Dell'oro - SCP Foundation

After hours of struggle, with his motor cortex damaged and with the help of a walking stick, he had finally made it to the location the sticky note given to him suggested.

His headache was still unbearable, but he had gotten accustomed to it since he had no other option. Now, he was in a very unpopulated area of the city; everything was calm and quiet. And what stood before him was a silhouette that he first thought he was hallucinating; he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger to assure himself, but the figure was still there.

Alan opened his mouth to speak, but he was immediately cut off by the figure, “You've finally arrived; we've been waiting for you.” The echo in its voice was unlike anything that could occur in an open area.

“I don't know who or what you are, but I was called here.” Alan replied, keeping himself on alert for anything that could possibly happen. He didn't necessarily feel threatened, but his intuition told him that this entity had some kind of supernatural power.

“My alias goes by Apsel; I am usually not involved in the schemes of Nobodys, but I was told I was a necessity this time.” Small pause. “If you can remember, this is not the first time we met.”

“Huh…?” Alan tried to go back and visualize his memories, but the constant memory wipes and amnesic usage were not favoring him in the slightest. “All I can remember is just standing inside a small house with a sticky note inside my hand; anything else beyond that is just… void.”

Apsel didn't respond; he stayed steady in his place, but Alan could see he was doing something. Then, abruptly, a sphere emerged from Apsel, reshaping the entire cosmos; reality shifted as the images became unfamiliar, and then it was reassembled. Now they were both standing in an infinitely empty realm with only one building behind Apsel.

As soon as Alan saw that building, his eyes widened; he didn't know anything about this building, he didn't possess any memories about this building, and yet, he felt déjà vu, as if he had been here before. His mind, with all the efforts, tried to remember anything about this building, but he was only met with the bullet wound on his forehead suddenly strengthening.

“Ugh…”

“Don't try too hard; they will tell you everything once you're in.” The figure said, before instantaneously disappearing out of thin air, leaving Alan alone in this soulless, soundless, motionless dimension.

“I don't like this already…” He whispered to himself before approaching the building and standing in front of the staircase that led to the entrance door. “God damn it.”

…

After spending 20 minutes to ascend through 10 steps of stairs with a walking stick, he finally reached the door of the building. He reached out to the doorknob and twisted it, unlocking the door. He swung it open, being greeted by the calming sensation of The Hub. Except for the ungodly amount of cigarette smokes and smells.

He passed through the seats located at both sides of the entrance, walking around aimlessly, not really knowing what to do here, before he heard a loud whistle that attracted his attention.

“Over here!” Said the bartender, who was accompanied by the silhouette entity from before, who now had a black cat on his lap and a different Nobody. Well, everyone was a Nobody here except himself. This all felt awfully familiar to him. Alan approached the three, who he could tell were waiting for him.

While he was getting closer, though, he noticed something. There was a very faint blood mark on the right wall, right next to the stool, which was placed close to the said wall. He stared at the blood mark, putting a hand on the wound on his forehead.

“I got shot here?!“ He thought to himself as his heart skipped a beat, this alone was enough for his mind to create very, very, very blurry images of those memories he was supposed forget, he couldn't pinpoint how it exactly happened, but he knew for sure he was supposed to die here.

“You are correct,” he replied. “You've been here before. Come, take a seat.”

Alan took his seat, highly suspicious. “What am I called here for?” He kept his calm to be as formal as possible.

“Apsel, do your thing.” The bartender commanded, despite the metaphorical mask he was wearing, Alan could see a grin behind it. But Alan was a man of his morals, he didn't want to instantanously accuse him of a evil ringmaster or any of sorts. He could guess the bartender had a play in these events, but he wanted to give him a chance.

“Stand still.” Apsel said, whose hand glowed green with an outline. He put his index finger on the wound, and with that—although not visible due to the bandage—Alan felt the wound heal up, including the fractions of the brain the bullet had destroyed.

Alan didn't feel any pain, but what he did feel was the physical movements of his flesh and skull regenerating under the bandage that was wrapped around his head. He couldn't really put it in words how it felt; it was weird, disgusting, relieving, and hurting, all at once. But once the gap was closed, Alan felt like he just took a fresh air after standing under cigarrate smoke for hours. A refreshing feeling that he would come to appricate.

Apsel withdrew his touch, creating a small space for Alan to feel comfortable. "Try walking now," he said. His voice was rather emotionless, but Alan could tell the intention behind it: to help him out.

Alan carefully stood up from the stool and landed on his feet; he held tightly to his walking stick, thinking he would collapse down like he did the last four times while making his way here. But to his surprise, he was steady; his legs didn't immediately bend and fail him; they stood up strong and assured. Surprised, Alan took his first step, no reaction, but careful. He took another, this time feeling a small amount of energy and determination burst throughout his soul.

He stopped leaning into the walking stick, but still kept it by his side. He took one step, and then another, and then one more, until he could walk like a normal human again once more. He felt amazing, excited, hopeful. As if a crippled man who spent his life in wheelchair finally regained his ability to walk.

A smile, manifesting from his excitement, reached up to his ears. “Thanks a lot for that,” he said, looking at Apsel with a look of gratitude. But behind those eyes lay more than just simple gratitude; as far as his memories went, this was the first good thing somebody had ever done in this hour-long life.

"It's not over yet, though." Apsel spoke, this time with his hand glowing gray rather than green. Alan approached and allowed the process to repeat itself, but this time, with the touch of Apsel's hand, all of his memories, from the moment he met The Boss until the moment he was nursed by Nobody, flooded back into his consciousness in an instant.

He was stunned, a little gasp escaped from his lips as he processed everything as soon as they entered. But still, the memories were rather contradictory, as if he was given both true and false memories about his entire life.

"You're our scout now, Alan." The bartender said, pushing a hidden button beneath the table. The ground close to the bartender's table was automatically lifted, and something from within rose up; it was a hanger tied to a pole that was attached to both ends of the square floor.

“So, The Boss decided that you should look different from us. What's your full name?” Bartender said.

“Uh… my full name is… Alan…" He tried to think, going through all the true and false memories, but leading to nothing. In none of these memories was he ever called by his surname—if he ever had one, that is. "Hmm… Alan Dell'oro, yeah, that sounds fitting.”

The bartender nodded to Apsel. Apsel extended his arm towards the hanger, and his entire body started to glow with a purple light. With that, a cloth started to manifest on the hanger; at first it was purely purple without features, but as it faded away, it revealed a shiny and yellow trench coat.

“… Is that gold?” Alan asked, not believing his eyes.

“Yes.” The bartender replied immediately.

“Real, pure gold?” Alan wanted to assure himself.

“Yes—”

“I'm in.”

Alan opened his arms wide, looking down on himself as the golden clothing shined brightly with the reflections of the lights around him. He was happy, not because he was hungry for money or anything, but because this was the first time someone had given him something special only for him. Something, as far as his memories could go, his wife didn't do.

“I like this a lot, really,” he said, swinging his left arm up and down, feeling no weight on it—as well as his entire body—whatsoever. ”Although this feels just like normal clothing.”

“It's made like that, as shiny and bright as gold, but as light and flexible as leather.” The bartender replied, leaning onto the table a bit while Apsel's cat jumped out of his lap and onto the table. "Meow."

“I also gave you immunity to anti-memetics," Apsel added. "So it will be easier for you to cooperate with them."

“… What's an anti-memetic?” Alan tilted his head, but from the name alone, he could deduct this was something assosicated with the nature of Nobodys.

“Let's just say you will be able to remember us from now on. Here, your first mission.” The bartender opened up a drawer, reached out to grab a few things, and closed it back. He presented them on the table. A few pictures of site-35 and a single picture of 05-9.

“Remember the Nobody that shot you in the head? He's a new one among us and is considerably bad at his work. I have been giving him direct and indirect lessons from time to time. He has been commissioned by The Boss to infiltrate SCP Foundation's site-35 at the moment, but it should take him exactly 2 hours and 27 minutes to even arrive there first, so we can kill some time.”

Alan shrugged it aside; he wouldn't mind spending a few more minutes in here; he already felt comfortable being here, except for the ungodly amount of cigarettes. He turned around as the anti-memetic immunity finally started to improve his perception and became capable of actually seeing the Nobodys in detail—their hands, their posture; anything that is considered direct perception was now possible to Alan. Except for the faces; they were either blurred, non-existent, or just glitched.

He turned his head to his right, seeing a new Nobody sitting only one stool away from his own stool. He was sure he wasn't there a minute ago; he could guess some Nobodys have stronger anti-memetic properties than others.

“Whoa, you were always there?” Alan asked, taking a step back, surprised.

“Yeah.” Nobody replied.

Small pause.

“Well, since we're talking about killing time, look what I found at Site-19.” Nobody bent down to his right and inserted his hand on a bad and then pulled out a small machine and put it on the table. This machine looked like it was made out of metal, colored gray, with a few buttons on its left and a start button at its top, a floating energy ball at its core held inside a glass pipe. At its behind, there were two earphone-looking cables, but the tip had nothing on them.

“What's this?” Alan asked.

“This is a little reality-warping machine that turns your visualizations into a real thing. One issue is that this thing apparently needs to be connected to the noosphere itself to power itself, which I have no idea how to do.”

“Why did you steal it?”

“I believe this could help us in our resources; we just need to figure out how to connect it to the noosphere.”

“Oh, and what's a noosphere?”

“… The noosphere is the thought realm—everything a human brain can biologically contain from the past, present, and future is held within there and reflected to the universes below and given to the humans.”

The bartender chuckled. “I know this is going to be challenging to believe for someone like you, Alan.”

”At this point, I am inclined to believe everything.” Alan weakly shook his head, silently chuckling at himself.

”I believe I can help with it,” Apsel said. ”I think my powers should be more than enough for that.” Apsel stretched his arm in the direction of the machine, causing it to emit a purple glow. As he did so, the machine began to activate on its own. The core at the center started to vibrate as the energy went through it.

Nobody, seeing his opportunity, grabbed the thin white cables and taped them to the sides of Alan's head.

”Hey! What do you think you are—”

”Now, it should be good to go. Let's see, try to imagine a football.”

Alan, who was shocked from the unannounced action, calmed himself down and followed the request. The machine recognized the brainwaves as they were transmitted from the cables to the processor, then an ordinary football manifested in front of the four but immediately collapsed into itself.

”I—uh, did I do that right?” Alan asked, not breaking his line of sight to not send unnecessary signals to the machine.

”You forgot about the Planck length; remember, when you are creating something, you need to imagine it down to its smallest of details. Now, try again.”

Then, Alan tried to visualize the ball again, but this time, up to the atoms, the Planck lengths, the superstrings, and the spatial dimensions it requires, and now, the ball manifested again, and this time, it was stable and coherent.

”Now that's the right way to do it.”

Alan took the cables off his head while the bartender clapped his hands in congratulation.

”Is that real now?” Alan asked, looking at the soccer ball he just created with his mind. Nobody stood up from his stool and picked up the ball and then bounced it a few times on the ground.

”Seems real enough to me.” He said, spinning the ball on the tip of his index finger.

Then, the bartender coughed behind them to get their attention. "Let's get a bit serious, men. The Boss would get angry if we went off the tracks too much." He said, voice semi-cold.

”…Yes, sir.”

”Ok.”

”Sure.” Nobody went back to his stool with the ball held in his hands.

”There's something I have to give you, Alan.” The bartender said, reaching into his pockets.

”What is it, sir?” Alan raised an eye brow.

The bartender snapped his fingers, and it echoed through the building; as it did, everyone in the building went dead silent.

The bartender pulled out a golden pocket watch and raised it up to the air for everyone else to see. ”For this decision requires the input of all of us,” said the bartender loudly, voice assertive and hard. ”I ask all of you, should we give this watch to Alan Dell'oro?”

"Yes."

"He deserves it."

"He has earned it."

"It's for his own good."

—were among a few of the answers given by the collective, it was a one big "Yes."

The bartender lowered his hand, now outstrected towards Alan, non-verbally suggesting him to take it.

”This watch allows you to fake your death every half an hour; it leaves a fake corpse on the scene, which disappears when the watch is charged again. There are only 6 of these in the universe. This will be very helpful for the future.”

Alan took it from the bartender's hand; it only complemented his already gold set of clothes and arsenal. But from something like this, Alan could guess that he was going on a mission that wouldn't be easy if he had to fake his death in a very precise manner.

”The Nobody that shot you in the head, whom we have numbered as '12' among us, is on a quest to capture a book that changes reality by altering the logical system of the reality, and he plans to use it so that he can cheat his way through the learning process.”

”How… do you know that?”

”I don't. The Boss does.”

A small silence remained, and since everyone in the building had gone quiet too, Alan felt like he was standing in a void, where no noise could be heard or could be made.

“I understand.” Alan replied; it was almost a whisper. This atmosphere gave him a bad vibe; he felt like a bullet could be shot to his head at any moment now. He didn't like it a single bit.

Then, the bartender snapped his fingers again, and every Nobody in the building went back to how they were before.

…

“Hey, cheer up.” The Nobody that sat next to him patted his back. “Don't worry, you won't be doing all the heavy work. Just immobilize number 12 and leave the scene as fast as possible; we're going to come and finish the leftovers for you.”

“Thanks,” Alan replied, but the voice was very unenthusiastic, which Nobody noticed.

“What's in your mind?”

“The Nobody that nursed me while I was injured… what's his number?”

“Oh, that? His number is 21. I am 27.”

Alan paused a bit again; he knew this would be a question they probably wouldn't like to answer, but a shot not taken was a miss regardless.

“What's The Boss' number?” And as soon as it was said, the entire building went silent once more, but now all of them were looking at Alan, including the bartender.

“The Boss…” Apsel replied, his voice rather mocking, as if he didn't take the authority of The Boss as high as other Nobodys. “His number is 2. He is the second Nobody to ever exist and predates Adam himself.”

“Second?" Alan questioned, all this hype for him to be second? "I thought it would be the first, you know? Who's the first?”

“That's a question that will answer itself with enough time.” Apsel replied with a confident posture.

Silence once more, Alan was starting to grow uncomfortable from the sudden change of atmospheres.

“But I'll tell you a hint.” Apsel chuckled.

“…?”

“What you see me as right now, this pitch-black, silhouette figure with a pitch-black fedora, is only a projection of me. Meeting my real self will be a major step in meeting The Boss.”

”And how will I know what your real self looks like—”

Alan was cut off as a new Nobody banged the door open; he stood there, gasping for air. His body was on fire, but it didn't seem like it bothered him. As he made his way in, everyone in the building returned to their previous state once more.

”Right on time." 27 smirked.

”Sorry lads…” he huffed. ”I'm a bit late…”

”Dude, you are literally on fire; you should have bigger worries right now.” Alan replied, he tried to hide his chuckle, but it could be heard from his undertone.

”Don't worry, don't worry. I am already accustomed to the pain and used it to motivate myself to keep going.” He assured, but he was having fun as much as the guy questioning him, it was obvious from his smile.

”Why are you even on fire, dude?”

”It turns out, walking across a desert with black clothes is not an easy task. But alas, I made it.”

”Why desert??”

”I was getting tailed; I had no other choice.”

Alan stayed silent for a few seconds, studying the man.

”You're lying.”

”Excuse me?”

”Your pants are on fire. You were not getting chased. You didn't know how to manifest this building, so you had to resort to walking to one of the manual entrances, which is, as far as I can tell, is Apsel himself.”

”Okay, okay, fine, you got me. I'm just not too fond of dealing with things in the supernatural way, but whatever.”

The new Nobody said as 27 sprayed fire extinguisher on him from behind.

”What's your number?”

”53.”

”Why are you here?”

53, instead of giving a verbal answer, reached into his pocket and put a golden Desert Eagle on the table.

”I stole this from MC&D; it fires bullets that you can control the direction of with your mind. But has finite ammo. The Boss asked me to get this for you a few weeks ago.”

”Wow, even more gold, how surprising.”

The bartender looked at the clock on the wall.

”Time's up; you better get going, Alan.”

”Alright.”

Alan finally stood up and walked towards the exit. But before making his way out, he turned his head and looked at the four.

”Let's hope I'm not getting sent to a suicide mission. I'll see you guys there.”

"Are you going to remove the bandage on your hea—" 27 was cut off.

Then he walked out. The door shut behind him.

”… Did you guys tell him where Site-35 is?” 53 asked to the bartender.

The bartender chuckled. ”Nope, but he can find it himself."

To Do List

Alan is finally set to capture 12. With the destruction of site-35, Administrator will finally show himself. Everything is going according to the plan.

0.5. Kidnap a few individuals, erase their memories and their existence from the outside world and reconstruct their personalities to be that of one of us. (done.) ✓

1. Command 53 to get the golden gun, I've purposefully complicated his way to MC&D so the timing should be right on time for him to arrive. (done, I was correct.) ✓

2. Use one of the individuals as a tool to pressure 12 the the point where he hates it from the beginning (done, now he's looking for that book. Good. I'm going to need it.) ✓

3. Play around with site-35's warheads according to calculations. (Done.) ✓

4. Release my arch-nemesis from the void. (On the line. He will probably try to attack me as soon as he sees me, so I'll have to bring Apsel with me.)

4.5. Water the flowers, they're almost dead. ✓

5. Get waffles. (Man, I can't get enough of this. It's good.) ✓

6. 27 fell asleep on the train, send someone to pick him up.

7. Make contingencies, it's SCP Foundation we're talking about. (The unused bainwashed individuals should be enough, but I will think beyond it, just in case.)

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