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PACKAGE DXC-180294-217
Authors: CrankyMonkey2 and TheMightyMcB
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BY ORDER OF THE OVERSEER COUNCIL
The following file is Level 4/217 classified. Unauthorized access is forbidden.

217

[PLEASE INPUT LEVEL 4/217 CREDENTIALS]

[ACCESSING CONTENT, PLEASE STAND BY]

After reports of 37 unsolved missing persons cases in the city of Beloretsk, Russia within the last year, Foundation agents were dispatched to investigate for the presence of a possible anomaly. The agents found that all of the missing persons had been employees at Beloretsk Iron and Steel Works prior to their disappearance. Further investigation revealed that the foreman of the plant, Feliks Ermolai, had confiscated the personal effects of one of the missing persons, Iosef Vasilyev. Given the unusual circumstances, the agents called for MTF support for the recovery of these materials and further investigation into the disappearances.

MISSION REPORT

Summary
MTF Gamma-5 ("Red Herrings") was tasked with obtaining package DXV-180294-217 from Beloretsk Iron and Steel Works. Gamma-5 were to remain undetected at all times, as to not alert law enforcement. Gamma-5 were not briefed on the contents of the package.

Results
Package was successfully secured. No authority figures were alerted, and DXV-180294-217 is now in Foundation custody.

Ongoing Containment
Package DXV-180294 is to remain in a safe deposit box at Site-139. Access requires Level 4 clearance.

Mission Status
SUCCESS

Contents of PACKAGE DXV-180294-217

17 June 2034

A bit quieter than usual, today. Saw Mom outside folding the linens, and Dad was fixing the roof. Andrei got back from work, fatigued as always, and he collapsed on my bed. Really wish he would have just slept on the floor, but he's a lot bigger than me and I didn't want to ask him to move. When he woke up, he asked me to write a letter for him. I said yes, and we wrote a letter to Masha. Not sure why he still cares about her. She doesn't care about us. She was lucky, got out of here pretty easily. I hope she's enjoying her life outside of this hellhole. Been years since we've seen her.
Dinner was the same as usual — moldy bread, bland soup, and a whole bunch of yelling from Dedushka. Sometimes, I wish I could just end his miserable ass life myself.

18 June 2034

I managed to steal a loaf of fresh bread from the bakery this morning. Barely made it out without the owner seeing me, though. When I got home, Dad was sleeping in his chair, covered in ash, as usual, and Mom was fixing lunch. I had just settled in when I heard a knock on the door. A man in a top hat, wearing white gloves and a black suit, was on the other side. He said that he was the foreman at the mill where Andrei worked, then removed his giant hat. He flatly told us that Andrei had fallen into one of the machines, and lost eight of his fingers, causing the loss of a whole day's worth of production. I comforted Mom, and told her that everything will be fine. Dad started shouting at the man to get his arse out of here. Andrei was the only one who could work, he got us our money, our food, everything. Now, we have nothing, and I'm not sure what will happen next.

19 June 2034

We went to see Andrei today at the infirmary. Christ almighty, his hands are mangled. His right hand only had a thumb, and his left hand only had a ring finger. His bulging forearm was capped off with what I guess was his palm, but it was so torn from the accident that he couldn't feel it. Mom gave him a hug, Dad patted him on the back, and I just stared off. I'd never seen him this broken before. He didn't say a single word during the whole visit. He just cried quietly to himself. After we got home, I asked Dad if Andrei will ever work again, as if I didn't already know the answer. He just shook his head. I sniffled, gave Dad a hug, ate dinner, and headed to bed.
Starting tomorrow, I'm gonna get a job. I don't care what it is, I just need a job. I need to take care of my family.

20 June 2034

Not much happened today. I ran along the streets, trying to find a job. I first went to the bakery, hoping the man in charge wouldn't recognize my face. When I asked for a job, he told me I was a prick, and to get my arse out of his shop. Fat bastard, probably eats all his leftovers anyways. I went to a shoe shop next. The owner was old and grey, surprised he was still up and moving. I asked for a job and he said he didn't need the help. Figured there was no point in arguing with a stubborn old man, so I just left and headed to a textile factory. I was almost sold on the job, but then I asked about the pay and found out that it was next to nothing. No way was I keeping a roof over our heads on those starvation wages. I told them to shove it and headed home. Tomorrow, I'll keep looking.

21 June 2034

After walking the streets for a while, I stumbled upon a steel mill. Beloretsk Iron and Steel Works was massive, easily one of the biggest buildings in the city. I went in asking for a job, and the foreman brought me into his office. He said they had a few openings, but weren't desperate for workers at the moment. He started to push me out, until I told him that I knew how to write. He smiled, somewhat surprised I assume, and offered me a job. It's going to be hard work, but I've got no choice if I want a roof over my head and food on my table. He told me I start tomorrow at 6.

22 June 2034

When I showed up for my first day, the foreman gave me a tour. Everywhere I looked, all I could see were the pale faces of tired men. Not a single one had a smile. The foreman showed me what I had to do. I was in charge of making sure that the pot of molten iron was oiled and ready for use. Not too much responsibility for a kid my age, but the heat didn't do me any favors. I powered through ten hours of sweating my ass off, and it felt like I was gonna faint, but I gritted my teeth and got it done anyways. For the family, I kept telling myself, for Andrei. We didn't always get along, but he was my bother and I loved him. Before I left the mill, I was told my wages for the day would be 5000 rubles, twice what Andrei was paid. When I told Mom and Dad, they cheered and hugged me all over. Dinner tasted great that night, and my bed was even more comfortable than usual.

3 July 2034

Been a while since I've written anything. Not much has changed, Mom and Dad are still doing well, Andrei is still at the infirmary, and I still have a job. My eyes feel heavy, and I'm starting to wheeze. Probably from all the smoke and fumes from the mill. At least I'm getting paid though, right?

5 July 2034

I bought the paper today. I had the money, so might as well. The front page was talking about how expensive that new machinery has become nowadays, and many steel mills have been closing their doors after they couldn't afford to upgrade. Beloretsk is still open, though, and growing at that, even though it looks like we haven't updated our equipment in decades. But you know, as long as the mill is running, I still get paid, so it honestly doesn't make a difference to me.

6 July 2034

Dedushka couldn't get out of bed this morning. Can't even move a muscle, the poor bastard. He just lays there and shits his bed all day. I have to clean up after him, or else the whole house will smell like death. All in a day's work, I suppose.

7 July 2034

Met a nice guy at the mill today. His name's Saveli, and he works with me at the iron pot. We talked about how shitty our lives were, and how we only do this for the money. He asked me what I like to do in my free time. I told him I liked to write, and he was surprised that I even knew how. He said he never knew how to read or write, and all he knew was how to fix machinery. We talked all day long about our families, our favorite foods, all kinds of stuff. Its nice to have a friend in here to bust up the monotony of greasing the same four pots all day. Not too bad, all things considered.

10 July 2034

Noticed something today. Lots of workers have been disappearing recently. Foreman doesn't care, he just hires replacements. I asked Saveli about it at lunch break, and he said that he's noticed it too. He says that at least three people disappear a week, and he doesn't know what happens to them. We both shrugged it off and continued working. Talked some more about our lives, and I offered to help Saveli learn how to read. Figure we start with the simple stuff, like the labels on our machinery and the signs posted around the plant, and maybe work up to longer stuff like manuals for the equipment or something. We'd just spend a few minutes every day on our lunch break.
When I came home, Mom and Dad were furious. They said that Andrei had recovered from his injuries, and he took off to find Masha. He didn't even bother to clean up after himself. He left me to take care of the whole family by myself. What a brother he was. Now it's all up to me. Someone's gotta be the man around here.

19 July 2034

I couldn't even eat today, I just headed straight to work. The day started off as usual. Monotonous greasing and pointing out things for Saveli to read when the mechanical whine died down in between loads. He's actually gotten quite good, and he can even read warning labels on some of the machinery now. He's also shown me how to maintain and fix the cranes that we use to hoist up the pots. He's a pretty handy guy and he knows more than he lets on at first for sure. After our shift was over, I went to walk out with Saveli, but the foreman called him away for a meeting. The foreman brought Saveli into a back room, and I just went home, went to bed, and tried to sleep. Wonder what the foreman wanted with Saveli? I hope he's not in trouble or something.

20 July 2034

The factory replaced one of the machines today. It was one of the giant rolling presses that flatten the steel sheets after they cool off. Our old one was beginning to show its age — didn't quite straighten out the sheets like it used to. Something feels off about this new one though. I'm not sure what it is, but the rollers don't look very new and its gears look… odd. Like they're a bit too old-fashioned to be a brand new piece of machinery. The strangest bit, though, is that the whole upper assembly is completely boxed in. There's only one small access panel for the mechanics up top, but that's it. Can't see most of the guts. I've not seen one blocked up like that, and to be honest, it doesn't make much sense to me, but what do I know? I'm just the guy who sprays some oil into a pot.
Aside from that, not much happened today. I didn't see Saveli. I'm gonna wait another day, and if he's still not here, I'm gonna go look for him.

21 July 2034

Saveli missed another day of work. Today, the foreman replaced him with some asshole named Igor. All that meathead wanted to talk about was his muscles, women, and vodka. I asked the foreman if Saveli was okay, and he just smiled at me and asked, "Who?" He knows something, and he's not gonna give it up to me. Tomorrow night, I'm gonna find Saveli. He has to be in that room. I just hope he's okay.

22 July 2034

Today was… insane… indescribable…
You know what? I'm just gonna start at the beginning. I got to work this morning, and it was business as usual, a typical laid-back Friday. When we got off work, I found a place to hide near the boilers, and waited for the sun to set. The lights went out, and I went to the back room that I last saw my friend disappear into. I made my way inside and saw a large flight of stairs. It was dark, so I grabbed a lantern to keep me warm. After a few minutes of walking, I finally made it to the bottom of the stairs. It was quiet, you could even hear the scratching of rats in the walls.
As I kept going, though, I began to hear a faint ticking noise. I followed the noise into the darkness, and saw a cage. I got a bit closer, but still kept my distance. When I looked into the cage, I saw a boy who looked kind of like Saveli. He was curled up in a ball on the ground, so I was unsure. I whispered his name, and he shot up immediately. He told me to not look at him. I told him that everything was fine, and the foreman was nowhere to be seen. He turned around slowly to face me, and… oh Christ. Half of his face was completely metallic. He had gears popping out of his head, his eyes were replaced with empty sockets of metal, his body ticking and grinding like a clock. It was like he was turning into a machine. Saveli got up in the cage and asked for me to help him. He grabbed my hand for a second, but I pushed him back. I fell backwards, completely frozen by shock and horror. Hundreds of discordant screams filled the room, and I turned my head to see hundreds of similar cages. All of the workers who disappeared, they were all here. All of them had metal sticking out of their skin, like goddamn machines. I raced back up the stairs, skipping steps as I ran. I could barely make it to the door. I raced home, gave my Mom a hug, and ran to my bed. They couldn't be real, they couldn't be. Saveli… his face… I'm gonna try to sleep and think about it tomorrow. Christ, I can still hear them when I close my eyes. A cacophany of clockwork ticking.

23 July 2034

I couldn't stop picturing Saveli's face at work today. How does someone end up like that? There were so many of them in those cages. It makes no sense! What use does a steel mill have with a bunch of deformed employees? I'm going back down there tomorrow night. There has to be something that I'm missing. What else are they hiding? What are they going to do to Saveli?

24 July 2034

I went back to the cellar tonight, this time without a lantern. I didn't want to be spotted down there. I waited a few minutes in the corner of the room, and then saw a door open in the cellar. Three men, wearing masks, gloves, and labcoats came out of the room, and went to a cage. One of the men held a lantern, while the other two opened the cage, and took out the man from inside. The poor guy was mostly made out of metal, you could hardly tell that he was human. The three men then brought that sorry sack of gears into the room from which they came. I snuck around the cages, careful not to be seen, and made my way to the door. I peeked through the door and was horrified by what I saw. The three men were forcing the man onto some kind of wall, a steel wall, with other mechanical men attached. Some lights turned on, and I was able to see the bigger picture. The three masked men were building their own equipment. One of the masked men turned on the machine, and all of the gears screamed in agony. The machine began to produce metal ingots from liquid steel, and kept doing so for a while. The screams of the gear-men filled the room, and I could barely hear myself think. I had to get out of there. I made my way out of the room, back up the slippery stairway, through the door, out of the mill, and back to my bed. I'm going mad, aren't I? Maybe this is all just in my head, a dream. Yes, a dream. I need to get back to sleep. My mind needs rest. If only I could get that damn ticking noise out of my head.

28 July 2034

There was an accident today. One of the giant crucibles used to transport the molten slag from the smelter to the refinery became dislodged and fell right on top of one of the linemen. Crushed him like a cockroach. God, how he screamed. I can still hear them…
The foreman tossed me a shovel and had me scrape him off of the floor for the rest of the day. He screamed the whole time. It took two hours to scrape every last bit of him off the factory floor. I swear I even found a few small cogs and rivets among his guts, but who really knows. Stuff like that is all over the floor, after all.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?

30 July 2034

That ticking noise…I can't stop hearing it. I can't tell if I've gone mad, but it feels like my muscles are moving on their own under my skin. Work was a lot more rigorous today, and I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep this up. My stomach is in so much pain, like something is eating me on the inside. Hopefully it goes away soon. I can't afford to miss work.

06 August 2034

The mill replaced another machine today. I took a look at it and almost vomited. It was the same one I had seen in the basement! I had to stay calm. When I got back to work, I had the feeling like I was being watched. Those cursed gears were staring into my eyes. Those poor workers… I swore I could hear them ticking underneath the mechanical whine of the plant when I strained to hear. What am I supposed to do? I need to clear my head. Go to bed, sleep, and get this damn ticking noise out of my head!

13 August 2034

Another new machine! God only knows how many workers have gone missing at this point. I kept hearing noises today, like faint gasps for air and groans of agony. The foreman gave us a talk this morning, and said that we're doing well. Soon, we're gonna spread our factory to all of Europe. They have a contract with the Germans, and we're gonna be rich. Christ. How many factory workers… never mind. I need sleep. The pain in my stomach has gotten much worse, and I just need rest.

26 August 2034

My chest… this morning I looked down at my stomach in my room, and a little piece of metal was sticking out of it! The ticking's getting louder, and I don't know how to stop it. I really have gone mad, haven't I? Mom and Dad are looking at me like I'm mental. I just have to rest… I need sleep. It'll be better once I'm well rested.

29 August 2034

When I woke up today, I felt like I just swallowed shards of glass. It feels like someone is peeling the muscle from the bone in my arm with a dull knife. Slowly ripping, tearing, creeping further and further down my arm ever so slowly. I can barely write. My arm is stiff and my fingers don't move as well as they used to. What the hell is happening to me?

14 September 2034

It's not stopping. There's metal coming out of my leg, and my stomach pains are worse. This isn't a dream, is it? I'm more machine than man at this point. Either way, this may be my last entry. I've given my last hug to Mom and Dad, said one last goodbye to Dedushka, and set off for the plant to see if they have a cure for this metal plague. If I do not return, somebody give this journal to the news. The people deserve to know what is going on here. Christ give me luck, because I'm gonna need it.

This was the last entry in PACKAGE DXV-180294-217. Recovery of the package and the subsequent dissemination of its contents amongst appropriate Foundation staff led to a total shutdown of the Beloretsk Iron and Steel Works plant under the guise of a government health and safety inspection. The company was purchased by Foundation assets and a Foundation front company assumed the operation of day to day steel production after all anomalous machinery was replaced and the refinery was thoroughly sterilized.
The population of Beloretsk has been taken into Foundation custody under the guise of a health screening for an antibiotic resistant outbreak of tuberculosis. Any individuals found to be infected by SCP-217 are to be sent to Site-139 for containment. All individuals who were removed from the confiscated anomalous machinery are similarly to be sent to Site-139 for containment.
Due to the strain on Site-139's medical team, as well as the serious risk posed to all personnel on site, all infected persons are to be smelted down and added to the current containment crucible for SCP-217 infection.

This div is included to facilitate McB's ListPages module on his author page. It is strictly out-of-universe. themightymcb-s-author-page


Beep. Beep.
"You don't have to say yes - nodding your head would work. We just want to make sure that we're clear on how you want this to play out."
Through your still-working eye, you see the student in the back, nodding his head as if to show you by way of demonstration. He sees you glancing in his direction. Returns a sad smile in yours.
You nod.
"Thank you, Mr. Lewis. The nurse'll be by in a little while to turn off the —"
Beep. Beep.
"— monitors, so we can get you some peace and quiet."
He taps a few buttons on the machine, silencing it momentarily. As he tears off his blue gown and gloves, his entourage following suit, you take a deep breath, wet your lips.
"Doctor…"
He turns in your direction. You're croaking, your throat aches from disuse.
"How long will it be?"
The attending opens his mouth to answer. As he does, the resident stands up, quietly walks out the door, pulling a pager off their waist - off to put out the next fire.
"Like I said earlier - hard to know. I'm not God. Could be hours, could be a day or two. What's important is that you're comfortable. That's what we're going for, here."
He nods, once, curtly. You nod back. They slip out the door, one by one, the social worker last. She squeezes your hand gently - hesitates - leans over the bedside and gives you a hug as best she can given you're laying down. You try to return it. She leaves.
A few minutes go by. Through your brain fog, you register that the TV is still muted. You unmute it. No matter what time of day, what time of year, this action movie is always on the hospital television - you once recited it word-for-word, just to prove you could. The cute dialysis nurse smiled at you, and brought you an extra cookie for that trick.
Beep. Beep.
No audience for you today, though.
Beep. Beep.
You glance out the window, see the sailboats on Lake Superior, gently tilting back and forth with the summer breeze. You see yourself walking along the lakeshore, just a few years younger, right hand holding Max's leash and left hand empty, fingers instinctively curled as if to interlace another's. Max runs up to another dog, sniffing around, and you gently laugh with her owner as the dogs play about in the sand for a minute, and then they see another furry friend and they're running over to say hello, and —
Beep. Beep.
The ringing of the monitors pierces through your daydreams and imaginings, and you come back to reality.
The thoughts are coming slower, now. The nurse slips in quietly, takes the pulse oximeter off your finger, disconnects all the IV lines except for the one pumping your dextrose solution. She turns that one up as far as it'll go - maxes you out, the sweet sugar burning your veins worse than chemotherapy ever had. She leaves, squeezing your shoulder as she goes.
You're tired.
You look out the window again - this time, seeing not the lake, but rather your childhood home. A tranquil cabin up in the Carolina foothills. You're catching a baseball, throwing it back to Tommy, and as he catches it and tosses it back you hear your momma yelling that supper's ready, and you and your brother are running back inside, racing to the cornbread —
Beep. Beep.
She forgot to turn off one of the monitors. You try to reach for the call light, summon the nurse back to save you, but you see the remote is on the floor. Just out of reach, and you're too weak to move.
Beep. Beep.
You're going to die to the sound of beeps.
Beep. Beep.
You look desperately around the room. Tanya's there, sitting in the corner. She smiles sadly at you and says nothing. You smile back, and hate that your last memory of her is in that sky-blue hospital gown. As you keep looking at her, she is holding James in her arms, gently stroking his bald head, avoiding the tube jammed between his lips. You wonder what color hair he would've had, who he would've ended up looking more like, what he would've —
Beep. Beep.
They're gone. You blink a few times, hoping they'll return.
Beep. Beep.
They don't.
Beep. Beep.
The beeping will never stop. You'll live for another week, but no one will come for you. No one will come to visit. No one will come to say hi, "just to check in on you" as they say. They've already signed your death certificate, the priest's already come by to deliver Last Rites, not that you wanted them, you gave up on the God that gave up on you a long time ago.
Beep. Beep.
So this is how it will play out. The anxiety begins to eat you alive. Your heart is trying to pound itself out of your chest, vision getting fuzzy, head throbbing - you wanted to be awake, you didn't want the seizures, the coma, but now you wish they had just turned off the sugar, too.
Beep. Beep.
It's all you can hear, echoing now even —
Beep. Beep.
— above your own thoughts, crowding out every last —
Beep. Beep.
— regret, every fear, every wish.
You squeeze your eye shut. Hope for the end to come soon. All you can ask for, now.
Beep. Beep.
Beep. Beep.
Beep. Beep.
Beep. Beep.
…
…
…
You gently open your eye, looking for your savior. Your vision is still fuzzy, but you can see clearly enough, see the figure at your bedside. His hand pulling away from the IV monitor, reaching slowly into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a carton. Hand reaches out in your direction, an unlit cigarette between his two fingers.
You nod.


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Roadside Cafe
Parawatch format creepypasta
~~ More Alan Stuff ~~

chung-bung 05/18/15 (Thu) 12:25:40 #24584451

Workplace.jpg

I've recently got a cashier job at a burger place called "Red and Maroon". Folks here sometimes call it a restaurant, but I'll be honest, it doesn't look like anything close to what you'd imagine when you say that word. It's more like your average cafe, the one you'll usually end up in when your only other option is to starve. The amount of clients is surprisingly high though, sometimes we barely have enough tables to seat everyone. And don't even make me start about the lines: "May I take your order?" for hours on end. It looks like everyone who eats here really enjoys our cuisine, even though the menu is fairly simple and it's pretty much all meat.
So, a couple of days ago I've come to realize that I've never once seen how the food was prepared. Mainly due to the fact that we and the kitchen staff don't have to communicate directly. Basically, behind our cashier frontline, there is a metal slide with rollers at the end. When people at the back receive orders, they cook the meals and send them to you using this slide.
Speaking about people at the back, I don't think I've ever met anyone from the kitchen staff, and other employees that I work and (sometimes) talk with didn't either. At least that's what they told me. I've seen a door leading to that place, but there's always a guard standing next to it. I've been told that he's there to prevent "trespassing".
Recently, I stayed longer than usual to help one dude with cleaning and suddenly strange sounds started coming out of that door. It was pretty loud and sounded like heavy machinery. I'd expect to hear something like this on a factory, not in a small cafe. I think that time I decided to ask the guard what was going on, he said that "it's normal" and nothing else. A couple of minutes later, I smelled something weird. It was similar to beef, but not the typical roasted one. More like when it's left for too long and gets all moldy. I thought that maybe someone left their food on the table and we overlooked it, but I couldn't find any.
Talked to the manager about the kitchen once. He said that after our working day is over, people who work there still need to clean their working place and make preparations for tomorrow, so they leave even later than we do and don't have time for chit-chat. I wanted to get more answers, but he just said that he doesn't have time either and I should get to work instead of asking dumb questions. Conflict with the manager wasn't what I was looking for and I already had a bad reputation for being late a few times, so I had to lay off.
I've heard the sounds of machinery several times since then. It looks like they only start when most employees and all customers have already left the place — as if so no one would suspect anything. I've tried to listen from outside of the building too, the sounds definitely come from where the kitchen should be located. Also, sometimes I leave my workplace later than others, and once I even waited outside for quite some time, but I didn't see anyone from the kitchen exiting.
That's all I've got so far. My gut tells me there's going to be more though, so I'll keep ya posted.

narcissist 05/18/15 (Thu) 9:49:43 #14567876

Dunno man, it seems like you're overreacting a little. All this "freaky" stuff you told us about the kitchen could mean that it has poor sanitation and owners just don't want anyone to randomly wander in and see cockroaches casually walking on the walls.
Besides, is it really impossible to see what's going on there? Can't you try and look through the far end of the roller slide? And aren't there any windows? Dunno about the machinery, but I generally don't know much about fast-food equipment. Don't you think it could've been some "normal" device, as the guard told you?

crilasxowe 05/18/15 (Thu) 11:11:39 #16789812

Of course, you can look for windows or ask more people… Or you can pull off a better move and sneak into that place past the guard to see everything yourself. Be careful tho, who knows what they're hiding? >:)
> chung-bung: Also, it looks like everyone who eats here really enjoys our cuisine
It seems like the food is the weirdest thing there, did you eat anything out of the menu yourself? How did it taste? :P

chung-bung 05/20/15 (Sat) 08:12:27 #32675891

Hello again. Sorry for not answering sooner. The day was pretty long, we had even more orders than usual. After coming back home, I just took a shower and fell asleep on the couch till morning, couldn't get around to updating the thread.
> crilasxowe: did you taste anything out of the menu yourself?
No, I'm taking lunches from home, even though the manager really doesn't want me to. I've already told you about my suspicions, I'm trying not to eat too much of their food. I still constantly hear clients complimenting it though.
On the subject of clients, I've started to notice why our place has full houses so often. There aren't that many new faces, but almost everyone whom I've seen here once will come back later. I think several people even eat here on a daily basis. Their health probably won't benefit from this.
> narcissist: All this "freaky" stuff you told us about the kitchen could mean that it has poor sanitation
Actually, it could be an explanation, but I think in this case they're overdoing it. Protecting the kitchen from visitors' eyes is fine, I guess, but why would they go as far as to hire a guard and not let anyone, even their own employees, in there?
> narcissist: Besides, is it really impossible to see what's going on there?
Yeah, unfortunately. There are no windows leading to the kitchen at all, I've checked from the outside. The slide is structured in such a way that it doesn't let you see shit either. Recently, I've tried to listen more closely while picking up burgers, so it would like I'm just doing my job. The first thing I heard was the grill. A moment later, sounds of something being cut, several distant hits and then someone talking. Couldn't make out anything tho, it was too noisy in the dining area.
I've probably been near the slide for too long, the manager came running to me and started screaming about me being too slow, performing my duties poorly etc. The man was extremely mad at me with no apparent reason. He also told me that if I'll keep slacking off, they'll find someone more reliable.

chung-bung 05/22/15 (Mon) 03:12:15 #18976563

So, today I decided to find out how those burgers everyone likes so much taste. Well, had to, because I forgot to pack my lunch and felt like I was starving.
When I finally got some time off, I went to the break room with my well-earned burger. It smelled fine and tasted surprisingly good, easily filled my stomach. But I still have doubts regarding the meat. They say it's beef but it doesn't look like it. It's a lot redder and easier to chew, although maybe it's due to how they cook it. I had terrible insomnia the night before, so after finishing my burger I just nodded off right there at the table and had one of the weirdest daydreams I've ever seen.
It began with me feeling that the floor is vibrating like during earthquakes. A moment later, I heard several loud, echoing hits. It took me a moment to realize that they were coming from below. Then, it felt like I could see the whole dining area. I saw many people, all of them were eating large amounts of meat. They chewed it like savages and picked up more and more with their bare hands. Some nearly bit their fingers off trying to shove as much food into their mouths as possible. And below the place, there was something else. Or someone. I couldn't see it but somehow could feel its presence. I listened closely and heard loud whimpering coming from underground. Those hits I wrote about earlier… It was that thing, no doubt about it. It was trapped there, below the burger place. And it was in agony.
When I woke up, the break was over and I had to get back to work. Still couldn't get this weird dream out of my memory. I've asked other employees, no one saw anything similar. That's what you get when you theorize about the kitchen too much.
Still, I feel uneasy every time I stand near that slide. There's this constant urge to try and see what's going on behind that door. I mean, even if I trespass and they aren't hiding anything too bad there, the worst thing they can do is to kick me out. Honestly, I don't think I even want to continue working in this weird place. So, wish me luck guys, I'll tell you everything if I'll be able to write here after this.

crilasxowe 05/22/15 (Mon) 10:25:27 #19875761

Hell yeah dude. Don't forget your phone and take some pictures if you'll come across something interesting. :p

randomdudefromthedark 05/25/15 (Thu) 07:11:19 #25678523

I'm not sure about this place being paranormal, but this whole thing still looks very suspicious.
Yesterday I've decided to look up the diner online. I couldn't find any information on who owns Red and Maroon or when exactly it opened but I've discovered that they have a website. It's not much, although there's a section dedicated to people who seek employment. It has all that standard stuff about high salaries, easy responsibilities and friendly colleagues, but for some reason, the entire section is aimed at recruiting either cashiers or janitors. I couldn't find any job offers for kitchen staff or guards (i. e. someone who'll have access to the back).
Adding this information to what you've described and those burgers' side effects — I find it believable that you've come across a very elaborate scam. I don't know what exactly they're adding to the meat, but I'd suggest drawing the government's attention to this place.

narcissist 05/27/15 (Sat) 09:42:59 #17656899

randomdudefromthedark: Honestly, I really don't think this thread will come to life again. Chung hasn't posted for a while and I think if he truly saw something paranormal, he would've told us already. Either something really happened to him, or he was just some kind of troll trying to get forum's attention.

chung-bung 05/28/15 (Sun) 01:02:07 #39451786

I'm back. Sorry for the lack of updates. I was… Kinda busy during last few days.
I've decided to follow through with my plan and was able to end up inside the building after hours.
So, I knew from experience that the guards tend to not look in every single corner before closing the place, so I just had to make it seem like I'm leaving and then sneak into one of the bathroom stalls. After two or so hours, I finally heard the front door getting locked. Unfortunately, my phone died while I was waiting, so I couldn't make any pics. I guess you'll have to take my word for it. After a couple more minutes, I exited the stall and headed to the kitchen. Surprisingly, it wasn't locked. The lights were on but there was no one there.
The place actually looked like a kitchen to an extent. Grills, fridges, etc, but the first thing I've noticed was blood. Unnatural amounts of it all over the place. I think the color was too bright but honestly, I'm not sure. Then this smell… Just like during that evening shift, but this time it was much worse. I've been to fast-food kitchens and butcheries before and nothing there smelled like this. I kept looking and saw several handsaws lying on the tables. There was also a big chunk of meat and the blood from it kept dripping to the bowl placed on the floor. For some reason, I decided to grab a saw and touch it. The chunk slightly moved. Probably because of the emerging blood, but I'm not sure.
Then, I saw another door. It was located behind one of the fridges and led to a descending staircase. The back area was a lot larger than it initially seemed, there were at least three floors down there. I've also seen several doors, all of which turned out to be locked, so I don't know whether they even led somewhere. The place wasn't well lit and I nearly tripped on the blood splattered on the stairs. There was a lot of it and it looked pretty fresh. When I reached the last floor, the sounds of machinery started again, and they were very close. I went down and found a place that looked like a storage room. I've noticed kitchen instruments and outer clothing lying on the nearby tables. It was clear I wasn't alone in that place.
The noises were actually coming from the elevator shaft located at the center of the room. Judging by the cables, the platform was far below and kept descending. I looked into the shaft but couldn't see a thing, it was completely dark there. A minute later, the elevator made a loud, rattling sound and stopped. I took a step closer and heard loud whimpering coming from the shaft, it echoed throughout the whole room. I could feel the agony in this voice. One moment later, whimpering turned into a high-pitched scream, accompanied by the rattling of chains. This cacophony lasted for about a minute, then the elevator started lifting.
If I recall correctly, I acted on the instinct and grabbed a meat cleaver to defend myself. But the elevator got closer, my limbs started to shake, thoughts became messy and I fled. Exited the kitchen or whatever it was, opened one of the windows in the dining area and jumped out. Can't remember how I got home after that.
I didn't go to work since. Yesterday, the manager phoned me and said that he's fed up with me and that I was fired. I was fine with it. Honestly, I'm thinking about packing my stuff and moving out. Not sure if they know where I live and I don't wanna check.
Also, not sure if that's worth mentioning, but I'm constantly thinking about what happened during that night. The meat, its smell, that reckless scream I've heard emerging from the shaft… I don't know why, but they make me so hungry. Sometimes when I eat, I imagine biting into that big red chunk I saw on the table. Last night I dreamed about opening the kitchen's door, seeing a dozen of freshly cooked burgers there and eating them without any second thoughts. I'm sure that even when I heard that desperate whimpering in the storage room, I could feel my mouth watering.
No matter how I suppress those thoughts, they always come back. I can't stop speculating on this thing underground, how delicious it might be. And my urge to taste more of it grows with each day.


Kidnapping. I've seen this before, on TV. What does the person do? Co-operate with the kidnappers? No, that never ends well for the victim. I have to fight back. I have to escape.
Okay, how?
They grabbed me on the side of the road while walking home from the lake, but we must have passed the lane to go out toward the farms. I can feel the twisting turns; we're on that winding road that goes down by the motel. And then the highway's just past that. I can't let them take me there. I have to escape.
There's nobody holding my legs right now. The next time we're coming through a corner, I'm going to make my move. I'll kick the driver in the arm, and he'll go off the road. And then…

The black van swerved, pitched, and rolled down a rocky embankment. It had barely come to rest before Frank Whelan dragged himself out through a shattered window. He staggered to his feet, already on the move as quickly as his aching body could manage. He imagined one of the men in ski masks closing in behind him, could almost feel the grip of a black gloved hand on his collar. When he finally forced himself to look back, no one was there. Near exhausted, Frank clambered back up and onto the road.

-o-

"See anything?"
"Same as five minutes ago. Nothing."
Agent Lawrence Harrison suppressed a groan. His UIU field team had been holed up in the East Lakeview Motel for three days, and their stakeout was panning out to be a colossal waste of time. The day had seen an hour long argument over the last croissant, and the lack of AC was unbearable in the rising afternoon heat. And if the tiny rural Tennessee town even had a lake, the motel certainly offered no view of it.
"Are you sure it's not a bad lead?" asked Agent Eriksen, who lay sprawled on one of the rock-hard beds.
"The informant's reliable enough," Harrison replied, even though he was beginning to have doubts. "He swears this is the shop he bought it at, and he gave enough description to confirm it was our perp running the joint."
"Why can't we just storm in there and — " came the voice of another agent, muffled by the bathroom door.
"We've gone over this: the place is full of spacetime anomalies. This guy could go through a door in front of us and come out on the other side of the building. Heck, we go in there we might not come back out. He's gotta be outside and away from the building for us to make the arrest."
"Hey boss," Jackson interrupted from the window. "I think I see something."
Harrison leapt to his feet and ran over to the window. Through the gap in the dusty curtains, he could see a scrawny red-headed teenager standing on the road, wearing a scarf over his face.
"Poor kid looks like he's been run over with a tractor." Jackson added.
"That's not our suspect. Did he come out from the shop?"
"He didn't, but we should see if he's okay. What if he needs an ambulance?"
Harrison grumbled, but finally agreed.
"Alright. Eriksen, with me - hang back and keep an eye open. Everyone else, wait here."
The two agents descended the far stairwell, in order to discretely use the exit at the side of the building. Stepping out into the bright midday sun, Eriksen propped open the door with the toe of his dress shoe while Harrison approached the teen.
"Excuse me… Hey!" Harrison shouted.

Shit. Don't shoot me.

The voice seemed to boom around inside Harrison's head, and he froze. The scarf had fallen away from the kid's face, revealing only smooth skin where his mouth should've been.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Harrison reassured, reaching into his pocket and flashing his FBI badge and ID. "Come on over here, quickly."
A minute later, back inside the motel room with the door closed, Harrison explained to the rest of his team: "This is Frank Whelan. Kid's a can man, telepathic. He's talking to me right now."
"Really?" asked Jackson.

Yes

"Whoa, trippy."
"Not now, Jackson." Harrison wanted to keep his talk with the kid on track. "You said some people tried to abduct you?"

Yeah. A bunch of dudes dressed all in black and with masks on, they got out of a van and grabbed me. But I don't know why anyone would want to kidnap me. Actually… I think they must have been after someone else. They kept saying something about a Katie E, like she's who they wanted to get.

"Hold it," Harrison held up a hand, "these men called you 'KTE'? Is that what you're saying?"
Frank nodded. Harrison sighed — the GOC was hard to deal with on a good day, but doubly so when holding something they wanted.
"Jackson, dial up HQ. Now."

-o-

Far away in Washington D.C., Theodore McKinney settled into a polished wooden chair, at a polished wooden table, across from a wooden Polish man. Behind the stiff man was a stunning view of the surrounding area, and around him were the elegantly paneled walls. The GOC, it seemed, had spared no expense in designing their conference rooms. Reminding himself that he was not there to appreciate the GOC's enormous budget, he returned his gaze to the man before him.
While McKinney did not consider himself a man that was intimidated easily — you don't become leadership of a branch in the FBI if you are — he felt a telltale prickle of nervousness in his stomach. The man across from him was dressed in a silk suit that looked as if it cost as much as his unit's annual budget, and had the confident air of someone who knew all too well the power behind them.
"Greetings. I am Theodore McKinney, Assistant Director of the Unusual Incidents Unit, FBI. Now, how shall we begin, Mr…"
"Koziak. Global Occult Coalition, Public Liaison Office." the man replied with practiced neutrality. He extended a hand and gave McKinney a hollow smile.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Koziak." McKinney responded as he shook his hand. "Nice to know we're still under Public Liaison.
"Such formalities are called for in these times. But I expect we're both aware of the situation we've come here to discuss."
"The situation, as I understand, is that a group of my UIU field agents have taken into temporary protective custody an American citizen, who was the target of an attempted abduction."
"Well, I'm not so sure I agree with that terminology." Koziak leaned forward, "We are here to deal with an anomalous threat, in accordance with our mandate. If this is how you insist on hearing it, then fine: we request you return custody of our prisoner."
"Terminology aside, I'm not sure I can agree with your terms. Bearing in mind that this citizen is innocent of any criminal convictions and also a minor, how could this extradition be considered valid?"
"The GOC does not tolerate the obstruction of its mission, Mr. McKinney."
"Why not go ahead and enlighten me on the nature of this mission, then? At no point was I notified that you would be conducting operations within our jurisdiction."
"Our mission," Koziak said coldly, "is to protect the human race from anomalous threats." He punctuated each following word with a tap of his finger on the table. "By. Any. Means. Necessary."
McKinney narrowed his eyes, but refused to break his gaze.
"And our operations… don't require notification, or permission, from anyone at the level where you reside." He placed a white card, with only a printed phone number, onto the table. "My men," sliding the card toward McKinney, "will have custody of the threat. This will happen within the next thirty minutes."
So much for any pretense of civility, thought McKinney. A long hard silence filled the room as he weighed up his options. Before this meeting he hadn't known what to expect, but in hindsight maybe the outcome should have been obvious. It was clear the GOC wouldn't be taking no for an answer, and McKinney knew all too well the results of any alternative action. Casualties in the field, political implications, maybe even worse. That left him one option.

-o-

"Sir, you can't be serious!" Agent Harrison was taking the call from HQ, speaking to McKinney himself.
"I'm afraid so, Lawrence. Take down this number, you're to contact their Strike Team and arrange to transfer custody —"
"Sir," Harrison protested, "with all due respect, an innocent citizen can't just be-"
"With all due respect," McKinney echoed bitterly, "this decision is miles above your head. Hell, it's above my head. But there will be blowback at an international level if we refuse to cooperate here. Now: you're going to tell them exactly where you are, you're going to stay put until they get there, and you are going to remand custody of your prisoner without any resistance. Clear?"
Harrison hung his head as his shoulders sank in defeat.
"Yes, sir."
"They're putting a clock on this, so make it happen quick."
Harrison heard the call close with a beep and set the phone down on the rough wooden dresser. He looked around the room at each member of his team. His eyes came to rest on Frank Whelan, who sat wrapped in a woolen blanket on Agent Eriksen's bed. Agent Jackson sat beside him, rifling through the unit's medkit for another band-aid. Frank peered up, the two of them exchanged a meaningful look.
In the dim light of the hotel room, with a scared look on his face and a tear in his eye from the sting of iodine, Frank looked nothing more than a scared boy. Harrison had never seen an anomaly look so human, and a pang of guilt stabbed through him as he thought of what was about to happen to him. There had to be another way, he thought.
"I have to make a call."

-o-

You sure about this?

"Positive. Jump."
Swinging his other leg over the windowsill, Frank took a moment to look Harrison in the eye.

Thank you.

"Don't waste time. Go on!"
Frank hung down from the ledge and dropped into the hedges beneath. Almost immediately a hand was on his shoulder, helping him up out of the bushes and guiding him toward a waiting car. "Got the skip," the man hissed into a handheld radio, "start the engine."

Who are you?

"Name's Soldati; that's Lehman behind the wheel. We're gonna take you outta here."
As they approached the car the trunk popped open.

In there?

"Just for a few miles; the gocks have eyes all over these roads. You can ride up front once we're in the clear."
Mentally cursing his luck, Frank crawled into the cramped trunk. He squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position as he listened to the two voices coming from the front of the car.
"Site-17, you said?"
"Eventually, I'm guessing. After assessment at a Research Site."
"Make a call-ahead, let em' know we're en route for our handoff."
"Sure," there was a click as a radio turned on, "Soldati, MTF Epsilon-6. Subject acquired."
And with that, Frank felt the car start to roll away.

-o-

Back in the motel room, a harsh knock at the front door announced the arrival of the GOC Strike Team. All five of the large men pushed their way into the cramped quarters, as if to establish that they owned the place.
"Alright," barked one of the GOC operatives. "Where is he? Where's our target?"
"Alright, alright," Agent Jackson said as he squeezed through the group of GOC agents, "calm down, soldier. Kid's just went to the john a minute ago — "
Without a second's hesitation one of the GOC men turned around and kicked open the door to the bathroom.
"There goes the deposit," Jackson whined. "That's taxpayer money y'know—"
"It's empty!"
Jackson peered over their shoulders into the bathroom, looked at the open window on the opposite wall. "Oh, damn…" he muttered, feigning surprise.
"He couldn't have fit through there though," Agent Eriksen piped up.
"Well," Jackson reasoned, "he was kind of a skinny kid."
"Quiet!" The GOC team leader bellowed. "You left the anomaly unsupervised?"
As Agent In Charge, Harrison was turned to for an explanation. He cast a reproachful gaze at his men, though privately admiring their acting chops. All he could offer was a helpless shrug, but this was enough to drive home the grift.
The GOC team leader gave an exasperated sigh. Turning back to his own men, "He can't have gone far. Move out!"
The GOC soldiers filed back out of the room, talking into their radios about direction of travel and establishing perimeters and, at every opportunity, cursing out the FBI.

-o-

Allowing, through negligence, for a person in protective custody to evade their security detail and flee the location.
That was the disciplinary review's assessment of what had transpired. After hearing an earful of it from McKinney, Harrison trudged back to his tiny office. He told himself he was lucky to still have the job. A couple months of probation was a small price to pay for an innocent life saved.
Among the mail waiting on his desk, one particular parcel caught his eye - Sweepstakes Contest Promotion. No return address. "Huh, bet I win the grand prize," he muttered sarcastically.
Inside, Harrison found two separate communications. One was an intel package from Agent Noah Soldati: the shop in Lakeview was just one location the perp used for sales; his main warehouse was where the goods could be seized - maybe even him too. An address in Oregon was included.
Setting the letter carefully on the corner of his desk blotter, he turned his attention to the second envelope.

To: Mr. Lawrence Harrison, c/o Unusual Incidents Unit, FBI
From: Frank Whelan, Site-17
Hello,
I've never been great at writing letters, but I couldn't find another way to reach you.
First, I wanted to let you know I made it. After you got me out of the motel, they took me to this other place. I don't quite remember what it was called, but I remember the cold walls and prodding needles. It felt like a prison - like a punishment of some sort.
I guess I've always been a prisoner, one way or another. At home, I played with my brothers, fought with them over a million stupid things, stole their video games, the normal stuff. But I've never been anywhere outside of my tiny town in Tennessee, never met anyone outside my family, and never gone to a school outside or talked to anyone that isn't related to me. I've been hidden my whole life. Now I'm stuck in this sickeningly white cell like a prisoner for the crime of being born an anomaly, and I'll be a prisoner until the day I die. And when I die, I may as well have never existed at all.
I know there's a lot of bad things in the world, but I mean it when I say being an anomaly is the worst. It's so, so lonely when you're someone that can't exist. ████. ████ ██ ██████ █ ███████ ███ ██████ ████ ███████ ████.
But you know what? I'm alive. Life's not all bad. After a couple weeks, they took me to another place called Site-17. It's not so bad here - they let me write this letter, for one. I get to go outside sometimes. My room - they keep telling me not to call it a cell — has a nice view of the sky. I'm probably better off here than anywhere else.
So I guess this whole rambling letter is just me trying to say thank you. Instead of seeing me as an anomaly, you saw me as a person. You chose to save me even though you were ordered not to. You're the reason I still have a life. And that's a lot more than the GOC could ever give me.
May we meet again,
Frank


Cowboy Hephaestus and the Fuck Patrol advanced through the desert sands, keeping low to the ground, their muzak pistols clutched tight. Turning back to his motley band of abominations and rascals, Cowboy Hephaestus put a finger to his lips.
“Grocery store shit only,” he said, tapping his muzak pistol. “Nothing fancy.”
The Fisherman, Hephaestus' second in command, nodded, the sharks, salmon and trout that made up his ever-changing body wriggling as he did so. Their mouths gasped for water that they'd never receive. Their eyes stared forward - they were like corpses already, truth be told. But they'd never reach that final stage. He raised a hammerhead arm and motioned to the Fuck Patrollers behind him, who adjusted their pistols.
Hephaestus smirked to himself. The Fisherman was eager to get Cowboy Galileo - and it was no wonder. Galileo was the ultimate bounty for something like him.
Before the Fuck Patrol was a tower of emerald and bronze, fluttering and warping in the breeze. It was something that Cowboy Galileo had stolen from another world, like every treasure he hoarded. From the looks of the structure, Cowboy Hephaestus guessed it was from a later era of Oz. You could tell by the emeralds. Bastard king of the place loved ‘em.
“You see that?” he said, adjusting his fiery cowboy hat to get a better look at the windows. “Looks like Galileo's got a delivery coming in.”
Last Lion Leroy nodded, his thick mane rearranging itself to form a pair of binoculars. He cut them out of the mass with a single swipe of his battle razor, handing them to Cowboy Hephaestus.
“Much obliged,” said Cowboy Hephaestus, accepting the binoculars.
“Don't mention it,” said LLL in Lion. Luckily, Cowboy Hephaestus was a man of the worlds and the Ways. There were very few tongues he didn't know.
Cowboy Hephaestus took a look through the binoculars. They were scratchy against his hands - LLL really needed to take better care of that mane of his. From the looks of things, the tower was fairly heavily guarded. Dollerdozers, men that had morphed themselves into the shapes of the long-lost bulldozers, rolled around the perimeter of the building, honking at each other wildly.
Two weeks (UnParisian Time) earlier…
“Cowboy Shakespeare is dead,” said Cowboy Gorgoplex, chugging his UnParisian UnWine.
Cowboy Hephaestus raised his eyebrows, sending sparks up into the air. His own drink of ashes and lit cigarettes went untouched. How could he drink right after hearing that?
“How did it happen?” said Cowboy Hephaestus quietly. He'd never met Cowboy Shakespeare…but from the stories he heard, the old man wasn't the type to die. They said he'd fought a Meteor God, took it down - that he'd eaten the last of the Sarkic Venesians at the end of Universe 2.3949229B. People who survived things like that…what could possibly kill them?
“Heart attack,” said Cowboy Gorgoplex, taking another drink of the UnWine. The two were sat at the finest UnBar in UnParis, The UnGrail and UnWish. The franchising of these bunker-cities got pretty tiresome around this point in history.
This part of the bar was reserved for Cowboys - set up by Cowboy Macedonia a while back in this timeline. Below the symbol of the Cowboys, twin pistols and swords, were their oath: “Ooo ooo ooo ooo, ooo ooo ooo.” Whatever the first Cowboy had been, that had been their language. Maybe they'd been a monkey.
“Heart attack,” repeated Cowboy Hephaestus slowly. “Heart attack?”
“Heart attack.”
“Fuck me.”
“That's what I said.”
“But really,” said Cowboy Hephaestus, holding onto the bar to steady himself. Twin trails of soot ran down from his eyes. “Fuck. I sent him a letter, you know. Just a couple of weeks ago.”
“You did? What about?”
“He was my inspiration - the reason I became a Cowboy, took my Name. You think I took the Name of some god from Bumblefuck Nowhere because I liked it? I took it because it was from the same planet as his.”
“Huh,” said Cowboy Gorgoplex. “Mine's just the Name of some frog I saw in the Library. Liked to dissect flies. Thought it was pretty freaky, so I took its Name.”
“I don't care.”
“So,” said Cowboy Gorgoplex, leaning forward. “What was the letter about?”
“The battles I'd fought, the places I'd seen…the Fuck Patrol I've gathered behind me. Even images - photographs of the horrors I've defeated.”
Cowboy Gorgoplex visibly paled. “Oh,” he said, rubbing a clockwork hand against his wire hair.
“What?”
“Well, they say before he had that heart attack, Cowboy Shakespeare saw a freaky photograph.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”

Cowboy Hephaestus snapped back to the present, looking around him wildly. Damnit, Galileo had been expecting him. He'd set up Flashback Mines to trap him in yesterdays.
“Watch your step!” he roared to the Fuck Patrol behind him. Stealth was out of the question at this point - he couldn't afford to lose any members of the Patrol. “We've got exposition!”
With the death of Cowboy Shakespeare, Cowboys like Galileo felt free to stoop as low as they wanted. Hephaestus would never let that happen, as long as he was alive. The Cowboys were everything to him, the very reason he - shit, he was letting the exposition take him!
“Cover your mouths!” shouted Hephaestus as he ran towards the Emerald Tower. The Dollerdozers rushed forward to meet him. With a swing of his arm, Hephaestus sent two balls of fire flying at them. Now, the important thing to understand about fire is that it is not fire. You can usually tell this by the bolding. Fire was conceptual, which was a lot more tricky and a lot more fun.
The fire hit the Dollerdozers, rushing back through their timeline and burning away the moments that had led them to this place, at this time. They vanished.
Hephaestus grinned as he charged through the doors of the Emerald Tower, the Fisherman following shortly after him. The rest of the Fuck Patrol stayed at the base of the tower, ready to fight whatever horrors Galileo had recruited or stolen to protect his treasures. As the doors closed, Hephaestus heard the sounds of grocery store muzak ringing out, generic tunes flying back and forth as projectiles. The battle had begun.
Within the Emerald Tower was a spiral staircase - also emerald, of fucking course - that ran upwards to the top.
“Galileo,” shouted Cowboy Hephaestus, his voice echoing up the length of the thick, rigid tower. “I'm coming for you, you son of a bitch!”
He glanced at the Fisherman, who nodded, and then he charged up the staircase, four steps at a time. He had no time for proper stair technique - he was a man on a mission. A mission…of justice.
He burst into the top room of the Emerald Tower, flame pouring out of his hat.
There he was. The bastard. Cowboy Galileo. The one who had escaped from the Earth he was born in, contained in, and became a Cowboy for all the wrong reasons.
The man with a fish's head, and a comical little top hat nestled atop it.
He was sprawled out on a throne of glass, a kaleidoscope of reclining fish men visible on its surface. It almost hurt to look at it.
“Look at you,” said Hephaestus, spitting a cinder onto the expensive skin rug. It moaned in pleasure slightly. “All the wealth and treasure you could want, and nobody here to protect you.”
Cowboy Galileo chuckled. “Nobody left to protect me? Tell me, Hephaestus, how much money do you have to spend? How much treasure to entice loyalty?”
“I don't need any of that,” said Hephaestus. “My people…My Fuck Patrol…they're the kind of people who don't care for money. Who don't care for anything except a righteous fight.”
He pointed his muzak pistol at Galileo, who didn't budge. “Any last words?”
“My man,” said Cowboy Galileo, a grin spreading across his face - well, as much was possible for a fish face. Really, his lip curved slightly, if one squinted and looked from the right angle. “You dumb motherfucker.”
Cowboy Hephaestus felt a bullet of muzak slam into his back. His pistol fell out of his hands, clattering unseen onto the floor. The sounds of a busy grocery store expanded inside his skull.
Hephaestus couldn't move. He could barely even think. The only one in the room who could have shot him, betrayed him…was the Fisherman.
“You are poor,” gloated Cowboy Galileo, walking into view, Hephaestus' muzak pistol in his hand. “He's fighting for me.”
Fish swam in schools, thought Hephaestus, and then, maybe, he died.
Ooo ooo ooo ooo, ooo ooo ooo.


Really? Six years of service, building cages for things that could destroy the world faster than I could snap my fingers, and now they're throwing me in the trash. All because of one mistake, that wasn't even my fault, mind you, but I'm the one catching all the heat because of course I am.
"You can leave your personal belongings in your office, remember, we're not firing you, we just need to give you some time to look back, reflect on your mistakes and make sure it never happens again." The words of my supervisor - not like she nor any of my superiors understood my "mistake". "However," she continued, "I do have a job you could do for me while you're out, but you may not want it." An opportunity, I'd take anything I could get.
"What is it?" I asked.
She answered, "I have to go abroad for a little while to help revise the containment of an anomalous object that's been giving us trouble, and I need someone to look over my three children while I'm gone."
Dammit.
I wanted to decline, I really did, but everyone knows the best way to get past a severe punishment is to suck up to your superiors. "Sure, no problem," I replied, with fake nonchalance.
"Great! We'll discuss specifics over the phone later, but other than that, I don't think there's anything else to say. You know your punishment, and it officially comes into effect now."
Babysitting, great. Just the relaxing activity I needed. At least it shouldn't be too hard. I've got 6 years experience in containing the greatest horrors known to man. Harmless children are nothing but an annoyance to me. A terrible, terrible, annoyance.
A day later, I've got the text with the specifics. I guess I have no excuse not to go now.
My supervisor lives pretty humbly, I would've thought she lived in something more extravagant. This looks just like an average town home.
"Hey! I'm glad you could make it."said my supervisor, waiting at the door and leaving out the part that it was obvious I would show up. "Let's get you introduced to all the kids."
"Kids! Come down and meet the babysitter!" she called. Being called a babysitter hurt my pride, but I guess I am one. The first of her children to arrive had run over here frantically and energetically, he introduced himself to me, his name was Brandon. He said he was nine.
There was also a return call of "Hold on one second!" Followed by a loud thump from the upper floor and some giggling. My supervisor rolled her eyes.
By the time Brandon had introduced himself to me, the other two children had come barreling in, obviously being the source of the loud noise from upstairs. Their behavior, from what I had seen of them, did not fill me with optimism. In their rush to get over here, they had tripped over each other's feet and fallen over. The one that got up first introduced himself to me as James, age six.
The other child didn't spring to his feet immediately like James did, he had to take a second to find his footing. Once he got up, he introduced themselves to me as Gabriel.
With all the children having introduced themselves to me, my supervisor put on her coat and got ready to head out, but not before hugging each of her children and giving them all a peck on the forehead. She gave one final word to me before she left, "You're probably going to need to get them dinner relatively soon, they're all getting hungry, and lights out by 9:00." And with that, she was gone, the door was shut, and I was all alone with three children.
Even though I had met all three children and seen a little of their personality in the process, I really didn't have a whole lot of information about them. I was going to need to put together what little information I was given before I did anything that evening. Maybe something would reveal itself to me.

Subject: Brandon
Age: Nine
Gender: M
Description: Light brown curly hair and blue eyes. Wore a green-striped shirt and gym shorts. Very scrawny, and seemed energetic and erratic.

Subject: James
Age: Six
Gender: M
Description: Straight, thick, brown hair and blue eyes. Wore a plain red shirt and jeans. Seemed average size for a six-year-old and slightly clumsy and playful.

Subject: Gabriel
Age: 5
Gender: M
Description: Light brown curly hair and brown eyes. Wore a yellow shirt with a pink video game character and gym shorts. Slightly fat for a five-year-old and slightly clumsy and playful.

Nope, nothing. I didn't know really anything about these children, nevertheless what I was going to do to keep them content. Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, after all, they're human children, they're not a mindless, destructive, anomaly. They're capable of telling me about them, surely. I'll start with Brandon.

Interviewed: Brandon
Interviewer: Me
<Begin Interview>
Me: Brandon, to get to know you better I'm going to need to ask you a few questions, alright?
Brandon: What do I get for doin' it?
Me: What? You don't get anything. I just need to get to know you better.
Brandon: Why wouldn't I get anything? That's stupid. I'm gonna go play with James.
Me: Wait, fine, I'll give you a… chocolate bar as dessert after dinner, alright?
Brandon: Ok fine, I'll listen.
Me: Well, what keeps you entertained?
Brandon: Well, I like to play basketball a lot! I'm really good at it, I can score goals like every time!
Me: Do you do any quieter activities? Like reading?
Brandon: What? No! That's boring, why would I want to read?
Gabriel: Brandon, what are you doing? James and I were going to go play tag, if you want to come.
Brandon: I have to answer the babysitter's questions, he's going to give me a candy bar if I do.
Gabriel: What? You get a candy bar? Unfair, I want a candy bar too!
Me: You'll get a candy bar if you do this, but right now you have to wait for-
James: When are we going to eat dinner? I'm hungry.
Me: You'll get dinner in a little bit, I just have-
Brandon: I'm also hungry, can we please go eat dinner?
Me: I give up. Fine, we can eat dinner.
Brandon: Do I still get my candy bar?
<End Interview>

This was getting really irritating. I didn't know anything about the children, and that interview was completely useless. I'm just as confused, left wondering as to what they like to do with themselves as I was when I walked in the door I needed to find a containment procedure that worked, a way to keep them out of my hair. The children had mentioned wanting dinner. Maybe that could be a solution. The only problem was what to get them for dinner, I didn't know what they liked to eat. In the interview, they seemed much more enthusiastic about wanting dinner than they did about telling me about themselves, so maybe if I just asked them, it would work.
I called the children down into the kitchen. I needed all of them to agree on something, or my new procedure wasn't going to work.
"What would you guys like for dinner?" I asked. Of course, no two answers were the same. Brandon wanted pasta. Gabriel didn't like pasta, but he wanted burgers. James liked neither, and wanted mac and cheese. Brandon said that mac and cheese was pasta, but James vehemently disagreed. That point evolved into an argument and I sighed, we were going to be here awhile.
I had to step in to end the argument after it started spiraling out of control. These children could never focus, it was driving me up a wall. A few more ideas were thrown around, including caviar, though it wasn't like any of the children even knew what that was. However, the word pizza was finally introduced. All of the children liked pizza, and it wasn't anything I had to make. It seemed perfect, and so the decision was made, the children would eat pizza for dinner.
I ordered the pizza, and then told them that once the pizza arrived, they were to go to their room and eat without making a mess. "Our mom never lets us eat in our rooms though." Said Gabriel. I just told him to keep it a secret. I would hear less noise if they ate in their rooms instead of in the dining room, and that was my goal. After 15 minutes, it arrived. Time to see if this new procedure would work.
Testing Log

Subjects: All three children - Brandon, James, and Gabriel.
Procedure: Pizza arrived and was placed on the dining room table and opened.
Results: Pizza was split among the subjects. All subjects returned to their containment area successfully.
Analysis: Experiment considered a success.

It had worked! The children were all in their rooms and eating mostly quietly. I had managed to figure out a way to contain them. I was starting to feel much more confident about myself. I still hated babysitting, but even so, maybe this job wouldn't be as hellish anymore.
And then reality came crashing back down.
I heard someone call me from upstairs. Damn, I knew my strategy worked a little too well. When I went to go check it out, it was James who had called me. He looked sheepish, and was just looking at the carpeted floor of his room. At first, I wondered why, then I followed his gaze and I found out. He had dropped an entire slice of pizza face down onto the floor. So much for a peaceful dinner.
I told James to go sit at the dining room table while I cleaned this up. James' call for me had also brought his siblings over, they followed him down to the dining room table and soon the house once again filled with the annoying sounds of their play. My strategies weren't working at all. They were probably just making everything worse. I didn't know what to do, foundation tactics were failing and they were all that I knew.
Even so, I had to keep working. I wasn't just going to turn over and let myself get annoyed to death. Maybe if I let them play what they wanted, they would tire out, go to sleep, and leave me alone. The idea went against everything I had learned developing containment for the foundation, I mean, you never let an anomaly dictate the terms of their containment, in the hope that it'll make them easier to contain in the future. It would never fly at my job, and it sounded absurd compared to my previous strategies, but I was desperate, and if it goes wrong, what could really happen? They were just children. And besides, I didn't have any better ideas.
"Hey Brandon!" I yelled, and he came over quickly. "You mentioned you liked to play basketball, how about I drive you and your siblings over to the nearest basketball court and let you play around until your curfew?" Brandon was ecstatic, he was usually forced to use the short and cheap basketball hoop in their driveway, but an opportunity to play on a real court? He couldn't refuse. He went to go let his brothers know, and soon, they were all piled in my car ready to go play the day away.
It took around ten minutes of driving to actually find a court, considering I didn't actually know where the nearest one was, but we got there. Soon, the children were having a great time playing around, even if Brandon's claim of scoring goals "like every time" wasn't necessarily accurate.
Apart from a few scraped knees, it seemed like this new plan was going off without a hitch, and as the little hand on my watch began to approach 9:00, I got the children to pack it up, they seemed tuckered out. Which was exactly how I wanted them to be.
When we got back to my supervisor's house, they went to sleep without complaining, which was a big surprise for me. It seemed like my new approach to them had worked. I had peace and quiet for the next few hours before I went to sleep, and when I closed my eyes, I felt much more confident about being these children's guardian, and even more confident about the rest of my forced leave in general.
Soon, it was time for me to return to work. As surprising as it was, I felt like this leave had been good for me. I was much more sure of myself as I walked through those doors leading to my office. Of course, my supervisor was waiting in my chair. "Welcome back!" She said, "How was your break?"
Surprisingly, I answered truthfully, "It was good, you were right, the break put everything in perspective."
"Well that's great, let's hope we don't have any more mishaps in the future, alright?" And with that, she started to leave my office.
Everything felt right, but I still had something to say. "I'm just letting you know, if you ever need a babysitter and I'm available, I wouldn't be opposed to the job."
My supervisor turned around and smirked, "Of course, I'll let you know if I need one."


Perthward_bound 8/8/2017 (Thurs) 16:38:26 #98976741

Anybody here got any good stories about computers? I'm kind of bored right now.

birdbrained 8/8/2017 (Thurs) 16:40:21 #85456575

I've got a few. Back in I think around 2005, I worked for this one company, Santi Networking. They were based around the southeastern United States, but it was just weird working there. I remember nobody was allowed to physically enter the server rooms of the place I was unless they were switched off, and there were some weird noises coming from them a lot of the time. I think the servers themselves were weird though, there were a few times that some just kind of broke for no reason.

Perthward_bound 8/8/2017 (Thurs) 16:41:13 #46534569

I think I actually know what company that is. Where they the ones that kept just losing people's information and data? I only know that because there was a lawsuit about it, I think.

birdbrained 8/8/2017 (Thurs) 16:43:43 #86687867

That was only half the reason. The other half was that about 2 days before the company closed, a bunch of night shift people went missing. I was working where it happened, and once again they didn't let anybody into the server room. I could make a separate thread for this one email somebody sent me about what they found in there, but I think I deleted the email a while ago. Besides, I moved away from there right after they closed down. Not many other jobs there.

Perthward_bound 8/8/2017 (Thurs) 16:46:13 #36488772

Oh yeah, that is what happened. Google says they claimed it was a carbon monoxide leaked, killed them all and made people hallucinate stuff. Weird.

FurryInABlanket 8/8/2017 (Thurs) 17:02:01 #83185614

@birdbrained Would the farm you worked at be in West Virginia? I was part of this subreddit of people like us down there, r/SeekersOfTheHidden, and a lot of people were super curious about that building. I'd show a post, but I've been having a lot of trouble finding the sub for some reason.

Perthward_bound 8/8/2017 (Thurs) 17:34:55 #89654615

The sub doesn't seem to exist, which could be the problem.

Happened on mobile too

birdbrained 8/8/2017 (Thurs) 17:47:15 #75468165

I did some digging in the wayback machine, and it looks like it was there. I didn't actually find the sub, though. Only thing I could find was a screenshot of part of the post I think you're looking for.
@FurryInABlanket would your reddit happen to be u/GiveTheDogABlanket?

No origin found

FurryInABlanket 8/8/2017 (Thurs) 17:50:47 #87846196

Yeah, that's it. One of us just stole nostupidquestions' logo for some dumbass reason. I don't remember it being deleted at all, or even the last time I check it actually. That's weird. Could you send it to me some other way so it doesn't fall with the rest of the sub?

birdbrained 8/8/2017 (Thurs) 17:52:15 #12568796

I'll post a tweet with that image, my twitter's the same username as here. I couldn't find the site the screenshot was attached too, but I'm sure it's not going to be an issue.

Perthward_bound 8/8/2017 (Thurs) 18:01:36 #85478496

@FurryInABlanket Updates tomorrow if you go the place?

birdbrained 8/9/2017 (Fri) 09:23:45 #85656874

@FurryInABlanket You got the image right? Wayback machine was being really weird today, the image was different from yesterday.

Perthward_bound 8/9/2017 (Fri) 09:29:34 #75936459

I just took a screenshot for comparison against yesterday and it's pretty weird, content-wise.

Yesterday's image

Today's image

FurryInABlanket 8/9/2017 (Fri) 09:31:21 #75693644

@birdbrainedI saved the image in the tweet to my phone, it looks unchanged. The tweet looks unchanged too, I took a screenshot of it just to be safe. I saw you dm'ed me the Wayback link, it's changed for me too. The original poster's username vanished like the date did. I'm gonna look through my posts, see if I know a Wynningthegame.

birdbrained 8/9/2017 (Fri) 09:35:32 #36757823

The image's entire page just vanished. It's not in my search history, and pasting the link doesn't get me anything, but not like wayback's down. It's just gone.

Perthward_bound 8/9/2017 (Fri) 09:36:45 #67578490

I think we have something going down live right here. Somebody start making backups.

FurryInABlanket 8/9/2017 (Fri) 09:38:23 #12347984

The tweet's still up. I'm gonna take a screenshot of it now, so if it changes I can post the differences.

Perthward_bound 8/9/2017 (Fri) 10:02:37 #76723489

@birdbrained Check your twitter, I think you might be hacked.

birdbrained 8/9/2017 (Fri) 10:10:18 #39786238

@Perthward_bound No, it is not. I've just spent the last ten minutes checking, and there were no other logins to my account apart from my phone, which I've had on me. Furry couldn't come make the post, but they sent me the screenshot they took.

The screenshot, which I tweeted.

What I just screenshotted.

I haven't been on my phone until I got the ping.

Perthward_bound 8/9/2017 (Fri) 10:12:57 #3978654

Turning back cannot save you

Perthward_bound 8/9/2017 (Fri) 10:13:44 #23789622

@🗿Moderator Did somebody edit my post? Because I didn't write that.

🗿LimpFirebird 8/9/2017 (Fri) 10:15:26 #73295642

@Perthward_bound There was an edit made at exactly 10:14, but there's no user registered for who made it. The only other mod online is kneecaps, but they're dealing with some furry trolling in another thread. You should make sure your account is secure, just to be safe. Same goes for @birdbrained and @FurryInABlanket.

FurryInABlanket 8/9/2017 (Fri) 3:44:37 #94365974

Ok, so the reason I couldn't post earlier was because I decided to head out to the server myself to see if anything there was related to whatever's going on here. It was a lot further out from town than I expected, and it was pretty derelict, as expected. It was about 8 floors, and the lower 3 floors were pretty much empty, nothing but some old desks and paperweights somebody forgot to take. The closer I got to the top floor, where the servers were, the more stuff there was left behind. It looked mostly like they had just made everybody leave, except in almost every floor there was a locked file cabinet. I found the key and got them open, but there was nothing but a bunch of burned papers. One of them looked a bit like a printout for the server status, but that was about the only legible thing I found. After floor 5, the doors to the stairs were barricaded shut, but the chairs had rusted away and it was super easy to get up. Floor 6 was virtually untouched, it looked like everybody had just walked out one day. All the computers had their screens smashed in, though. Only thing that didn't look completely normal about that floor. Floor 7 was absolutely destroyed. Most of the desks that weren't lying on the wall were smashed to pieces, there were old scorch marks in the floor, all the computers were just bits of plastic and circuits on the board, and it turns out that barricade hadn't been moved since the night the night shift dissapeared. I found their bodies, mostly scattered all over the floor but with a few grouped near the door to the stairs. I managed to move past them into the server floor, and everything looked like it had been burnt out. A few of the servers looked like they had been smashed with something, but the others all had been set on fire and destroyed. None of them were actually functional, there was no power anywhere and they were all destroyed, but I was pretty sure I could hear something while I was there. Whatever the case, I headed back out, called the cops, talked to them about this, and headed back. I'm not sure what the story is with those guys, but I'm kind of scared to find out.

Perthward_bound 8/9/2017 (Fri) 3:45:21 #87692875

Knowledge doomed you it will not save you
[USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST]

🗿 LimpFirebird 8/9/2017 (Fri) 3:51:55 #27635432

I don't know what's going on, but all users that get compromised by this are getting banned until they contact mods about it. We don't need people getting hacked here.

birdbrained 8/9/2017 (Fri) 3:55:16 #389287536

Limp, Perthward sent me some messages saying they weren't at their computer when that post was made. The post isn't even on their screen.

FurryInABlanket 8/9/2017 (Fri) 4:01:43 #87656872

It's them

birdbrained 8/9/2017 (Fri) 4:02:32 #98762343

Furry, just go and log out of every account you have online. Whatever this is seems to only affect stuff that's logged in.

FurryInABlanket 8/9/2017 4:02:42 #98672341

Far too late to save them
[USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST]

🗿 LimpFirebird 8/9/2017 (Fri) 4:05:31 #87623401

Furry's gone. Everyone, I'm locking this thread and ending this thing here.
[THREAD LOCKED.]

FurryInABlanket 8/9/2017 #98762378

You should have left us alone
[THREAD LOCKED.]

FurryInABlanket 8/9/2017

Being in the light hurts
[THREAD LOCKED.]

FurryInABlanket

We don't want more in the dark
[THREAD LOCKED.]

[ACCOUNT DELETED]

Unless that's what it takes
[THREAD LOCKED.]

MirasYeti 8/13/2019 (Tues) 18:14:43 #87854092

Hey guys, I was chilling on main and I saw somebody mention a "Missing Link Incident", any idea what they meant by that?
[THREAD LOCKED.]