☦A collaborative writing game that is currently on hiatus. Please get in touch with Decibelles or Agent Macleod if you wish to continue it.☦

Welcome to the 3rd edition of And Then I Died…, an SCP collective writing game! Useful information is held behind a collapsible tab right here:

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Whoever guesses an entry correctly first (more on that below) will pick an SCP to write a mini-tale about (200 - 500 words). If someone doesn't want to write, they shouldn't guess. The entry needs to be written within 72 hours (3 days). If it doesn't happen, the second person to guess correctly will be given a chance to write an entry. This continues until no one else has guessed, in which case, the judge will step in and write an entry for the person based on the SCP.
The character "speaking" must die at the end and the entry must end with "And then I died.". It might not be from the SCP in question, so long as their exposure caused it somehow.
While not required, a few red herrings are definitely encouraged, so long as the final solution is the most likely/most obvious answer. The answer doesn't need to be obvious, but it definitely has to be guessable, or at least have something clear about the connection to the answer at hand.
There are three days for guessing. There's a 24 hour wait time before the guesses are revealed (if someone guessed correctly in that time), to collect the guesses made. Otherwise, two additional days are allowed for guessing, for a total of three days.
If no one guesses the SCP after three days, congrats to the author! They can write one more.
If someone is writing an entry, they should send a message to all of the judges so the judges can know what the SCP in question is. Judges can help for proofreading, though do note the judges will tell you if you're potentially being too obtuse, or veto your entry if you're abusing the rules to get away with no one guessing. The judges, then, can't actually guess or give the game away.
If you've guessed right before and you guess correctly, your answer will be put in a lower priority than any other correct guesses. This is to prevent people from writing multiple times in quick succession and leave no room for other guessers.

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Looking for the old entries? Click right here and here for some excellent reads! Answers are included at the end of each entry. Have fun reading, guessing, and/or writing!

Rounds 1 - 20

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Round One: Decibelles
It's late out, cold, and I'm hungry. Though the drunkenness is starting to wear off somewhat, I'm already regretting how much I had to drink in the first place. Maybe if I wasn't insistent on trying to act like a fucking idiot to impress Sarah, I wouldn't be stumbling back in the dark.
Though, the farther out I head towards home and on this path, the more lost I think I'm becoming. Shit. I probably shouldn't have taken this shortcut when I can barely feel my way around. Not like it's the deep woods, though. Worst comes to worst, I can sleep outside. Maybe under a tree or something.
I'm feeling relieved as Hell to find an exit, at least. It's an open field, but I think it's in the general direction of home. Probably another half-hour and I can collapse and watch some news. Though… wait. There's some person up ahead. And holy shit… they're not hanging, are they? They look like they're jerking around like Hell.
"Hey, buddy! Are you alright!? You still alive? Hold on a sec, I'm… I'm gonna come getcha!"
I stumble my way over there, going as fast as I can. I dunno who the poor fuck is, but I gotta get them down. Probably call the police too. I'm really hoping I'm not too late, and I can get them down and call the police.
Something's rushing towards me just when I get halfway there. I can hear it growl. Growling's not good. I don't want to get caught by that. I turn and run as fast as I can, away from that thing growling and snarling and barking. Please God, please, let me live. It was just a dumb mistake to get drunk, I wanna live.
I feel it pouncing on me, and I fall to the grass. It starts to tear at me.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round Two: DreamwalkerFae
Ah, such kind children. So sweet of you to help me patch up the old place. Here, why don't you have some food. No, no, no trouble at all. I only need a little anyway, and I know how hungry you get. Yes, yes eat up. We can't have you losing your strength now can we?
Oh, you poor little thing. Here, let me see. Ah, that is quite a nasty cut, but I know what will help it feel better, just come with me to the kitchen and we'll get you a glass of nice, cool milk. That's right, drink it all. There we go. See? Already starting to heal up.
Oh, that must be pest control. Apparently, the neighbors have been hearing some kind buzzing. I'm sure that it's nothing, if we had a bug problem I think I would have noticed by now. Now, you children make sure to be on your best behavior and to stay out of their way. Yes, come in gentlemen, thank you for coming. The attic's right this way…
Wait! No! What are you doing?! GET AWAY FROM THOSE CHILDREN! GET AWAY! STOP! LEAVE MY CHILDREN ALONE! GET AW-
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round Three: MrAnakinSpecter
It was maybe seventeen minutes since the rain started. It was cold and wet and poured down hard. There was no warning when it came, so I wasn't ready for what happened.
I had been playing by the churchyard were my parents were wedded before the storm. Pa went into town so he could visit with Mrs. David Planter like he did every Wednesday while Ma was busy having her private prayer sessions with Reverend Bekket. Going into town was fun because I only got to go with Pa on Wednesday and with Pa and Ma on Sunday to church. Pa was always really stressed about his business with Mrs. David Planter and didn't want Ma to worry, so I needed to keep it a secret.
Pa wouldn't be back for another couple hours, so I busied myself picking flowers in the churchyard. Mr. David Planter worked in the churchyard, so I wasn't surprised when I saw him. He called me over, but my clumsy feet slipped and I tumbled right into Mr. David Planter's work. I must've hit my head and blacked out for a long while, because Mr. David Planter was nowhere to be seen when I woke up.
It was maybe seventeen minutes since the rain started and maybe fifty years since I went to sleep. The rain ran down the cheeks of all the stone angels and made them cry. I cried too — until the sun shined through those dark clouds. It was the most beautiful thing I ever had seen.
But the rain stopped.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round Four: sirpudding
I stood balanced athwart that high wooden path as the Duke's men came across the gap. By that dark mark across their backs I could see they were all of his house. I unlimbered my pollaxe and rolled my shoulders beneath my maille and tabard as I said, "Fools! If you continue on this course, it is naught but rank treason! You cannot but give strength to the infidel in this rebellion! Know also that I, Sir Bruce, will not let you pass lightly this day. What say you?"
"We are in the right, Sir Bruce. Duke Hugh has given insult that must be answered in blood!" said their leader, and I recognized him as Casper's cousin, Hector.
"So be it then", I answered as I lowered the visor of my bascinet.
With a mighty roar, the Duke's men gave charge. I was true to my word and made them pay dearly. With my pollaxe, and my broad frame I was able to force them to come one at a time. I was the better fighter, and a half dozen of them met their doom there. Alas though, fatigue and wounds sapped me and when Hector came upon me he struck me senseless with a mordhau from "Irontooth", his famous longsword. Dazed, I was no match in the grapple, and he threw me bodily into the abyss.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round Five: DreamwalkerFae
Finals week is always such a pain, which is why I'm glad that there's only one day left to go. Still, I'll need an energy boost if I'm going to get through all my last-minute cramming tonight. I quickly stop at the vending machine and punch in a random code, hoping for a soda with a high caffeine content.
Just as I'm about to leave the building, all the lights in the hall go out. They flicker back on after a few moments, but not before I manage to run into the corner of a table. Stupid school, they won't even pay to keep the lights working right.
I have to turn on the heater as soon as I get back to my apartment. It's not exactly unheard of, but it's weird that it's still this cold this late in the year. I sit down to study, but it's harder than usual. I keep getting this feeling that someone's watching me. Probably just me being paranoid again.
After about an hour of studying, I give up on trying to hold back my nasal congestion and reach for a tissue. I had assumed that it was just allergies, but the red stain on the tissue as I pull it away says otherwise. I groan at the distraction as I reach for another tissue to stop the bleeding. Must just be my dry sinuses.
I try to study some more, but it's impossible. I keep catching bits of movement out of the corners of my vision, and the creaking of the structure becomes impossible to tune out. I know that I'm being silly, that I'm just over-tired, but I move to close my bedroom door. As it closes, I see a shadowy figure standing behind me. I scream and turn around, but there's no one there.
I know that I'm not hallucinating at this point. There's someone else in the room with me. I can hear their whispers I can feel their cold hands on my flesh lifting me up they want me to come with them they want me to give them my heart
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round Six: Mister Ious
Man, it's cold outside. I swear I had put on my winter coat, but I'm somehow wearing my old vest. I thought I'd thrown this ugly rag out. Margaret? I'm home! Could you put some soup on? Thank you!
Huh. I thought I'd grabbed the remote, not my keys. Eh, I'm probably just a bit stressed out.
Thanks, Margaret, this smells wonderful. Love you too… Margaret, honey? You gave me a fork. No, it's alright, I'm sure you were just distracted. I've been a little distracted too, recently. Some new kid at work got the promotion instead of me, and I'm a little irritated by it.
Mmm, much better. Never underestimate the power of soup. Thanks again, Margie.
Uh, Margaret? I think I'm going to turn in early tonight. No, it's just that it's been a long day, like nothing has been going well for me. I also think I feel a cold coming on. Yeah, I'll probably feel better in the morning, but I gotta get a good night's sleep first.
God, I feel like crap. I'm gonna need some help getting to sleep.
Non-drowsy… non-drowsy… non-drowsy… Margaret, do we even have any cold medicine that won't keep me up all night? Oh. In the- right, okay, thank you… two pills for one night… man, those things hurt to swallow. I should have gotten a glass of water. Oh well, nothing for it now.
Wait. This was a box of cold tablets just a moment ago. What's… Stree… Strik… Strychnine?
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round Seven: Bryx
I broke out of the crowd on the dance floor, sweating in my silk. I hadn't realized that Aunt Myra could still move like that until the bouquet hit the floor. I chuckled at the picture in my mind as I sunk gratefully into the first seat I came to.
"Strawberry, milady?"
I turned and met Michael's eyes. He was holding a chocolate-dipped strawberry on a fork. I pushed it away.
"I'm already sweaty, Mike. The last thing I need is to get sticky."
He raised his eyebrows. "I don't see any sweat. I see a woman brimming with so much happiness that her skin is shining with it. A woman who happens to have been torturing herself for the past six months to fit into that dress."
I batted my eyelashes at him, mock serious. "Are you trying to seduce me, Mike?"
"I can't help it. I'm in love with you."
"I love you too, but I'm a married woman now."
"Where is he? I'll fight him for your hand."
"He's right… here." I'd intended it to be a quick kiss, but our lips had other plans. When we came up for breath, he said, "how about we share the strawberry?"
I nodded, put my hand on the fork, and leaned in slowly and bit. Bliss. I wanted to remember every part of this moment for the rest of my life. I felt the smooth metal in my hand, still warm from where Michael was holding it. I saw his eyes glowing with the same excitement that I was feeling. I tasted fresh strawberry and smooth chocolate making love in my mouth. I smelled his cologne mixing with my perfume, not quite managing to hide the scent of both of our nerve-sweats combined. I heard…
Screaming coming from the buffet table.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round Eight: DreamwalkerFae
I wake up strapped to a board, and someone just dumped a bucket of something cold and slick all over me. There's a chorus of shouts in the background. The cold liquid is dumped on me two more times, and each time raises another uproar from the surrounding crowd. Confused, I shout at my captors to tell me where I am and what is going on. I receive no response.
Panic rises in my chest as a man walks up to me and pulls a jagged black knife out of his robes. I scream as he jabs it into my left thigh and pulls it downwards. Next, he moves to my torso, managing to make five even cuts along my ribs on both sides. Next come the fingers on my left hand. He continues in this manner for what seems like an eternity. Each of his cuts seems measured, cold, and precise, in stark contrast to my wild flailing.
Once he is finished, the man picks up a chalice of some foul-smelling drink and takes a long drink from it. He then pours the rest on my chest, burning into my woulds even more. He sets down the cup, stretches his hands over me, and begins to recite a chant. As before, each of his actions seems deliberate and precise, as if he must carry out this twisted ritual in perfect form.
"Mun-ti-ah-ak-met-su-ni-ah-bo-in-tec-nu…" His chant seems to be only beginning, but I cant fight the pain anymore, finally drifting off to my last moments of sleep.
And then I died.
And then I woke up.
What a strange dream. It mostly just seemed to be a dramatization of my life, before that last part. I know it wasn't real, but… something about seeing your whole life, then just seeing it end like that… What do I do with the rest of my life?
This question stays with me for the rest of my years. I'm never able to find an answer.
And so I grow old.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round Nine: Mister Ious
I love running.
The clarity of a starting gun being fired, the anticipation of a long race, the thrill of crossing the finish line…
It almost all ended when the drunk driver nearly killed me in broad daylight.
After the various surgeries were done, I was eager to get back to training, but my doctor told me that I had to wait several months before I could physically exert myself again.
I lasted four weeks before cracking.
I felt the breeze growing stronger as I picked up my pace, bringing with it the scent of new buds opening on the trees. It didn't really smell nice, though. It was weird. I used to love that smell. It was like I could smell it, but I couldn't smell it. Maybe I was going nuts.
Running somehow didn't seem the same. I couldn't feel the freedom, that release of stress I was used to. It wasn't right. It wasn't… anything, really.
I ran faster than I'd ever ran before, but I didn't get tired. I kept up a full sprint for almost the entirety of my run. But how?
My vision started to blur. I blinked quickly, but it only got more blurry. My body seemed to be telling me something, but I couldn't figure out what. I kept running, trying to find the comfort that I had known before, but I couldn't find anything. I couldn't feel anything.
My lungs gave out. I collapsed onto the road.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 10: sirpudding
Soldier of the Revolution! Arise in defense of the Motherland!
I blink the words out of my vision as my armor pumps the stimulants into my body and the memories of readiness drills into my mind. As I wake I hear that music and that stupid chanting, so we are still in combat.
"'Tasha, report."
"Comrade Viki, the battle outside isn't going well. Some kind of enemy pods have attached," she whispers.
"So prepare to repel boarders, huh?"
ATTENTION: All tactical teams, report to your stations and prepare to repel boarders.
She says, "Yes, comrade," without a trace of irony.
The enemy finds me before I make it to my station. Something shreds the bulkhead and this thing glides through. It's big; 3 meters at least, mostly tail, with these three huge arms on the front and one big cyclopean sensor bulge right in the center of the arms. It's wearing an armored spacesuit, or maybe it's a robot. I open up with the rockets and it misses me with some kind of plasma weapon. I hit one of those arms at the base, and it separates, spraying gooey fluid and meat. Not a robot, then.
On the radio, it doesn't sound like we are doing so good, and I try to report in, but I keep getting stepped on by some poor dying bastard.
Comrade Starshina Usov, belay your last. Report to deck 54 section Ж, unseal orders K-03, and carry them out with all due diligence in defense of the Motherland.
'Tasha gives me the map and I get to section Zhe. The walls here look like they are made from the shell of some huge bug and there's this big pulsating mass.
"All right, 'Tasha, give me those orders," and I'm able to remember one of those secret briefings they gave me. They say I'm supposed to cut open that big bag.
I read the graffiti:

The hive presents its finest soldier in order to repel all boarders.

"Huh? I guess the brass thinks it's worth trying," and I start cutting.
What comes out is very fast and I feel something hit me in the stomach. I smash into the wall and black out. When I come to, the music and chanting has finally stopped, but over the radio all I hear are screams. "Tasha, I can't feel my legs."
"That's because you are cut in half, comrade. I'm sorry but I won't be able to keep us alive for long. I don't think opening that thing was a very good idea."
"Heh. And they say you can't understand irony. Can you still work my arm? Does the cutting laser still work?"
"Yes, Viktor Vyacheslavich."
"Well, lets add a warning to this graffiti. Put it in binary, like the others. Maybe somebody in another world will be smarter than us."
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 11: Agent MacLeod
I never understood why all my friends made fun of my boyfriend. I mean, yeah, he was a little chubby and a little weird, but he was also very sweet. Plus, I liked how weird he was. I mean, aren't we all a little weird? He was nice to me, and we shared a lot of the same interests, so it made sense to me that I dated him. I mean, of the guys I've dated and I've seen my closest friends date, he had to be one of the nicest ones. No, scratch that, he was the nicest one.
The biggest problems are, he's a little goofy, and sometimes his romantic gestures end very poorly. I'm going to explain the worst such example of that second one.
He took me to the beach, where we bought ice cream at the boardwalk, when he leaned in to kiss me and accidentally got ice cream all over my shirt. I mean, we were at the beach, so I had a swimsuit top on underneath, but it was a white shirt and he stained it. He kept apologizing, and he tried to wipe it off, but it looked like he was trying to grope me, so he just kept making himself look worse. Or, that's how it looked in his own eyes, at least. I wasn't mad at him.
So we were walking along the beach holding hands, me in my swimsuit top and shorts, and him wearing his trunks and a t-shirt, saying sweet nothings and him trying to make up for his screwup at the boardwalk. I wanted him to just shut up and enjoy the beach, so I faced him towards me, closed my eyes, and leaned in for a kiss.
When I opened my eyes, the beach was gone. We were in a cold, moonlit forest. How did we end up in a forest? We were on the beach just seconds ago!!! I started to panic. So did my boyfriend. He kept telling me that I needed to take his hand. I wanted him to take me back. He said he didn't know what was going on either, but he really needed me to take his hand.
That was when we heard the children laughing. He tried to grab my hand, but he was rough, and I got scared, and I started to run away. The laughter turned into screaming, and there was something chasing me and —
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 12: CondorTalon
I'm sorry.
My knuckles go white as I grip the steering wheel harder, sweat collecting on my forehead as I pick up speed.
I'm so sorry, Jennifer. I'm doing this for you.
My other hand trembles, my phone practically glued to my ear. I can hear the whimpering of my sweet Jennifer over the phone, and my shaky resolve turns into a grim determination. Oh, my sweet Jennifer. Please forgive me.
This is all to keep you safe.
I can see the speedometer inch slowly more and more toward the far side, and I look forward, eyes on the horizon, fixed on one particular point.
I can vaguely hear sirens coming from behind me, and I realize, almost as an afterthought, that I'm breaking several traffic laws. Like I care.
At least Jennifer will be safe.
I see my target approaching fast, hear the voice through the phone.
Here I go. Jennifer… I love you.
The tires squeal and my stomach turns as I pull the steering wheel hard.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 13: ObserverSeptember
I sit down at the table in front of me. Why the hell are they all wearing those weird things over their eyes and I'm not? I don't really feel too good about this, but I don't really have much of a choice. I've lived a long while, and worse things have happened to me.
They put a book in front of me - weirdly enough, I can't even see the title; it's covered up by a bunch of weird tape. I try to turn it over to so I can see the title of the book, but they stop before I can.
"Please open the book to page 344," the woman behind me says.
344, huh? Alright, then. I open up the book, and…
Well, it's just a history book. Looks like I've pulled the page up to 1971. A few photos of the Battle of Brooklyn, along with a couple of the Ascended. I worked with a few of them when we were fighting against the insurgency. Nice guys, all of 'em.
I look back, and the woman seems alarmed. "Where is your arm?"
My arm? The fuck is she talking about? I lost my arm during the Second Battle of Hartle. Was pretty crazy, going through that hole after they expanded it.
"No," she says, "your arm was there a moment ago. It just disppeared."
No way. This lady is fucking crazy. Why the fuck would she say something like that? LIKE HELL it was there! I've had that goddamn stump for decades, and I'll be damned if I let some stuck-up egghead tell me I don't! I stand up and rush toward her, to teach her a lesson for talking down to me -
Then the guard shoots me.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 14: Thekillerax
It had been Nicole who had suggested that we go to the park that day. I had heartily agreed, if only to spend more time with her. We walked outside and settled down on a park bench, a feeling of contentment settling in my chest. We sat in silence, giving me a chance to think. Soon my thoughts were drifting back to a few weeks ago.
When Nicole had approached me, begging for forgiveness and a chance to stay with me, I almost slammed the door in her face. But I'd decided to grant her a second chance. As much as I had hated to admit it, those months without her had been some of the hardest I'd ever had to slog through. There'd been a hole in my chest, and no amount of porn could fill it. And now that she was back my life was more or less back to normal. I was happy, finally.
I was pulled from my reverie by an angry voice to my right. I looked over to see a man at least a foot taller than me towering over Nicole. Oh God, what was going on? Was this a mugging? Surely someone would do something! But all we got were concerned looks from passersby. I struggled to focus on what the man was saying.
"…for this guy? Are you fucking serious?"
Nicole simply stared at him, petrified. Mustering my courage, I opened my mouth, and for a horrible second no sound came out. "L-leave her alone!" I finally managed to squeak out.
"Funny," the man said, chuckling humorlessly. "That's what I oughtta be saying to you." His hand shot out and wrapped around my throat. He leaned in close and growled, "Jasmine is mine. Leave her the fuck alone."
Jasmine? This man was simply mistaken. He flung me back onto the bench and I gasped, desperately attempting to draw in enough breath to speak. Finally I managed to croak out, "Not Jasmine. Nicole."
But the man's expression only darkened. "Don't fucking lie to me, you little shit. I know my girlfriend when I see her." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Distantly I heard the panicked exclamations of passersby. It all seemed so far away. "I'm tired of your shit. Step away from Jasmine."
Sweat trickled down my face as I swung my gaze from the man to Nicole. Why wasn't she saying anything? I reached out my hand to comfort her, to try to coax some words from her. Too late, I registered the snarl of anger and the glint of the knife blade flashing towards me.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 15: Davsto
I walked through the forest. The red sky of dawn shone through the trees. The forest was lush and green, with moss growing up the trunks and animals everywhere. It was if no human had been here for years. I stopped to admire the reflection of the sky in a shimmering lake.
That lake.
Oh God.
I had to do it. Years ago. I was walking with a friend of mine, an old friend I'd known for years, and her son. I knew what I was going to do. I needed to do it. There was a struggle, a splash, tears, and then nothing but ripples on the surface of the water. I had walked away, alone.
I sat down with my head in my hands and wept as the memories came back to me and guilt overrode all my other emotions.
But I hadn't done it properly, had I? It hadn't gone quite right. And there was no-one here to do it with now. I ran and jumped, and felt the cold water stiffen my body and fill my lungs. I reflexively flailed, trying to escape. My throat tightened in the cold, and gradually my struggling slowed to a stop.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 16: sirpudding
He handed me my business card, I read it, and then we all got to talking.
"So, I went to high school in Minnesota."
"Yeah, that's right."
"I had a girlfriend named Stacy."
"Cindy."
"Stacy."
"Cindy was a girl I dated once, but Stacy and I were pretty serious through college."
"Yeah, I remember that."
"I hate bananas."
"Definitely."
"My dad worked at a factory."
"Yeah, a factory."
"Mom taught middle school."
"Kindergarten."
"Middle school."
"Kindergarten."
"She taught kindergarten for a couple of years, but then got a job at the middle school; seventh grade."
"Sure, that's right."
"My first job was a car wash."
"McDonalds."
"No, it was the Wash 'N Go."
"It was definitely McDonalds."
"I agree with me," I said.
"Same here," says another me and that's how it started.
It got pretty ugly there for a while. I vandalized their Facebook. They spread horrible rumors about me at work. I got some of them arrested.
Early one morning I woke up. My hands and feet were duct taped together and my mouth was taped shut. Some of them were there and started talking to me about that first job. Well, after I heard all the details, I remembered I was right and I totally had worked first at the Wash 'N Go.
And then I died.
(Unsolved!)

Round 17: sirpudding
"Well, it's been a pleasure", I typed, pressed enter, and then closed the chat window. Nothing to do now, but wait.
I took out my pill case and shook out a big pink hexagon with an "F" printed on it. As I reached for my glass of water, I changed my mind and tossed the pill in the trash. I'm not going to have to remember for very long, regardless.
I heard the door of the lab open. Somebody was loudly weeping nearby. A long orange furred arm holding a bottle poked in. "Zack, we were going up to the roof to watch. You wanna come? I've been saving this 60 year old single malt. No occasion more special than this", he said.
"Yeah, Jack. I think I will. Sounds better than sitting here and watching this duplicitous mutt."
Up on the roof, as I split the bottle with an orangutan, we watched a couple of people jump. Nearby, somebody was playing a violin and a couple was slow dancing to it. Then Jack pointed up, with a beatific expression full of awe and sorrow and I followed his finger. Up in the sky the stars were winking out as though a shadow were passing over them.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 18: rumetzen
The day had been good to us. Through a crack in the ice, we had been able to ambush a large group of prey, and gorged ourselves for the first time in months. The little ones, always eager to learn, had even managed to catch a few for themselves under our watchful eyes. Now, our bellies full, we drifted through the waters. My mate swam by, her song echoing through the sea.
A noise came from the side. Turning, I saw, in the distance, something large and white cutting across the surface of the water, a stream of bubbles trailing behind it. With a kick of my tail, a surged forward to get a closer look at this strange visitor. My mate called to me, nervous, but I ignored her and swam on.
The creature was like none other I had seen in these waters. Almost as long as I and several times as broad, the only part of it that moved as it swam was a small tail in the back. It swam slowly, and didn't turn or move away as I approached, as if it didn't even notice my presence. Curious, I swam up to give it a nudge.
And then I died.
(Unsolved!)

Round 19: djkaktus
After my parents split up, my mom and I moved to Kansas because her parents lived there. I love my nan and pap, but goddamn if it wasn't the most dull experience of my life. School hadn't started yet, I didn't know anyone in town, and my only familial relations were either working all the time or geriatric.
That's why I got the job at the restaurant. It was only a temporary gig, I figured a week or so, while I was waiting for a position to open up at the company my pap used to work at. He had some strings to pull and the job there paid better. My mom was supportive throughout the whole thing, told me I'd make friends pretty easily.
It was one of those old fashioned places, like you see in the movies? I think my mom thought I'd be making friends my own age, but that was a joke. Nobody who frequented that place was under the age of sixty. Pleasant enough people, though. I enjoyed myself there.
On my last day of work, they were doing some work on the front doors and had us closed for a few hours before dinner. I was cleaning the counter and noticed some kind of commotion outside. Didn't understand why anybody would want to make a big deal about it; it was only for a few hours.
I hear a crash from the back and saw that Julio had just collapsed on the floor. As I was running back to help him up, I eyed a container of bleach sitting on the shelf. I was thirsty, I realized, so I took a drink. Took a couple of drinks, actually, then passed it to Amy and she finished the bottle. Helped myself to a brick of soap after that. Can't tell you why.
Anyway, and then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 20: spacecadet
It's early in the day, I think, when the colonel comes in asking my authorization for the latest plan.
I don't really follow the details. And I don't really have to. At this point there's just enough left of my mind that I know how much of it is gone forever. The colonel is really running the show, because I can't. Even as a young woman our mission would have been an intolerable strain, and I haven't been young for many, many years. How old? At least twenty years older than the colonel, who himself would have been ordered to mandatory retirement under the old order.
I let my mind wander again as the colonel talks about Cernekov radiation this and anamolous semicrystalline condensates that. I go back to them. Back to my husband and children. I like best to remember the kids how they were in good health, not so much at the end. We tried to have more, of course.
The colonel interrupts my thoughts by asking for my formal approval. I make a noise that he interprets as assent, and sign the paper he presents. He tells me, as always, that this time he thinks we'll get the bastards.
I go back in my head to my family.
Soon even that becomes impossible.
And then I died.
(Unsolved!)

- Hide.

Round 21: Decibelles
We had sailed back from the Callahan-Willow Sector, from the galaxy previous. After several ordeals resulting in battered men in a battered ship, we were all relieved to head back into Earth's major port for repairs. A long journey was coming to an end, and maybe this time, we would be able to rest for a few months more before heading off again.
No sooner had we sailed near the Moon than we heard the calls from a barbaric sort of group. Their ship was approaching ours, and though they did not raise their weapons, they had put on an aura of intimidation, and the attempts to reach us via communications had left us thoroughly puzzled.
"Can you make it out, Captain?" the young lad questioned. I let the words flow through my ears as I looked through the references on-hand, trying to decipher what I could.
"It's some sort of ancient, near-extinct dialect. Given the language and the materials their ship are made out of indicates that they have been around for far longer than expected… and potentially easy to overcome." They had all looked at me with doubt and surprise in their eyes, but I know my men and their capabilities. It would be nothing for them, even in our condition.
We sent out two pods of men to their ship, and I had elected to follow them. The combined firepower we carried would most certainly prove to be enough to take down theirs, and we would return home with more than we had set out for. The brutes had even seemed to take no mind in us approaching and safely going onto their ship, despite the differences in technology.
As we approached the group waiting for us, it struck me that they were made entirely of some type of earthenware, one I had rarely been able to view up close at home. It was exotic, and the fact that they were animate no less… it made me lose my train of thought. There was no time to admire these wonders, however. As their supposed general finished speaking, I nodded to my right-hand shot, and he raised his weapon and blasted the man's head into pieces.
The next thing I felt immediately was a blade traveling through and out my stomach. I only had time to look down at it for a brief second before all sound and light drained from me.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 22: minmin
I begin to smell the incense and know that they've started for real. My eyes are blindfolded, but firelight peeks in through the edges. Though I can feel the weight of the ornaments in my hair - solid gold, no doubt - the cloth of the blindfold is rough, almost like tree bark. Idly, I wonder if they couldn't have at least prepared something more comfortable. At any rate, it's too late for complaining now.
The stone beneath me is cold, but not unpleasant. I trace the ridges with my index finger, feeling familiar patterns I'd only ever been allowed to see, not touch. The sensation is strangely underwhelming. Is this it? Can this be it?
Will they miss me?
There's a voice above me. It's not mom's or dad's. Drier. Older. I recognize it as the elder's, rising and falling in a gentle cadence of archaic syllables. I used to be scared of this when I was younger, clinging tightly to mother as the elder rolled his eyes and chanted and chanted and rocked back and forth. Yet today it is somehow familiar. Comforting. Perhaps it is the spirits at work. Perhaps it is the incense.
Even though my vision is mostly pitch-black, I can already see the scene in my mind's eye - the incense bowl should be above my head by now, about three hands up and slightly to my right. I can almost feel the worms, wet with river water and fat as tubers, as the maidens slide them into the ridges of the stone slab. They tickle my back and I almost smile, but control myself. It is very important to keep still during the ceremony, said father before we'd left in the morning. Be still like rocks on the river floor. Only then will the river accept you as one of her own.
We're proud of you, our child, added mother.
It's happening at last - the worms start to move over me, tentatively feeling for, then wrapping around my skin. The bag of keepsakes resting on my bare chest - mother even insisted I pack the comb - is also soon engulfed in the shifting wetness, which presses it into my skin and digs it into my ribs. I try to gasp for air, but find that my chest is too tightly restrained. Soft, damp appendages soon cover my face, and now I am unable to breathe at all. Somehow, I don't feel panicked. And despite most of my past few months leading up towards this moment, I don't feel ecstatic, either.
There is a sense of being lifted up, gently, reverently. I hear the sound of flowing water. My vision fades to white. Before I go completely, the soft damp coils around me seem to widen - not in size, but in a kind of presence. Is this what She feels like?
Yes, comes the answer from a thousand tiny teethed mouths around me. You come into good hands, little girl.
We protect you now.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 23: Agent MacLeod
Everything I'd ever done had been leading to it. Every sport I was in, from elementary clear through until then, every mile ran and every exercise out on the field. Every locker room pep talk, every touchdown made, every good and every bad tackle. All of the injuries. All of it had been leading to that.
That season had been one of our best in decades. Coach Simmons didn't say it, because he didn't want to jinx it, but I could tell he thought we'd finally make it. Things hadn't been the same since Coach Wilson went missing, or so I'd been told, but things had been looking up after a decades-long losing streak. Sometimes, it felt like the whole world was conspiring to prevent us from getting to the Sugar Bowl.
And then, at that moment, I had the ball, and I… Oh my god, I was almost miles ahead of the guys from the other team. There was only one play left in the game, and we only needed one touchdown to get ahead and put us on the fast track to the Sugar Bowl. My heart was pounding, and my feet flying. I'd never felt this way during a game before. I knew I was going to make it.
I ran just a few more yards and crossed into the End Zone. Touchdown. We'd won. We'd finally made it. We were going to the Sugar Bowl.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 24: Amuness Creeps
I rose out of the ocean. I escaped all of my fears and troubles. The surface was not as bad as the deep, dark ocean. I finally escaped. I drowned. I was supposed to die.
In the distance, I found a light. I swam towards that light as fast as I could. I was completely dizzy and my lungs were filled with sea water. But, I don't care. In the mist was a light and it was the only thing I could see.
This house…was it my house? No. I quickly entered the house and slammed the door. I couldn't hear it. It must have left…
"Honey!" my mother said behind me. I looked at her and she looked at me. "Listen, you've been out for hours! We're gonna have a small party because you're relatives are here!" I looked into the living room. She was right. They waved at me. I waved back.
"Mom, r-really I um…I need to change out of my clothes."
"Of yes of course!" she said. "It's been raining for hours!"
"N-no mom I…"
This was too weird. I got out of there and I headed up to my room. I heard something breathing behind me as I went up the stairs. A loud breathing and grunting. Aggravated grunting. I turned around and saw a man. He was completely burned and his bones were showing through his skin.
"Mom!" I yelled.
"Yes honey?" she replied.
"There's some man here and…wh-what is he?! Mom, who is this guy!?"
"Oh that's Peter, Sweety! He's here to have dinner with us!"
He screamed like a demon at me. I noticed that he was trying to come towards me. "Stay back!" He screamed much louder and he ran towards me, screaming.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 25: BOXER9999
It was dark. The stars shone dimly through the clouds that enveloped the skies around my ship. A glance to the side window of the control cabin revealed the whirling Pacific ocean under me.
I just had recorded my last words, the only archive which will speak of my effort fighting the enemy. My soon to be death did not bother me though. No, it was the fact that I had failed my mission that really saddened me. I had failed and my enemy will continue to terrorize earth.
Again and again, I had tried to destroy my nemesis. Half a century after the beginning of my mission and I had stayed at the same point. Oh things had changed of course. The crew for example; once they were all like me, men made of flesh and blood. But now they were things resembling the enemy in almost every way. But my superiors had told me that the appearance of the crew wasn't my business, and I always followed all my orders and so I stopped thinking about these strange companions.
As my mind slipped in and out of consciousness a vague memory stirred through my mind. It had been a cold night very much like this one. He had encountered a few strange flying vehicles with which he was trying to communicate. But then his enemy appeared attacking my vessel and destroying a couple of the strange ships. However the strange vessel who did survive helped defeating the enemy that day; the serpent had fled their combined firepower. A smile crossed my lips as I recalled that encounter. It had been a good battle, and a worthy ally. But soon my grim demeanor came back as I remembered what was my task today.
Standing up from my chair, I felt the feeling of exhilaration I always had when looking at my vessel's command board. Then I slowly walked to my living quarters, there I looked for a moment at the objects who brought back my memories: the picture of me with my old crew mates; the one we had took on V-day.. On the walls my old stuffed hunting trophies hanged, while my trusty navigation maps lay on the table.. Then slowly, as I regarded these remains I calmly took my weapon and pointed it towards my head.
No, I suddenly thought. This is not how I will end. At first thinking hesitantly, my thoughts quickly resolved what I wanted to do.
First I broke my weapon with my hands; I thought I had heard once that when disbanded a soldier shouldn't give away his weapon. Then I calmly went back to the instrument board, sitting on my command chair in which I sat, staring at the dark night.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 26: sirpudding
"What a beautiful day for a war!" I said, laughing. "Have some of the umbidvo wetintsanga, please. After we conclude this you gentlemen simply must stay for the Reed Dance, as my guests."
"I would be delighted, Your Majesty," said Cardinal Langa.
"Unfortunately, I won't be able to stay that long, Your Majesty", said Agent Bekker, "They need me to fly to the States to report on today's test. My sincere apologies."
"It is nothing, Kerk, I will send you an invitation for next year. I will insist upon it, in fact. I will tell them you work very hard and need a holiday," I said, slapping the man's shoulder, "They cannot refuse my request, after all, I am King. Well, let us get this over with so we can enjoy the rest of the day, eh? I have the document here. Agent Bekker, does this fulfill the requirements? Good! I will sign it then. And … there! Here, Your Eminence, as you can see I have officially declared war. I must now ask for your immediate surrender, with no conditions, other than that you admit defeat."
"Thank you, Your Majesty. As you can see, I have been empowered by His Holiness to negotiate on his behalf in this matter, and I officially surren … Your Majesty! Are you well? Are you choking?"
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 27: minmin
The motor died on the 24th. The radios went soon after. Then the generator sputtered to a stop as the fuel ran out, and we drifted silently in the moonlit sea.
It was four in the morning on the 26th when Skipper woke me up. "Jo, Jo, you have to see this." I follow him blearily to the hold, sallow torchbeams lighting our way. There is a trickling sound of water. He squats down and shows me the source: a small, perfectly circular hole has been punched in neatly about two inches above the floor. The edges aren't ragged - they bend in smoothly like butter. Skipper turns to me with a worried look on his face. "Well? What do you think?"
"I think we should patch this up," I tell him nonchalantly. I don't bring up the fact that directly across the room, a round, black mark has been burnt into the wall. I inspect it when Skipper leaves to find his tools, and find that it's still warm.
We find several more over the next few days. They're always small, always impossibly round. Skipper tries to set up a shift system, both of us keeping watch on the hold, but it never quite works out. Meanwhile, I busy myself most of the time trying to get the radio to work. It remains dumb, taunting us with the occasional burst of static.
It happened on the 31st. We're down to our last box of batteries and Skipper goes to check the hold again to find some to salvage, when we both hear a sharp cracking sound. It's coming from portside. I run over and peer over the railings, only to see a bright beam of green arc from the sea and cut across the deck like a searchlight. Below me, strange lights rove in the deep. "Skipper! Get the lifeboat!" I find myself crying out. He's yelling too, but I can't make out the words.
There's another sharp crack. The floor beneath me lurches as more green arcs tear from the water and cut through the deck like hot wires through wax. I run for the lifeboat and in my panic, I almost think I see small grey fins and large, white eyes darting in the water. More lights. Crrrrrack.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 28: sirpudding
"Peace be upon you, my friend. I thank you for the generous hospitality of your home," I said.
"Think nothing of it, my motivations are entirely selfish. I intend for you to make me wealthy," said Luzio, laughing.
"God willing, this will make us both wealthy, my friend!" I said.
"Good news then, I went over the plans you sent me with my cousin the mason and we think we can build your irrigation channels without much trouble. Now that you have rested, we shall break our fast and then I would like to take you see the orchard. Are we agreed?"
"I am eager to begin, honestly. I did not come all the way from Kairouan to sit in your lovely home. Perhaps we can eat as we walk? " I replied.
"Khalid, you warm my heart with your eagerness to make me a wealthy man! Yes, I will have Donna pack up some bread and olives for us and we will set forth within the hour. Let me tell you, my blessed father might come down from Heaven and strike me, but I think being conquered by Saracen Ifriqiya was the best thing to happen to this city."
We chatted pleasantly as we walked north through the city, Donna Carmino's bread was delicious and warm and the fresh orchard olives juicy and piquant. We stopped at the basilica, so that Luzio could get a blessing for this venture, I made a note of the location of the mosque for evening prayers, and then we crossed the river.
Suddenly, Luzio turned to me and shouted, "What the hell? You baby-burning son of a bitch! How many innocent babes did you shovel into that brazen gullet, eh?" With a swift motion, he drew his dagger and stabbed me again and again in the road.
And then I died.
(Unsolved!)

Round 29: sirpudding
It was a fluke that I survived at all and that was likely to be temporary. The storm that had capsized me also drove me far to the south into the Antarctic circle. The boat righted itself, but the masts were lost, the radio hopelessly destroyed, and I lost the emergency beacon when I tried to use it, swept overboard.
I got the generator working at least, and I managed to keep warm and avoid hypothermia, but the farther south that I drifted the more likely that I would run out of fuel and freeze to death. At least it was summer and the days were long.
As I drifted closer to the Antarctic coast, I scanned the horizon for any sign of human activity, though the odds of having randomly drifted near one of the research stations in the whole of a continental coastline aren't great.
Then I saw in the distance, a dozen regular round shapes. Those had to be geodesic domes! I started to allow myself to hope. Even the current seemed to be on my side as it pushed me inexorably in that direction.
As I washed ashore, I fired off a flare. I had enough fuel to maybe keep me alive for a few hours. Exhausted, I fell asleep.
I was awoken by the sound of a helicopter, and I quickly scrambled outside, frantically waving at the circling aircraft.
Suddenly there was the crack of a gunshot.
And then I died.
(Solved!)

Round 30: Dexanote
I've just been feeling… better lately. It's hard to explain, I'm just… happier. I'm not so nervous or sad any more and I guess the world just feels better.
After moving out here, I got over myself pretty fast and got in touch with a couple of the clubs out in town. There's a lot of stuff out here, I had no idea. And the house is perfect for having little parties, the basement's almost finished and the den has a bunch of old- well actually it's not even that old, it's a little worn but it's perfectly good furniture. Even a pool table. Little too drafty though, I keep getting chills and the air's way too dry. The humidifier is working well enough but I really need to get the furnace replaced. I'll see if Bill can take a look at it tomorrow.
Oh, doorbell. Good. Work party tonight, just because. Couldn't resist, made a bunch of cookies and stuff - I actually just took up baking, I've been on a bit of a sweet tooth kick lately, getting really really good at it too. People love cookies, I've met tons of new people just bringing cookies every week to work. Bowling night's next Thursday, people will meet and warm up here before going out - it's a great central place.
Little tired, but that's alright… Oh, new faces. I wonder if they have time for a quick bite, the cookies smell great…
…
… They're yelling…
…
… Why am I so ANGRY?
…
… and then I died.
(Unsolved!)

Footnotes:

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In a lonely office at Site-64 sat a short young man with salt and pepper hair. Across from his desk was a casually dressed woman with neck length brunet hair tied back in a ponytail. Several old filing cabinets lined the back walls of the room, while the other walls were coated with a menagerie of motivational posters. The man was known as Researcher Fredrick Clayton. The woman was Agent Sasha Merlo. The individuals remained silent, their meeting stalled as they awaited a third party. So far, the waiting time was approaching half an hour.
A moment later, the door to the office opened, and a man dressed in a lab coat a few sizes too small with a thick layer of stubble on his chin entered. As he took a seat, he gave Clayton an enthusiastic grin.
“Greetings fellow Researcher,” he bellowed, “How shall we destroy the mysteries of the universe today?”
Clayton immediately looked over to Merlo. It was clear she was using every ounce of willpower in her possession to keep from breaking out in laughter.
“I take it this is Agent Navarro?” Clayton asked Merlo. His expression lacked joy.
“I am Dr. Science!” the man interrupted, “I was born with a test tube in one hand a thirst for knowledge in the other!”
“You know I have a daily report quota to meet, yeah?” Clayton sighed as he placed his head in his hands. “I really don't have time for this.”
“Where did you even get the lab coat?” Merlo chuckled, Navarro grinned as he took off the small coat.
“I just found it on the back of a chair in the break room,” Navarro replied. “Couldn't resist…”
Navarro then turned to Clayton.
“I was told you placed Jericho's thoughts on file?”
“Indeed,” Clayton said as he wheeled his chair back to one of the filing cabinets that lined the back wall. Carefully selecting a drawer, he opened it and removed several folders. “It took a while for Director Holman to provide the clearance for the drawer, but I was able to transcribe about four days' worth of thoughts before they stopped.”
“How is that even possible?” Merlo asked, “He can't just stop thinking.”
“It's not the first time this has happened,” Clayton sighed. “Either your man is dead or, more likely, he has an undocumented instance of these cabinets. If your name is on two cabinets simultaneously, both stop collecting the individual's thoughts. We believe it was a control measure created by the cabinet's original owners.”
“Was there anything useful in the thoughts you were able to transcribe?” Navarro asked, quickly grabbing the file from Clayton's hands.
“There was,” said Clayton, his lips curling into a smug smile. “Unless Jericho changed plans in the last two days, he intends to be present at a reopening ceremony for some historic hotel called The Templar here in Portland. A local sculptor named Tom Herring did an art piece that's going to be unveiled.”
Navarro immediately stopped reading the file and turned to Merlo. Both he and she shared the same pale expression of revelation.
“I'll get clearance from Holman!” Merlo said as she immediately got to her feet and made her way to the exit. Navarro quickly placed the file back on the desk and followed suit. Within moments the room had emptied of all occupants save Clayton.
“You're welcome,” Clayton said out loud as he watched the door to the office swing shut. With another sigh he then returned Jericho's file back to its drawer.

The Templar hotel had long since passed its heyday. As a speakeasy during prohibition, it had the good fortune of acquiring enough interesting history to warrant a full restoration effort. Now that the reconstruction was complete, many of Portland and Seattle's elite had gathered in the hotel's ballroom for an elaborate reopening ceremony. The ballroom's center piece, a large statue that had been requisitioned from an upcoming local sculptor, remained hidden behind a velvet curtain.
Agents Navarro and Merlo sat at a table in the corner. Having been provided with fake identities by the SCP Foundation, the two agents kept their eyes peeled for any signs of Jericho T. Hill. As the party around them unfolded, it appeared that their target was a no show.
“Gotta love these dead ends,” Merlo chuckled as she scanned the room. She was dressed in a black dress, her hair down from its usual ponytail.
“Absolutely,” Navarro snickered, his gaze focused on the curtain covering the statue. He was dressed in an uncharacteristically nice suit.
“I don't know what will be worse,” Merlo continued, “Explaining to Holman that this mission essentially boiled down into us attending a party, or telling the response team that they've been on standby for no reason. C'est la vie.”
Before Navarro could respond, two more individuals sat down at their table. One was a tall, pale woman in her mid-thirties with short black hair. The other was a muscular man in his early forties, with his long brown hair done back in a braid. Navarro recognized them as Jill and Tom Herring.
“You son of a bitch,” Jill hissed at Navarro. Both she and her husband shared the same hostile glare. “We'd never see you again. That's what we agreed on, Daniel.”
“Oh, hey Jill,” Navarro responded, “Nice to see you too.”
“What are you doing here, Dan?” Tom asked.
“Well, considering how this is a public display by a known anartist, I couldn't begin to guess.”
“You think Tom is stupid enough to pull that kind of shit?” Jill whispered.
“Everything's on the level Dan,” Tom added, “The Suits don't need to be here. You can leave.”
“We just need to see the statue and then we're on our way,” Merlo chirped in.
“Is she a Suit too?” Jill asked between clenched teeth, both her and her husband's gaze falling on Merlo. “Christ, how many of you are here?”
“Well, technically she's a Dress,” Navarro smirked, “but yes, she is with me. We need to see the statue, and if all checks out, we're gone. I promise.”
Tom and Jill looked at each other. With a sigh, Tom shrugged and got to his feet. His wife quickly took his arm and the two left.
“Congratulations,” Navarro called out to them as they walked away.
The party continued for a little bit longer before the mayor of Portland took the stage. With all the flair one would expect of a politician, he made a short speech and then welcomed Tom Herring to the stage to unveil his art piece. With a small drum roll, the curtain was drawn back to reveal a four meter tall white marble sculpture of a medieval knight, sword held aloft. What caught Merlo's eye was that the piece's face bore a striking resemblance to Daniel Navarro.
“Daniel,” she whispered under her voice, “why the hell does this statue look like you?”
“Clearly someone thought the world could do with a little more Navarro in it,” he whispered back. “Do you actually think I know the answer to that?”
It was then Navarro noticed a man standing on one of the balconies overlooking the ballroom. He was dressed in a black business suit, and had short blond hair. A single leather glove could be seen on his right hand. The man nodded at Navarro and motioned for the two agents to join him.
“Son of a bitch,” Navarro mumbled and quickly got to his feet. He then spoke into the radio hidden on his person. “Hill's been spotted.”
Navarro and Merlo lost no time finding a stairway to the upper levels of the ballroom. The two agents quietly drew their pistols as they made their way to the balcony door. Merlo held her breath as Navarro counted down on his fingers.
3
2
1
Navarro quickly opened the door and passed through to the other side, the door slamming shut in Merlo's face as soon as he passed the threshold. The agent quickly tested the door handle, but found it locked. Merlo attempted to kick the door in, but to no avail. The door was sealed.
“Fuck…” Merlo mumbled under her breath.

On the other side of the door, Navarro now stood alone, the balcony absent of Jericho T. Hill. With a frustrated sigh, he looked over the balcony at the ongoing party below. His gaze swept over to Tom and Jill shaking hands with many of the hotel's benefactors, and then to the statue. He smiled as he looked at its face.
“Certainly a handsome guy,” Navarro chuckled to himself.
Navarro's smile vanished when he noticed the statue begin to move. Its unblinking eyes turned to him on the balcony. It then pointed its sword at him. Screams could be heard in the audience below as the statue stepped down from its pedestal and began to make its way across the ballroom.
“You have got to be kidding me…” Navarro mumbled as he readied his pistol for the oncoming fight. “Strike team, now would a great time for you to strike!”

As soon as she heard the gunshots coming from the ballroom, Agent Merlo pulled a 180 from the balcony door. However, as soon as she completed her turn, she was greeted by Jericho T. Hill standing only a few meters away. As she leveled her firearm, she felt a great force yank it from her hands, the weapon sailing through the air until it landed in the palm of Jericho's glove. The weapon turned to rust in his grip.
“If you promise to remain calm for the next minute or so, I won't have the other pistol you've hidden on your person go off,” said Jericho. His voice was completely without emotion. “I imagine that would be very messy.”
“Quite,” Merlo replied. “So this was a trap the whole time? Lure us in, set off some anomaly, and then jet?”
“More or less,” Jericho replied.
“How do you plan on that last part? We have this place surrounded. You can't just walk out the front door, Mr. Hill.”
“Oh I'm aware,” said Jericho. “Tell me, Suit, how well do you know Daniel?”
“Well enough,” Merlo answered. “Get on with it. You're stalling.”
“Then you'd know that he was an anartist in a former life, and started working for the Suits after he was apprehended and promised amnesty in exchange for serving as a double agent.”
“And your point is…”
“What happens when the chips are down again?” Jericho sneered. “What happens when he is captured by the Hand or the Coalition and promised a similar deal? He is a man completely devoted to preserving his freedom, and you and anyone he associates with are going to be caught in the crossfire.”
“I'd like to think Daniel has a little more integrity than that,” Merlo replied flatly.
“Does he, though?” Jericho shouted back, “I knew at least ten anartists who thought the same thing, and he helped the Suits kill them. Believe me, he will end you.”
There was the sound of shattering glass. Two members of the Foundation strike team descended from a skylight.
“Get down, Merlo,” one shouted. Without further hesitation, they opened fire on Jericho.
At the same time, Jericho held out his gloved hand at the strike team. Their bullets flew through the air, stopping several centimeters from his outstretched palm. Jericho waited for the sound of empty magazines, and then made a small gesture with his hand, the collection of bullets diverting towards the agents. Each shot hit its mark. The two agents fell to the ground.
Merlo lost no time charging Jericho from behind, knocking him off his feet with a firm tackle. However, before she could incapacitate her target, Merlo received several blows to her face from Jericho's elbow. Disoriented, Merlo felt him push her off. She got to her feet as quickly as she could, but by the time she was oriented, Jericho was gone.
“Fuck!” Merlo shouted at the top of her lungs.
Jericho T. Hill had, yet again, escaped.

The marble statue held Agent Navarro in a firm grip as it batted at the members of the Foundation strike team with its sword. The room had long been evacuated of civilians, leaving only the various agents to attempt to contain the anomaly. The strike team continuously peppered the colossus with all manner of small arms fire, chipping away at its frame. Eventually a grenade went off, causing the statue to topple to the ground. Bracing for the impact, Navarro felt the statue's grip loosen upon collision with the ballroom floor.
Navarro quickly rolled away as the strike team provided covering fire. As soon as he reoriented himself, he turned to see the statue crawling after him.
“Stand back!” he shouted at the strike team. He then held out his hands and made several odd gestures, muttering unintelligible speech for almost half a minute. The strike team watched as the statue started to steam, then glow, and finally became coated in nuclear fire. As the rest of the strike team looked away from the intense light and heat, Navarro remained concentrated on the task at hand. A few moments later, Navarro lowered his arm. The fire quickly dissipated to reveal that the statue was now a molten sludge, only the face remaining partially intact.
Navarro then sighed as he leaned against one of the ballroom's many columns before sliding to the floor. As he looked over at the statue's now deformed mockery of his face, he couldn't help but chuckle. He then turned his gaze to the remains of the strike team, watching as a beaten and bruised Agent Merlo slowly walked over to his spot on the floor.
“Hill?” Navarro asked.
“Escaped,” Merlo replied.
“Well then. Glad to see that this was a fruitful evening.”

Agents Merlo and Navarro sat in front of the desk of Director Holman, a tall, sharply dressed man with slicked-back hair, and Site Director of Site-64. For several moments, he didn't say a word. Rather, he simply stared at the two agents.
“I had to sign the order authorizing the use of amnestics on the fucking mayor of Portland,” Holman said, eventually breaking the silence. “Needless to say, my superiors are less than pleased with the outcome of this most recent mission.”
Neither Navarro nor Merlo responded.
“While some are calling for both of you to be seriously reprimanded, the fact that this incident was largely self-contained and easily covered up has bought you both a large degree of leniency. Congratulations. For now you're off the hook. However, for the foreseeable future, you'd both be wise to keep your heads down. Dismissed.”
Quietly, Navarro and Merlo left Director Holman's office behind. Upon entering the hallway, Merlo placed a hand on her colleague's shoulder.
“You doing okay there?” She asked.
Navarro didn't respond right away. Instead, something Jericho had said to him several months prior entered his mind.
But, if I keep putting you into situations like this, how long do you think it will take for them to question your value as an agent? If they are constantly pulling you from incapacitation, when will they start to see you as a liability?
“Never been better,” Navarro replied, and left without another word.

«Part Three: J.T.H. | Hub | Part Five: Bridges Burnt»


It happens every night, without exception. The details are different every time, his years living in the secret world blurring together into one messy painting. Tonight, his client is a very old man with a red striped tie, and his monster is a great white wolf.
Sidestep. Parry. Swipe. Miss. Draw. Fire. Roll. Duck. Slice. Cut. A messy ballet, but Aleksander knows it well, understands it in his core. No stage-trained dancer can dance as beautifully as this. No one else can do what he could do.
The battle nears climax. Aleksander's blade clashes against claw, neither material sure which should shatter first.
This is the moment the man in the striped tie, the client, makes his fatal decision, every time, without fail. Aleksander understands why the man in the striped tie did it - he'd paid a lot to come out here. He wants a trophy, something that he can point out to his friends in his study and say, "I killed that. It was a terrible battle, and we almost lost, but I was the one that killed this monster."
He can see it out of the corner of his eye now. The man in the striped tie pulls his shotgun from off his shoulder and aims. Aleksander doesn't have the time to tell him to stop - he pulls the trigger, and Aleksander drops to the floor, his chest torn apart like the wrapping paper on a Christmas present.
Aleksander doesn't remember what happened after that. He doesn't know if the man in the striped tie survived the rest of the night in those deep, dark, woods.
Usually, the dream continues to a hospital bed, and the pieces of him that were cut out.
Usually.
Tonight, instead, he is awoken by a scream.

Aleksander's eyes opened. He calmly stepped out of bed, grabbing the pistol under his pillow. He cleared his bedroom first before stepping into the hallway. Listened closely for a moment, but heard nothing but his daughter's sobbing. "Lucille? Are you all right?"
"Daddy!" Aleksander could hear the sobs in her voice. "There is a monster underneath my bed!"
Aleksander relaxed. Opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. Slid smoothly to the floor and lay prone, pistol in hand, lifted up the sheets and looked under the bed to find…
Nothing. There was nothing under the bed. Why would there be?
Aleksander got up and flicked the light switch. "No monsters under the bed."
"Yes there is! I just saw him! He had great big teeth and was covered in scales and his eyes were bloody and…" The girl looked up at her father with great big teary eyes. "You have to believe me!"
Aleksander rubbed his eyes. "Shall we look for him, then?"
The girl nodded.
"All right. Do you want to help me?"
The girl shook her head and dove further under the covers.
"Fine. Wait there." Aleksander began to sweep and clear the room, just like a combat zone. He checked the closet, the dresser, behind and under the bookshelf, her night stand, and once again, for good measure, underneath the bed. "Clear," he reported. "The monster must have run away. Do you want me to stay?"
The lump of little girl hiding under the sheets moved in a way that could indicate a nodding head. Aleksander sat down on the foot of her bed and told her another story from his time with the Russian army. She fell asleep half-way through.
In the morning, he made her pancakes.

When Lily got to the office Monday morning, she found her assignment standing waist-deep in a wooden crate full of packing peanuts.
He heard the door shut and glanced up at her. "Have you seen my silencers?"
Lily frowned. "I don't remember ever seeing you use a silencer, Mister Foxx."
He dug through the box some more, throwing packing peanuts all around the small office.
"I had them shipped from my old office." He crawled out of the box and began rifling through his desk drawers. "They were expensive."
Lily began scooping up peanuts and throwing them back in the box. "I'm certain I haven't. You know, they have silencers in the armory. You could probably get one that fits your gun."
He was sorting through the filing cabinets now. "These were special. Void Silencers." He looked over to her, saw her confused expression. "They do not have Void Silencers here?"
"Never heard of them," Lily said.
Foxx closed the filing cabinet, locking it with a brass key. "It is what it is. May you please take me to the quartermaster?"

6:00 AM Subject leaves home, retrieves mail, returns inside (Mail screened previously)
7:45 AM Subject leaves home with daughter, enters motor vehicle.
7:55 AM Subject arrives at daughter's school, daughter exits motor vehicle.
8:00 AM Subject stops at diner, drinks coffee alone, reads paper.
8:32 AM Subject pays for meal (cash), leaves diner.
8:45 AM Subject leaves city limits - as requested, surveillance ceased.

Doctor Gunnel read over the log once again. Apparently, paying for a private detective was useless - not like anyone outside of the Foundation would know what they were looking for anyways.
Gunnel really didn't care who Foxx was, or what the Foundation had planned for him, but as long as his benefactor kept sending him his pay checks, he'd keep sending him whatever they felt like asking him for. After all, money really did talk.
Gunnel read the log again, then heard his computer beep. He felt his heart race - his bug had managed to catch a voice-mail. He practically fell over the play button.

<BEGIN RECORDING>
…Um, hi, Mike's tailoring and alterations calling.
Your jacket and pants are finished, exactly like you ask.
The total comes to… um… $74.50.
…Pick it up when you have the chance, okay?
Our business hours are nine AM to four.
<END RECORDING>

Doctor Gunnel frowned, and began scribbling on a piece of paper.

Despite my best efforts, I cannot seem to get any information on the MC&D purchase. No matter how many bugs I place, investigators I hire, or files I steal, I can't get anything on the anomaly, or how he operates.

He crumbled it up, and tossed it in the bin, before pulling it out and setting it on fire in his ash tray. His benefactor would have no interest in a failure report. He'd need actual information, which means he would have to work a lot harder.
He suspected that he'd have to do more than just bug Foxx's voice-mail. He'd have to bug his outgoing calls, too.
He'd find something yet. Some smidgen of info about Foxx and what they were planning for him.

Lily tried to keep her irritation down to a reasonable level. Her third day assigned to the aggravatingly mysterious Foxx, and she had managed to lose him. He was due for an examination at noon, and he hadn't checked out of the building at any point. He wasn't in his dorm, and he wasn't responding to her calls.
She checked everywhere: Mess Hall, Armory, Offices, Firing Range, Training Halls, Board Rooms, Level-1 Laboratories, and, in an act of final desperation, both the men's and women's lavatories. She was just about to ask site security to look for him when her cell phone buzzed.

Lily: Going to my tailor. Will be back after lunch.
-Foxx

Lily exhaled, made a note to dress down whoever let Foxx slip past their checkpoints without notifying her, then pulled out her phone.
"This is Lily. Asset Heth has left site. Are you tailing him?"
"Yes Ma'am. We're having a little car trouble at the moment, but it'll be all right."
"All right? What the hell does that mean? Is he still in your line of sight?"
"No Ma'am. But, he's just visiting his tailor. We've been there before. We'll catch up with him soon enough."
"Report to me if you don't. Lily out."

The bell rang as Aleksander walked through the small door. A tall, bald man looked up from his newspaper, before cracking a smile. "Foxie. Long time no see."
Aleksander turned the sign in the door around, letting everyone know that the shop would be temporarily closed. "I got a phone call saying you had my stuff ready?"
The man coughed. "Were you followed?"
Aleksander pulled some copper wiring out of his pocket. "No. My tails had some… car trouble. I'm alone."
The man laughed. "That's my Foxie. You bring cash, or you want me to charge it to a company account?"
Aleksander threw a large, black briefcase onto the counter. "Seventy-four-thousand five hundred dollars, plus tip."
The man threw his newspaper on the counter next to the briefcase. "You never fail to impress." He stood up. "I imagine you want a live demonstration before you walk out with your new gear?"
"Demonstration, please." He remembered his dream from last night, remembered the time his old tailor had sold him a faulty coat and a shotgun blast had gotten through. "I always take a test drive these days."
Baldie unlocked a large steel door and waved Aleksander within. "Words to live by my friend. Words to live by."
Heavy machinery thrummed in the back of the room, rolls of thick fabric being fed into them from steel rolls. To the left of the room was a makeshift shooting range, and in the centre of that was a much-the-worse-for-wear mannequin wearing a pair of black dress pants and a long, thick dress coat.
Aleksander walked towards the firing line. "I assume those are mine?" he asked, drawing his pistol from his coat pocket.
The bald man nodded. "Go for it."
Aleksander fired ten rounds into the jacket. After a few seconds of silence, he watched the squashed bullets push out of the jacket and fall onto the floor. "Impressive."
"Of course. It's also totally fireproof, waterproof, and tear-proof."
Aleksander blinked twice. "You are absolutely sure I cannot rip this jacket?"
The bald man laughed. "I have to use high-pressure water jets to slice the fabric myself. Knives are child's play."
Aleksander put his gun away. "What about the pants?"
"Classic Huntsman long-fall trousers. You'll survive a drop up to 1 kilometer, officially. Unofficially, I've heard of guys surviving up to six. Not sure how true those stories are."
"They're true. I was one of them." Aleksander looked at his watch. "I need to head back to the office. I'll wear these out."
Baldie nodded. "Dressing rooms are upstairs. Anything else?"
Aleksander frowned. "Are you still married to the leatherworker?"
"Yup. Twenty-five years now."
"Tell her I need a new pair of gloves. Oh, and if she still knows the lensmaker, I'll need new glasses. I pay cash."

The orderly pulled a needle and some vials out of one of the drawers and began to prepare them. "That will not work," Aleksander said.
The boffin looked up from the sterilization process. "What?"
"That needle is too small. You will need one much bigger." He flicked the device in question. "That will bend, or break off inside of me. Very uncomfortable. Twenty-seven gauge works best."
The boffin scrawled it down on the yellow piece of paper on his clipboard, then reached for the bigger needle. The jab was quick, and the vials began to fill themselves up with a watery-black liquid. The boffin had been briefed on this, but it didn't make it any less strange to see in person.
He tried running a blood typing test, but the liquid he extracted from Foxx just dispersed through the vials - unsurprising, again, but still really, really weird to see.
He threw the vials into the plastic box on the wall labeled Anomalous Biohazard Disposal. He looked back at Foxx, who was putting on his shirt. "Right, we're all done here. You're free to go."
Foxx stood up. "May I read my results?" He put out his hand expectantly.
"What? Yeah, I guess." He passed the clip-board to the well-dressed man.

MEDICAL FILE - CONFIDENTIAL, DO NOT DISTRIBUTE
Name: Aleksander Foxx
Clearance: Level 2
Location: Site-19
Date of Birth: October 15, 1978
Age: 36 years
Dates of Testing: █-██-██
Tests Given:

Electrocardiography test
Electroencephalography test
Marksmanship Exam
Physical Endurance Test
Basic Blood Work & Typing

BACKGROUND INFORMATION
Aleksander Foxx is a new Agent recently recruited from another GOI, Marshall, Carter & Dark.
Foxx has some anomalous effects which have been described in detail below.
MEDICAL INFORMATION
Aleksander Foxx has an allergy to penicillin, but has said that he "has not needed to worry about that for a while, now," apparently due to his anomalous capabilities. He is not on any regular medications of any sort. He stated that his anomaly may react with various chemicals, including any fungicides or pesticides.
ANOMALY INFORMATION
Aleksander Foxx has several anomalous properties, not present from birth, but, as he stated it, "gifted to him by his employers."
The most significant anomaly, and most obvious, is the fact that his chest cavity is missing his lungs and heart, and is instead filled with plant matter that, when sampled, showed similar DNA to the mundane species Plantae Bryophyta, or standard moss, but with a few genetic divergences.
Through all testing, the matter appears to act like a normal pair of lungs and heart, although his breathing is significantly shallower, and his "heart" beats significantly more slowly (roughly 50 bpm.)
It appears that his lung actively filters out all toxins in the air, accepting only carbon dioxide and pushing out anything else. As well, his heart filters out any toxins in his veins, including all viral and bacterial infections, and most drugs. In case of surgery, it may be difficult to keep him unconscious, and dosages should be adjusted accordingly.
As well, the entirety of his blood has been replaced with an unidentified black liquid. Mister Foxx states that this is due to "the new heart not liking the old blood." Attempting to blood-type it has failed, but a transfusion will likely not ever be necessary, as any wounds (externally or internally) clot incredibly rapidly, leaving a threat of bleeding out unlikely.
Finally, Aleksander Foxx has the capability to identify chemical components within food and drink, including most non-anomalous drugs and poisons, by either smelling it or tasting it.

When Aleksander got back to his office, a really ugly man was waiting for him. He was leaning in Aleksander's chair, drinking Aleksander's coffee, and resting his feet on Aleksander's desk.
Aleksander was not amused. "Can I help you?"
"I know who you are," the man said.
"Please take your feet off of my desk."
"I might later, Magpie."
Aleksander, for the first time that day, felt panic, and froze. "Ukulele, right?"
"That was me!" the ugly man said cheerfully. "I go by Clef these days." He smiled. It was not a very nice smile.
"I go by Mister Foxx now." Aleksander sat on top of a nearby filing cabinet. "It's funny. You tried to kill my family when I was a boy. Now we work for the same team, apparently."
"I wouldn't say the same team. It's not like it used to be, kiddo. Used to be everyone fought for the same purpose. Now everyone has their own agendas… plots within plots… it's enough to give a man a headache."
"A pretty good life lesson from the guy that killed my mother."
Clef smirked. "Not the first mom I've killed," he said bitterly. "I came over to give you a couple of welcome gifts."
"What could you offer that I don't already have?"
"I can get you a PAVISE."
Aleksander stared down the greasy man sitting in his chair. "…Bullshit."
"I'm serious. I can get you a fully functional PAVISE — undamaged and with all safety systems disconnected — for all of your reverse-engineering pleasure."
"PAVISE is GOC technology. If you had one, the Foundation would have better invisibility tech of their own."
"Utilizing them is still held up in red tape: holdovers from the post-Bowe era. I can get you a head start."
Aleksander thought for a moment before replying. "I will take it. But do not expect anything in return."
"It's in your filing cabinet."
Aleksander got off the filing cabinet and opened the top drawer. "… So it is. Filed under 'P' even."
Clef smirked. "Organization is the key to efficiency. I've got a second gift for you, as well."
Aleksander started to fiddle with the device. "Oh?"
"One of our employees has been… overstepping, lately. Been investigating you without permission to do so."
"I noticed my desk phone was double-bugged. Wasn't sure which one was the official one, so I left them both be."
"We'd like you to… talk to him."
"Who is he?"
"The dossier is also in your filing cabinet."
Aleksander opened the second drawer of his filing cabinet. "So it is. Filed under 'S' this time. I imagine for 'Silence'?"
"Also 'Snitch'." Clef glanced at his watch. "Well, would you look at the time. I've almost missed my ambiguous, non-existent appointment that I have scheduled just when I start to lose interest in my current conversation."
Aleksander stopped fiddling and looked up at the ugly man. "Doctor Clef?"
"Yes?"
"This is a Mark Three PAVISE. 1990s GOC tech. I could probably buy a better one off of Ebay."
Clef laughed as he left. "Enjoy your six minutes of invisibility!"
Aleksander waited for Clef to close the door behind him. He never did.
That Fucker.
Aleksander closed the door, picked up the PAVISE in one hand, the dossier in the other, and sat down in his desk. He read the Dossier and frowned.
… He'd have to call a babysitter. He would be home late.

Doctor Gunnel had had a long day - no leads on Foxx, and he was too busy investigating that to do his own research. He swiped his security pass, unlocking his apartment within Site-19. It wasn't anything particularly special - most of his furniture was still the standard-issue equipment they gave everyone, but it had his clothes and his personal belongings, so it was the closest thing he had to a "home."
He stepped inside and felt the door slide shut behind him, leaving him in pitch darkness. He began to look for the light switch, when he heard a voice coming from the shadows.
"Do you know what I hated about living in London, Gunnel?"
Gunnel froze. His heart felt like it had stopped beating. He knew this was it - his gig was up. Foxx had figured it out. He was going to die.
"It was the roundabouts, Doctor. I hate roundabouts."
Doctor Gunnel slowly reached into his pocket. He took out his keys and tossed them to the floor, followed by his wallet, then his pocket knife.
"When I want to go somewhere, Gunnel, I like to go in straight lines. If I have to make a diversion, I simply turn and eventually return to the path I was on."
Gunnel did not say a word. He'd found his pillbox. He opened it up and dry-swallowed the small white tablet inside.
"Roundabouts take you in such a snake-like path. No one solves their problems directly in London."
Gunnel tossed a small object onto the ground. It hissed softly. Foxx did not appear to notice.
"This is an analogy, Doctor. I do not bribe. I do not blackmail. I go directly to the source. I do not drive in circles. Do you understand, Doctor?"
Gunnel breathed in deeply, tasted acrid vapor, and waited to die. When he didn't, he began to laugh. "You're an idiot."
"Hm?"
"You didn't even notice the nerve-gas grenade. I just took the only antidote. You'll be dead in seconds and I'll…"
A blur of motion. Doctor Gunnel felt the cold steel being pushed through his chest. He looked down at the blade piercing his stomach, and up at the man who pushed it through him.
"I don't have lungs," Foxx said. "I would have thought you would have learned that in your research."
Gunnel gurgled.
"I don't know what kind of spy you are, Doctor Gunnel," Foxx said, "but you seem to be a terrible researcher." He put his hand against Gunnel's chest and pulled out the blade, watching Gunnel slide to the floor in a heap. Then he made sure all of the windows were closed and locked, shoved a wet towel under the front door to create a makeshift seal, and sat down on the living room floor.
He pulled out a phone from his jacket pocket. "This is Foxx," he said. "Gunnel is dead. Might want to get a Hazmat team in here. This room is apparently full of nerve gas."

Doctor Clef sat on the steps of the apartment building as he watched Mobile Task Force Beta-Seven ("Maz Hatters") rush past him. He looked up as the heavy footsteps of reinforced dress-shoes sounded behind.
Aleksander was standing behind him, one foot on the railing, the other on the concrete. He was examining something on his shoe.
Clef started to laugh.
Aleksander frowned. "What is it?"
Clef giggled. "You look like that fucker from the rum bottle."
The frown deepened. "Captain Morgan? I do not."
"You're posed just like him. You look fucking stupid."
Aleksander stepped off the railing. "Mission analysis?"
"Well, first question. Did you stab him right away, or did you even make any attempt to take him alive?"
"You were unclear on that point."
"I did ask you to talk to him."
"You paused. That could have made it a euphemism for killing the man. In any case, after he attempted to murder me with nerve gas, I was not inclined to let him live."
Clef rolled his eyes. "All right, point taken. Any news on who he was working for?"
"No. But it was almost certainly not your Overseer Council."
"What the hell makes you say that?" Clef asked.
"Nerve gas grenades and antidote pills," Aleksander explained. "Why use something so awkward when one has access to cognitohazards?"
"Good point. I'll take that under advisement." Clef slapped Aleksander on his back. "Anyway, you proved you could do what needed to be done. Welcome to Lambda-Two."
The confusion spread from Alexander's forehead to the rest of his face. "What's a Lambda-Two?"

Aleksander was just about to fall asleep when the phone rang. He groggily reached out to it before mumbling a sleepy "Hello?"
"I hear you move. Why you no call me? You are trying to avoid me, Smart Alek?"
Aleksander felt his bones chill. "Hello, Babushka."
"You not can hide from me, Alek. My bears, they will find you. Bears are everywhere, Alek. Even in city, bears are nearby. In zoo, in forest, always there are bear."
"…I know, Babushka. I wasn't hiding from you, I've just been busy with my new job."
"You still kill the people, Alek? Bozhe moi, why I ever take you in? Your mother must be spin in grave. You can do much better thing than kill people for dirty merchant."
"… Babushka, I first saw you kill a man when I was seven. I watched you drink his blood."
"That is way of bear, Smart Alek! Cubs in danger, mother bear kill without mercy! You have lost way of bear. You kill for money. Bear never kill for money. You forget example of Cousin Yevgeny? He fuck entire town because try to use bear to kill for money. Idiot. Some day you also will fuck self because kill for money. Also, why you not bring Lucille to stay with me?"
"Babushka, Lucille is not going to go and live with you."
"Is better Lucille live with great-grandma! Even if you good father, girl need mother or grandmother, teach ways of woman and ways of bear. Maybe you not send Lucille to live with me. Is fine. But you should find good, strong Russian woman to remarry. At least teach Lucille way of woman if cannot teach way of bear. I go now, Alek. You call me back soon. I love you."
"… I love you too, Babushka."
The phone went click. Aleksander rolled over and returned to his dreams.
Sidestep. Parry. Swipe. Miss. Draw. Fire. Roll. Duck. Slice…