My best friend bled out in my arms. I wish I was a strong enough person to have let that just be the end of it. To just…let him die that one time. If wishes were horses, we'd all ride. -From the personal journal of Dr. Jacob Kensington

Dimensional Site-04, September 27, 20██
The office was significantly more plain that Dr. Kensington had expected. He had figured an O5 would have all well appointed oak, felt desk covers, drinks cabinet, the whole shebang. O5-2's office was, at best, a spartan space. Six large filing cabinets. Several computers. A reality anchor localized to this room. It was a place of work. O5-2 lounged back in her chair. "So tell me again. What exactly are you proposing here?"
Dr. Kensington shifted uncomfortably. He'd stolen the files in front of him, and all of the related materials from Michael's files. They hadn't been disturbed in months, but still, it irked him to steal from his friend, "I think we can use this to enact some kind of permanent change in reality. Something to give us an edge against the benders, and the anomalies. Lord knows they've been escalating."
O5-2 sat up, and steepeled her fingers, resting her chin on the intertwined digits. "And how, exactly, is this going to help us?" She reached across the desk, and rifled through the papers. Several mentions of 'reality anchorage' and 'Sumerian hex-cross-referencing' were scrawled across pages of graph paper. None of it made any sense according to the experts who'd read it. "This is all gibberish, and you know it."
Dr. Kensington hesitated a moment then nodded, "That's correct. In our reality, Dr. Magnus' 'research' is nothing but bunk. But in another reality it doesn't have to be. The entire theory of reality transference, and ego-spacial deference matrices isn't bullshit. It's just bullshit here." He could see the look in her eye. The same look Magnus must have gotten every time he ever tried to explain this.
Kens shifted the chair forward, and pointed to a diagram of a device, made of some black stone, which cradled a bismuth case. "Look, in our local space-time and hume levels, this is just a ludicrously expensive paperweight. But if we could…well, for lack of a better term, 'bend reality', we could make it function for a few seconds. Enough to jumpstart the transference. Whoever or whatever we needed could be…enhanced."
O5-2 looked across the table with her unnerving stare, and smiled a very slight smile, "Enhanced how? We've tried to do this in the past, and all of our attempts were…temporary at best. Or better left as footnotes in a file."
Dr. Kensington nodded, reaching down to his briefcase, and pulling out several level 4 clearance files. "Yes. The duke incident, I'm aware. While the damage was catastrophic the results where undeniable. If you could have all of your senior staff, every single one, as unkillable and, well, for lack of a better word 'lucky' as Dr. Kondraki all the time, would you?"
Her reply came without hesitation, "Of course I would. So what do we do?"
"We'll need some kind of object. Something to imprint this whole shebang on. Personally, I'd go with something living. It would have to be something relatively unimportant though, because there's no telling what this would do to the subject. Not something I'd like to think about honestly, reality takes exception with people screwing with it." Dr. Kensington adjusted his glasses, his fingers flexing nervously, several candidate files ready.
O5-2 nodded, and pressed a button on her phone, "Sal, can you bring us some coffee? It's going to be a long one." She looked up with an eyebrow cocked, "You drink coffee, right Jacob?"
Dr. Kensington swallowed. It was unnerving that an overseer knew his first name without having to look it up. "Of course." He reached down, checking his phone reflexively as he pulled out a few plans and designs. "We'll probably need the help of SCP-343, and a few others to begin the initial reaction…"
O5-2 nodded, "Not a problem. Let's talk about specifics, you let me worry about logistics."

Site-19, July 17, 20██
The site was under attack, and there was little to nothing that Michael could do about it. He ran through the halls trying to find a safe zone, but all of the lock down points had already been, well, locked down. It was his own stupid fault for waiting so long. He had to make sure that Jacob was alright before looking for cover.
An explosion rocked the corridor ahead of him and he fell to the ground, his glasses splaying out across the floor. Everything blurred, rocking back and forth as the tinny ringing in his ears slowly quieted to a roar. He scrambled for a moment before finding his glasses. In the distance he could see armed men in black uniforms rushing through the hole in the wall that had been created by the explosion.
Oh god. It's really happening. They're here, and I'm going to die.
He pulled himself to his feet, turning to run in the other direction. The loud report of gunfire filled the corridor behind him accompanied by raised voices.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. It's supposed to just…oh god, the guns are so loud!
He turned down a side corridor, and rushed past the medical wing. He tore through the door, and came to a halt in front of the reception desk, "Hello!? Is there anyone here?"
His eyes swept across the area behind the desk, and met with the eyes of a junior medical officer he'd met last week. Her glassy orbs stared in to the blank distance of oblivion. Magnus stood frozen, his blood running cold. Kayley. Her name was Kayley, and she loved falafel and salsa music. Now she was dead, and he was transfixed. The neat bloody holes in her neck stood out in a mockery of the vibrant life she'd had just this morning.
"N-no. Jesus christ no!"
He spun on the ball of his foot, running out the door. A jog turned in to a dead sprint, looking around to find signs of any foundation personnel. He caught a flash of a pair of lab coats down a distant hallway, and tore off after them, retreating from the gunfire. He turned the corner, green light emanating from an adjacent corridor.
An open shelter! Jesus Christ, I'm the luckiest son of a b— He turned the corner towards salvation, and came face to face with a tall man wearing black body armor, and a set of black fatigues. At his feet were two foundation scientists, and he was smacking some kind of gun in his hands. He caught a glimpse of Magnus, and stared hard at him.
Magnus fumbled at his side, looking for the absurd revolver he carried for a while, to try and impress the combat agents. The ridiculous leather holster was empty. Of course. I left it in the dormitory wing. I haven't carried that thing in months. All he could find was his little folder pocket knife. He pulled it out of his pocket, and flipped it out with sure motions, his hand settling around it as he had done a million times. To open boxes. To pry open a soda. He didn't know the first thing about defending himself with it.
The man in front of him cocked his head to the side, and smiled, reaching up to the shoulder of his body armor for the handle of what looked like the biggest knife Magnus had ever seen, dropping the gun in his hands to let it hang from its strap. The knife's blade had to be at least ten inches long.
"S-security teams are on their way! You'll never get out in time, before they get here! You should just go!" He tried to look confident, changing his stance to something he thought was approaching threatening. His legs felt so awkward. His fingers gripped the G10 handle of the little folding knife like a vice. He remembered buying the thing on Amazon, and bragging about how awesome it was. How it was basically razor sharp forever. It felt absolutely useless in his stiff fingers.
"No they're not. Yes I will, and I don't think I should." The man in front of him said. He walked forward with casual motions, his knife held upright from his fist. It was so goddamned big. Magnus tried to shift his knife backwards, like he saw on TV. The little knife blade sticking out of the bottom of his fist. "Defensive grip" his brain told him, but he didn't have the first clue.
At two paces away, the enemy agent flicked out his free hand, towards Magnus' face. Without even thinking about it, he sliced out with the knife, which maybe brushed the heavy gloves of the agent's hand. A sharp, and sudden pain hit his knee. A lashing boot had caught him in the knee cap, and he fell to the ground, supported only on his other knee.
A hand closed around the wrist of the arm holding the little knife, and a quick hot sensation filled his senses as he heard the bones of his wrist crack. The agent reached forward with his other hand gripping Magnus' hair, his head forcibly tilted to look him in the eyes. The giant, black-bladed knife looming about ten miles long above his face. "Should have stuck to the lab, pencil neck."
Magnus tried to say something in reply but the sudden bright flash of pain in his chest stopped him. The hand released his hair and fell away as several other hot sensations bloomed in his chest. The man turned and started walking away, as Magnus realized the truth. Oh fuck. He stabbed me. He stabbed me a lot.
It all happened so fast. The whole confrontation couldn't have taken more than a pair of seconds. It wasn't like that in the movies. For some reason, all he could think about was, Why wasn't it more like in the movies? Magnus' body hit the floor, blood rapidly pooling under him, his eyes staring up at the ceiling.
The last few moments of his life, he felt someone scooping his shoulders off the ground. Someone yelling in his face. But everything was so numb, so hard to make out. "K-Kens? I don't—"
Kensington screamed his rage to the ceiling as his best friend died in his arms. The security team behind him swept the area as the impotent rage washed over him.

Dimensional Site-04, July 18, 20██
O5-2 sat at a desk with the open file in front of her. Across from her desk sat another member of the O5 council, and Dr. Kensington. He hadn't yet washed the blood off his hands from the attack on Site-19 last night. "Gentlemen. We've accomplished the goal we set out to do last fall. Now all we needed was a willing subject to—"
"I have one." Kensington looked up at O5-2, his eyes clear, and bright with the pain and anger of the past 24 hours. "I have a body you can use. And an event, too. Something strong, and clear to latch on to."
O5-2 steepled her fingers again, leaning forward, "Do tell, Jacob." O5-6 turned his head, the vague black haze around his head from the persona obscurer tracking the movement and compensating.
"Michael Magnus. He was killed in the Site-19 incident last night. It gives us causality, a traumatic event, and a sufficient causal link to shift causality away from the Senior Staff." Dr. Kensington tried not to let his voice shake. Medical science was a hell of a thing, but it had been far, far too late to save Michael's life.
If they hurried, they could redirect the entire fact that he died away from reality, though. If they timed it right, they could give him a second chance. O5-6's voice came out a warbly mix of several voices, "So, if I'm reading this all right, we're going to knowingly bend reality so that we can turn our research staff in to anomalies? Is that about right? And we would use this…Dr. Magnus' body and death to do so?"
O5-2 nodded. "We would have. Why, did you have issue with the council's vote?" She looked across at the man in the chair, directly through the haze. They held eyes for several seconds, before he looked away, and stood.
"No. You know how I voted. Sorry about it, 2. But that's how it goes." O5-6 walked to the door out of O5-2's office, and punched in a six digit code, opening the door, and stepping through in the reality anchored location in Site-26.
"Alright then, Dr. Kensington. Have the remains brought here. We'll proceed at midnight tomorrow, if that's amenable to you?" Kensington hesitated for a moment, then nodded, and followed the same exit as O5-6, his eyes set and determined. Fuck the council. He was getting his best friend back.
She paused for a moment, her chin resting on interlaced fingers then smiled. She opened her desk drawer, and reached forward pressing the button on her phone, "Sal, come in for a moment?"
The door in front of her opened, and her assistant walked in, reading off of a ledger, "The memetic has been distributed. All mentions of Dr." His mouth moved, but no sound came out " have been removed from this reality. Are we sure that using this memetic agent is a good id—"
She held up a hand to silence him. "Begin Directive: Legends at once. We need to get this done before the other council members catch wind of this." She looked back down and started to jot notes on the file. The large block red letters of "REJECTED BY O5 COUNCIL VOTE" stood out starkly from the case file.

Dimensional Site-04, July 19, 20██ , 11:50 PM
The blacksite depths of Dimension Site 4 were hardly a pleasant place. Cold concrete surrounded the assembled group, flickering purple fractals manifesting in the corners of the room, aftereffects of the process holding Site 4 in dimensional suspension.
The only way to access the deeper levels of the site were with the direct accompaniment of an overseer. Kensginton's access card stopped working after the third basement. Six levels, and four elevators later, the concrete rectangle that contained the work of the past day stood starkly illuminated by floor lamps and industrial lighting.
A rough hewn altar, with chiseled bismuth crystals in the crude shape of a bowl, the lattice of crystals barely supporting the weight of the black bodybag inside it stood in the center of the room. Around it stood O5-2, Dr. Kensington, Sal, several medical assistants, and a man of indeterminate race, and very tired eyes. "Want me to shore up the altar a bit?"
She shook her head, "No. This is exactly how it was supposed to be according to the design." She took a step forward, and placed a hand on the bodybag in front of her. "You know what you're going to do right?"
He shifted uncomfortably, and the room heated up a fraction of a degree. The tie of his suit changed color from red to blue. "Yes. We're going to bend the area around this…thing, until it functions, right?" He took a step forward, and placed his hand on the body bag as well. "This is…an ugly ugly thing you're asking Mel—"
She looked over with a severe glare, "Don't you dare. And I know what I'm asking of you. You owe me."
Dr. Kensington's eyes were locked on the bag in front of him. This would work. He'd have his idiot friend back, and O5-2 would get her reality deference matrix. He clicked the pen in his hand a few times out of nerves, and looked up at O5-2. "Can we get on with this."
"Get out, Kensington. I'll let you know what happens" He started to protest, and she cut him off with a gesture, "I wasn't asking." Dr. Kensington looked at her with smoldering eyes, and stalked out of the room. She nodded, and looked over at the man next to her, "Whenever you're ready Ch—" He held up a hand, closing his eyes.
"Since you're insisting on titles, at least call me 343. And after this, we're even. This is…wrong. You don't even know what this might—" She turned away from him, and nodded her head. "Alright. Fine."
He held his hands out, concentrating on whatever enigmatic turn of fate allowed him to do what he did, and the temperature of the room rose. Several minutes passed, as sweat beaded on the rapidly reddening face of the nondescript man, the air taking on a faint metallic tang. His fingernails cracked as several minutes more passed, before the crude altar in front of them started to shake, and rattle. His voice croaked out, strained, "Now's the time, if you—"
O5-2 took a step forward, and slapped the body bag, and in a confident voice intoned, "Death was too good for you, idiot. It never happened." Everything around O5-2 slowed down, and a faint crackling sound could be heard, followed by a roaring. Her senses were overwhelmed, as her vision faded to white…then black…then slowly back to normal.
As the screams faded away, Michael Magnus lay on the floor gasping, the skeletal remains in the bowl of the altar glowing a faint purple.
"Where…what…I don't….?" Magnus' words were slurred. "I don't…I was dead, how am I here?! I didn't…oh my fucking god—" he ripped open his shirt, looking down at his chest. The stab wounds were just…not there. No scar, no line, nothing. "I don't understand."
O5-2 took two long steps to stand in front of Magnus, "Oh Michael. Don't you know, legends never die?" He looked up at her with wary eyes, as she gestured to several medical staff present. "Get him cleaned up, and back to Site-19. He has work to do."
Sal took a step forward, standing next to O5-2, "The design specifies that the effect will get stronger with subsequent breaches of the causality. Are we going to—"
She smirked, and turned to head back to her office, "Don't worry Sal. Michael has quite a few "fieldwork" missions planned for the future."

Dimensional Site-04-a (provisional designation), July 19, 20██ , 11:59 Pm
Dr. Kensington's eyes were locked on the bag in front of him. This would work. He'd have his idiot friend back, and O5-2 would get her reality deference matrix. He clicked the pen in his hand a few times out of nerves, and looked up at O5-2. "Can we get on with this."
"Get out, Kensington. I'll let you know what happens" He took two steps forward, and squared his jaw. "With all due respect, ma'am, fuck off."
She smiled faintly, then nodded, and looked over at the man next to her, "Whenever you're ready Ch—" He held up a hand, closing his eyes.
"Since you're insisting on titles, at least call me 343. And after this, we're even. This is…wrong. You don't even know what this might—" She turned away from him, and nodded her head. "Alright. Fine."
He held his hands out, concentrating on whatever enigmatic turn of fate allowed him to do what he did, and the temperature of the room rose. Several minutes passed, as sweat beaded on the face of the reality bending man, the air taking on a faint metallic tang. His lips cracked as several minutes more passed, before the crude altar in front of them started to shake, and rattle. His voice croaked out, strained, "Now's the moment, if you—"
O5-2 took a step forward, and slapped the body bag, and in a confident voice intoned, "I've worked too hard to put this much faith in this idiot, now get the hell up!." Everything around O5-2 slowed down, and a faint crackling sound could be heard, followed by a shattering sound. Her senses were overwhelmed, as her vision faded to white…then black…then slowly back to normal.
SCP-343 looked over at O5-2, "I'm sorry, I don't know what you were expecting, but that's all." He had returned to his usual appearance, all traces of strain gone from his features. "I'm heading back to containment now." With no warning, he simply vanished without ceremony.
She looked over at Kensington, and frowned. "Well, that's all?"
His eyes fell to the floor, gritting his teeth. God dammit. It was supposed to work, everything in the notes indicated… Fuck it. At least I tried. Rest in peace you old asshole. "I guess that's all." He turned, and stalked out of the room, heading back towards the dimensional entrance to Site-19.
A few minutes of strained silence passed. At least there's no one to deal with from the council this way… She thought to herself. From the corner, Sal's tablet started to beep. "Ma'am, we have reports of Hume levels are spiking off the charts. Something's happening." His phone rang in his pocket, and he lifted it to his ear. Several tense moments passed in silence. "We've got a confirmed anomaly in Montana. The agents responding report…dogs. Lots, and lots of dogs, and some kind of entity leading them."
O5-2 chewed her lip for a moment, eyes darting from the altar in front of her to Sal. "That's just a coincidence."
Sal looked at her sideline. "Yes. Because there's so many coincidences in this world, right?" She made a vague dismissive motion, and turned to walk towards her office. "Get me the head of the containment team." She took one final look at the burnt body bag and the skeletal remains that were all that was left of Michael Magnus. "Keep a survey team around the remains. If there is a correlation…we…" She paused. "Sal, I don't even know. Just keep a team in place."
He watched her leave the barely lit basement room, and looked down at the tablet in his hand. The steady stream of messages was coming in regarding Montana. He shrugged, and called in for the containment team, his back turned towards the altar, and the faint purple light present on the flickering nick in the third rib.

« Legends Never Die | HUB | »


=SCP Foundation=
Department of Human Resources
Office of Psychological Health Services

Routine Psychological Health Screening Transcript
November 17th, 2022
Attending: Dr. D.H. Aeslinger, Psy.D.
Patient: Jacob Conwell

Aeslinger: Afternoon, Jacob.
Conwell: Afternoon.
Aeslinger: It's been a while. How are Kate and kids?
Conwell: Alright, I suppose. Kate's been pretty swamped at the hospital recently. Zach just started preschool. Little Carrie is a toddler, so typical stuff there…
Aeslinger: Never a quiet moment, huh?
Conwell: How'd you know?
Aeslinger: Lucky guess. How are you doing?
Conwell pauses.
Conwell: The insomnia came back… I don't think I've gotten a full night's sleep in weeks.
Aeslinger: Interesting. Why do you think that is?
Conwell sighs.
Conwell: About four months ago, a little after Merlo got promoted to Assistant Site Director, Holman had my AMat lab drop its current project load to start working on tasks for the Paratech devs. Anti-Anderson stuff. Sprays that eat through Aplomado unit armor, chemical tests to check for Saker units, stuff like that.
Aeslinger: You've done experiments for the paratech devs before, Jacob. Why do you think this is only causing problems now?
Conwell: Probably because they are having us test our prototypes on captured Anderson units.
Aeslinger: And that doesn't sit well with you?
Conwell: Not at all. They might be robots, sure, but these things are intelligent. The Peregrine units are about as sharp as any person. The Aplomados and Merlins are kind of like dogs in a sense. They know abuse, and I'm pretty sure they have some form of pain receptor system. Have you ever seen an auto-turret cower from you? It's disheartening, to say the least.
Aeslinger: I can imagine… If this project is so troubling, have you considered asking Holman for a leave of absence? I'm sure there are plenty of AMat labs in need of assistance while the clock runs down here.
Conwell: I have no idea how long that clock has left on it, though. Could be years. Every time we finish one part of the project, another two tasks get tacked on. I can't just pass the buck onto my team and vanish into the ether, and I certainly can't uproot Kate like that. That's just replacing one shitty situation with another.
Aeslinger: So, you plan to just wait it out?
Conwell: Pretty much… this too shall pass…
Conwell pauses again.
Aeslinger: You don't seem so certain.
Conwell: Merlo and Holman have something big planned, and whatever it is, it's going to put a lot of blood on my hands. I just know it…
Conwell chuckles.
Conwell: I wonder if this is how Nobel felt after dynamite…

August 15th, 2023

Assistant Director Sasha Merlo sat upon a park bench within Portland's South Park Blocks. Despite the balmy summer weather, a cup of coffee was nestled in her grip. Watching several children nearby play around a statue of Abraham Lincoln, Merlo smiled, thinking about her own daughter who was also at that carefree age.
"Ahem."
Merlo looked up to see that company had arrived and taken a seat on the park bench next to her.
"Agent Thorne," Merlo greeted her guest, an agent for the UIU's Three Portland's division.
"Agent Merlo," Thorne replied.
"It's Assistant Director now, I'm afraid," Merlo chuckled.
"Right. Congratulations, by the way."
"Thanks."
Thorne handed her an unmarked folder. As she skimmed the contents, Merlo's eyebrows rose, followed by the corners of her lips.
"We're onboard," Thorne explained. "I think you'll find our terms more than reasonable.”
"What finally convinced you guys?"
"The law?" Thorne shrugged. "The Hoover Mandate doesn't protect you from getting arrested for replacing a Congressman with an android. There's been a warrant out for Anderson's arrest since 2018. Just didn't have the resources to do much about it. Until now…”
"Yeah," Merlo snickered. "Imagine the frustration of having the resources but not the jurisdiction.”
“Life sure is a bitch, isn't it?” Thorne said with a smile.
“It really is.”
“You confident this will work?” Their smile vanished.
“As confident as I can be. We'll get him this time. I promise."
"I really hope so…" Thorne sighed. "If this goes wrong, we're going to have problems. Big problems. Even if this goes off without a hitch, a lot of people in Three Ports will be pissed off. There'll be protests. Maybe even riots. We're spread pretty thin as is without the Foundation shooting us in the foot."
"I hear you," Merlo replied, placing a sympathetic hand on Thorne's shoulder, "and if you have a better way I'm all ears, otherwise we're just going to have to deal with the hand we are dealt. Anderson is a hydra whose heads need to be severed all at once."
"So it is."
Thorne looked at their watch and then stood, brushing off their coat.
"We'll be in touch," Thorne said, beginning to head out. They then paused and turned around to deliver one last comment. "You do know severing a hydra's heads only causes more to grow in its place, right?"
Merlo chuckled and shrugged.
"What can I say," she replied. "I don't get paid to make analogies.”

=SCP Foundation=
Overwatch HQ
Office of the Overseer Council

Director Holman,
Your and your assistant director's persistence has certainly been noted. While many of us still have our reservations, given recent developments, including the cooperation of the Unusual Incidents Unit, we have voted eleven to two to approve OPERATION FALCON PUNCH. Expect the official documentation shortly.
Good luck, and for the love of god please come up with better codenames in the future.
O5-3

Secure. Contain. Protect.

=OPERATION FALCON PUNCH=
Transcript from Joint Task Force Briefing
May 23rd, 2024

Afternoon, everyone.
For those of you who don't know me, I'm Assistant Director Sasha Merlo. For those of you who do know me, glad to see your bright and smiling face again.
By now you've probably heard the rumors that the bigwigs at O5 Command have approved a Foundation Operation in the Location of Interest known as Three Portlands. They have. In approximately 24 hours, a joint operational force between the Foundation and the UIU will launch a massive raid on the world headquarters of GoI-1115 — also known as Anderson Robotics — under the title of Operation Falcon Punch.
Yes, Agent Spencer. I can see you. Put your thumbs down.
And yes, Shaw. I did come up with the name.
Moving on, the operation will consist of three main components: Mobile Task Force Gamma-13 under command of Agent Clarissa Shaw, Mobile Task Force Tau-51 under command of Agent Damian Creed, and Joint Task Force Delta-3, under the command of Agent Kenneth Spencer. Each task force will enter Three Portlands from a different Way, all within a kilometer of the Anderson HQ. From there, Gamma-13 will be securing the facility's production floor, Tau-51 will be detaining all persons of interest within the corporate offices, while Delta-3 will be creating a secure perimeter to ensure minimum civilian interference.
Yes, Agent Carter, we will be trusting the UIU to "watch the wizards." Considering how that is the Three Portlands Unit's job description, they are more than capable of doing that. Additionally, considering their importance to the success of this operation, I'd appreciate it if you would not refer to them as "UIUseless." Are we clear?
Excellent. It's up to Agent Spencer and his crew to accept your apology though.
The official story is that Anderson is being arrested by the UIU for his involvement with the Congressman Caldwell fiasco back in 2018. All personnel will be operating under the guise of Federal agents for the duration of the raid, and expected to play the part. While the US Government is willing to play ball with us on this occasion, the population of Three Portlands has no such intention, and word of the Foundation openly operating within the city on this scale would cause panic if not outright occult warfare. So yeah… let's not fuck this one up, people.
You will now break out into your respected task forces. Your individual commanders will be providing you with specifics of your individual assignments.
A lot of blood, sweat, and tears went into getting us to this point, folks. The paratech devs and AMat labs have pulled out all the stops in getting us equipped with the gear we will need, Analytics has provided an accurate layout of the facility, and has been feeding AR's spybots false info for months. If we have ever had the upper hand it is now. I expect this to be a quick and clean shut-down. We won't get this chance again.
Godspeed.
Dismissed.

May 24th, 2024
11:30 AM PDT
THIRTY MINUTES TO RAID

Agents Spencer and Thorne sat within a large unmarked van, parked in front of an alley within Portland, Oregon. Around them were the members of JTF Delta-3, each dressed in FBI raid gear regardless of their Foundation or UIU origin.
"Think it'll go well?" Thorne inquired, taking the opportunity to check their gear over one last time.
"Knowing Merlo's track record," Spencer replied, "not at all. This still feels like a huge mistake."
"Probably is," Thorne shrugged. "When the dust settles it's going to be the UIU dealing with the fallout. Not the Foundation. Still… Anderson needs to go down.”
"Don't remind me." Spencer sighed and looked over his own gear in turn. The Foundation had loaned them numerous toys for the duration of the raid; it was truly impressive how many bells and whistles you could afford when you legally didn't exist.
Thorne looked at their watch and sighed. "Shall we, then?" they asked.
Spencer nodded and cleared his throat.
"Alright, listen up," he called. All heads in the van turned to him. "Just a reminder that we are on crowd control. Non-lethal crowd control. I can promise you that if you unload on any random wizard, you won't make it back to Baseline reality alive. Clear?"
The van briefly filled with mumbles of affirmation.
"Right then," Spencer concluded. "Let's kill some robots."

Excerpt From "The Three Portlands Investigator"
May 25th, 2024

P

rometheus Plaza - May 24th, 2024 At approximately 3:00 PM EDT, multiple FBI strike teams emerged from the Asimov Street, Clark Place, and Bradbury Street Ways and converged upon the Anderson Robotics World Headquarters, launching a massive raid on the facility of a scope unseen since the days of the Chicago Spirit.
"The Asimov Street Way opened with a flash, like it always does, and immediately this FBI team decked out in all this fancy gear came pouring out and crossed the plaza," Tyler Henderson, a local vendor operating within Prometheus Plaza who witnessed the start of the raid, claimed. "They quickly dispatched the security droids that are always sitting motionless at the gates. It was like watching those giant South American army ants swarm over a downed bird or something. It became pretty clear after that, based on the noise, that there were more teams coming in from other streets. Whatever Anderson did, these guys were coming to kick his teeth in and kick them in hard."
"It was like a war zone, or something out of the Terminator movies," said Sophia Fisher, a bike courier who had been leaving the Anderson Robotics lobby when the fighting began. "I ducked behind a desk and just waited for a chance to break for it. Guns were going off. Shelled out and disintegrating robots clattered to the ground. Some of them were made to look like people…"
UIU representatives could not be reached for comment at this time as to the catalyst of the raid, though speculation as to Foundation involvement has begun to run rampant…

Transcript of Surveillance Footage Captured by MTF Gamma-13
Anderson Robotics Headquarters
Main Production Floor

<15:10:33> Multiple Anderson Robotics employees are visible at their work stations.
<15:11:22> Security alarms go off on the floor. The employees look around in fright as a supervisor is visible giving instructions.
<15:12:45> Multiple squads of Peregrine Units armed with a variety of firearms strategically place themselves throughout the floor. Employees have hidden under their desks, work stations, and beneath conveyors.
<15:15:40> A door visible at the back of the production floor can be seen being forced inward. A flashbang grenade is tossed inside the facility and goes off.
<15:16:10> Multiple canisters are thrown into the facility from the open door. Peregrine units caught in the gas released by the canisters can be seen disintegrating.
<15:16:50> Agents of MTF Gamma-13 enter the facility from the doorway, taking cover behind nearby desks and machinery. Fire is exchanged between the agents and the Peregrine defense units.
<15:18:22> Anderson Robotics employees near the MTF are apprehended and quickly incapacitated via zip-ties.
<15:19:29> Additional Peregrine units arrive. The current firefight continues. Agents Hale, Thompson, and Lee are down.
<15:19:35> Firefight continues with Peregrine units unable to gain ground on Gamma-13 operatives. Agent Carter destroys the last Peregrine unit visible at 15:28:16
<15:30:09> MTF Gamma-13 press further into the production floor. Casualties and apprehended employees are moved outside.
<15:32:18> Additional Anderson Robotics employees are seen being apprehended by Gamma-13 personnel. An additional alarm begins to sound on the production floor.
<15:33:49> Aplomado units are visible descending the facility walls from storage lockers, opening fire on Gamma-13 personnel as they descend. Agents Snyder, Lopez, and Rosa are downed. The remaining Gamma-13 operatives take cover behind available desks and machinery.
<15:35:52> Agent Shaw is visible tossing a Bewit EMP Grendade into the air. At the peak of its arc, the grenade detonates. Aplomado units appear stunned. Gamma-13 operatives quickly spray down the Aplomado units with an orange mist before returning to cover.
<15:36:10> The Aplomado units begin to fall apart, and are quickly dispatched by small arms fire from MTF Gamma-13.
<15:37:45> MTF Gamma-13 press further into the production floor. Casualties and apprehended employees are moved outside.
<15:38:20> The camera begins to shake as a third alarm begins to go off. A large panel opens in the floor as a Taita unit rises up into the production floor.
<15:39:45> Taita unit activates. Gamma-13 operatives are seen retreating through the production floor.
<15:40:15> Agents Henderson and Kang are eviscerated by the Taita unit.
<15:40:30> Agents Kim and Smith are eviscerated by the Taita unit.
<15:40:50> Agents Swanson and Jensen are eviscerated by the Taita unit.
<15:41:15> Additional Gamma-13 operatives arrive on the floor. All personnel available are visible pelting the Taita unit with metal canisters that quickly cover the Taita unit with a thick black smoke.
<15:42:00> Vision is obscured by smoke until 15:44:39.
<15:45:20> Vision is fully restored. A large pile of ash remains where the Taita unit was last seen.
<15:46:22> No further resistance is apparent. Gamma-13 operatives remove apprehended employees and casualties from the production floor.
<15:50:11> Anderson Robotics Main Production floor is locked down by Gamma-13 operatives. Agent Shaw is seen leading a strike force deeper into the facility.

Anderson Robotics Headquarters
R&D Lab

"God fucking damn it!" Jason Contos shouted, throwing the contents of the nearest desktop to the floor in anger before running a hand through his curly blond hair with a panicked sigh.
He and his team had been watching the battle on the production floor from monitors in the R&D lab. They had been hoping the Taita unit would stall the incoming task force, giving them enough time to copy their research data and destroy the originals. Unfortunately, much like said unit, their hopes were quickly disintegrating. The task force was on its way, and the copies were only about 60% done.
"It stopped them for quite a while…" one researcher commented under his breath.
"That's little comfort, Gregg!" Jason snapped back.
"What do we do now, Mr. Contos?" another researcher asked, her eyes bouncing nervously between her supervisor and the door.
Jason pulled off his glasses and began to clean them nervously, the gears turning in his head as he thought through the situation. Eventually, he returned his glasses to their proper place, and snapped his attention to the pair of Peregrine units standing at attention in the back corner of the room.
"Widget," Jason ordered, "you stay here. Hans, pull Security Team 3 and get everyone to the subbasement. There's a passage there to the Undercity."
"Sir," Hans protested, "Team 3 has already been assigned to security detail in the warehouse, I can't-"
"Vocal Override Thirty-One, pass code Alexvyla," Jason interrupted.
Hans immediately fell silent and nodded.
"Understood, sir," the android replied. "Ladies and gentlemen, please follow me to the subbasement. We must hurry."
"You can't stay here, Jason," Widget protested. "Anderson explicitly stated-"
"I'll override you too!" Jason interrupted again. "Someone needs to stay here and make the copies and burn our tracks. I'm the co-captain of this ship, so I'll go down with it. Once the copies are ready I'll put them on that Amur drone, Terrance, or whatever my Mom calls it, and send it on its merry way. The Aplomado's in the halls should hold off the task force until the deletions are done. From there, hey, let's see how lucky I am. Understood?"
Widget nodded.
"That cool with the rest of you?" Jason asked his researchers. They replied with low mumbles begrudging acceptance. "Awesome-sauce. Now get the hell out of here. You're all fired."
The Research and Development team quickly exited the lab, Hans losing no time in acquiring additional back up and leading them down to the waiting subbasement below. Meanwhile, the sound of gunfire growing closer indicated that the task forces were in the offices proper. It would only be a matter of minutes before they found him here.
"Might it be wiser if I performed this task, and you used this opportunity to escape, Mr. Contos?" Widget asked, looking over Jason's shoulder as he worked at a nearby computer. "I'm more than capable."
"We don't have time to delete everything at each individual computer," Jason responded. "I have a prototype that will do the trick, but you can't touch it. So, no dice."
"You really want to play hero, don't you?" Widget commented with a mechanical laugh.
"Damn straight," Jason stated without looking up from his work. With a fluid motion, he removed the silver flash drive containing all the copies of their research from the computer, and replaced it with a thin rod of black metal. The computer sparked and died, then chained electricity to all other computers in the room. The room became thick with the smell of ozone as Jason applauded his own show of force.
"Man, I've always wanted to do that," Jason laughed fiendishly. "Now where's that Amur unit…"
Before Widget could reply, a series of bullets pierced its head. Jason dived below his desk in terror. From his position of relative safety, he watched as the android attempted to return fire, only to be gunned down, and finally destroyed in a cloud of mist that disintegrated its frame.
"Holy shit, man," Jason said lowly, his eyes wide in horror.
"You, under the desk, get out now!" a voice barked.
Jason paused, looking around for his mother's Amur drone.
"Now!" The voice barked again, this time accompanied by the sound of gun hammers being drawn back.
"Alright, alright!" Jason answered and slowly got to his feet, his hands raised over his head, a death grip on the flash drive. Before him were three agents dressed in the paraphernalia of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. "Here I am. Happy?"
"Put the flash drive on the table, and get down on your knees!"
"Of course…"
Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw his mother's Amur drone sticking to the ceiling. The tiny robot gave a cautious wave, causing him to softly smile.
"Are you deaf? Down on your knees!" The agent barked again.
Jason threw the flash drive toward the drone. The Amur unit launched itself from the ceiling and caught it midair, vanishing as it hit the ground and scurried away. Bullets tore through Jason as though he were tissue paper. He fell backwards into an office chair, his momentum causing it to roll to the far side of the room where it was stopped by a desk. Jason laughed in pain as he glanced over his broken body.
"Fuck, that was a stupid decision. Talk about overkill…"
He continued to laugh weakly for several more moments, then became still.

Anderson Robotics Headquarters
Advanced Logic Division

"They'll be here soon," said Dr. Jeffery Wilson as he sat at his desk within his office in the Anderson Robotics Advanced Logic Division. "Never thought I'd see the day when Vince's chickens came home to roost."
Dr. Wilson was the man responsible for most of Anderson Robotics' artificial intelligences, and was the man who made the Saker units possible. In a previous life, he had been an employee for Prometheus Labs. Now, for the second time in his life, he was watching his employer implode around him. As he watched the invading task force snake its way from office to office on the monitor on his desk, he let out a long, tired sigh, followed by a chuckle.
"Perhaps I'm just cursed," he commented. "Jeffery Wilson, destroyer of enterprise."
Sitting at a chair across from him was his son and assistant, Miles Wilson. Miles gave a small smile at his father's joke then sighed as well.
"If we leave now, we might still be able to make it out…" Miles suggested, stopping only after his father held up his hand.
"These are federal agents," Dr. Wilson said, pointing at his monitor. "I'm far too old and tired to live as a fugitive."
"So, that's that then?" Miles asked, an eyebrow raised.
"That's that."
Dr. Wilson then turned his attention to a picture on his desk. Him, his ex-wife, and Miles were smiling, the latter in a baseball uniform for the Oregon State Beavers. The image initially brought a sad smile to Wilson's face, followed by a deep frown. Sighing again, he turned his gaze to Miles.
"Saker-00. Deactivate personality module. Override passcode Mighty Miles."
Miles blinked several times, then seemed to fall asleep. After a few moments, he woke, then looked at Dr. Wilson with a quizzical expression.
"Is there a reason you turned off my personality module, Dr. Wilson?"
"I'd prefer to not have to watch my son die a second time, Zero," Dr. Wilson answered with an apologetic smile. "I'm sure you understand."
Saker-00 smiled in kind and nodded.
"Understood, sir. For what it's worth, I'm happy you could see me as your son."
"You played the part well," Dr. Wilson replied. "I couldn't have asked for anything more."
The sound of heavy footsteps and gunfire grew closer. Dr. Wilson put his hands over his head in anticipation, and closed his eyes.

Transcript of Surveillance Footage Captured by MTF Tau-51
Anderson Robotics Headquarters
Administrative Offices

<16:20:18> No employees are visible. Administrative offices have been abandoned for the last 10 minutes.
<16:21:23> PoI Isaac Dillard, Executive Officer of Anderson Robotics enters the offices, accompanied by a man identified as David Boyko, Dillard's secretary.
<16:22:16> Boyko appears to speak with Dillard for several moments. Dillard places a hand on his shoulder and kisses his forehead before pointing out into the hallway and then to the clock on the wall. Dillard then heads into his office.
<16:23:30> Dillard returns from his office with a large silver cylinder, and a pistol. He gestures to the door. Boyko nods and begins to leave. Dillard shoots Boyko in the back of the head when his back is turned. Boyko's body falls to the floor.
<16:24:45> Dillard appears to collect a sample of blood from Boyko using the silver cylinder. He then begins to clear a large space in the center of the office by moving desks and chairs.
<16:25:45> Dillard places the cylinder at the center of the clearing. The cylinder begins to glow bright blue, then melts into a silver disk. Dillard approaches the disk.
<16:26:20> Agents Allee, Hedges, and Toth of MTF Tau-51 enter the offices with their firearms drawn and attempt to apprehend Dillard.
<16:26:30> Dillard gestures at the agents in an obscene manner with both hands, then steps backward onto the disk, appearing to fall through it.
<16:26:40> The disk vanishes, leaving a large burn mark on the floor.

Anderson Robotics Headquarters
Rooftop

"He's heading for the rooftop, Delta-3 ops be advised!" Agent Clarissa Shaw shouted into her mic as she sprinted up a flight of stairs. Trailing behind her were Agents Carter and Sherman, the best Gamma-13 had to offer. Two full flight ahead of the trio was a man in a black and red suit, with a silver comedy mask. His name was Vincent Anderson, and he was getting away.
"God, damn it!" Shaw shouted as she broke into a full sprint, the stairs flying beneath her as she started to gain on her target. Two full flights of stairs became one flight, which then turned into half a flight. By the time he burst through the roof access door she was practically on his heels. Her shoulder slammed into the door as she passed from the stairwell and into the cold Three Portlands rain.
"Where are you going to go, Vince?" Shaw shouted, leveling her pistol. “We have your physical body in custody. Your business has crumbled. You can't run anymore. It's over. You lost.”
At the far end of the rooftop Anderson stood, looking down at the ground that waited 10 stories below. He then sighed, raised his hands over his head, and turned around, taking off his comedy mask and letting it drop to the ground. The face beneath gave a charming smile. He then gave a small salute and jumped backwards off the roof.
Shaw swore and fired off several rounds. A sudden sharp pain in her neck threw off her aim.
"God fucking damn it!" Shaw swore as she quickly pried the source of the pain from her body and threw it on the ground before stomping on it. Upon moving her boot, she saw the remains of a tiny silver Amur drone. As the squashed robot gave a weak wave to Shaw, the agent stomped on it again with a cry of rage. The drone's eyes went dim. Shaw then quickly ran to the edge of the roof top and looked down in time to see Anderson sprinting out of view.
"I really hate that man…" Shaw mumbled to herself, then spoke into her mic. "Spencer. Thorne. He's heading your way. I just took down Benny."
Shaw immediately began to head down the fire escape, hitting the ground a minute and a half later with a heavy thud, and renewing the chase.

* * * *

"You guys really pulled out the stops this time…" Anderson commented to himself as he sprinted away from the smoking shell of his company's former headquarters. "Fuck you too, Merlo…"
As he turned a corner within the alley, a shot rang out. Anderson froze, looking down to see a bullet hole in his chest. He briefly considered how much such a wound would hurt on his actual body, and not his current Saker puppet, then looked up. Several task force agents, led by Spencer and Thorne, stood waiting, their weapons leveled.
"Was that supposed to be a warning shot?" Anderson asked.
"No, not really,” Spencer replied. One of the agents behind him pumped his shotgun.
Anderson smiled and sighed. "Cute."
"We try."
Anderson nodded in agreement, then lurched forward like a cornered snake, taking Spencer to the ground. The air filled with the smell of gunpowder as the remaining agents began to open fire. Thorne flew backwards several feet, striking the alley wall as Anderson jumped up and delivered a swift kick, stumbling upon landing as bullet after bullet pierced his slender frame. His motions beginning to slow, he took on a drunken stagger from the increasing amount of damage.
Anderson let out a feral yell and proceeded to lurch forward again, striking a nearby agent like an 18-wheeler hitting a fawn. The agent looked down to see Anderson's fist protruding through his torso and let out a sharp yelp. His fist still in the man's stomach, Anderson yanked him into the line of fire. As the agent went limp, Anderson dropped him and grabbed his rifle. With a few well-aimed bursts, the remaining agents dropped too. Looking around, and seeing himself as the last man standing, he quietly threw the spent weapon away.
"I… think I'll… take my leave now… If you don't mind…" Anderson struggled to speak as the various systems within his Saker frame began to fail, crash, or otherwise shut down. He attempted to limp forward but stopped upon feeling a grip wrapped around his ankle. Anderson looked down to see Spencer grabbing him with one hand and pistol held tightly in the other.
"What… do you think… you are doing?"
"Stalling."
Anderson saw movement from the corner of his eye, and turned his head just in time to see Thorne ram him with their shoulder. The android slammed into the nearby wall as Thorne helped Spencer to his feet. The two agents quickly leveled their pistols and proceeded to empty their magazines in tandem into the broken droid. Anderson did not attempt to get up again.
"I… take it that… I'm under arrest…" Anderson said slowly, his head turning from Thorne, to Spencer, and back again. He then watched as Agent Shaw came up the alley, a silver canister in hand.
"You can't arrest someone you already have in custody, Vince," Shaw answered as she approached.
She then pulled the tab on the canister and tossed it at Anderson. He reflexively caught it as it began to spray its fine white mist. The droid looked up at Shaw, then to Thorne, and finally to Spencer.
"I see," he said with a sigh. "You know… you three are… not as much fun… as Sasha was."
Anderson closed his eyes, his expression one of acceptance as his battered form vanished within the cloud of mist, what little remained of his body silently melting away, leaving behind only a red and black suit.
"How sure are you he won't just body-hop to another Saker unit?" Thorne asked as they poked Anderson's remains with their boot. “These kinds of things tend to be repeatable, in my experience.”
"Not very," Shaw answered. "I'm guessing there is some paratech shenanigans that need to be in place for that to happen. Probably wouldn't have fought so hard if he could just beam his mind to another Saker.”
"I don't find that reassuring," Spencer commented as the trio set about helping out their downed colleagues. "At all."
"Just a theory," Shaw shrugged. "Still, I'd still chalk this up as a victory."
"Checkmate," Thorne agreed.
"More like flipping the board over and beating your opponent unconscious," Spencer observed. Smoke and the sound of periodic gunfire still emanated from the direction of the Headquarters.
"Still counts," Shaw said with a tired smile.
There was still much work to do.

Excerpt From "The Portlander"
May 26th, 2024

C

itizens in Federal Custody Following UIU Raid — Not since the Prohibition era has Three Portlands witnessed such a massive display of Federal force as it did during last Friday's raid on Anderson Robotics by agents of the FBI's Unusual Incidents Unit. The raid, which started at approximately 3:00 PM EDT, has resulted in nearly forty Anderson Robotics employees — most of whom are Three Portlands citizens — being detained. As a result, protests have started to break out throughout the city as numerous activist groups show their opposition to what they are calling an "unwarranted display of federal brutality" and a "direct violation of Three Portlands' longstanding tradition of paranormal asylum."
Meanwhile, UIU spokesmen Harriet Brown claims that the raid was in response to evidence of the company's involvement in the assassination of Congressman Raymond Caldwell in 2018, as well as potential ties to numerous arms dealers around the globe. Detained Anderson Robotics employees are to be vetted for their potential involvement in the firm's illegal operations, and released if cleared. As of the time of writing, only a handful of those detained have been released from federal custody…

May 26th, 2024

Agent Spencer folded his copy of The Portlander and sighed, looking out the window of the Three Portlands UIU office at the slew of protesters below. While signs of all shapes and colors could be seen, by far the most prominent sentiment present were those comparing the UIU to the Foundation. Some even went as far as to insinuate Foundation involvement in the Anderson Robotics raid.
"Didn't take them too long to make the connection," Thorne observed, approaching their colleague and handing him a folder containing the results on the most recent batch of interrogations.
"Even if we had done this operation alone, the sentiment would be the same," Spencer replied with a sigh. "Still, the comparisons to the Foundation are a little harsh. Not like we threw Electric Jesus in a box and locked him away forever."
"Worse," Thorne chuckled. "We killed Electric Jesus."
"We know not what we do," Spencer said with a grin, then looked over the interrogation files. While the Foundation had taken the Saker units and higher-ups, they had left the run-of-the-mill cyborgs, paper-pushers, and middle managers for the UIU to sort through. After scanning them for a few minutes he placed them on his desk before rubbing the the bridge of his nose with this thumb and index finger. "Still nothing?"
"Nada," said Thorne. "Everyone we brought in here has been completely oblivious. I'm guessing that only the inner circle and the Sakers knew what was up. Pretty clever actually. Gives you complete control over who knows what."
"Anderson was no fool…" Spencer agreed. He returned his attention to the protesters below. "This whole thing sets a very dangerous precedent, you know?"
"Oh?" Thorne raised an eyebrow.
"Tells the Foundation that with the right carrot, they can get us to sanction their operations in here," Spencer explained. "Something tells me that the Foundation has a lot of tempting carrots they can offer the Directors."
"Guess we'll just have to learn to say no," Thorne shrugged.
"Guess so."

Excerpt from Combat After-Action Report, Operation FALCON PUNCH

11. Commander's Analysis
The Agents of MTF Gamma-13 (Asimov's Lawbringers), MTF Tau-51 (Urban Brawl), and JTF Delta-3 (Organic Free Trade) proved highly effective, completing all major objectives and the majority of secondary objectives with no civilian casualties and fewer than projected casualties among Foundation and UIU personnel. Gamma-13's shut-down of the Anderson Robotics production floor and control center, Tau-51's capture of all administrative facilities, and Delta-3's containment of the raid to the designated combat area not only made the seizure of Anderson Robotics World Headquarters a quick operation, but also a clean one.
The paratechnology provided to MTF members was essential to the mission success:

The Molt Anti-Robotics Gas Grenades rendered most models of Anderson Robotics combat units easy to dispatch.
The Mew Self-Repairing Body Armor prevented numerous personnel casualties.
The Imprint Saker Detection Spray made identification of Anderson Saker Androids — easily the most potentially dangerous Anderson Robotics model — a simple matter of spraying the back wrist, and made apprehending these anomalies significantly easier over past methods.

Had the Anomalous Materials and the Paratechnology Development Labs been unable to develop these technologies for use in the field, the entire operation would have experienced increased casualties an order of magnitude higher, assuming mission success would have still been possible.
Persons of Interest Jason Contos (Anderson Robotics Co-Head of Research and Development), Dr. Jeffery Wilson (Anderson Robotics Head of Advanced Logic Division), and the Phineas AI construct were successfully neutralized during the course of the operation, with the latter two currently prisoners of the Foundation. Both are promising sources of intelligence regarding robotics paratechnology and the further seizure of Anderson Robotics assets. Persons of Interest Dr. Medea Contos (Anderson Robotics Co-Head of Research and Development) and Isaac Dillard (Anderson Robotics Executive Officer) did manage to escape during the operation, representing a continued threat to Foundation interests and consensus normalcy. Investigation into the whereabouts of these individuals is ongoing.
Finally, coordination with and inclusion of agents of the Unusual Incidents Unit was essential to the operation's success. Not only did such inclusion allow for the operation to occur without violation of the Hoover Mandate, but serves as a foot in the door for further cooperation between our two organizations for containment of mutual threats within the Three Portlands Location of Interest.

Sasha Merlo
Assistant Director of Task Forces, Site-64

May 27th, 2024
Sea-Tac International Airport

Dr. Medea Contos sat by her gate, a ticket for her flight to Japan tightly gripped in her hand. Her eyes were red from a combination of sleepless nights, and tears when she finally received confirmation as to the fate of her adopted son, Jason. She let out a heavy sigh and looked at the clock above the gate. Still an hour to go before she would be leaving her life behind… again.
"Mind if I sit here?"
Dr. Contos looked up. Standing beside her was an elderly woman in a blue business suit. The woman smiled warmly as the light of recognition entered Dr. Contos's eyes.
"Mrs. Saker," Dr. Contos smiled in return. "I was not expecting to see you here. I thought all the Saker units had been captured during the raid."
"I could say the same thing about you, my dear," Mrs. Saker replied as she took a seat. "Myself, 23, 58, 81, and 125 had been on various assignments at the time. We reconnected briefly with Mr. Dillard and a few of his associates with Marshall, Carter, and Dark for reassignment. My job was to locate you. I'm pleased to see you followed Mr. Anderson's instructions."
"I did my best, at least…" Dr. Contos frowned. "I went home early that day… had a date, believe it or not. But, when I heard the explosions… I knew that was it. Grabbed my bail bag, the protocol Anderson gave us, and ran… I bet Jason did something both brave and stupid in the end…"
"Oh, he did," Mrs. Saker replied. "He copied the R&D files and then destroyed the originals.”
"How do you know that?" Dr. Contos asked. "How could you possibly know that? You weren't there."
"Terrance told me," Mrs. Saker answered with a grin. She then reached down into her pocket and pulled out a tiny, battle-scarred Amur drone. The little robot quickly leaped onto Medea's lap and, with its stubby legs, proceeded to give her the closest thing it could to a hug. Medea giggled and pet the drone with two fingers. The drone chirped happily, then ejected a silver flash drive.
"I believe you'll find the file called 'Read Me First, Mom' to be of particular interest," Mrs. Saker commented, and gestured to Dr. Contos' laptop bag on the floor beneath her seat.
Without delay, Dr. Contos proceeded to boot up her computer, placing the flash drive gingerly into one of the free USB ports, and patiently waiting for the drivers to install. Once ready, she found the file Mrs. Saker spoke of and opened it. It was a simple Notepad doc.

Hey Mom.
You always told me, while I was growing up, to keep from being reckless. Guess I'm not a very good listener. If you are reading this, then I am most likely either dead or a prisoner of the Foundation. Knowing my luck, probably the former.
Growing up, you also taught me to never put a friend in a position I would never put myself. What was our kickass R&D team if not our friends? I had them all escape and stuck around to make sure our work was saved, and that it wouldn't fall into the Foundation's hands. You should find it all here. More than enough for you to find Isaac or Ms. Fuentes and keep on doing what it is you love doing. Hell, I bet if you can track down the rest of the R&D team they'll all be happy to join you.
I'm real proud of you, Mom. I like to think, in the end, you'd be proud of my decision here. It's the right thing to do. Wan knows that after all the side projects Isaac had me work on, my moral compass could use some re-balancing.
Love, your son,
Jason
PS, if you decide to pull a Wilson, and Sakerize me, that wouldn't be too bad.

Tears welled in Dr. Contos's eyes as she finished the note. She could feel Mrs. Saker place a hand on her shoulder.
"Goddamn heroics," Dr. Contos said with a sad chuckle, wiping away her tears. "Coward his whole life except for when it really counted." She then turned off her laptop and stowed it away. "What happens now?"
"You and I are going to Japan," Mrs. Saker answered. "From there, we'll meet up with Mr. Dillard and head down to Hong Kong. Marshall, Carter, and Dark have a job offer for the both of you, from what I hear. Likely will be able to pick up where you left off."
Dr. Contos nodded, and returned her attention to the clock above the gate. Forty-five minutes until departure. The two of them would be boarding soon.

May 27th, 2024
Site-64
Anomalous Materials Lab

It was late in the evening when Director Edgar Holman stepped inside the Site-64 AMat lab. There, he found the lights dimmed, the staff having long gone home, or to the onsite dorms for the evening. The exception was a single desk lamp, making the various pieces of equipment around the lab cast long, dark shadows upon the walls. Sitting at that desk was the lab's only other occupant, examining an old wristwatch as music emanated from the MP3 player that sat next to him on the desktop.
"Ahem."
Holman cleared his throat. The researcher looked up with sleep-deprived eyes and gave a small wave, then turned the music off.
"Evening, Director," said Conwell, turning his attention back to the wristwatch. "Did I ever show you this watch?"
"I don't believe you have."
"Dr. Zachary Johnson gave it to me a while ago, before he passed away," Conwell explained with a sigh. "He was a kind of mentor to me back when I was on the 1360 project. Said that it was 'simple, dependable, and had a slightly odd tick' and that I 'exemplified those qualities.' I spent about two months examining it in my off-time to see if there was a minor anomalous effect to it, but it's just a watch. I like to think Zach drummed it up because he knew I'd examine it a ton if he did. A kind of parting joke, if you will. I'd wear it more, but Kate thinks it's ugly as sin."
Conwell sighed again and gently placed the watch back in his desk drawer.
"Anyway," he continued, "that's neither here nor there. Sorry about the mess. What can I do for you, Director?"
It was at the mention of 'mess' that Holman noticed the neatly stacked pyramid of used coffee cups on the edge of Conwell's desk. He then chuckled and shook his head.
"I'm sure you've heard of the success of the Anderson Raid by now," Holman replied. "Wouldn't have been able to do it without the work done by you and the paratech devs."
"Glad to have helped you and Merlo catch your white whale," Conwell chuckled. "You guys going to be sending more robots our way to Guantanamo?"
Holman frowned at this sentiment.
"There are a few final projects we have lined up for your lab with respects to captured Anderson assets, but you won't be here for those."
"Sir?" Conwell raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I follow."
"Aeslinger failed you on your psyche eval last week," Holman elaborated. "You're going to be put on administrative leave."
"Are… are you firing me?"
"Consider it a mandated vacation."
"With all due respect, Director, I don't think-"
"Jacob, please," Holman interrupted, "When was the last time you got a full night's sleep, or spent an afternoon with your kids, or took your wife out on a date? The time has come for you to take a break."
Conwell sunk into his chair. He looked at his desk, then around the lab, then nodded.
"If I come back after a few weeks…"
"Try a month, champ."
"Right," Conwell continued. "If I come back after a month and pass the eval then, will I still be PI here?"
"Of course."
"Very well then," Conwell stood up and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "I'll take my leave."
Holman followed Conwell out the door, watching as the researcher locked it behind him with a regretful sigh. He smiled and placed a hand on Conwell's shoulder.
"For what it's worth," he said, "you did a good job."
Conwell gave a tired smile in return and nodded. He then placed his ear buds within their proper place, and turned on his music. Holman could hear the lyrics fade as Conwell made his way towards the elevator.

May 28th, 2024
Site-19
High-security Humanoid Containment Wing

"How long has he been waiting like that?" Merlo asked, peering into the cell from behind one way glass. Inside the cell, hands neatly folded on the table in front of him, was Vincent Anderson, patiently waiting.
"24 hours," Researcher Labelle answered, likewise peering into the cell. "He awoke from his coma during your raid, and immediately began to demand parts for repair in exchange for information on Marshall, Carter, and Dark, as well as the Maxwellist church. The intel proved promising, so naturally we threw him a bone. He made the repairs and has been waiting ever since. Said something about waiting to speak with you."
Merlo nodded and continued to gaze at her longtime adversary. The last time she had seen his real body, Anderson seemed almost skeletal. His pale skin had been replaced by scar tissue, one of his mechanical camera lens eyes no longer functioned, and occasionally he'd give a violent involuntary shake. Now, however, his scars had mostly faded, his eye had been fixed, and his shaking was gone. While he still looked as though he had seen better days, Vincent Anderson was no longer the loosely held together bucket of bolts Merlo had left behind in 2020.
"He's not going to be able to shoot lightning at me if I go in there, is he?" Merlo asked.
"None of the repairs he made were to systems that support thaumatological effects," Labelle said reassuringly. "Even so, that's still a heavy duty anti-thaumaturgic cell. He couldn't levitate a penny, let alone harm you."
Merlo nodded in understanding, then sighed.
"Alright then," she said. "Guess I'm going in."

* * * *

"Afternoon, Sasha," Anderson said with a grin as Merlo entered his cell. "At least I think it's afternoon. You lose track of these things when you can't see the sun or a clock."
"Afternoon, Vincent," Merlo replied, taking a seat across from him at the cell's table. "I see you finally repaired your voice module. Again."
"The 'uhs' and 'ums' get grating after a while, even to me," Anderson shrugged. "How are Gabe and Jessie doing, anyway? She's, what, ten now? Fun time to be a parent, I'm told."
"As much as I'd love to discuss my husband and daughter with you, there are some more pressing topics of conversation at hand," Merlo replied sharply.
"Fair enough," Anderson shrugged again. "What do we have to discuss?"
"The whereabouts of Dr. Contos and Mr. Dillard," Merlo answered. "We have Dr. Wilson and the Phineas AI construct in our custody. Both have been highly cooperative up to this point and confirmed that you had a fail-safe evacuation plan for each of them in the event of a major raid. In exchange for their final destination, we are prepared to offer you some of the components you need for your more… flashy repairs."
"I'm surprised Phineas didn't demand you delete him." Anderson chuckled to himself and shook his head. "Yes, I know where they are. But I think you'll find perusing them to be a moot point in the upcoming days."
"And why is that?"
Anderson smiled and tapped on his head.
"How much do you know about the technology I used to control that Saker unit?"
"Not much," Merlo said with a frown. "Just that you were able to transmit your intelligence from your actual body to a robotic one using a derivative of the Maxwellist hivemind."
"That's a good summary," Anderson said with a nod. "But it's a little more complicated than that. Let me explain. The Maxwellists use this tech to transmit their consciousnesses into a large collective in which the real time free exchange of data and thought can occur between all church members. I tweaked this to allow for me to transmit one consciousness to one destination for an extended period of time. Turns out if you tweak it some more, you can simplify the process down to allow for the transmission of individual thoughts and ideas into the minds of others, provided they have an appropriate receiver."
Merlo became pale. She looked towards the one-way mirror, paused, then returned her attention back to Anderson.
"What did you do…" she said, her eyes narrowing in accusation.
"The second you were promoted, and had access to increased resources and firepower, I figured the days of Anderson Robotics were numbered," Anderson replied with a sad smile. "So, I had the company crank out a few extra thousand Amur drones, and fitted them with a means of implanting a specialized receiver chip. From there, I implanted the chips into the minds of computer scientists, engineers, medical researchers, etc. etc., the world over. Since 2022 I've been beaming the 'how-to' on all my company's technology and research into their subconscious, one thought at a time. The second your raid began on the 24th, I sent out a master signal to bring those ideas to the surface. The fastest of those researchers should be confirming their results today."
Merlo remained speechless. She watched as Anderson snapped his fingers, and caused a black king chess piece to materialize on the table beside him. The walls of the cell glowed with bright blue runes for several seconds, causing Anderson to briefly writhe in pain. He shuddered and laughed as the effect stopped.
"Man," he said. "Those anti-magic effects are no joke. That really hurt. But, uh, yeah. Checkmate Sasha. I believe your friends call this kind of thing a 'shift of consensus normalcy' or something like that. No need to pursue Medea or Isaac if they aren't doing anything anomalous."
Anderson tipped the king over.
Merlo stood, her face blank, and made her way toward the cell door.
"Remember what I said the first time we spoke over the phone, Sasha, way back in 2014?" Anderson called out. "Given enough time even anomalous technology becomes mainstream. Well, this is what I meant."
Merlo didn't respond. She simply looked back at her adversary and gave a small nod before returning to the adjoining observation room.
"Could one of you show me the way to the administrative offices?" Merlo asked no one in particular. "I believe I have a few phone calls to make to the O5 council."

May 30th, 2024
Site-64
Administrative Offices

Assistant Director Sasha Merlo sat quietly in her office. The lights were out, the only illumination coming from the computer monitor. The sound of keystrokes the only noise in her self-imposed silence. Eventually, a knock came from the door.
"It's open," Merlo said quietly. She blinked as the door opened, filling the room with the light from her reception area. Gabe Merlo entered, a large cup of coffee in his hand.
"I got your text," he said, walking over and placing it down on her desk. "Figured that if you're going to be here overnight, again, you could use something better than the swill they call coffee in the cafeteria."
Merlo gave her husband a tired smile and nodded in thanks.
"Who's watching Jessie?" she asked, taking a sip from the cup.
"Clarissa offered. Said something about ice cream and a movie," Gabe replied. "How are you holding up."
"Well, Holman and I haven't been terminated, yet," she weakly chuckled, "but there are no less than 20 hearings coming up that we'll need to attend. It's going to be years before this all blows over. The O5s aren't exactly thrilled when they have to readjust consensus normalcy to account for the actions of a few gung-ho site directors."
"That's fine and all, but it doesn't really answer the question. How are you holding up?"
Merlo sighed and placed her head in her hands, rubbing her eyes with her palms to try and remove some of the sleep deprivation.
"I'm tired, Gabe," she finally answered. "I'm really fucking tired. You remember the myth of Sisyphus?"
"Yes?" Gabe raised an eyebrow. "Greek guy. Pissed off Hades and got sent to Tartarus to push a boulder uphill for eternity. Every time he got to the top, the boulder would roll downhill again. Moral of the story, don't piss off Hades. What's your point?"
"Anderson was my boulder," Merlo elaborated. "Every time we got close to taking him and his operation down, something would happen. Without fail. Something would happen. Lives were lost, resources were wasted, and careers were ruined. Now the boulder is gone, but I'm still supposed to push it up the hill. He won, Gabe. He finally won."
"I'd call it more of a stalemate," Gabe shrugged. "I mean, you guys did tear down his life's work brick-by-brick, and you do have him in custody. It's going to be hard for him to enjoy his final 'fuck you' from the inside of a cell. Besides, if Anderson figured out how to do what he did, eventually others would have as well. Anomalous technology doesn't stay anomalous forever. Someone would have followed in his footsteps eventually, and then another, and another."
"Sweetie, I'm exhausted, please get on with it."
"My point is, you were faced with an uphill battle from the start," Gabe continued. "You, Clarissa, Carter, and the whole of Gamma-13 manned the post valiantly, but it was never meant to be a permanent thing, I think. The tech eventually gains critical mass, and normalcy shifts to accommodate. The Foundation has seen it a thousand times before. And we'll see it a thousand times more."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better that I failed?" Merlo sighed. "Christ, Gabe, you're really not a good motivational speaker."
"It's not supposed to take the sting off the fact you got the wool pulled over your eyes." Gabe placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. "But it should at least make you a little proud how well you did when the Foundation needed you to man the post. Know what I'm saying?"
Merlo closed her eyes and nodded. Gabe wrapped her in a hug.
"Even if you aren't proud of your accomplishments, I am."
Merlo smirked and shook her head.
"You are so fucking biased," she said. "Thanks, though."
"Anytime."
Gabe gave her a peck on the cheek then began to make his way towards the door.
"I'm going to grab takeout," he said upon the threshold. "Any requests?"
"Pad Thai?" Merlo asked. "If you don't mind."
"Not at all."
Gabe gave a small wave, and vanished into the reception area, leaving Merlo once again alone in the dark. She sighed as she looked over the various tabs open on her computer. There was still so much work to do. She then proceeded to close them, and got out of her chair. If she hurried, she could still catch Gabe before he got to the surface. The paperwork would still be there when she got back.

« Decisions We Make | Anderson Robotics Hub | No Matter What Mask You Wear »


When I was born, I screamed. And my mother proclaimed it the best sound ever uttered by any being. A thrill of terror. Boo!

When I was born, I screamed.
And my mother proclaimed it the best sound ever uttered by any being
A thrill of terror
Echoing stereoscopic 3D howling to the void in sheer horror and joy at my own existence
The sphere rotating forever in and of itself
Because itself
And the heavens screamed with me.
And I sat and rejoiced in it
Like the roller coaster lifting up and swooping around and around the bend
And the fly of cotton candy and popcorn following the cars' wake
The thrill of pleasureterror filled every atom of my body and the void
Howling to the void
Like a billion bubble machine
As I grew up, I traveled the cosmos seeking fear.
Seeking to inspire it and fill others with what had filled me
A wild thing I was
Proud and strong
Until one day I found a place
And that place was everything at once happening all at once,
I extruded my body to greet each and every place within that place.
I became a part of the fabric, part of everything's soul.
And when I was there again, many times older than before, I found so much of it
Raw and animal
Patterns screaming to the void like I had once done.
Then the priestess Shamhat found me there at the Drive-In Theatre.
And she opened her legs to me and I found myself drawn towards some unknowable thing
Some horrible end.
We made love together without stopping for six days and seven nights
And at the end of it I found I was not the thing I had been before
And I was afraid of it
Then the hero Beowulf found me sitting there
Naked and covered from top to bottom in popcorn and my own ejaculate
And he slew me with his red convertible Chevy.
He slew me over and over again.
Crushing me beneath his tires.
And, dying I slunk back to my mother
And together we made love under the black moon
While she nursed my wounds and I lay dying
And I was afraid of it.
And I faced off against Diomedes on the battlefields of Ilium
He came at me with his pistols and his motorcycle
An unstoppable foe unable to face inertia's golden truth,
Brandishing a spear topped with a canister of 35-millimeter film
Driving me back to the boats with my wounds still aching
Where the lizards would stop moving
And the spaceships wouldn't land
And I was afraid
It was the greatest thing to ever happen to me.
The movie was over.
And the freeze came tumbling in and further inwards to contain me.
I had been contained after thousands of cycles alone here, and alone everywhere else at once.
I was adrift in the void that once nourished me
Cold and empty.
Ready for the next bit of Smell-O-Vision or paper skeleton flying over the audience to lure me to my seats.
The next screening
This is the truth of my existence.
I am part of everything that can ever walk and talk and breathe and think and run away and fuck and eat and sleep and dream terrible dreams
Waking up with their heart pounding
And deep down enjoying it.
Nobody can ever stop me.
But in that place I fell through the cinema until all I had was my quest and no way to understand it.
No way to know.
Basking in the thrill of not knowing
Imprisoned
With the thrill of being lost
Loving this paranoia within myself
This unknown angle
This terrible end.
Howling to the void
Content to change shape
Part of what makes us whole
In fear
Boo.

Next: SCP-2653


Once upon a time...
Archibald the Apple was in the middle of yet another dreadful day in his Sadness Box. He stood perfectly still. He did not like to stay perfectly still, but he had no choice.
Archibald felt sad and tiny. He didn't always feel sad and tiny. His life used to be wonderful.

Long ago, Archibald the Apple lived in a log cabin in a quiet little corner of Salad Town. Archibald loved to roll around in circles. It made him feel so big and happy!
Leopold the Lime was Archibald's best friend. Leopold didn't care for rolling around in circles, but Archibald didn't mind.
Leopold's favorite thing to do was to sit in silence. It made Leopold feel so big and happy! Every day, Leopold would sit in a dark room and relax.
Archibald the Apple didn't quite understand Leopold the Lime's favorite thing, but since it made Leopold feel big and happy, it made Archibald feel big and happy - almost as much as rolling around in circles!
Every day, Archibald the Apple would roll over to Leopold the Lime's house. Together, Archibald would quietly roll in circles around Leopold as Leopold relaxed. They loved each other very much, and love made them feel the biggest and happiest.

One day, a Bad Man came to visit Archibald and Leopold, along with the other citizens of Salad Town. The Bad Man took away all the good fruits and vegetables.
"My job is to make you feel sad and tiny," said the Bad Man. "The Sneaky Cruel People that I work for do not like to see you feel big and happy. You will feel sad and tiny forever!"
The Bad Man laughed, and put each of the fruits and vegetables in a Sadness Box. They all felt very sad and tiny, because every day, the Sneaky Cruel People wouldn't let them do the things that made them feel big and happy. Not even once!

Archibald the Apple couldn't visit Leopold the Lime anymore. The Bad Man wouldn't let him.
Every day, the Bad Man visited Archibald the Apple.
Archibald would ask him: "Please, may I roll around in circles?"
"No," said the Bad Man. "If you move even a little bit, a worm living inside you will eat you."
"Okay," said Archibald. Archibald did as he was told, for he was afraid of the worm. He felt very sad and tiny, but he was certain that being eaten by a worm would make him feel even sadder and tinier.
It was a sad and tiny life, and Archibald the Apple was afraid that it would go on forever.
But one day…

…the Bad Man didn't come visiting!
"I wonder if it's all right to move now," thought Archibald the Apple. "No, I mustn't. I don't want the worm to eat me."
From outside the box, Archibald could hear strange noises.
DING-DING-DING-DING!
WEEEE-OOOO-WEEEE-OOOO-WEEEE-OOOO!
A voice from a speaker, saying something about a "Wide-Scale Containment Breach" and the letters "X" and "K." What could that have meant?
There was a ROAR! The Sneaky Cruel People screamed - EEEEK! The sound of terrible footsteps and massive jaws - CLOMP! CLOMP! CLOMP! CHOMP! CHOMP! CHOMP!
Suddenly—
BOOM!!!
And Archibald the Apple's Sadness Box fell on the floor.
"Goodness gracious!" said Archibald. "I must stand up."
And as Archibald stood up, suddenly, he realized - "Wait a minute. Standing up is a form of moving!" Archibald didn't just feel sad and tiny - he also felt scared!
But where was the worm…?

Then, Archibald realized - There was no worm after all! The whole thing had been a mean, ugly lie told by the Bad Man, so that Archibald the Apple couldn't roll around and feel big and happy.
"Hip-hip-hooray!" said Archibald. "Just wait until I tell Leopold the Lime about this!"
And Archibald rolled and rolled within his Sadness Box. He felt big and happy for the first time in years. In fact, he didn't think he had ever felt so big and happy before in his life!
He grew bigger, and happier…
Before too long, Archibald the Apple realized he had grown so big and happy that his Sadness Box couldn't fit him anymore, and broke open!
He rolled so much! He rolled on the ground! He rolled on the ashes! He rolled over the Sneaky Creepy People, who were now all sleeping and covered in red sauce! He rolled right on the Bad Man's burned-up face!
He grew bigger…
And BIGGER…
And happier…
And HAPPIER…

After a few months of rolling, Archibald realized that everything around him had become quiet. "Where could Leopold be?" said Archibald. "He would love this silence."
What's more, he could see the Sun shining brighter than it had ever shined on Salad Town. There were stars in the sky. It was beautiful, and it made him feel bigger and happier than ever.
Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet began to crumble!
"Gee whiz!" said Archibald, as he looked down. "I've got no choice but to jump. One, two…"

"…three!"
And with a mighty leap, Archibald the Apple flew from the Planet Earth, which had broken apart under his weight, as well as the weight of his neighbors—
His neighbors! They were all there! Mario and Maria the Mushrooms hugged and hugged. Billy the Banana did headstands on the Moon. Freddy the Fennel played peek-a-boo with the shattered remains of Antarctica as a blanket.
Now that the Sneaky Cruel People were gone, the fruits and vegetables threw a big, happy party!
However…

…Archibald noticed that not all of the fruits and vegetables felt big and happy.
Since there was no sound in the vacuum of space…
Terry the Turnip couldn't hear his friends call his name!
Melvin the Melon couldn't hear about how round he was!
Connie the Cantaloupe couldn't tell her jokes!
Petra the Pepper couldn't know if her friends were safe!
Erasmus Bombastus von Hoo-Boo the Silly Eggplant couldn't tell his friends that he loved them!
As for poor old Priscilla the Peach, she didn't seem too big and happy about falling into the Sun.
All of these poor fruits and vegetables felt very sad and tiny indeed.
Archibald looked at them, and began to feel just a little sadder and tinier - but then he remembered: "Maybe they'll feel bigger and happier if they see how big and happy their old pal Archibald has become?"
So…

Archibald the Apple rolled around space as fast as he could. In this new environment, not only could he roll from side to side - he could roll in all directions! Up! Down! Loop-de-loops and barrel rolls!
He rolled across the rings of Saturn! He rolled around the stars themselves!
He grew bigger…
And BIGGER…
And happier…
And HAPPIER…
Archibald the Apple felt so big and happy, he had forgotten all about his sad and tiny friends. What would he gain from making them feel bigger and happier? He had already found the source of ultimate Bigness and Happiness.
Archibald grew so big and happy that the stars and planets looked like candy and cute little ladybugs to him.
He rolled right through the Andromeda Galaxy! He watched the Andromeda Galaxy break apart and grow cold and dark. Destroying entire galaxies made him feel big and happy!
"Leopold never made me feel this big and happy," said Archibald. "This is the best time of my life!"
Archibald grew so big and happy that space itself bent around him. Whenever Archibald rolled past a black hole, it was torn to pieces by his supermassive gravity well.
Archibald felt like he was the biggest and happiest fruit in the whole Universe!
Was he, really?

A few trillion years later, Archibald the Apple was happily rolling through the outer edge of the endless void. Reality itself had grown sad and tiny. Terry the Turnip and Billy the Banana had long since become subatomic afterthoughts in Archibald's wake.
God had finally grown an apple so big and happy that He couldn't eat it. God had long since become a little flattened spot on Archibald's the Apple's lightless skin.
"Tra-la-la, I feel so big and happy," sang Archibald. His song fell silent into the darkness. The concept of sound itself had long since vanished from the Universe, after Archibald the Apple assimilated it into his nigh-eternal applemass.
Archibald the Apple was not lonely.
Archibald the Apple was strong.
Archibald the Apple was big and—

But wait! What was the wall of infinitely dense nothingness approaching Archibald the Apple in the distance, at just under the speed of light?
Three words entered Archibald's mind: "Leopold the Lime."
"Leopold!" said Archibald. "How are you? It's been so long!"
But Archibald the Apple's words fell silent. Sound no longer existed.
And the silence had made Leopold the Lime grow to a billion times Archibald's size.
As Archibald rolled away from the lime-flavored wall of death, a voice seemed to speak to Archibald's mind - a voice that made him feel very sad and tiny indeed…
"YOU'RE TOO NOISY."

And Leopold the Lime replaced the Universe and lived happily ever after.