Beyond The Depths: In A Flash - SCP Foundation

Series Archive » North Star » Chapter 1 » Beyond The Depths: In A Flash

January, 2002

"You haven't taken any pictures yet."

Iris looked down. Tommy was staring up at her, confusion on his face.

"Nothing to take pictures of." She shrugged, gazing at the sky above her. It was bleak gray and overcast, with the winds blowing particularly chilly today. She hated days like these, not only for the cold, but because any photo she took would also be dull and somber. Why Tommy had wanted to go out on a day like this was beyond her.

"Aren't you cold?" She asked, shivering as a gust of wind pierced her thin jacket. She knew he wouldn't be, Tommy was the kind of kid to just ignore the temperature. Still, she hoped he'd get the hint SHE wanted to go home.

"Nope." Tommy replied, shaking his head. "I was actually hoping it would snow again."

Iris laughed as she thought back to Christmas morning. Tommy had barged into her room at 5 am and practically dragged her to the window, ecstatic over the white flakes falling from the sky. It was odd, considering how far south they were.

"Why don't you take more pictures of me?" He suggested.

Iris shook her head. "I've already taken several pictures of you. Besides, Dad says I need to save my polaroids for spring."

"Aww." Tommy did the thing where he titled his head and curled his lower lip. "Pleeeeeease?"

"No." She slowly emphasized.

"Fine!" He pouted, crossing his arms. Iris laughed and rubbed his short blond hair.

She took in her surroundings. They were in the middle of a gravel path that branched off in several directions. A swing set and slide sat on one end of the park, a series of benches and tables on the other.

Sitting on one of the benches was a figure that looked familiar to Iris. Taking a second glance, she realized who it was.

"Hey Tommy." She said, starting towards her brother. "I'm going to hang out over here. Come get me if you need anything."

He nodded, then trotted off in the opposite direction. Iris turned and began walking to the figure.

"Hi Anthony."

"Oh." The kid turned to her. "Hi Iris."

Anthony Baker had known Iris since kindergarten. She could recall them spending a lot of time together throughout elementary school. Sharing food at lunch, pushing each other on the swings at recess, doing their homework on the bus (sometimes in the morning rather than afternoon). Even during middle school, they still seemed to end up getting the same lunch and class periods.

He was one of the few people in Iris's life she could call a close friend.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here." Anthony remarked.

"I'm watching my brother. For whatever reason he wanted to come out here today. How about you?"

He shrugged. "Needed out of the house. Mom and Dad were fighting again. Decide to take the initiative and go for a walk instead of sitting in my room listening to them bicker."

"Oh…" Iris started. "I'm sorry to hear that."

She felt bad for Anthony. His parents were, to put it lightly, deadbeats. From what Iris heard, his dad had a horrible gambling and drinking addiction, and would spend most of his free time at the bar with his friends. His mom, on the other hand, was barely home either. Rumor had it she was a prostitute, though no one had actually confirmed it.

Anthony had practically been taking care of himself since he was 7, given how neglectful his parents were. The few times they were home usually dissolved into a shouting match between the two, with Anthony being used as either ammunition or a shield.

She had no idea why they hadn't divorced yet, probably for financial or legal reasons.

"You know you're always welcomed over at my place." Iris said.

"I don't want to bother you and your family."

"You wouldn't be a bother at all." She retorted. "I'm actually more bothered by you insisting on staying with your folks."

"I…" He started. "…thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

She didn't know why he was so reluctant to leave his house, or at least to go over to hers. He used to all the time for years, but for some reason had stopped a few months ago.

"You liking the camera?" He asked, pointing to the device.

"Loving it!" She exclaimed, holding it up. "I've only taken a few pictures so far, but once spring comes and livens everything up, I'm going to completely fill my wall!"

Anthony just smiled at her.

A gust of wind blew against Iris's face.

It's colder than I remember.

"How's Sam doing?" Anthony asked. "Heard she broke her arm during floor hockey."

"Yeah, right in the middle of a game too. Sammy's fine, should be back to school Monday. Fair warning though, she hasn't shut up about how they would've won if that kid hadn't 'tripped' her."

"So… normal Sam?"

Iris laughed. "Pretty much."

She turned and looked at Tommy, who was swinging a stick around like a sword, making noises with his mouth.

"Do you have the time?"

Anthony looked at the cheap watch on his wrist. "2:48."

"Shit." She hissed. Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, don't tell anyone. Mom said she'd be home by 3. She'll have a heart attack if we aren't there when she gets back."

Iris turned and began walking towards Tommy. "See you Monday."

"Mind if I join you on your way home?" Anthony asked.

She stopped and turned to him, smiling. "Of course you can. Mom's plan for dinner was to cook up so-"

"I don't intend on staying."

"Oh." Her smiled faded a little. "That's ok, you can still come along!"

Anthony stood and followed Iris. The two of them approached the young boy.

"Time to get going."

Tommy threw his stick and ran up to her.

"Now?" He asked.

"Yep, now."

"Ok. Hi Anthony." He waved.

"Hey Tommy."

The three of them began walking through the streets of Phoenix and back to the suburb. It was weird, Iris wasn't able to focus on any of the backgrounds; and despite experiencing it all at that very moment, she wasn't able to recall much of the walk. As if she was in a…

All of a sudden, she became very aware of her surroundings. They were at an intersection, a few cars were parked on the sides of the road, but no traffic. Across the street was the coffee shop that went out of business a few weeks ago. Strange, as it was filled with costumers whenever Iris had went.

The light hanging above the crosswalk was green, and a picture of a red hand was positioned across the road.

Don't go.

Anthony was standing next to her, silent. He had just finished talking about some book he was hoping to get at book fair their school was hosting, and how nervous he was to start Highschool (even though it was still almost a year away). The light turned yellow, but the hand remained red.

Don't go.

Tommy stood eagerly at the edge of sidewalk, waiting for the opportunity to dash to the other side. He always sprinted across crosswalks as fast as he could. The light turned red, and the hand was replaced by a person who looked like they were walking.

Go.

Tommy bolted across the road as soon as the light changed, stepping only on the white lines. Iris and Anthony began to walk, but both stopped as the groaning of an engine grew louder to their left. They turned, and Iris's stomach dropped.

A black sedan was speeding down the road. The driver either didn't notice, or didn't care, about the light; and it was obvious they didn't see Tommy.

"TOMMY!" Iris shrieked.

Tommy stopped moving and turned. Her face went cold.

He stopped moving. He could've made it if he kept going, but I made him stop.

"What?" He asked.

The sound of tires screeching echoed through the street. Tommy turned just in time for a look of shock to wash over his face.

Then there was the thud. A 20 foot streak of blood stretched across the road, with the 9 year old crumpled at the end of it. Red liquid began pooling around the broken, motionless body.

Iris shot up into a sitting position, gasping. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. She placed a shaky hand on her head, fighting back tears as the image of Tommy's corpse burned in her mind.

This wasn't the first time she had that nightmare, and it wouldn't be the last. She sniffed, then took several deep breaths in an attempt to recollect herself.

Why did I stop him?

Several minutes passed as she wallowed in her regret. Eventually calming down, she looked up and examined the room. The walls were smooth and dark gray, with a texture that made it look like granite or marble. Two beds, a couch, some chairs, and an odd looking coffee table made up the room's furnishing.

Ok. She thought. Black is gone, at least I think that was Black. First time actually seeing his face. Wonder how he got that scar? She shook her head and rose to her feet. Focus. He said we were in some kind of alternate dimension… Because I guess that's possible now. God, I am really starting to hate this 'anomalous world.'

This seems to be some kind of cell. Not seeing a way out. Alright, but then where is Black? He told me that 'they' gave both of us some kind of medicine, so I'm assuming our captors are somewhat concerned for our well being. Which means they're friendly.

Or they want to use us. No, no, don't think like that. You'll stress yourself out. Still, where is he?

Iris thought for a moment. Looking around the room, she took note of the furniture and comfortability of it.

They're friendly. The room wouldn't be so luxurious if we were just going to be used like tools. I'm sure Black will be back soon, then we can find a way out of…

She stopped as her mind landed on something she had failed to realize.

How will we get home? Does Black have a plan? Is it even possible to get back? Would our captors even allow it? What if we can't get back? What if we aren't ALLOWED to go back?

A pain manifested in her stomach as the what-ifs ran through her head. The medication to curb her stress-induced nausea must've worn off. She doubled over as excess saliva dripped out of her mouth, and cold sweat drenched her undershirt as she started heaving up bile.

Dammit. She thought, looking at the body fluids puddling on the floor. Not again.

"Umm-" Black said, looking at the 'food' in front of him. A mushy pile of dark gray… stuff. Next to his plate was a thin brown stick. It reminded Black of a singular chopstick. Scorn was sitting across from him, eating their food by stabbing bits from the pile and literally tossing it into their mouth.

The 'food' reeked, smelling like half-rotten roadkill, the kind that made your eyes water when you drove by it on a hot summer day.

"So…" He started, placing one hand on the globe and pushing the food away with the other. "I should probably avoid eating anything from here. Since I'm from an alternate reality, there's no telling how my body will react to this… stuff."

"You are concerned you will not be able to digest ██████?" Scorn finished with a click.

"Yeah, or anything from this world."

"Understandable. We wouldn't want you neutralized because you couldn't process our sustenance. Though I must ask, are you sure don't want to try it? You haven't eaten anything since you arrived."

"I'm… sure." Black said, trying like hell to only breath out of his mouth. "Hey, when I got here, I had a backpack with me. Do you understand backpack?"

"I do. Don't worry, I was actually planning on taking you there next."

"To my stuff?"

"Yes. Our analyzers are having some trouble understanding the purpose and functionality of some of your items. We were hoping you could explain what they're meant to do."

"Alright." Black said standing. "Lead the way."

"Easy." Scorn replied. "I'm not done consuming yet." They tossed another chunk into their mouth.

Black reluctantly sat down and looked back at the food in front of him.

There's ration bars in my pack. I'll just have one of those when we get there.

He took in the room around him. It was, for all intents and purposes, a normal cafeteria. There were several rows of tables and chairs, all of which looked like normal tables and chairs. Black found the familiarity more than welcoming.

The only thing foreign to him was how Scorn had obtained the 'food.' On the far side of the room was a system of pipes that stretched up to the wall. They were all labeled with symbols Black didn't understand. There were 6 tubes in total, with two groups of three.

Scorn had walked over to the pipes on the left and stuck their hand up it. After a few seconds, they pulled out and walked over to one of the tubes on the right. Grabbing a tray located that had been near them, they positioned it under the pipe as the mush oozed out, plopping onto the tray.

Then they had walked back and placed half of the gray, rotten carcass smelling substance in front of Black. To say it was unappetizing was an understatement.

"I've been thinking." Black started. Scorn looked up at him. "These creatures, the ones from my world, where exactly do they go? You said you haven't been able to eliminate any of them. Do you, like, contain them, or do they disappear somewhere, or what?"

Scorn made a mixture of a hiss and click. "You want to know if there's another portal, which will hopefully take you home?"

Black didn't respond.

Shit. How did they know?

"Don't worry. If everything goes well, your stay here may not be permanent."

"What do you mean by that?" Black asked.

"In due time, Agent Black." Scorn said, returning to their meal. "In due time."

Bits of bile still remained on the floor, but for the most part had been cleaned up. Iris tossed her now half vomit-covered coat on the ground and sat on her bed. It was weird, she was freezing cold before, but had warmed up AFTER taking her jacket off.

Nothing to do but wait. She thought, looking down at her combat boots. Waiting was something Iris had grown accustomed to. Not like she was allowed anything while sitting in the detention center, awaiting trial.

Same with when the Foundation first caught her. 17 cells for 'new skips' were almost completely barren, and it wouldn't be until she agreed to join Omega-7 that she was allowed any kind of amenities.

The anxiety in her grew as the minutes ticked by ever so slowly. Butterflies began forming in her stomach, and eventually her hands started shaking. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

Breath. That's what they taught you to do. Breath.

Deciding sitting around doing nothing was only making her more nervous, she stood and stared pacing. She eyed the corners of the room as she walked.

Wonder where the light is coming from.

As she looked around, her eyes landed on an indent on the wall. A door.

Iris knew in the back of her head it wouldn't open. That didn't stop her from walking over and pushing on it. Nothing. Out of curiosity, she raised he hand and tapped her index knuckle against it. The tapping echoed back.

She hadn't been expecting anything to happen, which is why she stumbled backwards when the door opened, revealing a hairless, lanky humanoid with orange skin and large black eyes. She stifled a scream as the creature opened its lipless mouth and made a clicking noise.

"…and we call it an MES helmet." Black said, holding the object up. "It allows me to traverse places that would kill me. Usually places with a lot of toxins."

He placed the helmet back on the metal table, or at least what he assumed was metal. The analyzing room wasn't particularly big, about the same size as the cell. The difference being the long, sleek table that sat in the middle of the room. Hugging the walls were instruments Black couldn't even begin to comprehend, and a half cylinder on the ceiling acting as the main source of light.

Laying on the table was an empty backpack, two Foundation ration bars, a canteen filled with water, the MES helmet he had just put down, a Polaroid One Step Express camera, an M16 rifle, a Beretta M9 handgun, ammo magazines for both, and a copy of American Empire: The Center Cannot Hold.

Black had been asked to explain, in his words, what the purpose and function of everything was. So far he had only explained the canteen, the ration bars, the book, and just now the helmet.

"Interesting." Scorn said, scratching a sheaf of long paper. "Very interesting. Could you now explain this?" They motioned to the camera.

"Oh…" Black said. "You'd better let 105 tackle that one. I mean, I know the very basics of photography, but it would be able to go into much greater detail than I can."

"I see." Scorn replied. "We found the device on them, so I suppose I should've assumed they'd be the ones best equip to divulge its functionality."

Black nodded. "This on the other hand," he said, grabbing the M16, "I can tell you all about."

He held the gun up with his free hand.

"It's called an M16. It's a gun. Do you guys have those?"

"Rifles?" Scorn asked. "Yes, we have those. While this M16 looks similar to our ██████ rifles, our analysts have been unable to determine how this object is supposed to propel any sort of projectile forward."

"What do you mean? It's a gun, I thought you said you had those."

"Like I said, we have no idea how this is supposed to be a gun."

Black shook his head. "Do I really need to explain the basics of this gun to you? Pulling the trigger releases the hammer, which sparks the gunpowder in cartridge, which then sends the bullet flying forward at high speed."

Scorn just stared at him. "I apologize, but I did not understand a good amount of what you said."

Oh for the love of…

"How about I demonstrate for you?"

"You're asking permission to use a gun?"

He shrugged. "Seems like the only way to get you to understand."

Scorn went silent. They made a hissing sound after a few seconds. "Very well, give me a second."

They released their hand from the orb and walked towards the door. Opening it, they stuck their head through and made a clicking noise down the hall. Several seconds later, a Krekel in blue armor stepped inside. In their hands was a slim, boxy looking rifle with a square barrel.

Must be their version of a gun. How the hell is that supposed thing to work?

Black shook the thought from his mind and he grabbed one of the magazines. Sliding it into place, he cocked the gun and aimed it at the wall. He was about to flip the safety off, but stopped and touched the orb.

"Might want to cover your ears… or whatever you Krekels use to hear."

Moving his hand back up to the handle before Scorn could respond, Black switched the safety off, and pulled the trigger.

There was a small click… and nothing.

The hell? He thought, turning the M16 in his hands. He aimed and pulled the trigger again. Nothing, not even a click.

Is it jammed or something?

He checked the chamber, everything was as it should be. So why wasn't it firing.

"Hold on." Black said, placing the M16 down and grabbing the handgun. Again, he loaded the gun and made sure everything was in place. Aiming the pistol at the wall, he pulled the trigger.

Again, a click. Again, nothing.

"I don't understand." Black said, mildly frustrated. "It's not working."

"How is it supposed to work?"

"I told you." Black said. "When I pull the trigger, the gunpowder in the cartridge is ignited, sending the bullet forward."

"…I do apologize." Scorn said. "I'm not able to understand some of what you are saying."

Black groaned. "What didn't you understand?"

"The word after trigger and after cartridge."

"Gunpowder and ignited?"

"Yes." Scorn said.

Black stopped and thought for a moment. How do they not understand gunpowder and ignite? Is there just no translation for it in… what should I call it… Krekese? Anyway, how is that even possible, unless…

He ejected a bullet from the M9 chamber and held it up. "Do you know what this is?"

"No."

He gripped the top and pulled, ripping the tip off the casing. Tipping the cartridge, he let the gray powder pour onto the table.

"Do you have any idea what that is?" He asked, pointing to the gunpowder.

"No." Scorn replied. "Our analysts have been running every test we have to identify the substance, and all have come back with negative results."

"So you and the Foundation have never seen gunpowder before?"

"No. Again, that word is outside my vocabulary."

Black thought some more. Well, that explains why they didn't understand me, but I still don't know why they couldn't get igni-

An idea occurred to Black. It was ridicules, but given everything he'd seen, not outside the realm of possibilities.

"Do you understand spark?"

"No."

"Do you understand flame?"

"No.

"Do you understand combustion?"

"No."

Well there you have it. He thought. The reason my guns don't work is because the essential reaction of combustion doesn't exist in this reality. Honestly should've expected some bullshit like that, assuming every reality has its own set of rules, or in this case lack there of.

The door opened, and another Krekel in blue armor stepped in. They clicked at Scorn, who removed their hand from the globe and clicked back. After a few minutes of speaking, Scorn returned their hand to the orb.

"It appears SCP-105 has awoken. By the sounds of it, they are is in deep distress. I advise we make our way back to them." They pointed to the objects on the table. "Feel free to take your belongings with you."

"Really?" Black said in surprise. "I can just… take my items with me?"

"Of course." Scorn replied. "It's stated in our Code of Ethics that any objects found on a sapient abnormal is to be returned to them, so long as it doesn't threaten the safety or security of the abnormal or Foundation personnel."

"Alright." Black zipped his backpack open and began shoving his items into it. Then he holstered his handgun, position his MES helmet in the pack, and grabbed his M16. Finally, he reached into his backpack and snatched a ration bar, before zipping it up.

"Can you take the camera?" Black said as he opened the ration. "My hands are kind of full."

"Of course." Scorn said, grabbing the device. Black took a bite from his bar, and together he, Scorn, and the two Kerkels began making their way back to SCP-105.

The door opened with a woosh as Black and Scorn approached the room. It just occurred to him that he had no idea how it opened.

SCP-105 was sitting on its bed, hugging its legs and staring wide eyed into nothing. Fear covered its face. It turned its head to Black and pointed to Scorn.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE THOSE THINGS?!" It blurted.

"Calm down." Black said, raising a hand. "They're called Krekels, and they're friendly."

105 took a shaky breath, attempting to calm down. "Where are we?"

"An alternate SCP Foundation."

"These… things…" It said, motioning to Scorn. "…are Foundation?"

"This reality's equivalent, yes."

"And, they're friendly?"

"Just like I said."

105 took another deep breath. "Ok… ok…"

Scorn clicked. Black turned and placed a hand on the globe.

"Are they still distressed?"

"It's starting to calming down. I think it's best if you let me fill it in on everything before asking about the camera."

"Very well." Scorn said. "Do you require privacy?"

"No, I'm just explaining our situation to it."

"Then I shall remain here as you explain it to them."

Black turned and began walking to 105.

"You can understand it?" 105 asked.

He nodded. "At least whenever I touch the plasma globe."

"Ok… so, do you have a plan to get back to our world."

Black stopped in his tracks.

"Well, I'm not certain-"

"Oh fuck…" 105 muttered, staring back into space. "Oh fuck fuck fuck."

It's afraid.

Of course it's afraid, it's 15.

Black sighed, then squatted down so he was eye level with the object.

"Look," he started, "I'm not 100% sure on how to get back, but I have an idea. Do you remember those 354 instances that were popping out of thin air across Canada?"

105 nodded.

"Ok, well, this Foundation has been dealing with those exact same creatures. Remember how that beetle thing crawled into the pool and disappeared? It ended up here, which means there has to some way they're getting back."

It turned to him. "You think there's another portal somewhere here?"

"I'd be shocked if there wasn't, but the problem is actually getting there. I have no idea what or where it is, and something tells me the Foundation isn't going to just let us go."

"Especially if they're like our Foundation."

"Exactly. Which is why when they asked how we got here, I told them we were private explorers who stumbled across the green pool. Us being from another universe's Foundation increases our value to them, which means they'll want to take greater care of us. Best if we kept that fact a secret."

"I see what you mean." 105 replied. "Then I should keep my powers to myself?"

"Please."

"Ok…" 105 said, nodding. It took one late deep breath. "Alright. So what's the plan for right now?"

"Just play along and keep your eyes open. We still know little to nothing about this world, so gathering information is what we should start with, then we'll go from there."

Black got to his feet and pointed to the Krekel. "This is Scorn, they're going to ask you to explain the function of your camera, ok? If they ask about what we were doing before coming here, tell them we were just exploring a cave system when we lost our footing and fell into the pool. Do not tell them about the Foundation or your powers. Alright?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"You sure."

"Yes, Black, I'm fine."

Black looked it over, then turned and walked over to Scorn.

"You can ask your questions now."

"Excellent." Scorn said. They walked over to 105 and offered it the globe.

"██████." Scorn clicked as 105 touched the object.

"Yeah." It replied. "I can understand you."

"██████."

"Uh, sure."

SCP-105 stood and began walking over to the couch. Scorn, meanwhile, approached Black.

"There is no need for you to remain present during our conversation." They said.

Black nodded. "That's fine. I'm just going to hang out on my bed then."

"Very well." Scorn replied.

Turning, Black sat on his mattress and dropped his backpack to the floor. Unzipping it, he pulled out the book he had taken with him. He opened it to where he had left off, but instead of reading, allowed himself to listen in on the conversation Scorn and 105 were holding.

"██████."

"It's called a Polaroid One Step Express camera. I got it a few years ago for Chri-"

"██████."

"Oh… right. Sorry. Never mind then."

"██████."

"Yeah, I can demonstrate." 105 said, grabbing the camera. It fiddled with the device for a few moments, before raising it. There was a click, and a polaroid processed out a few seconds later.

"See?" It said, raising the photograph.

"██████."

"Wait, so then how do you get pictures?"

"██████."

"Really?" 105 said in disbelief. "That… and that works?"

"██████."

"Wow. I didn't even know that was… wow." It leaned back.

"██████." Scorn slid a few polaroids towards 105. "██████."

"These are some photos I took in my world. I thought they were still in my jacket." It motioned towards the coat on the floor.

"██████."

"Mainly of a cavern me and Black were exploring. Nothing you'd be interested in."

"██████."

"I mean… go ahead."

Scorn reached down and took one of the photographs, sliding it into a pocket on its white cloth vest.

"██████."

"No problem, and um…" 105 glanced at Black, before turning to Scorn. "Can you just call me Iris?"

Black looked up.

"██████."

"It… most certainly isn't what I desire."

Scorn looked over at Black, then turned back to 105.

"██████."

"Well he's kind of an asshole."

Black scoffed and shook his head.

"██████."

"Thanks."

"██████."

"I will."

The two rose. Scorn exited the room, while 105 turned to Black.

"They say their going to speak to their superiors about sharing more information with us."

"Information about what?" Black asked.

"No idea." It said, walking across the room. "They also said it's past recreation hours, so we're going to have to stay in here."

105 dropped down onto its bed. Black didn't respond, instead turning his gaze back to his book. They sat in silence for a few moments. Eventually, it spoke up.

"You are an asshole, Black."

Here we go.

"Why did you tell Scorn my name was SCP-105?"

"Because it is." He said coldly.

"MY NAME ISN'T-" It snapped. Black turned to it. 105 took a deep breath. "SCP-105 is my designation, not my name."

"There's no difference." He replied, returning to his book.

"Oh come on, Black." It started. "We're stranded in an alternate dimension. Doesn't that warrant some leeway on-"

"No." He interrupted. "Skipnaming isn't up for discussion, let alone debate."

"Well at least don't call me a skip." It retorted.

Black didn't respond. Silence again filled the room.

"Did they offer you food?" 105 asked after a few minutes.

Black sighed, then reached into his pack and tossed the remaining ration bar to 105.

"…thanks." It said quietly as it torn the wrapper open.

6 hours had passed since Scorn had left the room. 6 hours of sitting in silence.

Black had gotten to the last few chapters of the book, but was kind of hoping NOT to finish it before returning to his world. Unfortunately, there wasn't much else to do.

105, meanwhile, had spent the past hour pacing the room. Before that, it laid on the couch staring at the ceiling. Before that, sitting on the bed toying with its camera.

The only words Black and 105 had exchanged since were when it tried reaching into one of the photographs it had taken back of the cavern.

"Dammit." 105 cursed when its hand bent the polaroid back. "I can't reach into the photograph. I can't even see the image move." It aggressively tossed the picture aside, evidently frustrated.

Now they sat, waiting for whatever was coming next.

I wonder if it's anxious. Black thought.

He himself was feeling a little on edge. More so because of not knowing what was going to happen, rather than not knowing what was currently happening.

Finally, the door opened, and Black looked up to see Scorn enter the room with the orb and a piece of paper. Black put his book down and stood.

"I have excellent news!" Scorn exclaimed as he touched the globe. "Have Iris join us over at the table."

SCP-105. He whispered in his head.

Black nodded and turned to it. "They want both of us over at the table."

105 made its was over to the couch. Black sat in one of the chairs, while Scorn took a seat in the other. The 3 of them outstretched their arms, touching the orb.

"I have finished speaking with my superiors. After careful evaluation and discussion, we have come to the verdict that the Foundation is no longer in need of you…"

Black reached for his knife.

"…As such, we will help escort you to your home dimension."

"What?" Black said, stopping dead.

"The SCP Foundation will help you return home."

Well there's something I never thought I'd here.

"That's…" 105 laughed in relief. "That's wonderful."

"Well hold on." Black interjected. "Do you even know how to send us back?"

"We have an idea." Scorn replied. "But to explain it, you will need to be familiar with your Special Object file."

"Our what?" 105 asked.

"Special Objects is what they call anomalies." Black said, pointing to the paper. "So that's, what, your guy's file on us?"

"Indeed. Or at least, your parent file."

Parent file?

"Now…" Scorn started. "I'm assuming neither of you are able to read ██████."

"Don't even know what you said."

"As I thought. I'm going to have to read the file aloud to you."

Scorn pulled the paper up to its face and began reading.

Object Credentials: Special Object 354

Hazard Rating: /̵̢̼̿̿͠\̶̛͚͉̬̑̓/̶̞̙̍͆\̵̛̯̥̃\̵̪̦͍͠\̶͎̣̀̋̿\̶̠͓͗\̵̡͙̈́͆-̵̛̩͈̅͐ͅ-̴̱̘͎̄́̿_̵̨͋͊͝=̴̩̌̕/̸͓̼̈́̋͌\̷̮̣͎̏͘

Containment Protocols: Special Object 354-A is to be monitored at all times for manifestations of Special Object 354-B instances. In the event of a -B manifestation, Strike-Force: Foxtrot is to be deployed and will attempt an eliminate the -B instant. Methods of successfully eliminating a -B are currently ongoing.

Special Object 354-C is to be guarded at all times, and no personnel under Security Clearance Gamma are permitted within -C's containment area. When -B manifests, all personnel stationed at -C are to be evacuated, and Strike-Force: Kilo are to prep for an elimination attempt.

Description: Special Object 354-A is an altar made of an unknown material. It measures 16 feet long, 10 feet wide, and 4 feet high. All attempts to remove or relocate -A have failed. Occasionally, an instance of Special Object 354-B will manifest on -A. Although it varies, -B usually appears in 10 year intervals, with the shortest amount of time between manifestations being 9.8 years and the longest being 11.5 years.

Special Object 354-B is made of up 3 51 different instances, labeled 354-B-1, -2, and -3 respectively. There is currently no observable pattern in which an -B instant will spawn from -A. The current theory is that the -B instant that manifests is completely random.

354-B-1 is a long entity with several small appendages used for movement. It measures 264 feet long and 22 feet wide. 354-B-2 is a large creature with eight appendages, two torso parts, and eight visionaries. It measures 37 feet long and 19 feet wide. 354-B-3 is a creature that looks similar to the \̸̞̰̎̑͑\̵̡͑͠\̶̧̬̙͂/̷͍̂͘\̸̢͉̝̊̾/̶͉͓̌͗-̵̡̙͖̅̊͊_̵̰͝\̶̮̯͘/̴̜̈́/̵͕́̚\̵̲̦̬͐ĺ̷̺̼7̶͙̳̫̊͝=̵̥̖̩͝-̴̯́;̴̧͓̘̀̇ species, though is significantly larger. All attempts to neutralize a -B instant have failed. See Add-On: -B Elimination Attempts.

When a -B instant manifests, it will attack any personnel it come in contact with. After which, it will make its way to Special Object 354-C. It is unclear how the -B instances are aware of -C's location, or why it enters -C at all.

Special Object 354-C is a large black pool located 274 miles north-east of Special Object 354-A. Any object that enters 354-C will disappear. Attempts to perform reconnaissance within -C have failed. See Add-On: -C Exploration Attempts.

Add-On: -B Elimination Attempts: [CLASSIFIED]

Add-On: -C Exploration Attempts: [CLASSIFIED]

Add-On: Special Object 354-B-4/5 Manifestation: On ███/█/█████, 2 previously undocumented manifestations of Special Object 354-B appeared on 354-A. Unlike previous instances, these appeared to be sentient beings. They were transported to Location-██ and have been designated Special Object 354-B-4 and Special Object 354-B-5.

Special Object 354-B-4 is a [̷̝͊\̸̨̔/̴̌͒ͅ-̸͓̈́/̴͔̫͋\̶̳̺̇̏/̶̜̍\̵̣͛͠ǒ̴̞|̶̦̀<̴͔͐̈́ like entity. They measure 5.05 feet tall and weigh 50 kilograms. They have extremely pale-brown skin, white visionaries with a blue and black center, and yellow hair located at the top of the head. Their desired name is SCP-105 Iris.

Special Object 354-B-5 is a [̷̝͊\̸̨̔/̴̌͒ͅ-̸͓̈́/̴͔̫͋\̶̳̺̇̏/̶̜̍\̵̣͛͠ǒ̴̞|̶̦̀<̴͔͐̈́ like entity. They measure 6.16 feet tall and weigh 95 kilograms. They have extremely pale-brown skin, white visionaries with a brown and black center, and black hair located at the top and front of the head. Their desired name is Agent Black.

Footnotes

1. See Add-On: Special Object 354-B-4/5 Manifestation

"As you probably could've guessed." Scorn started. "The running theory is that Special Object 354-C will transport you back to your home reality."

"Another pool, huh?" 105 said. Black had to admit, he was getting tired on the universe's lack of creativity.

"And you're certain that will take us home?" He asked.

"Like I said, it's the running theory."

"These creatures, they would crawl into the pool and, what, just disappear?"

"Yes."

"That's it then." Black said, turning to 105. "That's our way back."

"When do we leave?" 105 asked eagerly.

"Not for a while unfortunately." Scorn said. "The sun is out, any expedition will have to wait for night."

"Why?" Black asked.

"It… is the sun."

"Yeah, and?"

Scorn remained silent for a minute.

"In your world, does the sun not extract energy from living beings?"

"Um, no?" 105 said. "It gives energy, mainly to plants."

"I see." Scorn replied. "Well in this world, the sun extracts energy. Lengthy exposure can be lethal. We refer to death that way as ██████."

"Wait… so how is energy transferred through the food chain?"

"The flora absorbs energy from ground, which rises up from the core of the planet."

That's… interesting…

"How long will it be until the sun sets?" Black asked.

"Several hours. In the meantime…" Scorn said, rising. "I advise you get some sleep. Like I said, several hours until it is safe to leave, and you will want to be fully revitalized for the journey."

Scorn reached down and grabbed the paper. "I will come back and get you when it is time to depart."

And with that, the Krekel turned and left the room. Black and 105 stayed where they were, until the rushing sound indicated the door had remanifested.

"We're going back to our world." 105 said, turning to Black.

"mm hmm." Black said. Now that Scorn had mentioned it, he was feeling tired. He stood and made his way over to his bed.

"I'll sleep later." 105 said. "I'm not very tired right now."

"Alright." Black said, laying down. He wondered how he'd actually fall asleep. The kevlar uniform was incredibly uncomfortable, but he was too cold to take it off.

I meant to ask Scorn about the temperature, dammit.

"Why don't you take that heavy gear off?"

"Because it's cold." Black replied.

105 furrowed its brow. "I'm not cold."

Black turned to it. It was wearing just a black T-shirt with Omega-7's insignia printed on the heart. The jacket it had been wearing was thrown off to the side.

How is it not cold?

"Maybe heat is inverted or something." 105 said shrugging. "I mean, I WAS cold before I took my jacket off, and if the sun works differently here, maybe temperature does too?"

"That's…" Black said, but stopped and thought for a moment. Combustion didn't work either, the laws of this reality were different to the laws of their reality. Maybe hot and cold were switched.

Black pulled one of his heavy gloves off. Immediately, his hand warmed up.

"Son of a bi-" He looked over at 105. "-gun." It gave him a look. He ignored it, and instead began taking off his gear and uniform until he was in nothing but a black T-shirt identical to 105's. The difference being that his shirt had Delta-4's insignia.

"Wake me if something bad happens." He said, laying down. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

<< Foreigners | Hub | For The Present >>