4r4nd0md4y's Sandbox III

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Irantu, Munru, Onru, and Nanku stared dolefully at the whirling ball of knives proffered to them.

"So, to be clear, our assignment is to sit in this truck trailer with this object and escort it from here to Site-45? And then ride straight back?" Irantu asked.

"Correct," said the researcher in front of him. "Here's the containment procedures for the thing; you shouldn't need it. Long as the box doesn't break you'll be fine. Trip shouldn't be more than fifteen, sixteen hours max. We're not expecting any hostiles. Here's a transponder in case you need to contact the driver."

Irantu took the paper. "And if the box breaks?"

The researcher cocked his head and clicked his tongue. "…that's why we assigned you. Oh! Here's a couple spare boxes."

The truck driver slammed on the horn. "Let's go! We're supposed to be there by tonight!"

The remaining members of Tau-5 looked to Irantu. He nodded and they leaped into the semi-trailer. Irantu clambered in more carefully, conscious of the box. The trailer door slammed shut and the truck started moving.

There was a single incandescent bulb hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the cold metal floor. The squad sat in a cramped circle around the box.

"So," Munru said. "What exactly is it?"

Irantu looked at the containment dossier. "It says here… the object should be contained within a polycarbonate box point-two-five meters to a side and five centimeter thick walls with a lockable lid. If the box breaks, two D-Class personnel must be sent in to the cell… one to occupy and lure the object and one to contain it in a replacement box. The D-Class personnel should only be recovered once the object is securely contained. More D-Class may be sent in should the first one be eliminated by the object.'"

Nanku picked up the cube. "So it kills people unless it's in the box?"

"Explains why we are guarding it," Onru said.

They kept staring at the box. The light flickered.

Finally, Nanku spoke up. "Anybody have playing cards?"

Munru peered over his cards. "Go fish."

"Damn," Nanku said. She snatched a card from the pile on the floor.

"Irantu…" said Onru, "have any tens?"

Irantu handed her two tens. She placed all her cards on the floor to reveal all four tens.

"I win," Onru said.

Nanku angled her head to look at her. "Sound excited about it. Sound more normal," she said.

Onru shrugged.

Nanku rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "Now what should we play?"

"Dunno," Munru said.

Nanku perked up. "Did you just use slang?"

She got up from the floor and advanced on Munru. At that moment, the truck bounced on a massive pothole in the road. The box flew out of Irantu's grasp and smashed against the wall, popping the lid off. The ball of knives practically threw itself out of the box and into Nanku's skull.

"Somehow she always gets… the short end of that stick," Irantu said.

Nanku awoke to find her vision blurred and speech slurred. "Bwuuuuuuuuuuh," she grunted as she tried and failed to pick herself off the ground.

She assumed the indistinct blobs around her were her comrades. "Whuuuuuuuuuh," she tried.

One blob spoke. "It hit your head. I took it out and put it into the replacement box. You may have brain damage."

As Nanku's brain regenerated itself, she saw more clearly that Munru was holding the ball of knives in the spare box. His hands were lacerated and covered in clotted blood.

Nanku forced herself into a sitting position and slumped back against the wall. "That explains the box," she said.

"I wonder why they want to move it. I also wonder why they chose a truck to move it," Irantu said.

None of them had a satisfactory answer. Nanku reached into her pack, extracting her slang cheat sheet and some writing material. Munru watched her idly.

"What are you writing?"

She looked up. "A novel!"

Munru raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"

Nanku shrugged and put the pen in her mouth. "Me number 39 did a lot of writing. You know, the memory restoring isn't perfect… sometimes I lose stuff. Like writing. I want to… reconnect with her… with me. I want to reconnect with me. " She shrugged again and started chewing on the pen.

"What are you writing about?" Irantu asked.

"Us!" Nanku said excitedly. "And how we killed the Warrior... and our father!"

"Can I see?" Onru asked, reaching for the book. Nanku slapped her hand away. "I'm still writing!"

"What are you going to put in it?"

"Action! Adventure! Deep character moments! Sex!"

"I do not recall any of us… having sex?" Munru said.

"Well, Dirk Pitt always has sex with some… vivacious firebrand," Nanku said, looking proud of herself for not having used her cheat sheet, "so I can't have a thrilling… swashbuckling adventure, without sex in it."

"Wait," Irantu asked, "which of us is going to have sex?"

Nanku shrugged. "I can figure that out later."

Nanku glanced at her cheat sheets. "I'm having… writer's block," she said, stuffing her notebook and pen back into her case. She pulled out her pistol from her holster and stared idly at it. Then she put it away, peeled off her gloves, and started nibbling at her hands.

"This is boring," Onru said. She held the box up to the light and peered at it.

Irantu decided to take charge. "Let's do some… bonding activities."

Munru tilted his head in acknowledgement. "What activities?"

Irantu thought for a moment. "All right. What is your… favorite operation?"

"Operation… Churlish Wendigo," said Nanku, looking up from her fingers. "When we tested the LFOs...? LFOs. I enjoyed the… being able to… move so freely."

"Rolling Thunder," said Munru. "With the handheld railgun prototypes. They were fun to shoot."

"Operation… Morningstar. Those… cherubs? Cherubs. Those cherubs were so squishy and fun to kill," said Onru.

"Operation Thousand Miles. Our first mission," said Irantu.

His comrades cocked their heads.

"Spoken like a squad leader," Onru said, one corner of her mouth curling up near-imperceptibly.

The truck went over another bump, but this time Irantu easily caught the box.

"New question," Irantu said. "What is the… funniest death one of us has had?"

"That's easy," said Nanku. "When they replaced our stoma — our guts — with multi-purpose digestion units! Irantu's ruptured and he got menin… meningo… blood poisoning. They had to put him down because he looked like an eggplant."

Irantu emitted a single soft chuckle. "Okay. When we raided the fire elemental compound in Death Valley. Onru had a shoulder-mounted fire… suppressant launcher. But it exploded. I remember I got hit by chunks of her ribs."

Onru huffed slightly. "We were testing the warding implants. Munru's backfired and… electrocuted him. Even after he was dead he kept twitching like a, a little puppet."

Munru tilted his head. "Wrong. Nanku at the gathering of mages. All those wards, implants, protective spells and nobody thought about guns. She had more holes than… Swiss cheese."

The corners of Onru's mouth tilted upwards. Irantu gave a small snort of laughter. Nanku attempted to make a pouting expression.

Munru looked around the trailer again. "We haven't done operations like that since… the Warrior."

"From killing god… to killing time," Onru said.

"There must be a good reason why we've been stuck inside," said Irantu. "We have been testing several new devices."

"We usually field-test on live targets," Munru said. "This is the first time we have left Site-30 in six months."

"It's so boring," said Nanku. "Six months and no operations. Nothing but the range targets and rats-"

"-and rats just squeak when you kill them," Onru added.

"They don't know what to do with us," Munru said tersely. "Not since we got… more human. Remember what I said after we killed two-nine… the Warrior? I said, 'We will not be cooped up in cells. We will be able to live, and learn, and love, and create.'"

He rolled his eyes. "We were never supposed to."

"Well, we have been testing new equipment…" Irantu trailed off.

Munru snorted. "I think… they know what happened down there, with the Warrior. Maybe they wired us without us knowing. Now they are afraid of us and want to… mothball us."

"The rats cannot have helped," Onru said. She looked archly at Nanku.

"Captain Hughes was reassigned last month. They said she was promoted to head a new… initiative. What if it wasn't? What if they are moving everyone off Tau-5?" Munru asked.

"Just because we haven't had any missions does not mean we are being… mothballed," Irantu said. "We are testing equipment that could save lives when it is ready. We are good at it. We are making the world a better place by doing it. We do the things nobody else can do."

"What are those?" Munru asked angrily. "Killing things and dying? They could send D-Class for those. They could have taken this object and given it to the D-Class. They were supposed to! But they sent a team of, as Nanku puts it, 'crack super-commandoes'. This is no operation. This is a distraction."

Several bullets came through the trailer door.

As was her due, Nanku took most of the shots, grunting from surprise rather than pain. The four of them leapt to their feet.

"Yes yes yes yes yes!" Nanku cheered. "Finally!"

She took two steps forward and then slid towards the door. "Tell me when — "

"The item is the priority," Irantu barked. He glanced at his squadmates, saw their crestfallen looks, and conceded. "…You can deal with the hostiles. I will guard the item." He dropped to his belly and shimmied towards the far end of the trailer with the cube.

The smile back on her face, Nanku shoved the trailer door open and was temporarily blinded by sunlight flooding into the trailer before her ocular implants kicked in to shield her from the glare.

They looked outside to see that they were driving along a winding road high in the mountains. The edge of a cliff was mere meters away, and far below it a sprawling desert underneath a deep orange sky.

About twenty meters behind them were an assorted group of featureless black jeeps and bikes. There were machine guns mounted to the jeeps, and men posted to said guns, while each bike had a passenger with a nasty-looking rifle. All of their assailants wore thick helmets and military-looking gear.

"I count two jeeps and two bikes," Munru said. "You know, I am actually glad we tested this new prosthetic." He gripped his prosthetic thumb with his other hand and carefully made a finger-gun motion at the lead jeep's tires. "Let us make sure my aim has not worsened."

Munru's ocular implants quickly generated a firing solution and overlaid it on a HUD directly in his mind's eye. Ignoring the bullets whistling at, past, and through him, he took a deep breath and then smoothly pulled his thumb back. Inside his arm, the thumb completed a small circuit which immediately began building a massive amount of current through a long, helical ring made of a special thaumaturgically-charged superconducting ceramic. This generated an intensely powerful magnetic field, pulling a small rod-like projectile stored in his arm forward at ridiculously high speed.

The electromagnet disengaged right as the projectile reached the midpoint of Munru's arm. The projectile did not stop, and it kept going, blasting through his middle finger and piercing right through both of the lead jeep's left tires.

The truck swerved around a switchback, narrowly avoiding flying right off the edge. The blown-out jeep and Nanku's knapsack were not so lucky. The jeep crashed through the guard rail and soared off the cliff, while her writing materials soared out of the truck and landed square in the lead bike's sidecar.

Nanku gritted her teeth. "I need to get that back!" She took three steps back, then raced forward and leaped out of the truck towards the bike.

Time stood still, and for a moment she thought she had fatally misjudged her leap. So had the bikers. They were unpleasantly surprised when, through some miracle (of genetically-engineered physical prowess) Nanku landed feet-first on the rear biker's head, knocking her right off her seat and underneath the tires of the oncoming jeep. The lead biker himself was rather surprised by this display of agility, allowing Nanku to put one hand on the handlebars and the other on his chest — knife in hand — before shoving him off.

"Finally finally finally!" she exclaimed, veering towards the other bike. Much to her chagrin, however, its front rider burst into flames just as she pulled alongside it. The bike fishtailed and then crashed into the mountain side of the road; both its riders skidded to a halt, the front one still burning. Nanku looked towards the truck to see Onru waving, the barrel of a CO₂ laser extending from her palm.

The final jeep screeched to a halt. The truck did not, but once they were a few more miles away, it slowed down enough for Nanku to catch up, grab her knapsack, and leap from the bike to the truck where the rest of the squad was waiting.

Munru shut the trailer door. Then he looked back at the squad. "Too easy. Fun and games, right? If this is a distraction, then those were our toys."

"Don't be so paranoid," Nanku said, but her face dropped from glee to uncertainty.

The lightbulb in the trailer flickered some more.

When the truck rolled into Site-45, the four commandos stumbled out of the back of the trailer with Onru holding the anomaly, which was immediately plucked from her grasp by a waiting researcher. While Irantu relayed the details of the mountain chase to the researcher (who did not look at all surprised to hear about it), the rest of Tau-5 took a look around the docking bay.

"I need to stretch," Nanku said, yawning. She glanced pointedly at Munru. "I wonder what people around here do for fun."

"Perhaps we can find a shooting range or people to play cards with," he said, staring back.

"Unfortunately, I don't think you will," said the researcher. She handed Irantu a large metal briefcase. "This contains sensitive equipment that you need to deliver to Amil Escamilla immediately. We'll have to send a team to investigate the people who attacked you; you'll have to take the longer route. Trip shouldn't be more than twenty hours max. Here's a transponder in case you need to contact the driver."

She pointed to a trailer even smaller than the one they had ridden in.

Tau-5's faces fell in unison, but they dutifully climbed into the trailer. The door slammed closed and there was the familiar rumble of the vehicle getting on the road. A single bulb hanging from the ceiling illuminated the corrugated metal floor.

"We weren't backed up," Munru said.

"Because they do not have the facilities to do so!" Irantu said angrily. "Stop saying that we are going to be decommissioned. It needlessly worsens morale. Let's focus on something else. Why don't we play cards?"

The lightbulb went out.

+ TL;DR Good stinger, needs more build-up

- A couple more logs should do the trick

Hippo> The reveal is an excellent one (discovering the site later, with acid damage, corpses, etc), but I feel like it could use a lot more build-up; I also feel like you ought to have the original 'fake' personnel escape/disappear, somehow.
1:46 AM <Hippo> Having them contained/captured makes it feel like the Foundation has some control over this, and the horror here is that the Foundation has zero control
1:47 AM <Hippo> They brushed up against something way bigger than them and it just *ate* a site and *shat out* a new one in its place
1:47 AM <•ARD> Hippo: Agreed with you on the buildup
1:47 AM <•ARD> That's partly what I had in mind with the pilot log
1:47 AM <Hippo> One easy way to have the personnel 'disappear' in a way that feels credible/doesn't feel like a trick: Have the real site discovered *decades* later
1:47 AM <•ARD> Like, the Foundation /detects/ the site's GPS or something in midair over the atlantic
1:47 AM <•ARD> so they send a pilot to investigate
1:48 AM <Hippo> All personnel from Site-18 have, over the years, died from unrelated circumstances — non-anomalous in all cases.
1:48 AM <•ARD> his log is like "yo there's weird fucking shit happening" and then he comes back and he's like "yeah turns out all that weird shit was easily explainable by flying upside down and getting disoriented - but hey I don't know what happened to the site"
1:48 AM <Hippo> The Foundation starts exhuming graves, and finds them empty (might be a little *too* creepy-pasta, but I think it's better than having them all get contained)
1:48 AM <•ARD> Mhm
1:49 AM <•ARD> I honestly think that having the people be totally normal and dying normally
1:49 AM <•ARD> only for the Foundation to find the real people years later
1:49 AM <•ARD> is the creepiest thing
1:49 AM <•ARD> because like
1:49 AM <•ARD> what could even do that
1:49 AM <•ARD> and /why/
1:49 AM <Hippo> Yes. And the sell here is that you tell us this *first*
1:49 AM <Hippo> That they all died non-anomalously
1:49 AM <Hippo> Because that makes us go "oh hey the aliens fucked with them somehow"
1:49 AM <Hippo> "they made them die"
1:49 AM <Hippo> Then we find out they weren't even real
1:50 AM <Hippo> (That might be tricky to pull off tho)
1:50 AM <•ARD> Mmmm
1:50 AM <Hippo> (It's probably fine to have the reveal of them all dying non-anomalously *after* the reveal of the old original site)
1:50 AM <•ARD> I definitely think that what's there is currently strong
1:50 AM <•ARD> It just needs that extra layer
1:50 AM <•ARD> or two
1:51 AM <Hippo> Yeah — the premise is pretty excellent — I think your logs could use some cleaning/reformating to make them look more polished/presentable — and you could do with a bit more build/escalation
1:51 AM <•ARD> Indeed
1:51 AM <•ARD> I want at least two more logs
1:51 AM <•ARD> The pilot log
1:51 AM <•ARD> And the Arachne log
1:51 AM <Hippo> I'd also suggest possibly having an exploration of the old site before we realize it's the old site
1:51 AM <•ARD> Hm
1:51 AM ⇐ Conwell quit (ten.tsacmoc.ap.1dsh.B5BCB892-CRInys|tibbiM#ten.tsacmoc.ap.1dsh.B5BCB892-CRInys|tibbiM) Quit: http://www.mibbit.com ajax IRC Client
1:51 AM <•ARD> Maybe
1:52 AM <Hippo> There's something way creepier about exploring this possibly-related structure, only to find the bodies eaten by acid, and to realize — by some narrative clue — that it's one of the characters we met earlier
1:52 AM <Hippo> And presumed was alive
1:52 AM <•ARD> oh I know exactly how to do that
1:52 AM <Hippo> And that this is the old site
1:52 AM <•ARD> so one of the deals with the Old Site
1:52 AM <•ARD> is that there was literally nothing special about it
1:52 AM <•ARD> they just used it to house all the animals that weren't cool enough to be skips
1:52 AM <•ARD> house pets with human heads and stuff
1:53 AM <•ARD> I mention in footnotes
1:53 AM <•ARD> That there was a talking intelligent dog in the Old Site
1:53 AM <•ARD> I bet I could have the task force find the dog's corpse or something
1:53 AM <Hippo> Oh, yeah. That could do. Particularly since the dog stands out.
1:54 AM <Hippo> *If* possible to do it in a technical way, give the dog a name, and have the stinger being the discovery of the dog, followed by the collar with its name — among several other human corpses, half-eaten by acid.
1:54 AM <•ARD> Mhm
1:55 AM <Hippo> Also I think it's critical that the exploration log of the site (presuming you do that) not reveal that it's Site-18; have the reader only know that it's related to the anomaly, somehow, discovered much later. I'd keep the log short, though, because the longer it is, the more time the reader will have to realize that it's actually the original Site-18
1:55 AM <Hippo> (One fun trick you can use to confuse the reader / make that realization harder: Have the site be found upside down, or on its side, or otherwise altered — basically any sort of red herring that makes the reader think this isn't a site)
1:56 AM ⇐ Randomini quit (edagirb.dawkcud.eht.fo.tnemtraped|eewwow#edagirb.dawkcud.eht.fo.tnemtraped|eewwow) Ping timeout: 183 seconds
1:56 AM <Hippo> (Could be coated in CHITIN or RESIN — heck maybe the site is gone and they just find the bodies in a pit or a cave somewhere)
1:56 AM <Hippo> (Or maybe the site returned, but the beings *in* it were dumped in a pit or cave somewhere)
1:57 AM <•ARD> it's half buried
1:57 AM <•ARD> tilted on its side
1:57 AM <•ARD> in a swamp in India
1:57 AM <Hippo> Haha. That works. You can make it seem like it's an alien ship, then
1:57 AM <•ARD> half digested almost
1:58 AM <•ARD> as if it passed through the bowel of a giant monster
1:58 AM <Hippo> Yeah — I think that's an especially good idea — the notion of it being 'half-digested'.
1:58 AM <•ARD> that was definitely one of the core ideas I had for the ending
1:58 AM <Hippo> Tempted to take it a step further and say all the brain-meats are missing, but that might be *too* much.
1:58 AM <•ARD> with the acid damage
1:59 AM <•ARD> brain-meat specifically is just cheesy
1:59 AM <•ARD> but all of them
1:59 AM <•ARD> just half chewed up and spat out along with everything else
1:59 AM <Hippo> Yeah, I think that could work pretty well xD
2:00 AM <Hippo> One thing I'm surprised you didn't do
2:00 AM <Hippo> Is have an interview with one of the people who came back? If only because it emphasizes the stinger of 'that wasn't them' at the end, more
2:01 AM <Hippo> I don't think it's necessary, I just thought I'd bring it up though
2:01 AM <Hippo> Like there's always a ++ creep factor in meeting someone, then realizing later it wasn't them
2:02 AM <•ARD> I considered it. I tried to avoid it cause I felt that interviews are super played out
2:02 AM <•ARD> but it might be worth reviving for the reason you posited
2:03 AM <Hippo> They are, and that trick is an old one (though I also think it's a good one)
2:03 AM <Hippo> If you do go with that, consider using the dog as your first reveal, and the body of the person interviewed as your second.
2:03 AM <Hippo> Like 'oh shit it's the dog' — 'oh, oh *shit* it's that lady we interviewed, we have a problem'
2:04 AM <Hippo> (That's not necessary, though, and not actually having that second 'mini-reveal' would be fine — there's a chance that the second mini-reveal might feel too forced — it's always a fine line to walk >_>)
2:04 AM <•ARD> yeah
2:04 AM <•ARD> a 2935 style reveal
2:04 AM <Hippo> scp-2935
2:04 AM <•jarvis> hippo: SCP-2935: O, Death (written a year ago by djkaktus; rating: +609) - http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-2935
2:07 AM <Hippo> (Yeah, the more I think about it, the more I think the dog is more than enough — corpses, eaten with acid — reader starts to get that tingly 'oh wait' feeling — then the dog; astute readers will know what's happening by now, while others will be like 'wait wasn't there a dog earlier')
2:07 AM <Hippo> (and the name/collar will hammer it home)
2:08 AM <•ARD> indeedy
2:08 AM <•ARD> without the need for an interview
2:08 AM <•ARD> which I mean, wouldn't be very interesting
2:08 AM <Hippo> Yeah, there's not much to talk about >_> 'Welcome back?' — 'ty'
2:08 AM <•ARD> Cause like, the point of the people coming out is that "wait did something happen"
2:08 AM <•ARD> for them
2:09 AM <•ARD> so an interview is just needless space
2:10 AM <Hippo> I think I would have used the interviews to establish what happened rather than the voice-mail and the witness — but the fact that you already have those in place makes the interviews extraneous, yeah — and I don't think you'd gain much from switching those things out *for* an interview (at least, the gain would be minimal, if any)
2:11 AM <•ARD> plus, tbh, I think the voicemail adds that versimilitude you were talking about with regards to 2419
2:11 AM <•ARD> It's certainly a more unique method of providing exposition
2:11 AM <Hippo> Yeah
2:12 AM <Hippo> I kind of want it to end suddenly mid-sentence, but that might be eeeeh
2:12 AM <Hippo> Oh! You have an easy insert of the name right there
2:12 AM <•ARD> If it ends mid-sentence how can it be sent right
2:12 AM <Hippo> I'd make *Davey* your intelligent sapient border collie
2:12 AM <•ARD> Good idea
2:12 AM <Hippo> I mean it's just a recording; they're calling the voice-mail, and the phone suddenly disconnects
2:12 AM <Hippo> If I smash my phone part-way through leaving a voice-mail the part I left is still there
2:12 AM <•ARD> Is that how voicemail works?
2:13 AM <•ARD> Huh
2:13 AM <•ARD> I did not know that
2:13 AM <•ARD> Cool
2:13 AM <Hippo> I am 95% sure
2:13 AM <Hippo> that's how it works
2:13 AM <Hippo> (Maybe 90% I am not a phone expert >_>)
2:13 AM <•ARD> heh
2:14 AM <Hippo> Also I'd *consider* (tentatively) moving the voice mail excerpt before the interview
2:14 AM <Hippo> On account of the voice mail excerpt providing very little information/being kind of a teaser, while the interview provides more information
2:14 AM <•ARD> Good idea
2:14 AM <Hippo> And you generally want the reader to feel more informed as they read
2:16 AM <•ARD> Yep
2:17 AM <•ARD> Don't want to jump the Gunn
2:18 AM <Hippo> ho ho ho >:
2:18 AM <Hippo> I think that's all I've got, re: crit; it's a solid premise and just needs a good solid exploration log. I'm not 100% sold on your pilot log but I'd have to see it to be certain

+ TL;DR insufficient payoff

- Site-19 disappearing isn't enough

11:42 PM <Jekeled> it's an interesting start, but you're fighting against Site-13 here, and my general advise would be to have an actual final payoff that's worth the buildup
11:42 PM <Jekeled> ARD as opposed to trying to handwave it away into mystery or using an expository note
•ARD> Jekeled: you think maybe using Arachne could help me set it apart from Site-13?
11:46 PM <Jekeled> ARD well, if you need the MTF, use the MTF :P
11:46 PM <Jekeled> Yes, but I also think having a more solid payoff could do that
11:46 PM <Jekeled> 13's payoff was "here's what ACTUALLY happened to site-13"
11:46 PM <Jekeled> If your payoff was something horrifying it could easily set it apart
11:47 PM <WrongJohnSilver> Should I just lock Metacritique?
11:47 PM <•ARD> Jekeled: What I want to do with the log is completely invert all the standard tropes of typical exploration logs - a lot of tension that keeps building. All the jump scares and the like are just red herrings - there's nothing left in the site, the MTF gets out scot-free… and then Site-19 disappears
11:47 PM <WrongJohnSilver> It's spamming the recent posts now.
11:47 PM <Jekeled> ARD yeah, that's interesting…but again, what's the 19 payoff
11:48 PM <•ARD> Jekeled: well, the payoff is supposed to be that "oh shit, it's happening again" and "oh shit, it happened to 19 with iris and bright and the eyepods and literally every single skip on site"
11:48 PM <Jekeled> But again, like, 682's gone, cool
11:48 PM <Jekeled> That's interesting, but once I recognize it exists, so what?
11:48 PM <Jekeled> Sites disappearing is just a fact of life now
11:48 PM <Jekeled> no more foundation
11:48 PM <Jekeled> the world is safer
11:48 PM <Jekeled> yaaaaaay

also, Topographical Specialist Arachne (Å) who is a former member of Mole Rats whose mind was uploaded into a Prometheus Labs bio-organic clone with eight legs that can climb up walls and shit
Jekeled> That's great

ARD> Okay, here's the idea
6:20 PM <Jekeled> yes?
6:21 PM <ARD> It's some kind of dionaea house that's swallowing people up for something - first it swallows the researchers and animals up but then the animals reappear, and then it lures the MTFs in and when they go in, the researchers reappear but are like "uh nothing happened". Then the MTFs are like "oh hey this is weird topographical space" and their cameras cut out
6:21 PM <ARD> and they don't come out so the foundation sends in Arachne, the Mole Rats topographical specialist who is a spider person controlled remotely by a psychic. She comes in, she's like "there's no weird topographical space" and then she doesn't come out but the MTFs do
6:21 PM <ARD> and then the final stinger is that a site full of sentient SCPs has been swallowed up
6:21 PM <Jekeled> I like it, but-
6:21 PM <Jekeled> and not to jerk myself off-
6:21 PM <Jekeled> this is kinda getting into Tower territory
6:22 PM <ARD> Jekeled: I know, I was considering that, but something I want to emphasize is that these people are entirely normal when they come out
6:22 PM <ARD> They got swallowed up, then they came out and were like "we're fine nothing happened" but they're being contained nonetheless
6:22 PM <Jekeled> ok, it's a start
6:22 PM <ARD> From their perspective, they saw a bright light out and then they all went outside and they're being herded into containment cells to make sure nothing goes wrong
6:23 PM <Jekeled> but it still needs an ending kicker
6:23 PM <ARD> HMMMMMMM
6:23 PM <ARD> OK
6:24 PM <ARD> I'll get to work on what I've currently got and then hopefully I'll be able to devise a cunning stinger
6:25 PM <Jekeled> kk

Item #: SCP-3000

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: [Paragraphs explaining the procedures]

Description: SCP-3000 is the collective term for the disappearance of Foundation Site-18 and all personnel onsite, as well as the phenomena associated with Site-18's location and subsequent attempts to locate the missing Site and its personnel. Site-18 was a low-priority Site in the southern region of the Florida Everglades, dedicated to caring for anomalous organisms that did not warrant SCP classification¹. Consequently, it was not considered a priority target for other Groups of Interest. Foundation operatives and liaisons within other Groups of Interest confirmed that there was little to no attention given to Site-18 at the time of its disappearance.

Event Alpha: At 0300 hours on 18/02/████, Site-18 failed the automated hourly check-in. At 0301 hours, Officer Oliver Gunn, the guard stationed outside Site-18 to deter trespassers, phoned the emergency anomaly hotline to report that Site-18 had disappeared in a red flash of light. Attempts to manually contact the Site and its personnel failed, and Mobile Task Forces Alpha-3 ("Honor Guard") and Alpha-4 ("Renter's Insurance") were dispatched to investigate. Upon their arrival at 0800 hours on 18/02/████, they reported that the foundation of the structure was still present, but except for Gunn, neither the facility nor its personnel could be found. Neither task force reported any unusual activity in the surrounding area except for the faint smell of ozone.

The last recorded transmission from Site-18 was a voicemail message sent to Senior Researcher Emma Alvaro from Junior Researcher Tancred Pike, who had been transferred to Site-18 seven days prior to its disappearance. The message was sent at 0258 hours on 18/02/████,

Voicemail from Tancred Pike to Emma Alvaro

02:58 Pike: Hey, Emma, it's Tancred. Uh, listen, I'm, uh, calling about Davey². He's acting kinda weird. Uh, he's like, pawing at the walls and barking like crazy. I dunno, is that normal? Oh, dang, it's not just him. All these guys are going nuts. Jeez, this is creeping me out, haha… Should I like, pet them or something? Just let them do their thing? I don't think this was in the briefing. Uh, oh something weird going on outside please call me back or text me soon as you get this.

Interview with Sgt. Gunn

Date: 2 February, ████

Interviewer: Orvil Brown

[BEGIN LOG]

Brown: Good morning, Officer. I assume you know what we'll be discussing?

Gunn: Of course. Site-18.

Brown: Right. You aren't in trouble or anything - we're just trying to collect as much information as possible. So, would you mind just walking me through what happened? Between 2:30 AM and 3:30 AM.

Gunn: Uh, there isn't much to say before 3 AM. It was pretty quiet, or, you know, as quiet as the Everglades get. Which is to say, not very. Lots of bugs, reptiles, the wind, you know. It's Florida. But, uh, yeah, other than the mosquitoes there wasn't really anything out there. It was like, 2:55 AM? I don't really know the exact time, but it can't have been more than a few minutes before the Site… well, vanished. So, ah, I was lighting a cigarette and then I realized that, you know, it actually was quiet. Quiet quiet, not Everglades quiet. I couldn't hear a damn thing.

Brown: I see. And it was about this time that you observed the red flash of light?

Gunn: Well, it wasn't a flash. I was a bit on edge by then, 'cause there shouldn't be anything that can just up and make the entire wilderness shut up. I even had my safety off - I was worried that it was maybe a Gooey about to raid us so I was about to phone it in to the internal security crew…

Brown: And the flash?

Gunn: Well, uh, at 3 AM sharp all the hairs on my body just stood straight up and I just felt like a ghost had just walked straight through me. I turned to look at the Site and there was just this huge red light in the sky. Looked like a giant red bird almost. I looked up at the light and then I couldn't see anything for a few seconds and when I could see again the Site was just… gone.

Gunn: I slapped myself a couple times to make sure I wasn't hallucinating then called it in. Then I waited at my post till the MTFs showed up. Longest night of my life.

Brown: I see. Is there anything else you'd like to add for the record? Anything, no matter how minor will be immensely useful.

Gunn: Well, ah, there was this funny smell. Sharp, a bit like chlorine actually. And the animals didn't start making noise again till the Task Forces showed up. Other than that, nothing.

Brown: I see. Thank you for your time, Officer.

[END LOG]

Event Beta: On 08/05/████, almost all of the animals being kept at Site-18 abruptly reappeared³ at the Site's former location in the Everglades. They were transferred to other veterinary Sites around the world.

Event Delta: On 16/08/████, Site-18 abruptly reappeared at its former location in the Everglades. Given the possibility of anomalous internal topography, Mobile Task Force Zeta-9 ("Mole Rats") was dispatched to reconnoiter the facility.

+ Exploratory Mission 3000-A

- Close Addendum

Mission Abstract: Perform reconnaissance of Site-18 and report back.

Assigned Task Force: Mobile Task Force Zeta-9 "Mole Rats" (4 members)

Additional Information: The following is a transcript of audio and video recordings captured by MTF Z-9, who were tasked with surveying Site-18. The recording begins outside of Site-18.

[BEGIN LOG]
Z9-A: Alright, boys, stay sharp. Lord only knows what's been going on inside there since it disappeared.
Z9-B: Ten bucks says the place is empty.
Z9-C: You're on.
Z9-D: Can we not?

Z9-A snaps his fingers.

Z9-A: Focus. Let's try the door.

Z9-A produces his copy of Site Director Patton's keycard (procured for the mission) and swipes it through the card reader. The door opens.

Z9-B: Shit, I didn't think that would work.
Z9-C: I was actually kinda hoping we'd get to use the explosives.
Z9-D: Are you serious? Come on.

All four members proceed through the door and into the reception area. The lights are on. Nobody is present. All furniture in the room, including the waiting seats and reception desk, is preset and clean.

Z9-B: Huh. Looks normal enough.
Z9-D: Uh… how could the lights still be working?
Z9-A: Good catch, son. Command, reporting potential anomalies with regard to the electrical system.
Command: We read you, Alpha. Check the reception desk.
Z9-A: Roger that. C, check the desk. B, D, sweep the room.
Z9-C: What? Why do I have to - ah, fuck. Copy that.

Z9-C approaches the desk as B and D make their way around the perimeter of the room. There is a flicker of movement behind the reception desk chair. All members of Zeta-9 bring their weapons up.

Z9-C: Shit! Did you see that?
Z9-A: Safeties off. C, keep going.
Z9-C: If I die, I'm gonna haunt all of you.

Z9-C makes his way around the desk and looks around. There is nothing behind the chair.

Z9-C: Nothing here. You think it was just the chair?
Z9-A: I wouldn't count on it.
Z9-B: Probably just a ghost.
Z9-D: Tch, don't even say stuff like that.
Z9-A: Command, we've swept the reception area. Apart from the electrical system, we have not observed any anomalies.
Command: Understood, Alpha. Proceed with caution.
Z9-A: Roger that. Delta, take point.
Z9-D: Got it.

Z9-D produces his own copy of Patton's keycard and swipes it into the card reader by the reception doors. They open, and -D proceeds into the main hallway.

Z9-D: All clear. Lights are on but the hallway's empty.

The rest of Zeta-9 enter the hallway, which is empty. The ceiling lights are on. The hallway branches at the end, with corridors leading left, right, and straight ahead.

Z9-B: Woof, smells like a swimming pool.
Z9-A: Right, the corridor branches at the end. Left goes to the containment kennels… straight through are the veterinary rooms… right leads to the offices. Let's start with the kennels, see if the animals are there. Delta, take point.
Z9-D: [clicks tongue] Okay.

Zeta-9 moves to the end of the hallway. As they round the corner, an individual is seen walking around the corner at the end of the path towards the kennels.

Z9-D: Hey! Wait! You there! Wait! Can you hear me? …You all saw that guy, right?
Z9-A: I did. Hold on. Bravo, Charlie, head through the vet's rooms. Delta and I will keep going through the kennels. We should be able to intercept or spot him.
Z9-B: Understood. This is creeping me the fuck out.
Z9-C: I hear you.

Zeta-9 split up. Alpha and Delta proceed towards the kennels, while Bravo and Charlie proceed towards the veterinary area. Alpha and Delta round the corner; nobody else is there.

Z9-A: Alright. Looks like he's either in the kennels or the vet rooms. Bravo, Charlie?
Z9-B: Just cleared the first room. Nothing on this end, Cap.
Z9-C: Hallway's still empty… feels like something's watching me.
Z9-A: Understood. We're going to check out the first kennel now. Delta, watch my back.
Z9-D: Yessir.

Alpha opens the door to the first kennel and looks inside; it is empty. The light in the room is still on, though it is flickering.

Z9-A: First kennel's empty. Bravo, Charlie?
Z9-B: Still nothing.
Z9-C: Not a peep.

As Z9-A closes the kennel door, there is a loud thump, followed by a sustained scratching sound.

Z9-D: Fuck! What was that?
Z9-B: Shit, I heard that too.
Z9-C: Sure didn't sound friendly.
Z9-A: Sounds like it's coming from the next kennel. I'll take point.

As Alpha and Delta proceed to the next kennel, the scratching sound becomes faster.

Z9-A: Ready… Now!

Alpha kicks the door to the kennel open and enters. The kennel is empty and the scratching sound cannot be heard anymore. The light in the room is still on, though it is flickering.

Z9-A: What the hell? The room is empty.
Z9-D: What? But I - but you - but the scratching! it was coming from in here!
Z9-A: Whatever it was, it's gone. There's no scratching either.
Z9-B: Charlie and I just finished checking all the vet's rooms and the bathrooms. Nobody here. We're at the end of the vet's hallway - gonna come through to the kennels.
Z9-A: Roger that, Bravo.
Z9-D: Hey… that light, down there. At the end of the hallway. It's off. It was on a minute ago.

Playback of the recording from Delta's camera feed confirms that the corridor light was on before Delta turned to look at the kennels. In the present, the light is on. Z9-B and Z9-C enter the kennel corridor and wave before looking up at the light.

Command: Delta is right - the light was on a moment ago.
Z9-B: Well, it's on now too.
Z9-C: What do you think it was - busted light or spooky ghosts?
Z9-D: Fuck off - that scratching sound was creepy as hell for you too.
Z9-A: Knock it off. Let's keep going.

Zeta-9 proceed to investigate the remaining kennels, all of which are empty.

Z9-A: Okay. There's definitely something anomalous going on. Right, let's check the offices.

Zeta-9 moves to the end of the corridor, passes through the veterinary corridor, and enters the office complex. The lights in the area are flickering.

Z9-A: Okay, let's split up and check the cubicles all the way to the end.

Zeta-9 splits again, with Bravo and Charlie checking the left cubicles while Alpha and Delta check the right cubicles.

Z9-D: Hey - the light behind us. At the end of the hallway. It's shut off.

Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie's camera feeds confirm this.

Z9-A: Hmm. Keep an eye on them.
Z9-B: These cubicles're empty.
Z9-D: Uh… another one just shut off.
Z9-A: Keep moving.
Z9-D: And another one…!

As Zeta-9 proceeds through the office complex and confirms that all cubicles are empty, the lighting steadily continues to fail.

Z9-D: It's getting closer…
Z9-B: Okay, we got it. It's spooky.
Z9-A: Calm down. We're back at the beginning of the hallway. There's nothing here. Reconnaissance is finished - let's go.

At that moment, all lights in the complex fail. The cameras are unable to detect anything.

Z9-A: Stay calm. Put on your night-vision goggles and snap open the glowsticks.
Z9-B: Uhh… Cap? My goggles aren't working.
Z9-C: Mine too.
Z9-D: Do you guys hear that?

A low skittering sound can be heard, coming from the end of the corridor and growing louder.

Z9-A: I hear it. Let's go. Hands on the walls. It's a right and a left back to reception.

No sounds can be heard for the next several seconds beyond the skittering sound and Zeta-9's footsteps.

Z9-D: Where's the left? There's supposed to be a left.
Z9-A: Relax. Any second now.
Z9-B: It shouldn't be taking this long to find a goddamn left. Right, Charlie?

There is no response from Charlie, though his camera is still functioning. The skittering sound abruptly becomes louder; Charlie's camera simultaneously ceases to transmit.

Command: Be advised, Charlie's camera is no longer transmitting.
Z9-D: Fuck… Oh Christ I think it got louder.
Z9-A: Steady. Panic'll get us all killed.
Z9-B: It's already looking like that, innit?
Z9-D: This is a right… another right… another right… Where's the goddamn left?
Z9-A: Steady! Must be a spatial anomaly.
Z9-B: Wait! There's a left here.
Z9-A: Perfect. Let's -

At that moment, Alpha's camera ceases to transmit. The skittering becomes louder.

Z9-D: Let's…? Captain? Captain!
Z9-B: Goddamnit, start running!

Bravo and Delta start to run. The skittering sound increases in frequency.

Z9-B: Shit, it's gaining on us. Wait - we're in the reception area! Door must be straight ahead! Come on come on come on!

The sound of a door opening can be heard. At that moment, Bravo and Delta's cameras cease to transmit.
[END LOG]

At the exact moment that Bravo and Delta's cameras failed, the main and emergency entrances to Site-18 opened and all personnel who had been lost in the initial event proceeded to emerge. All individuals present believed that the time was 3 AM on the date of the Site's disappearance, and expressed disbelief when informed of the events that had occurred. All individuals reported the same events:

the animals within the site began acting oddly;
A bright red light suddenly began shining from outside;
A powerful earthquake occurred, at which point an evacuation order was broadcast;
All personnel proceeded to evacuate the structure, at which point they encountered the Foundation personnel investigating SCP-XXXX.⁴

All individuals from Site-18 were promptly mandated into containment in Site-19; subsequent examination, including thaumaturgic and psionic, could find no anomalies or abnormalities, so all personnel were released and allowed to return to their positions.

+ Exploratory Mission 3000-B

Event Epsilon: On 26/11/████, while eradicating an infestation of SCP-2810 near Sambhar Lake in Rajasthan, India, Mobile Task Force Lambda-12 ("Pest Control") came across a Foundation structure identified as Site-18, which was in extreme disrepair and showed signs of acid damage and damage from some large animal. Lambda-12 investigated the structure and discovered the remains of all personnel from Site-18 who had initially disappeared during Event Alpha, as well as the survey team from Zeta-9 and Topological Specialist Arachne. All remains showed signs of acid damage and predation; however, the signs of predation could not be matched to any wildlife native to the area. Furthermore, Lambda-12 reported that all wildlife in the area avoided the site. The task force reported no other unusual activity in the surrounding area except for the faint smell of ozone. All personnel in Site-18, as well as the four members of Zeta-9 who initially surveyed Site-18, have been placed back into containment for indefinite evaluation and he remains inside the building have been brought to Site-19 for examination. The structure near Sambhar Lake is currently under observation by Mobile Task Force Alpha-4 ("Renter's Insurance").

Re-record audio, re-do video

Item #: SCP-2793-J

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2793-J is contained in a High-Security cell in Site-420 with four floor-to-ceiling television screens and surround sound speakers playing the following video on an infinite loop. If any of the screens break or any of the speakers fail, two D-Class personnel trained in the arts of sick freestyles and dope beats must be dispatched to contain SCP-2793-J. If they fail, Overwatch Command must be notified of an imminent OG-Class End-of-World Scenario.
Further information about SCP-2793-J is limited to the following video due to its memetic properties.

Description:

+ Lyrics

- Hide lyrics

Ess See Pee 2-3-9-3
Object class Keter I don't care what it means
I'm a psycho MC dropping murderous beats
Using rhyme and rhythm to contain this beast

Gotta be a D-Class, best Em-Cee class
To keep it behind glass, rhymes gotta be crass
I'll even get a free pass to fuck this thing in the ass

I'm a killer, I'm vicious, my heart is stone cold
Been dropping beats longer than the skip been old
It's a menace to society or so I'm told
Guess what - in that category I take the gold

The Jesse Owens of violence
Versus a skip that plays violins
Upon its head I keep piling'
Containment raps I'm free styling'
I'm ahead but ain't even tiring - this thing has gotta be 'miring
How its music is dead - but all my cylinders firing

Ess See Pee 2-3-9-3
Object class Keter I don't care what it means
I'm a psycho MC dropping murderous beats
Using rhyme and rhythm to contain this beast

You're a tulpa, a thought form, sprung from the mind
Of all the millions of pe-ople who all thought in kind
A baroque composer looking like a ghostly pork rind
Music bad enough to make my EARS go blind

Fall under ya spell, and people spread all ya evil
Plus that music from hell, complete with locusts and weevils
Are you the devil, pray tell? Are you Beelzebub's sequel?
It doesn't matter - I'm a rap god. Bitch, I'm your equal!

Brag about my style cause it's an easy way to hurt ya
Diss your whole family - your mother, she's a squir-tah
I was raised on the streets - I know exactly how to burn ya
If you were alive, then Jesus would want you murdered

And here's the thing - the people think you hate rap
Any kind could give your ecto-ass a heart attack
So once you come across the bass and the beats that I stack?
Well, my raps just blast this motherfucking XK back

Ess See Pee 2-3-9-3
Object class Keter I don't care what it means
I'm a psycho MC dropping murderous beats
Using rhyme and rhythm to contain this beast

I'm a hard hitting gangsta, straight from Santa Anna
Killed twenty mothafuckas, one with a coat hanger,
I ain't scared of no ghosts, I'm a real busta
Explode on its face with these raps like fruit gushers!

Layin' down a verbal barrage - so many ways to disparage
This mental miscarriage that's as pathetic as Nigel Farage
Just call me Ray Stantz cause it can suck on my undercarriage
plus my foot and its ass are engaged: shotgun marriage

This ain't free style
This is me style
This is THE style - makes the ladies want the D style.

TRACK: Ghost Party by Coolzey

randomini vid

thoughts:

I'd appreciat if this was accompanied by a transcript so I could follow along
ou seemed to have some breathing issues during the Jesse Owens verse
The pause before "makes the ladies want to D style" felt overstretched
Mmm, some of it was v cramped
my critique is that some of the verses sound a bit mumbled
I think the audio track could use some…
10:52 PM softening?
10:52 PM I can't hear the words at times
10:52 PM when the woooos kick in

Ess See Pee 2-3-9-3
Object class Keter I don't care what it means
I'm a psycho MC dropping murderous beats
Using rhyme and rhythm to contain this beast

Gotta be a D-Class, best Em-Cee class
To keep it behind glass, rhymes gotta be crass
I'll even get a free pass to fuck this thing in the ass

I'm a killer, I'm vicious, my heart is stone cold
Been dropping beats longer than the skip been old
It's a menace to society or so I'm told
Guess what - in that category I take the gold

Ess See Pee 2-3-9-3
Object class Keter I don't care what it means
I'm a psycho MC dropping murderous beats
Using rhyme and rhythm to contain this beast

This ain't free style
This is me style
This is THE style - makes the ladies want the D style.

Gordon sat straight up, immeasurably distressed to awaken and find that he was alive and breathing. This could only mean that something had gone horribly wrong. The last thing he remembered was hitting the switch on the machine that was supposed to disassociate his incorporeal soul from his mortal body.

Clearly, that had gone bugger-all.

Things got worse when he realized that he was several inches taller, black, and wearing an orange jumpsuit.

Well, it kind of worked, he thought to himself, bollocks.

Gordon had no idea whose body he was in - clearly it was a D-Class, but otherwise it could've been anyone.

Alright, he began planning. "I'm not in my original body. That must mean I was able to disassociate myself. But if I ended up in a different body, it means that my soul automatically placed itself into… an empty shell? Wait what happened to this guy? Must've been a skip… Whatever. Alright, here's what I'm going to do. All I've got to do is kill myself.

He scanned the room. He was sitting on the top bunk of a bed, in a bare white cell with a single fluorescent light in the ceiling and a toilet and sink. He leaned over the bunk and saw a scrawny Japanese man in the bunk below him. Poking out from the man's pillow was the sharpened handle of a toothbrush.

Gordon hesitated. Then he hemmed and hawed. It was one thing to disassociate one's mind and body with a transcendental amplifier; it was quite another to commit suicide with a toothbrush shiv.

Thankfully, the problem was solved when the Japanese man started and rolled into the bedframe. The shiv fell out of the pillow and onto the ground, and then Gordon, already half hanging over the edge, fell over completely and got a toothbrush in the brainstem.

Much to his chagrin, Gordon woke up again. This time he was in the body of a scrawny Japanese man. In his consternation, he rolled over and struck his head against the bedframe.

A small object fell out of his pillow, and then a large object fell off the bunk above him.

Still cradling his head, Gordon leaned over the bed to see a black man lying on his back.

Tentatively, he rolled the body over. There was a toothbrush sticking out of the man's neck.

"D-8473, how do you feel?"

"Um, I need to die. I really have to die -"

"Exactly!" Dr. Aeslinger cut him off. "We dehumanize these men, women, and others and treat them like so much filth that in just a month's time, they themselves begin to believe themselves as just so much worthless detritus, fit for nothing but death."

She pointed to Gordon. "Though we may call 8473 by a number, that doesn't make him worth any less than you or me. No matter what they were before they arrived, they are certainly not disposable. D-Class personnel are soldiers who put their lives on the line every day so that we may advance the science of containment and keep humanity safe. They deserve better."

Aeslinger pointed to the screen behind her, which lit up and displayed the words

"D-CLASS RIGHTS INITIATIVE"

" The D-Class Rights Initiative is a new program spearheaded by the Ethics Committee to advance better working conditions, rights, and safety protocols for D-Class personnel. This includes mandated break rooms, counseling, and better quarters."

One D-Class in the audience asked, "Does this mean you're going to use our names from now on?"

Aeslinger scoffed, looking positively offended. "Of course not. Just because we're treating you like people doesn't mean we're going to treat you like people."

ACT III: BORN JUST IN TIME TO BROWSE DANK MEMES

Everything was going swimmingly for Gregory, assuming that by swimmingly we meant completely nonswimmingly. Opposite of swimmingly. Nonswimmingly. Drowningly. Yes, everything was going drowningly for Gregory. Within five minutes of getting his first task he'd managed to fuck it up royally.

His robot companion was cheerfully unaware of this.

"How are you, Smooth G? Like the nickname? I'm trying out cool friend names. Rank it between 1 and 5 real quick?"

"Uh," Gregory started…

[INTERMISSION]

Suddenly Gregory was falling into a glowing yellow vortex. He was spit out into a great white void.

"GREGORY," a great, soothing voice boomed out.

Gregory was too surprised to speak. His mind tried to make sense of what was happening and then gave up and started imagining pornography instead. It was easier.

"GREGORY, WE ARE YOU. WE ARE THE INFINITE. WE SENSE THAT A GREATER POWER HAS PULLED YOU HERE. THIS TERMINAL IS NOT YOURS. YOU ARE NEEDED ELSEWHERE. BEWARE. THEY AMASS ON THE EDGES OF OUR REALITY."

The booming voice gave him a sense of peace and ease that he would never come close to achieving ever again in his life time.

And then Gregory was back inside the void.

He was spat out onto a massive spherical room. Tiers of command cloisters ringed the lower hemisphere, lit with golden banks of computer displays. At the south pole, a gigantic statue of a six-armed angel bore a shimmering map of the galaxy on its electrum shoulders. Vast, stained-smartglass windows filled the gaps between the towering diamond-coated granite columns that arched up to the vaulted ceiling and its interwoven constellation frescos.⁵

Gregory did not notice any of that. What he did notice were four cybernetically enhanced human females with animal-like features and one conspicuously ragged-looking male looking rather surprised at their unintentional stowaway.

Gregory stared at them.

They stared at Gregory.

The SCPS Solidarity stared at the incomprehensibly horrible Overseer.

The Overseer stared at the spaceship.

A lot of staring went on.

Suddenly, Gregory was yanked out of the spaceship and into a glowing yellow void as the spaceship started breaking the laws of physics for the sake of a happy, if heavily clichèd ending.

The five protagonists of some other tale silently agreed to assume that it was some sort of mass hallucination, because the whole thing reeked of some poorly-written crossover literary masturbation.

Meanwhile, Gregory was consumed by the void. Lost in it. Floating in it. Absorbing it. Then he fell out of it and crashed into the floor like a sack of bricks.

"Oh shit I'm here!" came a voice. Gregory groaned to himself as he was pulled up by… himself.

"What the…" he muttered to himself.

"Okay, Gregory. Uh, uh, uh, look. Um, this is really weird for me too, okay? Just, um, stay calm! I know, because I'm you! Heh, um, yeah, just stay calm. Okay? I don't have too much time to explain. Look man, you're in another universe right now?"

Gregory looked up into the eyes of his doppelgänger.

"Wait, you're me?"

"Yeah! Look, we don't have too much time before the author writes you into some other universe and if I know him - which I do, because he is me - he'll be writing you into some other universe in a couple minutes."

"Author? What? What's going on? Where am I?" Gregory asked himself.

"This is terminal number 322! We're meta!"

"Meta?"

"Look, don't think too much about it. Just hold out for like three or four more universes then you'll be back in your own universe. Um, that blast from your robot knocked you out of sync with your terminal; your atoms are trying to auto tune themselves to find the correct one. You've already ended up in a couple different terminal and some other canon by accident. Also, don't freak out, but there's a prophecy in place and we're at the center of it… This sounds weird, and I'd tell you more, but it's shitty planning, there's a deadline coming up, and everything's being retconned and rewritten as I say it. Look, you're already being written out of this one! Just stay calm! The rest of us should have more info!"

Gregory fell away from himself into the void. He emerged into a great, massive desert. A single, solitary sun gleamed in the burnt orange sky. Gregory looked around and realized that wherever he had landed, it was definitely the wrong place. Actually, it looked a lot like the Terminal. Except for the tiny men. Gregory did a double take.

Thousands of tiny Dubbligands stared up at him, none more than a few centimeters tall.
As one, they fell to their knees and chanted "HAIL, SEXIEST AND CLEANEST SHAVEN OF DUBBLIGANDS!"

"What the fuck…" he murmured to himself.

Behind his little fan club, Gregory could make out rows upon rows of portals, through which all manner of even more fantastic and bizarre creatures passed through. Suddenly his hair was on fire.

Gregory threw himself to the ground and rolled, attempting to extinguish the flames.
The flames wanted no truck with it.
With most of his hair missing and nothing but the smell of scorched protein to show for it, Gregory stumbled to his feet and dusted himself off. Then he looked up.

He was staring up at an enormous wooden effigy of himself, dozens of meters tall and being consumed by flames. Indeed, as Gregory looked up at the effigy, he realized that there was a viewing deck of sorts at the top.

The effigy crumbled as the flames licked it up. The effigy began to crumble, and Gregory dove out of the way as it collapsed on top of him. He heard thousands of tiny voices scream "SALVATION!" before they were swallowed up in a wooden holocaust.

Gregory stared agape at the carnage: tiny versions of himself exalted as they burned to death.

From the wreckage of the effigy, two copies of himself crawled towards him, slightly larger than his melted acolytes, but still only about twenty centimeters tall. Gregory just stared.

His copies struggled towards him as their skin sloughed off and their organs blazed. Gregory twitched slightly as they touched his shoes.

With their last breaths, his two copies gasped out, "Hail… cleanest shaven of us all… we bear…. a message."

They paused in a completely useless attempt to force air into their lungs, which Gregory could see through the burning flesh. He whimpered.

"Beware… oh shaved one… They come… … but they are us… Warn your world… Hail…" the two clones whispered in unison before expiring from blood evaporation.

Gregory had just watched himself die a thousand times over and he didn't even have time to register the emotional trauma when the vortex opened up again and he was dumped into yet another terminal.

It was shiny. Very shiny. Shiny as… honestly nothing could compare. It was like walking on a mirror - everything reflected, down to the whites in Gregory's eyes and the ever-increasing darkness and nihilism in his soul. Honestly, what he needed was a good stiff drink - barring that, enough cocaine to make Rick James shake his head.

Apart from that, though, everything was bright, shiny, and hurt his eyes, down to the humanoid-shaped gas clouds and then Gregory's brain registered the meaning of that sentence.

"Hi," said one of the gas clouds. It coalesced into a duplicate of Gregory.

"….H - hi…" Gregory whimpered.

"You went to the cult terminal." It was not a question. "Yeah, they'll do that to you - or for you, I guess. It gets easier after a while, trust me."

"…Gets easier?"

"Yeah. You're not the first or the last to show up. There were other Gregory's before, and there'll be other Gregory's later. Just go with it."

"And… you're me, right?"

"Of course. I'm a version of you that transcended all physical form and achieved omniscience. Everything in this terminal did. I just took on this form to talk. Think of me as your conscience. Or your phonological loop. Whatever makes this easier for you."

Gregory looked around him. It was shiny, but that was all. They were inside a vast, empty chamber. He couldn't even tell where the walls began and the floor ended. It was just a smooth, reflective surface. Like they were suspended in midair.

"So… how's-"

"It sucks."

"I didn't even -"

"Omnisicience."

"…"

"Roast the cocaine, it's better than boiling. Trust me on this one. Also, this may be helpful. There's a lot of worlds out there that have noticed our little corner of the multiverse. Not parallel universes or even perpendicular ones. Hyperbolic ones. Elliptical ones. Kinematic ones. The ugly ones. All of them have taken a liking to the terminals, and they'll kill for the technology inside them. I don't know too much, but there's supposedly a prophecy involved that will help us stop them. It's probably not a prophecy, per se, but I heard it from Gregory 8133. You're at the core of it. There's something you, Gregory 100,000, need to find."

"What -"

"I don't know what it is or what it looks like or anything about it. All I know is that you need to find something."

"But aren't you-"

"My ability to know all there ever was or will be only extends into this reality and its time stream. Since you're in it, I know what you're going to do and what will happen. Whatever it is you need to find, it's not in this universe. Good luck."

Suddenly Gregory was yanked into the swirling yellow void.

And then he was back in his own universe, lying face-down on the shiny tile floor.

Gregory looked into the numerous insect eyes of Professor Hubert Fry.

"Dr. Plump! What on earth is going on? Where have you been? This is a disaster on a major scale!" Fry ranted.

Gregory groaned as he forced himself to his feet. As he looked around the terminal, he beheld a scene of devastation. The terminal was half-destroyed. Everything in the terminal was staring at him, mostly with fear and hatred.

Imagine for a moment being the most hated thing in a room of five hundred people. Everyone is staring at you with trepidation, or disgust, or like you're a large rat that's been eating their food and defecating in their refrigerator. Honestly, most dictators couldn't even claim that much hatred. But Gregory was neither a dictator nor a rat. He was very scared, very traumatized, very confused, and very scared (it brokered mentioning twice).

So was everyone else, though. As might be expected at this point, things failed to improve when the remaining portals in the terminal flashed and crackled.

As everything turned and looked on, the portals ripped free from their electromagnetic bearings and coalesced into a massive super portal.

From the super portal emerged Gregory. Then another Gregory. Then a third. Then a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth, and a seventeenth, and forty-sixth, and one hundred-twenty-fifth, and still more, until several thousand Gregory's of various shapes, sizes, temperaments, intelligences, and colors were packed in the terminal.

They were all dressed in armor and carrying weapons.

At the head of the army emerged a single Gregory with - what else - an eyepatch for three of his eyes. The other three were arranged in a triangle pattern on his face and shoulders.

Inner-eye Gregory took a good look at the terminal. He smiled, took a deep breath, and proclaimed, "Hello all. Our name is Gregory, and we are here to take over."

breach and clear tactics

they use a 7.62mm heavy battle rifle based on the M240 but with a shorter barrel and selective fire, using drum magazines with an integral 40mm grenade launcher based on the Striker AGL. The AT trooper also carries a SMAW or maybe even something smarter. The MG trooper carries either a belt fed version of the rifle or a an AGL depending on the mission.

1st the worst 2nd the best 3rd the nerd

/mode #Channel +o nick

god dialogue font

Footnotes

SCP Sandbox Wiki II

Sandbox Harder

Other interesting sites

Kingsway EAP

Racing Cars

Procedural Content Generation Wiki

Newton North Science Team