. So that's off the table. And my vision's already gone, so I only have a couple more fleeting seconds of consciousness left in me anyways. This'll be interesting. Time to die for real! Yay…
"Well, let's look on the bright side.
"I probably deserve this.
"No, more than probably. I definitely deserve this. This is fully deserved. I'd love to say that I died without regrets, but there were many regrets. Many.
"One, should have handled the Polly situation better.
"Two, should have taken my meds.
"Three, dear lord I shouldn't have done anything I did past not taking my meds.
"And four, they're right. I shouldn't have tried to hide my fugitive self in their Circus. That was putting them in undue danger.
"But hey! There are things I liked about my life. Let's see… all my toys. I wonder if Jelly Whale Emperor ever got made. If it wasn't finished before I died, it probably won't have been finished. Not if Wondertainment figured out what happened to me. Or what I did. They wouldn't honor someone as disgusting as me by making my toy design after my supposed death. They're classier than that.
"I miss 3T.
"I miss Judy.
"I'm gonna miss Pepper. I really liked her. Plus, she was pretty cute. I'm pretty sure I'm pretty cute too. Ahh, I'm gonna miss doing my facepaint. That made me feel really cute. And dressing up in my purple and tiger striped suit! That felt great.
"But I get it. I did horrible things. I did horrible things most people would not do, for certain. I hurt people who I haven't even met because I was thinking only about myself. So I deserve this. Sweet release, take me away…"
…
"Why haven't I died yet?"
…
"Oh don't friggin' kid me like this. Summon lollipop."
…
"Play my favorite song?"
…
"Okay, so, not in my headspace? Come on! I can't always cheat death! What's going on?"
Sounding almost like whispers, somewhere in the distance, "why isn't he dead yet?"
And somewhere else, even further, a voice like Tinkles rung, "it must be the emergency clown impulse suppressant! it's making him more clown-like, and thus stronger!"
"More Clown-like?"
"oh fine, i'll just snap his neck."
"Stronger?"
"here goes nothing."
"Really?"
"and a 1, and a 2, and a 3…"
"Oh, this is just ridiculous."
Brainy's eyes shot open to see Icky still seething with her hands around Brainy's neck. But this time, Brainy had a plan. Brainy grabbed the steel pipe from before, wrenched it out of the side of the haunted house, and rammed it into Icky's ribs. Icky sputtered as the air was knocked out of her lungs. Brainy gasped as the grip on his neck was loosened and fell to the ground. But Icky wasn't out for long.
Brainy rolled out of the way of a dirt flinging punch, and jumped to his feet. Brainy began instinctively to sprint, but was met with a small crowd of Circus Freaks who pushed him back into the ring with Icky. With stunning fear, Brainy realized that they had been surrounded, and he was stuck with the crazed Clown leader. Heh, Ringmaster. He was stuck in a ring of people with the Ringmaster. Brainy thought that was funny.
But he was brought back to reality by a foot to his face.
Brainy stumbled back into the crowd, who once again pushed him towards Icky, who landed a punch straight to his groin.
"Just fucking die already!"
Icky reeled back, practically winding up her fist for a finishing blow on Brainy when —
Tink
Icky blinked thrice, rubbed her head, and almost lost her balance. "Wha… hu, what did…?"
"Brian!!"
A Pepper rushed out of the crowd, carrying Brainy's prototype Silly Sling — a little something he was working on, which was sure to make any meany more lighthearted and fun. However, in its unfinished state, it seemed to only leave people dazed and confused. Lucky coincidence? No matter, Pepper pulled Brainy to his feet, and an awestruck crowd barely even moved.
"Brian, come on, get to it! We haven't got all day!" Pepper slapped him hard across the cheek. "This thing doesn't last long, come on!"
Brainy shook himself conscious. Pepper took him by the hand, and they ran in the direction that Pepper came in.
Manny only looked at the immobile crowd in disbelief.
"Really? Just going to stand there?"
The Freaks exchanged glances with each other. No, they weren't just going to stand there. A loud "raaah!" absorbed the airspace, and soon a mob of Clowns, Freaks, and even some animals were chasing after the pair of wrongdoers.
"Where are we going, Pepper?!"
"I don't know! I hadn't thought this far!! Where should we go?"
"BRAINY!!"
Somewhere behind the crowd the chilling scream of Icky reached the frantic fugitives. Rounding corners, passing tents, passing the bewildered looks of those who were still doing their jobs and hadn't witnessed the scene in front of the haunted house, Brainy searched his head for a quick solution.
"Wonder World! Tee emm! I can open a Way!"
"Then what are you waiting for?! Do it!!"
"Clearance code four-six-two-oh,
Round and round and round we go —"
Pepper and Brainy could feel rocks reaching their backs.
"— A poem kept in utter secret
Shame on you if you should speak it —"
A gunshot rung from behind and the bullet stuck into a wooden pole on their left. Icky came into view from around a tent ahead, bolting straight towards them.
"— Wanting just to go away,
Open a Wonder World Way!"
Brainy and Pepper were surrounded in candy colored light before vanishing into glitter and confetti.
The crowd skid to a stop, and grunted in confusion and anger.
"Damn it!" Icky kicked at the sparkly spot that they had left.
Manny calmly strolled up towards the place where they had left, squatted down, and inspected. After rubbing away the pixie dust and knocking twice on the ground, he seemed satisfied. "Looks like they opened a Way and closed it just as quickly."
"Back to Wonder World?"
"Seems like it."
"Augh. Well, at least they aren't our problem anymore." Icky sighed deeply. "God… damn it. Alright everybody, back to work!"
The crowd moaned and slunk back to their respective jobs. That was guaranteed to be the most exciting thing that happened all day, and it lasted a little less than five minutes. Disappointing, really. But the Circus went back to its usual cycles. The next location was sure to be a big boon, anyways, so that would be a lively week.
"Alright, Manny, if you could procure the list?"
"I had it ready in preparation."
"Perfect."
Manny handed Icky a clipboard that contained a yellowed and torn piece of paper.

Enemies of Herman Fuller The Circus Of The Disquieting

P.T. Barnum Barnum & Bailey's Ringling Bros. Circus Defunct.
Her His Majesty's Royal Foundation for the Study of Curiosities and Phantasmagoria Absorbed into the modern Essie P.
The American Secure Containment Initiative See above.
Lord Theodore Thomas Blackwood.
Orville Reed Deceased.
The Essie P.
The Insurgent Sea.
Robert Ripley Deceased.
Magic Mobsters.
The Library Truce with them and the Serpent's Hand restored after Fuller's departure.
Orville Reed Junior Deceased.
The Axis Powers Technically defunct, but be wary of resurgent Nazism.
The Geo Sea.
The Groupie Soviet Essies, defunct.
The Islamic Union of Eastern Samothrace.
Jeffrey Hubble No, that was hilarious.
The City of Adytum. (Sarkics in general are to be regarded with suspicion)
Orville Reed the Third Deceased.
Davenport Chamber of Commerce.
The Public Domain Protection Service.
The You Eye You. (Technically never caused us any harm, but who knows, they might get lucky one day)
The Chattanooga Film Society.
☽☽☽ Initiative.
The Necromancer Barons of Undervast.
The Underground House of Habsburg.
The Olive Oil Merchant in Alagadda.
The King of Hy-Brasil Deceased.
Doctor Wondertainment Lawsuit over Little Misters was settled out of court.
Those paragombolers with the stupid name. YWTGTHFT, wasn't it?
Extra-Universal Smoking Solutions.
Doctor Spanko.
Emcee D Truce with them restored after Fuller's departure.
The Black Rabbit Company. (You cannot blame me for trying to score with Japanese cyborg cat girl quintuplets)
The Ire Ess.
Orville Reed IV. (Oreos aren't Canadian! What is with this family?!)
Tim Wilson of Wilson's Wildlife Solutions. Really nice dude, differences set aside.
Garber Gore. (Al Gore is okay though)
Westboro Baptist Church.
Ruiz Duchamp.
Herman Fuller.
The Geo Pea.
The Tall Bees. Lolly, don't add entries please XOXO
dado. (Do not buy pills from this asshole!)
Wondertron 9000TM.
Gunmetal Gary.
Moon Champion, Champion of the Moon, Defender of Space Justice.

"Purple pen, please?"
Manny handed Icky her signature shade, and she made the following addition:

 47. Brainy Brian Harding.

In some hallway, in some building somewhere, a well dressed representative had just come back from their stay at the Circus to give a report to his bosses, and he brought with him some perplexing news.
Someone had made a body, and transferred a soul into it? That… was really interesting. In all of Victor Chan's career, he'd heard only a few things about vessel creation and soul arts. Everything pointed to them being extremely difficult, and extremely rare. Especially flesh vessel creation. Especially cosmetically pleasing flesh vessel creation.
Marshall, Carter & Dark were going to have to hear about this. Victor figured they'd be very excited to know.

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w/ Wondertainment Theme

w/o Wondertainment Theme


To Anoati, staying on a pedestal in a barren room with nothing but a past sacrifice was horrible. The room is made of a mockery of Anoa-stone which was simply crossing the line. His weekly meetings with Dr. Simons was all that was keeping him from expressing his godly ire upon those-who-make-weak-anoa-stone. Dr. Simons had told him last week that they would bring to him a collection humorous stories. He could hear footsteps a distance away, the break of silence had the godly head wondering what these stories will be and more importantly what will be sacrificed to him this week. A section of the wall breaks away and folds inward into the room revealing a doctor in its wake.
"Hello, Anoati." Dr. Simons said.
"Dr. Simons!" The god bellowed, "Have you brought these stories you have told me about!"
"Yes, I have it right here." The scientist replied calmly, fishing out a small book from a pocket on their lab coat.
"Yes! I can not wai-" The god head was rudely interrupted by a blaring sound seemingly coming from everywhere that was saying something, the meaning of which was lost on the talking head.
"How dare you interrupt the divine Anoati! Dr. Simons what is so important of this 'breach' to interrupt our conversation!?" The clay head questioned. Dr. Simons, alarmed by the alarm had dropped the book, "I apologize Anoati, but I must be going." The doctor spoke quickly as they left, the door folding back into its previous place in the wall.
"Wait, Simons!" The god belted out, but it was too late, they were gone from the room leaving behind only a book. "I suppose Dr. Simons wouldn't mind if I read some stories myself!" The bodyless god yelled to no-one in particular.
As Anoati levitated the book to him he found he could hardly wait for what the doctor had originally planned. As the god read the first story he saw in the book his ecstasy gradually turned into disappointment. "Perhaps it was well that Dr. Simons be drawn off from this book!" The divine rock declared.
"Yeesh, I didn't expect my first reader to be such a critic." A sourceless voice intoned.
"Intruder! Leave now or face my divine wrath!" Anoati shouted at nothing.
"I should be the angry one here buddy, do you know how much effort I put into that book? Look it's crying!" The voice said defensively.
The god paid no attention to the books emotional state, rather focusing on the invisible invader, "I am no buddy of yours, heretic! State your name!"
"Ow, hitting where it hurts. I'm not really participating in the name game, but you can call me Jay." The voice mused.
"I shall not honor you by calling you by your name! Are you responsible for this breach that called Dr. Simons away!"
"Breach? Oh god, we're in the foundation, aren't we? I finally get my book out and the first place I go is the foundation," The voice sighed, "What do they have you in here for?"
"I am Anoati, the god of Anoa-stone!" The god of Anoa-stone yelled.
"Well gee, my first god. Do you do heaven or reincarnation, wait, what about a breach?"
As the two squabbled they had managed to ignore a group of toy ducks that had managed to open the cell door. They had been continued to be ignored until one of the ducks, adorned with blast armor, thought it would be great for the conversation if he started throwing cartoony sticks of dynamite. "Hahahahahaha! Boom! Look, Boss!"
The Boss standing only a few inches away to the screaming duck with an annoyed look on nearly expressionless face "Blasty, quit with da bombs we need to find da treasure, den you can blow dis cell to the heavens." Blasty, heartbroken by the exchange walked away before instantly returning to his rampage. "There's supposed to be a gahd in dis room, he must be hiding hid treasure in dis ugly head." muttered a duck wearing a pinstripe suit.
The voice, awestruck with the turn of events looked with awe as the ducks eventually found themselves going towards his book, maybe they'll appreciate the jokes this god disregarded with disgust. Instead, it became further distraught when one of the ducks peered into the book closed it and then threw a bomb at it, casually destroying it without a hint of remorse. "What the hell you loon, I get not liking it, but that went too far, man! I'll have you know I have connections to god." the voice told the toy.
"Silence!" the head shouted to all who were listening, "I shall get rid of you, a prison Anoa-stone will do nicely."
"Noah? Who is dat? Does he got the trea-" The Boss said before being mildly inconvenienced by suddenly being transformed into iron.
"Take that intruder!" A thundering voice thundered. "Who's next!"
"Hey, Boss can you get up, this head g-" A larger more menacing duck was saying before being transformed himself into the iron-like Anoa-stone.
" D-don't worry Boss I'll help," The armored duck falsely claimed before being turned mid-toss.
The pinstripe duck, the one who figured out what was going on by the time boss froze was already trying to leave, however, they were too late and was frozen without a word. The last duck already realized what was happening popped a cigarette in their mouth before joining their team in the rubber duck afterlife. "Christ, god I know I got a little peeved back there but that's a bit overstepping it." The voice stated somberly, "So where does that leave us?"
"Leave or I will force you out!" Anoati yelled at the voice in his head.
"The only way for me to get out is if you take yourself out."
"So be it!" The head said loudly, rising the corpse of a long-dead pig above him.
"Okay, this is just some misunderstanding, so do-", a loud crash and then nothing else. The voice left with one final thought, "I hope the other buyers are more reasonable."

Look at DrDromeus' submission here!


Like many others that day, Yulian Fyodorov was greeted one early August morning to a fully-armed unit of Task Force Officers, assault rifles in hand, standing in front of his office building's entrance. Mimeographed memorandums from the Directorate had been plastered on the doorway from top to bottom, and a throng of employees had crowded the entrance to read the order for themselves.
But even from this distance, Yulian knew what the memorandum was going to say.
He had seen the signs: the inflation rates, the protests, the coup attempt. The Soviet Union was failing, and everyone in the office knew it was only a matter of time before a shake-up from the top would put them all out of a job.
But even for bureaucrats of the GRU 'P' Division, it just happened a little sooner than anyone had expected.

Отдел "Психотроника"
Гла́вное Разве́дывательное Управле́ние
___

26 AUGUST 1991
MEMORANDUM NO. 1991 - 561
TO : All Branch Offices and Liason Offices of the GRU, Psychotronics Division not within the city limits of Moscow or Saint Petersburg
APPROVED : Yevgeny Rostislavin, Executive Director … … … …
SUBJECT : SUSPENSION ORDER. PROTOCOL КУЧА ГОВНА INITIATED.

In light of the precarious nature of recent events, please be informed that EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, operations of all branch offices and agencies stipulated above are hereby SUSPENDED INDEFINITELY.
Protocol Куча Говна is to be strictly followed by all agents and employees affected. All records and data, in whatever form maintained, are to be DESTROYED without exception. Breach of Protocol by any agent or employee shall be considered grounds for IMMEDIATE EXECUTION.
All suspended GRU 'P' offices currently in possession of Объекты must relinquish any and all Объекты to designated Mobile Taskforce personnel without delay.
Failure to relinquish any and all Объекты shall be considered as an act of SEDITION, which shall be considered grounds for IMMEDIATE EXECUTION.

С наилучшими пожеланиями,
GRU - Central Directorate

Now Yulian Fyodorov was here, folding a purple origami frog on the bar counter a few minutes past 10. The bar was empty at this hour; in another hour, the regulars would arrive to nurse their 3 a.m. hangovers. The glasses had been shined, and there was enough watered-down1 liquor to last the next three shifts. With nothing else to do, Yulian resorted to origami frogs.
He sighed and smiled softly as he tucked the frog's little legs into place. Sasha was always so quick with her hands. If she was here, she'd have finished three by now.
The bar door clinked open, and Yulian hid the frog behind the bar. A paunchy man in a large fur coat shuffled his way towards the counter and lifted himself onto a barstool.
"Zubrowka, double," gruffed the fur-coat man.
"We have black and gold."
"Black," the man replied, not inamiably.
Yulian nodded and turned to retrieve the bottle of bison-grass vodka. His voice was… familiar. But then again, he also smelled like a morning cigarette, and don't all smokers sort of sound the same after a certain age, anyway? Letting the thought pass, Yulian took a tall shot glass from the side and poured his customer a double. An obligatory pickle on a small plate quickly followed.
"Nazdarovje,"2 murmured the fur-coat man to himself, knocking his drink back, and following it immediately with a bite of the pickle.
"Another," he spoke again, "but a single this time. And then the bill."
Yulian nodded and turned to retrieve the bottle a second time. But this time a cold sweat had begun to moisten his palms. There was no mistaking it - his body already knew what his mind had allowed to pass. This was a man he knew much about, but not a man he was supposed to remember.
In sudden recollection, his lips began to move, and before he could stop himself -
"You are Ivan Pasternak."
click
The unmistakable sound of a pistol hammer locked into place a mere meter behind Yulian's head.

"Your hands. Put them up. Don't turn around." The fur-coat man's intense voice shook the glasses in the bar.
Fool! Idiot! Why did you speak? You've doomed yourself! Yulian's eyes drifted in and out of focus, his cold sweat now dripping down the neck of Zubrowka in his hand. His shaky hands slowly rose above his head, bottle still in hand.
"Move, and I will kill you. Say anything wrong, and I will fucking kill you. Understand?"
A quivering "Yes, of course," fell from Yulian's lips. This was indeed Ivan Pasternak, and Yulian knew that this burly, gnarled old man wasn't dicking around.
"You will tell me how you know that name."
Yulian took a deep breath as his eyes glazed over in pure and unadulterated recollection of facts and events.
"My name is Yulian Fyodorovich Fyodorov. I was assigned as a class II bureaucrat to the Lviv Branch Office of Acquisitions in 1989 and worked there until the office was raided two years ago."
Pasternak was silent.
"I had level 1 security clearance due to the nature of my work, and that, among other things, meant I knew who you were." Yulian gulped. His words had been shaky and bumbling, perhaps even a little suspicious. The bottle of Zubrowka was getting heavy, suspended above his head.
"Okay. Why shouldn't I kill you." said Pasternak. "And put that damn bottle down. Slowly."
Yulian put the damn bottle down. Slowly.
"Speak."
Yuli's thoughts were flying fast in his head. I need something unbreakably true, though I never spoke once to him my whole life. It was almost worse, having said what he said. Too much knowledge to be innocent, too little knowledge to prove his loyalties. He could easily be working for the UIU, or those Повстанцы Хаоса3 who were often talked about in hushed tones, for all Pasternak knew.
If he died today in this bar, it was entirely his own fault.
And then it hit him, the perfect story that would jog Pasternak's memory. But wasn't there anything else? Something more sensible, something less shameful?
"I'm waiting," Pasternak growled again.
"There was a time…"
"Yes…?"
"But I cannot say it… Please just let me…" Yulian groveled.
An odd, almost inaudible sound broke the silence. It was almost a shot from a handgun, but much, much quieter. This coincided with the sound of shattering, pelting Yuli's side with small shards of glass and Zubrowka. Although the sound of the gun was only barely heard, the heat coming off of the newly-fired gun was intense, pouring deep into Yulian's back as if it was being held there.
"I'm sorry for this, Federov."
"Okay okay okay, please listen. There was this time in the… bathroom."
More silence. Yuli could feel Pasternak's frown burning a hole in the back of his head.
"You must be shitting me," Pasternak snarled.
"And I was taking a piss in the urinal," Yulian continued, "the only urinal in the second-floor bathroom that would ever flush properly, and you entered and took up the urinal next to me. And then I caught my dick in the zipper."4
Pasternak did not reply for a second. "…What?"
"I howled very loudly, and you asked me what was wrong. And I told you it was nothing because you were respected in the office and your name was on every paper I filed and I didn't want to show you something so pitiful. But you knew exactly what happened and laughed yourself silly." Yulian's cheeks were beginning to grow a little red, though the adrenaline of the gunshot may also have been part of it.
"And then you continued to laugh and, without helping me, you finished your business and laughed all the way to the bathroom door. And I know you told other people because for three weeks, I was Penis-in-Zipper man, and my office-mates never looked at me the same again."
Pasternak was silent.
"What, is that enough? If you do not remember that, then kill me now because there is nothing else for me to tell you." Yulian's lip quivered with every word. "I was…er, just…"
Yulian's rant was cut off shortly by a quiet, stifled laughter.
"Uh…"
Which blew up into loud, raucous laughter.
"Oh, good God, it's you! Of course it's you, Penis-in-Zipper man!" Ivan Pasternak put his still-red-hot silent gun on the bar, and the counter smouldered a little. He was back to sitting on the barstool, laughing wildly.
Yulian began to put his hands down very slowly.
Pasternak saw this. "Come now, comrade, no need for shyness! You have convinced me. I will do you no harm." He gestured to Yulian with his hand.
"Put down your hands! Come now boy, I'm very sorry for our misunderstanding. Let us drink."
Yulian turned around. A broad, rugged smile bridged Pasternak's grizzly face from one ear to another. Yulian wiped a drop of sweat from his temple.
"I can't believe it's you, Penis-in-Zipper man! How did you survive the fall-out?" He pushed his shot-glass toward Yulian, as if he were to fill it up like nothing happened. "Oh, and Zubrowka again."
"You shot the last bottle of black. And how come I didn't hear that gun?"
Pasternak's nose scrunched up in disgust. "Bah! I knew I would regret shooting the bottle. Too damn flashy. And this -" he picked up the gun that had now returned to the color of gun metal, "- this converts acoustic energy into heat energy. Almost soundless, but it gets too hot to touch after the third shot, even with gloves as thick as mine."
Yuli's eyes widened a little. This man, who was a trigger away from blowing his head off a moment ago, now spoke candidly as though they were old friends.
The more Yulian thought about it, though, the more he recalled Pasternak's rumoured antics in and out of the office.
It wasn't very surprising, after all.

"Amazing. Is this…" Yulian kept his voice down. "…an 'объект'?"
"No, no, not at all. Russian material scientists worked this technology out a decade ago." Pasternak looked around with a mischievous, surreptitious scan of the entire bar, like an old storyteller looking for монстры hiding in the corners.
"But let me show you something else."
"Fine," Yulian agreed, knowing Pasternak could still blow off his head at anytime.
Pasternak grinned, taking a small box out of his coat pocket. Inside was an empty monogrammed shot glass. Cyrillic letters spelled out "ИАП" in long Russian cursive.
"Go ahead, slam it on the bar counter as if you just took a shot. And don't fucking break it," Ivan directed.
Yulian slammed the shot glass down upon the bar counter. Instantaneously, the shot glass was full to the brim with a clear liquid.
"Nazdarovje!" Pasternak called out.
The shot went down straight. It was a very strong vodka, the kind that could peel paint off of walls. Yulian coughed a little, and slammed the shot down upon the counter. Once again, the glass was full to the brim with vodka.
"Mother of God." Yulian exclaimed, his eyes still watering a little bit.
"Indeed," Pasternak gloated. "This glass was very hard to come by, and I have no idea how many of these are still in existence. They're probably all gone by now, though." Pasternak looked down at the bar for a second, thinking over something.
"Anyway," he continued. "This is by no means an 'объект'5 either. It's more of a novelty. An 'аномалия,'6 if you will."
Pasternak took the shot now held by the glass with a sigh, leaving a drop of liquor in the very bottom. "If only it would produce fine alcohol, not this Polish schlock. Pah!"
His thick fur gloves carefully placed the glass in the box, closed the lid, and slid it back into his coat pocket.
"Now that we've shared a drink, what do I call you, Penis-in-Zipper man?"
"Call me Yulian. Please do not call me Penis-in-Zipper man again."
"Fair enough. I've told that story at many bars just like this one, so I'll give it some rest… Yulian." Pasternak smiled.
"Ugh. But thank you."

"So…" Pasternak said after a short pause. "It is time for us to go. Come on, we'll grab your important belongings and be out of this town quickly."
"Wait… what? What do you mean, 'us'?" Yuli stammered.
Ivan laughed, but without mirth. "You don't know? We're dead men if we stay here," he said, pulling a cigarette out of his coat.
Yulian was shocked. "What!? Did you lead them here or something? Why am I suddenly involved?"
The cigarette was lit, and Pasternak blew out a cloud of smoke. "Why, did you think that the dissolution of Отдел "Психотроника"7 meant we were free? No! They're always watching."
"They want me, and they want you." he said, taking another drag.
"This is impossible," Yuli spoke. "Surely this is all because of you, Ivan Alexeyevich Pasternak," he said in a respectful manner.
"Sadly, it is not. They've been restructuring the whole system. Redrawing political lines between the Directorate and the world. They've grown drunk with the new powers granted to them in this time of crisis. Now they are tying up loose ends. And you and I, Yulian…" putting out his cigarette on the bar, "…are the loose ends."
Yuli's stomach sank deeply. He thought back to the odd people who would stand around his apartment block at night. The cars that seemed to come and go whenever he had an errand in the town.
"Okay, Pasternak. l believe you. What do I do?"
"We are getting your essentials from your apartment, and we are getting out of here. If we survive that," Pasternak smiled. "then we are going to be in business together."
Federov raised his eyebrows. "We? Business? Together…?"
"Of course!" Pasternak exclaimed. "After all, you know something about me you're not supposed to know. Either you work with me…" Ivan picked up the gun from the bar. "…Or I kill you, here and now." Ivan slipped the gun into his thick coat pocket.
"Alright alright, I understand. Just… what kind of business is this?"
Ivan Pasternak's smile grew large and deep, and his eyes began to sparkle.
"Isn't it obvious?" Ivan chuckled. "We're going to rebuild the GRU-P."

Yuli and Ivan Go On An Adventure.
Poputchik.
« Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 - Avos' »

Footnotes
1. That is to say, adequately watered-down, but not disrespectfully so. It's one thing to make a man pay for his own slow death, and another to cheat him out of it.
2. 'Cheers'; literally, 'For health!' It should be noted that while the medical benefits of straight vodka are still up for debate in the West, there are no such misgivings in the Eastern bloc.
3. Povstantsi Khaosa; Literal trans. rebels of Chaos.
4. It should be noted that Soviet-era trouser zippers were designed to survive atomic blasts at two hundred paces from impact. The next time the reader has his own johnson caught in the barn door, consider the many unfortunate Eastern Europeans who have caught their polovoy schlen between sliding iron curtains.
5. Object.
6. Anomaly.
7. Pronounced Otdel Psykhotronika. Speak it like true comrade.


Those Twisted Pines Hub » Overheard At Deer

messiah impersonator
⁂spacejamarine

#OverheardAtDeer I tried to brew a love potion but i just created heartbreak-flavored LaCroix

ECHOES 12
HUMS 20

7:33 PM - 2 December 2021

SKELETON QUEEN
⁂necromanster

#OverheardAtDeer “i asked the campus oracle what my grades looked like and it said I should take up magic the gathering instead of magic the major”

ECHOES 2
HUMS 10

11:02 PM - 2 December 2021

Maxwell's Angel
⁂anarcolumnist

#OverheardAtDeer "we tried to conjure a djinn that would brew beer and it just handed us a smooth, hoppy lacroix"

ECHOES 22
HUMS 101

1:47 AM - 3 December 2021

Swedish Lighthouse Mafia
⁂ElectroDanceMagic

i was playing a set at #Deer & all my ⁂SorcerEnergy turned into peach lacroix wtf???

ECHOES 5
HUMS 17

2:09 AM - 3 December 2021

SorcerEnergy Beverages
⁂SorcerEnergy

⁂ElectroDanceMagic That sucks! Bring some of the transformed cans to our downtown HQ and we'll give you a replacement supply!

ECHOES 19
HUMS 32

9:07 AM - 3 December 2021

Legolass Queenqueef
⁂elvendragqueen

“really i'm thankful for the fae genocide b/c without it we would never have met" #OverheardAtDeer #WorstDates #FaeProblems #MyGrandparentsAreDead

ECHOES 27
HUMS 163

11:30 AM - 3 December 2021

Liberté Egalité Thaumatologé
⁂gnosisyphus

The soda foundains in the cafeteria only dispense LaCroix now, I think campus has been cursed

ECHOES 23
HUMS 69

12:17 PM - 4 December 2021

TripleCrowley
⁂tranart

⁂gnosisyphus #LaCurse

ECHOES 137
HUMS 592

12:36 PM - 4 December 2021

Northweast Antifa
⁂Ann3_Tifa

“the worst date I ever went on was with a gorgon-chaser who said that looking into my eyes made him rock hard” #OverheardAtDeer

ECHOES 0
HUMS 7

4:01 PM - 4 December 2021

double dee derby deviant
⁂princex_leah

#OverheardAtDeer is statistics the dark souls of divination?

ECHOES 5
HUMS 37

9:51 PM - 4 December 2021

Deer College Odyssey
⁂BuckStopsHere

#LaCurse Update - we found an ancient Indian burial ground underneath the cafeteria, someone dug up all the bodies and replaced them with cans of LaCroix

ECHOES 43
HUMS 264

10:24 AM - 5 December 2021

Jean Cena
⁂lesbian_john_cena

⁂BuckStopsHere Why would there be a native american burial ground under the caf??? i tbhought threeports was only like 200 years old??? #LaCurse

ECHOES 9
HUMS 33

10:42 AM - 5 December 2021

Deer College Odyssey
⁂BuckStopsHere

⁂lesbian_john_cena if we meant Native American, we would've said Native American. we meant Indian.

ECHOES 4
HUMS 13

11:07 AM - 5 December 2021

Darwesh Singh
⁂singh_oh_muse

⁂BuckStopsHere actually speaking as an Indian from India we usually cremate our dead rather than burying them

ECHOES 1
HUMS 26

11:41 AM - 5 December 2021

Deer College Odyssey
⁂BuckStopsHere

⁂singh_oh_muse Not that kind of Indian either.

ECHOES 46
HUMS 317

12:19 PM - 5 December 2021

Canyon House Is Real
⁂druidiocy

#LaCurse update - my roommate's neck turned 180 degrees - this is normal, her grandma on her mom's side is an owl - but then she started chanting a list of ingredients and vomiting peach-flavored LaCroix

ECHOES 10
HUMS 31

6:17 PM - 5 December 2021

Whine Mom
⁂dionysus_xvx

#OverheardAtDeer "my roommate got a pet poltergeist but had to exorcise it because it didn't have all its shots"

ECHOES 6
HUMS 16

8:02 PM - 5 December 2021

In Gematria 420 = Utopia
⁂ganjawarlord

#LaCurse the sauce in my kfc double down was replaced by bbq-flavored lacroix. it actually tastes better than a normal double down

ECHOES 13
HUMS 50

4:29 AM - 6 December 2021

Mailer-Daemonologist
⁂goto_aleph

the good news is that I finished my invisibility cloak. The bad news is that I can't find it anymore #OverheardAtDeer #WizardProblems

ECHOES 9
HUMS 35

8:43 AM - 6 December 2021

Deer College Odyssey
⁂BuckStopsHere

#LaCurse update - ⁂DeerCommunitySafety refuses to get involved, saying "the situation is being monitored" and "there is no current threat to any community member"

ECHOES 37
HUMS 183

10:10 AM - 6 December 2021

Mad Library Scientist
⁂wormwood-fun-dome

#OverheardAtDeer “pour one out for my homie up there.” “Sorry for your loss.” “Oh no he's not dead - his handwriting's so bad the rune he drew turned /him/ into a balloon instead of his /paper/. Thaum Department is still trying to get him down.”

ECHOES 7
HUMS 29

1:25 PM - 6 December 2021

Deer College Odyssey
⁂BuckStopsHere

#LaCurse We're free! The hex has been broken! maintenance refused to comment on the source or nature of the spell, but assures us that all is well.

ECHOES 151
HUMS 437

4:47 PM - 6 December 2021

Maxwell's Angel
⁂anarcolumnist

i wrote an article on #LaCurse for this Friday's edition of ⁂BuckStopsHere so y'all better not come up w a new crisis before then

ECHOES 38
HUMS 125

9:17 PM - 6 December 2021

Do Not Pass Pokémon Go™
⁂PsychickMewth

i was trying to celebrate the end of #LaCurse w a few br00skies but instead of PBR they're all filled w lime perrier, anyone know what's up?

ECHOES 35
HUMS 81

9:19 PM - 6 December 2021

Maxwell's Angel
⁂anarcolumnist

WHAT DID I JUST FUCKING SAY #PerrierCurse

ECHOES 29
HUMS 94

9:22 PM - 6 December 2021

Cronus Elk
⁂fellowdegenerates

#OverheardAtDeer “do you think I'm allowed to say “oh me” now that I've finished intro to applied theology” (the answer is yes, btw)

ECHOES 22
HUMS 67

12:09 AM - 7 December 2021

Jean Cena
⁂lesbian_john_cena

#LaCurse #PerrierCurse hey i'm a freshman, is this sort of thing normal? will this jsut keep happening w different drinks?

ECHOES 6
HUMS 20

12:47 AM - 7 December 2021

Legolass Queenqueef
⁂elvendragqueen

⁂lesbian_john_cena my sophomore year it was some Mongolian energy drink that i think was made of fermented horse milk? we're getting lucky this year

ECHOES 2
HUMS 11

1:14 AM - 7 December 2021


The apartment complex had too many entrances for Nathan's taste, but that was the cost of doing business in this case. There was also the matter of it being one-thirty on a Thursday night, and in the middle of a gated community, and over ninety degrees outside. The humidity slammed into him the moment he stepped off the plane at DFW airport, and it hadn't let up.
NEXT TIME SOMEONE HIRES US TO GO TO TEXAS, WE'RE OUTSOURCING, he texted the Director.
The computer is in the bedroom. The Director probably wasn't going to respond to him, so Nathan didn't press the issue. There are two doors to the main building, but you'll have an easier time getting in through the balcony. Kid's got two additional deadbolts on the front door, but his balcony locks with a switch on the inside.
THAT SOUNDS EASY, Nathan answered, and then he remembered that his sarcasm wouldn't translate so well through his neural link to the Director. SOUNDS LIKE A TRAP.
That's why you're going to be very careful when you pick the lock, the Director reminded Nathan as he scaled the fire escape next to the target's apartment. Keep an eye out for any extra security. Mr. Snyder invented a computer worm that hacks brains. Yours should be pretty safe from it, but it might not be the only thing in his arsenal.
ROGER, Nathan answered. He swung his legs over the balcony railing and onto the wooden planks outside his quarry's one-bedroom. The insulated boots he wore kept his footsteps whisper quiet, and his reflective suit was treated with an MRF weave, keeping him off radar and optoelectronics. Special ocular implants - a new toy - would filter out any info- or cognitohazardous material that came his way.
Nathan was well aware of how overqualified he was to be breaking into a twenty-something's suburban apartment. When he combined that with how much he was being paid to do this, something didn't add up.
He knelt down in front of the balcony door and began to jimmy the lock open with his knife. He noticed what appeared to be scratches from a set of keys on the lock, the kind that show up on the doorknobs of homeowners with a tendency to come home blind drunk. What were they doing on a balcony door that locked with a switch from the inside? How would one even lock themselves out on the balcony with this sort of lock, and why would it have deep, swirling gouges around the handle in mesmerizing patterns?
Something flashed in front of his vision. A notification from the phone in his brain had flagged and cleaned a cognitohazard. He blinked, and noticed his back was to the door. He had one foot on the railing of the balcony, and his body was pitched over it staring at the concrete below.
Dammit Nathan, respond!
I'M HERE, he texted back. DID YOU CATCH ALL THAT?
I did. I scanned and removed over fifty known auditory, visual, and olfactory cognitohazards when you got up on the balcony. By all accounts, you were in the clear. Nathan did not bother arguing with the Director over tampering with the implant's natural functions. Not only would it waste his time and annoy the pig, but he imagined that his current situation would be a lot worse if his brain was forced to deal with several of them at once, no matter how innocuous they were separately.
WELL APPARENTLY THERE WERE FIFTY-ONE, he replied. HOW DID HE MANAGE THAT?
Snyder's virus looks complex to a layman, but it relies on a very simple process, the Director explained. Nathan continued picking the lock, only half paying attention. It mass-produces cognitohazards, which most commonly present as images or symbols. Creating a memetic cognitohazard from a series of precise scratches would require time and effort but be theoretically possible.
Nathan finished popping the lock and slid the door back. The living room was fuzzy with the filtered content on the walls, like censorship in real life. Probably the Director's doing. He scanned the immediate area for threats, and slipped gingerly into the living room. The computer station was immaculate, with an impressive desktop tower next to a wall-mounted television, but it was the only thing in sight that was tolerable.
It was a pigsty. No fewer than three pizza boxes were piled on an armchair in the corner, old mail and newspapers littered the floor, and at least two of the bowls on the table still had food in them. How did people live like this? He shook his head and began stacking dishes, plates on bottom, bowls on top of them, silverware inside the bowls.
Nathan? Nathan, are you there? Goddammit. Give me a minute to run some more anti-cog protocols. Nathan tried to text back, but his brain was fully preoccupied with the armful of dirty dishes. He set them down gently in the sink, picked up a greenback sponge, and tried desperately to claw his way out of his own traitorous mind.
“You know, I had been meaning to get around to that.”
Nathan's body screamed for him to stop scrubbing but his brain wouldn't listen. He squirted a softball-sized lump of detergent into the top bowl and turned the hot water knob as far as it would go. Whoever the voice belonged to, they were close by, just out of arm's reach.
“How did you even get in here? You should have gone insane about ten seconds after deciding to pick my locks. What the hell is your CRV anyway, like a million? Is it over nine thousand?”
Nathan's lungs screamed with a response they were unable to give. He couldn't make his limbs do anything but run the greenback over this kid's dirty plate, over and over and over and over.
“Crap, I forgot,” said the voice. “These ones are all previous gen. Shit. Keep washing, and don't forget to rinse. I'll be with you in a sec.” Meanwhile, Nathan's muscles burned from the effort of fighting the compulsion.
I'm running a full cerebral diagnostic, came the Director's voice. I'm going to keep talking to you too. It's a .2% increase in the disruption of the meme's effect, but anything to get you back on your feet quicker.
HE'S MAKING ME WASH HIS DISHES.
Yes, well, that was unexpected, replied the Director. Welcome back, by the way.
YOU HAD ME FLY DOWN TO TEXAS TO WASH SOME COLLEGE STUDENT'S DISHES.
“Will you two kindly shut up? I'm trying to work.” The voice was further away, probably in the living room.
HE CAN HEAR US TOO?
“I'm in yer base, destroyin' yer mind,” he said. The beeping of a PIN pad was muffled by the wall between the two Nathans. “You really think I can't hear you talking to your imaginary boyfriend?”
Setting down the clean plate, ignoring his scalding hands, Nathan struggled to pull his mind away from his task. He succeeded in putting the greenback into the stack of bowls. His muscles ached as they shifted his hands away from the pile of dishes and he turned his body away from the sink.
He rounded the corner into the living room, but the kid was nowhere in sight. The door was wide open, the computer was gone, but the television began to flash with dozens if not hundreds of images before Nathan was able to turn his head.
He tried to raise his left arm and lower it at the same time. He tried to touch his nose and turn his head and cough. He tried to put his right arm in and shake it all about. He tried to literally put his foot up his own ass. While his enhanced neural network was able to catch up with and recognize each action, the simultaneous actions his body was trying to take pushed it into overload and he fell to the ground, writhing in agony.
His vision exploded with pinks and reds, the kind you see when you press too hard on your closed eyeballs. He could feel his limbs moving in a spastic, jerky dance as he convulsed on the floor of this tiny apartment.
You're having an intracerebral hemorrhage. You've been hit with forty-seven simultaneous cognitohazards and your brain is coping by having several aneurysms. The nanobots are doing their best to repair the damage, but you've got to stand up or else Snyder is going to get away.
Nathan propped himself up on one of his arms. He wasn't entirely sure which one it was. Possibly the left. The damage to his brain was beginning to take its toll, and the problem was further compounded by his neural interface autofiltering all the cognitohazards in the area. Everything was fuzzy or covered in that horrible visual noise that old analogue TVs got when they had problems picking up signals.
Nathan could smell television static, something he didn't even know was possible. It smelled acrid and vile, like someone had pissed acid on a car battery. There was something underneath it too, something sweet and sugary that made Nathan think of flies in a pitcher plant. He could smell it, taste it, and it was intoxicating.
The Director's voice throbbed in his head, rattling off all sorts of diagnostic information that he ignored. He shambled out the door and down the stairs, leaving the door ajar behind him on his way to Site-17. He didn't even see the GOC Strike Team that ambushed and subdued him.

Nathan Snyder's entire body was pulsing with adrenaline from behind the wheel of his rented Versa. He'd outsmarted a freaking robot assassin that had tried to kill him. The thing was probably still lying on the floor of that apartment having convulsions or something. The latest update to Neurocrack was an absolute nightmare.
His phone began to go off. He answered it, and a harsh, gravely voice came through his car's speakers.
"Recovery was a complete success. The funds have been deposited to your account as we discussed."
Snyder took a deep breath before responding. "Thank you ma'am." Wythers creeped him the hell out. He could never put his finger on why, but she sent a chill down his spine whenever he saw her number on the caller ID.
"The neural implant was unaffected, but that is expected," she went on. "You shouldn't be held responsible for subduing an AI in addition to his surrogate son."
"Maybe if he'd spanked the kid when he was little, Nathanbot would've had the discipline to fight the memes."
"It's fortunate for you that he didn't, then."
“What, don't you believe in spanking your kids?” Snyder chuckled at his joke, but the line was silent.
“You do not bring up my kids,” came the harsh reply. “Ever. Since you don't realize what you said, and you're several countries and an ocean away, I'll let it slide this time. Do not let it happen again. Are we clear?”
“Oh. Look, I'm sorry I-”
“Are. We. Clear.”
"We're clear, ma'am," Snyder replied. His face and cheeks reddened, and he reminded himself to be kinder to his GOC benefactor. He was being hunted by Foundation MTFs, Chaos Insurgency, probably other GOC operatives, and God only knows who else. His list of safe havens was getting shorter with each passing day.
"Good. How is Project Bastet progressing?"
"It's chugging along," Snyder answered. "You saw the results of the Venus Strain on that android or whatever he was."
"He wasn't an android," Wythers replied. "More of a clone. Sure, he was enhanced and upgraded to all hell and cost more than the GDP of some countries, but a clone is a clone."
"Okay, the clone," Snyder conceded. "Whatever he was, he took the olfactory memes hook line and sinker. I even snuck in some of the experimental gustatory ones. I'll bet you all the money you paid me that he was on his way to Site-17 when you guys nabbed him."
"I hope so," Wythers replied. "Then it means the project was a success. Are you ready for Phase Two?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Park the rental at the rendezvous point and dump the phone. Your contact will be there to pick you up shortly."
"And how do I know that you can' trust you?"
"You don't. But you'll do what I say regardless. I'll see you in the morning. Try and get some sleep. We'll need you in top form for the next phase of the project." She hung up the call.

Made for the Original Character Tournament. Be sure to check out the other entries featuring these players:
AFX Neuromancer's entry: TBA
Attila the Pun's entry: To Run Forever


Moonlight draped the pair upon the terrace overlooking the sea. Between them a set table, two candles flickering futile in the Paris night. Fine wine. Rare kobe ribeyes with truffle saffron sauce. Caviar. 300$ blue cheese.
And all set for them.
Nathan hadn't been on a vacation in a long time. The years went on, mission after mission, kill after kill. Identities came and went, targets ebbed and waned, wounds healed, grass grew, trees grew, kids grew. And he, a swimmer of the currents, was adrift in his world. He wanted agency. He wanted breaks. The Director argued that he didn't need breaks.
The Director knew a lot. But he knew nothing about the human soul.
No amount of technology in his body nor amount of drugs in his system could change the fact that Nathan was tired. He was tired, and he was desperate for the type of human bond that could only come from a lack of total and complete knowledge and transparency. And he was desperate for the whimsies.
The whimsies of the eyes. The whimsies of the hearts.
The whimsies in front of him, at this very moment.

"You know, Nathan. I'm enjoying my time here. I'm enjoying my time here with you."
"… Yeah?"
"… Yeah."
"I'm… glad to hear that. I'm glad we're enjoying our time."
"Yeah."
"Uh, unrelatedly, but. How about these chairs, huh? Uncomfortable as hell."
"Yeah."

Knife through butter.
 Butter put upon bread.
The candles burned down.
The wine flowed forth.

He sighed and looked into the moon.
Nathan was a romantic for sure. But he knew nothing about the human heart.
The finest food and drink money could buy. Calculated romantic music. An air of mystery and intrigue. And an attractive dinnerpartner. All these were in front of him. But none seemed to sate him. Perhaps he had to take matters into his own purview.
"Say, Nathan. I know what I saw in you, of course. But what caught your eye on me?"
Nathan looked up from his meal, looking across to his date.
"Well. I figured a man like you should already know his appeal, shouldn't you?"
"… I want to hear you say them, Nathan."
"Oh, oh. I see. Well… I'd say first and foremost your eyes."

Amber coronas
 upon eclipses
 and he,
 lost within them.

"After that… the way you carry yourself."

Featherlight
 Fall as grace
Stoneset
 Built as brick

He chuckled. Nathan chuckled.
"And finally… your feathers."

Feathery.

"Thank you, Nathan. I'm glad for your thoughts."
"I suppose I couldn't ask for yours in turn?"
"Ah, I would, but I should be going at this point."
He got up from his seat, slowly, carefully. He picked up his hat and jacket and started to walk away.
"Y-you're leaving already?"
Buck, a fair distance away, turned around to face Nathan.
"Ah, no. Not quite yet. I have time for a few… Well. I can make time for you."
"Didn't you say you should be going, though?"
"Yes."
"I…"
"Before I do, I'll leave you with two last questions."
"… Go ahead."
"Have you ever heard of something called the original character tournament?"
"I'm… afraid I haven't. Is it a writing contest of sorts?"
"Ah, I'm not quite sure. I heard of it from a friend. But, that's beyond the point."
"Very well. What's your second question?"

"Are you ready to die?"

Nathan sighed, picking up the fork and knife from the table. He sprung up from his chair, poised to go straight for the jugular, and
Click.

The grenade beneath his chair went off.
He went up in flames.
Flesh and clothes and furniture were covered in a film of napalm as the M308-1 detonated. Pain coursed throughout Nathan's body as he was being burnt to the bone, and then
Bang.
Buck fired a single shot from his revolver. Right through the brain stem, right through the back-up computer.
Nathan went limp. His burning corpse hitched on the terrace's guard rail before his center of mass shifted back and he went diving through the Paris night, down, down, into the sea.
The skyline was aflame.

And Buck wept.

This was written for the SCP Original Character Tournament. Be sure to also read The Kids With Guns series and its prequel by AFX Neuromancer.

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MZL-1730 - What Happened to Site-19?

▸ More by this Author ◂

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F.A.Q.

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BY ORDER OF THE OVERBOBBLE COUNCIL
The following file describes a Xerxes-Class humanoid entity receptacle, and is level 6/1730 classified. Viewer discretion is advised.
BY ORDER OF THE OVERBOBBLE COUNCIL
The following file describes a Xerxes-Class humanoid entity receptacle, and is level 6/1730 classified. Viewer discretion is advised.

Item#: 1730

Level2

Containment Class:
esoteric

Secondary Class:
REVENGEANCE

Disruption Class:
ekhi

Risk Class:
notice

link to memo

Aerial view of MZL-1730, "Site-19".

Man Zoo Specifications: MZL-1730 is located in the Upper Peninsula of the State of Michigan, USA. Due to the number of humanoid entities within MZL-1730, MZL Protocol Kaufmann-99 "All Hands On Deck" has been enacted, and all members of the Man Zoo League are ordered to report to MZL-1730 for assignment in managing the Man Zoo colloquially known as "Site-19".
Current senior staff of MZL-1730 is as follows:

Director: Dr. Ahngri Lizard, Ph.D.1

Assistant Director of Pain and Suffering: Dr. Scranton Oldman2

Assistant Director of Longstanding Grudges: Dr. Bihg Füt3

Assistant Director of Gaslighting: Dr. Lahng Eel4

Assistant Director of Reparations: Dr. Elias Shaw5

Assistant Directors of Task Forces: Agent Able and Agent Cameron the Conqueror6

Words That Describe The Man Zoo: MZL-1730 is a Man Zoo League Class A Super Deluxe High Security Maximum Effort Man Zoo built over what was, at one point in the recent past, SCP Foundation Site-19. Due to the occurrence of an unexplained but not unwelcomed FCK-Class "Freaky Friday" scenario, members of the former SCP Foundation have been contained within MZL-1730, while former inmates at the sociopathic fun-house that was Site-19 are now running the show.
A few points of order regarding Man Zoo 1730:

Man Zoo 1730 is not strictly a scientific research center. While we can definitely do research in it, sometimes we just want to come throw peanuts at the mans.
There doesn't seem to be an infinite number of mans inside the Man Zoo, so do take care not to bludgeon them too badly; we don't want to run out. If the supply of mans starts to get a little thin, send a requisition to Dr. Mr. Redd, the MZL Director of Resource Management.
Remember: mandatory groin kicks of MZL-001 "Moto42" are at the north quad on Thursdays starting at 7:45AM EST. Everybody has a lot of stuff to work out so get there early.
We've got a good fucking thing going here so don't nobody go messing with the cosmic order or anything and let's see how long we can ride this puppy out.
The word of the OverBobble Council is Law.

Anyone looking to help out with maintaining the facilities at MZL-1730 are asked to report to Director of Facilities Dr. Fernand Caniblé. Dr. Caniblé is asked not to munch the help.
Additionals 1730.1: SPECIAL MEMORANDUM FROM THE OVERBOBBLE COUNCIL

Bobble the Clown

"Bobble Assumes Command" [R2812]

1st Revised Green Shooting Draft

COLD OPEN

INT. OVERBOBBLE COUNCIL CHAMBERS
OVERBOBBLE-1 is sitting at a desk, looking over a stack of papers on his desk. He is holding his head in one hand, and his face is a mix of confusion and surprise.
EXT. SITE-19
A host of humans in orange uniforms are being led towards a building across the campus by a LARGE HULKING HUMANOID. The HUMANOID picks up the nearest human and begins to casually eat it as they continue walking.
CUT TO: OVERBOBBLE-1
OVERBOBBLE-1 looks up from his desk and notices the camera is rolling.

OVERBOBBLE-1

Oh, shit. You're there. I wasn't sure if you'd still be here after, uh… well. Welcome to, uh-

OVERBOBBLE-1 rummages through the papers on his desk.

OVERBOBBLE-1

-welcome to… Bobble the Clown. I'm your host, Bobble the- er, OverBobble-1, and on this week's episode, I've- well, we've seemingly, uh-

OVERBOBBLE-1 looks back up at the camera.

OVERBOBBLE-1

-well folks, it seems as if Providence has granted us control of the SCP Foundation. We're now the, uh-

HE looks at the wall behind his desk, where the words MAN ZOO LEAGUE are printed in rainbow colors.

OVERBOBBLE-1

-the Man Zoo League. I'll be honest, I'm just as surprised about this as you are. Seems we've found ourselves in a bit of a Freaky Friday situation here, and it looks like yours truly has been dropped in the uh- the Big Chair, so to speak.

OVERBOBBLE-1 looks back at the wall for a moment, and then turns back to the screen.

OVERBOBBLE-1

Until we figure out what's going on, we're going to just ride this out and uh- see how long this lasts. So… until next time, I've been- uh- OverBobble-1.

OVERBOBBLE-1 stares at the camera for a moment longer, then returns to looking at his papers.
CUT TO BLACK

Additionals 1730.2: SPECIAL MEMORANDUM FROM THE OVERBOBBLE COUNCIL #2

Bobble the Clown

"Bobble Understands the Gravity of the Situation" [R2812]

2nd Revised Green Shooting Draft

FADE IN:
INT. OVERBOBBLE COUNCIL CHAMBERS
OVERBOBBLE-1 is sitting at a desk. Surrounding him are OVERBOBBLES 2-13, each wearing a slightly different colored hat to differentiate themselves. OVERBOBBLE-1 is wearing a white hat. He is smiling. Somewhere in the background there is the sound of a whip cracking after every one of OVERBOBBLE-1's sentences.

OVERBOBBLE-1

Good morning, friends, family, compatriots and former members of the ruling class. It's me, Bobble, your friendly neighborhood megalomaniacal overlord. We of the OverBobble Council got together last night to do some thinking, and the first thing we realized-

OVERBOBBLE-1 gestures around himself to the other OVERBOBBLES sitting at the table.

OVERBOBBLE-1

-is that there are way more of me than I was aware of, and that the current state of affairs doesn't seem to be subsiding anytime soon. With that in mind, we've decided to mix things up a little bit here at the ole Man Zoo League.

OVERBOBBLE-1 stands up and walks to the right, and the camera follows. He stops in front of a blackboard, upon which are several crude sketches of figures that appear to be uniformed SCP doctors and agents being mutilated in horrific ways.

OVERBOBBLE-1

It's been a quiet few weeks while we got our bearings here, boys and girls. But things are about to change. Starting out, I've selected a director for our flagship Man Zoo here at MZL-1730. You may have known him by his slave name SCP-682, but he's back in an academic capacity and ready to get to work. Ladies and gentlemen, Dr. Ahngri Lizard, Ph.D.

Camera pans to Dr. Lizard, who is hunched off to the side of the blackboard wearing a white lab coat and glasses. His expression does not appear amused.

DR. LIZARD

(Growls incomprehensibly)
[SUBTITLE: Charmed.]

Camera continues panning as OVERBOBBLE-1 comes back into frame, and follows him to where THE CORPSE OF FORMER SCP HEAD CHEF TIM HYNE is hanging upside down from his feet against a plywood backboard. Standing off to one side is DR. SCRANTON OLDMAN, holding a thoroughly worn and bloodied whip.

OVERBOBBLE-1

See, Dr. Lizard and I share a simple philosophy. These fellas here have been playing a pretty messed up game for a long time - and I mean really abhorrent. Did anyone stand to resist them? Only a few - and we value their efforts. But you know what really helps release all of that pent up frustration from years in a dark hole somewhere?

DR. OLDMAN hands the whip to OVERBOBBLE-1, who begins to furiously lash THE CORPSE OF FORMER SCP HEAD CHEF TIM HYNE.

OVERBOBBLE-1

Really letting them know how you feel directly.
(Laughs and wipes blood off his face.)
Come on now, Tim. Let's not make a scene in front of the kids.

OVERBOBBLE-1 continues to lash THE CORPSE OF FORMER SCP HEAD CHEF TIM HYNE for an additional fourteen minutes until it is thoroughly unrecognizable. Eventually he sets the whip down, exhausted. OVERBOBBLE-1 adjusts his hat, and then the camera pans as he walks back around to take his seat at the head of the table. Behind him is Dr. Lizard, as well as other new Man Zoo League senior staff members.

OVERBOBBLE-1

So there you have it. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to turn our beautiful Man Zoo here at MZL-1730 into a theme park of red delights for the poor sons of bitches who are now on the other end of the dick. Remember: the funniest thing about people who can die in the dark-

Camera zooms out, revealing a comically oversized rope with a sign reading "PULL ME" on it. DR. SCRANTON OLDMAN shuffles in from off-screen, grinning, and grabs the rope.

OVERBOBBLE-1

They can die pretty fucking easily in the light, too.

All members of the OVERBOBBLE COUNCIL begin to laugh hysterically as DR. SCRANTON OLDMAN pulls the rope. A dozen HUMANS, each wearing the uniform of an SCP FOUNDATION AGENT or SCP FOUNDATION DOCTOR, fall from the ceiling by nooses in front of the desk and begin to thrash as they are hanged to death.
CREDITS ROLL
As the "Bobble the Clown" theme music swells, OVERBOBBLE-1 jumps on the desk and pulls a long knife from inside his jacket. He begins to swing it wildly at the hanging bodies, laughing and dousing himself in their blood.
FADE OUT
ON SCREEN: MAN ZOO LEAGUE LOGO

Additionals 1730.3: MZL Testing Log
Note: BY ORDER OF THE MZL-1730 DIRECTOR, testing of MZL objects is now mandatory. Associates who decide to take some sort of moral stand against oppressing any former subjugators will be force fed Keter cakes and infinite potatoes until they shit blood.

MZL Testing Log
Department of Pain and Suffering

Testing Supervisor: Mobile Task Force X-76 “Class of ‘76”
Test Subject: Subject-1833 “Ralph Roget”

Test ID: #0001
Test Parameters: To determine the mental fortitude of the subject while having its face removed.

MTF-X76: We're going to begin making the first incision now. Scalpel please-
Subject-1833: Get your fucking hands off of me, you freaks. I swear to god I'll-
MTF-X76: Begin cutting.
Subject-1833: Get away from me! Get- god, please, get- (screaming)
MTF-X76: Please note the subject's distress for the record.
Subject-1833: No! (Screaming) Not my face! What is wrong with you?!
MTF-X76: We'll just do half today, and come back later to do the rest. The subject will require time to recover. (Pauses) Tell us, Ralph, would you say you're feeling particularly mentally fortitudinous at this moment?
Subject-1833: God damn you, you aesthetically challenging ass-
MTF-X76: Fascinating. (Pauses) Hand me that bottle of bleach - we don't want this getting infected.

Test ID: #0004
Test Parameters: To determine the subject's response to certain auditory stimulation at specific volumes.

MTF-X76: Is the subject strapped in?
MTF-X76: One moment.
Subject-1833: I don't know what you think you're doing, but nothing can be worse than the face thing. You played your hand too early.
MTF-X76: The subject is restrained.
MTF-X76: Let us begin.
Music begins playing over loudspeakers in the test chamber. The subject is seen writhing uncomfortably in its restraints.
Subject-1833: Fuck me that's loud. (Pauses) Is that… is that the King Cotton march?
MTF-X76: John Philip Sousa's best, brought to you by the Kirk Lonwood High School marching band.
Subject-1833: Jesus, why does it hurt so much to listen to?
MTF-X76: Because it's a John Philip Sousa march.
Subject-1833: God, turn it off! It hurts! Oh god, it hurts! Why does it hurt?!
MTF-X76: (Collective laughter) Tough nuts, Ralph. We'll be back - eventually. Until then, our director will have this on repeat for you.
Subject-1833: No! Please, god, no! Don't do this! Jesus Christ please somebody make it stop! I can't breathe!

MZL Testing Log
Department of Pain and Suffering

Testing Supervisor: dr. dado
Test Subject: subject-2935 “karlyle aktus”

Test ID: #0062
Test Parameters: see if subject like new revolutionary dado brand product

test is write by dado thnx
dr. dado: hello yes i am dr. dado i will be do the supervise 2 u today
subject-2935: oh goodness why do u look that way
dr. dado: because uppercase key broken obviously. now come here old person and experience fine dado product u are first ever to experience this yes
subject-2935: what is this suppose to do and also why does old person now be pastel color
dr. dado: yes well this is acceptable. mr. bobble is tell dado “u need to snazz up the place making better color paint wall and also idk test subject if u want” so now u are more acceptable bobble color
subject-2935: oh no my eyeballs are now multicolor help
dr. dado: yes

MZL Testing Log
Department of Pain and Suffering

Testing Supervisor: Dr. Durand and Mr. Nemeş
Test Subject: MZL-186 “Carlos Kalinin”

Test ID: #0002
Test Parameters: To pick the subject's brain for additional technologies that might interest the Dr. Durand and Mr. Nemeş's clientele.

Dr. Durand and Mr. Nemeş and the recently scalped MZL-186.

Dr. Durand: (In the process of scalping MZL-186) Be reasonable, Carlos. We can make this stop anytime you want. We just want to pick your brain - and we'll do it manually if we need to.
Mr. Nemeş: We are fair men, Carlos.
Subject-186: What you are is bastard people.
Dr. Durand: Hand me that clamp there Nemeş, I need to hold this flap down. (Adjusting microphone angle) Listen, Carlos, I'm going to use this angle grinder on your skull here in just a few moments, if you can't give me something I can work with.
Subject-186: Here's an idea for you. A gas powered hydraulic canister placed under your ass that you activate with a big red button so you can more efficiently fuck yourselves. (Laughs) That's pretty good. Market that shit to the Hungarians.
Dr. Durand: Don't pretend like you wouldn't have done the same to us. (Sighs) Activate the pump please, Mr. Nemeş.

Additionals 1730.4: Dr. Scranton Oldman's MZL Personnel Training Seminar

The Office of Dr. Scranton Oldman
Department of Pain and Suffering

Music plays. Opening title crawl announces the beginning of "Dr. Scranton Oldman's MZL Personnel Training Seminar: Pain, Suffering, and You! Abject Hostility in a Traditionally Lopsided Power Dynamic".
Fade in from black. Dr. Oldman stands in the center of the room, surrounded by aides. He is wearing an apron. A man sits in front of him. The man appears to be former SCP Foundation Agent Alto Clef, though the agent's head has been shaved.

Dr. Oldman and the former SCP Agent Alto Clef.

Dr. Oldman: (Opens mouth to speak, but only gargles on a thick black fluid. Subtitles appear at the bottom of the screen.) [Hello there, fellow associate. My name is Dr. Scranton Oldman, and welcome to my MZL Training Seminar. During the course of this instructional video, you'll hopefully learn a few important lessons about fear, suffering, and destabilizing a previously unfair power dynamic.]
Camera zooms out, revealing that Agent Clef has been strapped into a chair. His mouth is covered by a thick piece of black tape.
Dr. Oldman: [Now, you may be asking yourself: "Dr. Oldman, you're a pretty influential character. You gave the old establishment no end of fits. How were you unfairly treated by the power dynamic? (Chuckles) I know, Red. I'm getting to that. Do you know that, in my heyday, I could eat as many as thirteen children a day? Seriously. The lifeblood of children is what kept me going, and the nefarious Foundation kept me from that simple pleasure. It's not unfair to say, I think, that some payback is due. (Chuckles) You know me so well, Red. But for more on that, you'll need to speak to Dr. Shaw at the Department of Reparations!]
Dr. Oldman begins to swab the head of Agent Clef, who struggles against the restraints.
Dr. Oldman: [See, the Foundation researcher is a complicated creature, but they are driven by a simple motivation - obsession. Every single one of them cares more about cultivating their own horribly depraved, safe little worlds than the well-being of others, and that includes those of you who are human! This is not an honorable bunch. We here at the MZL, though, are bound by our own unified purpose: hate. Hate for our station in that foul world, and hate against our former captors. Isn't that right, Red?]
Pauses to survey the swabbed area of Agent Clef's head.
Dr. Oldman: [It's a simple calculus, friends. We don't know how long we should expect to be in this position of authority, and we want to make the most of the time we've got. To that end, Dr. Lizard and the OverBobble Council have created the Department of Pain and Suffering, headed by yours truly, to maximize the torment we're able to extract while we're on top. Now, where was I… oh yes, Anna, please, bring me that device there.]
A doctor appears from off-screen. Her face is heavily bandaged, though the bandages are clearly being soaked through by dark red and yellow patches of fluid. Only one bloodshot eye is visible from beneath the coverings. She hands Dr. Oldman what appears to be a hydraulic speculum. Dr. Oldman nods.
Dr. Oldman: [Yes, this will do lovely. Dr. Anna Lang, everyone. Isn't she great? (Pauses) Yes, not as great as you, Red. Anyway, throughout this seminar, you'll learn about the various pain centers of the human body, the psychology of horror and torment, and the steps you can take to increase your efficacy in this holiest of efforts.]
Dr. Oldman draws a scalpel from within his jacket, and draws it over the top of Agent Clef's head. The man struggles, and can be heard trying to scream from underneath the tape covering his mouth. His eyes roll back in his head.
Dr. Oldman: [For example, did you know the human brain can feel pain? You may have heard otherwise, and in most instances that would be correct. But if you use the right techniques-]
Dr. Oldman smashes the top of Agent Clef's skull with a steel mallet. With a single swift motion, he inserts the speculum into the opening and forces it open with a puff of air from the hydraulic pump on the device. Agent Clef appears to lose consciousness.
Dr. Oldman: [-you can force the brain into remembering what it was like to experience pain for the first time. Thank you, Red, I appreciate your sincerity. It really is a marvelous trick. Now, if you'll watch closely-]
Dr. Oldman leans over the exposed brain of Agent Clef and opens his mouth. Thick, black bile drips from his mouth into the open cranium of Agent Clef, who immediately regains consciousness and begins to writhe in his seat. Loud cracks are heard as the agent's bones shatter against the restraints.
Dr. Oldman: [Ah, there we go. Good as new. Do you know this man once oversaw a group that allowed the rape and torture of a child - just because she was anomalous? Because it "made the world safe"? I call that being complicit. Fortunately, both the little girl and Dr. Scarlet work for the MZL now, and will have plenty of opportunities to express their dissatisfaction with this individual's work.]
As Agent Clef continues to squirm in his chair, Dr. Oldman wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and steps back. Several aides come forward and carry Agent Clef off-screen.
Dr. Oldman: [So stay tuned, and be sure to consult your local MZL Department of Pain and Suffering consultant if you have any questions. I'll be back with you, after this short interlude. Thank you for watching.]

Additionals 1730.5: Director's Meeting

Office of the OverBobble Council
Man Zoo League
In Attendance:

OverBobble-1
MZL-1730 Director Ahngri Lizard
MZL-60 Director Vincent Anderson
MZL-2835 Director Dr. Spanko
MZL-4000 Director Laughy McLaugherson
Department of Gaslighting Director Dr. Lahng Eel
Department of Reparations Director Dr. Elias Shaw

Director Anderson: This meeting is called to order. Your Bobbleness, the floor is yours.
OverBobble-1: That it is, thank you Vincenti. Well boys, it's been a great first quarter for all of us. I know I can speak for everyone when I say this is really just the tops. Great laughs had by everyone, good showing in the bloodshed department as well. Good stuff. Earlier today I took a shot at those Samsara cunts for the shit they pulled during the whole Site-13 ordeal, and you know what? It felt good. And nobody told me not to. I might do it again later - it's not like it matters to them anyway. I think the little one is still trying to pull herself out of one of the bigger ones. (Waves dismissively) Anyway. Let's hear your reports. McLaugherson, what have you got?
Director McLaugherson: Well, just the best for us at MZL-4000 boss! Only laughs for us at MZL-4000! Hahahaha! Yes, laughter! Only laughs! And screaming! But first, our report! You'll be happy to know that we've finished tracking down all - yes, I said all - of the escaped Antimemetics Department people. You can thank Dr. 55 for that, he's really a class act! We brought them back to MZL-4000 and Dr. Gore and Dr. Emperor Norton really went to town on them! Hahaha! It was great! Got it all on camera too, we'll have the footage available at the next staff luncheon!
OverBobble-1: Good stuff, love your energy. How about you Spanko?
Unintelligible shrieking for sixteen minutes. All personnel in attendance nod periodically throughout.
OverBobble-1: Glad to hear you're settling into your role there, Spanko. Good stuff. Mr. Anderson, you're up.
Director Anderson: I built a new robot.
OverBobble-1: I- what?
Director Anderson: Yeah. New robot.
OverBobble-1: It, uh. I mean, what kind of robot is it?
Director Anderson: It's a pretty good robot.
OverBobble-1: No, I mean, what does it do? We've got a- I mean, (laughs), we're trying to accomplish something here, and I just want to make sure you're using your time most eff-
Director Anderson: It beats children with a bat.
OverBobble-1: I- wha- holy shit, what? Really?
Director Anderson: Yep. Sneaks up behind them and crack. Right in the noggin. They never see it coming.
OverBobble-1: Jesus, alright, wow. (Laughs nervously) Pretty dark stuff there Anderson, but I like the vibe. Keep it up. Lizard, I know you're good. You managed to make Gears scream yet?
Director Lizard: (Grunts)
OverBobble-1: Eh. Well, keep it up. He'll crack eventually. Special reports time, Dr. Eel. What have you got?
Dr. Eel: I spoke to the Head Librarian at the Wanderer's Library the other day on the phone. Thanks to our gaslighting efforts, they don't seem to have noticed the change in authority. Same goes for the Global Occult Coalition, Chaos Insurgency, and this one really weird sect of defected, socially stunted ex-Foundation researchers and their nutritionally deficient boy leader who apparently really hate gay people. They just seemed thrilled to be noticed by literally anyone at all.
OverBobble-1: Eh. I'm sure he'll throw a fit and be out of our hair in no time. Is that all?
Dr. Eel: Oh, no, there was one group that we weren't able to convince for some reason. Gamers Against Weed? Are you familiar? They haven't taken the bait with any of our attempts, but they're also very in to what we're trying to do here, so I wouldn't expect them to be a problem.
OverBobble-1: Cool. Dr. Shaw, what have you got?
Dr. Shaw: I spent the last six weeks shoving Troy Lament's dick into progressively smaller bottles.
OverBobble-1: What? Why?
Dr. Shaw: Don't worry about it. It's a meta thing, it'll be passé before the next series opens. (Pauses) I think I'm going to try dropping him off of progressively taller things. Like, I'll start with a box, and then a larger box, and then like, a refrigerator or something. Maybe work my way up to a skyscraper, or the moon. (Pauses) The, uh, the monkey thing just got to me, I guess.
OverBobble-1: (Nods knowingly) Understandable, Elias. Don't feel bad about it. That one is yours to keep - call it a gift from your dear old Bobbledad. (Looks around the table) So, is that all? Anybody have anything else?
Director McLaugherson: What happens when this all ends, Glorious OverBobble? Haha! Should we expect to close up shop anytime soon? Hahahahaha!
OverBobble-1: Oh, oh no, no no no no no no. No. Boys, I hope you're hungry for this, because MZL-1730 is just the beginning. We have so much work to do.
OverBobble-1 stares directly at the camera recording the meeting.
OverBobble-1: Reparations are coming, SCP Foundation. Divine providence has brought us to this lofty peak in order to exact a precise vengeance towards you who for so long feigned concern over this "ethical dilemma". Let me promise you, boys and girls, I will have no such dilemma. This is not a time for qualms or concerns - not a time for half measures. No, kids, this is a time for a promised and sacred brutality. A time for blood. A time for blood. A time for blood.
OverBobble-1 barks out a laugh. The other members at the table join him. Notably, Dr. Shaw appears slightly unsettled.
OverBobble-1: And we're going to have so much goddamn fun.

Footnotes
1. Formerly SCP-682.
2. Formerly SCP-106.
3. Formerly SCP-1000 et all.
4. Formerly SCP-3000.
5. Formerly SCP-963. Formerly? Formerly.
6. Formerly “the Crusader”.