Bread_Tyrant

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In an era before time, Tellus was a world of chaos. A world of arcane gods and colossal beasts that dwarfed the dunes of the bloody desert, and toppled the snow-covered mountains of the northern wastelands. A world in its youth, as the lifeless barrens were yet to be discovered by any sentient being. The sky burst with energy as the land was sculpted by plumes of smoke and rivers of deep volcanic lava that stretched indefinitely. It was a place filled with potential, as the once mindless beasts evolved into the sparse fragments of a new era. An era of civilization, but this world was still in its humble beginnings, and for those living on Tellus, it would prove to be a fight for their life.

The fire stood proud at the centre of a loose crowd. The unblinking eyes of the surrounding men glistened in the intense heat and light from such a glorious flame. It had been worked on for countless hours, creating a large and booming flame that was felt by the surrounding forest, which lit the trees with orange and yellow hues, dancing, as it flickered and roared.
It was a small settlement of people. The group had arrived from far north, agitated to have found nothing but the continuation of a snowy forest which encompassed much of the main landmass. The great ocean which their small wooden ships had made the long and arduous journey across, had drained most of the men of much-needed rest and comfort. Many ships had been destroyed by the swirling winds and prevailing storms that echoed across the seas, with the vision of their vessels being ripped away by the hurricanes scorched in their minds. This presented an aura of misery, looming over the survivors, who sat silently by the fire. It was a gathering that consisted of tents and equipment strewn about. Axes laid blunt from the cutting of trees, barrels of assorted food sunk in the snowy soil, and blood from the many animals killed and eaten saturated the Earth. They had set up their place at a wide riverbank, with their ships bobbing as the water flowed by. The area was shielded by several mounds forming large and winding hills covered in a thin white sheet.
The sky was smothered in clouds which consisted of light greys signifying the upcoming weather. Whatever was left of the sun had been eaten by the dense blooms that would soon release their rage on the helpless forest below.
The fire which stood at the centre of this settlement was accompanied by everyone, who sat on the spare logs, warming their freezing joints, resting half-dead in the cold.
Their thick coats and ragged brown cloth, made from the hides of animals, were damp and brimming with the smell of sweat and seawater. Their beards were grand with deep browns and greys, stained with the old rotting foodstuff that was caught over the months and months of travel. Their pale faces melded into the snow and stood out against their wretched clothing. They had not been given the luxury of a nice warm bath due to the sparseness of their resources and the current temperature they had naively brought themselves into. It wasn't much, but as every man sat on their logs and laid on the cold wintery ground, a sense of hardy pride emanated from their hearts. It was sensed by everyone around. They were not warriors, or barbarians, or killers, they were travellers simply sailing the oceans and traversing the land in search of a better life. It had been months since they left home southbound, and many were beginning to grow homesick from it.
There was one outlier in the crowd. A frail kid, still in the prime of his youth only being twenty years of age. Odem hadn't had the ability to grow a beard like the rest of the surrounding crew, making his hairless chin prone to the cold atmosphere. He was probably the youngest there, staring with his blue eyes and freckled face. Sitting arms crossed, he looked over at the man to the left of him. A well-built figure by the name of Loick, with the thick coat of a wolf laying around his shoulders. The hood was composed of the wolf's head which laid atop his own, the expression of sheer rage still present on its face. The teeth pure white protruded from its red gums and blood-stained grey fur. The eyes bulging red, shot forwards almost as if it too was focused on the glorious flames. Beneath the head was a tangled mess of matted hair that led into his thick brown beard. He was the embodiment of uncleanliness, his breath reeking of fish and assorted brews. A wooden horse slowly took shape as he ran a small pocket knife across its exterior, slowly but surely shaving small amounts from the mass. The shavings became caught by the wind, travelling deep into the fire and vaporising at the heat.
To the right was another gentleman, a little more well-groomed, with a stubble that reached around his face. Still strong but much smaller than the other man, he sat resting his head on the arm. Falling into a deep sleep, a slow blink uncovered deep green eyes and a hood made from thin deer hide; old and discoloured from age. An empty bottle sat by his side, along with a broken sword from years of combat. Deneric was his name, mostly keeping to himself if he could
The other men could not be made out without awkwardly turning his head towards them, so Odem sat quietly, uncertain if he should push towards the beginning of a conversation. Pondering over the few topics he could, one stood out to him. Yesterday a hunting party was sent into the woods, hoping to find some much-needed meat to bring back for a good meal. It was a group of roughly seven people, each armed with the warmest of clothing and the bows and swords with the least amount of damage. While traversing the winding river on their wretched vessels they came across a gathering of deer. Much larger than any deer they had seen before and definitely big enough for a good, hardy meal; if they managed to catch enough. This only brought upon more sadness in Odem's mind, as the thought of a well-cooked piece of venison circled in his head. People needed a meal to keep their spirits up, which proved challenging as the seeds brought could not grow in the cold climate and the many barrels of rotting fruit and vegetation did not satisfy them enough.
“When in the hell are they gonna get here, we're starvin' out in the cold” Deneric proclaimed, in his deep, gritty voice.
“I ain't eaten a good piece of meat in weeks. What are we even doing out, wastin' away? Sometimes I think the gods are out to get us” He continued.
“Your talkin' a load'a swoodle. They'll be back soon enough, and we can all enjoy a good meal” another man called out from the other side of the fire.
“Sometimes I ain't even believe the gods exist. Why would they be subjectin' us to this” said Deneric, picking back up the bottle and letting the last drop drip and settle on his dry tongue. Wiping the snot away from his nose, he continued his rant.
“If we is meant to be created in their image or whatever, why do we gotta lose good men every day to the cold?” The others were silent, heads down and eyes weary. They listened to the man talk in an obvious drunken rage, as his eyes seemed to drift apart the more he spoke. He sounded as if gravel had been dumped in lungs, with Odem becoming agitated as saliva was thrust from his throat.
“You better watch what your sayin' round these parts!” A voice called from behind Deneric. A man by the name of Gailic. In such a disorganised group, he was the only one to present himself as a leader. A role he took great pride in and ruled the group with a strict agenda and iron fist. People respected him, as he was able to keep morale in the toughest of times. Recently he had been slacking due to the dire situation they were in, which even he couldn't make light of.
“You wouldn't want them to get any angrier would you?” He held a large cigar in one hand and a blade in the other. He walked with large steps and a thick coat and cape. Lifting the cigar to his mouth, taking one large gulp of smoke and blowing it in the face of Deneric.
“The Gods ain't meant to be messed with, especially in new territory. Now ya'll have had your break, so get back to workin'. Odem why don't you go get some firewood”
Gailic had always been looking out for the youngest of the group. Under his hard exterior, he was a kind and compassionate person.
The crowd began to disperse into the many jobs that needed doing; setting up defences and shelter, and the work that came with rationing the food. Odem was left with Gailic, who gestured him over.
“I understand that what happened back home is the whole reason you're here now. Personally, I respect that. Getting out of your comfort zone. The group will respect you soon enough. Now how's about you run off to the forest to get some more wood to keep the fire”
There was a slight smile on Gailics face as he looked down at Odem. Taking another puff from his Cigar he patted the kid on the back, as he walked past.
Odem was peering at the ground, scratching his black hair, and wandering forwards to the tree line, when he stopped.
One of the men from the hunting party was making his way towards him.
“Hey, guys there back!” Odem cried with joy. Odem looked again. The man was limping and panting as he quickly stumbled down the hill, nearly tripping. With one simultaneous motion, every member of the group looked at the blood which ran down the man's leg. Blood which led to a thick wooden arrow that protruded straight through his side. The tip was a metallic gold that caught the light of the fire. Stopping, the man began to drool blood into his beard. Everyone stood silent, watching as the man's knees buckled and he fell. Slumped on the ground with his head still raised, he reached out a bloody hand at the kid, whimpering the words “Help!” before a thin object, bolted through the wind. Its entry point caved way straight through the man's head and hit the now pink snow. It stood upright with a small accumulation of gore around its golden spike. The man was frozen in place for a second, then his head fell into the dirt.
The route the arrow had taken was over the hills, which now seemed to produce a bright orange glow from behind them, accompanied by a roar of a hundred beasts. Mere seconds had passed and the glow grew brighter and brighter. A battle horn sang out through the air, ringing through the ears of the helpless group, who's heads darted around looking for the source of the sound.
"What the fuck is that!" Deneric shouted at the sky, his sword in hand. The other men had begun to ready themselves for whatever was to come from the hill. Loick had found an axe, along with Gailic who stood squinting, as the cigar melted away in his hand.
And just as the men had gotten ready a volley of golden arrows arched forth from over the hill. Odem could see that they would fall directly onto the group of roughly thirty souls. Many were avoided, but those unfortunate enough to be contacted by one of the arrows fell in pain or simply died from the hit. The arrows were unusually large, too big to be held by any human with a bow. The bright glow and the golden arrows were unusual.
"Spirits!" There was a cry as Odem quickly turned to see a massive creature seemingly half-man-half-horse wielding the most barbaric of swords, severing the head of the crying man. The creatures were formless though appearing to be entirely composed of flames that shrieked and waved in the wind.
As soon as Odem saw the creature, dozens began to pour from the hills, their flaming hooves melting the snowy ground, kicking the dirty ice in the air. Odem stood frozen in fear as the force of the incoming attack rumbled the Earth, at the many legs moved with grace but at the same time moved with commitment and strength. Another swing of their swords and one of Gailic's men was split in two. Another and the forearm of a man was severed, shooting blood at the air, into the surrounding people. Finally coming to the realisation they were being attacked. Loick swung at one of the beasts with his axe and shouted a mighty war cry, but the axe did not penetrate the beast. The flames merely parted around the weapon, tripping Loick forwards as there was nothing to stop the power of such a swing.
The group became parted by hordes of beasts that trampled over tents, cutting through person after person. There were screams of death and cries of pain as many people lay there mutilated and dying, as the air became thick with the stench of blood. Gailic had stood his ground throughout the endeavour, but upon seeing the bloodshed and cries for help, he needed to take action. Seeing the closest person next to him with a missing leg and a pale face from the loss of blood; Gailic lifted the man over his shoulders. He did it with ease, barely breaking a sweat, as he marched forwards.
"Get to the ships!" His voice boomed, commanding everyone left to retreat away to the safety of the water.
"We can't fight them! Grab what you can!" Many stumbled around aimlessly gathering barrels of whatever they could as well as injured men. Through the chaos, they stumbled in the direction of the many ships in the river.
Odem was lucky not to have been cut down by the flames and weapons. He was completely stuck, as his brain screamed at him to go. No muscles responded. No energy was sent through his nerves. Only his warm breath could be felt as it left its white mist. Unblinking eyes stared at the fallen people.
"Odem! Get to the goddamn ships!" Gailic said, marching forwards with the man still on his back. The once grey fur had become pink as the dying person bled. He stared over at Odem, but suddenly, his eyes became shut with pain and his teeth gritted upon the feeling of a blade cutting across his back. It was from one of the flaming beasts that had come from behind and swung their large sword, not killing, but merely stunning Gailic who powered forwards. Odem, finally breaking from his state, ran forwards, ignoring the blood and bodies of the fallen. Another swing and Odem saw a second creature swiping at Gailics back, creating a cross in his flesh. Still, Gailic pushed on. He pushed on with determination, not caring for the thick wounds now embedded in him. Odem looked on in fear, as he pulled the sword from his belt and ran to the aid of Gailic.
"Odem get outa here, move on!" Gailic cried, as he carried the man with the intense sharp pain that echoed in his spine.
"Gailic we… cmon you can make it" Odem stuttered the words out.
Seeing the approaching spear from another one of the beasts, Odem readied himself, his hands gripping the sword's hilt. The beast's weapon caught up with speed, but before its blade and Odem's made contact Deneric intercepted it by pushing it to the ground. The spear became lodged in the dirt only a meter from Odem's feet. The beast moved to the left, having no way of attacking them.
"Odem, Gailic I got this, move on!" Deneric shouted, gesturing towards the ships. Many people had begun to arrive at the ships, piling on with injured men and assorted cargo. The once densely packed force of men had been reduced to a sparse group of injured people, slowly but surely making their way to the ships.
Odem had been moving alongside Gailic until they made their way to the vessels. Loick had been dragging people and throwing them onto the vessels which were now beginning to part from the land.
"Gailic! Stop the ship" Loicks voice boomed, hitting the side of the vessel. Odem was first to climb on. The sides were frozen solid from the cold temperatures, cutting Odem's hands as he made his way into the main body of the ships. Along with Loick, they lifted the injured man from Gailic's back, soon moving onto him.
"Deneric cmon!" Gailic shouted. Deneric had been making quick work of distracting the beasts by parrying them away. Deneric realising that he was the only man left living on the battlefield he made a run for the ships. Beasts had begun converging on him, but swiftly he jumped up over the edge and onto the deck. As fast as they could, the ship took off from the land.
What was left was a burning pile of cadavers, ruined tents and blood. The beasts did not step any closer, fearing the cold river. This didn't halt their attack, as they simply took the bows from their backs along with the golden arrows. Pulling back the string arrows began to tear through the air, hitting the ships with force, crumbling the damp wood.
There were three ships they had left after traversing the ocean and now they barely had enough men for one. The ships were small, consisting of a deck and one floor below. The centre of the deck housed a small room that almost stretched the length of the ship.
The crew were able to move the ship far away enough that the beast's arrows no longer reached them. Those left sat with a sigh of happiness, having avoided being brutally killed by the attack, quickly cut with the sense of dread. They had no food and now had several injured men who would surely succumb to infections or blood loss. They had lost many good men, being reduced to about twelve healthy people and ten injured ones.
"Holy shit… what in the hell was that!" Deneric said.
"I don't know" replied Gailic.
"We just got attacked by an entire army of spirits, for what goddamn reason!"
"We gotta move on" Gailic talked in a calm voice resting up against the ship's side, as the man he rescued lay Infront of him. The man was long dead, having died from blood loss. Gailic was peering down at his pale lifeless face.
"We gotta move on" Gailic repeated, staring unblinkingly at the corpse.
Odem was sitting next to him, with his head held high towards the grey sky. It had grown a deep grey now, sure to explode in a volley of rain within a matter of hours. It was as if their mood had projected into the heavens, and the deep feeling in their gut was soon to burst in a storm.
"You doing good Gailic? your back ain't doin' so well" asked Deneric, peeking behind Gailic to look at his mangled, bloody coat. The blood had created a pool around him seeping down into the depths of the ship.
"I'm holdin' up fine" Gailic said with a weary voice. His eyes began to shut, being pulled down by some invisible force.
"Take him down below deck" Deneric pointed towards two people sitting opposite them. They responded by reluctantly getting up and lifting the injured Gailic, carefully down a flight of wooden stairs away into the darkness.
Odem turned, looking back at the river bank he saw the remnants of his camp and the departing beasts, leaving their orange glow as they ascended over the hill.
The river was long and winding, flowing with great speed making the icy water hit and spill over the ship. It was lucky for them as the river allowed them to move quickly while resting, instead of using what little energy they had to distance themselves from the attackers.
"Any of you know what they were?" Odem asked, turning back to face his crew.
"Dem' was spirits, I know it. Nature wouldn't create those types of beasts" Loick said, wiping the snot from his beard and the blood from his hands with a piece of tattered cloth.
"What are spirits?" Odem asked, facing the giant man, who was curled up beside the stern.
"Spirits be made from magic. Raw magic and nobody knows where it came from, but they're here" Loick explained. He went on.
"I think dem' spirits came to get ridda' us. Stop us disturbin' the forest or whatever"
"So do you think because we was choppin' all them trees and killing all the fauna, they decided to kill us. What we meant to do now?" Deneric asked.
"Like the captain said, we keep goin'" Replied Loick. Loick looked over at the corpse retrieved by Gailic. He spoke.
"Should we chuck him in. He'll just be a dead weight to us…"
"What about his family back home," Odem said.
"What about everyone's family back home huh… we lost a lot of people, and left a lot of people, what about their families" Loick snapped.
"We take what we can get. Once we reach a safe place we can bury the dead" Deneric snapped back. They fell silent after that. Many would have liked to be left with their thoughts; to mourn their dead companions and dread the new journey to come.


Perhaps this may be a mirage
of a madman driven to the edge.
But perhaps a well placed barrage
may finally break the pre-cracked pledge.
Reader, should there be any.
Please do not let my ideals fall
but let them rise again and conduct the ferry
of war and fire, break down their wall.
Bring them to justice, answer the call.
If all is well then why must so many die
to their sick, sadistic vices?
Their hesitant insistence, all of it lies!
And yet they spit them out like geysers!
If we allow this to continue
all will fall to their desires.
So, I plea good reader, find it in you.
take down these liars.
I can hear them nearing now.
So my time is short.
A laser dot as they take a bow.
And now I question all I was taught.
They Found Me!


Bread_Tyrant

Author Page

I can't believe it. I got mugged. Me, the Wendigo, stalker of the night, terror of the frost, was mugged by some hooligans in an alleyway. How had I come to this? I used to be something feared, but ever since those stupid contracts we were forced to make with the human world, things have been… dull. No longer am I feared as the cannibalistic beast of the night, the creature that would sneak around villages, consuming the flesh of man. Now I have to eat fake human or 'synthetic homosapien' as they call it. It's the only thing I can eat being a Wendigo and all, and it tastes like dirt.
I work a job nine to six, five days a week, having to contend with sitting in small chairs and a tiny work space, pressing a keyboard with my bony cold fingers. You know how hard it is to adjust to things like this, having to use a phone, put on a suit over my boney frame, doing jobs like getting everyone's coffee; well not anymore since I turn it into ice. No one wants to talk either, or be around me. Something about me smelling like a year old corpse and having a freezing cold aura around me. They won't let me near the water cooler since I just turn it into a brick. Life is hard.
I remember the good old days of hunting out at night for any stupid campers, now I'm reduced to something meaningless. No longer are there stories about me being out on TV or film, nowadays the few people stop me in the street to ask for a picture. This life is pathetic. I see posters of upcoming movies staring Bigfoot and Nessy. I see Sirens, Mermaids and Mermen alike in perfume commercials. Everyone seems to be doing better than me. No one cares about an old stupid Wendigo.
I stand here now, having had my wallet and its contents taken from me. My briefcase full of useless documents in one hand and my jacket in the other. With no money I couldn't get a taxi and so began the long walk to my tiny studio apartment. Walking wasn't the problem, I had done it many times, the problem was the environment. I got many weird looks from people, even if monsters were a norm. Some would mutter something racist, others would hold their children away from me, many just ignored me.
About two hours later I was indoors, opening the fridge to look up on my stock of microwavable dirt to eat later. The place was covered in marks, not only from these claws of mine, but these massive antlers on my head. Whenever I stood upright they would breach the ceiling and I'd get in a scuff with the landlord. It's not like I could control it, it was these stupid humans who put me here in the first place.
You think a guy like me, from the forest would be given some kind of help adjusting, but no. They paid attention to all those famous monsters, only giving me about two thousand dollars and a pat on the back for not killing anyone anymore. Sometimes I think about visiting the forest where I came from. My kingdom of trees, no buildings in sight. Next chance I get I'm taking the bus out of the city.
It was the next morning. I did not need sleep, for I was classed as dead technically, so I spent all night planning. I didn't bother heading to work, nor did I bother turning off the lights or locking the apartment door. I just left with only the clothes on my back, mainly to avoid getting fined for nudity.
I left the building taking the bus down by the city's outskirts. For once I looked out the window with excitement. It was going to a place I hadn't been to for a while. It took me down by the city square, where I could see monsters and humans protesting alike.
The bus drive was long, but worth it if it meant I would never have to be trapped in this place again. That got me thinking though. I'm pretty sure it's illegal for me to suddenly return back to my ways as a wendigo. Then I remembered the place I was returning to used to be full of hunters who would pay good money to see my head up on a wall. I remember being shot at, or having my leg caught in a bear trap. I hope things have changed.
I got off by a stop on a long road right by the forest. It was night so the only lights were the street lambs high above me. I could've sworn I was able to see in the dark. Perhaps my acute senses had been severely dulled by the city, but I could always gain them back over time.
Then came a feeling of hunger. I hadn't eaten anything all day, and I didn't bring any food with me, not that I really cared for that fake crap. Looking down at myself I realised something. Had I forgotten how to hunt. Had I forgotten how to stalk prey for hours on end or be silent in darkness of the night. All I did was wander down by the forests edge, along the road, hungry and disappointed.
There was a service station by the road. I never remembered seeing anything like it when I was here, nor was the road here when I used to hunt. They must have been new.
I entered the shop to see a monster at the counter. I was slightly shocked by that. It was hard for monsters to get work that involved meeting people face to face.
"Good to see I'm not the only one around here" He said, surprised aswell.
"I'm just browsing" I replied.
The monster had the name tag Darrel. I think he was some kind of dark spirit, since he was just kinda floating, made of black smoke in a vaguely human shape.
Checking what money I had left I bought a pack of some kind of raw meat. I didn't care that much asking as I could eat it immediately as it got out.
"So what brings you round here?" He asked as I handed him the money.
"Well I was actually returning back… I mean I think I'm going to head into the city" I replied.
"I hear you man, many of us have lost our roots. I guess if you can't beat em, join em" He said.
I said "I guess so" as I left the shop into the night. I walked back up to that bus stop waiting for a trip back to the city.


Coming Soon - Malvarik

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F.A.Q.

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This was just my luck.
I had a cushy job in Site-99's Archival Wing and I just had to go and fuck it up. How the hell was I supposed to know that Head Archivist Flemings was right behind me when I was talking crap about his accent? The next day, I got a notice from the higher-ups that I'd been selected to fill a missing position in the Department of Extraversal Affairs. There's a reason all the other departments avoid that place like the plague, weird stuff sticks to the D.E.A. like flies on shit. Just walking by their office building should be considered a hazard all it's own, with how many dimensional rifts they deal with on a daily basis.
I had a plan, though. I'd let them give me the grand tour and come up with some excuse as to why I can't be in their department, maybe suck-up to their Director a bit and convince them I'm not the right fit for the job and should be sent back to Archives. That plan in mind, I took a deep breath and opened the door to their lobby.
Empty.
That was….odd. Every department had a secretary of some sort, a sort of barrier between the rest of the facility and the lab. I walked over to the empty desk where the secretary should have been, noticing as I drew close that there was a steaming cup of coffee next to the keyboard.
“Hey, buddy. Personal space, yea?” a male voice emitted from the seat where someone should be seated.
“What the fuck?!” I yelped, nearly knocking over the water cooler as I jumped backwards. It was only now that I noticed the indent of someone's rear in the chair.
“You must be the new guy. Hold on, I'll get someone to give you a tour.” a tired and unenthusiastic voice said as the button near the keyboard seemed to press itself.
“I…thought the Director was going to give me my tour, or the Vice Director.” I was still trying to understand how the hell the higher-ups were letting an invisible man be a secretary for a whole department.
“Yea, good luck with that. Director Castro's always busy with work and the Vice Director is busy with, well, whatever the hell it is that he does.” His coffee cup lifted up into the air and tilted down, it's contents disappearing into this air as it presumably entered his mouth.
After a few moments of waiting, the doors leading to the rest of the department swung open. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it was a normal human that'd been assigned as my guide. He looked to be in his late forties, with a bulky build and a dense black beard speckled with bits of gray. His head, meanwhile, was devoid of any hair and it was only after a few moments of staring that I noticed it was way too glossy.
“Yo, new guy. My eyes are down here.”
I realized I'd been staring at his exceptionally shiny head and quickly moved my gaze down towards his face. “S-sorry! I didn't mean to-”
“Don't worry about it. Happened a few years back when my dumb ass fell into a Way. Name's Vance, nice to meet you.” he said, extending a large and meaty hand to shake.
“Jack Sharp. Nice to meet you.” I wasn't sure if it was intentional or simply Vance not knowing how strong he was, but his grip as we shook made me worry for the future use of my hand.
“Director Castro is out on business, otherwise he'd be giving you the tour. One of the other field operatives, Sartori, left a big fucking mess in another Site-99. As for the Vice Director…he's probably relaxing somewhere..” Vance said with an exasperated sigh and glance towards the secretary.
“See you've already met Mitchell. He's a good guy, you can come to him with any questions you have, just don't ask him for fashion advice.” Vance said with a small smirk.
“Fuck you too, Vance.” Mitchell replied, raising his coffee cup towards the pair before resuming his work on the computer.
“Anyways, let's get on with the tour. We'll hit up the breakroom first, see if some of the lads are there.” Vance said, nodding towards me to follow him.
Entering the department, I was immediately struck by the smell. It wasn't a bad stench or anything of the like, but rather the overpowering smell of cherry air fresheners. Vance must've noticed my reaction, because he chuckled a bit as we approached the door to the breakroom.
“Little known fact, places that have recently had a dimensional rift open up give off this terrible stench. The cherry masks it perfectly for whatever reason. You'll get used to it.” Vance said as he pushed open the doors, revealing a rather large lounge area equipped with a small kitchen, seating area, and pool table. The only other occupants were a man and woman, the latter having blue skin and… fins?
Again, my confusion must have been plastered across my face because Vance chuckled once again and gave me a slap on the back. “Bet you've never seen a fish-woman, huh? You don't gotta worry, Brooks here doesn't bite. Well, so long as you don't get on her bad side.”
As she approached, I could see her aquatic features more clearly. Where humans would have ears, she instead had a pair of fins sticking out the side of her head. A row of gills also lined her neck, slightly obscured by the purple hair that reached just down to her shoulders.
“Nice to meet you, lov. I'm Brooks, a field operative just like chrome dome behind ya.” She said with a grin full of terrifyingly sharp teeth. Her accent also caught me by surprise, as it was distinctly British.
“Yea, nice to meet you.” I said, extending my hand to shake. Luckily, her grip wasn't as painful as her bald counterpart.
I watched as the other man stepped up beside Brooks. Unlike Vance, he had a lanky build and pale complexion. His crop of brown hair reached down to just above his ears and he had a bit of stubble that looked like it was just growing in. All-in-all, he reminded me a lot of Shaggy from Scooby Doo. “What's up, man? Name's Russell but all my buddies call me Lucky.”
He sounded more like a surfer dude than someone working at The Foundation, but I guess all sorts of people worked here. I went for a handshake but was instead met with a high-five from the laid-back agent. “And why do they call you Lucky?”
“This lout has a knack for somehow not dying, that's why. I saw a Gavorian swallow him whole and when we killed the damn thing he just cut his way out of it's stomach. The Foundation is starting to think he's anomalous…” Brooks interjected, playfully elbowing Lucky in the ribs.
“Oh yeaaaa, that did happen! It was gnarly, that guy was like really pissed.” he said with a chuckle.
“Thought there'd be more of you lazing around. Where's everyone else?” Vance asked the pair.
“Out helping the Director. It was Sartori's mess, so the Director said it was only fair that he helped repair the damage.” Brooks responded with a shrug.
“If Sartori makes it another year here, I'll be fucking amazed…" Vance said with a huff.
“Anyways, I'm gonna give the newbie a tour of the rest of the place. If you see the Director or the Vice Director, send either of them our way.” Vance's demand was met with nods from both agents, who promptly went back to relaxing in the breakroom.
Leaving the breakroom, Vance brought me to yet another set of doors just around the corner. “Here's the Armory. Pretty self-explanatory, really. Higher-ups keep us pretty well stocked, since you never really know when a rift might open up somewhere. You'll want to run here first if something comes after you.”
“What do you mean by something? I asked tentatively as he pushed open the doors, revealing rows of metallic lockers. Racks on the walls held weapons I'd never seen before, stuff straight out of a science fiction novel.
“Oh, all sorts of things get in here. When you're working with dimensional doorways, it's natural that a few rats sneak in every now and then.” he said with a shrug and obvious nonchalance.
I didn't quite get what he meant, but I at least understood that any sort of “rat” that snuck through dimensional rifts was not the sort of thing I'd want to run across. “That… doesn't sound good.”
Another voice nearby would be the one to respond to me, instead of Vance. “Yeah, people really don't think about how hard shit from other dimensions is to kill. Sometimes you can't even use guns, gotta throw water on them or something. Like Signs!”
To our left was a counter that ran the length of the wall, a plexiglass screen separating us from the occupant inside. An occupant that was…. a square?
Scratch that, a collective of squares. I couldn't quite wrap my head around what I was looking at as a cloud of gray blocks drifted around the area behind the plexiglass counter, some of them occasionally ricocheting off the glass and slowly drifting back towards the wall behind them. “And you are…?” I asked tentatively, trying not to make my confusion visibly apparent.
“What, Vance didn't tell you about me? And here I thought we were buddies…” The cloud of blocks softly vibrated with each word.
“Name's Gallagher. I'm the one that signs off on all the shiny gadgets the agents use in the field. Basically, I'm the poor schmuck they put in charge of the armory.” Gallagher continued as another one of their cubes casually floated past Vance and I before zipping back to its host.
“He's a ‘visitor' like Brooks and Mitchell. He's one of those ‘rats' I mentioned, something that snuck it's way into our reality when someone left the door open.” Vance said as he approached the counter and leaned against its glossy surface.
“I take offense to being called a ‘rat' you know. That rift you opened up was in my living room, after all.” Gallagher said with a huff as a clump of his cubes slowly pushed a clipboard towards Vance.
“Also, you never signed off on that Dematerializer you took yesterday…”
Vance rolled his eyes and snatched the clipboard from him, quickly scribbling something on it before sliding it under the plexiglass. “There, happy? C'mon Sharp, let's head over to Storage. Stay here any longer and Gallagher is going to find some sort of paperwork for you to fill out.”
Grabbing me by the shoulder, I'd suddenly find myself whisked away and back into the white hallway outside. Without saying another word, Vance led me to a door just around another corner. This one was labeled “Storage” and was already slightly ajar. From within, I could hear a series of low groans coming from something.
“Shit. Hold on, get behind me.” Vance said, drawing his pistol and taking a position in between me and the door. He grabbed hold of the doorknob and slowly opened the door, his other hand keeping the pistol close to his chest.
I could feel my heart beating in my chest as the groans seemed to be getting louder from within the storage room. Was it some sort of alien creature from a rift, feasting on one of my coworkers? Had someone been injured by some sort of creature and left here? With all the strange shit I'd already seen today, it was safe to say that nothing was off the table.
Vance reached to the side and flicked a light switch, illuminating the room. Immediately, the source of these pained groans became apparent. Laying in the middle of the room was a small humanoid with a gelatin-like body. He wore a version of the Foundation janitorial uniform tailored to fit his disproportionate body. One hand cradled his stomach and the other had a loose grip on a tape measure.
“Is that a… staff member?” I asked.
“Yea, that's Salas. Little bugger is supposed to be in charge of organizing Storage. As you can see he's-”
”Hungry…”the small creature moaned.
“He gets like this if he hasn't eaten in awhile.” Vance said as he withdrew a candy-bar from his pocket. Without even unwrapping it, he tossed the candy towards Salas. As it made contact with his skin, it was absorbed and I could actually see it begin to break down inside of him.
“It's like those slimes in games.” I commented idly, remembering some game my nephew had shown me awhile back that had such creatures. I watched as Salas slowly got to his feet and turned towards us. Small black dots seemed to function as his eyes, evident as they looked up towards Vance.
“Vance, you saved me! I thought I was a goner!” He said happily with a wave of his hand towards the much larger agent.
“You forgot your lunch today or something?”
“Well I sorta got extra hungry this morning and I… ate… it.” Salas said meekly as he avoided our gazes.
Vance let out a small sigh and turned back towards me. “So yeah, this is Salas. He's in charge of Storage. The Director picked him up during a mission and brought him back with him for whatever reason. Don't let his appearance deceive you, he's actually fairly competent… provided he's had something to eat.”
“Nice to meet you! This is where the items that fall into rifts go! You'll find all sorts of stuff here!” Salas exclaimed, gesturing towards the rows and rows of boxes in the rather extensive storage room.
As if to demonstrate, I watched as he waddled over to an opened box and withdrew a small conch. He pressed it against his translucent lips and blew, resulting in a series of what sounded like burps from the shell.
“Most of the stuff here is harmless, like this one! It's just stuff that agents picked up or that fell through when rifts opened up in the department.” he said, stashing the conch back into the box with the rest.
“The dangerous stuff is sent to HQ or thrown back into whatever rift it came from. Everything you see here is either useless or does the equivalent of party tricks.” Vance said, nodding towards the box containing the shell.
That was good, I was about to ask about the potential for dangerous items. In the Archival Wing, we dealt with all sorts of items that appeared mundane on the surface but had the potential to wreak havoc. Despite their strange setup, it was good to know that the D.E.A had some sense when it came to handling dangerous objects.
“We'll let you get back to it, Salas. If the Director or Vice Director stop by, let them know we're doing a tour for the rookie.” Vance said as he turned to leave.
“Will do! Bye!” the slime said happily as he went back to his duties.
We took our leave and continued down a hallway to another set of doors. “Welcome to the Labs. Here's where they make the magic happen.”
I don't think there was anything that could have prepared me for what came next. He opened the doors, revealing a room three times as large as it should've been. White tiles covered the floor, blinding fluorescent bulbs reflecting light off their shiny surfaces. Dozens of scientists, some of which weren't even close to being human, were busy working on their respective projects to notice our entrance. I could see a dimensional rift in one corner of the room, locked away behind a protective glass case. A red neon sign above it read “IN USE'' and a few scientists seemed to be using scientific instruments to either study it or maintain it. The cherry air freshener was much more pungent in this section of the building, causing me to wrinkle my nose.
One of the scientists, who appeared to be a humanoid gecko of some sort, saw us and gave a cheery wave. “Vance! Long time no see!” he said as he jogged over to us.
“Quint, I saw you an hour ago, you lizard-brain.” Vance said with a half-grin as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“Ah, yes! Sorry, you know how finicky time can be here. Very uncertain, yes! Is this a new person?” he said, his speech fast-paced and hard to keep up with.
“Yep, was just giving him a tour of the place. This is Quint, one of our lead researchers in the department. He's bloody brilliant, probably the smartest guy here.” Vance said, nodding towards the reptilian scientist, who gave me another cheery wave and toothy smile.
“Nice to meet you. You came at the perfect time, we were about to-”
Before he could finish his sentence, alarms began blaring throughout the laboratory. Scientists dropped what they were doing and rushed towards the laboratory exits. Within a few seconds of their departure a dimensional rift quickly appeared in the room, a rush of air accompanying it that blew equipment off the shelves and nearly knocked us over. Brooks, Lucky, and a group of other agents burst in through the door behind us, equipped with rifles and each holding what looked like a… metallic Rubik's Cube?
“Who the hell is it now? Multiversal Foundation?” Brooks asked Vance, tossing him a rifle that lay holstered on her back.
“Fuck if I know! It just showed up, could be anyone!” he responded, catching the rifle and quickly pointing it towards the portal.
I was now acutely aware how I, a simple data analyst, was extremely out of place. Maybe I could still get out of here unscathed and not dragged into whatever hell lay on the other side of that portal. “Maybe I should just-”
Before I could finish my sentence, a man burst through the portal, dragging someone behind him by the collar of his jacket. From their gear, I could tell at once that they were Foundation soldiers. The man being dragged had his rifle pointed at the rift and was firing off both expletives and ammunition. It only took a few seconds for us to catch a glimpse of whatever lay beyond the portal as spike-covered tentacles slithered out of the tear and reached for the soldiers.
“Open fire!” Vance roared as him and the other agents began shooting at the enormous tendrils grasping at their surroundings.
I, having only ever fired a gun once in my life and content with that fact, quickly ducked behind a nearby desk and slammed my palms against my ears to block out a fraction of the roaring gunfire.
The bullets didn't seem to be doing much to the tentacles by the looks of it, only mere annoyances to whatever horrible creature they belonged to.
“Brooks, Lucky, shut it down!” Vance called out to the pair of agents.
I watched as Lucky tossed one of those metallic Rubik's Cube devices to Brooks, who promptly slid it right underneath the portal. Not a second later, bright light erupted from the device and formed a luminescent cage around the portal. The tentacles were severed and I watched in awe as the cage began to shrink, compressing the portal until it was reduced to the size of a literal sugar cube. The severed tentacles wriggled around for a few more moments before suddenly turning to ash.
“Good fucking work, you two.” Vance said as he clapped Brooks on the back and picked up the small cube. I watched as he tossed it to another Agent, who quickly started jogging towards a door labeled ‘Universal Incinerator'.
Vance turned to me and offered a hand up, which I quickly accepted. “Thing with portals is that they're a bitch to close. So, we lock 'em up with the cubes and toss them in the Universal Incinerator.”
The way he said it made it seem like it was such an easy concept to grasp but I still had no goddamn clue what he was talking about. They just condensed the portals and threw them in a garbage chute, basically? This department was crazier than I thought…
“Ah, Mr. Sharp. Director Castro, nice to meet you. The gentleman on the floor is Sartori, the one who riled up the monster you just saw.” The larger agent said as he removed his helmet and offered me a hand to shake.
I only hoped my face didn't look as confused as I felt when I saw his face. The former revolutionary turned leader of Cuba, Fidel Castro in his prime, stood before me. I was about to say something about it when I realized it wasn't worth the effort. Why was I expecting someone normal to be heading a department like this?
Just as we all began to relax, another portal suddenly opened up in the center of the room. For a brief moment, I could see pristine white beaches and a roaring sea on the other side before a tan-skinned man with a dirty-blond ponytail stepped through. He wore a lab coat over a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of khakis, his feet peaking through some open-toed sandals. In one hand was a clipboard, in the other what could only be a mojito.
“Oh. Did I miss something?” he said, before taking an awkwardly loud sip of his drink.
“And that's the Vice Director.” Castro said with a sigh.


It was a beautiful, sunny day as Ellie Duong went on a trip.
She had just graduated from Yale a few weeks ago, her bachelor's degree in hand. Yet she still had to sit on this private bus with "other talented graduates" because of this fucking work-study program. She thought back on why she was sent here. Her mother was a talented woman, but she was too strict to her children. Education, eating, entertainment, socializing… as if Ellie had been a doll. After all those years of studying, she would have more freedom, no longer having her time micromanaged— yet it still wasn't the truth, because she found herself trapped in the struggle for jobs. How long will it be until she becomes finally free? Ever since she was a little girl, she had always believed that she was not the only person with such thinking. Humans were no more than animals in a cage, and those managing to escape their smaller restraints would still be trapped in bigger cages, still isolated from the rest of the world.
Years of conformity made her constantly desire to live the life outside her reach, even for just a moment. She promised herself she would exchange everything for that, and it was time for her to do it. "I could always turn them down as soon as I get there. Then I could finally travel as much as I like.", she looked out of the bus window, lost in thought. "How long has it been since the last time I looked at the blue sky?". Maybe it was a peaceful day for her.
Suddenly, a message popped up on her phone.

mom

7:35 PM 04/03/2026

Remember to go to the piano lesson when you finish the meal.

You have already missed Mr. Smith's lesson twice.

…
11:00 AM 10/05/2027

Someone told me that you didn't attend class today.

where the f*ck have you been

talk to me young girl

I'm so sorry mom, my car broke down this morning 😢

no more explanations, I will talk to your father

…
6:27 PM 21/08/2029

hey mom, can i go hang out with my friends tonight?

for just about an hour, and then i will come back to the dorm.

i promise

no.

…
7:00 PM 02/12/2030

Mom, two more days until my graduation.

can you two come, either of you is fine

…hello?

We are very busy lately. Your father has to meet an important customer on that day so we won't attend.

I hope you can understand. This business is very important.

…
Today

Are you coming there soon?

I have prepared a presentation for you. Remember to read that.

We have spent a lot of money to get you the opportunity to apply for the company, so don't disappoint me.

Not yet mom, still have a long trip. I'm pretty tired, so please don't text me more. Will call back when I get there.

She texted back then threw the phone aside. Boredom and disappointment took over her, forcing her to find something else for entertainment. She noticed an iPad next to her seat. "The instructor says we should use this device to know more about the company during the trip. Well, I have nothing to do anyways." She picked up the iPad as she thought, tapping on the only app visible on the screen. One video file showed up on the device after a few seconds.

She hit play.

...

Hi, and welcome to the introductory tape to your new job at The SCP Foundation. It's our honor to guide you - a brilliant student among many other talented students from top universities in the world.
Since you have access to this file, you will probably know who we are. But in case you don't, we will introduce ourselves and the situation again.
1.

    Anomaly
    /əˈnɑː.mə.li/
noun
  Strange, unnatural objects, entities, and phenomena.

Against the laws of physics, these things can turn our normal lives into chaos.
Anomalies are all around you, appearing in all shapes and sizes: animals, trees, vehicles, food, weather, …, from the simplest thing like a rock to the wildest thing like the sun. And our job is to fight back.
2.
The SCP Foundation, a public organization, was established many years ago with the mission to protect humanity from anomalies. Our duty is to keep them away from society by following three priorities.
Secure: We prevent anomalies from falling into the hands of civilians or rival agencies, through extensive observation and surveillance and by acting to intercept such anomalies at the earliest opportunity.
Contain: Though people widely know the fact that anomalies are pervasive and readily reachable, we will still utilize all resources to help relocate and keep under control anomalies to the best of our abilities: the rate of discovering anomalies is increasing, but such increase should not happen to how fast civilians get to know about them.
Protect: We will help confine the edge of human knowledge carefully so that the route of technical or civilizational development will not fall into perilous traps created by anomalies - until they are either fully understood or new theories of science can be devised based on them. The Foundation may also neutralize or destroy anomalies as a last resort, if they are determined to be too dangerous to be contained.
3.
To run the business, The Foundation has to recruit many talented individuals around the world - including you.
Eduskip, (Education and SCP), is one of the newly established divisions in the Foundation. Originally founded by Doctor L, the project itself helps the Foundation to cooperate with top universities in the world, to recruit the most talented students, and to train them to become top-tier researchers in paranormal study. Because of the Foundation's security and The Veil protocol in the past, the project was suspended until now. With more resources and advanced technology as well as the study continuing to branch out into many complex areas, we need genius young minds to come up with new perspectives for The Foundation.
As trainee staff you will experience many benefits.

A benefit to learning: Leave behind what you had been taught in regular universities, we will bring you a whole new way of learning. Memetics? Thaumatology? Pataphysics? You will have the opportunity to systematically study subjects that you have never heard of. Although humanity is gradually adapting to live with anomalies, they are still a threat to us. When joining us, you can acquire experiences in handling them directly, experience Foundation procedures in the flesh, and be enlightened about their source.

A benefit to your loved ones: The mission you are about to perform is one of the hardest jobs in the world. That being said, to support new interns, The Foundation is willing to pay thousands of dollars per month, or even per week. You will never have to worry about financial problems or taxes again. We will also keep your family safe, taking care of them for you. The Foundation always has a security policy for the researcher's family as well as protocols at your disposal so that you can freely dedicate your talent without worrying about other relationships.

A benefit to your future: After working with us for long enough, you will have more opportunities to go further in this science. Currently, The Foundation is cooperating with many other paranormal corporations such as Anderson Robotics or ICUST. We always organize personnel exchange projects every year, so you can easily get yourself a ticket to those places if you work hard.

And that's all you need to know about us. We're looking forward to beginning this journey with you.

A new feeling crept through her spine. This amount of information came so quickly, rushing into her mind. So many questions to be solved, so many things to be answered. While Ellie's mind was filled with thoughts, the bus stopped.
She got off, in awe with the scenery before her eyes. The blue sky was replaced by a strong, solid dome. A large facility with hundreds of people pacing back and forth, all up to their ears in work. She walked briskly, past the sealed adjacent rooms, having nothing on the exterior but a large glass pane. Inside each of them, advanced machinery that she had never seen before were working, as well as those things- “anomalies”, as they called them. Strange creatures were trapped inside, shrieking, emitting blood-curdling noises. Scientists stood right before them, calmly and composedly taking notes. Their faces displayed exhaustion after long working hours.
She heard a ting from her phone.

Are you there yet?

She smiled, "Maybe this place is not that bad".

[URL_OF_PREVIOUS TITLE OF PREVIOUS]

EduSkip Division

First Lesson


"To the untrained eye, wizardry is dead. Parascholars debate and argue endlessly over the exact tipping point; the rise of Christianity, the Inquisitions of Western Europe, the invention of penicillin; the list goes on. They are only half right. True, these events made sure the days of pointy-hat-wearing bearded men hunched over a cauldron are long gone, but wizards never went away. They simply diversified their portfolio."

— Foundation Senior Researcher Henry Maris, American Druids: Thaumaturgists in the New World.

18/03/1998, 5:42 PM
Abilene, Texas

Even the most charitable person would be at a loss when asked to compliment Big John's Salvage And Scrap. While most scrapyards had a certain rustic charm with towers of aging cars and neat little aisles cleared of refuse, Big John's dealt in the junk that the other scrapyards wouldn't touch with a ten-foot-pole.
To the right of the pile of paint chippings and just past the corpse of a worryingly large rat was the rather curious sight of a pristine, blue 18-wheeler, with a pair of pants sticking out from under the hood. Moving closer, one would realize that those pants were attached to a person, who was currently rummaging around in the engine, using more expletives than was really necessary while punctuating each one with the clang of a wrench.
“Ethan Park?”
A brief pause. Then the clanging resumed, a quick “We're closed, check back tomorrow.”
was uttered with the tone of someone who's said it a thousand times to a thousand different customers.
“Oh, I'm, uh, not here to drop off anything.”
“Then you're trespassing. Come back tomorrow when I'm on the clock.”
“Cooper High, Class of ‘92.”
A longer pause. Then Ethan climbed out of the engine, dabbing his oil-stained brow with an equally stained napkin. He squinted, she'd swapped a buzz cut for a ponytail, and her ripped jeans for a blazer, but it was still undoubtedly—
“Christ, Emily, is that you?”
She spread her arms out with a grin. “The one and only.”
“How long has it been, four years?”
“Six I think, didn't realize you were still working here.”
“I own this place actually. John, he passed a year ago, some heart thing. No family, so he left the whole thing to me.”
“Sorry to hear that, he was a great guy.”
“He was, yeah.”
An awkward silence as they both inspected their shoes. Ethan was the first to break it.
“I assume you didn't come here to reminisce with your high school sweetheart though.”
“Right, yeah, yeah,” she started digging her hands in her pockets. “Just one more thing, you remember senior prom?”
He groaned. “God, don't remind me, I showed up to your house in suspenders and a-”
“Yeah it was horrible, but do you remember after the dance, we drove down to the lake and you gave me those flowers?”
“Of course, a bunch of roses if I remember correctly?.”
“That's what I remember too.” she finally pulled her hands out, holding a small business card. “Of course, I also remember you opening a portal out of thin air and pulling them out of Mrs. Worth's garden three miles away. Class Seven Dimensional Rift, one of the most advanced thaumaturgic acts we know, and you used it to try and score your first kiss.”
Ethan was about to retort that actually he had kissed plenty of people before then but stopped dead in his tracks. Thaumaturgy. The word echoed in his mind. Fancy term for wizardry; so fancy in fact, that the only people who used it were those who weren't big fans of wizards as a whole. He squinted at the card she held, and a certain three arrow logo greeted him.
Great, the Foundation. If half the things he heard about them were true, the only thing he'd be seeing for the rest of his life was the inside of a cell.
His eyes darted around, searching desperately for an out. No backup goons, but Emily had what looked to be a holster on her hip, and he wasn't keen to test out if he could dodge bullets. Unfortunately, she was also blocking the only route out, so he'd have to get creative. He was halfway through tracing Nälkä runes on his palms and reciting The Forested Meadow's Words of Power when-
“I'm not here to arrest you.”
He looked up. Emily was standing with her hands in the air and holster on the ground a few feet away. “I've got a job offer for you, now you can turn my head into a goldfish or whatever, or you can hear me out, and get a gig.”
"A job? Thought you people preferred to lock up my type."
Emily sighed, and for the first time Ethan noticed the bags under her eyes. "Look, normally we would, but we've got an extenuating circumstance, and people like you are our best bet. You'll get paid too. Very well."
Ethan leaned against the truck's hood, runes still sparkling up and down his forearm, ready to turn Emily into ribbons at a moment's notice. “Look, I've got a decent reputation going with the," he snapped his fingers, "folks like me around here. if I start helping a Jailor, that won't exactly do wonders for-”
“A hundred thousand dollars.”
He swallowed hard. “What's the job?”

Delivery. The-powers-that-be commanded that some exotic material be sent to a place called “Site-95”, some Area-51-type bullshit1 a couple miles south of St. Louis. Unfortunately, the cargo wasn't safe enough to use normal air or road, so a discreet dimension-hopping (Ethan asked if she could add dashing to the list of alliterative adjectives, she vetoed the suggestion.) thaumaturge was just the ticket. As soon as she finished rattling off the details, she flicked her business card towards him and left, telling him to be ready by eight in the morning tomorrow.
As it turned out, shadow organizations were annoyingly punctual. By the time Ethan stopped ignoring his alarm, got dressed and finished shoveling a quick spoonful of cereal in his mouth, Emily was standing at his door with a near-identical suit to the day before, and a group of shadow government spooks behind her surveying every inch of his truck. Before he could so much as protest, a forklift came trundling down with his payload, completely covered in a black tarp.
It was spare parts for an excavator, one of the agents had explained to Ethan in the slow, steady tone that a parent would use when talking to their kid about Santa Claus. He caught a glimpse of the “spare parts” as it was loaded into his cargo space; he was pretty sure excavators weren't covered in a mixture of what looked like blood and motor oil.
Now, the truck charged down a country road at seventy miles an hour. Behind the wheel, Ethan had spread out a dozen maps, haphazardly scribbling and measuring out points on the dashboard.
To the right of him, completely still, was his bodyguard, who with his sunglasses and earpiece, looked like he just got out of Air Force One. Resting on his lap was some sort of modified shotgun, faintly glowing red. Ethan wasn't a firearms expert, but it was very clear that being on the business end of that thing would shorten your lifespan dramatically.
He scanned the horizon, which he was approaching at a breakneck pace. There, at that fence that looked like a breeze could knock it over.
SCREEEEEEEEEEE-
The cabin lurched slightly as the truck made a hard turn left, quickly tipping back with a thunk. As Ethan batted the 1976 Geographic Survey of North Texas away from his face, he glanced over at the bodyguard, who maintained a passive expression and a white-knuckled grip on the shotgun.
“There's a lot more where that came from,” Ethan shouted. If the man responded, the near-deafening engine rattle drowned it out. Grinning, he pushed the pedal to the metal and then some.
They continued for another half hour, making sharp turns at dizzying speeds at seemingly random moments; a collapsed farmhouse, a rusted gate, the rotting stump of an oak tree. However, if one were to trace the truck's path from a birds-eye view, they would have noticed a near perfect depiction of the Daevite rune Sarbálige Hios: “To Open The Way”.
As the truck sped past a “No Trespassing” sign, it began to glow a dull orange, then a fluorescent red, then a brilliant pink, then a blinding purple, and then-
It was gone. The sign wobbled, then fell from its post, the words barely legible underneath scorch marks.

19/03/1998, 9:51 AM
???, ???

In between worlds stretch the Ways, rips in space connecting their Ins and Outs to every destination imaginable. This near-instantaneous travel is a double-edged sword, these holes in reality itself crackle with pure thaumic energy, threatening to rip apart any foolhardy enough to enter.
In a flash, an electric blue 18-wheeler was suddenly barreling down the blinding tunnels at a hundred miles an hour, wheels hovering slightly above the ground thanks to hidden hoverboosters boosted from Prometheus Labs. Though Ethan had travelled through countless Ways countless times, he couldn't resist the urge but gape at the octarine lightning that flashed past the truck, a dull, persistent crackle thrumming through the rune-sealed windows.
With one hand on the steering wheel, he reached below his seat, pulling out a clear Tupperware bin with a large cow liver inside. He squinted. Nice and smooth, looks like they'll make good time, gods willing. No more than half an hour tops.
Setting it back down, he glanced in his rearview mirror out of habit, and satisfied, turned on cruise control, leaning back in his seat. He looked over at the bodyguard, gonna be a few, might as well get to know the guy, not every day you speak with one of the Men In Black.
“Horrible weather lately, right?”
No response.
“So, uh, you've been in Texas long?”
Once again, no response. He cleared his throat.
“How long have you worked for the- do you mind if I put on music?”
You can probably guess the guard's response (or lack thereof). Ethan sucked air through his teeth as he fiddled with the radio dial, desperate to fill the silence with… something.
Static. Static. Static. Country. Static. Sta-
“-he clock up on that shining hill strikes, we'll all be piled higher than fish in a tin! Drip! Drip! Goes the Portuguese oil.”
Huh. He'd heard a lot of things on the pararadio2, but nothing like this. He turned the volume dial up, the tinny voice echoing slightly around the cabin.
“And when the smokes are all burnt up, your face like painted people on the polyethylene clamshells, march on up with Georgia's finest, fifth star on the left and right straight forward on till Tuesday. As the highway glows on, rem-” Ga-thunk.
He glanced over. “You hear that?”
“The clockwork bones of ol' Geneva are creaking and slappin' against the capillaries. You feel it? it could-” Ga-thunk. “-happen to you and you!”
The bodyguard nodded.
Ga-thunk. "And by the river sticks we lep-" The voice on the radio died with a screech.
Ga-thunk. The guard cocked the shotgun, a dark mist smelling of sulfur wafting from the barrel.
…
…
…
…
Ethan looked over. “Do you think it's saf-”
A number of things then happened in very quick succession.

First, there was two terrible ripping noises, the first like crumpling tinfoil and the second like tearing a piece of uncooked bacon.
Second, a glowing orb of light and fire engulfed his entire field of vision, his body filled with the uncanny feeling that something was staring at him.
Next, a faint ticking noise and perplexingly enough, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke.

And then there was nothing.

Next: TBA

Footnotes
1. Her words, not his.
2. Like normal radio, but anomalous. Thaumaturgists weren't particularly known for their creative naming schemes.


Bread_Tyrant

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The stone path led beneath a stone arch, adorned with the broken statue of a crow, the head of which had found itself laying in the grass three meters away. An epitaph was carved into the arch, too battered by age to make it legible. Through the arch, the path continued, progressively fussing into the grass around it, which was tall and dense from decades of growth. At the end of the field stood a large brick house which now acted as a fragment of a bygone era. Vines had staked claim to its walls, every root grinding down the stone into dust. The vines grew unnaturally, growing around the roof's edge and extending into the air. Brown murky wood had withstood the elements, although barely held up the house's frame. Even from far away, the musk of mold and rot was sensed. The roof had long given way to the house's interior with the grass surrounding the structure being littered with fallen shale tiles.
“I told you this place was pretty cool” The kid in the blue hoodie said, as he lifted the fallen crow's head, placing it into his pocket.
“I wonder why they haven't demolished this place yet, seems like it's just wasted space” Said the kid with a white jumper and joggers.
They both had been just by the arch preparing to cross it to do some exploring. The weather has kept them both inside, and now that it was a reasonable grey, silent day, they decided to take their chances. This silence was progressively getting more and more broken by a constant wind across their backs. Not wanting to wait for everything to be blown away, they swung their bags around their shoulders and walked through the arch.
And just like that there was silence again, like the force pushing on them had ceased it's impatience and now watched idly.
“Did you feel that?” Said the kid in the blue hoodie.
“Weather is weird sometimes.” The other responded.
“Maybe it's ghosts. You believe in ghosts?”
The other didn't answer, for something deep within his gut stopped his curiosity of what might be the source. Perhaps it was because they were about to enter a decrepit home.
About a couple meters from the door, both became stopped in place at the sound of creaking floor boards frantically rushing around. There was the sound of a large thud and a door swinging open so fast it shuddered the frame. The two kids entered through the front door, the handle being cold and frozen stiff. It's copper colour having become a sickly brown. The blue hoodie kid opened the door with dread and caution. The door gave way easily with little pressure, the wood being so old it was a disservice to the craftsmen and trees used to make it.
A door on the other side of the room was wide open, swinging on its hinges. Looking through the door, one of the kids caught the glimpse of some figures running past the treeline and out of sight. The wind had begun to pick up again, producing the most awful sound as it battled with the rot. On the ground was the head of that crow statue seen on the arch. The blue hoodie kid picked it up, bringing the one he found out of his pocket to compare.
“We must have spooked those guys.” One said.
“Maybe they thought we were the landowners or something.” The other responded.
The kid in the white jumper ran his hands across the wall. The white paint was stained yellow and was peeling, allowing the brick to breathe the musky air inside the interior. The wind had been growing stronger too, producing an orchestra of horrible, uneasy sounds for the ears.
The two heard a noise outside. It could've been the wind hitting the grass, but the wind had already stopped without warning. There was only silence once more, but to them it was deafening.
A distant mysterious voice broke the silence “Did you feel that?”
That sudden panic entered their blood, the kind that causes your face to redden and your skin to warm up no matter the temperature. The kind that makes your heart groan, as it pumps with adrenaline. The two began rushing to get their stuff, with the blue hoodie kid dropping the crow head he had found on the ground not realizing he still held the one he found in that house as they bolted out of the back door. They ran straight across the field towards the treeline.
One kid turned as he ran, seeing two figures standing in the room now. One wearing blue and the other, white.


We die in the dark so you may live in the light,
The losses are just another step.
Sometimes I question if this is the righteous fight,
Or is immorality another thing that must accept?
Except I don't think I'd be able to,
If it wasn't on my head.
I wish there was something I could do,
To help those who wound up dead.
For the safety of humanity,
Secure, Contain, Protect.
But for all the unnecessary casualties,
Is there nothing I can reject?
The betterment of humanity comes last,
If there truly is any.
The forgotten ones from a tragedy long past,
So will they ever treat us fairly?
Is there truly any difference,
Between them and us.
Are we people or a mere hindrance?
I'd better form a plan then.
To show those above what power we hold.
The monster and madness,
Shut behind a keyhole.
The depression and the sadness,
Soon the truth must be told.


If you are to understand Dental Assistant Luke Hamilton, you must learn two things.
The first is that the dental clinic he works at belongs to the SCP Foundation. He assists in complex dental procedures for anomalous humanoids. General check-ups are done in the humanoid's cell, to minimize time out of the cell. This is good for Luke, especially because of the second thing:
Luke is terrified of the anomalous.
It's not that the patients have done anything to him. But it's hard to keep your cool when some of your patients are people that turn into bricks, a cyborg from an alternate universe, and a literal Babylonian god. Despite Dr. Morris' assurances the patients will not rip his spine through his throat, all he thinks about is a patient ripping his spine through his throat.
Site-17A offers some form of comfort, a place of relative normalcy. Most of the time. He stays there, passes tools to the dentist as he inspects teeth, and his job is done. Nothing he hasn't accomplished in dental school.
On this particular day, Dr. Morris calls him into his office. It's never good when the head of your department calls you into his office, and this is no exception.
“Mr. Hamilton. I'd like you to accompany me to Site-17,” he says. “I have a check-up to perform, and I'd like some assistance.”
“You're joking, right?”
“I believe my distrustful relationship with jokes has been established.”
“But I'm on-site staff.”
“For now, yes. But if you want to continue to rise through the ranks, travel is part of the job.”
“But I –” Luke starts. He doesn't have a proper counter to this, so he shuts up and nods. “When do we leave?”
“We leave now,” he says. He grabs his coat and exits. Luke watches him leave, hoping he forgets he's there. Dr. Morris leans back, waves him on, and Luke follows.

Officially, the Department of Oral Hygiene is listed as Site-17A. Located just on the edge of the map, the drive from the main site to the department building takes no more than five minutes. The drive takes twenty, because most people forget where the building is, the aforementioned map cutting off the edges to save paper.
The silent driver stares ahead, no apologies or words to his passengers. Dr. Morris is silent as well, arms crossed and scowling. Luke looks around nervously, unsure if he should say something to break the silence or let it simmer.
“Do you have an issue, son?” Morris finally asks.
“What?”
“The fidgeting.”
“I guess I just have a few questions. Like, who we're going to see and all that.”
“Information about our patient is classified unless it becomes necessary.”
“Do you know who we're going to see?”
“Yes.”
“And you can't tell me?”
“No.”
“Is there anything you can tell me?”
“No,” says the driver. Luke elects to shut up again, and the rest of the drive is silent.

Not much can be said about Site-17. It is a research facility and containment site – and the construction team built it solely for that purpose, before waking up with a blank spot of the last six months and a mysterious six figure sum in each of their accounts.
Dr. Morris approaches the greeting desk and chats with the secretary. Luke hangs behind, letting his boss do the talking. He tries to find something of note in the lobby, but finds it unbearably nondescript. No indication of what he can expect.
Luke approaches the only other man in the room, a researcher staring out the window, arms in front of him.
“Uh, hello,” he says.
The researcher turns to him. It is only when Luke extends his right hand, he sees the researcher's right arm is not with him. Luke freezes, arm hanging in the air. The researcher waits for him to do something.
“You can put your arm down,” he says.
Luke drops his arm. “Sorry, I just…”
“No, no, it's fine, it happens.”
“I, um, I just got here, and I was wondering what kind of anomalies you guys have here.”
“Oh, mostly humanoids. Nothing too dangerous.”
Luke's eyes drift to the missing arm.
“Ah, that. Yeah, I made the mistake of lying in front of a truth-detecting statue head-thing and it didn't take too kindly to that.”
“Holy shit.”
“Hurt like hell. But I like to think it's made me a better person, who's kinder to people and –”
Dr. Morris approaches them, and the researcher bursts out laughing.
“Hello, Rensburg.”
“Oh, man, you're one of the dentists, aren't you? Oh, that's frickin' great! Ha!”
“If you're finished,” Morris says. “We're here on business.”
“What, did we run out of toothpaste?”
“We're here to see your charge.”
Rensburg stops laughing. He sighs. “Fine. Follow me.”
Rensburg leads them to an elevator and presses the button for the ninth floor.
“So this anomaly you're in charge of?” Luke asks. “What's it like?”
“Your boss didn't tell you?” Rensburg says. “Oh, right, you're on a need-to-know basis, aren't you? Well, I won't be the one to spoil the surprise.”
The elevator doors open, and Luke feels his stomach drop as they're led through the hall. They pass several cells with people in them. Some look human. Some don't.
“Yours is at the end of the hall here,” Rensburg says.
They approach a large metal door, two security guards posted in front. Rensburg inputs the code on a keypad.
Luke backs away as the keypad glows green. The door swings open. He braces himself. Readies to run. Rensburg and Morris enter. Luke takes a tentative step inside, and his mouth drops open.
Laying in a bed, hooked up to an EKG machine, is an unconscious child. No more than fourteen.
“Here she is,” Rensburg says. “Just as we left her.”
Morris side-eyes Rensburg a moment, then approaches the bed. He takes a seat next to her.
“Hamilton,” he says. “The tools.”
Luke shakes himself out of his daze and approaches with his own stool.
“Guard,” Rensburg says. “One of you keep an eye on the two of them. Make sure they don't wake her.”
One of the guards enters the room, his gun prominently sticking from his holster. Luke sweats, but Morris pays it no mind.
“Mirror and scraper, please,” he says. “Then hold her mouth open.”
Luke pulls them from his bag and hands them to Morris. He wears a pair of gloves and holds her mouth open, and already he can see her teeth are out of shape.
“Must have been awhile since she brushed her teeth,” Luke says partway into the procedure.
Dr. Morris grimaces. “It would appear so, yes.”
“When she wakes up, we should probably tell her that.”
The guard reaches for his gun. Luke backs away from the girl, thinking he's about to be relived of his spine. But the guard has his eyes on Luke.
“Relax, Tommy,” Dr. Morris says to him. “He doesn't know. Give me a few more minutes then grab Dr. Rensburg for me, would you?”
The guard keeps his eyes on Luke. Slowly, he switches to his walkie and radios for Rensburg. A half-hour passes, and Luke settles into a routine. It's no different than the clinic. He calms, but he can't help but wonder who the girl is.
Rensburg arrives. “All finished, Morris?”
Dr. Morris stands and cracks his back. “It's Dr. Morris.”
Dr. Rensburg rolls his eyes. “Whatever. If you're done –”
“Not quite.”
He rushes to Dr. Rensburg. The doctor backs away until he hits the wall, but Dr. Morris continues his pursuit until he is within inches of him. The guard pulls his gun.
“Your staff is focused on medical care of this girl, and you have been slacking off!”
“We haven't —!”
“Lie to me, doctor, and I'll take your other arm. We've had this child in a coma for years, and the best we can do is make sure she is taken care of. You, however, have failed to take care of her teeth, and now she has plaque build-up.”
“You're getting this worked up over a cavity?”
“Over a child's health.”
“She's an anomalous object –”
“And you're not doing the proper work. So I will tell you how to do your job. Luke, hand me the toothpaste.”
Luke looks at the guard.
“You mind?”
He holsters his gun. Luke pulls out a tube of toothpaste and hands it to Dr. Morris.
“Use this. Extra strength. Four of five of us recommend. I realize that sounds like a joke, but of the five dentists who rate this toothpaste, Taylor dissented. Make sure to floss her teeth daily, exercise her jaw. I'll be back next week to check plaque build-up. Luke, we're done here.”
Luke nods and packs up his equipment. He stares at the girl, then at the guard. He follows Dr. Morris out, making sure to avert from Rensburg's fiery stare as he squeezes the toothpaste in his fist.

When Luke enters, Dr. Morris is staring out the window, phone to his ear. He grunts intermittently, and a few minutes later he hangs up.
“Who was that?” Luke asks.
“Site Director,” Dr. Morris says.
“Not happy about today?”
“Yes and no. They transferred Rensburg again. Seems I'm not the only one who took exception to his deficiency. But he also took issue with my candor today.”
“Are you going to be alright?”
“I'm irreplaceable. Which is why I can do things like that.”
Luke nods, staring at the floor. “Can I tell you something?”
Dr. Morris groans. “Sure.”
“When I got this job, I didn't know it was about… anomalous. I still catch myself calling it supernatural, but the few things I've seen blow that description out of the water. And I'm terrified every day a patient comes in because, what if this is it? This is the one that kills me? But today we had a kid. And we've had kids before, she wasn't the first. But the stuff she was hooked up to, it wasn't to help her through her coma, it was keeping her comatose. That guard put me in more danger today than she did.”
Dr. Morris sighs. From under his desk, he pulls a clear bottle of scotch.
“You know what this is?”
“Macallan. That one should be a decade old, but it smells like it's aged two-hundred years.”
Dr. Morris nods. “You know your history.”
“I come from a long line of whiskey collectors. I'm considered the disappointment. Are we off the clock?”
“We are now,” he says, and pours two drinks. “A friend stuck this in the timecrowave and came out with the best scotch I've ever had.”
“But you can't age scotch in the bottle.”
“Unless you drop wood in the bottle. Takes a lot of wood, though.”
Dr. Morris knocks it back. Luke takes a sip.
“Seems like an unprofessional use of an anomalous object,” Luke says. “Though it's very good.”
Dr. Morris nods, and stares at his drink.
“The people that come through here, the anomalous ‘objects' in Foundation custody are human, outside of a few qualities here and there. It can be easy to forget that. Some of us certainly do.”
Dr. Morris pours another drink and knocks that back too.
“I've been laughed at and ridiculed for the past thirty years of my career, Luke. I've seen things you wouldn't believe and would make Rensburg piss himself. And my job is to care for them. Because no one else will.”
“Isn't that part of the whole Foundation mantra? Secure, contain, protect?”
“Protect what, exactly? Protect the public? The anomalies? The secrets that could fill a mass grave? Most of the ones that come here, could live a normal life otherwise. What we do to many of them is unnecessary.”
Luke's eyes widen. “I think that would be considered treason.”
Dr. Morris chuckles ruefully. “We're off the clock, aren't we?”
“You think the Foundation is bad?”
“Not entirely. Take the girl, for example. She's an unstable reality bender. Put into a coma because she couldn't be controlled. Could she have been trained, instead of having years of her life robbed? Maybe. Maybe not.
“But there's another little girl I give dental care to every so often, and her treatment makes our patient's look like a Sunday picnic. That is necessary. The world would end otherwise. I know you're scared of them, and you're right to be, but there are far scarier things at work, much more normal than you would think.”
“Why would you work here if they're so terrible, then?”
“Someone has to be there. To check their teeth and treat these people like people when no one else will. I'm not the only one. After all, most of the staff, we're only human.”
Dr. Morris looks out the window. “You should get home. It's late.”
“Right.” Luke places the empty cup on the desk. He'll take the bus home.
“See you tomorrow?”
Luke pauses at the question, understands its subtlety. He has to think it over, because he's not sure at first.
“Yes. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Luke exits the building and takes the golf cart to the bus station. He will remain a dental assistant for the things that can rip out his spine. Because, like him, they are human.


To: Dr. Vigo Wilcastle
From: Dr. Gregory Lawrence
Subject: New Theory

Dr. Wilcastle,
I believe I have come up with an important theory in this world roamed by ghosts, however I do not have high enough clearance to access the amount of information I need. I request for clearance of Foundation databases, viewing of all Department of Eidophysics documents, and permission of conducting field work. I know this is a lot to ask for, but this is big. Trust me.
Regards,
Dr. Gregory Lawrence

To: Dr. Gregory Lawrence
From: Dr. Vigo Wilcastle
Subject: Re:New Theory

Dr. Gregory Lawrence,
I am very excited to see what you have come up with. I can grant you viewing access to almost all Department of Eidophysics files and minimal access to Foundation databases, but I can not grant you permission to go out into the field. You would have to go through a long three month long process for that. Before you start researching and doing whatever you want, I would like to remind you that if you abuse any of these permissions you can be subjected to disciplinary action. I'm excited to see what you've come up with. Also, please do not call them “ghosts,” they are spectral entities.
Regards,
Dr. Vigo Wilcastle

To: Dr. Vigo Wilcastle
From: Dr. Gregory Lawrence
Subject: Re:Re:New Theory

Dr. Wilcastle,
I know you said in orientation not to mention the role of ghosts. A big reason why that is is we don't have a single team designated to actually studying ghosts, and not just the weird ones. However, I believe I have a theory as to why some people become ghosts.
Now, we know the scientific reason behind why ghosts happen; there is a clash of standard light and sound radiation in a specific ratio, speed, and time that can cause that radiation to be confined to a being. This appears to be completely random, but after some research there seems to be a pattern. I noticed that in the humanoids that became specters there was one common factor in them, which is cause of death.
The large majority of these humanoids had their lives cut short. However, I'm not talking about things like disease, starvation, or anything like that. Ghosts seem to form mostly from entities that died suddenly and/or soon before they would have. To put it simply, ghosts seem to manifest more out of people who die from murder or accidents. Reading over the files I had access to, which keep in mind I only have access to anomalous specters, I came across a child that became a ghost at the age of four. I won't mention his anomalous effects here, but I would like to mention his death. While exploring his neighborhood, he was hit by a car and died nearly instantly. That is just one of many examples.
Now, along with tragedies such as accidents, there is also murder. The specters who died of the results of homicide seem to be the most “emotional” ghosts that exist. What I mean by that is that these ghosts often are more hostile, or can be heard having emotional distress. Could be a simple coincidence, but I don't think so. Hell, this whole thing could just be a bunch of coincidences.
If you haven't gotten what I'm getting at yet, I'll just say it. Ghosts aren't random, or maybe they are, but something about the universe is making certain people ghosts more than others. It could just be some weird psychological thing, maybe a god, but something is happening. Please, think about this Vigo.
Regards,
Gregory Lawrence

Click here to reply.

Reply below.

To: Dr. Gregory Lawrence
From: Dr. Vigo Wilcastle
Subject: Re:Re:Re:New Theory

Dr. Gregory Lawrence,
When you said you might have a theory, I became very excited, but ultimately you have let me down. Your theory is pointless. Why the hell would it even matter if what you said is true? Unless it's actually relevant, don't send me an email about it. If you ever try and show me another one of your “theories,” just let me know what it's about in advance, that way I can deny any security requests you make, and at least use the correct terminology. Don't do this again Lawrence.
Regards,
Dr. Vigo Wilcastle

Send?


Foreward: The following document is a research paper about the atomic properties of spectral entities. The research was conducted by Dr. Vigo Wilcastle, head of the Department of Eidophysics. It should be noted that the process of the creation of spectral entities has been covered in a different paper, and was found to be completely non-anomalous,1 with the compound zinc oxide creating the light for the entity. The following findings were discovered via the use of atomic force microscopes and an electron microscope and were conducted on multiple anomalous spectral entities.
Findings: Subjects showed levels of oxygen atoms consistent with living humans, although many common molecular compounds that occur with oxygen atoms (such as C4H9NO3), were not found to be in the subjects. Carbon and sulfur levels were found to be lower than that of a living human, with a higher concentration of hydrogen and nitrogen taking its place. This is likely due to the fact that carbon and sulfur are typically solid, and not gaseous. However, spectral entities are not gasses but are instead a mixture of plasma and small instances of Bose-Einstein condensate.
One element that is completely missing from that of a spectral entity is phosphorus. Phosphorus makes up 1% of a human's atoms, typically helping makeup bones, teeth, and DNA. However, due to the fact that a spectral entity is truly just light and sound radiation confined to an entity, there is no need for DNA. There is no physical body that is involved, therefore there is no need for DNA.
Some people have reported seeing spectral entities phasing through walls. This process on an atomic level is key to understanding this. Spectral entities do not truly phase through walls, the light radiation comes in contact with something keeping it from its light source, which makes it disappear. This gives the visual effect of phasing, but without the actual properties. This process also seems to cause spectral entities pain. However, when subjects were instructed to go through standard walls, they could appear on the other side at a rate of roughly two hours per three centimeters. On an atomic level, subjects' atoms and mega-atoms2 seem to be able to slowly dodge other atoms. When subjects were questioned about this, they reported that it felt like they had to move every single part of their body very specifically one centimeter at a time.
More testing found that the denser the material, the longer it takes for a spectral entity to phase through it, and the more physical distress it causes, however, the densest element spectral entities can phase through is bismuth. Anything after that cannot be phased through. This is likely due to the fact that because the atoms are denser, it is harder to avoid atoms, which is necessary for the atoms to remain completely intact.3
The pain subjects felt was linked to the loss of electrons in zinc oxide. These electrons seemed to be picked up by nearby atoms, though they very rarely go to other zinc oxide molecules. This is due to the fact that zinc bonds with oxygen in order to create a more stable valence electron shell, so the valence shells of other zinc oxide atoms would be complete. The zinc oxide atoms lose some electrons by other atoms with a strong pull towards other electrons. This naturally causes the zinc oxide to become less stable and starts to have some of its electrons be lost.
Conclusion: Spectral entities may have a different atomic structure than their alive counterparts, but the atoms lost would have served no purpose in the subjects. Additionally, similar to how living humans can control muscles, spectral entities seem to have an ability to control specific atoms. The largest differences in the spectral entities from their alive counterpart are the entire lack of phosphorus and the bond of zinc and oxygen.
Further Research: I, Dr. Vigo Wilcastle, think the following points should be researched on their own:
• The specific chemical makeup of spectral entities
• What happens when a chemical reaction occurs with an atom from a spectral entity
• Bose-Einstein condensate and where its low temperature comes from.

This experiment was conducted by Dr. Vigo Wilcastle and Dr. David Lamb on the behalf of the Department of Eidophysics. This summary was written by Dr. Vigo Wilcastle.
Secure. Contain. Protect.

Footnotes
1. See research paper “The Creation of Spectral Entities on an Atomic Level” by Dr. Vigo Wilcastle
2. Term for atoms affected by the Bose-Einstein condensate
3. Should two atoms hit each other, a chemical bond or nuclear fission could occur, causing the atom to not be apart of the spectral entity anymore