Quiet Quitting - SCP Foundation

From the desk of Factotum September

To Senior Agent Andrea Adams

This is your official directive to assess possible candidates for Mobile Task Force Alpha-9 following recent changes in membership. A number of candidates have been recommended by our superiors and their files have been given to you, but I would like to remind you that as the replacement of a commander constitutes a 'significant restructuring' as per Ethics Committee guidelines, existing members are to be notified of prospective changes and allowed to resign from duty with no administrative retaliation.

I would ask that you attach any documentation of your efforts to this shared document for accountability and ease of access. Formal write-ups can be completed elsewhere but proper documentation of any notes will be useful.

Candidate: SCP-1985, given name Jacqueline Johnson

Alpha-9 lieutenant and medical officer, longest tenure on the task force aside from the late Commander Thompson.

Pros

- Strong candidate for new commander due to experience and proximity to previous commander

- Long-term longevity due to anomalous augmentations

- Increased physical abilities and resilience due to anomalous augmentations

- Educated background

- Good Foundation loyalty

- Accepted by previous commander

Cons

- Limited combat experience outside of the task force

- Non-military background

- Limited short-term anti-attrition capabilities

- Limited leadership experience and capability

Status: Requested to be removed from the task force moving forwards with no reason given. I can't even guess.

The main lobby of Site-17's administration wing was thankfully, mercifully, mostly empty. And all the red tape had been brushed away within a matter of a couple hours, too, as 19 was about the only site with enough clout to pressure 17 into signing away one of their SCPs. The 'eclectic' residents made the humanoid wing more memorable - or simply louder, if Jackie was being uncharitable - but without anything of note to distract her, the architecture of pure efficiency endemic to Foundation sites was bearing down on her. The rather frugal seating off to the sides of the room felt to Jackie like its cushioning was a thin sheet of faux leather and nothing but wood underneath.

Jackie rapped her fingers on her knee and looked at the clock. The head of her research team said he'd be over to pick her up by 11:30, so it wasn't much longer to wait now. If anything, he was a punctual man, so he'd probably be there early. Back to Site-19's scientific campus, with people who actually spoke her language. She never figured out what the hell any of the people here were on about besides maybe Iris, who she moreso handled than interacted with, but that was a bust now. No point in staying here.

Jackie squinted at the aluminum ceiling fan above her. She could scarcely remember why she joined Alpha-9 in the first place. But there was no point in dwelling on it, so she looked at the coffee table in front of her and tried to make herself interested in the outdated magazine on it. She was probably just hoping for a vacation of sorts, but she didn't end up liking it, so there was no shame in just calling it here. She didn't have anything to prove by staying on a sinking ship, she told herself. The half-assed excuse was all she could muster.

The low hum of the room was disturbed by one of its decades-old metal doors being thrown open. Jackie snapped her head in the direction of the noise and winced. Anne was storming out of an office, upset in a way that was too genuine to look like it fit on her face. Of course she was here, it made sense that they'd need to talk to Anne about the task force like they had for Jackie, but she really wasn't planning on seeing her now. Jackie had elected on making a clean and quiet exit in the morning. She'd been out of the humanoid wing before breakfast, and managed to avoid everyone except a few guards and janitors. And now she was going to have to put up with Anne. She prayed that her ride would get there in the next ten seconds.

Sighing, Jackie stood up and put on a smile. Anne was cutting across the room and heading right to her, so she raised a hand in a wave. Maybe she could play dumb to stall. "Oh, hey, I didn't think you'd…"

Anne didn't change her pace or direction as she marched right past Jackie and straight towards the exit. She offered only the barest acknowledgement that she was standing there, with a split-second glare she didn't move her neck at all for. Jackie recoiled from it.

More footsteps on the linoleum floor and another door slamming open, and she was gone. Leaving Jackie standing with the hum of the fan for company again. After a second, she resumed breathing, sat down again, and reminded herself that she was apathetic about all of this.

Candidate: CPOI-GRN3-6385, given name Anne Byrne

Alpha-9 task force member, only recently completing requisite training courses.

Pros

- Significant combat experience, including alongside and against the deployment of anomalies

- Weak infovoric capabilities applicable in intelligence-gathering

- Acceptable loyalty to previous commander

Cons

- Former Insurgency affiliation

- Less than ideal Foundation loyalty

Status: Agreed to stay with Alpha-9 after some deliberation. Not going to include the comments here - they were vulgar and rambling, and recorded in attached documents - but she seemed unhappy with the fact the task force was continuing. Not sure why she's staying if that's how she feels.

Anne made a show of shuffling the deck of cards while keeping the same one at the bottom. She did a bad job at hiding that, and from Stacey's angle, it should have been obvious. After a few seconds, she pulled up the bottom card and placed it on the cafeteria table in front of Leora. "Is this your card?" Anne asked with a smug smile.

Leora's face scrunched up, a definite yes that Anne didn't need to read her for. Instead, she focused her attention on Stacey, whose general dark grey emotional state registered a short, muted burst of recognition. That was it, kids loved nothing more than correcting someone, so as long as Stacey was paying attention…

Any new emotion was swallowed up by the gnawing emptiness in her again. Anne couldn't hold the smile as Stacey looked back to her untouched lunch sitting on her plate. She recognized those kinds of emotions from her old Insurgency comrades, and still, she was useless against it. Leora stole a glance at her friend as though she was afraid to be noticed, and shrunk into her chair, looking ashamed.

Stupid. That was stupid. That kind of thing was only good at cheering up drunk assholes. Anne kicked herself for even attempting it, but she couldn't think of anything for kids. She scarcely even saw them before she got to the Foundation, anyways.

Their table fell into an awkward state of silence with nobody else to pick up the conversation. Iris was… gone, Marya had been locked up again, Daniel and Rainer started sitting somewhere else after a couple awkward meals, and even that albino girl Jackie had been teaching had taken to standing by the wall and waiting for her to come back. She wasn't coming back. It set Anne on edge to think about it, but she was hesitant to fuck up talking with another kid.

Anne ground her teeth. What was even the point of her still being there if she couldn't even help the kids, at the very least? She felt her nails dig into her palms. For all her talents, she was never any better at this in the Insurgency.

At least then they didn't tend to stick around too long.

Her attention was directed away from the table for long enough for a particularly unsubtle man to lumber his way up to it and loudly drop all of his weight down onto the cheap plastic seats with a clatter. Anne jumped up on reflex, but she could already guess who it was.

Foxx heaved a plastic bag bearing a logo Anne was unfamiliar with onto the table with the kind of deep sigh from minimal activity that came naturally to fathers. "Yeah, so, this Asian place just opened close to the site and it's cheaper than the Safeway." He just barged straight into the conversation like it was nothing. His cluelessness was honestly inspiring in its own right. The awkward quiet was replaced with the deafening crinkling of cellophane.

"And the candy's cheap, too," Foxx added as he tore open a bag a little too forcefully and sent small yellow bits of plastic flying across a portion of the table. Enough landed near Leora that he brushed them towards her to make it seem like he did it on purpose.

She flinched away from the candies, unsure for a second, before her obligation to social etiquette won out and she mumbled a quick "Thank you" while taking one, her typical invective having been absent for over a week now.

She opened the bag and regarded the amber chunk inside of it with distaste and caution, then tossed the whole thing into her mouth with the expression of someone ripping off a band-aid. It looked as though she was going on the classic Hero's Journey with her eyebrows before she settling into chewing it at a consistent pace. She nodded her head slightly without looking at anyone in particular, which appeared to be enough praise to make Foxx's mood noticeably better.

Anne registered another jolt of recognition from Stacey, this time a more gentle, insistent push. She had picked up one of the candies and was inspecting it with more interest than Anne had seen all day. Anne squinted at her. Did she seriously just need to bring in candy? She had figured the girls were too old for that.

"You can have some, if you want," offered Foxx. Anne was surprised by his restraint in not pushing a huge pile over to her, but he didn't give her too much attention. At least visibly.

Anne felt an odd emotion bubble up inside her - no, it wasn't strange at all, she knew what it was. A mix of annoyance and jealousy, but she didn't voice it. Rationally, she understood what Foxx was doing, graceless and blunt as he was. So she turned her feelings inwards and kept her mouth shut for the sake of the girls.

"Ah, n-no, I just…" Stacey cleared her throat and scratched her neck. "Th-These are just the same thing my grandpa used to get me."

"Oh? Well, I just picked them up since they were on sale while I was getting my groceries after work." Anne winced. She knew there were no Asian grocers anywhere near the site or his house. "You like them?"

"M-Mm." Stacey replied with a weak moan and a weaker nod.

Foxx responded with a noncommittal nod-shrug and pulled out his phone so he could more inconspicuously watch Stacey's reaction, lingering guilt worming its way onto his face. Oblivious to this, Stacey checked to see that nobody was watching her, missed that all three other people at the table were, and unwrapped and ate the candy so meekly it looked like she was afraid someone would take it from her if they noticed her.

She chewed on the candy thoughtfully for a moment before puckering her lips slightly, a deep blue creeping over the gray in her head. She tried to ignore it for a few seconds before gagging and scrunching up her face. The deep blue nostalgia washed over her as she ground her teeth as tears silently streamed down her face, her eyes screwed shut as she refused to see if anyone was looking at her. Her posture collapsed in on itself and she covered her face in her hands, her entire body rhythmically rocking with her quiet heaving.

Candidate: CPOI-RED4-4573 (SCP redesignation pending), given name Marya Sirin

Recently given more restrictive containment procedures once it was understood her previous containment severely underestimated her abilities.

Pros

- Striga are difficult to kill, essentially requiring total incineration (according to retrieved GOC files on other specimens)

- Difficult to slow down in combat, requiring dismemberment when any body part, the head included, can be regenerated given enough suitable biomass nearby

- Dangerous in close quarters, provided the ability to morph into the proper form

- Extensive, albeit poorly understood, thaumaturgy - Foxx told me that Striga linages pass on and develop their schools across generations, and therefore the Sirin lineage's thaumaturgy is poorly understood at this time.

Cons

- The overwhelming resilience of a mature Blood Striga makes it very difficult to form a good contingency plan for Marya like we have for the others, because quite frankly if we really wanted her secure we'd seal her in a cremation chamber and never let her leave (Foxx objected to some of these comments)

- Possibly extremely dangerous if she cannot control herself when changing out of her human morph, as was seen in the most recent incident she was involved in

- We don't know her actual capabilities, both physically and in terms of thaumaturgy, and testing this would be time and resource intensive and dangerous

Daniel had been passively aware of higher-risk containment cells for other humanoids, or at least that they existed, but had made the decision not to give it much thought. especially after Marya had been confined to one since their little… escapade. He felt some guilt about turning a blind eye to such a thing, but he could only do what he could do, and figured that worrying about something he couldn't change would have been painful, even if there was some heroism in that kind of self-flagellation on another's behalf.

But having accepted Marya's invitation to speak one-on-one, carried through a social worker that seemed incredulous to be given the request and even more so for it to be agreed to, he was now able to get a firsthand experience of what it looked like. The fact that there was a reinforced entryway that only opened from the outside was, admittedly, a pretty bad start, but the man operating it had told Daniel to just wait for the past half-hour while he confirmed that whatever Marya was doing in her room wouldn't instantly kill Daniel. Which he would have liked to protest on her behalf with, but their last interaction had shown him he actually knew precious little about her.

While Daniel was in the middle of trying to figure out how the strange-looking firearms on the wall functioned, the guard stuck his head out of his little cubby filled with all manner of invasive monitors and awkwardly called out to his guest. "Uh, yeah, looks like everything's fine." He leaned forwards a bit more and spoke quietly, even though Daniel had been the only other person in the room since being dropped off. "Look, you don't have to go in, man. If she asks I can just say you never got the message."

"Oh. No, it's fine. I'm here." Daniel reflexively gave the response that would result in the least amount of work for the person he was talking to, so the guard just shrugged and opened the door to a long metal hallway.

The flashing yellow lights on its interior brought him back off autopilot, and he actually took a moment to consider what might have been on the other side of the power door opposite of him. "Uh, wait what was she doing that was such an issue?" He asked as he nonetheless entered the hallway.

"Singing." The door began closing behind Daniel

"Singing?"

"Yeah, but - you'll see." The guard cut himself off as the door fully closed behind Daniel, leaving him in the featureless airlock-looking buffer zone.

He frowned and furrowed his brow. He was beginning to get the sense that if he were more important, they wouldn't have allowed him to be there at all. Reminding himself that it was his choice to be there in the first place, he dutifully walked over to the entrance to Marya's room and waited for the door to be opened.

The moment the heavy slab of steel cracked open, a song rushed through as clearly as if it had simply always been in the hallway. It was a breathless melody, without so much as a beat between any of its words, skipping off the consonants and lilting on the vowels and supported by a chorus of harmonizing voices, embracing the melody while remaining indistinguishable. It was all guided by a gentle yet insistent strumming, which Daniel found to be almost buried in the stream of vocals.

Although he was drawn in by the song at first, once the door had fully opened, Daniel found himself rooted in place. In front of him, in a dim, sparse room that smelled faintly of iron, was Marya, holding some kind of lute. That much he could understand at a glance, but it looked as though she was a sculpture that a child had gotten ahold of before it was fired in a kiln. There were holes along her neck and down to her navel of varying sizes, gently undulating like the mouths of fish, creating a chorus of roughly human vocals, fed by Marya's chest and stomach expanding and contracting in a way that gave the appearance of a large, stirring infant pressing against the inside of her torso. Her body was framed by gently undulating growths on her back that appeared at first to be wings, but looked closer to rigid intestines with 'feathers' of some kind of fluffy-looking tissue, lazily swinging in the air. It was all so beautiful that Daniel felt like he was going to vomit as he stepped inside.

The room really was quite dim, though whether that was due to its construction or Marya's preference, Daniel couldn't tell. He couldn't see very much past Marya herself, who was still singing with her eyes gently closed, and didn't even look like she had noticed him walk in. Daniel knew he had been summoned, but would feel bad for interrupting her song, so instead he found himself looking at her undulating form the same way someone with no experience in medicine would find themself transfixed by a video of an expertly performed surgery.

Marya's eyes opened, a deeper sanguine than Daniel remembered, or perhaps realized. His muscles tensed as she kept him in a gentle gaze as she finished her verse, keeping the other aspects of her body consistent. Compared to the rest of the room, her eyes seemed practically luminescent - though now seeing what Marya was capable of, that seemed entirely possible.

The song wound down into a more reserved arrangement, and many of the holes on Marya's skin pursed together like lips and began fusing together, cleanly enough that within seconds there was no trace of them on Marya's skin, which appeared unblemished aside from plates of chitin holding her together. A few secondary mouths on her back remained, by the sound of it, but they tightened to resemble the sounds of gentle woodwinds.

When Marya finally spoke, the sound of her mouth opening was like peeling apart two sheets of paper with wet glue in between them, as though she had only just finished re-arranging her flesh to something close to human. "…You could say that was a folk song."

"…Huh?" Daniel shook his head as her voice woke him up from a stupor he didn't know he was in. "Oh, ah. It was nice."

Marya looked down at her lute and smiled sadly. "I'm glad you liked it." There was a lull in the song as Marya appeared to begin tuning her instrument, though Marya's woodwinds continued making noise.

Now that Marya was talking, Daniel felt a little more at ease. He politely clasped his hands behind his back. Even coming in had been a headache, and he still wasn't sure why Marya needed to talk with him, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings if she simply wanted to play him some music. It was at least a unique performance.

"I, ah…" Marya appeared to be struggling for words. She finished tuning her instrument and placed her hands back into their playing positions, but didn't strum the lute. "I'm sorry I… No. I'm sorry you had to see that."

Daniel nodded his head as though he were not expected to offer a response. Once he realized Marya was waiting expectantly, he nodded his head faster and spoke quickly as though making up for lost time. "Oh, no, it's fine. You're fine. Really. I get it."

Marya looked at Daniel just long enough to make him uncomfortable before she returned to strumming her lute. "Do you think I'm scary?"

"Wha-" Daniel coughed. He didn't really spend much time with women, but he remembered many of his friends, who didn't either, warning him of their trick questions and devious riddles. "Well, um-"

"You'd be right to." The quick response saved Daniel from what he felt would be digging his own grave, though Marya's dour words made him feel a twinge of distaste. "Striga are inherently foul things. Even now, we reek of the fear and desperation of Klavigar Lovataar." Marya's words were biting, but their tone was objective. Her playing continued on at a steady pace. "I was expressly born and bred for a kind of violence that the world has since left behind."

With nothing much to add, Daniel simply made a point to be a good listener. Marya's brief explanation raised more questions about her than it answered, but it didn't seem like something she was simply saying out of guilt. It seemed as though it was a conclusion she had given a lot of thought, and as uninformed as Daniel was, he decided he would offer sympathy rather than an argument.

"I can't say I understand everything you're saying, but I can understand what you mean by feeling left behind." Daniel looked at the ground and felt his expression becoming darker.

"Yes, you want to be a great hero, hm?" The lilt in Marya's voice belied some amusement. "My mother would scold you for that, austere old woman she was."

"Yeah, well, it's not like the world needs heroes like that anymore."

"Oh, no." Marya's face perked up into an almost innocent expression. "By all means, we need them more than ever. You're simply a terrible fit."

Daniel felt a sharp blow in the gut as he stared at his 'friend' slack-jawed. He was used to taking hit for trying to be nice, but that just felt particularly cruel, delivered without a hint of thought.

"Ah, don't take it like that," Marya huffed while rolling her eyes. "It's admirable. You still have the good sense to understand how weak you are, but you persevere."

For her efforts, Marya was met only with a pout from her guest. Daniel's previous malaise gave way to wounded pride, or at least offense. He was aware he was being childish, but Marya was being a little unreasonable to drag him all the way out there, make him wait on her, then insult him right off the bat.

Marya frowned and furrowed her brow. "You know, I…" She struggled for the words as Daniel continued to pout, electing to at least hear her explanation. "…I would not admire a hawk for killing a snake, but if a mouse… Bah."

In a huff, Marya stood up with her lute, the puffy 'feathers' contracting into their bases until she only had four tentacles sticking out of her back, which writhed subtly as if they were snakes attempting to show discontent on their owner's behalf. "Sorry," she huffed, though Daniel got the sense she was mostly annoyed with herself. "English is my second language. I still struggle with analogies."

Daniel thought she was fluent enough that he would have believed her if she said it was her first language, but as someone who gave up on learning Spanish halfway through high school, he decided it would be rude to say anything. Besides, he was pretty sure he understood the general message Marya was trying to get across, and that was the most important thing anyhow.

The music abandoned, Daniel became aware of the oppressiveness of the space for the first time. Marya skulked away into a nearby corner of the room, leaving the wide-open space in front of Daniel unobstructed. He could have charitably called it 'spacious,' but it looked more like the gaping maw of a sinkhole than a living quarters.

"I'm sorry if you found that display of mine… offputting, or… anything of the sort." Marya spoke over her shoulder. "It was just a breathing exercise my mother taught me," she continued as she turned back to gently place her lute on the ground. "You had to see an uncouth - no, a rather horrific side of me. I wanted to show you something beautiful." Though he couldn't see it, Marya's frown was apparent in her voice. "Or at least something closer to it."

"I never thought that about you." Daniel felt as though the words were pulled right out of him, and Marya turned to look at him with a wide-eyed look that was equal parts surprised and confused. Still, he pressed on - it wasn't right for someone that considerate to say something like that about herself. "I was scared of you because I didn't know anything about you. But you - I mean, you…" Daniel felt his face get warmer as it dawned on him that he didn't actually know where he was going with any of this.

"…You're nice."

Marya's tentacles twitched at his unbidden remark, her expression saying much the same. Daniel took a step back and kicked himself. If lifetime confinement couldn't stop him from getting ahead of himself like that, it really might be over for him.

He stared at the ground for a few seconds. Then, slowly, Marya relaxed and raised a hand to cover her mouth. "Honestly, you're hopeless," she chided softly. "That's what I was worried about."

"Huh?" Daniel blinked. "…Am I in trouble?"

"You probably will be more often than not with that personality of yours." Marya placed her lute gently on the ground near an orderly pile of other keepsakes that must have hailed from her home. "Which is why I wanted to speak with you."

Now it was Daniel's turn to be confused. "It wasn't to say sorry?" He wouldn't say it, but he had sort of felt like he was owed an apology for what Marya did back then.

"You know Iris is dead, yes?" Marya brushed past his inconsequential remark with a rather jarring non sequitur. It took him a moment to catch up with the rapidly changing topic, but he nodded. "Died working some sort of militant role for the Foundation. They need a replacement."

"Uh, should we be… talking about this?" Daniel said in a half-whisper. Sure, most people assumed something was up with her, but it always seemed like the kind of thing you weren't actually supposed to know.

"No," replied Marya plainly, "but that doesn't matter. I've been approached about it. And if I've been approached, you likely will be too." She turned to face him, her posture making her look more authoritative than she normally appeared when she was elsewhere on the site. Or maybe it was just the tentacles making her look bigger. As nice as her eyes were, it was a little hard not to look at them.

"You think?" Daniel perked up before reminding himself of what he had just been talking about. "But, wait, why would they…"

"They're desperate if they're coming to something as dangerous as me," Marya explained.

"Someone."

"…Yes, yes. Someone as dangerous as me. My point stands." Marya waved her hand dismissively as she turned her face away from him. "Stay away from any such propositions."

She said it so matter-of-factly that by the time Daniel had started to think about it, he found that he was already nodding.

"Good." Marya nodded sagely. "As long as-"

"W-Wait, hold on." Daniel blurted out once he processed what Marya had told him. "If they're coming to me, that means they need me, doesn't it?"

Marya's expression hardened. "They don't need anyone, Daniel."

"How can you be sure?" Daniel bristled in spite of himself. "What if - what if someone needs help, and I'm the only one who can do that job?"

There was no response to his question. Marya stayed silent, looking at him with a cold expression as she let the oppressive silence bear down on him. Daniel was indignant at first, that someone would try to stop him from even trying to be a hero, but he could feel himself withering under Marya's glare. He tugged on his shirt collar, the smell of iron and the humidity starting to get to him, but he didn't backpedal. He appreciated what she was trying to say, but really, she'd just told him that the situation meant he could finally have his time to shine. He wanted to at least think about it.

Seconds passed. Then a minute. Daniel could feel himself sweating, though whether he just started or had been for a while, he didn't know. Indignation started to turn to annoyance as neither party broke the stalemate. Daniel cleared his throat and decided to make his move.

"I-I mean, what is it to you, anyways?" Loathe to admit it, but Daniel found that in most cases, he was very little to other people. At least it was a good point in an argument about him.

Marya finally blinked, and sighed deeply. She ran a hand through her hair, and with one of her tentacles, gingerly fished her lute out of the pile. Wordlessly, she presented it to her guest, the human parts of her body maintaining a reserved pose.

Somewhat reluctantly, he grabbed it from the slimy-looking tentacle, careful not to touch the parts where the tentacle had been holding it. It was surprisingly light, with worn wood and some of its strings clearly having been replaced. It lacked the smooth finish of a modern instrument, and even from the briefest of examinations, Daniel understood it was likely older than him by a significant margin.

"That balalaika isn't mine, or my mother's, though she gave it to me," Marya said. Her voice was reverent, and not nearly as cold as her body language would have insinuated. "It belongs to a man named Ivan. Ivan has two daughters and a wife who passed away during childbirth to his third, who died shortly after. He was born on January 17th, 1909, and made that instrument when his oldest daughter was four, because she had trouble sleeping without her mother. After years of practice, his music became well-liked in his village."

She spoke plainly, as though she were simply reciting common knowledge. Daniel felt his grip on the - what did she call it? - balalaika start to slip as he suddenly found it heavier.

"Before I was born, when my mother was young and… ambitious, she came to lead a war party, a Halkost." Marya's eyes were downcast, wearing an inherited shame. "Under the command of a Karcist - one of a Striga's standing - those in the party became flesh to be shaped into weapons. Ivan willingly accompanied my mother, because she told him that it would make his village safer when they returned. That he would be a hero to his daughters." Although the squirming of Marya's tentacles betrayed her discomfort, her human body remain rigid. "She said the same thing to many people during that time."

Though Daniel felt that much of this was going over his head, the pressure precluded him from interrupting, and Marya continued. "She asked each individual who joined her to carry a keepsake. So they wouldn't forget themself. In this way, my mother believed herself compassionate, that the members of her Halkost might return home."

Marya stepped forwards so that Daniel could see what was in the corner. He followed her gaze to the pile of chipped dolls, worn carvings, cooking utensils, faded paintings, rusted knives, and torn photographs. The pressure moved into a pit in his stomach. "My mother seldom spoke of her campaign. Such was its intensity that it is still spoken about today, and my family name carries honors and respect with it." Her hands clasped each other so tightly that they must have been leaving marks. "My mother said the accolades were hollow. She was a great leader, and few under her command died in body, but by the end they were only flesh. Bereft of my mother's influence, they would have become a plague upon the living, and so she took in their flesh, and their remnants. I inherited their flesh from her. And so too did I inherit their keepsakes, and their memories."

She looked across her pile of remnants left behind by everything, save for her. "As such, I carry their names and stories"

Marya turned her red eyes back to Daniel, and he felt them pierce right through him. "They were all scared. They were weak, and they all wanted to help in spite of that. As I said to you, Daniel, I admire that." She stepped in front of Daniel, who found himself rooted in place, and clasped her hands around his, pressing them into the worn wood in his hands. "I would not ask you to abandon your pride, or your dreams. But you should listen to me when I say that you cannot give yourself over to another's violence in the name of that dream. Please," - her hands gripped his even tighter - "I carry their names for a reason."

She locked him in an insistent, earnest gaze, and Daniel found himself rooted in place. Granted, part of that was also because Marya was holding onto his hands with deceptive strength. The longer he stared into her eyes, the weaker he felt his legs and spine becoming, as so it was only a matter of time before he nodded. As much as he wanted to help people, he couldn't deny Marya's sincere wishes. Even if there were precious few things he could still count on after coming to the Foundation, his dedication to respecting women was one of them. And everyone else, too, but women was the big one.

Relieved, Marya sighed and released Daniel's hands, leaving him with the lute. "Well, that's good." She sounded strangely tired as she gave him a solemn nod. "As long as you understand that." She looked around the room for a few seconds, her intense expression morphing into one of mild embarrassment, as though she just realized she didn't properly plan activities for a party.

"S-So, what will you be doing, then?" Daniel asked. In fact, he'd been meaning to ask for a while, ever since she failed to appear for breakfast after their incident.

"Me? Oh, I'll be working on my application to that task force."

Daniel let out a strange noise akin to the sound a balloon makes when you only hold its opening shut halfway and felt worn wood slip past his now-frozen fingers. It was only by the grace of Marya's low-hanging tentacles that it was caught before it hit the ground, and only Marya's piercing glare that stopped Daniel from saying something stupid again.

"I'm not going to actually - you - guh." Marya did her best to restrain her invective as she gingerly placed her inherited keepsake back where it belonged among the pile. A deep breath, a count to three, and she continued. "They would never use me. But they'll give me back my privileges if I can make them think they can, even for a little."

"Hmph. You're actually awfully shrewd, you know." Daniel found himself pouting once again.

Marya sighed. "With a such a capacity for violence, far better that than to be a fool."

Candidate: SCP-4051, given name Rainer Miller

Currently granted increased on-site privileges as per the Anomaly Social Flagship Project

Pros

- Anomaly is widely applicable both in combat and for utility in various situations, notably at range

- Offers both significant firepower without ammunition cost and rapid deployment of defensive equipment

- Some experience with MTF operations

- Demonstrates strong loyalty to the Foundation

Cons

- Due to the anomaly only being able to manifest things based on Rainer's cognition, it is incapable of producing complex armaments or gear

- Potential of extremely hazardous products from the anomaly

- Relatively young compared to typical MTF members

- Inclusion was strongly opposed by the previous commander

Interviewer: Senior Agent Aleksander Foxx

Interviewee: SCP-4051

Excerpt from preliminary interview for Alpha-9 application.

(Foxx enters small meeting room with SCP-4051 seated at the table, having been given some preliminary documents pertaining to Mobile Task Force Alpha-9 following his designation as a candidate.)

Foxx: Hey kid. Sorry to be late, I-

SCP-4051: (Standing up) Was that lady serious earlier? can I really - I mean on the - can I do that?

Foxx: …Well, aha, uh. Hello to you too.

SCP-4051: Oh, shi- I mean, I'm sorry. That was rude.

(SCP-4051 takes a seat, followed by Foxx after a moment.)

Foxx: Don't worry about it. You know if anything, it's a nice change of pace.

SCP-4051: From Iris?

Foxx: Well, I… um.

SCP-4051: Oh, I, ah, uh, I'm sorry. (Raises his hands and gesticulates vaguely) I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry about that. Her. Your loss, I mean.

Foxx: Don't worry about it.

(Foxx moves closer to the table and arranges the papers into a more orderly arrangement, taking several seconds to check over each document.)

Foxx: You've had a chance to look at these, I take it?

SCP-4051: Yes, I have, and, I mean, wow. Is this - ahem - I mean, is it…

Foxx: (Forces a smile) Uh, you can just ask, kid. That's why I'm here, just to make sure you know what's going on.

SCP-4051: Okay, thanks, but is it really… I mean, is it all that?

Foxx: …'All that?'

SCP-4051: I mean, you know! The missions, the saving people, fighting the bad guys, just… everything.

Foxx: (Sighs) Well, I don't know if I'd… frame it like that, you know, but I suppose you're not wrong.

SCP-4051: Well, how would you frame it?

Foxx: Me? (Pauses and leans back in his chair) A job.

SCP-4051: Heh, well that's not a very romantic way of putting it.

Foxx: (Leaning forwards) It's not a very romantic job.

(SCP-4051 weakly laughs. Foxx smiles but does not laugh. Several seconds of silence follow.)

SCP-4051: …I understand there's a risk, you know, like I get that.

Foxx: (Frowns) Like with Iris.

SCP-4051: Well, yeah, but I still think it's important. Important to help when I can, if I can. Because I can. Even more now that Iris can't help.

Foxx: …Right. If you say so.

SCP-4051: I do. Really.

(Foxx nods his head and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and taking a deep breath. SCP-4051 looks at him intently.)

Foxx: You know, I think she told me about that, once.

SCP-4051: About wanting to help?

Foxx: About why she joined. I think is was so that you wouldn't have to.

SCP-4051: Well, she's not here now.

Foxx: (Smiling) I guess not.