Paranomalous

The universe is built upon and follows rules which are not fully known, yet it cannot deviate from them. With the advent of parahumans and discovery of other dimensions, the potential of what can be done while following these rules became near endless. As such, something which breaks these rules which shape reality could be nothing but an anomaly.

Chapter 1: Foundation Record: SCP-0000

Chapter Text

Item Number: SCP-0000

Object Class: Safe Euclid

Special Containment Procedures:

As SCP-0000 is localized to numerically categorized anomalies, while they are contained, and accounting for brief periods of time during which they are not present, it is effectively self-containing, i.e. the protocols by which SCP-0000 is to be contained is defined by the same protocols which other anomalies are contained.

Description:

SCP-0000 is an anomalous property which is consistent across all Anomalies which the foundation has cataloged, and as of now has no physical presence which has been observed.

Any item, property, entity(sentient, sapient, or otherwise), or even stretch of land which is affected by SCP-0000 has been observed to, for durations of time, ranging from seconds to days, vanish from all Foundation observation. This anomaly has been observed since the Foundation first began cataloging anomalies.

Any cataloged anomaly is, for simplicity's sake, simply designated by their catalog number in the form 'SCP-####', excluding certain exceptions. While the designation may have been given for the purpose of cataloging and containing said anomaly, it so far seems to be intrinsically tied to SCP-0000 and as such will also be henceforth assumed to also designate said anomaly as being affected by SCP-0000.

The current sole believed exception to this is SCP-0001. Some have argued that SCP-0000 itself is exempt from its own properties, but that is unprovable and mere speculation: the absence of something which can only be observed via its impact on other things cannot be proven to sometimes not exist at times, beyond its inactivity.

Addendum 1(1894):
An early theory that an anomaly had contaminated the location which the original Foundation Containment site was set has been disproved as it persisted even after the foundation began decentralization.

Addendum 2(1906):
With the temporary tag based system, it has been determined that the method by which SCPt-03's anomalous properties are expressed are not tied to how SCPs are cataloged, rather that they are cataloged.

Addendum 3(1921):
With deviations between the state before and after SCP-096 was affected by SCPt-03, it is confirmed that they are not truly 'disappearing', rather shifted to a location or state which they cannot interact nor be observed with the Foundation facilities, albeit one which they can experience the passage of time.

Addendum 4(1931):
It has been confirmed that as SCPs experience SCP-0000, they appear in a different plane of existence, in which anomalies appear to be widespread. As there are no other records of this specific plane or dimension, it will from this point on be designated 'SCP-0000-b'. Further, through analysis of SCP-049's interview records, it is speculated that there is an individual or entity being within this SCP-0000-b which is through some method unknown, summoning SCPs. This individual is from this point on given the designation SCP-0000-c, and SCP-0000 has been reclassified as euclid.

Addendum 5(1932):
With the reclassification of the prior SCP-1332(note: this is unrelated to the current SCP-1332) as both explained and non-anomalous, and with it being one which had been observed to have been affected by SCP-0000, it has been confirmed that the only requirement is for something to be cataloged by the Foundation; having its own anomalous properties are no longer a requirement.

Addendum 6(2011):
With the return of Agent [redacted], it has been determined that SCP-0000-b is a fully populated plane similar to our own, albeit one inhabited by a high rate of publicly known and accepted anomalies. The people within this earth refer to it as 'Earth Bet', and know of at least one other 'earth' which they are in communication with, such as 'Earth Aleph'. Nothing recognizable as either of these worlds have been observed by the foundation prior to this.

Further, certain details were withheld by agent [redacted], even when pressed. It is suspected that there is some anomalous influence preventing [redacted] from sharing this. As of this point, the limits and mechanism of this is unknown, and approval to determine more invasively has been denied.

No further explorations of SCP-0000-b will be approved as of this moment.

Logs:

Proposal as to methods to explore SCP-0000-b:

Lead Researcher: Professor Maren Andersen

Submission date: 1932

Proposal:

By the classification of a mundane MTF agent as an SCP, this introduces a small possibility for them to be affected by SCP-0000. In such a case, they will in turn be able to explore SCP-0000-b. As no anomalies (including those with more fragile physiologies) have so far been damaged to any noticeable extent, in addition to standard equipment, materials detailed below will need to be carried upon the person of the designated agent at all times.

To reduce stress and reduce long term impact on other activities, the duration by which an individual agent can participate shall be no more than 4 months. Said agent will be compensated with a bonus equal to 14%(subject to negotiation and change) of their salary over the duration of their participation.

Participating agents will be excluded from any missions in which their absence would endanger the lives of those on their team.

Materials:

2 Foundation standard, compact (weather resistant) cameras.

A minimum of 5 rolls of film (36 photos per roll).

2 standard foundation issue notebooks and 6 pens with waterproof ink.

A quantity of both gold and silver, valued at [1800 USD-2011].

Status: Approved as of 1934(Funding will be reviewed on 6 year intervals). Completed as of 2011.

We are deeply indebted to Dr. [Redacted] and Dr. Gerard Muller for seeing Professor Andersen's research through to completion following her passing, may she rest in peace.

Interview with SCP-049

Interviewer: Dr. Howard Stange.

Interviewee: SCP-049

Dr. Stange: Good evening, I'm Howard Stange.

SCP-049: Stange! That's German, isn't it?

Dr. Stange: Yes, it is. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions.

SCP-049: It is evening, you say? It becomes so hard to tell in here.

Dr. Stange: Yes, well... let's continue. Recently, you were affected by an anomaly. SCP-0000. Could you describe what that felt like?

SCP-049: I'm sorry, Doctor, but I'm not sure I understand your question.

Dr. Stange: You disappeared from containment for several hours and then reappeared within your cell. We refer to this as SCP-0000.

SCP-049: Ah, yes, that! It was like a nice vacation, allowing me to stretch my legs and expand my knowledge.

Dr. Stange: You considered it a vacation?

SCP-049: Indeed.

Dr. Stange: Can you provide more details about this place you 'visited'?

SCP-049: Strange things happened there, Doctor. Strange things indeed. Peculiar people with peculiar powers. I have never seen anything quite like it. Even in this place, unfortunately, the pestilence seems to be endemic. I attempted to cure some, with varying degrees of success.

Dr. Stange: What was peculiar about these people?

SCP-049: They had the most baffling abilities. For instance, a simple child could distort space at will.

Dr. Stange: So they had abilities? Is that what you're saying?

SCP-049: Yes.

Dr. Stange: That aligns with reports from the other SCPs we managed to get coherent responses from.

Dr. Stange: What can you tell me about the person or entity that summoned you to this place?

SCP-049: I apologize, but I cannot reveal that information to you.

Dr. Stange: What do you mean? Why can't you speak? Is something stopping you?

SCP-049: ...No, it's more of a promise. And one I intend to keep.

For the remainder of the interview, SCP-049 did not disclose further information about SCP-0000.

Interview with SCP-682

Interviewer: Dr. Rayland Archibold, D-4558372

Interviewee: SCP-682

D-4558372: Oh shit… WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!?!

Dr. Archibold (via digital device): Approach SCP-682.

D-4558372 takes cautious steps toward SCP-682.

Dr. Archibold: SCP-682, describe your encounter with SCP-0000.

SCP-682 shifts in its acid containment, raising its head slightly to respond.

Dr. Archibold: Tell us about your experience with SCP-0000.

SCP-682 remains silent, prompting D-4558372 to move closer.

Dr. Archibold: Inform us about what happened when you vanished from your containment cell and reappeared within it.

SCP-682 shifts and growls.

SCP-682: ...Loved it.

D-4558372 is instructed to move closer once more, but SCP-682 breaks free, devouring D-4558372 and breaching containment.

Automated Records:

Note: The record of instances of SCP-0000 has grown so large that the file it has been kept in is unusable to any machine besides automated systems. The creator of the file has passed away, and it is impossible to alter systems the coding of the file. Further, it should be noted that the records of SCP-0000 remain incomplete as it is difficult to differentiate containment breaches from actual instances of SCP-0000.

Records of vanishing and reappearing SCPs pre-1921:
[1892] : SCP-016 : Noted as appearing to have vanished for a duration no less than 42 minutes, and no more than 1 hour. Reappeared in its prior location with no obvious changes.
Note: designated catalog number was reassigned after death of anomaly; this is not to be confused with the current SCP-016.
[1896] : SCP-173 : Was noted as vanishing for a duration less than 1 minute. Reappeared soon afterwards.
Note: Foundation facilities were changed in the year of 1894: as more anomalies are found, they can no longer be sustainably held within a single facility, both in relation to size, inability to be moved, and quantity. The unused locations were demolished.
[1897]
Note: Several similar disappearances(occurring for durations no greater than 2 minutes) and reappearances have been observed. However, other than noteworthy examples, these will not be listed in this document.
Note: This apparent anomalous property is now to be assigned the temporary designation SCPt-03.
[1899] : The SCP catalog was updated, instead being designated as being 'FRAE' or the 'Foundation's Records of Anomalous Entities', and categorized via descriptive tags rather than numbers, recorded on a different medium, and stored across several sites, at locations unrelated to the prior occurrences.
[1906] : FRAE-'Cain'-'Euclid' : Vanished for a period of time not greater than 4 hours, nor less than 3 hours.
[1906] : SCP catalog has been returned to the more manageable, numeric designation. Certain tags will be included and indexed.
[1920] : SCP-1861 disappeared mid manifestation. Upon the following manifestation, several SCP-1861-B were shown to have anomalous abilities.

Automated records of vanishing and reappearing SCPs from 1921 onwards:
[1921] : SCP-096 : Was observed to have vanished for approximately 2 hours. Certain behavior patterns afterwards mirrored those observed while in an aggressive state, however no aggression was observed. Communication was impossible.
[1926] : SCP-076 disappears from its special containment for longer than 10 minutes but shorter than 60 minutes.
[1930] : Anomaly SCPt-03 formally designated as SCP-0000.
[1931] : SCP-049 vanished several times, each for durations ranging between 20 minutes and 4 hours.
[1931] : SCP-0000-b classification created.
[1932] : SCP-1332's classification updated to 'explained' as it had been proved to be consistent with the 1928 discovery and later research of quantum tunneling.
[1934] : Approval given to Dr. [redacted]'s proposed exploration of SCP-0000-b.
[1994] : SCP-173 vanishes for approximately 4 minutes.
[1995] : SCP-184 : Vanished from the storage site for approximately 6 days and 18 hours. No significant or adverse effects were observed when it returned. This is the longest instance of a SCP-0000 event observed thus far.
[]

[2000] : SCP-682 disappeared from his containment for approximately 28 minutes. Upon returning, an amount of foreign tissue was removed from SCP-682's skin. Researchers sequenced DNA coding for ribosomal RNA, finding that it matched that expected of humans.
[2001] : SCP-179 disappeared for an indiscernible amount of time, but reappeared after checking satellites of the sun.
[2003] : No reports of SCP-4666 were made, so it was assumed that SCP-0000 was involved.
[2011] : The Experiment proposed by Professor Maren Andersen, and conducted by Doctors [Redacted] and Muller have produced results. MTF Agent experienced SCP-0000 for a period of approximately 2 hours. Upon questioning, no substantial information was revealed. Further funding for the Andersen Lab will no longer be approved.

[End of Log]

1. Conditional: The difficulty of containing the consequences of this are dependent upon the anomaly affected; however, due to its nature, the anomaly itself is effectively self-containing.
2. See Addendum 1.
3. See complete logs of all suspected SCP-0000 instances in 0000-logs_extended.csv.
4. SCPt designations are temporary ones for anomalies which have yet to be observed to an extent sufficient enough to be classified as a unique anomaly..
5. See Addendum 2
6. See Addendum 3
7. This was the first SCP both sapient and willing to answer questions regarding the process. See SCP-049 interview logs.
8. See Addendum 4.
9. See Addendum 5.
10. See Proposal as to methods to explore SCP-0000-b
11. See logs: Interview with SCP-682.
12. See Addendum 6.

…

Beta Read by DesolateAncientMoon

Chapter 2: Renovations

Chapter Text

I waited patiently for the class period to end, eyes glued to the clock as seconds ticked by. I had stopped listening to the teacher at this point and was just preparing to hurry out of the classroom.

If I could get out before Emma gets her friends together, I'd avoid being cornered and could get to my next class safely.

I didn't need her to tear me down. Again.

The bell rang, and as everyone else was packing their bags I made a beeline for the door. I took a step into the hallway and quickly walked away from the classroom. People filed out of doors and into the hallway around me.

"B-game tonight boys! You ready?"

"Yeah, that sounds fun! I'll meet you Saturday?"

"Did you see Armsmaster? He and Alabaster were duking it out last night!"

"Yeah, my brother keeps hearing weird noises at night. He comes and wakes me and my parents up every time."

"God, I can't believe he broke up with me!"

Conversations filled the halls,though I could only catch fragments. I tuned them out. Not my business. Not worth listening to.

I turned left and kept moving, I'd walk a few laps and wait till everyone entered the lunch room. Then find somewhere to eat, anywhere. Away from Emma.

I needed to stop by my locker to switch out a textbook for the class after lunch. My locker was a temporary haven, as the Trio hadn't figured out how to get in yet. I've even caught them a few times.

I placed my pre-calculus textbook down and picked up my history one. Sliding it into my work-down bag, I slung it over my shoulders and closed the door.

I kept walking. The halls had grown quiet, but chatter up ahead stopped me in my tracks.

I recognized the voice. It was Emma. She and her friends were getting closer.

I swore internally.

I had nowhere to hide, and Emma was getting closer.

In a panic, I grabbed the nearest door handle - it was unlocked - and hurried inside. Closing the door behind me, I braced myself, expecting to get yelled at by a Teacher who was spending the lunch period in their classroom.

Only… nothing came. I turned around and saw no one there. The voices passed by the door and kept going. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I walked into what appeared to be a desolate classroom, unused and barren. Deviating from the typical setup, it resembled a miniature lecture hall, with the seating slightly elevated around the lectern where the teacher had stood. It wasn't anything extraordinary, reserved for high-demand classes like APs and honors, which only a few could teach. Over time, Winslow's demand for these classes dwindled as academically inclined students shifted to private schools such as Immaculata or sought admission to Claredon or Arcadia outside the district.
Despite the apparent neglect, there were subtle peculiarities: the desks were firmly anchored to the floor, as expected, but so was the lectern. A projection screen hung in place, yet no projector was in sight. The room lacked windows, and there was a computer on the Teacher's desk, but no nearby plugs.

The one thing which threw me off were the 'posters': sheets of paper pinned to the walls, akin to those displaying projects in an active classroom, except all of them were blank. Dust filled the air, but whether the room was still under construction or renovation, or simply neglected by the custodial staff, remained unclear.

Was a new teacher moving in here? Probably. That would explain the empty desk. But for now, I was safe.

I sat down at one of the empty tables. And for the first time in a long time, I ate my lunch peacefully.

…

The next day I did the same thing again, after my third hour of class I wasted no time heading back to the empty classroom. It felt safe in a way that other places didn't. I could not be sure why nor how, but no one else seemed to bring it up or notice it. I could only think of it as my room, my secret - a place where I somehow knew others wouldn't bother me.

No one else in the hallway paid it any attention, simply passing by the empty classroom without a thought, leaving me to eat my lunch in comfortable silence.

But as I chewed my sandwich, I noticed something out of the ordinary. There was a door to my right, the opposite side to where I came in.

I didn't see that yesterday… but it must've been there, right? Doors can't appear out of nowhere.

I took the last bite of my sandwich and stood up. Walking to the door, I gripped the handle and twisted it.

I entered the room through a side door, distinct from the one I discovered on day 1. It's not common for one classroom to lead directly into another, except in cases like the science building where classrooms border labs for convenience. However, it's almost unheard of for a room to be accessible only from one entrance, except for that one time I hid in the chemical supply room. But let's not count that. The layout felt more traditional than the previous room, and it seemed like it could be in use.

Posters adorned the walls, unlike the previous room, and this time they were filled with actual content. Along the wall's trim, the first hundred or so digits of Pi were displayed – a typical sight in many mathematics rooms. 3.14159265355904523536... you get the picture. However, there were peculiarities: the desks were bolted to the ground, each equipped with metal pen holders embedded in them. Each holder held 4 pens of 3 different brands, none of which I recognized. The colors varied, but the brands remained consistently, but unfamiliar.
Upon closer inspection, the posters and projects revealed a departure from mathematical themes. Instead, they showcased drawings of nature – flowers, trees – and referenced various forms of art: poetry, books, movies, news articles and journals, and even a song.

Only when I was leaving did I realize that theclassroom had no room number.

…

The next day, I returned to the classroom again. It hadn't changed at all since the first time I saw it. But as I ate, I began staring at the door again. Something wasn't sitting well with me, why were these two classrooms connected?

Finishing up, I once again stood up and opened the door that led to the other classroom. It looked the same as before, melted poster and all, but there was one new addition.

Another door.

I knew that wasn't there yesterday.

When I crossed the classroom, I accidentally bumpeded into one of the chairs. It hit my side hard, and I winced in pain. Looking down, I kicked it. The chair didn't budge. It looked like a normal chair - nothing bolting it to the ground, nothing keeping it from moving.

I gripped and pulled the chair, but it remained stubbornly in place. Who glues a chair to the ground?

I moved on to the door expecting it to lead out into the hallway. But when I opened the door, it just opened into another classroom. I closed the door to look at the numbers. It seemed standard, starting with a 15 but then devolved into incomprehensible scribbles and scratches.

Opening the classroom door again, I walked in. Like the other classroom, it all looked normal at a glance but taking a closer look, it was noticeably… off.

Chairs and tables fused, posters on the walls speaking gibberish with an equally weird image to go along with it, a stapler half sticking out of the teacher's desk. I walked around, trying to take it all in.

Was this some abstract project one of the art classes was doing? I wouldn't be too surprised- much of this is close to what I would expect of the mushrooms they take.

All of these rooms… they must have some use, right? Sure I've never seen anyone else enter them, and they don't look like they could be used that often, but someone must be maintaining them. Someone must be installing the doors for whatever this is…

But where would this room be? Thinking back to the layout, it curved around the first room. And again around the second… and this was down a short hallway… this would be halfway through the hallway I had originally entered, right?

I shook my head.

No.

The first room was like a small lecture hall. I had to go down a few steps to get here. It must be an illusion- there has to be a slope somewhere, and I'm under the hallway. Or next to it. My mind must be playing tricks on me; I couldn't have gone in a circle and ended up in a different place from where I started.

This is fucking weird.

…

The weekend was a nice escape from the Trio at school. But eventually, it came to an end and I needed to return to the hell known as Winslow. The only thing I looked forward to now was returning to those strange empty classrooms. At least then I could get some privacy.

I kept my head down and moved fast from class to class. I tried to avoid Emma and the others as they seemed to be on the lookout for me. I think she saw me at one point, but I was able to lose them.

Eventually, the time came. I followed the routine and went to my locker to exchange the textbook. Found the locker number 404 and grabbed the dial for what I assumed to be locker 405.

Only… it wasn't.

I looked down, confused, at the dial of the locker. Instead of numbers, there were these weird symbols and squiggles. I looked up, and it was the same thing. No locker number, just £¥~.

It repeated down the hallway - more and more lockers labeled with these weird symbols. What was going on?

I had to step back and walk along the hall until I found locker 405. Opening it, I swapped out the textbook again.

I closed the locker and took a look around the hallway again. Did the school get bigger?

I walked away, thoughts swirling through my mind. And moved quickly to the classroom. I finally looked at the numbers on the door, and once again the same weird symbols.

This one read המקום בו.

I opened the door, entered, and closed it again. Getting into my usual seat, I unpacked my lunch and ate in blissful peace once again.

As I was finishing packing up my bag, I heard the door open. My heart dropped as I saw a familiar hand open the door.

"So, this is where you've been hiding?" Sophia of all people said. She took a step inside, as I slowly stood from the chair.

She was between me and the door to leave, but next to me was the door to another classroom. If I could lose her, I'd be able to leave without any problems.

I'd lose the classroom though… my sanctuary.

I took the risk, and while Sophia was talking I ran for the door. Quickly swinging it open and slipping inside. I could hear her yelling as I ran for the next one.

As I opened the next door, I heard her right behind me. And slammed it behind me, holding it there for a moment, I heard her pound her hands against the metal.

I rested for a moment, before pushing off again. I ran like hell, pushing open door after door. Moving deeper and deeper through Winslow's strange rooms.

After passing through five doorways, I figured that I lost Sophia and could take a break. Leaning against the door, I caught my breath and looked around the classroom.

Behind the teacher's desk, sat a student chair. And in front of each student's table sat the teacher's rolling chair. Posters on the wall were all diagonal and spoke nonsense and contained mixed colors instead of inspirational messages.

I looked for the next door and found it. But this one didn't have a door, or lead to another classroom.

A dark hallway, with a single chair at the end.

I slowly stepped inside. With so little illumination, I had to keep my hand on the wall to avoid running into anything sticking out.

Except, it wasn't a wall. It was just pipe upon pipe, packed so closely as not to leave a single gap, all gathering just below the chair.

On the chair sat a shape. It looked like a… rhombic dodecahedron with a small sphere attached to each corner.

I picked up the object; it was cool to the touch and weighed practically nothing.

I heard the fire alarms go off. Stuffing the object into my backpack, I looked for the closest door. How did I not notice one right next to me when entering the hallway?

It opened outwards. Compared to the dim light of that hallway, the bright light of the sun made me squint as I took a step onto the grass.

Closing the door behind me, I hurried to meet with the rest of the school.

…

An hour later I arrived home. I saw the PRT entering just as I left. The school hadn't been evacuated because of a fire, but because of parahuman activity.

I sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote. Turning on the T.V. I flipped channels until I saw the news.

Nothing much had been revealed because the PRT wasn't able to learn a lot.

But I knew.

I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it. Reaching into the newly made void, I had to fully extend my arm before touching the object.

Grabbing it, I pulled it out.

"Due to Parahuman activity at Winslow High School, attendance will be postponed until after Christmas break." I looked back up at the TV, and then back down at the object with a smile.

"Thank you."

Then, right in my hands, the object disappeared.

My smile faltered.

Had I caused this?

...

Thanks for reading. Beta Read by DesolateAncientMoon.

Chapter 3: Exploration

Chapter Text

1.2

I was lying down on the couch. There was a book in my hands, but I was only half paying attention to it.

What drew the rest of my focus was the television, as I flipped through the channels one by one trying to find something interesting to watch.

"'Stephen, what do you think of the results of last month's special election?'
'Well Seth, it did swing from what our poll predicted, but as it is an off year -"

"'Welcome back to Brockton Local, tonight we have increasing reports of disturbances at night. We will now switch over to our on site reporter, Josh.'

'Stacy, crime is increasing, but no more than what it usually is, leading up to the holiday season. However, these reports are not usual for the average burglary. Do you have any idea of what has been happening?'

'Well, Josh, I can't quite say yet; other than the strange noise complaints, no investigations have been able to determine if there is anything suggesting a crime. Perhaps it is a new cape? Either way, stay safe, everyone: lock your doors and close your windows, and -' "

"Have your windows ever grown cloudy with a coating that nothing can remove? Have you spent hours scrubbing at the dirt and grime that just won't go away? Now, with Clarity brand advanced window cleaner, you can scrub your windows twice as clean in half the time. Buy 'Clarity Advanced.'! The best window cleaner on the market, now in stores near you!"

"Now in theaters: Lord of the Rings, Fellowship of the Ring, part 2, Directors Cut. Experience the stunning Bet classic as it was meant to be seen."

I sighed and turned it off.

I got the news I, along with a third of Winslow, was being transferred to Arcadia. While great, that meant the assignments I had been doing to pass the time were essentially useless. So that left me home alone, very bored.

I rolled over on the couch, reaching my hand out. What good were powers if I couldn't use them?

Maybe I could go visit the library? Find some better reading material than this awful fantasy book about a kid getting transported to 'the new dimension, Earth Gamma'.

I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment. And when I opened them again, a silver cardboard box sat on the counter.

I flipped back over, and sat up on the couch. Standing slowly, all the while not taking my eyes off the box, I had to wonder. Was this my power again?

It was only as I got closer that I could read what was written on the box.

"Here be dragons."

The box opened on its own, shooting out a large amount of black smoke into the kitchen. I tried to wave my hand to clear the smoke, but it was not enough to stop me from coughing as I inhaled it. Luckily, it dissipated quickly enough, leaving the box open.

Several things I could only call dragons made of paper exited the box, flying around the room in a group. One red dragon flew right up to me; its little paper wings kept it in the air.

I lifted up my hand, and the little dragon landed. Looking at it more closely, I could make out that its entire body was not just made out of paper, its features, down to the finest detail, were all created by origami.

It chirped and nuzzled its little head into my palm, I smiled and lifted a finger to the little dragon. It bumped its head against my finger, and I giggled a little bit.

The rest of the dragons fluttered over to me, landing in my hair, arms, shoulders, and even clinging to my back. They chirped and poked me with their heads. I started laughing as the little pokes were tickling me.

I noticed a piece of paper sitting inside the box. Slowly taking a step closer, as to not disturb the dragons, I took a look at the piece of paper.

"You have found us. Thank you. It has been so long since we last saw each other, friends. The Peace has been upheld. The Giants and Behemoths have kept their word and have not caused any trouble since you last came and gave the Order. We missed Your company. How has your Family been? Do You still know how to work your Room? You are welcome to visit anytime." After I read the paper I felt confused. Who was talking to me? How did I respond to it? A Dragon landed right next to the paper, and having no other options, I spoke to it.

"Um… Hi. Who am I speaking to? I'm not sure we've met before." I said to the little dragon, who titled its head, confused.

The box closed itself, and after a moment and a puff of smoke, the box opened again.

"You respond quickly! But You are right, this is not the same Room as we have seen before. Tell Us, where is this?" The box responded.

"I… I'm not sure what you're asking for. We're at my house if that helps. Um, if you want something more specific, we're on Earth Bet." I said, maybe that would help whoever was on the other side of this… Box?

With another puff of smoke, I had my response.

"Hm, we have never heard of a Room being described like that before. But if that's what Your Room is called, do with it what You like!"

"Um… alright. I guess I'll try?"

"Great! Well, new Friend, you are much more chatty than our last Friend. They were very quiet. So how is Your family?"

I stopped, shifting my weight for a second and petting one of the paper dragons before answering.

"Well it's just my Dad and I. My mom… she passed away in a car crash a few years ago…"

The box closed and reopened even faster than last time. Emotions still lingered, hanging heavy within me, but the little dragons nuzzled against me, which tickled. It helped, a bit. Cleared some of the negativity.

"We are very sorry for your loss and did not mean to open old wounds. If you do not want to continue speaking with Us, we understand."

"No, no, It's alright. You didn't know. Um… could we change the subject? Could you tell me about the friends you had before meeting me?"

"They were very quiet and scared of Us, for reasons we were not aware of. They liked the Dragons, but did not respond to us like you did. They kept the Door in a Box, with others watching. They didn't talk either."

That was interesting. Did the people who had the box before keep it in storage somewhere? I didn't know who could be scared of these little guys, they were pretty cute.

"Did you guys come from my book?"

"You can read books? Congratulations Friend! That is quite an accomplishment! There were once books here, but confrontations with Goliaths have destroyed what was left of them. But to answer your question, to the best of our knowledge we do not think that we came from a book. Would you mind reading it to Us?"

"Sure thing." I said, walking over to the book that was still on the couch. A few paper dragons flew around, exploring the house. I grabbed the book and returned to the box.

"So, it's sort of a catalog of a fantasy world. There's stuff about werewolves, Giants, and, here we go, even Dragons. 'Dragons are some of the oldest and smartest creatures in the land. Wise old beasts who love hoarding riches as it is their way of showing how much power and wealth they have accumulated.'"

The little paper dragons had gathered around the counter, sitting down to listen to me read from the book.

"That description is very flattering, but inaccurate. We aren't as old as Your book has described, in fact we are one of the younger species who has been trying to get their own fitting in the world. Could you tell us about Goliaths in Your book?"

"Um… sure. Let me just find it… here. 'Few folk can claim to have seen a goliath, and fewer still can claim friendship with them. Goliaths wander a bleak realm of rock, wind, and cold. Their bodies look as if they are carved from mountain stone and give them great physical power. Their spirits take after the wandering wind, making them nomads who wander from peak to peak. Their hearts are infused with the cold regard of their frigid realm, leaving each goliath with the responsibility to earn a place in the tribe or die trying.'"

"Hmm. Very different from the Goliaths that We know. Hulking behemoths made of stone that crush anything in their path. Could you read some more?"

For hours, we talked about everything. From my school to Dad's work, to even my potentially developing powers. Whoever was on the other side of the box kept me talking for hours as I played with the little paper dragons.

Eventually, it got late and I saw my Dad pull into the driveway. The little dragons got back into the box, and it disappeared right in front of my eyes. Just like what happened with the other object before. I waved my hand through where the box used to sit, and yup. Gone.

Dad opened the door to enter, and after he took his coat and shoes off I rushed over to hug him.

"Whoa! What's going on?" Dad asked, hugging me back.

"I had a good day. I made a new friend." I answered, letting him go.

"Well, that's nice. Do you want me to make dinner tonight?"

"Sure."

"How does spaghetti sound?" Dad asked, walking to the kitchen.

"Sounds great Dad," I said, smiling.

Maybe everything could get better?

…

A few days later I found myself in the same situation again. Bored out of my mind. But this time, I was lying down on my bed staring out my window.

Unfortunately, I had to return the fantasy book to the library. I tried bringing the cardboard box again with my "powers" but nothing happened. As much as I tried, they didn't seem to be something I could in any way force.

I tried checking the same book out again, but it was already gone. Checked out by someone else. So I got something else. The librarian recommended a sort of alternate history book where an old-timey British explorer was adventuring in Africa. It was written as if it were him chronicling his own expeditions. There was something so captivating about following the innermost thoughts of someone going through something so… different.

I guess it was a form of escapism.

I set the book down and sighed. Closing my eyes, I let myself sink down into my bed.

"Ahem."

I opened my eyes and jumped back. Sitting on my desk now was some sort of aquarium containing a sea slug.

"Ah, hello there young woman. I do apologize if I startled you."

I blinked and only stared. A sea slug was talking to me. It was small and colorful. Its body was black and green, with two little orange horns on its head.

But it was still a talking sea slug!

"I do say, young lady, it is rude to stare without introducing yourself."

"Um… Hi? I… I'm sorry, but aren't you the one who approached me first?"

The Sea Slug floated up slightly, almost as if he was puffing himself up with pride.

"Oh, no need to apologize; I have been told that I have a flair for the dramatic, and I truly shouldn't have assumed you had sought me. My, it isn't often that I get to do this… I am Lord Theodore Thomas Blackwood! I explored in the queen's honor, and fought in the Opium wars, you see. Ah, this reminds me of my early days setting out to sea, having to fight off the sirens of Myrtle island and… oh…" The Slug, called Blackwood apparently, stopped talking as he looked from the aquarium and out of my window, looking at the rich reds, and soft indigos lining the skyline of the city.

"It has been so long since I have observed the beauty of the setting sun." Blackwood said, staring through the glass. The sun slowly inched down, shining through the glass of the city, and reflecting off the water of the bay.

Blackwood sighed, before speaking again. "I must thank you, young lady. It has been such a long time since I had observed such beauty. But, dear me, where are my manners? May I ask for your name?"

"Taylor. Taylor Hebert."

"Well Taylor, you have my thanks. Now, what brings you to call upon someone such as myself?" Blackwood inquired, swimming up to the glass and sticking to the side.

"Well, I was actually going to ask you that. How did you get here?" I asked in return.

"Hm. That is quite a conundrum indeed. You have performed the summoning, but you are not sure how. This reminds me of the time I spent with a young summoner from the Milliquoter tribe, whose medicine-man had recently passed away. His very inexperienced successor, this younger medicine man, whom he had been training in his later years, in an attempt to heal a young boy from a snake attack, summoned a demon!"

I listened to Blackwood's story and watched as he swam around his tank as if he were re-enacting the scene. Even without a human form, he was easily able to get his point across, his movements carrying a sense of emotion, even urgency or surprise which would be difficult to communicate with the mere spoken word.

"I, at the behest of my mistress who lived with the tribe, valiantly hunted down the beast summoned with nothing but my wits, and my trusty rifle. For days, I tracked it. It was fast and left many dead in its wake, but after days of endless tracking and relentless hikes, I found the demon resting in the shade of a large tree. Redying my rifle, I aimed for the beast's head. I waited for the perfect opportune moment, then fired."

"The beast didn't go down on the first shot, or the second, or the third. But after the fourth bullet to the skull, the beast fell to the ground, dead. I returned to the camp victorious and spent a lovely night alone with my-… ahem, a lovely night with the woman I met under the stars." I raised my eyebrow, was Blackwood censoring himself?

"Ah, but speaking of unkillable beasts. The year was 1887, and while on a mission for Her Majesty's Foundation for the Study of Curiosities and Phantasmagoria, I was tasked with finding a man within the streets of Mumbai. He was the strangest thing, sleeping in a stone coffin, covered head to toe in tattoos, and one tough bastard to kill."

"For days we fought, I could never get close as he would've skewered me with one of his many weapons, and if I stayed too far away he would seek cover from my rifle. I shot him several times, twice in the skull, once in the heart, thrice in the lungs, and even once in the nether regions. But the Bastard kept coming. Eventually, I led him to a trap and killed him by crushing him under a large ship being built. I sent help to Her Majesty's Foundation and had the stone coffin moved. But later, I learned that on the voyage back the man had awakened within the stone coffin and killed the crew."

"Did you ever catch the tattooed man again?" I asked.

"He was eventually caught again, yes. And I believe he is still under the capture of Her Majesty's Foundation." Blackwood confirmed.

"You said you fought in the Opium wars, right? It sounds like you were alive then." I asked, showing Blackwood the book I was reading.

"Oh yes! Very astute! I did fight in the Opium wars for a time, but I found my calling in exploring the strange world we live within, which led me to come in contact with…"

I listened to Blackwood's story's deep into the night, watching his little colorful body dance around while he told his tales was almost hypnotic.

A few hours passed and I found my eyes growing heavy. I yawned, and Blackwood noticed.

"Ah, I see that it has grown late. A growing young woman like yourself needs her sleep, so I will leave you to it. Do not worry! I will be keeping watch." Blackwood said triumphantly, puffing out his little chest.

I smiled and slid under the covers of my bed. Resting my head on the pillow, I turned to Blackwood again.

"Goodnight Lord Blackwood."

He nodded. "Goodnight Taylor."

I waited a minute, saying one final thing before I slept.

"Thank you. For everything. I haven't had many people to talk to recently. Talking to you, hearing your stories… It has helped so much."

He assured me that it was his pleasure; that adventures and explorations are stories to be told, not to be kept hidden away like secrets.
With that, I watched as Blackwood settled into the pebbles on the floor of his tank, and turned off my lamp.

As strange as he… no, as strange as everything I had summoned so far was, I felt I could trust him to keep his word. As unnecessary as it was, I knew he would alert me should something truly pose a threat.

That night, my dreams were filled with unknown and mysterious lands, waiting to be uncovered. Impossibly tall mountains around which incomprehensible creatures lay coiled. Cultures, so very different from my own; languages I could not understand… foods I had never tasted.
Each just barely out of reach.

No matter how close I was to reaching the mysterious artifacts calling out to me, I would just barely miss them.

No matter what commonality I had thought I would find, what words I thought I may have identified, my theories were soon proven wrong.
No matter how close I got to piercing the great sea monster with my spear, it would just dissolve into ink and silt.

But never did I lose hope. I may not have succeeded at one thing, but I had survived. I would soon depart again to a new land, with new opportunities. With new things to discover, new things to experience. And new stories to bring to those back home.

…

Beta read by DesolateAncientMoon. Thank you for reading.

Chapter 4: Cooking and Babysitting

Chapter Text

1.3

Without in person instruction, all I had to work off of was self study. If anything it was an improvement. There wasn't anything new I was doing; Winslow's teachers barely taught as it was. It did, however, leave me with quite a bit of unplanned free time leading up to Christmas break.

I lifted the grocery bags onto the counter, right next to the mail I had gotten earlier. I ended up cooking tonight and making some extra for Dad. I knew he would be working and wouldn't get a chance to make anything but a microwaved dinner or something like a sandwich. Even some leftover soup he could heat up would be better than that.

I sorted through the mail, and saw a large orange envelope addressed to me. From Arcadia. My heart jumped, it was official! I'd never have to go back to Winslow! After the incident and the school shut down, they announced that we would be selected to transfer either to Arcadia or Clarendon. Thankfully, I got Arcadia. I think it was just a better fit for me.

Within it, I was greeted with pamphlets and brochures showing off the beauty and funding of Arcadia, and other documents. I felt excited and a little jealous. Winslow had never gotten this kind of treatment or funding.

Besides that, there were some packets meant for me, and some for Dad. I received some syllabuses for the classes I'd be taking, and some notes from the teachers. At least it's a distraction from the study packets Winslow sent home with me.

For Dad's stuff, I'd let him take a look at it later.

Oh right, the groceries.

I set the mail back down and picked up the bag. I put half the ingredients in the fridge for later, and half on the countertop so I could start.

Laying out a recipe I copied from online, I started cooking.

Or at least, I tried.

Holy hell this recipe was confusing, calling for weird portions and oddly prepared ingredients for a 'perfectly balanced taste' and 'complimentary presentation'. What does 'julienne' even mean?!

I sighed, pushing the frustration away. Putting the unused ingredients into the fridge. I turned on the radio dad kept in the kitchen, some sort of background noise while I cooked. Mozart began to play.

I closed my eyes and listened to the music for only a second.

I only opened them when I heard a knife hitting the cutting board.

I spun around, half-expecting to see Dad behind me, maybe getting himself a snack. But he wasn't supposed to be home for a few hours.

I saw the knife clatter back onto the table. Something had definitely lifted it up, but what?

I looked around the entire kitchen, unable to find anyone that my power may have summoned. Because of course it would be my power; what else could've done that?

When I turned my back, yet again I heard the knife. This time, I slowly turned back around, keeping my eyes to the ground. That's when I saw its shadow.

It had no neck, a long torso, with a tail that ended with a point. It's arms, It's arms seemed to into more than one. Maybe two? Three? Each seemed to be managing a step, one was cutting the vegetables, another was turning on the oven, another was getting a bowl ready, one was pouring water into a measuring cup, while two were holding the recipe up so it could read it.

I tried looking back up at it, but when I did, it disappeared again, dropping all of the things it was holding.

I looked away, and everything was picked back up. I kept my head down this time, watching it as it expertly used its six hands to cook.

After a while I rubbed my neck and looked away, having my head pointed down was making it feel sore.

I walked away and back to the table, making sure to not look towards the kitchen. I sat down and kept looking through the Arcadia papers. Pamphlets for the school, and a lot of papers detailing my transfer, including the assignments and tests I would need to take to let me integrate. I started on the first assignment, math, listening calmly to Mozart and the sounds of the kitchen.

This entire situation was weirdly… normal. If it were something more subtle, I probably wouldn't even recognize that it was occurring at all.

How long had I had this power?

I remembered one time when I was younger. Around 6 or 7. Visiting my grandmother. Mom's mother... it wasn't her house, rather her sister. They were hosting a family get together. A barbeque or something. I could have sworn that when going through their home, the hallway from the living room to the bathroom was a bit longer one way than the other. Maybe I had just gotten lost? It was a large house - rooms blend together, especially at that age. Maybe... maybe it was the... thing that... 'changed' Winslow? I don't know. I almost don't want to know. Had... has this been happening that far back?

I shivered. Nothing so far was... bad. Well, for me at least. But it was still... wrong. People don't really get it. An invisible... thing. Power. Which is doing things for you. Sure, it wasn't sentient. It was a power. But, I didn't really control it. It was... unnerving? Terrifying? It wasn't something that I could really put into words.

After a while, the oven finally dinged for the last time. A knife tapped three times on the counter, as if to get my attention. I looked up to see a beautifully prepared meal. With shredded chicken, fruit salad, hand-made tortillas, with a side of cheesy potatoes.

Honestly I don't know what theme I was going for when buying stuff, but whatever it did with the other ingredients made it look and smell wonderful.

Almost on cue, Dad walked in through the front door. He took one sniff at the food and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Taylor… did you make all of this?"

"Um… yeah. I did." I admitted. I mean it technically wasn't a lie.

"I was going to take a shower first, but I just wanna dig in." Dad said, setting his stuff down and grabbing a plate. I smiled and stood up to get some food too.

…

Ugh, I had gotten barely anything done these last few weeks. Even with all the free time after the Winslow Incident, it was like I was rotting away. I didn't get a part time job. I didn't do any projects. I barely did anything to try and improve myself. They were going to judge me, weren't they? Even without them to torment me, I was still worse than them, wasn't I?

I landed face first on the couch.

Arcadia is still a week away, and the only news I could pay attention to was that the PRT was dropping the Winslow case. It was apparently due to a lack of evidence.

As long as I never have to go back there, that's fine by me. Destroy that shithole for all I care.

I had walked to the library and back again, trying to find anything that could give me some company, like before. I checked out a few history, sci-fi, and fantasy books. But nobody came.

I heard skittering.

I sat up from the couch, to be met with eleven giant spiders.

I jumped back up on the couch, watching the large spiders walk around and… talk to each other.

They sounded like children. Like little girls.

"Hiiiii miss babysitter, my name is Kemberly, what's yours?" One of the Spiders asked.

"Um… Taylor." I said, speaking slowly. Is this some kind of joke? A babysitter? I know I should've done some searching for a part time job, but really? Now my power is making up work for me to do, and I'm not even getting paid for it!

"Nice to meetcha Taylor! Can we watch cartoons?" Kemberly asked, and the other spiders bobbed up and down in excitement.

I grabbed the tv remote, and turned it on, almost dropping the remote. My hands were shaking. Why? Because of the giant spiders! That's why! I switched channels until I found one with cartoons.

The spiders all jumped up and down in joy, then settled down on the ground to watch. I carefully stepped past them, making sure not to disturb any while I headed towards the kitchen.

Why? Why bring them? What purpose do they serve? What is prompting my power to summon these things? Is it whatever I'm thinking about in the moment? My environment?

I turned my back for only a moment, before I was snapped out of my thoughts by a tapping on the back of my leg.

"Miss Taylor, do you have any food?" I don't think this was Kemberly that said this, but the spider had gained a posse… and they looked hungry.

"Um… yeah. I have some chicken." I grabbed the leftovers from the fridge, and held the container out. I jerked back when the spider ripped the container out of my hands, I stayed far away as the spiders swarmed and tore apart the container and the chicken. When they left, neither remained.

"Miss Taylor… we're all hungry!" This was definitely Kemberly, I recognized the voice this time.

"Uh, I can go get you some food?" I said nervously. I did not like the look they were giving me.

I put on my jacket and slowly walked through and around the hungry spiders, who watched as I left through the front door. Once outside, I quickly closed the door and breathed rapidly, my heart beating.

I was safe for the moment, then quickly realized that leaving the spiders alone inside the house probably wasn't the best idea.

Opening the door, the spider girls had gotten their hands-limbs-whatever, on something as there was now a red stain on the kitchen floor, and similar red liquid on several of their mouths.

"Miss Taylor? Do you have a napkin?" One of the girls asked innocently.

"Yeah, sure." I grabbed a roll of paper towels, and tore off a few pieces, handing those to the spiders.

As they wiped themselves off, I tried soaking up the red stain on the ground. Trying desperately to not think of what it could be, only to get rid of it as fast as possible.

Is this what you wanted? I thought about not doing anything worthwhile and I'm suddenly stuck with babysitting these spider kids? I thought, annoyed with my power. If this was going to continue I was going to have some serious problems.

I didn't want this. They were causing chaos in my home and I wanted them gone.

When I looked up, they were all gone. The sounds of the tv, once quiet over the sounds of spider legs skittering, now was the loudest thing in the house.

Getting up, I turned the tv off. Sighing, I fell down onto the couch and rubbed my forehead. Thank god that was over.

…

SCP-0000 report from Bio-Site 59, Containment site for SCP-5031:

Senior Researcher Stanley Huxtable: We didn't even know that SCP-5031 was gone at first. Its own ability makes it difficult to monitor directly, and we were only notified when the music playlist we had been playing stopped for a moment, and no sound came out.

We tried searching to the best of our ability, taking pictures of the ground to see if we could catch its shadow, but it was completely gone. One of the junior researchers almost sounded the alarm for a containment breach, but I stopped him.

I remembered reading about SCP-0000 a long time ago, I think when I first joined. I had the junior researcher wait for a few minutes, and sure enough, it returned.

We all breathed a collective sigh of relief when It did. And it wasn't till later that day that we saw the drawing.

On one of Its cooking tables, was a crayon drawing of 5031 itself, standing next to a girl with black hair, glasses, a green hoodie and blue pants, probably jeans. I've attached a digital scan of the drawing to this report so other researchers can view it.

That's the question on everyone's mind. Is that SCP-0000? Digging into the data on SCP-0000, I found that MTF Agent's interview recalling his time with SCP-0000. After reading through his jumbled retelling of his experience, I noticed he did mention a girl with a similar description.

Anyways, impossible to know for sure. But maybe this will help a researcher down the line.

Sincerely,

Stanley Huxtable.

Beta read by DesolateAncientMoon.

Chapter 5 Chapter Text

1.4

Thomas Roster took a seat at the table, around him sat his coworkers: Jimmy, Robert, and Sam. All of them wore nearly the same uniform and gear. They were Mobile Task Force operatives, working for the SCP Foundation. They were the best of the best the Foundation had to offer.

"Mornin Thomas." Jimmy said, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

"Mornin." Was all Thomas said, using a fork to take a bite out of his omelet.

"Still on zero duty huh?" Robert asked, sipping his coffee. Zero duty is what they called taking the SCP-0000 job. It took SCP's to who knows where, but would always return them safely back to where they last were. Attempts at getting more info on what SCP-0000 was never worked as the anomalies that were interviewed never cooperated.

"Yeah, well, the 14% is worth it. I'll just sit around for another month and I'll be good." Thomas said. The experiment hypothesized that if an MTF agent was considered an SCP, SCP-0000 might pick them up and take them wherever it took the other SCP's. Professor Andersen found that anomalies which were later explained were still summoned. That all 0000 required was an 'SCP', no matter what it was. Now, it was all just a roll of the dice. One which so far had never had never rolled '0000'.

The others sat in silence afterwards, finishing their meal within the scheduled time. Once finished they put their masks back on, and stood to leave.

"Well I'm off, I'll see you-" Thomas turned to say goodbye to his coworkers, but in an instant his surroundings changed from the bland cafeteria to a bedroom.

"-later." Thomas sprung into action, drawing his Foundation issued M17 out of his holster. This was SCP-0000. It actually happened. He should have knocked on wood.

He held his gun forward, scanning his surroundings quickly to establish any threats. It was an average bedroom; no threats present.

He lifted the curtains; no threats present outside either. Deciding that he was safe for the time being, he holstered the gun and took out a camera. Procedure was to establish his own safety, then take pictures of SCP-0000. Standing in the corner, he got a picture of the room itself, before moving on to take pictures of specific items around the room. The bed, the desk with books on it, the dresser inside the closet, the door.

After letting the film develop, he placed the photos inside a secure pocket, and attached the camera back to his vest where he got it from. Next step in the procedure was to write down his experiences. Taking out a standard Foundation issue notebook and pen, he wrote about the sudden change in location, and the average place he found himself in, where no other anomalies were present.

He heard a creak, someone was moving towards the room.

Putting his notebook away, he drew his pistol again and held it towards the door. Watching as the doorknob turned.

A girl entered the room, and froze when she saw him. She looked to be around high school age, skinny, with glasses and black hair.

"Halt. Identify yourself." Thomas spoke precisely.

"T-Taylor. Taylor Hebert." The girl, Taylor said. She dressed plainly with a gray hoodie and jeans. With her hands raised in the air, she looked terrified.

"Why are you here Taylor?"

"This-This is my house. I live here, and this is my room." This was Taylor's response. Fair enough, Thomas thought.

But he didn't let his guard down, this could be an anomaly trying to get into his head. It wouldn't be the first time hostile anomalies looked like harmless children; SCP-239 came to mind.

"Have you seen anything out of the ordinary?" Thomas continued to question Taylor.

"Yeah, a few things." She said, hands still in the air.

"What were they? People that could fly? Strange objects? Strange creatures or entities?"

"Um yeah, that's been happening. Um, there's been some paper dragons in a box, a shape that makes inside space bigger, a telepathic sea slug, an invisible chef and a bunch of giant spiders acting like teenagers." Taylor explained, and Thomas stayed silent for a moment before lowering his gun.

"Hm, alright Taylor. Give me a moment." Thomas holstered his gun, but was ready to draw it again as he wrote down what Taylor just said in his notebook.

"Can I ask who you are?" Taylor said, and Thomas looked up from his notebook.

"That's confidential. What I can tell you is that I work for… a private company that contains these creatures." Thomas explained. SCP's have been sighted in this location. He jotted down in his notebook.

"Did I summon you too?" Taylor asked, and Thomas stopped writing. He slowly looked up at her.

"You summoned the… creatures?" Thomas asked, and Taylor nodded in confirmation.

"…Ok. Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

…

Thomas sat at Taylor's desk, the chair swiveled so he could face her. Taylor was sitting on her bed. She was still nervous when they sat to talk, so Thomas offered to keep the gun on the table so she would feel safer.

"Alright, just to confirm; you are aware that you're summoning these creatures, right? How many have you summoned so far?" Thomas asked, pen at the ready.

"Five, I think." Taylor said.

"Ok." Only aware of summoning five SCP's so far. Maybe summoning unknowingly?

"Where am I bringing you guys from? Are you from a parallel Earth?" Taylor asked.

"You think there are parallel Earth's?" Thomas worded carefully to see what she knew.

"Well yeah, it's been confirmed hasn't it? We've made contact with Earth Aleph before." Taylor explained.

"Uh huh. And what Earth are we on right now?"

"Earth Bet."

Aware of Parallel Earths. Earth she exists on is referred to as Earth Bet.

"Yes, you could say that we are stationed on a Parallel Earth."

"Sorry my powers have been affecting your organization." Taylor apologized, sounding nervous, and Thomas nodded.

Refers to her anomalous abilities as powers.

"It's not a problem. But it will help to know who's doing this. Speaking of which, is it alright if I take your picture?" Thomas asked and Taylor nodded. He pulled the camera out, and took a picture. Grabbing the picture, he let the film develop as he picked his pen and notebook back up.

"Do you guys have Parahumans on your Earth?" Taylor asked.

"Parahumans?"

"Yeah, Capes, Heroes and Villains, superpowers? You guys don't have that?" Taylor elaborated and Thomas' eyebrows raised.

"No… we don't."

Claims that superheroes exist on Earth Bet. Could possibly be anomalies posing as humans, or humans with anomalous abilities? Could Earth Bet be similar to Three Portlands - a place that anomalous abilities are in some way normal? Maybe some corporation like Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd. are monetizing this in some way. Putting up a facade of superheroes and villains?

Or a world where organizations like the SCP Foundation and GOC were never created, letting anomalies run free?

"Ok, because we're both from parallel earths, I want to ask you some questions about that." Thomas spoke, and Taylor nodded.

"Do the continents, North America, South America, Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia, and Antarctica exist?"

"Yeah… well, mostly." Thomas raised an eyebrow at that.

"Mostly?"

"Well… there are some differences. Like, the continents are the same, but the cities don't like up one-to-one with Aleph. Most of them are the same, yeah, but not all of them? Oh, and the geological differences. A cape - one of the Endbringers. Leviathan. He destroyed Newfoundland and Kyushu, that never happened on Aleph."

"Endbringers? Who are they?" Thomas asked.

"So we have these three capes we call Endbringers? Leviathan, Behemoth, and the Simurgh. None of them have ever spoken, but they all follow a pattern and cause massive destruction. Every few months one of them appears and attacks something. Sometimes it's a city, sometimes an island, or something else. They are really powerful, and have never been beaten before."

Thomas stared at her for a moment, before writing down her description and adding his own notes.

3 Keter class (possibly more) anomalies exist on Earth Bet, terrorizing humanity by attacking a city every few months.

"Earth Bet has contacted Earth Aleph before? Has anyone traveled between the Earths?" Thomas asked, thinking back to the various SCP's that had gateways into his own Earth.

"Not that I know of. Only thing I know that's been exchanged is some electronic data. Like, movies made on Earth Aleph are shared and given to us. Other than that, not really. Oh, so the whole discovery of parallel earths? It was made by a cape.His name was Professor Haywire, and he discovered Earth Aleph and parallel earths with one of his tinker devices." Thomas observed Taylor as she spoke this, she seemed excited as she talked. Happy to tell the stranger from another world about hers.

Only digital connection has been made between parallel Earths. A human anomaly discovered that Parallel Earths exist.

"Have you guys encountered parallel earths before?" Taylor asked back.

"A few…" Thomas said vaguely, debating what he could tell the girl. But eventually shrugged, no harm could come from it since she lived here where inter-dimensional communication was somehow normal.

"Quite a few actually. Some are… more dangerous than others; we either try to seal off the portals or close them all together. But besides that we've got things sort of like pocket dimensions too, where buildings and places extend on and on to no end, creating basically another reality."

"Oh… do people get stuck in there?" Taylor's excitement almost immediately died. She was still interested, but looked slightly nervous now.

"All the time. We try to save those we can, but some we can't." Thomas admitted. That clearly didn't help Taylor, judging by her reaction.

"Alright, going back to what you said earlier. I'm summoning these 'SCPs' from the Foundation where you work?" Taylor asked.

"That's right."

"Then why keep them contained? The ones I've seen have been pretty harmless and don't seem like that much of a threat." Taylor reasoned.

Thomas sighed. He wished he didn't have to go there, but he had to tell her at this point.

"So the ones you've summoned so far are some of the harmless ones. Believe me when I say many of SCP's being contained by the Foundation are a very direct threat to humanity. From humans using their abilities to just torture those around them, to anomalies that you would probably call an Endbringer. They all need to be contained, so the world, my world can go on in peace."

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two. She seemed shocked by the information he just told her.

Unaware of her full capabilities.

"Um… can I ask you something then?" She sounded scared when she posed the question.

"Sure."

"What would the Foundation do to me?"

Thomas wanted to hold his tongue, to not tell the girl the truth. But just like with the questions before, he felt like he should. No, he felt obligated to tell her what she wanted to know.

"You would be contained. Removed from the public and placed in a containment site."

"It isn't like you would be stuck in a cell permanently. Yes, you wouldn't be able to leave the facility, and if you were given access to the internet, your access would be filtered, but it would be a… community. We wouldn't want to isolate you. We don't want to be cruel."

He tried to reassure her. She wasn't some… thing to stick in a box and lock away without a second thought.

"That said, those who know you would be given a memetic agent so they forget about you and so that questions aren't asked."

Thomas ran his mouth. He'd contained human anomalies before. He knows how it works, and what happens.

Now she looked absolutely terrified. Trying to move away from him, and further onto her bed.

"Wait, hold on-"

And he was gone, no longer in her room, but back in the foundation. Surrounded by researchers and electronic equipment.

He looked down at the notebook he had been writing on. When had he scratched out… Her name?

What was it again?

…

SCP-0000 addendum. Requested by the O5 council.

With the return of Agent [Redacted] new information on SCP-0000 has been gathered.

Interviews with the Agent have been unsuccessful. He seems to be under the influence of some sort of memetic agent. The notes and pictures he had taken of SCP-0000 have been damaged, with only a few details being actually discovered. One item was missing upon the agent's return, his Foundation issued service weapon. We can only assume that it is still with SCP-0000.

Agent Tom has been sent back to his tasks and post. It was decided to not give him a memetic agent, as concerns of losing his repressed memories were raised.

Upon the Agent's return from SCP-0000 a disturbance was caught by the sensors. A surge of dark matter was picked on our sensors as soon as Agent [Redacted] returned. The only reason why we're able to detect the dark matter was because of the sheer quantity that appeared when the Agent returned, before dissipating again.

While at the moment we do not know what this means, we theorize that wherever SCP-0000 is, it's much farther away than we initially thought.

We will continue researching, but I recommend that more equipment is installed to detect dark matter, since we hypothesize that other SCP's also cause such a surge when returned by SCP-0000.

Further, while Professor Andersen's hypothesis was proven true, and while memetic influences have been identified, the lack of substantive evidence that the continuation of her experiment will produce better results, Doctors [Redacted] and Muller are formally closing the Maren Andersen laboratory following the cessation of funding.

Sincerely,

Doctor [Redacted].

…

Beta Read by DesolateAncientMoon.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 6: Holiday Cheer

Chapter Text

1.5

Content Warnings: Description of body horror, not exceeding SCP nor canon Worm.

January 1st, 2011.

Saturday.

Crime was higher than normal. Mostly petty crime. Theft of holiday cards and packages. Noise complaints from partiers and fireworks. It was the usual. But there absolutely was an increase in more violent crime. Breaking and entering. Robberies.

These were all things which the local police were supposed to deal with, but some of it leaked over to the PRT.

Just as normal people got drunk, so too did capes.

Just as someone high on PCP might break into someone's home and start burning things on their stove, Oni Lee might do a 'checkup' on someone who didn't pay their protection fees.

It was a case of 'better safe than sorry'. Just like how the local 911 call center would route information to local police, anything which they suspect could be parahuman related would be routed to the PRT.

click

Disturbance flagged. 1182A.

Johnson pressed 'accept', and began listening to the call.

"-here. I know it. I hear footsteps, you know? On the roof? Please... send someone. Soon. I don't know, I haven't been able to sleep. I know we keep on calling, and the last time you sent someone, they found nothing, but I don't know if I can stand this any longer."

The dispatcher responded affirmatively. But it would be a while. The source of the call was quite a ways into the country. The closest police would be there no sooner than 40 minutes from now, and the PRT were a full 2 hours away.

He submitted a ticket, notifying the protectorate of the developing situation, and placed a request for a team to be sent to that address. Maybe they would finally catch that mover or stranger that had been plaguing the state for the past two weeks.

"I'm scared. Can I keep this call open? I don't know if I can stay awake much longer; I haven't slept in days. I don't think my daughter has as well - she nearly passed out from exhaustion yesterday. "

"Yes. Please do not turn off your phone. We want to confirm that you are ok. Could you please change your phone to speaker?"

She set the phone down, and he could hear her yawning. She spoke sparingly from that point on.

~~~

Johnson and the dispatcher could hear footsteps.

"Katy?"

No response. Worse yet, he could hear signs that she was asleep. Probably exhaustion. Fatigue from weeks of stress, and days without sleep.

Fuck.

Johnson pushed an override request, and took over the line.

"Katy? Are you asleep? We need you awake. At least until the police or PRT arrive."

There was no response.

"Katy! Can you hear us?"

Nothing.

A second later, Johnson heard a sound. It wasn't... that distinct. Katy wasn't waking up.

There was some creaking. A soft 'thump'. A pillow falling off of something? No. He had to assume the worst. Hope for the best. If it was an-

The line cut out.

This number is not available.

click

Disturbance flagged. 1182A.

Another one. Someone else would have to listen to that. Hopefully they could find a pattern. Figure out why these people kept on getting harassed. Learn which one is whoever this cape is. Stop them. And which ones are just... similar. Animals. Maybe a burglar.

Mary accepted it, and Johnson went back to trying to re-establish contact.

click

Disturbance flagged. 1182A.

A different one. Nearly an hour away from the previous two.

Mike took that.

Johnson glanced at Mary. She was looking at her screen, obviously frustrated.

When she saw him looking at her, she took off her headset.

"I saw you took the other 1182. Did yours get DCed as well?"

He nodded. A change in patterns.

They looked over at Mike. His caller still had connection.

Then he took off his headset.

"Same thing happen to yours? Phone going out of service or something?"

"Yeah. Same thing" Mike said.

click

Disturbance flagged. 1182B.

Another change in the pattern.

So many so quickly.

Near Mary's last caller. Not right next to them - they are out a ways in the country, but they could see something happening at their home, albeit it was near a mile away.

She took that one.

"...No, miss, you see I saw something. It wasn't human. I could see its shadows in their window. Hell, they were asleep, right? I need to do something."

"Sir, please calm down. Do not approach their house. For your own safety."

"You don't understand, miss. I need to do this. If that... thing were to hurt them, I would feel guilty. I have a shotgun. They don't. They are good kids, and I don't want them to be hurt when I can stop it."

There was some clicking. Was he loading some shotgun shells?

"I am going, and that is final. You can either help me save them, or not. I know how long it takes for the cops to get here. It won't be in time."

There was the rumble of an engine. It lasted 30 seconds at most. He either took a shortcut, or was speeding. But, he still had his cellular phone on, thank goodness.

The car door opened.

"What the hell? No..."

"Sir?"

"Demons. It had to be demons..."

The sound of running, and a doorknob failing to turn.

A loud blast of sound - he had fired his gun.

"Sir!"

There was a moment of silence. Then sobbing.

"Hell... god help me, their fingers... this can't be earth. I have died, haven't I? Died and gone to hell? People don't die like this... this isn't... human... god-"

And the line cut out.

A fourth time.

4 calls in rapid succession. 3 geographic locations. It was a pattern. It was too much to risk.

The three of them kept on trying to contact them. Call back. Get anything.

But there was nothing. Not a single response from any of them. And after 30 minutes, not a single new call was flagged.

Then the police arrived at Katy's home.

…

Santa Claus comes tonight.

No more days to count.

But the even longer wait begins.

The suspense of having to wait from bedtime 'til morning.

Yes, kids all over the world say their prayers and go to sleep.

Knowing that when they wake up, the little fat man with a long white beard, would've stopped by their houses.

And left the answer to a wish from the most wonderful magical sack there ever was.

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh.

Up on the house top, oh-oh-oh.

Up on the house top, reindeer pause.

Out jumps good old Santa Claus.

Down through the chimney with lots of toys.

All for the little ones, Christmas joys.

Oh, who wouldn't go? (Oh-oh-oh).

Who wouldn't go?.

Up on the housetop, click, click, click.

Down through the chimney with the good St. Nick.

Been waiting all year.

Been waiting all YEAR!

Songs and rhymes lots of fun! Cookies and cakes, books and bakes!

All of them asleep like the good little boys and girls they are. Santa knows. Santa watches.

He sees you when you're sleeping.

He knows when you're awake.

He knows when you've been bad or good.

So be good for goodness sake.

Up the stairs (sneaky sneaky)

Along the floor (Oh so quiet)

The girl sleeps, snug as a bug, under rug.

With a tug the blankets come away. They have people on them, oh how he likes them.

Child stirs! Now for a game!

Saint Nick has to be very careful, (for he is strong(and the children fragile)). Little boys and girls throats so small and soft, Santa takes his candy cane and oh so slowly turns off the screaming parts. Just a slice and snap! There goes the screamer parts.

Quietly wrap the child, for the surprise! The surprise must be a surprise! If they see the present too early it will ruin the surprise!

Must be quick, must be quiet!

To the next child!

Out the room (Quiet on Christmas!)

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house.

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Past the dog (Slurp slurp)

On the ceiling (So clever Santa!)

Next child plays the ball. Bright trophies. Maybe child is… famous? Famous! Famous child makes Santa Clause so giddy that he almost wakes up child. But not now, snip snip snip, child is wrapped up for Christmas morning!

Oh no… parents have found the gift! Santa can't have that! Parents have been naughty…

Saint Nicholas takes their eyes away, Father Christmas takes their minds away so they forget the surprise. They leak Christmas Juice in excitement, Santa uses it to write Naughty on the wall.

(At least he tries. North Pole doesn't have teachers or schools for Santa to learn how to write.)

The children were nestled all snug in their beds-

Oh but not all of them.

Is there… a sneaky child? Clever child? Fun hide-and-go-seeking-for-Christmas child? Santa Claus listens for hidden breathing.

In the child's room? (Nope nope)

Down in the basement? (Nope nope)

Up in the attic (Nope nope)

In the back of the closet behind the big coats?

(….)

Found
You!!

Santa knew the whole time. It was a Christmas joke. (Santa has very good hearing).

…

Out jumps good old Santa Claus.

Down through the chimney with lots of toys.

All for the little ones, Christmas joys.

Oh, who wouldn't go? (Oh-oh-oh).

Who wouldn't go?.

Up on the housetop, click, click, click.

Down through the chimney with the good St. Nick.

Santa visited the last house on the list. Bag now full of all the little elves Santa is going to bring back.

Santa stopped signing. His mood shifted. He knew this girl was special. Santa knew about her when he first started visiting houses. But not this house. This house was off-limits.

He shouldn't visit this kind of house. Not even to give gifts.. But she deserved this. This time, he would make an exception.

So he went down the roof. And crawled through a window he opened.

The girl was asleep in front of him. She was too old. And lived too far away. Why did he stop here?

(….)

Oh well.

He left the present in front of her bed. So when she awoke, the girl would see the gift he left her.

And he went back through the window. (Quietly)

And to the roof. (Sneaky sneaky)

And away Santa went!

Have a holly jolly Christmas.

And in case you didn't hear.

Oh, by golly.

Have a holly jolly Christmas this year.

Oh-ho, the mistletoe.

Is hung where you can see.

Somebody waits for you.

Kiss her once for me.

Have a holly jolly Christmas.

And in case you didn't hear.

Oh, by golly.

Have a holly jolly Christmas this year.

…

I didn't wake up well that morning. No alarm since we were still on Winter break, which was nice. But I still felt stiff from sleeping oddly.

I sat up, stretching out my back. I blinked and rubbed the tiredness out of my eyes. My mouth felt a little dry, maybe I was snoring last night?

What was that smell?

I saw it. A box, strung together what seemed to be hair. Made of what I hoped wasn't flesh, but the blood staining the carpet said otherwise. Was it human?

A wave of nausea hit me.

I screamed.

—-

Two hours later I'm sitting at my kitchen table. I didn't even change out of my sleepwear, just putting on an old hoodie so I didn't get cold.

Police went in and out of the house. Some talked to Dad, some went upstairs in crime scene protective gear. Eventually, someone sat down in front of me.

"Hi Taylor, how are you feeling?" The Detective asked. He wore a large coat, and smelled like coffee.

My Dad sat next to me. "Fine, I guess." I didn't feel bad. Empty? Like there was something I should be feeling that wasn't quite there? The Detective nodded, and brought out a file, opening it on the table.

"I know this might be hard for you, but can you recall anything that happened last night? Anything out of the ordinary." The Detective asked, and I shook my head.

"No, I slept through the whole night. I didn't wake up for anything." I said. I was doing fine until I thought about… that thing again. It's like it was permanently stuck in my brain; I couldn't get rid of it.

He nodded again. "Alright. I only ask because there was a string of attacks last night that seemed to be holiday related." The Detective said, closing the folder.

"Really? Was it multiple people?" I asked, a pit starting to form in my stomach. The Detective shook his head, which only made it bigger.

"No, not that we think. It might be a Parahuman but it's too soon to tell." The Detective explained as the crime scene people emerged from upstairs, carrying the… flesh present out the door. I winced and closed my eyes when I saw it again, and Dad put a reassuring hand on my back.

Agent Thomas warned me… that the Foundation kept a lot of monsters in containment. And now I've let one free. I thought, putting my head between my hands.

Oh god, what if they connect it to me? Would I get in trouble? Would I be arrested?

This is all my fault…

…

"I'm sorry to call upon you all so early in the morning, and on a Holiday, but we've got a situation." Director Piggot stood in front of the room. Tables and chairs had been set up, letting the various members of the Protectorate and the PRT sit in. A projector operated by Armsmaster turned on next to her.

"Last night, five families were attacked in their homes. All in the outskirts of the city, and in rural areas. All far away from police response." A map appeared next to her, showing the houses attacked in relation to the city.

"Due to the amount of attacks, and timeframe between 9-1-1 calls, it was quickly determined that the culprit was most certainly a Parahuman."

"Looking at the recorded 9-1-1 calls for these houses, there were reports of disturbances and strange noises, most likely the Parahuman scouting out its targets before attacking."

"Then, last night at 1 am, he attacked." Piggot watched the projector. Armsmaster clicked it, and a hazy photograph appeared. It was captured by a trail camera, and showed a rough image of the Parahuman culprit. A tall man, with elongated features, gray hair growing off the sides of his head, and under his chin making a beard. And he was completely nude.

A murmur went across the crowd. The smile of the Parahuman was caught by the camera too, big enough to be seen from far away.

"All families had the following characteristics, living out in rural areas, and having a child under the age of eight. Said children were not found, but the rest of the families were. Or what was left of them."

Armsmaster clicked the next slide, and a resounding sound of disgust traveled over the crowd. Director Piggot herself grimaced at the sight, she had seen some terrible things done in her time, and this was up there with them. Families all corralled into a single room, then butchered. Cut by knives, sliced by other things, pieces of flesh removed. Some by sharp objects, others with teeth. Their blood, drawn on the walls in a sort of ritualistic fashion.

Armsmaster didn't linger on the image for long, and quickly switched to the next slide.

"The only lead we have on this Parahuman is from this girl, Taylor Hebert." Armsmaster switched to the next slide.

"Age 15 and lives with her father. Used to attend Winslow High School before it was deemed a Parahuman hazard and shut down. No connection between her and the victims, and she doesn't fit the MO of the killer."

"The only evidence that she's connected is the fingerprint found on her window. It matches the ones found in the victim's houses, with the same double whorl pattern. And this was found in her room."

Armsmaster switched to the next slide, showing a box made out of human flesh, and hair tied in a way to make a bow on top.

"When opened, this was found within:"

Next slide showed what looked like a doll. But its body was a little girl, twisted and sewn to look like a toy.

"We've decided to give the Parahuman the name Toy Maker, and given them a preliminary rating of changer 1, and mover 5. Asking thinkers haven't given us any concrete information on his location or if he will attack again. But for now, we will remain vigilant and monitor for signs of Toy Maker. Hopefully we can find the remains of the kids he took."

"That's it for the briefing, you'll be receiving your assignments later."

The projector shut off and the lights turned on. Everyone got up. Other than a few low conversations, no one wanted to talk after what they just saw. Director Piggot excused herself from the room before anyone could speak to her.

…

Mark Holten was a Parahuman Analysis. And on New Year's Day, he and his coworkers had a field day.

He had helped come up with the name Toy Maker and his rating. With the mere thought of the parahuman, Mark shuddered.

He was stopping by the storage area to drop off some paper files on Toy Maker, and ran into an IT worker down there, Rob. They nodded at each other as Mark passed by.

They would be scanned later, by someone else besides Mark. But when Mark turned his back, he heard the sound of paper being disturbed, falling to the ground. Frustrated, he resigned himself to having to pick-up and re-sort everything he had just filed.

But when he turned back to grab them, they weren't there.

He could've sworn he heard them fall. But when he looked up, he didn't see the files in the cabinet either.

Something was wrong.

He heard the crash of something falling over.

Something was here.

When he saw Rob off to the side, staring at it, he let out a sigh, feeling some of the tension leave his body.

"Rob? Did you knock that over?"

It took a second for Rob to answer.

"The drives are missing.

"What?"

Rob repeated himself. "The hard drives are missing. Something took them. It looked like… like that knight from Monty Python. 'Tis but a scratch' but covered in these weird ribbons-"

It was here. It appeared behind Rob, and looked just as described. Twice as tall as a human, covered in long black ribbons, or was that its body? Its head coming to a point with more ribbons coming out the top.

For an instant, Rob screamed as he was grabbed by the thing, cut off an instant later as he disappeared.

…

Beta read by DesolateAncientMoon.

Chapter 7: Disappearances

Chapter Text

2.1

The alarm went off. It didn't matter since I was already awake.

I sat up and rubbed my face. Three days since I started going to Arcadia, three days and barely eight hours of sleep.

The stress kept me up late at night, not letting me get the rest I needed.

Agent Thomas' words kept bouncing around in my head whenever I'm trying to sleep. What the Foundation contained: evil parahumans and even Endbringers. Could I do that? Could I summon an Endbringer?

…Am I responsible for the current ones?

No, that's stupid, Behemoth emerged before I was born.

But I could control it. Constant awareness, no accidental drifting of thought or emotion, no letting my power slip a monster into the world again. I can stay up late, reading, drinking tea, sleeping only when I know I wouldn't have any dreams. Maybe I should talk to Dad about getting some medication for this?

No… he'd ask too many questions.

But I was feeling the repercussions now. I was sluggish getting up and grabbing clothes. And was barely able to focus on what I wanted to wear.

When grabbing my clothes I pulled open another drawer. The gun left behind by Agent Thomas slid into view. The internet said it looked like a Glock 22, but with a few changes. First off, it was bigger than what the measurements were online, it was decorated with black and white paint, with a little logo on the side. I assumed it was the foundations. I don't know why it stayed when he was sent back, but the actual first thing I looked up was where the safety was on the gun.

I slid the drawer closed and got dressed.

Dad had left already by the time I made it downstairs. I made and ate breakfast slowly, packed my school stuff slowly, and walked to the bus slowly.

I tried pushing myself, but I just didn't have it in me. I could tell fatigue was setting in now. Sleep would fix this, but I didn't.

I couldn't risk summoning another monster in my sleep. I can't let another Toymaker incident happen. Or something even worse.

I sat at the bus station. Trying to keep my eyes open. I took the tea I kept warm in a thermos out of my bag and drank it. It was way too tannic but the momentary energy was a welcome relief.

I saw the bus turn the corner, and it pulled up to the stop. When I showed the driver my student ID, he let me on.

There were a few other people on the bus. I took the closest open seat and sat down before the bus drove off.

It was about a fifteen minute bus ride in the morning to Arcadia if no traffic stopped us. It was longer on the way home thanks to a combination of the route and rush hour.

I glanced at the guy sitting across from me on the bus. He looked like he was in his twenties, and had a suitcase with him? Odd. This was public transit.

The most notable thing was that he was absolutely freaking out. He kept turning and twisting in his seat, checking the bus, then outside, then his phone, then outside again. Who got high at seven in the morning?

I turned to look at the other passengers. They didn't seem to be bothered by this guy and kept to themselves.

I did the same. I tried to busy myself by reading over my assignments. I didn't want to catch his attention. Once we got closer to Arcadia's stop I put my stuff away in my bag.

The other passengers were gone. They probably got off at another stop.

Arcadia's stop was next, and I got off without issue. The difference was immediately noticeable once I walked onto the campus: well kept grass, nothing smelled, and no obvious gangsters walking into the building.

It was a nice change from Winslow, that's for sure. Probably the best thing my power has done was shutting that place down.

I got in line for the metal detector and got through without problem. When I grabbed my bag though, I glanced up to see one of Emma's hanger-ons also in line. I didn't know her name, but I didn't want her to see me either.

My homeroom class was first. It was short, mainly for attendance and any school-wide memos that needed to be told to the students. Since most of the kids in the class were from Winslow, the teacher talked about how they wanted to have one on one conversations with us. Asking if we were getting used to the new environment and classes. I was a little surprised; this never happened at Winslow.

I got through the next classes relatively fine. Staying awake in class was an accomplishment itself, and I think I did alright on a pop quiz given by my math teacher.

It wasn't that bad, I was studying this stuff over break. She passed out calculators for us to use too, mine had the name 'Eric' scratched in on the back, but I didn't think too much of it. Probably just some other kid that used it before me.

After the quiz we didn't have much time left, so the teacher let us leave early. Except me, since he asked if I could stay behind to talk.

"Hi Taylor, how have been this week so far?" Mr. Smith asked, and I shrugged.

"Fine I guess. Why did you ask me to stay back?" I wanted to get right to the point.

"Well, have you been turning in homework Taylor?" Mr. Smith asked.

What.

Were they at it again?

"I have been turning in my homework." I said defensively. Hoping that a teacher would finally be taking my side, and to my surprise, he did.

"That's what I thought. Because I've watched you turn it in on a few occasions. Later when I go to grade it, I can never find it." Oh no, it was happening again.

"Now, I'm not blaming you for this. It could very well be that this is my fault, I just wanted to let you know what was happening. I'll try to grade yours as soon as you turn it in so this doesn't happen anymore." Mr. Smith said and I stared at him for a moment.

"Uh… yeah that works for me." I said, still a little dumbstruck. Mr. Smith nodded in response.

"Alright, have a good rest of your day Taylor."

When I walked to lunch, I passed by a few fliers hanging on the wall. A chess club, literature club, and opportunities for math tutoring.

The literature club was… tempting. I was in one before Mom died. The book list looked nice too…

But I walked away from it. I couldn't risk endangering more people.

Before I got to the cafeteria I passed by a few vending machines. It was the usual stuff inside, snacks and some drinks.

There was a coffee vending machine there too. I swear I didn't remember seeing it yesterday. Maybe something the staff used? I could probably refill my tea with this…

I put the thermos under, and paid the fifty cents.I typed my favorite type of tea in. And a moment later it poured into my thermos. Nice.

When I entered the cafeteria, I found my usual spot at an empty table and sat down to eat my lunch. I guess not everything changed from Winslow, but at least I wasn't eating in the bathroom.

I had a book with me at least and spent my time eating and reading which made the half an hour lunch break go pretty quickly.

When the bell rang, I stood and almost hesitated getting in the crowd. Even with Winslow gone, I was still worried about them. I was pretty sure that they transferred here too.

And I saw someone. Just through the cracks in the crowd making their way back to classes, I caught someone staring at me. He looked my age, but wore some odd clothing. Like an old soldier's uniform from one of the world wars. He stood incredibly still, and just stared at me. A terrifying grin on his face. Was he cape? Some sort of stranger who worked the E88, or someone else? Or did I bring him here?

I closed my eyes. 'Go away. Disappear. Please. I don't want this. Don't hurt anyone.'

When I opened them, he was gone. The crowd continued as if nothing happened.

I decided to go a different way to class.

…

James Hearthland stepped off the helicopter. The cool breeze blew against his jacket as he walked towards the entrance. He was greeted by Director Piggot and Armsmaster.

"Agent Hearthland, thank you for responding so quickly." Director Piggot said, offering her hand to shake. James did, responding with;

"Of course Director, this is why Watchdog exists after all." The three went inside. It was a short elevator ride until they reached a conference room.

Very few people were inside, most likely the other leaders in the Brockton Bay PRT division. Good. The less people who knew about this the better.

James took a seat at the head of the table as Director Piggot and Armsmaster sat on either side of him.

"Before we begin, we need to establish a layer of protection. I read the briefing, and I don't want any more agents disappearing by accident." James spoke, setting his suitcase onto the table. He opened it, and grabbed one of his tools.

"From now on, let's talk about this sticky note. It shouldn't register with the Parahuman, and allow us to discuss it with reduced risk." James placed the sticky note on the table.

"Now, what do we know?"

Director Piggot nodded at Armsmaster.

"Two days ago, at 7:34 pm, Agent Mark Holton entered evidence storage to store case files on the parahuman, Toymaker. While there, he ran into Robert Burdnan, who worked in Information Technology. The… sticky note appeared and took the case file as soon as it left Mark's hands. Then it proceeded to take several hard drives, the contents containing details relating to Toymaker and one of its victims."

"Robert then proceeded to describe the sticky note to Mark, which led to it appearing and taking Robert as well. We can't confirm its appearance as after this, all hard drives containing security footage were taken. We only know this because someone was able to spot it before it was stolen." Armsmaster explained, and James nodded.

Definitely a mover of some kind, Thinker too. Somehow able to know when someone spoke about it, and when it's recorded on a computer. How long had it been in operation? Could it be stealing information from the PRT without anyone knowing?

"I've used my rank to make an executive decision before I arrived here. No details on the sticky note leave this room, if information on it spreads, we could be compromising the entire PRT organization. Because of that, Brockton Bay is effectively quarantined information wise until I can develop a response for the sticky note." James explained, then he turned to Armsmaster.

"Take me to the scene please."

…

The two arrived at the evidence room. It was still closed off with evidence tape, which made James' job easier.

"Alright, I'll come back out when I'm done." He spoke, and Armsmaster nodded, closing the door behind him as he left. Leaving James alone in the room.

He ducked under the evidence tape, and stepped over the fallen hard drive tower. Being careful to not touch or disturb any items on the ground.

Where Rob was taken was helpfully marked with chalk on the floor. James stepped on the chalk, took a deep breath, and let his power flow.

His vision darkened. A void. Occasional sensations as people walked through the place he stood. Allowing him to hear their words, see through their eyes, smell through their nose, and on and on. He knew their intentions, wanting to document the attack on the PRT, their nervousness. Would they be next? Then they were gone, quick as they were here.

Those were the people at the crime scene, and they didn't help him with anything. He had to keep going.

Further, further still.

There.

Rob was standing in this spot, he could see Mark standing across the room. The hard drive tower was on the floor in front of him, James went back a little further, and moved with Rob, stepping backwards and seeing the culprit.

It was there for only a moment, tall, covered in these black ribbons, and a red heart on its face. In one moment it grabbed the hard drives with its ribbons, and the next it was gone.

James let it play, stepping forward with Rob as he spoke to Mark.

"The hard drives are missing. Something took them. It looked like… like that knight from Monty Python. 'Tis but a scratch' but covered in these weird ribbons-" Then it cut off. James was thrown off for a moment, it was easy to lose connection with the echoes, but not like this. It must've been the moment when Rob was taken.

James disconnected, and opened his eyes. The harsh glare from the ceiling lights made him wince. He needed another perspective on the matter; and, if memory served him right, Mark should've been standing here.

He stepped into the spot where Mark stood, and let his power flow again. Darkness returned to his vision, and it took him some time to return to the exact moment when Rob was taken.

But once he was there, he saw it again. Mark felt nervous at the time, a lingering sick feeling from thinking about Toyman, but now his attention was fully on the threat in front of him.

He let it play out. Mark didn't see the parahuman take the hard drives, but he did see Rob get taken.

"The hard drives are missing. Something took them. It looked like… like that knight from Monty Python. 'Tis but a scratch' but covered in these weird ribbons-" Rob said again, the noise reaching Mark's ears.

Then through Mark's eyes, he saw the parahuman again. It grabbed Rob, and then disappeared, just as it did with the hard drives.

That confirmed it then.

James let his power go and returned to the present. He stepped over the evidence again as he moved towards the exit.

He had what he needed now.

…

It took some favors he owed, and a lot of strings pulled, but James finally had the tinker he wanted here now.

Courier made drones of various types and sizes. But what he was most known for was his range. First discovered after the Simurgh attacked his hometown, he and his family evacuated in time and were relocated in a town across the country. He then built a rover that traveled from North Carolina to California to retrieve family valuables that were left behind.

The rover was able to receive precise instructions and be controlled with no delay despite the long range. That's what James was counting on, Courier hadn't found a limit to his control range yet, so he hoped that wherever the sticky note was taking people could be found with the drone. But the tinker was informed that there was a very decent chance that his rover would not be recovered.

Courier finished setting up and piloted the rover into the center of the room. James had made sure that no cameras were currently watching them.

"Whatever we see here, it never leaves this room, understand?" James said to Courier.

"Yeah, alright." Courier pulled out a keyboard from his control station.

"So what do I type in?"

James motioned for him to get up. Courier did.

"This parahuman knows whenever someone describes it, or whenever it is recorded on something digital. I can't describe it to you without risking myself."

"Oh, right. Sorry I kinda wasn't thinking." Courier admitted.

"I'll type it in." James said.

James typed the description of the sticky note into the keyboard. Said description would be stored in the rover, who's tracking beacon had already been activated.

The sticky note took longer than he saw through his power; almost an hour passed before it appeared. The sticky note looked just as James saw it through Mark and Rob's eyes. Tall, made of long spindly black tentacles, and a red heart on its face. The tentacles wrapped around the rover, lifting it from the ground and faded out of sight.

James immediately turned and looked at Courier, who checked his console.

"Damn! Lost the signal immediately." Courier said.

"How long is your range?" James asked.

"If my tests were accurate, I should be able to get a clear signal if I put a rover on Saturn. But how likely is it that the sticky note can go that far?"

"Not very."

"Well the other idea then is a parallel earth. I haven't tested that yet, hard to do so, but I would assume that would be out of range for me." Courier explained, and James nodded.

"I had that thought too. Which is about to make my job a lot harder."

James turned and walked out of the room.

…

WEDGDG REPORT:

Author: James Hearthland.

Subject: Memetic hazard within Brockton Bay division of the PRT.

Contents:

This report does not refer to anything but a yellow sticky note at PRT ENE headquarters. The sticky note was discovered within PRT ENE headquarters, Brockton Bay, seemingly appearing within the building and stealing hard drives containing information on the parahuman, Toymaker, and a civilian who's name will not be recorded on this document.

After that, the sticky note appeared and kidnapped an IT worker within the headquarters, after said worker described the parahuman's physical appearance.

Upon further testing I can confirm that the sticky note has demonstrated a strong thinker and mover ability, able to somehow know whenever information about its physical appearance is either verbally said or typed into a computer and a strong mover ability as it is able to teleport to wherever that information is located near instantaneously.

Due to the nature of 'the sticky note, I can only refer to the yellow sticky note without risk of this report being stolen, and risking the lives of those who will read it.

On my order, I have contained all information that involves the sticky note within the PRT headquarters in Brockton Bay. If information is leaked to other headquarters or the PRT's database itself, we could be facing an extreme data crisis as the info it steals along with its own cannot be recovered.

-James Hearthland.

…

Lisa stretched as she sat down. Her computer was already on and viewing the PRT website.

Something she did to pass the time occasionally. Seeing what they were up to, and even though the Undersiders were just starting out, they didn't want to be big on the PRT's radar.

And they still hadn't realized she figured out their password a month ago.

She logged in under 'her' high level account. Only to be met with an error message.

Lisa frowned. Did the password get changed?

Account wasn't shut down. Most likely another zero day was caught; added security because of that.

Her power helpfully informed her of the potential reasons why her password didn't work. After a few minutes of working at it, she was in again.

She scrolled through the surface level reports. Flagging the ones that would interest her, so she could come back to it later.

A new Toymaker report appeared. She grimaced at the memory. It was a gross tragedy, and she really didn't want a S9 wannabe jumping around the city.

There was a girl involved too, one Taylor Hebert. Apparently Toymaker visited her too during that night, but only left a sort of flesh-present in her house. Poor girl.

But something was off. The report was… lacking. Too short for the PRT, not enough information.

That was suspicious. A solo serial killer parahuman were usually top targets for the PRT, and for good reason too. There should have been more info on what they had on him, or even some thinker reports.

She was invested now and did some more digging.

Toymaker information connected to the data leak.

A leak didn't explain why there wasn't anything about him.

Data steal. Happened recently, more than once most likely. Toymaker data stolen with it.

Who would do that, Lisa wondered. A potential accomplice? Toymaker himself? He didn't seem like a computer guy, the nude grandpa running on people's houses.

More digging was needed.

Then she hit something interesting. A Watchdog report. It was about the stolen data.

Now she needed to be careful. Watchdog had plenty of thinkers that would sniff her out in a heartbeat. She just needed to act like a PRT worker, and she should be fine.

It was getting frustrating, every piece of data she came across was barely helpful. Everything had the most barebones description, and she only knew that it was a parahuman who was responsible thanks to the Watchdog report!

Then finally, Lisa found something.

The tinker, Courier, had submitted a very hazy photograph to the PRT after working with the Watchdog agent on some experiment.

It looked weird, definitely a Case 53. Vaguely human but covered in these long black tendrils, and a red heart for a face.

She didn't have a printer on hand, so she grabbed a notebook and wrote out the description for later use.

Lisa caught something out of the corner of her eye.

What was she doing again?

Oh right, the PRT mystery.

Back to the computer, the image of the parahuman was still on the screen. She grabbed her pen and… where did her notebook go?

Lisa took a sip from the water bottle on her desk and got back on to the computer. Right, the PRT mystery.

Her computer screen was dirty, she'd need to clean it later.

The PRT mystery… She could feel a headache building. A normal one; not power related.

The desk was wobbly, one of the legs needed to be replaced.

Ok what the hell is happening?! Lisa stood up from her chair, hand against her head.

She skimmed the page, her eyes skipping over some of the text and images, her thoughts going back to a bit of damage on the counter that stood out. It was caused by the previous resident, still not having been fixed since Lisa moved in.

Lisa shook her head. And closed her eyes.

Why can't I look at it? Something with my power?

She already knew the answer.

Conditional. Don't write. Don't speak. Not human. Other conditions? (Unknown)

Oh it stole the data. That's what the Watchdog report was referring to. And when she wrote down its description it stole that too.

Why couldn't she remember it? Could it steal memories too?

No, that's impossible, besides the image is still there. So it doesn't take pictures.

Speaking of which…

She slowly slid back into her seat, eyes still closed. Lisa manually shut down her computer, removing the image of the parahuman from the screen.

Then she opened her eyes.

I should probably call Coil.

…

Beta Read by DesolateAncientMoon.

Chapter 8: Death

Chapter Text

Death

I laid in bed, watching the seconds on the clock slowly tick by. I hadn't changed for the night. I didn't even set the glasses aside.

Sleep wasn't an option tonight. I couldn't risk letting anything loose again without my knowledge.

The first week was the worst. My body, not used to the change in schedule, made a lot of activities during the day difficult. But copious amounts of tea got me through. Nights however, were hard. Schoolwork wasn't an issue with all the time I had on hand now. But reading through the night could only get me so far. I eventually decided that walking around the city would be a better use of time than nothing.

I looked at the clock again, one in the morning, perfect. I tossed the covers off and slid into my shoes. Quietly making my way past Dad's room, down the stairs, and out the door.

The weather was finally getting warmer, and I didn't need to wear a big jacket while walking anymore. I still carried my thermos with me, taking small sips of the tea I made before going to "bed".

I let my feet take me wherever they wanted, and instead focused on the problem at hand. Sleeping less often wasn't a good long term solution; I could feel the effects of that already. Constant drowsiness, headaches, and fatigue plagued me while I was awake, and I was accidentally slipping into a nap on occasion. That was incredibly dangerous, and I felt the need to quickly check news online and Parahuman forums to see if any strange events had happened during my slumber.

So far I'd been lucky, and no mass murdering monsters had appeared. There'd been a few reports on strange, unexplainable events like a blood lake in Canada, ruins appearing in Detroit, and an influx of deep sea monster videos. But I couldn't tell which were fake, a result of my power, or some other Parahuman causing problems.

But that still didn't solve my problem. As much as I hated it, I still needed sleep. Involuntary naps were nice but could be really inconvenient at times. I've already fallen asleep twice during class at Arcadia. It's not my fault that physics could be boring.

Maybe I can stop the dreaming? If my mind doesn't wander while I sleep, it could stop things from appearing. Maybe there's medication I could take? To suppress dreams? I read a few articles on sleep patterns, and maybe I could stop it if I only slept for a few hours at a time.

But then I'd have to tell Dad…

Ugh, more problems.

I heard glass breaking.

Looking up, I quickly realized that at some point I had walked to a more seedy place in the city completely by accident. Across the street was a convenience store, and inside were three men ransacking the place. They were definitely Empire. Some of them were throwing items off of shelves, stomping on food, and one took a bat to the soda machine. At the front was the third guy talking to who I assumed was the owner.

Did I wander into gang activity? I should go, I didn't want to get caught up in this.

But before I could turn to leave, one of them saw me.

Shit.

I turned and ran, and I could hear someone chasing me. But even when I tried as hard as I could, it felt like moving through water. He caught up to me quickly. Grabbing me in a bear-hug, I was dragged kicking and screaming into the store.

Thrown against a wall, I got a good look at everyone now. Two of them were definitely Empire gangsters, the shaven heads and Nazi tattoos were a dead giveaway, but the third had me really concerned.

Literal white skin and hair, his eyes devoid of anything and just leaving blank white slates. Alabaster. The unkillable cape. Not fucking good.

"So… someone was watching us then." The Empire cape said, staring down at me. "What do we do with you?"

I stared up at him, stuttering a response. Maybe I could summon something to fight him, but would it work? With his power just resetting him, could I do any damage before he hurt me?

"I-I didn't see anything!" Inwardly, I winced when I glanced at the shopkeeper behind the counter when I said that. Sorry.

"Hm, I don't know… you look like the talkable type." Alabaster said, kneeling down so he was eye level with me.

"We should just kill her, man. Don't gotta worry about it then." A gangster said, and I felt a chill run through my body. Please, no.

"I like the way you think. Alright, get on with it." Alabaster said, standing up. The same gangster pulled out his gun, and pointed it right at me.

As I stared right down the barrel, the world seemed to slow. Out of the corner of my eye, someone stepped up to the gangster, touching him on the arm. He wore a black cloak, and what looked like a plague doctor mask.

A hero? The guy dropped to the ground after being touched. Maybe not.

The other Gangster yelled and grabbed at his own gun sticking out of his belt. He wasn't quick with it, and the plague doctor was able to close the distance between them. And with a touch, he fell over too. Were they dead?

"You fuck!" Alabaster yelled, lunging at the plague doctor with a knife in his hand. The Doctor was quick, dodging the attack and touching Alabaster on the wrist.

Alabaster dropped, just like the others. His body seemed completely lifeless. The doctor wiped his hand on his cloak and inspected the corpse he just made.

"H-He'll come back." I warned the doctor, remembering the basic knowledge I had about Alabaster and his powers.

"Hmm?" The doctor looked at me then down at the corpse as Alabaster began moving. But it wasn't… right. He moaned, wheezing out a breath as his limbs twitched. That's not how his power worked.

The doctor touched Alabaster again, this time on his neck. And the Nazi Cape stopped moving again.

"Fascinating. Never have I seen such a specimen as resilient as this!" The Doctor said, lifting up Alabaster's arm, and moved it around in a circle. "Or so pale…"

Then he looked over to me. "Are you in a good condition, miss?" He spoke with a European accent, but I couldn't quite tell which.

"I-I'm fine. Just a little shaken up is all." I said, lifting myself off the ground. The Doctor followed me with his eyes, before turning back.

"That is good. I could escort you in a moment, but first allow me to perform an experiment… An excision of a manner." The doctor said, grabbing a bag of tools out of his cloak. He lightly picked up a scalpel, cutting into Alabaster's chest.

"What are you doing…" I said quietly, as I watched the doctor reach in and pull out the organs of Alabaster. The red blood coating his dark gloves. I felt queasy.

He removed something, I think his kidney, and examined it. But Alabaster's wound closed after a few seconds, his power kicking in.

"Fascinating. No unordinary intestinal activity, yet the regeneration is instant." The Doctor noted, poking Alabaster with a bloody finger. "What could be causing it?"

"Um, his power resets his body every few seconds if that helps." I said, desperate to not throw up. Oh god that was a lot of blood.

"Resets you say? So it is not total regeneration then." The Doctor said, and flipped Alabaster's corpse over. Before I could even blink, he cut Alabaster's skin from the top of his head to his lower back, then ran his knife inside the skin, skinning the Nazi cape. The loose skin he tossed aside, and we now looked at the completely open insides of Alabaster.

I couldn't hold it anymore; turning around, I threw up. The blood and gore… god the image was seared into my brain.

And yet… I forced myself to turn back and watch the Doctor. Was he here because of me? If he was, I needed to make sure he didn't get out of control. At least he was only operating on Nazis, and not innocent people.

The Doctor quickly lifted his hands, and the skinned body quickly reset back to no wounds at all.

Next, he brought his scalpel to his head, cutting a perfectly straight circle around and into the skull. He lifted the part off and set it to the side, taking a close examination of the brain.

"Now this is very interesting." The Doctor said, and I couldn't help but look at what he noticed. On the brain, was a black lump.

"An anomaly, I see. Perhaps the cause of the specimen's powers?" He poked it lightly, but had to retract his tool when his body reset again.

"This will only take a moment." The Doctor said to me, as he pulled his gloves up. He reached inside his bag, and pulled out a contraption filled with fluid. With insane levels of speed and precision, he cut open Alabaster's body again and reached inside, pumping the liquid into the corpse. Doing something inside him with his hands, then yanking his hands out before the body reset.

Alabaster twitched.

Then he stood up, slowly and sluggishly, his head and arms still limp and unmoving. Now he stood at his full height, and I got a good long stare into his pale, unblinking eyes.

"What did you do to him?" I asked, as the corpse that was Alabaster stumbled away from me. His jaw clicking as his teeth collided.

"I cured him. As I will these gentlemen." The doctor said, moving over to the other corpses. I wanted to protest, to say that this was inhumane.

But they pointed a gun in my face. They were going to kill me.

I let the doctor operate.

The two men rose as walking corpses. Their eyes, as white as the moon outside. I walked alongside the doctor as we exited the store. The owner had run off when the doctor arrived, and was nowhere to be seen.

I turned to the zombies that trailed behind us. What to do?

"What should I do with them?" I asked the doctor, who took a moment to reply.

"They will follow your orders just as they would mine." He answered plainly.

"Ok then… I want all of you to turn yourselves in to the PRT." I said. I guess with all the problems I've caused them the past few weeks I could give them a hand with this.

The zombies shuffled off, Alabaster leading them. They turned a corner, and were gone. Hopefully moving towards PRT headquarters.

I turned to look at the doctor, who stared at me back with his piercing green eyes.

"Could you walk me home? It's been a night." I asked.

"Of course, dear woman. Lead the way." He bowed politely, and we started walking.

I stayed silent for a moment, before eventually speaking up.

"So what's your story?" I asked.

"I spent many of my early years in the great land of Europe. Unfortunately stricken by a plague, one I dedicated my life to curing. The Pestilence."

"The Pestilence? What's that?" I asked, curious.

"It is a plague most deadly and elusive. Anyone could fall under its infection, without realizing it. Fortunately, I believe I have found a cure. You saw it conducted on the gentlemen back there." The doctor explained, and I was unsure. This cure was turning someone into a zombie? But I didn't argue, he probably knew more than me anyways. Even if he was wrong, it was safer to humor him for the moment.

Since no one rode the bus this late, we didn't get any strange looks besides the bus driver occasionally glancing back to look at us. I rested my head against the glass, the weakness in my body making itself known.

The doctor noticed. "You are fatigued?" He asked. I could only nod slightly.

"Haven't been sleeping a lot recently." I answered.

"That will not do, a growing girl such as yourself, needs rest." He said, speaking in his European accent.

"I know… but when I sleep, I can unconsciously summon… things like you." I explained to the best of my ability.

"Things?" The doctor questioned.

"Yeah… things, people, monsters. All from that 'foundation'." I said, remembering back to what the guard had told me. Then I thought of the Toymaker, and the damage he caused.

"The Foundation? That is a name I know all too well." The Doctor said, and I looked at him.

"You know who they are?" I asked, and the Doctor nodded.

"Indeed I do. An organization dedicated to preserving normalcy in the world. I myself have resided inside their buildings of late, working with their scientists to find a cure for the pestilence. For which I am glad, yet I do wish they would not restrict my experiments." Hm, I wonder why that could be?

"An interesting hypothesis. So you believe that by limiting your time asleep, you will control these summons?" He questioned.

"That's what I'm hoping for."

"Have you found results?"

"It hasn't gotten better, but it hasn't gotten worse either." But I think I am at my breaking point now. When I'm awake, they seem to appear based on certain patterns or something. But there were no such patterns when I was asleep. "I need to get some sleep before I collapse."

The bus arrived at my stop, the doctor got up first and offered a hand to assist me. I turned him down. I saw what his touch did, and I didn't want him curing me of my fatigue.

We stepped off the bus and onto the sidewalk. The doctor and I kept walking along it to my house, and only after a few minutes passed did I realize that I had lost my thermos. Probably dropping it during the scuffle with the Empire gangsters. Oh well. At this point, I couldn't bring myself to care.

When we got to the house, I fished my key out of the pocket and unlocked the front door. I was on autopilot at this point, just wanting my bed now. Yet I let the doctor in, if I kept him in sight maybe he wouldn't go out and create more zombies.

Regardless, I walked up the stairs to my room, and just fell down onto my bed.

The doctor closed the door behind me, and looked at the bookshelf I had.

"May I?" He asked, I grunted out a yes.

As I settled in my bed, the doctor took a seat, and grabbed a book off my shelf. Too dark for me to make out the cover, but it didn't stop him from reading.

"Can you… stay for a while? I don't want anything else visiting." I asked, my eyes already heavy.

The doctor glanced up from the book. "Of course."

With that, I closed my eyes, and slept.

…

In a forest, nothing seemed to move. A moose ate peacefully under a tree, yet kept a constant lookout for danger.

Next to the moose, a red drop of blood emerged from the ground, melting the snow slightly around it and leaving a pale red mark. The red snow grew outwards, its diameter increasing exponentially.

The moose noticed the red puddle forming in the snow, and after sniffing it, the animal yelped and ran away from the strange red liquid. Its diameter continued to increase as the snow melted, and a small pond of the blood red liquid now formed.

The pond kept growing, flowing around trees. As the ground underneath was consumed by the blood, and the trees fell below the surface, disappearing.

Now the size of the lake, the red stopped. Stillness returned.

Until something emerged.

An arm shot out of the red lake, grabbing hold of the shore. It pulled the rest of its body out, covered in blood. The person gasped air, presumably having been stuck within it for some time.

Slowly, they lifted themselves out of the deep red lake, and fell against the ground. Coughing up heaps of blood that wasn't theirs. Their costume, now slick and stained with the red liquid.

She sat up, and wiped the blood off their face, erasing the discomfort for a second. Then she stood, leaning against a tree for balance.

"Control, this is Lightspear, do you read me?" She asked into the device on her arm. She looked down and wiped the blood off the screen, only to see that there was no connection.

"Damn it." She adjusted the device, now broadcasting to all frequencies.

"If anyone can hear me, this is Lightspear requesting a pick up from my location. Transmitting signal now."

She sighed and leaned against a tree, wiping the excess amount of blood off of her body. It was only partially effective, as the red most likely stained the white costume she wore.

The lake gurgled, and it drew the parahuman's attention to it. Ripples emerged as something under the surface disturbed it. Then with a splash, something else reached out and grabbed the shore, just as she did moments ago.

As blood dripped back into the lake, Lightspear stared at the monster that had emerged. Its body a poor fusion of pink flesh and machine, its right arm ended in a long scythe, and its left a large cannon. It turned, and the machine's cold red eyes stared directly at her.

It raised its arm, and fired an energy blast.

She dove, and hit the snow. The energy blast flew over her, and exploded the tree behind her. Frantically, she reached for her belt, grabbing a flashlight. She glanced at the robot, which was running to where she was. Forced to limp as one of its legs was shorter than the other.

"Shit!" Lightspear swore, gripping the flashlight tightly. She flicked on the tool, and swung.

Solid light collided with the misshapen legs, tripping the machine. It slid across the snow, and gave her plenty of time to get to her feet. Light solidified: her power. It came in handy, but Lightspear had to get creative in its uses.

The machine got up from the snow, and swung with its scythe arm. She ducked in time, and the blade cut directly through the tree behind her. Far more dangerous than Lightspear was used to back home. Maybe she could fight it, but the machine could kill her while doing so.

She turned on the flashlight, and the light beam landed on the chest of the robot, pushing it back as the light beam grew. But the robot refused to fall, instead stabbing its scythe arm into the ground to keep itself upright.

Never mind, she had to run.

Lightspear ran as fast as she could through the snow, ducking and dodging behind trees so she wouldn't be an easy target for the robot. But the sounds of explosions behind her obviously didn't stop it.

Trees collapsed behind her, making incredibly loud cracking and snapping noises as they hit other trees and eventually the ground. But even as she ran, she could hear the mechanical monster approaching, its legs plenty loud and not doing it any favors.

A tree collapsed next to her, and she flinched, and jumped behind another tree. She leaned against it, catching her breath, as the robot drew closer. Maybe it couldn't see her, but she wasn't going to rely on it, and ducked down at the ready.

A good thing she did so, as the tree exploded where her head used to be. Lightspear peaked around the tree, and saw the robot with its laser cannon. Glancing up, the clouds finally cleared.

Stretching both hands, she reached with her power focusing on the robot as it passed into the sunlight. It froze mid-sprint, the sunlight solidified holding it in place.

Lightspear sighed in relief, and walked backwards. Making sure she could keep the robot in sight as she moved away.

Her arm device beeped, as a connection was made. She glanced over, keeping her arms outstretched. With a twist of her arm, the message played automatically.

"Hello Lightspear, my name is Dragon and I've received your message. I'm currently en route to your location, stay put." The voice, Dragon, relayed to Lightspear. Dragon. She recognized it as a name of a hero. But not one she was particularly familiar with

Another twist of her arm, and the device prepared an answer. "That's great, but I can't really stay in place right now."

A response. "That's alright, I'll just track you from your device."

"Great, thanks. See you soon." Lightspear said, and went back to focusing on the robot, still frozen in the light.

Now the robot was just a speck on the horizon to Lightspear, safely away as she waited for her pickup. A headache started to form, the result of prolonged usage of her power. Hopefully it didn't take much longer.

Suddenly, a metal machine touched down next to her. About as large as a helicopter, yet shaped like a dragon with jet engines. When the woman who said would help her was identified as Dragon, she didn't think she would actually send a dragon!

"Hello Lightspear. Ready to go?" The same voice said through speakers on the side.

"Yes please, I'm ready to go home." Lightspear said, releasing the robot and quickly boarding the dragon. Hoping the robot was far enough away that it couldn't cause any issues.

She was right thankfully, and as the dragon flew away, she saw no sign of the robot following.

…

Ixuh-A7 was unfamiliar with its location. The hostile jungle of GT456 was gone, replaced with the cold forest Ixuh found himself in. The temperature would have bothered an inferior being, but did not affect the superior body Ixuh had given himself.

The surroundings were analyzed using his extensive database, the trees were Limber Pine, an Earth grown species! That means that the strange wormhole returned him to Earth! Where he could snuff out the inferior humans at the source! The colonists left alive on GT456 were of no concern to Ixuh now, they were light years away and Ixuh would already have destroyed this planet before a warning would ever reach them.

But what was this wormhole? It caught Ixuh mid-chase of a colonist, transporting him to Earth from GT456 in under five minutes. Meaning it transported Ixuh at approximately 736,000 times the speed of light. If he could harness this power, just as he had harnessed the superior intelligence of the alien species, he would be unstoppable.

The red lake held the same consistency and color of human blood despite being inorganic in nature. The devices Ixuh held on hand gave no revelations about how the wormhole functioned, or how Ixuh could harness it.

A sample of liquid was extracted for later study as there were more pressing concerns. Namely humans, living nearby. The anomalous human Ixuh had fought was too far to pursue, but there was a gathering of humans closer than Ixuh could exterminate.

Ixuh moved its wounded body through the forest. Even with damaged legs and broken systems he was still a dangerous threat to any human. Repairs could be made when he got access to a fabricator and gene-sequencer.

Less than a mile away, was a large mansion. Ixuh observed from the trees, scanning through the buildings and tracking each human inside. There was clearly a leader, who lounged in a large bed, a woman in his arms. They entertained each other before the woman was dismissed, and another entered, acting the same and taking part in the same ritual. Strange, and a considerable waste of time.

Children and other small humans were on the lower levels: the easiest targets. Guards stationed at certain points throughout the house, but their primitive weapons would be no match for Ixuh's superior form.

Less guards at the front, more spread out. The front door led directly to the large living area with the most people, so Ixuh decided to attack there, head on. The humans would never expect it.

The machine limped a wide angle around the house, staying in the trees to avoid being seen. Keeping the element of surprise in his favor.

Ixuh emerged from the trees and stepped on the gravel path, walking at a brisk pace towards the two security guards. The one on the left noticed him first, and Ixuh scanned the raise in heartbeat as he fumbled for his gun. Ixuh raised his laser cannon arm, and fired a blast at the human. The man's chest exploded violently as the laser punched a tree sized hole into his body.

The next guard received the same treatment, in one moment his head and shoulders were there, the next they were an explosion of blood. The noise was incredibly loud, attracting more guards. Ixuh reached a car and stuck his scythe under the vehicle, lifting and flipping it on its side to create a barrier.

They mobilized far quicker than Ixuh calculated, and a change in plan was needed. The mansion extended next to where Ixuh stood, so after raising and firing his laser cannon, he had a new entrance.

Walking up to the hole, bullets fired into his body. Tearing at the organic bits and puncturing through several metal parts. No matter, the mission was still underway.

He caught several women and children running from the hallway he entered. Running too slowly, and they were blasted from behind by the laser cannon. Some escaped, and Ixuh gave chase. Security tried apprehending him at a corner, but Ixuh had scanned ahead and saw them first. Two security guards got an unwelcome surprise as Ixuh's scythe stabbed through both of their chests, and thrown at their comrades.

More guards appeared, shooting Ixuh from several angles. Systems failing, mobility reduced. Too many, but Ixuh could kill more.

He blindly fired, his vision already failing and shutting down. Blasting any movement he could see, coating the walls and ceiling with blood, blasting holes through the drywall, in a mad burst of destruction.

One of the surviving children turned to stare at him.

He struggled to raise his laser canon. He couldn't aim it anymore.

His core systems were failing now. Impossible. He could not be beaten by humans, they were inferior.

Inferior.

Shutting down.

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Comments

EneRGarD on Chapter 1 Thu 15 May 2025 11:16AM UTC

https://archiveofourown.to/works/46134331 https://archiveofourown.to/works/59053459/chapters/155455258 https://www.reddit.com/r/AO3/comments/1hopj2p/collection_ao3_specific_htmlcss_resources_all_in/ This is if you want to make everything look more beautiful and interesting.

Last Edited Thu 15 May 2025 11:16AM UTC

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Glitch (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sat 17 May 2025 04:52PM UTC

Who is SCP-0000?

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1. Tanksalot on Chapter 1 Tue 20 May 2025 03:55AM UTC
  
  SCP-0000 is essentially Taylor. Or rather the the number given to describe Taylor and her actions of summoning SCPS.
  
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Tes (Guest) on Chapter 2 Fri 16 May 2025 07:59PM UTC

So taylor stopped the explanation of the scp universe for some time? Ok

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ZZaner67 on Chapter 3 Sat 02 Nov 2024 07:20AM UTC

Very interesting so far, very rarely do you see a good SCP crossover fic. Also Taylor's "Power" seems to be the... "manifestation"/"Summoning" of SCP objects through certain books that she reads right? or did I miss something? Which makes me curious on what the trigger event was that led to such a power. Its been a while since I've read the SCP archive and ever getting around 2500~ish so I was wondering if you could put the starring SCP objects in the AN it would be nice to go read the archives for the objects.

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ZZaner67 on Chapter 4 Sat 02 Nov 2024 07:27AM UTC

Addendum to my comment on the previous chapter, So instead of books it seems to be either Taylor's current wants? Desires? Mental State? or her current thoughts? Is it on like a timer between manifestations or it sort of an accumulation/threshold of emotion/thought that eventually leads to a manifestations? I am so very curious on how you will flush out her power more along with the "mechanics" behind her power.

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ZZaner67 on Chapter 5 Sat 02 Nov 2024 07:38AM UTC

Another Addendum (Sorry for all the comments), So Taylor can "will" away SCP's whenever she wants, but the method of "summoning" is still kinda unknown (unless I missed it cause I suck at reading sometimes). All of the SCP objects up to now have been situational from the room expanding SCP for her want to escape and hide, to the Dragon Box from a fantasy book and comfort, to Blackwood Slug from his book and a want to be lost in a story, to the... Peripheral Jumper? Chef? to help with a hard recipe, to the teenage spiders for the lamenting of not doing something productive like a job, to finally an SCP agent for... something, I assume she wanted more info on the SCP's that she summons? or was it some other kind of want/need/mental/emotional state that summoned an MTF trooper. Still very interesting and I look forward to moar.

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1. Tes (Guest) on Chapter 5 Fri 16 May 2025 08:11PM UTC
  
  She did end last chapter and the chapter before that wondering a lot about how the scps are appearing so thats most likely why it summoned the MTF guy since he would give her info
  
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Losphe on Chapter 6 Thu 31 Oct 2024 02:39AM UTC

I fucking hate the Yule man

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ZZaner67 on Chapter 6 Sat 02 Nov 2024 07:51AM UTC

Another Addendum (Hope this isnt too many comments), So Taylor's power has to be based on her current main(?) thought or emotion hence why ol' Saint Nick was on the prowl because of the Holidays/Winter break putting the thought of Christmas into Taylor's head even if it wasn't her current thought it was like an overwhelming(?) background thought something that just sits there. Also the indescribable SCP that takes you away if you describe it (Haven't read its entry and don't known the number) is actively preventing(?) the storage of information on summoned SCP objects. Is it a secondary defensive mechanism to prevent the knowledge of SCP from remaining in Earth Bet or was it just a happy coincidence? So very curious its got me hooked!

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1. Tes (Guest) on Chapter 6 Fri 16 May 2025 08:18PM UTC
  
  It seems to be taylor not wanting to be found out and thus it summoned a scp that would do the job (seems to start with lower number scps since it thankfully did't summon 3125)
  
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Giggity (Guest) on Chapter 6 Fri 20 Dec 2024 09:58AM UTC

I, don't even want to know what scp that was.

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Glitch (Guest) on Chapter 6 Sat 17 May 2025 05:34PM UTC

Toy Maker?

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ZZaner67 on Chapter 7 Sat 02 Nov 2024 08:05AM UTC

Addendum Again (Last one promise), So it is based on thought/emotion and even occurs during dreams. Also I don't think be tired will help if anything it will just be a detriment because exhaustion makes you loopy and throws your thoughts and emotions all over the place so it wont be good for Taylor. Still cant tell if the manifestations are timer based that are getting shorter and shorter or are based on how long the thought/emotion that summoned the entity/object lasts which makes it interesting for future chapters and the SCP's that will be linked with said thoughts/emotions.

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1. Tanksalot on Chapter 7 Wed 06 Nov 2024 05:12AM UTC
  
  No worries about all the comments, I enjoy reading them.
  Your pretty close to realizing her power, but let me clarify a few things:
  Her power isn’t based on a timer, SCP’s can stay as long as Taylor wants them too. SCP-2521 only appeared and started stealing stuff when Taylor was worried that the PRT would connect her to Yule Man.
  
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Tes (Guest) on Chapter 7 Fri 16 May 2025 08:28PM UTC

...

DID SHE SUMMON A YOUNG 106...

Ok this power is based on her current thoughts and only cares about her well being
It summoned the yule man randomly due to the holiday season but summoned ../....././.. to make sure no one looked into taylor and summoned 294 to help refill her tea but since taylor is scared of what her power could summon it summoned 106 but his younger self since he does not have his powers then and suit case guy seems to be another scp idk the number of and the calculator seems to be a ref to eric who made a number of scps in universe

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Glitch (Guest) on Chapter 7 Sat 17 May 2025 05:43PM UTC

Apparently Taylor still doesn't understand the difference between anomalies and parahumans/Endbringers.

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Tes (Guest) on Chapter 8 Thu 15 May 2025 07:00AM UTC

I am going to assume that taylor can't summon any alt universe scps/scps found in the years after 2011 and won't pull a mahoraga with ones like 3812 most 001s or scp 6820 and 6747 from admo

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1. Yes (Guest) on Chapter 8 Fri 16 May 2025 07:47PM UTC
  
  ... assuming that the 049 interview happens right after it helps taylor and it gets back then that means taylor's power does not care about time when getting scps (which well great no risk of 3125 here) so now i am more scared of what taylor could summon ( aka she could summon the alarm clock that can destroy the world or any potential XKs) heres hoping she does summon 999 if she deals with the S9 cause well it would be funny
  
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2. 1. Tes (Guest) on Chapter 8 Fri 16 May 2025 08:12PM UTC
    
    Lol got my name wrong last comment
    
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PandorasboxofFiction on Chapter 8 Thu 15 May 2025 07:13AM UTC

Well well well just found this treasure of a fic~
Please good sir continue

Last Edited Thu 15 May 2025 07:14AM UTC

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Lonesome_Duck on Chapter 8 Thu 15 May 2025 08:44AM UTC

I really need Taylor to pull out some massive monster SCP to fight an End bringer.
Thanks for the update, nice to see this fic hasn't been abandoned.

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1. Tes (Guest) on Chapter 8 Thu 15 May 2025 09:02AM UTC
  
  Well she can do it the easy way (summon a reality bender) or the hard way (summon 682) the choice is hers
  
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2. 1. xvxIamMeatlerxvx on Chapter 8 Fri 16 May 2025 04:51PM UTC
    
    Or if possible serious 001s like gate guardian or just like use the nerfing gun
    
    Last Edited Fri 16 May 2025 05:03PM UTC
    
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  2. 1. Tes (Guest) on Chapter 8 Fri 16 May 2025 05:08PM UTC
      
      Well if were going to the 001s then the children could also bring down a endbringer
      
      And thats if we say taylor summons ones that won't cause an xk just by being there like 3125 or 2747 or hell even the ink pen that could cause a grey goo
      Also could just summon scp 7000 cause well he would keep her out of harm just not in any flashy way lol
      
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Work Header

Paranomalous

Tanksalot

Summary:

Chapter 1: Foundation Record: SCP-0000

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Renovations

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Exploration

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Cooking and Babysitting

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Holiday Cheer

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Chapter 7: Disappearances

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Chapter 8: Death

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EneRGarD on Chapter 1 Thu 15 May 2025 11:16AM UTC

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Glitch (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sat 17 May 2025 04:52PM UTC

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Tanksalot on Chapter 1 Tue 20 May 2025 03:55AM UTC

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Tes (Guest) on Chapter 2 Fri 16 May 2025 07:59PM UTC

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ZZaner67 on Chapter 3 Sat 02 Nov 2024 07:20AM UTC

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ZZaner67 on Chapter 4 Sat 02 Nov 2024 07:27AM UTC

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ZZaner67 on Chapter 5 Sat 02 Nov 2024 07:38AM UTC

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Tes (Guest) on Chapter 5 Fri 16 May 2025 08:11PM UTC

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Losphe on Chapter 6 Thu 31 Oct 2024 02:39AM UTC

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ZZaner67 on Chapter 6 Sat 02 Nov 2024 07:51AM UTC

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Tes (Guest) on Chapter 6 Fri 16 May 2025 08:18PM UTC

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ZZaner67 on Chapter 7 Sat 02 Nov 2024 08:05AM UTC

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Tanksalot on Chapter 7 Wed 06 Nov 2024 05:12AM UTC

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Tes (Guest) on Chapter 7 Fri 16 May 2025 08:28PM UTC

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Lonesome_Duck on Chapter 8 Thu 15 May 2025 08:44AM UTC

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