Off the Hook
A Twisted Pines / Wilson's Wildlife Tale

It was strange, Wajima "Hagi" Moyumi thought. Strange how she had been able to leave the Foundation so easily.
It wasn't that people couldn't leave the Foundation, of course. They could, but unless they were high ranking officials, they were doomed to forget everything about it. The Foundation's main purpose is to hold information, and retirees are just bundles of information asking to be abducted and interrogated by any number of antagonistic groups. Say, a Mekhanist wanting to know what Site contained some kind of artifact, or an agent of the Chaos Insurgency trying to pry out anything that might lead to a successful interception or bombing. Or, anyone who has no problem selling that information to others. In short, it was dangerous to leave any retired Foundation employee with any amount of useful information unprotected, and since bodyguards and surveillance take time and energy, the Foundation made it a habit to wipe most everyone. Soon enough, other groups of interest began to notice that no amount of torture could pull up anything useful, and life for these retired scientists and injured field agents became a lot less ruckus and a lot more safe.
Hagi's situation was different.
When the Foundation was wondering how to go about breaking the news that they would be loosening their grip on Wilson's Wildlife Solutions, something that came up was the idea that they could reveal Hagi to have been a spy, and then pull her from their ranks, as a fairly literal example of their grip loosening. It was pretty foolproof. Nothing in the Boring Agreement actually banned espionage, from the Foundation's side, and it would have shown them that a new era was dawning — an era outside the grip of the Foundation. Everyone was on board.
Except Hagi.
She had been very upset when she heard the news of this plan. Someone upstairs must have noticed, because soon enough she was called into a meeting with the Nexus 17 research team, and asked about her thoughts on the matter. When she spoke dissent, they heard her. Which was wholly unexpected.
See, Hagi didn't want to leave Wilson's Wildlife Solutions.
She'd been with them for… just about two decades, by that point. It had become her livelihood. She knew a Foundation agent's lifestyle required flexibility, and the willingness to change at a moment's notice, but… she hadn't felt more fulfilled with herself in her whole life. She asked them if perhaps they could still reveal her, but afterwards… take her off their payroll, so to speak, and let her stay as a full-time employee of Wilson's Wildlife Solutions.
It was risky and Hagi hadn't expected it to go anywhere.
But it worked.
She got to remember most things, or so her memories told her; she did know that at this point they were hard to trust. They had wiped her of many, many things — she didn't know the locations of any Sites, for one. She didn't remember almost any anomalies she had worked with (besides the animals at Wilson's), she didn't remember the layouts of any research facilities… she was allowed to remember her friends and colleagues who she had said goodbye to, but they wiped her of their names. Still, the fact that she could remember that she worked with the Foundation at all was a rarity.
The first couple months after that big reveal were tumultuous. There was a lot of celebrating, but… quite a bit of animosity had come Hagi's way. People were understandably upset at being spied on, even if it was from the Supervisors, whose whole job it was to supervise. Eventually, it cleared up, and while she did know that there were a few that still hold it against her, even those people hid those feelings to make the workplace a better experience for everyone. But not everyone had reacted that way. Faeowynn Wilson had been kind to her, and so had her good friend Gary Harp — though they did have one or two very hard conversations.
"Are you ready? The first trip is always a doozy." Hagi stood at the edge of a sewer gate — an unfortunate place for a Way, but what do you do? There's not much room to complain.
"I mean, I think I am." Gary winced a little. "Does it hurt?"
"Not at all. C'mon, I'll show you how it's done."
Hagi had gone into Three Portlands with the Foundation at least twice before, but for what reasons she could not remember. Now, she was going into Three Portlands with Wilson's. It felt… surreal. More surreal than Three Portlands already felt, which was quite a feat. Three Ports had always been a great big anomalous secret, and it felt crazy that Wilson's Wildlife should know of it, of all people! It was a step upwards for sure. With the upcoming location that they were going to build there, Wilson's Wildlife was going to be more connected to the anomalous world than ever before.
"You don't have to. I heard the descriptions before, I can do it."
"If you say so."
Gary opened the sewer gate, and plugged his nose.
"Plugging your nose isn't part of it."
"Shuddup."
Hagi giggled, and they descended through the gate.
"I'm just worried," Gary started, "about setting up wifi in a parallel universe."

UIU Agent Tosh Reddy was doing very important work. Not the most fun work, per se, but it was important work nonetheless. With a roll of blue masking tape in one hand and a stack of posters in the other, he slapped an ad onto the inside of a storefront window before turning back to the shopkeeper, a kind elderly woman. "Thank you for letting me put this up, ma'am!"
The woman waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, don't worry. I'm always happy to support local businesses!"
Tosh just couldn't help but smile. "I'm happy you support us. Now, uh, I've gotta run. I've got lots of these things."
"Of course."
And with that, Tosh stepped outside into the bustling crowd of Three Portlands, peering off towards the inverted horizon and catching glimpses of several lighthouse shadows, that same dumb grin still plastered onto his face. He looked up into the sky. It was fun, sometimes, to work with people — he'd forgotten that warm, fulfilling feeling in his heart to do something good.
Usually doing good in the UIU just meant throwing someone in jail, or busting another anomalous drug ring. Sure, it inherently improved the world, but… something was different about seeing the immediate effects of your actions, seeing how they affect people. It was nice.
"Hey, Tosh!"
The agent looked up to see his partner, Agent Tahirih Adams, with a noticeably smaller stack of posters compared to his. By the look on her face, that was exactly what she was about to talk to him about. "Have you been slackin' or something? Come on, we've gotta get this done fast! Just look!" She pointed down to one of the posters in her hand.
Somewhere beneath "Come to the Grand Opening of Wilson's Pet Shelter!", the images of happy anomalous animals, and a long list of reasons to support the export of weird and "unusual" critters (that seemed to be their favorite word to describe it) from Boring, Oregon to Three Portlands, Tahirih's finger landed on a single innocuous line:
"Meet us for the grande opening at 14542 Echo Ln., on 6/4/2028!"
Tosh looked unimpressed. "Yeah? What about it?"
"The fourth of June is the next next Sunday, you moron! There's no way we're gonna be done by then."
"Well… That's the date Ms. Wilson gave us."
Tahirih blinked. "Fae."
"Mhmm, I know, Ms. Wilson."
She blinked again, her eyes narrowing. Tosh hated when she did that — accentuate her blinking. It was so painfully passive-aggressive. Then again, maybe he was just digging too far into it. "She told us she'd rather be called Fae."
Tosh opened his mouth to object, but something tugged at his heart. "Alright, alright, I'll lighten up. Everyone's always Mr. this and Mrs. that in agent work, so you can cut me a little slack. Well, anyways, I bet Fae knows what she's talking about."
"I wouldn't be so sure, I mean, it's a lot of work."
Letting his roll of masking tape fall around his wrist, Tosh patted his partner's shoulder. "I think you could use a bit of 'lightening up' too, eh? I mean — these people are so optimistic. Maybe you could learn from them."
"Hmph. Maybe I could."

Hagi and Gary decked themselves out in white, filmy suits. Hagi did her hair up in a bun, and hid it under a cheap white cap. Gary pulled on white coverings over the soles of his shoes, and — with some difficulty — pulled up a sticky zipper on the front of his onesie, wondering if it was really necessary to do all this just to paint.
"You don't want to damage your clothes, Gary."
Gary grunted. "I didn't wear anything I cared about today," he protested.
But Hagi just rolled her eyes and shrugged. Gary wasn't a manual labor guy, ever. His jobs were behind desks, behind screens, and on phones. But… he really did want to help out with the new location, and he knew that meant getting his hands dirty. Transferring over to their new place was an option reserved for employees that had been there since the Tim Wilson days — days that still hung on the horizon like they'd never left, even though they had been gone for a good four years by now. Anyways, Gary was one of those people. But it wasn't just an option. It required putting in the work. Gary really didn't want to do that, but…
Hagi was transferring there, and he knew that without her, the office back at base would get boring.
So with a sigh, he picked up a paint roller, dipped it into Wilson's signature minty green, and made his way over to the nearest wall. They had already placed the cardboard beneath each wall, to make sure that their colors wouldn't drip down onto the hardwood floor, which they wanted to keep clean for now (at least until it got all scratched up by the high traffic of dogs, cats, birds and the like). With a steady hand that Gary had acquired from years of computer building and soldering, slick clean strokes of green began to form on the wall. He looked over at Hagi and smiled to show her that he wasn't going to complain again. She smiled back, and followed suit, dipping a roller into the mint solution.
Hagi joined Gary's side at the wall, and outclassed his strokes in almost every regard — they were straighter, longer, and she made them faster. Gary had to look away to feel good about his own work. To his right, his eyes peered down the in-production hallway that was going to lead to their animal pens and field. It was familiar to him, in a way. It looked just like the hallway off from the main hub of the headquarters, except that if he were to follow it to its conclusion, he would see the artificial sun that gently warmed the super-soil, and a great expanse of extradimensional city. The scale here was… no, it wasn't bigger. Everything was just stranger. And people here had come from all over the world to seek refuge from "normal" and camp out in the town of the unusual.
A strange, strange feeling washed over him.
"Gary?"
"Hmm? Oh, sorry."
"Why'd you stop like that?"
"It's nothing."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, 100%."
"Ookaaay."
Gary made one more stroke, but then couldn't help but speak. "The eras are really coming and going, aren't they?"
"Hmm?"
"I mean," he dipped his roller back into the paint inside the paint tray, and rubbed the excess off onto the ridges, "it's been, what, four years? Since Tim passed?"
"God rest his soul."
"Yea, and, you know, before then. Everything felt like it was repeating itself, over and over. Maybe even getting a bit worse. We couldn't handle everything that came to us, we misplaced money a good number of times, we had to be saved, we were a mess. Felt like we weren't going to make it. It really didn't. Boat loads of stress."
"Yeah," Hagi sighed, and looked concerned at Gary. "Yeah, I know how you feel."
"But, that's a discussion for another time. What I'm saying is, ever since Fae got in the big chair, feels like we've been going a mile a minute. First we have a new boss, then the Boring Agreement gets shredded and stitched together like eight times, then we get a new base on the coast so we can look over some sea and aquatic critters… we start getting donations from anomalous organizations, which spawns a whole 'nother Boring Agreement fiasco, turns out you're a spy — err, sorry. But, I mean, like… the Foundation loosens their grip as they deem us trustworthy, now we have an alliance with the feds, and we're breaching into Three Portlands? And making an adoption center? Like, the pound, but for anomalous animals? It's… insane. It's been four years. Can you imagine that? Four years. I'm just, I'm a little overwhelmed."
Gary painted a second longer, pausing to allow Hagi a space to respond, but no response came.
"I dunno, it just," Gary felt the need to continue. "…It feels like the world is anxious to be happening, you know?"
Hagi kept painting, but nodded slowly. "Yeah," she whispered. "I know."

Wilson's Wildlife Solutions had never really owned a real adoption center before. They would usually just find an animal that didn't do much harm, put some posters up, perhaps schedule some visits, and then hope someone would fall in love. But that only extended to the few residents of Boring and to the volunteers and employees of Wilson's Wildlife. The operations were small, and only for special cases. Thing is, Three Portlands was a hot mess of anomalous activity and individuals that Wilson's wasn't ready to deal with, and if something went wrong, UIU agents would have to deal with the fallout. A type of experiment like this required some oversight. Which is exactly why the UIU requested that two of their agents, Tosh and Tahirih, were to be the ones to pick the first 'test batch' of adoptables. So, after driving up the quaint and lightly forested SE Wally Road and parking in the shade for comfort, they met longtime Wilson's employee Feather Fanucchi, who was to take them through the premises.
"So, for the Pet Shelter we want to have five… ish?" Tosh looked over to his partner, who nodded in agreement. "Yeah, five animals. They need to be sociable, easy to take care of, y'know, stuff like that."
"Dogs and cats are good starts too," Tahirih added. "Most folks tend to be more open to adopting typical pets than like, a turtle, or something."
"Or a mini pterodactyl? Y'know. Just as an example. Anyways, yeah, that should be easy." Turning to the left, Feather led them along. "We've got an enclosure specifically for canines, I think there are some good contenders."
A barrage of barks and yaps erupted as Feather opened a door, leading the pair of agents through. There were dogs of all breeds and sizes — and the group was immediately swarmed by the fluffy herd.
However, with a single "calm down," from Feather, they all quieted. "Good boys. Um… Liam!" As the rest of the herd backed away, returning to their usual activities, one tiny tan and white beagle poked its head out of the crowd. "Yes, you."
The dog sneezed as Tosh looked over to Feather, grinning. The corner of her lips rose, quivering.
Meanwhile, Tahirih knelt down onto the grass. "Come here, Liam!" Without warning, the beagle suddenly broke out into a dash, tackling her with wet, sloppy kisses. Tahiri simply giggled a bit, hugging Liam.
"Well, looks like you're getting well-acquainted. This is Liam, he's a lemon beagle, two years old. Very energetic, as you can tell. His entire deal is that he's completely low-maintenance. Barely needs food or water, so he only needs to go to the bathroom once a month."
Tahiri gasped, turning to Tosh as the beagle strained to get closer. "He'll be perfect for those city-goers up in Three Portlands!"
"Then sign 'im up!" Tosh knelt down, scratching the dog's head. "You're going places, doggie."

Why is it that whenever you aren't able to have something, it's always much more prominent in the world?
Like when you get braces, and suddenly caramel sounds really good.
Or you lose a prized pencil or pen — and suddenly it looks like everyone is using yours.
Or even when you're lonely, but you notice everyone else with their friends.
It's strange, isn't it? That something in your mind drags attention to things you can't have, things you've lost.
And walking through the crowded city of Three Portlands, Sherman Vega sure was seeing a lot of dogs, and happy barking wormed its way into his ears. He put in earbuds to try and drown it out.
It made him sick to his stomach. He sat down on a bench, closing his eyes.
There weren't any pet stores in Three Portlands, he knew that much. And he definitely couldn't go out into the real world — without power over his abilities, he'd surely be noticed and locked up in some cell at the ends of the earth.
He wondered about the friends he'd left behind. Did they still remember him? He'd told them his plans, but they still never visited him. His only real company had been his dog, Uriel, but… Uriel was an old dog.
Sherman's grip tightened on the edge of the bench, and he stood up, rubbing at his eyes. Suddenly, a green poster caught his eye. On the other side of the glass on a storefront for magical rocks (unlike the "new age" shops from where he used to live, these seemed to be legit), there were pictures of frolicking cats and dogs — one breathed fire…? But, puppies were puppies.
Coming closer, it was an advertisement for a pet shelter — "Wilson's Pet Shelter". A pet shop? In Three Portlands!? His stomach jumped. When and where?
June fourth. What? That was today!
His heart skipped with a childlike, gleeful hope. He quickly committed the address to memory, and stood up straighter than he had before.
Maybe he'd go check it out.

"…Five?"
"Five was all we needed."
"Are you… sure?"
"What're you expecting, a stampede?" Tahirih looked puzzled. "You don't just come in and get a pet. There's a whole process, and it's the first day. I'd say you'd be lucky if you cleared all five. Just go put the open sign up already."
Hagi set her bag behind the counter, a little unsatisfied with the batch they'd picked out, and went to turn their "closed" sign to "open". She wondered. Was she expecting a stampede? No, of course not. Hagi was fully prepared for today to be slow, and relatively uneventful. But she was definitely hoping for more than five animals to show off. That seemed very underwhelming.
Ah well. All she could do now was wait here with Tahirih. Gary and Tosh were in the back, looking after the dogs. She had to say, they did a good job on this building! The light above it made it easily identifiable from far away, Wilson's colors had brought some of their small town charm to the big city, and the small yard for the animals was a beautiful touch. There were of course some rooms that still needed work — most of the offices, really — but the lobby, front desk… everything that a customer would see was spotless. Hopefully, it would be very impressive. Pictures of their favorite Wilson's Wildlife animals were hung up on every square inch of every wall, to make sure anyone walking through the door would immediately be struck with the impression of an animal sanctuary, as that was, pretty much, the point.
But, fully expecting to sit for hours behind a desk before anyone showed up, the morning had already yielded a customer.
Suddenly, the lobby door burst open, and a sweaty, panting young man entered surrounded by a yellow aura. It wrapped around him, twisting and turning with each raspy breath.
"Ah, hello there!" Hagi lit up with joyous surprise. "H-how may I help you?" She wasn't quite sure how to greet people yet.
"H-hi, I'm uh, Sherman, nice to meet you, um…" he searched her for a name tag.
"Hagi."
Sherman smiled, and a thrill of pink went through his aura. "Hagi, hi." He reached out for a handshake, quite unexpectedly. Hagi made sure to shake his hand — which shook at a rate she hadn't experienced before. "I'm Sherman — I mean, I'm, looking. For a dog."
"Alright, do you have any history of pet ownership?" Tahirih had crept from the back towards the desk to do her job — background check the customer.
"Yes, uhh, I had a dog when I was young — it was 'my' dog but it was the family dog, you know. But, I did have my own dog. A big Weimaraner, named Uriel. He was mine and only mine for over a decade. Good boy. L-loved that guy."
"And where were you born?" Hagi understood that everything that Tahirih said, she was supposed to log and repeat for all future customers.
"W-what? Where I was born?"
Hagi was also logging exactly what she would do differently. "Yes, we need to be able to background check you for a criminal record. We're selling anomalous animals, you understand. We don't want them to end up in the wrong hands — mistreated pets could be a danger to the owner and to others. If you're the mild mannered, polite person you seem to be, you shouldn't have a thing to worry about."
"Well…" He looked reasonably confused, and a gray-blue shuddered down his now more jagged mirage. "Okay, okay. Sherman Vega, from Kansas City, Missouri." Hagi noted that down in her customer checklist, of which she had tear-off pads full.
She looked to Tahirih, to see if a name and birthplace would be enough. Agent Adams nodded — looks like the UIU didn't need much to track people. "Good! Would you like to come back around and see the animals?"
Red blushed back into Sherman's aura, and he nodded frantically. Hagi opened a small gate, and waved Sherman through. Hagi led, Sherman followed, and Tahirih stayed back at the desk. They passed several small pens for the animals, which were all released into the yard at the moment. At the end of the hall, Tosh stood, and seemed (reasonably) surprised at how quickly they had acquired a first customer. He courteously opened the door on the left (his right) out into the yard, where Hagi and Sherman happened upon Gary playing with three dogs and two cats. The yard was fenced off completely — and that meant towards the sky as well. There was a chainlink shield around the entire thing, connecting to a white fence at the ground, and the building at the top. The small artificial sun was directly above, giving the place a summer's warmth at all times.
Gary was caught entirely off guard, especially because his unfamiliar eyes were still getting used to anomalous humans. Animals were one thing, and people were entirely different. He put on his best business casual attitude, before realizing that the best thing to do was to go full Wilson's and look like the happiest man alive. Which wasn't too far from the truth… sitting in a yard and playing with animals was just about the best thing he could think of to do right now. Well, except sit behind a computer and feel at home within the code and numbers. But that was work, even if he enjoyed it. This was pure fun.
At once he remembered the plan that Tosh had given him; he knew that he should push Liam, the lemon drop beagle.
"This is our batch right now," Hagi said, feeling more than just a little embarrassed at how small it was. Sherman, however, didn't seem to notice, as his cloud became pink, orange, and a little fuzzy.
"I… I, how do I approach them, will they hurt me?"
"Hurt you? We wouldn't be giving them out if we thought it was likely that they'd hurt people!"
Sherman had a smile growing on his face, as he knelt down and awkwardly waited for one of the animals to disengage from Gary's toy waving and ball throwing and come over to him. Gary noticed as much, and threw the toy into the little pool of animals, and made his way over to Sherman. Gary, never the most sociable, asked: "Open to suggestions?"
Hagi lifted eyebrows at him.
"Uh, um… yeah, I'm, not really sure what I'm looking for."
"Cat or dog?"
"Dog."
Gary smiled smugly. All according to plan. "Liam! Liam, c'mere boy."
A little white and light brown short haired dog bounded over and went straight into Gary's open arms. He scooped the little guy up, and showed him off to Sherman.
"This guy's named Liam. He's the perfect pet. Wanna know why? Well, he's low maintenance. That's his entire thing. He needs significantly less food and water than most — we'd suggest about a meal every other day, and… well, the common dog etiquette is to fill the water bowl when it's dry, but I doubt you'll need to very often."
"No sh-shit?"
Gary handed Sherman the beagle, who yapped once in excitement for meeting a new person.
"No, he still poops."
Hagi gave Gary a look.
"I mean, yep! No shit! That's his whole thing. Perfect for any city-goer, such as yourself."
Sherman brought the dog close to his face and rested his cheek on its head — well, for as long as he could, before it pulled away enough to lick him. Sherman closed his eyes, and let the dog coat his cheek and forehead in doggie kisses. Gary looked at Hagi, who shrugged, content to let him have his moment.
Sherman sat down without opening his eyes, still being loved by the dog, and began to gently pet it. His aura turned a calm, watery blue.
Gary was getting a bit impatient.
"So…"
"When can I have him?"
Hagi smiled wide. "You can reserve Liam for a small fee of $15 while we look to make sure you're fit to be a dog owner — sorry, an unusual dog owner. Should only take…" Hagi looked around her, thankfully finding that Tosh had heard her pause.
"Less than a week."
Hagi smiled at him, silently thanking his addition. "Less than a week. We'd just need a way to contact you —"
Sherman pulled a pen out of his pocket and produced a pad of paper from inside his hoodie. Quickly, he wrote down an email, and handed it to Hagi.
"Is… is that all? I'll receive an email and come by?"
"When you come by, we'll need to see a receipt for dog food, and pictures of where you intend for them to sleep, just so we know that you're preparing for owning a dog." Hagi realized just how ruthless this must be, and was quick to add: "We just want to make sure we're giving them the best lives we can."
Sherman nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, y- of course, I understand. Th-then, uh… I'll, go." Hagi led the way back to the lobby. "Thank you so much, no one's come to visit and I just, I need a pal, and, my last furry pal isn't with me anymore, and I can't tell you how happy I was to see that we were finally getting a pet shop around here, I'm just so, so… happy. Thank you." Sherman walked out into the main lobby. "Thank you," he said as his gloved hands pushed $15 into Hagi's. And as he walked out the door, "thank you!"
The bells of the door tinkled as he stepped back out into the streets of Three Portlands, and slowly walked out of view.
Hagi stuffed the $15, along with the email, into a little cubby behind her desk labelled "Liam". She had thirty such cubbies, as that was the number of animals this place was built to hold at a single time. After the money was logged, Hagi looked up, with a huge smug smile on her face.
"First bull in the stampede, I reckon."
"Ohh, shut it." Tahirih said, half turned away from Hagi so as to suppress a smile… but Hagi could tell. They held meaningful eye contact for a good second or two, and then Tahirih began to walk towards the back. "I've gotta talk to Tosh about this."
Hagi was secure in the knowledge that they were going to share good news. The pet shelter was going smooth and they hadn't been open for more than an hour. A load of anxiety slumped off of her shoulders and fell onto the floor. They'd done it.
One small step for man, one huge step for Wilson-kind.
As another young fellow approached the front glass doors, Hagi knew in her heart that everything was going to be alright.


« SCP-4373
Site Director Boris Vilakova woke to light filtering through the waves outside his bedroom's porthole. As usual the first thing he thought of was O5-1's email last month. Boris closed his eyes. Despite his attempts to do otherwise, his mind locked onto that message with immobilizing obsession until the aroma of pan-fried ham pulled him out of his bunk faster than his duties ever could. He followed the scent out of his quarters and down to the Site-189 kitchens where Researcher Grooms stood over the stove top.
"I thought we were saving the pork." Boris questioned before grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting at the kitchen table.
"I'm tired of fish and don't you dare mention whale." Grooms replied, not bothering to look up. "The supply shipment should be here soon anyway."
Boris shrugged.
"You didn't have to listen to the sounds the whales made as they were put down. They are smart enough to know they are about to be slaughtered." Grooms looked off into space for a moment as he talked.
"Its better than another cascade event. Besides, the Foundation isn't going to raise our budget any time soon." Boris shook his head before sighing, "But I won't pass up a change in breakfast. Bacon's got nothing on minke for greasiness."
A loud clank against the hull of the site interrupted the prospect of breakfast. Vilakova raised his brow and turned in the direction of the sudden noise. Another pang on the metalwork of the sea lab brought the Site Director out of his seat. A third bang on the airlock followed by a deep bellow had the two of them scrambling for their spearguns.
"GEORGIE!" Someone screeched in the water outside, the pitch vibrated something thin and fragile in their minds.
"Georgie?" Researcher Grooms recognized that name. "You don't think its that SPC agent I interviewed do you?" Grooms looked over to Boris as the bolt to the exterior door of the airlock moved in periodic jolts.
"We amnesticized him. He shouldn't remember this place, much less that we brought his porpoise here."
The airlock door creaked open and filled the space with sea water as the figure of Coach Russel flowed in. He closed the door and ripped off his re-breather, exposing bloodshot eyes and a look of sleepless mania.
"I'm coming for you, Georgie!" Russel screamed at the two of them.
"Do… do we call for a Task Force?" Grooms asked as Russel struggled against the reinforced lock of the interior door.
"They are just going to ask why we can't take care of it ourselves. You know what? I would have to agree with them on this one." Boris raised his speargun towards the door and trained it on Russel, "This site is for authorized personnel only! You have thirty seconds to leave before we…"
"Um… Boris?" Grooms tapped on Boris's shoulder and pointed him towards the kitchen porthole.
Just outside the windows floated pods of dolphins and Minke whales, each one staring directly at the two of them. Their black eyes reflected the baffled faces of Director Vilakova and Researcher Grooms before a high pitch whine twisted them into an agonized grimaces.
Russel cried out as he threw himself against the reinforced glass door.
The porpoise and whale chatter grew in volume and forced Boris's eyes closed. Amid flashes of pain he saw images of unblinking eyes glowing in the darkness, weighing on him like boulders. Static washed over his senses until he felt the speargun drop out of his hand. He keeled over and landed on his back next to Grooms as the sound of cracking reinforced glass filled the air.
"Where is my Georgie? Why do I keep hearing him? Why can't I get his screams out of my head?" Russel broke down in front of the two and wept.

The ocean was quiet. Other than the wind lapping the waves and the familiar hum of the motorboat's engine, Researcher Nia heard nothing at all. She took a jar tied to a bit of rope and lowered it into the ocean, some of the water splashed up as it sank under the waves. She let the glass jar float for a few moments before pulling it back out. The jar was full of sea water and a few small shards of plastic. Nia filled several more jars in the same manner and turned the motorboat around to head back to shore.

When Nia arrived back at shore she found her wife, Researcher Graylin, sitting on the beach just as she had expected. What Nia hadn't expected, however was that one of her colleagues was also there. Coach Damon, the one of the leaders of the Shark Punching Center branch in America, sat on an ice chest looking across the sea with a bored look on his face. Nia got the boat as close to shore as she possibly could and stepped out of it walking towards them. Damon stood to his feet and stepped to the side.
"What are you doing here, sir?" Nia asked.
"Good question!' Coach Damon said with a sudden smile. He reached down and unclasped the ice chest's list.
"So something weird has happened and I want to get my science girls take on it. You see, I was out fishing with the boys, I've had a lot of free time ever since we started using Pattern Screamers to punch sharks, and I caught this." Damon lifted the lid then stepped back with a dramatic flourish. Inside was ice and nothing else."
"Sir, there's nothing in there."
"Precisely." Coach Damon had a self-satisfied look on his face. "Now, I'll confess that I'm not the world's greatest fisherman or anything, I'm more of the old school fisticuffs type, but I think that even I should have caught at least something after three days of deep water fishing."
Nia nodded. She motioned towards the jars of water in the back of her boat.
"Water samples?" Damon asked.
"Exactly. Though it's not the water I'm checking directly, it's the things living it. I need to get some readings on the plankton levels in here."
"So you've noticed it to? It's like everything in the ocean just disappeared"
"Is there anyone who hasn't?" Damon opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then hesitated. It was true, whatever weirdness was going on in the ocean had been talked about in the Center for more than a month already.
"Fair point…" Damon said somewhat sheepishly. He shook his head "So I suppose that means we all agree that this is a problem right?" The two women nodded in near unison.
"Excellent, now what do we do about it?"
"Well…"

Damon took another sip of coffee and looked over the email one more time just to make sure that it wasn't a hallucination. Unfortunately reality did not bend to remove it and it remained staring at him.

To: Coach Damon
From: Charles Plinth
Thank you for your concern and for contacting me about this issue of yours. So, I know that you and your blokes are really concerned about the cute little fishes and crabs and barnacles and want us to do something about it. Well, we've come to a decision. And that decision is a firm 'no'. Thanks to the Pattern Screamers, we've punched 99% of all sharks. As we speak the Grand Pugilator is on the verge of announcing total victory over the Selachian menace. We're even turning SPC-682 back into a gecko so that we won't be stuck with him as the last shark in the world. So in short, while I do see your concern and the fish caught in the crossfire are unfortunate, we, an organization formed explicitly to fight sharks simply cannot afford to pass up an opportunity to KO the entire Selachian Order. Sorry, but the Screamers are here to stay.
Sincerely, Charles Plinth, Bodacious Assembly
P.S. Also fuck you.

Damon nearly punched the computer, but managed to stop himself thanks to his years of Selachian Pugilition training. He took several deep breaths just as he had practiced, then got up from his desk to find something to eat. He got himself a bowl of multigrain cereal, but he had only eaten one bite when he got an urgent phone call from Graylin.
"Yeah" he said into his cellphone while holding his cereal bowl with his other hand.
"It's bad…" Graylin said "Really, really bad." Damon took a deep breath.
"I'm ready."
"We've lost half our plankton." Graylin explained "This isn't a mistake, the ocean is being emptied. If this is what happens after a month I'm not sure that I want to know what will be going on in a year. Assuming that any of us are still alive." Damon cringed a bit at that last line. To anyone else it may sound like doomsowing and fear-mongering, but after what he had seen he bought it.
"So what's the diagnosis if we lose all ocean life."
"Well… after the massive climate change from the atmosphere losing most of its oxygen production, total collapse of all fishing based cultures, mass unemployment and major hit to the world economy… I say that it will be pretty bad." Damon bit his lip; for nearly the first time in his life he had no clue what to do. His mind was blank.
"They said they won't stop it."
"What?"
"Sorry, I tried but… look, we all oppose sharks. We're in the SPC after all. But the current Assembly, they're batshit about shark punching. Like, I've noticed the Assembly getting more and more radicalized for a while now, but even I hadn't known they were this bad. It's like… like…"
"Fuck." Graylin suddenly said from the other line "It's that bad huh?"
"Yeah…"
"Fuck." there was silence on the other end for several seconds before Damon heard a long, tired sigh.
"Okay… I had thought of a contingency in case of this." She took a deep breath. "I know this is going to be… untraditional… but…" She sighed again. "If the Center isn't going to help us, maybe we can find someone who can…. I think we should call the SCP Foundation." Damon wanted to suddenly loudly yell 'What', but he stopped himself when he realized that actually sounded like a good idea.
"You… you sure?" he asked, sounding somewhat sheepish.
"I think so… I don't know what else to do really. Also…" Graylin continued, "I tried to get in touch with Gibraltar, the place where they're training these things, and no one got back to me except Charles." Something went off inside Damon's brain at the mention of that.
"Well… I guess that settles it." As much as he hated to admit it, they really were running out of options. "Do you have that Boris guy's number?"

Boris felt as if he was in two places at once. He could still feel himself lying on the cold metal floor, but at the same time he could feel another place. And that place was nowhere. Infinite nothingness seemed to squeeze in from all sides, crushing him smaller than a proton, it wasn't empty space that surrounded him. It was absolutely nothing.
Then he felt something slam on his ears and he was pulled back to reality. Director Vilakova saw Grooms looming over him. He reached his hand up and felt at his ears. Grooms had given him earplugs, the military grade type. They didn't fully block out the sound, but they blocked it out enough. Boris smiled as he realized that Grooms had been prepared. Grooms pulled him to his feet then they both ran over and grabbed Russel before dragging him deeper into the facility. At first Russel seemed near catatonic, but when they got further from the corrupted whales, he started to blink. When they reached a storage room at the center of Site-189, he sat up.
"Shit…" Boris shook his head as they collected themselves. "So that's what it feels like to be a shark who hears this…"
Russel seemed shaken but steadily got up to his feet.
"I… I thought that SPC-3930 only worked on sharks." Russel stammered out.
"Apparently they're getting more powerful…" Grooms huffed before signalling the group towards the submarine bay.
"The Assembly just sanctioned SPC-3930's use for the entire Center. We've raised thousands of dolphins for it." Russel shuddered as they carried him into the bay and leaned him on the railing of the sub pool.
"In to the pod." Boris pointed Russel to the submarine hatch while Grooms tiptoed onto the submersible to unlatch it.
"They can follow us out there," Russel warned them as he followed Grooms down the sub hatch.
"The sub's audio insulated. That plus the plugs should keep us safe until we reach land," Vilakova insisted, and sealed the hatch behind them.
The three secured themselves as Grooms keyed in the command to detach from the site dock. The bolt jolted and shook the occupants as it pulled out and the submersible sunk another meter into the water.
"We need to go to Gibraltar." Russel turned both the Foundation staffs' heads at the comment.
"You want to head to Gibraltar in this thing? Over 800 km of open ocean with those dolphins and who knows what else out there?" Grooms checked his sanity.
"I have friends there that will help. They have the common sense that the assembly has punched out of themselves." Russel nodded.
"Do it. We'll send a report to Coastal Site-131 once we surface." Boris silenced Grooms' concerns.
Grooms piloted the submarine down and out of the dock where the hulking form of a humpback whale awaited them just beyond the site foundation struts.
"Don't worry, they won't hurt us." Russel reassured them.
"Given what just happened, I'm not inclined to believe you." Director Vilakova narrowed his eyes at the SPC agent.
"They are just regular dolphins other than the sound they can make. Georgie was always just a regular old dolphin besides the whole paralyzing noise thing." Russel nodded as Grooms piloted the vessel out from under Site-189, "Speaking of, where is Georgie? I miss my little buddy."
"Um…" Grooms froze in his seat at the question.
"He was released last week," Boris answered with the unflinching tone of a professional liar. Boris and Grooms exchanged nervous glances and the director shrugged.
Russel sighed. "It's just… when I dream I keep getting images of him in pain. I also smell something with the images, are you normally supposed to be able to smell stuff in a dream?"
"What smell?" Grooms asked feeling concerned. Outside the window he saw packs of whales floating past them as the submarine neared the surface.
"Yeah, it smells pleasant but something about it makes me queasy. I get this taste like beef liver in my mouth when I think of it." Russel shuddered at the memory, "I just hope Georgie is doing well out there. It's a big ocean after all…"

"Okay…" Russel said as he looked at a computer monitor. "Looks like we'll be arriving at the base in… maybe half a day."
"Thank god for that." Grooms muttered. He pointed with his thumb out the port-hole. Dolphins and whales surrounded the submarine on all sides. They were the only sea life that the group had met for miles. Grooms looked away from the porthole and tried to ignore the song that was still leaking in through the walls.
"We need to lose them," Grooms said. "I want to get a message off to Site-131 as soon as possible."
"There is no way they can keep up with this submarine at its top speed," Boris said, looking at a blue whale swimming behind the submarine. "In an hour we'll surface and send the signal." As soon as the words were out of his mouth though, he realized that, given what he knew of the universe, he couldn't dismiss the possibility they could keep up with the submarine. Still, they really didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Boris shook his head and walked towards the back of the sub where he wouldn't have to look at the Celachians chasing after them.

Sure enough, two hours later the Celachians had fallen out of sight and they had a clear shot to the surface. Grooms pulled the submarine up and they slowly rose to the surface, emerging under bright morning sunlight. The top of the submarine breached the surface, exposing its antenna to the air and allowing for two-way communication. Grooms sent in a radio signal to Site-131; it only took a few seconds to get a response.
"Are you still alive?" A feminine voice from the other end came in.
"For now. Site-189 was attacked by porpoises."
"Porpoises?"
"Yes, porpoises. And there were even some dolphins with them." Grooms said, suddenly he realized how exhausted he felt.
"Yes, the SCP-4373-1 entities, the one we've been dealing with." Boris joined the line to confirm.
"Understood, come back to Site-131. I think the Site Director will want to see your findings." The operator relayed orders.
"Roger that, but we'll be stopping at Gibraltar. There's an SPC base there we'll be stopping by." Boris took command of the line as he stared out the rear porthole.
"SPC… you mean the Shark Punching Center?"
"Yes, we have an agent of theirs with us."
The voice on the other end was silent, but after a few seconds she continued.
"Okay… just… be careful there."
"We will."
"I had been expecting a call from you two," a new voice said, suddenly butting into the conversation. Boris recognized the new speaker as the director of Site-131, Elijah Baley.
"The Foundation have been sending out marine MTFs for two weeks straight. Something big is happening but I'm not sure what it is yet. We received a communication from the SPC, addressed to you, Boris. I was hoping you could shed some light onto why they would be reaching out to you."
"I've spent more of my life under the waves than above them, Director Baley. That has afforded me more than one interaction with the Center."
"All the same, the recent sequence of events has left the bigwigs rather… concerned about you," Elijah prattled on the line.
"If they had taken me seriously to begin with, there would be no events to arouse such concern," Boris sighed before pacing back to his seat. "Now can you forward me the message?"
"Forwarding now. Good luck out there, Boris."

"I think we're here."
The lights of the Shark Punching Center main assembly hall glowed bright orange in the murky dark of the deep waters. Overhead and not far to their east lay Gibraltar where Site-131 waited for word from the O5 council to begin another fish restocking mission.
"Awfully quiet here. I thought the place would be swarming with cetaceans." Grooms grimaced at the grim emptiness of the waters in front of them.
"We rounded up most of the local ones for training with SPC-3930. They should be in a pool beneath the main assembly."
"Get us in there, Grooms," Boris commanded.
"One second, broadcasting docking codes. You should see some lights guiding you to the sub bay." Russel punched a number in to the comm station and a string of lights lit up along the ocean floor in response.
Grooms piloted the sub along them and under the titanic structure of the assembly hall until they spotted an open dock above. The submarine breached the surface of the docking pool and a mechanical arm extended to lock onto their ship. Boris unlatched the hatch of the submarine and let it creak open in the empty submarine bay. He raised his head out of the craft and scanned the area before pulling the rest of himself out before being passed a speargun by Grooms.
"Ok, now where is this pool they are keeping the dolphins at?" Boris asked as the three of them vaulted over the pool railing of the empty bay.
"We have a mass training facility beneath the assembly hall. This way." Russel motioned towards the exit across the multitude of parked submarines.
The three walked down the empty corridors amid a spine-tingling quiet. The halls were empty, like the building had been abandoned.
"Is this place always so quiet?" Grooms asked.
"No," Russel said. "This is new…" In the distance, the ghostly wailing of whales echoed from the deep beyond the hall portholes. Russel brought them to a stairwell and led them down until they approached a metallic doorway marked "Training Center/Centre".
"So, what is this Foundation of yours going to do when they get here?" Russel cleared his throat before broaching the topic.
"Probably release them depending on global cetacean population level." Boris brought a sigh of relief out of Russel with the news.
"Oh good. I was fearing they would just kill them all. Maybe they can find Georgie out there when released?"
"I wouldn't count on it. Like you said, it's a big ocean out there." Grooms kept his face taut as they came up to the door. "Also, shouldn't have we seen some more of you Center guys by now?" The place felt near abandoned, Grooms couldn't even remember hearing footsteps in the entire facility.
"We have been busy finishing off the Selachian menace. The Center went into high gear once we confirmed the effectiveness of SPC-3930. I barely got a day's rest between missions before the whale calls started getting to me." Russel shook his head and rubbed his temple at the memory, "I wonder if anyone else got those dreams."
"Let's hope no one's home then." Boris motioned Grooms towards the entry and raised his speargun in preparation for the unknown.

Nia sighed and closed the comm line after the sixth attempt to contact the SPC base in Gibraltar.
"Still no answer and the emergency line is broadcasting a red alert."
"Well shit. The docking clamps look like they're on lockdown too." Damon twisted his lips in contemplation. "And it looks like Boris beat us here if that SCP sub docked there is any indication."
Damon pointed out the forward window at the Foundation insignia on the docked submarine. Nia and Graylin paced to the front of the sub and watched whales circle above the base. Their calls vibrated along the walls of the sub and the nerves of its crew.
"I… I think we need to get in there." Nia pressed her hand on the glass and felt the vibrations reinforce the idea. "Now."
"Well the docking bay is a no-go," Damon reiterated.
"Do we not have weapons on this thing?" Graylin slumped into a seat and mused.
"We're not the Shark Exploding Center." Nia shook her head, "Although I've seen some impressive arguments for explosive punching techniques."
"Well, there is an idea." Damon rubbed his chin, then he smiled, "I think we can use some explosive punching techniques of our own."
"Damon… what are you planning?" Nia looked at the coach and raised a brow.
"Buckle up."

Grooms and Russel pushed against the large steel ingress which squeaked as it turned on its hinges until the three stood with their mouths gaping at the sight. Before them was a massive pool filled with chattering porpoises and the bloated remains of countless humans. Russel staggered up to the waterline and dropped to his knees as dolphins swarmed around him.
"Wha… what? Why?" Russel stammered out as the porpoises gathered about a point and hoisted a body out of the water.
"It is the trade we made. Easy payment for the end of the Selachian threat." The dolphins pushed the figure of Charles Plinth out of the water; his bloated eyes glowed with a dim orange light and tracked the three of them with bloodshot intensity. Russel heard the sound of Grooms puking behind him as Charles stepped foot out of the water. "The era of the shark is over! Our allies deep in the void require only our lives as payment. A fair bargain if you ask me."
"You… you brought them all down here. Didn't you?!" Russel shot up to his feet, raised his speargun, and fired on Charles without a second thought.
The spear flew out the gun with a burst of pressurized air and lodged itself in Charles' chest. Charles pulled a waterlogged limb up to the spear and yanked it free without so much as a flinch. Nothing flowed out of the new opening in his body. Charles grinned and nothing leaked out the edges of his mouth, dripping down his face. Two more spears struck him but they did no more than the first. Charles turned the spear around aiming it at Russel. The SPC Coach switched to a boxing stance, but the thing that had used to be Charles jumped forward and stabbed at him with the spear. Russel cursed and staggered back, narrowly dodging the strike.
The song from the Cetaceans in the tank started growing in intensity, creating an eerie choir. A few of the other corpses started moving slightly. Grooms suddenly shouted and jumped forward before bashing Charles over the head with his empty speargun. The blow snapped Charles neck with a loud crack and sent him stumbling forward. Charles yelled something incoherent and spun around, slashing with the spear. He glanced Groom's cheek causing an arc of blood to fly out and the researcher to scream.
Charles pulled the spear back then stabbed forward, but Grooms raised his arm just in time and the spear sunk into his bicep shooting a small geyser of blood. Russel ran at Charles from behind, but the dead man slammed his spear back, hitting Russel in the gut and knocking him off his feet. He raised his spear and aimed it at Groom's neck… but then there was a massive crash noise from right behind them and the entire base shook. By the time Charles refocused himself on the intruders, Boris had closed the distance and thrust the open gas tank of his speargun into the engorged monstrosity.

Nia forced herself to her feet amid the shattered glass of the submarine deck. Water leaked in through the cracks of the breach they had made in the hull of the base. Her head was ringing. She spat blood to the side and then took several shaking steps forward, nearly collapsing again in the process. She carefully made her way over some torn metal before she ran into Damon, who was standing with a wide smile on his face despite the expansive cut on his forehead.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Nia yelled at him. "You could have gotten us killed!"
"Could have!" Damon said excitedly, "But I didn't."
Nia spat out some more blood. Damon stepped through the hole in the plate glass and into the SPC base they had just crashed the submarine into. Nia followed him out after pulling Graylin to her feet and out of the vessel lodged into the wall. On the inside the emergency lights had turned on and water was leaking in, coming up to their ankles so far but gradually rising. Their were not nearly as many SPC Agents in the base as Nia had expected. The few who were there were mostly concerned with avoiding the rising water and didn't pay the group much mind. Damon suddenly took a turn through a door to the right and Nia realized that he was not walking aimlessly; he actually knew where he was going.
"I think this is it…" he said as they arrived at a heavy metal door which already seemed partly open. The squeezed inside and found three men, none of whom Nia recognized and one of whom was gushing blood, stabbing a… thing lying on the ground with spears. Behind them was an immense tank full of dolphins and human corpses. Nia gagged and Graylin took a step backwards.
"Boris? Grooms?" Damon called out. One of the men stopped stabbing the entity and looked up at him.
"Coach Damon I presume?"
"Come on, we're your backup." Damon pointed behind him, and after a moment's hesitation the three men ran over to him. They squeezed back out into the rapidly flooding base and started running.
"You guys have your own submarine right?" Coach Damon asked them.
"Actually, yes. I think I know how to get to where it is from here." Behind them the whale song that had been omnipresent throughout their time in the base started to grow in volume. Boris remembered the feeling of being compressed infinitely small and realized that soon the possessed dolphins would be able to swim to reach them.
"I think it's time we got out of here…" he said as he grabbed Grooms and helped him stand up.
The group ran down almost half a dozen corridors filled with not much more than water before they once again reached the submarine. Fortunately the submarine was still above water. Unfortunately the mechanical arm was still locking it in place. Damon muttered under his breath and pulled out his cell phone.
"I'm gonna call Eric, hopefully he's still here." As Damon did that, Boris walked over and started examining the arm, trying to think of a way to break the submarine out of it.
"You know…" Nia said, "It looks like the submarine will be underwater soon. Can't we just use the sub's own motor to break away once we're fully underwater?" Damon hesitated, but when he noticed that no one was picking up his call he shrugged. The water had reached up to their waists.
"Everyone in." The group boarded the submarine and closed the hatch behind them. Grooms caught a glimpse of glowing eyes watching them from the surrounding water. Soon enough, the water level rose high enough and Grooms lowered the ship, using only his good hand to manipulate the controls. The mechanical arm resisted, but the water and damage from the sub impacting the facility seemed to have weakened it. Grooms set the submarine forward at full gear and it broke away, trailing bits of damaged machinery behind it. They shot down and then forward, leaving the base behind and emerging into dark water illuminated by nothing but their own lights.
The darkness was thick around them, dropping their visibility to zero everywhere except straight ahead. And in the dim area illuminated by the submarine they could see swarming dolphins, whales and porpoises. Hundreds of them. Even through their ear plugs and the submarine's soundproofing, everyone could still hear their song. Researcher Grooms continued forward regardless of them, and turned course to head in the direction of Coastal Site-131.


"…can't reach me, look to Field Officer Fitzgerald - behind the bar, the one with the shaved head. Work with a soft touch tonight, team. It's not about the loot we take away, it's about the discord we leave behind. Chapman's out of bounds, but the artists are the weak link here, so go ahead and bring 'em down a few pegs."
- MTF Mu-3 Squad Leader Al Yorston

The venue looked perfect; understated extravagance, glamorous without being tacky. The marble floor sparkled and the chandeliers dangled and Emma Martin hated every part of it. The deep blues and layered paint on the canvasses seemed shallow and insignificant in the enormous room, and her sculptures, the ones with the unnatural angles and textured meanings which cast impossible shadows, were drowned out in cloying, heavy light. Goddamn it! This was Melbourne, this was her city. And the auction, her art was being displayed at a fucking casino instead of the studio, her studio. This was shaping up to be worse than the fiasco in Milan.
Lost in her thoughts, Emma didn't pay any mind to James' nervous hand-wringing - didn't realize that it precipitated the approach of their benefactor, the broker.
"Hello, Miss Martin."
Forcing a smile, she turned and greeted Gerald Chapman. James nodded vaguely, carefully avoiding eye contact with the man.
"We've run into a … problem. With one of the installations," Gerald flatly informed her.
Already following him across the floor between individual displays and clusters of viewers, she asked which installation it was. James tagged along behind Emma like a shadow.
"The car. With the reality bending windscreen."
Emma's brow furrowed. "Ivan's Bentley? What problem; what happened?"
This project was Ivan's pride and joy; he would have liked to showcase it at Sommes-Nous Devenus Magnifiques?, but hadn't been able to acquire the necessary materials before this 'sponsorship deal', as he insistently termed their relationship with Marshall, Carter, and Dark. That modified Bentley was a life-changing expression of powerlessness and anxiety and-
"It crashed."
"What do you mean 'it crashed'? The car doesn't move, Gerald."
"It's not supposed to move. But the wheel blocks failed… somehow… and it fell from its pedestal."
Emma's heart sank as they came upon the wreckage in the foyer. The rear end of the car pointed at an angle toward the ceiling, the crumpled front end rested on the ground, the dented chassis hung up on the edge of the raised platform. Men in clean gray coveralls - contracted labourers - buzzed about the scene, tidying up broken glass and debris while incoming guests were ushered around the now-ruined central display. "All four of the wheel blocks?"
Mr Chapman's typically stoic face, Emma noticed, betrayed a flicker of frustration. "Yes, all four. Can you think of how that possibly might have happened?" Emma tried to think of how to respond, but came up with nothing. James shrunk even further behind her, like a nervous toddler. Thankfully, Gerald's attention shifted to one of the labourers. "You! Don't junk that. I want all those glass bits bagged up and brought to the back office, understood?" The man in coveralls nodded as he tipped the contents of his dustpan into a bag.

"That's the car out of action. Got us a sample of that glass too, it's stuck to the underside of catering's trolley number seven right now. … No, they can't pin the accident on anyone. We're good."
- MTF Mu-3 Agent Hardy

Ivan was smiling. The party guests he was speaking to, a jolly heavyset man and his beautiful wife (or maybe his beautiful mistress, Ivan hadn't asked), drifted away into the crowd. Meanwhile Emma approached hesitantly; James was in tow, and even more hesitant.
"Em," Ivan spun around and beamed at her. This uncharacteristically chipper mood was making breaking the news about the car harder than it already was. "Guess what? This couple was just telling me what huge fans they are of Oswaldo. And you'll never guess what."
"Ivan,"
"They loved - loved! - Smith's Last Ride. That lady, she really got it, you know? Really appreciated what I was aiming for. And the guy, he's just gotta have it, he says. He'll pay whatever it takes, he says."
"Ivan…"
"I almost hate to see it go like that, y'know? But man, that big commish might finally put us over. Just what we need to finally cut these strings loose, know what I mean? Like, how long do we really want to keep all this going? When do we get back to working for us, right?"
"Ivan!"
"… What?"

"Yeah, we gassed him up good. … And he'll hear about the other bit soon enough? … Well, we'll see what happens. Won't be anything good, I don't think."
- MTF Mu-3 Agent McCray

"WHAT!"
If anyone's attention wasn't drawn by the shocked outburst, the drink glass shattering on the floor got it done.
"No! NO! What?! Nooo!"
"Ivan, calm down."
"How can they let that happen? How?!" Ivan paced and fumed. "These vultures! High flying scavengers! Useless fucking swine!"
Two members of the event's security staff were closing the distance to the outraged artist. Ivan, unexpectedly, snatched the drink from the hand of the nearest guest too stunned to react. He raised it above his head and, for half a second looked as though he might whip it at one of the guards. But instead he threw it down on the same spot as his first glass, then turned away and stormed to the exit.
In but a moment the tense atmosphere evaporated, and the event resumed its previous gaiety. So such was the case for the guests; Gerald Chapman's tension was still running high as he strode rapidly across the room. His stoic composure was past its limits.
With a nod of her head, Emma bid James to go after Ivan; keep him from more trouble, much as it's possible. And to spare James whatever Gerald was about to unload on them now.
"What in the hell was that?"
"What do you think, Gerald? He's upset because you let his work ge-"
"No," he cut her off. "This is unacceptable. Do you even realize how many tantrums I've had to put up with from you lot? Do you have any idea the stresses I endure trying to make you and your little friends here into something worth a damn?"
A dour look shaded Emma Martin's face as Mr. Chapman carried on. She had heard enough. She raised a hand, palm outward, bidding a moment of silence. "Not. Now."
Chapman glared harshly. "We will talk after this."

"Negative, do not pursue. … Don't let the real goons get him either. … The artists walk. Period. They've played perfectly for us tonight, it's the least we can do.
-MTF Mu-3 Squad Leader Al Yorston

Emma found herself standing at the bar, staring down a cocktail. She had ordered it and stood and stared for what seemed like forever. A voice brought her back to the moment.
"Your order alright, ma'am?"
"Oh," she looked up. "Yes, thank you." She took a sip and smiled politely at the bartender.
He nodded and smiled back. Glancing down the length of the bar and seeing no waiting orders he turned to her. "So," he gestured broadly toward the party. "What do you think about all this?"
Emma gave the bartender a curious look. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I mean you don't look like a lot of the other ladies here tonight - oh, no offense - what I mean to say is, you look like you're really here for the art. Like you know your stuff."
'Of course I do' Emma thought to herself. 'Does he not recognize who I am?'
"So I'm wondering if you think all this dressing suits the scene, or is it maybe a bit too… like, commercial?"
Emma's eyes widened. She sucked on her straw to mask any larger reaction. 'Too commercial, he said?' She drained her glass and was slurping at ice.
"Get you one more of those?"
"Please."
While he poured and mixed, she thought back on this past year. How much had she really enjoyed it? How many pieces had she made and felt no connection with? How many times had she been talked down to and pushed around by this broker fellow? She thought about what Ivan had said earlier, about cutting the strings loose. 'When do we get back to working for us?'
"Here you are, ma'am."
"Well, what do you think? Is all of this stuff here 'too commercial'?"
"Oh, I dunno ma'am. I mean, I'm sure I've heard that real artists don't do it for the money, or something like that probably." With a shrug he added "But hey, ya gotta live, right?"
A thirsty patron down the bar drew the bartender away from the conversation, but Emma spoke anyway to the back of his shaved head.
"Yes," she resolved. "I have got to live."

"Yeah chief, I'm pretty sure we clinched it. … Follow-up monitoring will confirm. But I don't think this will be going any further. … Small victories, chief. Small victories.
- MTF Mu-3 Field Officer Fitzgerald


Black Queen Rust opening this meeting.
Black Queen Delta reporting in.
Black Queen Yetta here. Sister Crosscut's busy tying up loose ends right now.
She can catch up when she gets here.
Just to be clear, this isn't a record of something we found, right? This is just a little meeting to discuss what happened.
Every new recruit needs an introduction. Crosscut's new, so we just need to go over how Yetta got her here.
Did you fill out the logs I asked for, Yetta?
Yep. Got the transcripts all ready.
Then could you please load the first log?
Gimme a minute. Here.

Is this—okay, good. Mission log, Black Queen Yetta, entering new timeline 152-Juliet-Sigma, day zero. I'm only really doing this because Delta wanted me to make a log as I went along, so she could record it for future sisters or something like that—

We established all this already. Can we please move on to the new information?
Hey, be happy I actually did these logs. Most of our sisters wouldn't have even bothered, so if you have a problem with them, just live with it.
Sisters, calm down. We haven't even been here five minutes. Yetta, could you load the next log?
Coming right up.

Mission log, Black Queen Yetta, day two. Opening and getting through the Way went okay, especially since I had a soul to lock on to. Ended up in some mining town in West Virginia. Yesterday was spent scouting the town out and eating some stuff I brought with me, and what she said about gangs running this town was right. I'm gonna check more of what Delta gave me, see who here could be who we want. Next entry's gonna be whenever I figure out who I'm after.

Delta, you didn't tell Yetta who she was looking for?
My analysis of the soul I detected was unable to establish who it may have belonged to. Yetta's objective was to find them.
So you asked me to go in without any knowledge of who I was actually supposed to be finding? How did you know that they weren't part of the Foundation or something?
I would have thought my not telling you any names would have been sufficient to illustrate that point.
I thought you were just in a bit of a rush, and the name was buried in the stuff you gave me.
Delta, you cannot ask your sisters to find something when you yourself don't even know what you're looking for.
I supplied Yetta with all the information I had. If she had read through it all, she would have realized that it was her job to find the owner of the soul. Judging by the last log, she clearly did.
I wasn't able to get through all the info because I was in a rush to find and bring back the soul's owner!
Sisters, please, we can work all of this out later. Yetta, be assured I will talk with Delta about this. Now, could we please confine and load the next log?
Sure. Just a heads up, the recorder got a little banged up around the time I made this log, so I think some of the log may be cut out.

Mission log, Black Queen Yetta, day three. Turns out that the person Delta wanted me to find might be one of our sisters. Now I don't actually know yet, I haven't actually seen them, and there aren't any of the usual signs of magic around here. But according to some of the water cooler chat I overheard there's a negotiator in town who goes by the name of the Black Queen, apparently [static] crown. I do actually have to see her to confirm this, even though it's pretty cut and dry looking to me. Next log will probably be after I see her and confirm if it is a sister.

Hold on, let you me get the next one. It's like an hour later.

Mission log, Black Queen Yetta, day three log two. My hunch was right, turns out. Alison Chao, known as the Black Queen, or her other nickname of Crosscut, is hiding in an empty office two buildings down the road. [static] get eyes on her and leave, then try and figure out her schedule so I could talk to her, and maybe convince her to come to the Library. It didn't quite work out like that [static] work, dammit. Anyway, everybody had guns out in each other's faces, and the fence [static] I fell right through, directly into the deal. Next thing I know, somebody was holding a gun to my head. It was a solid standoff for like ten seconds, which was enough time for [static] burnt his hand almost down to bone, and I took off, running the exact opposite direction of the Alison of this timeline. The recorder got grazed by a shot in the middle of the fight, though, so there's some static. I'm gonna wait for a bit and then sneak over to the building the other Alison's in, who I'll just call Crosscut, and try to talk to her. If the dead man's switch kicks in and this is the last log anybody hears, well, it's part of the job.

Now you see the issue with not telling me recovery wasn't an issue? I got into a shootout trying to get to Crosscut.
Black Queen Crosscut, ready. Just got caught up, where are we in the timeline?
Just getting to you in fact. Anyway, shootout got a ton of attention. Bunch of cops showed up, and I think I saw an FBI car right before we left. Surprisingly fast response time.
Assuming this Foundation has agents in them, they'll certainly come across Crosscut's name.
We have a decent relationship in that timeline. I'll ask sister Phoenix if she can address that in her next meeting.
Phoenix is our envoy there, correct? We should introduce her and Crosscut here, see if she can teach Crosscut anything.
Excellent idea, sister. I'll talk to her about that as well. Now, shall we get back on track for this meeting?
I like that idea. There was only one other person in the building, and I knocked them out quick. I could hear Crosscut running around, but, well, we all used the same escape plan the first time.
Very clever of you, Yetta. How exactly did you get out of that timeline though?
That was my bad. When shit went down, I called a couple people I knew to come pick me up. By the time they got there, Yetta had done all the explaining she could. I tried to call them off, but they pretty much chased us to the Way and damn near blew my head off right as we got through. I took care of those loose ends.
I see. Before we adjourn, I believe Delta has something to say?
Yes. I would like to apologize to Yetta for sending her into a situation without properly preparing. It was entirely my fault for not further researching what the specific markers on that soul meant, and my mistake resulted in your shootout. As such, I deeply apologize for my mistakes.
Delta, I'm famous now. It's okay. Anyway, I'm gonna head out now, catch up on the history of that timeline with Crosscut. I don't think we know which type that is yet.
Very well. You two do that. I'll check back in with both of you separately later.
They left. Is there anything you wanted to say to me privately?
Actually, yes. That was a completely ridiculous stunt you just pulled, sending Yetta in without any knowledge and not telling her. I know I tried to hammer this point in already, but that is just not something you can do. I'm going to ask you to stay under Gamma's project for a while, just helping her, until me and the others agree that you get it.
I get it, Rust. Until next time.
Next time, sister. Next time.


MIND CONTROL HELMET NOTES

by eric

Attach wires to the inside of helmet

Put glitter glue on helmet's insides

Put in microwave, press 5 button twice (dont press 4 button by accident)

Cool off with ice from fridge

Did this twice but then mom got mad at me because I ran out of bike helmets, how to get more?

dear journal, yesterday a weird guy talked to me online about the helmets

I dont know why their more helmets i only made two. He said he wanted to make more

friends and i think it's good to make friends so I decided i would help him but i don't know

if I did the right thing journal. charles says you cant go wrong with helping people.

He also wanted the raygun. i thought I didnt tell anyone about it. Had to ask eskimo for

the raygun back

that raygun was important to me and I gave it to him to help. i hope I get it back

I know not everyone you meet is to trust but he did want friends

he could have asked, i woulda been his friend

good night journal

dear journal, Eskimo told me that i shouldntve given him the raygun

I told Eskimo that he was wrong because he was just a stuffed animal that didnt know

anything about real people. Then he started crying and now hes not talking to me

Sometimes I wish i had more friends, not just the stuffed animals and mom because the

stuffed animals are boring and moms always at work

Notes about animal speech collar

get Jelly's collar

Get speech box from old teddy bear he wont mind its for a good cause

Watch animal videos

Look up dog actions like tail wagging and tongue out

now I have a magic collar

now Jelly can understand me

and I can tell her about whats going on

she'll listen she's a good dog

keeps talking about a dog in asteroid belt theough

dear journal, today I got on the computer and logged into the hacker forum.

Everyone there is so much cooler than me. They all have cooler toys and can do cooler

things. They know me and they say hi to me but they arent really my friends.

I asked one of them how they made friends and they told me that they made friends

online. I dont want online friends thouh I want ones that I can see.

Friend Maker ray gun

Put earthworm Jim into spa to get friend sauce

Need raygun, charles let me borrow his

Go online to ask for secret formula, slenderbae says to delete system32

Take blender, mix them in with friend sauce

Used friend raygun on the lightswitch, now he wants to be friend! no he doesnt hes lying

I'm letting Eskimo make decisions about the raygun, no more mistakes, I cant take it

anymore

Eskimo says there were warning signs

That putting the raygun in the mail box for fake friend was a bad idea

How did fake friend got get my address?

I didnt think through this much

hey journal, why am I so nervous? I feel like somethings wrong

mom keeps talking about the news. People are getting really sick and they

cant think anymore. She was really scared about it and doesnt know what to do

Its kinda like what happened with the raygun, but it isnt a germ

So journal ive been going through forums and talking

I was on this one talking about a weird video with a guy with a hoodie

And some guys said they knew that guy

and they mentioned my helmets and raygun

That he used them

he didnt ask me

thats not fair

i'm gonna talk to him

i got his address so that should scare him

JERK

I was watching the news again, and they said that theres 4000 people whove died because

of the jerk

and Me

Hey journal

mom noticed i've been acting different lately

I dont wanna make her mad with my problems but I messed up big time

I wish I had Calculator

I dont remember where I left him but he always helped me make decisions

but i haven't talked to Jon yet

there is still time for things to work out

hes still a JERK though

He didn't listen to me

i cant stop him

hes too big

Im calling the police

journal, the jerk man wasnt online today, so I think he got arrested by the police. i wonder

what happened to the ray gun? I hope nobody found it

I was thinking, why did he do that? why did he have to be a jerk?

I tried to go on the forum but it wasnt there. I typed the name into google but i couldnt

find it, and it wasnt even in the bookmarks folder

i miss those friends

Some police people came to my house today. Mom was talking to them and they said

that they saw someone going on an illegal website

was the hacker site illegal? i didnt know I was breaking the law I was just having fun

Anyways now we dont have any internet and my moms mad at me. the stuffed animals

wont talk to me either.

I want to go back to school,

I want to make friends.

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See my Author Page for more information. If you like reading my stuff, consider checking out my YouTube Channel for SCP-inspired animations, among other things.


« Dread & Circuses Jumps The Shark | Dread & Circuses Hub | How Is Your Name? »

Icky, Manny and Lolly were gathered around Gary Gorham's phone box, each of them growing a little more impatient with every unanswered ring. The call's recipient had attempted to hang up or block them multiple times now, but Gary had succeeded in using his mildly amazing power of telephonesis to keep them on the line. Each ring carried with it a slight memetic agent to answer the phone, the effect compounding each time it went ignored. Gary's previous record for someone ignoring his calls was a mere five rings.
The phone had gone unanswered for several minutes now, and they had all lost count of the rings.
"Boss, I don't think this is going to work," Gary finally admitted, perspiration glistening on his brow. "If he hasn't picked up by now, he must be immune to the effect."
"No one's immune to memetics, just resistant," Manny replied, his hands clasped together anxiously as he perched on the edge of his seat. "He'll crack, just keep it up."
"You're sure he's still in the same room?" Icky asked quietly, leaning in to examine the analogue readout of the mechatronic switchboard.
"He is, I can feel him," Gary assured her. "It doesn't really matter anyway. So long as he knows the phone's ringing he'll be compelled to answer it, even if he can't hear it."
"Argh! I hate this! First, the jerk sells us bad drugs, then he rips off our brand, and now he's ignoring us?" Lolly huffed, folding her arms across her chest and stomping her foot. "If he won't deal with us in reality, then we should go after him in his dreams. Even if he's not part of the Collective, there are still Oneiro who can track down and incept sleeping corporeals, plus Iris's Uncle is the King of Nightmares, so -"
She went silent at the sound of someone picking up the receiver on the other end of the line. For a moment there was just soft breathing, followed by a frustrated sigh.
"Hello? Is someone there?" Gary asked hopefully. He was answered by a cheerful yet unenthusiastic voice in a strange and unplaceable accent.
"yes this is dado. owner of many fine dado business like dado speed date and colon detox. what can dado do 4 u?"
"Jesus Murphy, what the hell are you doing?" Icky demanded as she and the others recoiled from the phone at the bizarre sensory assault.
"dado talking to very perspirant customer cuz customer wouldn't stop calling and hamster can't take nap. hamster need beauty sleep. hamster have big present nation tomorrow. u sleep now hamster. dream the sweetest hamster dreams."
"Your voice is inducing synaesthesia or something! It sounds like everything you're saying is rainbow coloured!" Icky shouted.
"ah yes. rainbow theme is for pride month yes? dado sees other businesses putting up rainbow logos to show they are good allies and make money. hamster think this goes 2 far. political corrective surgery run amuck. hamster say make america grate cheese again but dado think this not go far enough. dado make everything rainbow theme 2 show that dado is best ally. or best lgtv barbecue person. dado not care so long as dado make money. dado is all things 2 all people yes."
Lolly opened her mouth to speak, but Icky gently silenced her with a finger to her lips.
"As much as I'd love to get into a shouting match about corporate appropriation of Queer culture with you and your right-wing hamster, we have a more pressing issue to discuss," Icky said into the receiver. "Namely, you're selling Herman Fuller merchandise as your own and this phone call is an official Cease and Desist."
There was an awkward silence, followed by a nervous clearing of the throat.
"with who is dado speaking yes? u no sound like a mister herbicide fulcrum."
"This is Icky, Ringmaster and co-owner of Herman Fuller's Circus of the Disquieting," she replied. "The Man With The Upside-Down Face is here as well. You've heard of The Man With The Upside-Down Face at Herman Fuller's Circus of the Disquieting, haven't you dado?"
There was a pregnant pause as the others waited to see if the infohazardous phrase would give Manny access to the twisted mind of dado.
"no, sorry. dado knows nothing of the upside-down. dado no have netflix. dado watch prime video about high man in castles yes. 4.5 stars."
Manny shook his head disappointedly and mouthed 'didn't take'. Icky let out a frustrated groan but nodded understandingly.
"Listen dado, we saw your video advertising your 'herbie fucker' circus, and you're selling our merchandise rebranded as your own on your website. We never gave you permission to do that. Knock it off, or we'll make you knock it off," she said firmly. "Do you got that?"
"what crazy clown lady talking about? clown lady and dado agree to collaboration, yes? dado and hummin ferver have verbal contract. dado promise to make generic clown impulse impress pants and you let dado sell hermando fallview products, yes?"
"dado, the deal was that you could purchase our merchandise for resale at your own locations at a discount, not that you could rebrand it as your own," Manny explained.
"And that Clown Impulse Suppressant you sold us was crap!" Lolly shouted, leaning in towards the phone. "Eugene tried some and it made him shapeshift into a clownfish! He nearly drowned! And zebras aren't eldritch abominations you lunatic!"
"u say u want pills that make clowns no scary, yes? clownfish no scary. what herfull fluffer mad about? also the zedbras are pure lovecraft. they look like painted horses and yet there is no paint, yes? should not be possible. u trust dado."
"dado, you failed to live up to your end of the bargain by giving us defective medicine, and you violated the terms of our contract by putting your name on our merchandise, therefore the entire agreement is null and void!" Manny said adamantly. "Change the name of your circus to something less insulting to us and dispose of all your knockoff merchandise immediately, or things will get very, very unpleasant for you."
"Yeah, like your sorry ass dreamform being abducted by the King of Nightmares because I'm totally friends with his niece!" Lolly screamed.
dado scoffed insolently at the petulant threat.
"dado does not fear the knight mayor king. dado does not fear IRS dark or circus circus las vegas. dado is fine capitalist and fear only the im birch tree ment of dado's good name. dado admits no wrong! dado will defend himself on tennis court where love means nothing! u will rue day that u did not trust dado!"
The call ended with a loud crunching sound, indicative of the phone on the other end being physically destroyed.
"Well that was unproductive," Icky said, flopping back in her chair. "Gary, were you able to trace the call?"
"Ah… I was, actually," he replied somberly. "But boss, something about this guy really seems messed up. Are you sure you want to get into it with him? He could be dangerous."
Icky considered this for a moment, then turned to Manny.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"We tried to be reasonable, and we can't let him just get away with something like this," Manny replied. "I say you, me and Noodles pay him a visit. Just to intimidate him. We don't get any more violent then we have to. We show him what we're capable of, he'll back down."
"I'm coming too!" Lolly insisted. "Nobody turns one of my friends into a clownfish and gets away with it!"
"Agreed," Icky growled, her violet eyes beginning to glow in fury. "Dial up the Kaleidoscope, Manny. dado's just earned himself a private show."

The large and frightening Clown named Noodles was the first through the glowing white Way, in case of any immediate threat. When he gave the all clear, he was followed by Manny, who held an antique baseball bat, then Icky with her wand in one hand and her deck of trick cards in the other, and finally Lolly and her wooden mallet.
None of them were prepared for what they saw.
They were inside a dome made out of cardboard tubes and Saran wrap, on the surface of the Moon.
Within it there was a rainbow polythene circus tent that had yet to be set up, what looked like the Blue Origin Blue Moon lunar lander, except that 'blue moon by dado' was written in all lowercase with a sharpie, and a large observation telescope at the opposite side. Outside, the barren regolith landscape stretched on for as far as they could see, and above them shone a pale half-earth.
"Holy cinnamon sweets. We're on the Moon!" Lolly squeed, momentarily forgetting why they were there and jumping in the low gravity. "Oh my god! Icky, we're the first women on the Moon! Oh! We're the first lesbians on the Moon! How awesome is that?"
"Sorry to burst your bubble kid, but the Essie P maintains a staffed site in the Mare Imbrium, plus there's an old one near the south pole," Manny corrected her. "There's definitely been women here before, and more likely than not some were gay. Plus I've heard about an all-female terrorist cell of anomalous anarcho-commies based on the Moon, and - no offense - if none of them are lesbians I'll eat my hat."
"Well that stinks," Lolly pouted. "Well, we're the first Clowns on the Moon, right?"
Noodles replied with a short, irritated growl.
"He's right. We did send him through first," Icky smirked.
"Son of a Fun-Lover," she muttered, kicking a moon rock nearly a hundred feet with minimal effort. It came to a stop by a large chair in front of the telescope. The chair slowly turned around, revealing a man in a rainbow and checkered pattern clown costume and matching top hat, worn so low it obscured the upper portion of his face.
In his lap was a guinea pig, which he stroked like a Bond villain petting a cat.
"hello mr. bezos. u are sooner than expected yes. luckily dado is prepared for - hey wait, u no jeff bezos! u crazy circus people! how u learn about dado's secret luney moonbase and circus extravaganza-palooza?"
"From your commercial," Manny said in a deadpan voice.
"curses! dado's plan for epic vengeance has been ruined by dado's even more epic business sauviness! oh well. since u here, u want to buy tickets for moon show? dado offer group discount."
"No dado," Manny shook his head. "We're from the Circus of the Disquieting. We spoke on the phone a few moments ago. Remember?"
dado spared a glance at the smartphone on the ground, crushed almost beyond recognition.
"ah yes. dado remember u and ur horrible horrible lies. lies that make hamster cry. u jealous of dado and his amazing lunar mooner circus-palooza!"
"No, we're not. We're here because your shitty drugs almost killed one of our friends and because you're ripping off our brand," Icky said as she shuffled her deck of cards, their edges glowing an incandescent red. "You need to know that there are consequences for pulling that kind of shit."
"And since you know that Clowns are our own race, your costume is super racist!" Lolly screamed lividly.
"u no like dado ringmaster costume? okay, just for u, dado take costume off, yes?"
Using both hands, dado slowly lifted up his top hat, revealing his entire face.
"Jesus Christ!" Icky yelled, dropping her cards and stumbling backwards. Lolly had also dropped her weapon in shock, and Noodles howled in horror.
"Normally I'm the one getting asked this, but what the hell is wrong with your face?" Manny managed to ask through near petrifying terror.
"uppercase key broken, of course. much apologies. now, Veronica , u were saying that dado must learn consequences, yes?"
Icky swallowed nervously, equally terrified by dado somehow knowing her real name as she was at the brief yet clearly calculated drop of his facade.
"Lolly, baby, go back home through the Way. We'll handle this," she whispered.
"I would literally let myself be turned into a Sarkic Thanksgiving Centerpiece before abandoning you to this jerk!" she screamed back, picking up her mallet and standing by Icky's side with a dauntless loyalty.
"Lolly, please," Icky pleaded. Manny stepped up to her on the other side, the baseball bat at the ready.
"We came here together, we'll leave together," he said resolutely.
"Manny, can you even see Inside him?" she asked.
"I can't," he admitted with a shake of his head.
"there is nothing inside dado. outside of dado is all of dado."
"All right dado, listen up. I don't know what the fuck you are, but we don't take kindly to threats against our Circus!" Icky shouted as she spun her trick cards into a tornado of glowing hot laminated paper. "I'm only going to say this one more time; stop bootlegging our shit and change your show's fucking name, or I will tear this plastic moon dome and everything in it to pieces!"
"And if you make the Circus your enemy you'll make all of Clown Town and even the Serpent's Hand your enemy!" Lolly threatened. "Can you handle that, dado?"
dado glared at them with whatever he had instead of eyes for a moment, and then with a weary sigh put the hat back on his head.
"please give dado minute to consult with good friend robert mitchel about the snek clowns yes."
dado lifted the guinea pig up to his ear, seemingly nodding at his sage advise.
"ok, hamster says that war with snek clowns would be bad for dado business. dado only needed circus to fund luna-moona-palooza anyway, so dado no need no more. dado will leave herbie fucker in bethesda as pay back for fallout 76."
Icky cautiously withdrew her cards back to her, but still held them tightly.
"Seriously?" she asked with a sceptical frown.
dado nodded sadly.
"yes. dado should have listen to hello darkness my old friend. she tell dado, 'liquid lunch dado empire and focus on the pills yes,' and dado say yes, but then jeff bezos announce the blue moon and trillion man star empire, and dado must remain competitive, yes? the stars must belong to dado alone!"
"Okay, why are you so obsessed with Jeff Bezos?" Lolly asked, her face twisted in bewilderment.
"dado was once great admirer of bezos. dado was inspired by bezos' skill with the amazon prime yes. dado want to be just like bezos, so dado open up many dado business like dado go, and bezos was so jelly he use the corporate sabotage on dado. bezos has betrayed dado, so bezos must pay with amazon prime."
dado rose from his seat and walked over to the blue moon lander, nostalgically caressing it with one hand while holding his guinea pig in the other.
"dado -" he paused to clear his throat. "dado drop pride theme. dado not proud today. dado feel only shame. dado let mad pursuit of vengeance make dado a bad business partner and almost start snek clown war. vengeance has corrupted dado, yes. dado must get back to dado's roots, making banana pills for mob hits and old horny pills for the preverts."
"… Wait, what?"
"thank u herman fuller people. u show dado what really matter in life. the drugs. dado forgive jeff bezos and will let amazon prime takeover universe. dado go back to breaking bad now, bye bye."
dado threw open the lunar lander's door and sealed himself and the guinea pig inside. Then, without any sort of preflight checks at all, the blue moon blasted off from the lunar surface and flew through a Saran wrap aperture in the dome that parted for his passing, then closed again as he soared off into the black sky.
"Okay; even for us, that was ridiculous," Manny said as he and the others watched the blue moon fade from sight.
"How much of that do you think was just an act, and how much of it was real?" Lolly asked.
"No idea. Hopefully, he at least keeps his word about our merchandise," Manny replied. "Otherwise, we're going to have to come back with a bigger hammer."
"Nothing more we can do here now anyway. Let's go home," Icky suggested. "I've had enough of lunar lunatics for one day."
They turned back to the Way, only to find it blocked by a man in a spacesuit and jetpack.
"Halt right there Moon Miscreants!" he ordered, his hand raised. "I am Moon Champion, Champion of the Moon, defender of space justice and destroyer of evil. You have deceived the Moon Kingdom and its people by proclaiming to be the multiverse renowned Herman Fuller's Circus of the Disquieting, when in fact you are common drug fiends and rodent smugglers, felonies under the laws of the Moon King!"
"Son of a bitch, that's why he left in such a hurry," Icky muttered.
"No, that was dado! The racist pinkwashing jerk who just blasted off in the lunar lander! He's the one you want!" Lolly insisted, pointing at the trail of smoke. "We actually are from the Circus! We came here to shut him down! See, look at his face! It's upside-down!"
Moon Champion tilted his helmet towards Manny to get a better view of him.
"That is indeed disquieting," he proclaimed. "You must then return with me to the court of the Moon King, where you can submit your act to the Lunar Bureau of Propaganda for censure and discuss how many moon pups would be fair compensation. But first, I must not allow the vile inter-dimensional criminal known as dado to escape my grasp again! Moon Champion away!"
Moon Champion blasted off into the sky, punching a hole through the dome and sending the Circus folk scurrying for the Way before all the air dissipated.
dado, meanwhile, sat comfortably in his lunar lander, feeding lettuce to robert mitchell and discussing plans for a blood rejuvenation clinic and tattoo parlour, when he spotted the glint of Moon Champion's visor out the window; his heroic form barrelling towards him at hypersonic speed, their collision imminent and inevitable.
"…dado should have stayed on earth and taken bezos to small claims court of afternoon tv. yes."

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