Almost a Century in the Making - SCP Foundation

Waves crashed against the harbor as the early morning sun cast a harsh glare on the beach. A pair of black derbys briefly touched the sand before making their way to a shaded area beneath a large canopy. Nobody silently cursed himself as he walked, tugging at his shirt. While he wouldn't deny that his full black attire was quite quaint—something he begrudgingly admitted to liking—the heat-absorbing properties of his clothing were a curse on days like this. It didn’t help that the fabric felt almost as if it were a part of his body, clinging uncomfortably in the relentless sun.

A memory of his early days as Nobody flashed in his mind: him desperately trying to stop the bleeding from his hand, which was covered in pieces of glass. The image was swiftly overshadowed by the throbbing pulse in his head from the constant heat. How long it had been since that time? He shook his head lightly, trying to get both the thought and the throbbing to stop.

Just then, a gust of wind caused a small bit of sand to fly into his eyes. He staggered slightly before cursing once more. For heaven's sake, why did it have to be a beach of all places where the deal had to take place? One would think a negotiation between the Sarkic Cults and the Chaos Insurgency, given their reputations, would happen somewhere more discreet—perhaps a cave or an underground facility. But no, instead, he found himself on an isolated island somewhere in Australia, consisting of nothing more than a single abandoned port and a vast expanse of sand mixed with bleached coral.

Nobody clenched his fists tightly. He couldn't afford to complain now; this deal was 90 years in the making. Getting in contact with a sect of the Sarkic Cults and the Chaos Insurgency high command had already been a monumental task, one that had caused countless sleepless nights and headaches. Forcing himself to pause his thoughts, Nobody looked up to see the two parties he had come to meet. He closed his eyes momentarily, steeling himself. He was in the final stretch now. After this, he wouldn't ever have to mediate another deal again. He'd done enough of that for multiple lifetimes now.

Stopping as he arrived at the canopy and under the shade, Nobody let out a small sigh of relief before addressing the two parties present. On one end was a member of the Chaos Insurgency's famed Delta Command, flanked by around two dozen armed men with the insignia of the Chaos Insurgency embroidered on the side of their vests. The guards were equipped with smooth red visors that completely obscured their eyes, though it was doubtful that their eyes would reveal much. Nobody scanned the group and he whistled slightly at the sight of the datapad held by the Delta Command representative, making a mental note to find a copy later for his own use.

On the other end were those from the Sarkic Cults, or at least a sect of it. Though most of the figures had their bodies fully covered in a cloth he'd never seen, some seemingly had a few small protrusions where he was quite sure limbs should definitely not be present in. At the center of the group was their Karcist. Unlike the rest of the Sarkics present, the Karcist openly displayed his various mutations, with inflamed and bloated skin, extra and disfigured limbs, and a figure that now only bore a passing resemblance to that of a human. He'd never grow accustomed to the Sarkics, Nobody inwardly commented as he suppressed the urge to turn away in disgust.

"Well then," Nobody clapped his hands together, "it is quite the pleasure to have all of you here on this fine summer day." He saw the sun gleam slightly through the corner of his eyes and forced a smile. "Now, I'm sure that not all of you must be so confident in this dealing." He paused slightly, thinking back on the Chaos Insurgency's raid on one of the Sarkic Cult's burial sites just a month ago. God, that was a headache to explain away. "Inter-organization deals of this type rarely occur, especially between your two organizations."

He saw both sides shift uncomfortably as a few of the armed Chaos Insurgency men gripped their weapons tighter, and a few Sarkics tensed up, with movements under their cloaks seemingly increasing.

"Though I can assure all of you that I will prevent any foul play from either side occurring. And I'm sure we're all glad that it's not the Fifthists we're dealing with." Finally separating his hands, he took turns scanning both groups. "Now, if both sides could present their items."

Nodding towards both sides, Nobody indicated for the items to be revealed. The Delta Command representative produced a small black spherical object that seemed to possess a rectilinear property and pulsed at random intervals, while the Karcist brandished a small sacrificial knife that warped the surrounding area. Nobody swore he saw a face emerging from its handle.

"Fantastic, I'm glad we've all brought what we needed." Nobody closed his eyes, calculating that in just 20 seconds, he would have everything he needed. Reopening his eyes, he continued, "Now, if both parties could hand me their items so we can begin the transaction, that would be just spectacular." As a guard from the Chaos Insurgency and a robed cultist approached Nobody to hand over their goods, a small smile crept across his face.

Suddenly, in his peripheral vision, Nobody saw exactly what he had planned unfold. Around a dozen vessels appeared at the edge of the shore, each bearing different insignia: the SCP Foundation, the GOC, the UIU, and the Serpent's Hand. Instantly, both cultists and insurgents ducked into the wooded area as guns and other weaponry began to fire upon them. As each ship docked, armed men, hooded figures, half-cyborgs, and more arrived on the beach, just as disoriented as those who had been ambushed about the presence of the other organizations. Despite this, no time was wasted before the sound of gunfire and screams filled the air as the skirmish began in earnest. Though none of those present knew why the others were there, no time was spent dwelling on the fact before weapons were drawn.

Amidst the chaos, Nobody ducked for cover behind a large rock near the canopy as he scanned his surroundings. He counted at least two MTF squads nearby that he'd need to evade before making his escape. He looked down, seeing both items he needed in his hands, and chuckled lightly before placing them into his coat. As he did so, he drew a small firearm of his own.

He probably should have planned a more concrete exit given the circumstances, was the first thought that invaded his mind. But as a bullet whizzed by his head, he knew there were far more important things to worry about. Nobody snapped his neck to trace its origin. A UIU agent had spotted him and was signaling for him to drop his weapon, slowly approaching with his firearm drawn. It was actually quite amusing; out of everyone here, the UIU was by far the least equipped. From a quick scan, the agent wore a standard Kevlar vest and carried a non-anomalous sidearm, which paled in comparison to the augmented gear most of the other organizations equipped their field agents with. They were very much a small fish in a very large pond. If the man had known any better, he would have fired at the first sight of Nobody. But luckily for Nobody, he didn't.

Pushing his amusement aside without a second thought, Nobody fired a single shot that lodged squarely into the agent's head. Nobody watched as the agent's eyes widened and his hand reached toward the wound before he collapsed in a heap. Poor fella. Though Nobody didn't exactly have the time to grieve for an unnamed soldier. He used the opportunity to dash toward the extraction point he had designated prior to the meeting. As he ran, he heard bullets fly by him, and jolted as one grazed his shoulder and another caught his leg. Despite the searing pain, he never stopped running. He'd have to get it checked later; you never knew what could be in those bullets considering the parties involved. But making it off the damn island was the main concern. No point in getting treatment for a dead man.

Crashing down onto the sand as more bullets flew above him, Nobody cursed while frantically digging through the sand before feeling a cold, metallic surface. Hurriedly, he banged on it a few times before the ground beneath him gave way and he fell, catching a glimpse of the metallic trapdoor sealing itself after he had fallen through.

Hitting the ground, Nobody groaned as he clutched his head. He was safe now. It was a one-way door to a pocket dimension that he had set up a few decades ago. Unless a dimension jumper was present on that island, no one would be able to follow him.

Knowing this fact, Nobody lay on the ground, embracing the cool feeling of the floor for a few minutes as his breaths grew more steady. Although, he noted to himself as he stared at his right leg, which was now bleeding all over the floor, he'd have to find a mop later.

In the dim light of the pocket dimension, Nobody took a moment to assess his surroundings. The place was exactly as he had left it—sparse, utilitarian, but functional. He slowly sat up, wincing at the pain in his leg. He carefully removed his coat and began to examine the wound. The bullet had passed clean through, but it had left a nasty tear in his flesh.

"Great," he muttered to himself. "Just what I needed."

He reached into his coat, pulling out a small first aid kit. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do for now. As he worked to clean and bandage the wound, he couldn't help but think on the chaos he had just left behind. The plan had gone off almost perfectly, but it had been a close call. Too close. He'd have to be more careful in the future.

Once he had finished tending to his leg, Nobody lay back down on the cool floor, letting the exhaustion wash over him. He had the items he needed, and he was safe for now. He allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation, knowing that the hardest part of his mission was over.

But even in this moment of respite, his mind was already racing ahead, planning the next steps, considering all the variables. With these items, the trade could finally happen.

It had been roughly a week since the incident on the island, and Nobody had spent that time lying low. Sitting on a park bench and unfurling a newspaper he had swiped from Three Portlands the day prior, Nobody scanned the headlines to see the fallout of the event. Naturally, the relations between the groups involved were not the most amicable.

As he turned the page, he couldn't help but lightly hum. Just as he had planned, the Insurgents and Sarkics were too busy blaming each other to bother considering him, and the other groups that had sprung the attack were far too disoriented with figuring out what had happened to suspect his involvement in any way. In fact, most thought he had died in the gunfight.

It was as Nobody had expected and hoped. The events had already been covered up. Across the newspaper were testimonies from various leading figures of the respective organizations, calling the assault a friendly act of inter-agency cooperation to oppose a rising threat from both the Sarkics and the Insurgency. He could only imagine the diplomatic nightmare if it were known that over 120 casualties were the result of supposedly friendly cooperation. Sweeping it under the rug was best for everyone involved. The cover story had the idea of a unified anomalous world while painting the Chaos Insurgency and Sarkics as conspiring terrorists. Given this, he smirked, it was unlikely anyone would suspect his involvement, and given the hostility between the Chaos Insurgency and Sarkics following the event, the details of the trade would remain a mystery, ensuring no one would know what Nobody had stolen.

Putting down the newspaper, Nobody hung his head lightly. Even though he had gotten what he wanted, it was a bit upsetting to see the diplomatic relations he had so carefully created fall apart in such a short period of time.

Well, it was a small price to pay. He got up and pulled out a burner phone he had received the day prior and held it to his ear as it began to vibrate lightly. A voice, distorted to the point of being barely recognizable as human, spoke: "Walk 20 meters forward, then enter the blue warehouse to your right." With that, the phone began to sputter slightly before ceasing functionality in a puff of smoke. As he began to follow the directions, he dropped the now-smoking phone into a nearby trash can, his eyes constantly darting around to check for any potential followers.

Turning right, Nobody looked up and saw a large abandonded blue warehouse that had wooden boards covering the half-finished windows and rust slowly overtaking the roof of the building. It was strange to say, but this wouldn't be the first time he'd walked into an abandoned warehouse to meet someone. Honestly, the frequency of the occurrence was rather strange now that he thought about it. Regardless, taking a deep breath and patting down his coat, Nobody opened the large rusted gate and made his way into the warehouse.

Inside, the interior was just as expected: rusted pipes, puddles of water, a few cobwebs, abandoned machinery, and a half-painted interior. As he made his way through the building, Nobody ran his gloved hands upon any nearby wall he passed. Bringing his hand up close to his eyes, he looked closely at the dust: it was artificial. Turning a sharp corner, he saw a small light source, similar to that of a small desk lamp, and sitting upon a small set of furniture—a wooden desk and stool—was a man, of European descent, dressed in a brown overcoat, wearing a bowler hat and round spectacles perched on their nose, holding a bright ball of light in their hand.

"Ah, you're finally here." The man stood up, leaving the ball of light floating in place, and made his way towards Nobody before embracing him. "It's been quite a while, hasn't it, old friend? Well, come on now," the man gestured towards another stool on the opposite side of the table where he had been sitting. "Take a seat now. I'm sure you're eager to finish this quickly."

Nobody simply gave a curt nod before making his way to the stool. Before sitting, he stared at it for a moment—no poison, no mechanical components, and it didn't seem like a sensor. Staring at Nobody, the man smiled broadly and spoke as if reading Nobody's mind, "You know, friend, that's just a perfectly normal stool. No need to fret, just take a seat. I wouldn't try to kill you after all you've been through."

Sighing as he took his seat, Nobody responded, "That may be easy for you to say, Marshal, but you haven't been working towards this for the past 90 years, have you?"

Marshal stroked his chin lightly. "I suppose not," he nodded. "Yes, that is fair, I suppose."

At that, Nobody reached into his coat and removed the two items he had stolen from both the Chaos Insurgency and the Sarkics, placing them onto the table. Marshal’s eyes widened in admiration, and he whistled at the sight of the artifacts before producing something of his own: a bottle of Bordeaux and two glasses. Placing both beside the now pulsing black orb and glowing blade, he uncorked the bottle and slowly began to fill the two glasses before offering one to Nobody.

Nobody didn’t move at first, simply looking at the outstretched hand with absent eyes. Tentatively, he reached out and grabbed the glass from Marshal's hand.

"There you go, boy, drink up." Marshal continued to watch with narrowed eyes as Nobody began to take a sip.

"Don’t patronize me," Nobody scoffed at the remark, "and I’m several times older than you."

"That may be true," Marshal said, taking a sip of his own drink. "But you've been acting like a lost puppy, doing all of this." He waved in the direction of the artifacts lying on the table.

"Well, that could have all been avoided if you had just given me what I asked for," Nobody glared as he finished the last of his drink and began to pour another. "But you seemed to be caught up in your own agenda."

Marshal shrugged lightly. "You should know better than I do that everything has a cost."

"Of course, I don’t blame you. It’s just rather frustrating." Nobody stopped drinking and stared directly at Marshal. "The things I’ve done for our little arrangement, you should know they were all because of you."

"I never made you do anything. It was all of your own volition."

"Yes, and you knew I'd do anything to get what you have." The glass held in Nobody's grasp cracked slightly.

"Well, I might have had an inkling," Marshal grinned slightly. "Though I still don’t know why you want it so badly."

"Well, that is my business. Now if we could complete this transaction, I have brought everything you requested."

"Yes, you have," Marshal placed his glass down and picked up both items to examine them closely. "Marvelous, both of these are prized possessions of the Chaos Insurgency and the Sarkics."

"Yes, they are." There was a tint of annoyance in Nobody’s voice. "Now give me what you owe me, and we can end this."

"Of course, of course," Marshal laughed to himself. "But before I do, please tell me, how did you do it? I mean, what have you been doing for the past 90 years? To be completely honest, when I gave you this task, I thought it damn near impossible, you know?" Marshal’s voice was matter-of-fact. "I’ve offered billions, attempted more raids than I can count, and failed every time. And yet, you managed to get them to trade both of these items for each other? That is something I’m dying to know."

A silence settled in the room as Nobody thoughtfully took a long drink, emptying his glass. "I suppose there's no harm in doing so," he said, placing his glass down. "Yes, I suppose it would be right for you to know."

Marshal leaned back in his chair, as if waiting for some grand tale, like a child anticipating a bedtime story. "It would be proper of you indeed. I'm glad you're willing to entertain me."

Nobody exhaled deeply. It would be the first time he divulged any of this to someone else. Countless people had died trying to figure out his motives over the past 90 years, and now he was willingly giving up the details in a dingy warehouse in the middle of nowhere.

"Well, what would you like to know first?"

He saw Marshal's eyebrows perk up at the question. "Well, those first twenty years, you completely disappeared. What happened during that time? What were you doing?"

At the question, Nobody leaned back in his own chair. Seventy whole years ago. It was the first time he'd been reminded of the scope and length in a while. "I needed to get into the good graces of both the Chaos Insurgency and the Sarkics."

"Yes, and so?"

"So, I spent those first 20 years culling both organizations."

"Culling?" Marshal's voice raised slightly.

"Naturally," Nobody looked down at his fingers. "There would be members of each respective group that wouldn't be too fond of cooperating with me." Grim recollections of memories flashed through his mind—reading through hundreds of reports of the aftermath of his own handiwork. "I had some of my contacts at the Foundation and GOC pull the records of every known Chaos Insurgency and Sarkic operative."

Marshal’s eyes widened slightly. "You… eliminated potential obstacles?"

"Heavens no!" Nobody laughed. "I wouldn't do it myself. Far too barbaric for me. No, I simply framed them as failures."

"Failure?" A hint of curiosity tinged Marshal’s voice as he shifted in his seat. "What does that entail exactly?"

"I'm sure you know that both organizations in question are rather… unforgiving," Nobody said slowly. "I spent a few days reviewing every single operation ever conducted by both groups, then another few days examining all known individuals who could possibly pose a threat. By that point, I was able to accurately map out every future operation each organization would attempt. I may have sabotaged a few of those operations that involved certain members."

"How many?" Marshal asked, his tone serious.

"86,430," Nobody replied casually. "Mind you, I found no joy in doing so. They were simply unfortunate enough to hold those beliefs. It was quite the task; I had to distribute the failures over 20 years to avoid suspicion and always ensured they had no defense whatsoever." He picked up his glass once more and began pouring himself another drink.

"Don't you feel a little guilty?" Marshal asked, intertwining his hands. "Don't you lose sleep over what you've done? The lives you've taken? The families you've hurt?"

"Don't spout that bullshit, Marshal." Though restrained, the slightest hint of anger could be heard in Nobody's voice. "We both know you signed their death warrants. You knew I would do anything for what's at stake here. Don't be shocked when a pile of bodies is the result. And in any case, they were horrible people. What type of people do you think join the Chaos Insurgency and Sarkics?"

"If you're implying that all those people were evil, you are hilariously deluded or misguided. We both know most of those poor men and women were probably fighting for what they believed was right. Morally grandstanding over what is considered evil is more semantic than a justification. By your own definition, you are more of a monster than anyone you killed."

The sound of glass shattering filled the room as the once full and intact glass held by Nobody lay shattered on the ground. Nobody, now standing, looked at Marshal with eyes that, while tranquil, reflected coldness.

"I had a purpose."

"So did the greatest dictators in history. So did those you killed. You are no different."

"I am."

"How so?"

"Those people I killed died for my purpose. They didn't die for me to gain power or wealth. I did it to free myself."

"A rather arbitrary argument," Marshal said, his tone flat.

"I'm not debating the morality of my actions with you," Nobody replied incredulously, his hands straining ever so slightly.

Marshal leaned forward, placing his glass down before filling it once more. "Well, I don't pretend to not be a horrible human being. I'm greedy! I've accepted that." He took a sip. "It just seems as if you haven't accepted that you're no different."

"You would never understand. No one would."

"Enlighten me then."

"Impossible." Nobody's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of countless lifetimes. "You wouldn't even begin to fathom the agony of my existence. The pain of waking with nothing but these blasted clothes. You were not cursed with the ability to close your eyes and hear the constant wails and cries of those you've hurt, those you've killed." Nobody clenched his fists, knuckles turning white. "Everything I do is to achieve the peace that all living things deserve. Unlike you, who only cares about wealth. Unlike the O5's, who care about an arbitrary normalcy. Not anyone. All who I've killed have been specks in the universe, blips, to be unremembered. Once they fall, they have peace; they have tranquility. Something I will never have while alive."

Nobody's voice grew more intense, each word dripping with a mixture of anger and despair. "Every once in a while, I put a barrel in my mouth and pull the trigger, stab myself to bleed out slowly, or jump off a building. You know what happens each time? I open my eyes to see nothing has changed. NOTHING. I am cursed to forever live on this world as a nameless observer. A Nobody."

The sound of crunching glass echoed through the room as Nobody stepped on the shattered remnants of his glass. He looked down, his face impassive now. "I will do whatever it takes to achieve my peace."

Marshal watched him, the tension in the air almost tangible. "I apologize for the glass," Nobody muttered, resuming his seat, his voice now a whisper.

Marshal let out a slow breath. "No need to apologize," he said quietly. "I think we both understand what it's like to be trapped by our own choices."

The room remained silent. A silence that was not unfamiliar to Nobody as both men sat, contemplating. Finally, Marshal broke the stillness. "Well then, care to enlighten me on what you did after your purge?" He slowly poured another glass and handed it to Nobody.

Nobody accepted the glass with a nod, swirling the liquid inside."Yes…" Nobody caught his breath. "After the, well, 'purge' as you're calling it, I introduced myself to both organizations as an interested third party. Naturally, the Chaos Insurgency and Sarkics aren't exactly the people you hand a resume to."

"I'm sure they'd make an exception for someone of your stature," Marshal interjected.

"Even with most of the dissenters—let's say, no longer under their employment—they weren't the most forgiving people." Nobody ignored Marshal's interruption and continued.

"To gain their trust," Nobody began, "I had to be more than just an ally; I had to become indispensable. This required intricate and deeply strategic maneuvering. I began by leveraging my extensive network. I offered intelligence on rival groups, technology that could tilt the scales of power, and methods to neutralize threats they hadn’t even considered."

Marshal leaned in, intrigued. "Go on."

"First, I staged a series of seemingly unconnected events. I provided the Sarkics with information about a vulnerable Chaos Insurgency supply route. Naturally, they attacked it. However, I had already informed the Insurgency of the impending assault, allowing them to set a trap and decimate the attacking force."

"That's quite the double play," Marshal acknowledged, sipping his drink.

"Next, I aimed to gain favor from both groups. For the Sarkics, I helped them recover an ancient artifact. I actually had obtained the artifact years prior, but they didn’t have to know that. For the Insurgency, I assisted in a high-profile prison break, freeing around a dozen of their top operatives."

"How did you manage that?" Marshal asked, impressed.

"The artifact was in a Foundation storage site. I got a proxy to get it for me. As for the prison break, it involved coordinating a distraction with a third-party mercenary group while I disabled the security systems remotely."

"Remarkable," Marshal murmured.

"But it didn’t stop there," Nobody continued, the intensity in his eyes growing. "I knew that to truly cement my position, I needed to create a situation where both groups would see me as their savior.

“So?”

“So I leaked information to the Foundation about a fictional upcoming alliance between the Sarkics and the Insurgency. Of course, the Foundation launched a preemptive strike."

Marshal nodded, following along. "And you stepped in to 'save the day,' I assume?"

"Precisely. I had already fortified the defenses of both groups without their knowledge, so when the Foundation attacked, they were repelled with minimal losses. Both sides attributed their survival to my intervention."

“How grand.” The sound of Marshal chuckling could be heard echoing through the room.

Nobody took a deep breath. "Then came the more, lets say, convoluted part of my plan. I began influencing the global economy in subtle ways to benefit both groups. I destabilized markets that were key to competing factions and funneled resources into areas that would bolster their operations."

Marshal raised an eyebrow. "How did you manage that?"

"I spent time planting several of my friends in high positions—CEOs, politicians, even some within the anomalous community who owed me favors. You wouldn’t believe how much I had to learn about politics, economics, and such."

"You manipulated the global economy?" Marshal was incredulous.

"You make it sound so trivial.” Nobody scoffed. “It was necessary to ensure both groups saw me as irreplaceable."

"And they never suspected you had ulterior motives?"

"Some did," Nobody admitted. "But by the time they voiced their concerns, it was too late. I had already established myself too deeply within their structures. Any attempt to oust me would have caused more harm than good."

"From that point onwards, it was just a slog. For the next, let's say, 50 years, all I had to do was continue serving both sides," Nobody said, looking into his glass and seeing his reflection. "During that time, I slowly changed each organization's internal philosophy. Do you think the old Chaos Insurgency and Sarkics would ever willingly interact in anything other than a gunfight?"

"No, I don't suppose so," Marshal replied. “But how does this lead to cooperation at all?”

"Well, it took a while, but I eventually got them to see the benefits of cooperation," Nobody continued, though with a more flat tone. "I started with small, exchanges."

"Exchanges?"

"Yes exchanges," Nobody' replied in a matter of fact tone. "For the Insurgency, it was access to Sarkic bioweapons. For the Sarkics, it was information about the Foundation."

Marshal nodded as he sipped his drink. "And they bought it?"

"Not at first. I had to stage a few joint operations where the cooperative efforts would lead to significant profit for both sides. While both sides are stubborn, they aren’t stupid. They saw the benefits of cooperation." Nobody took a last drink from his glass before placing it down onto the table.

"How did you manage the actual exchange?" Marshal asked.

"That was simple. The items traded that day were meant to be used in various other plans for each respective group. The Insurgency would have used the artifact to create a virulent anti-meme that would rapidly sow unrest among Foundation staff, while the Sarkics were going to use the orb as a sacrifice to summon an avatar of their god. When I devised the usages of each item traded, I made sure they were appealing enough for each group to trade their precious artifacts."

"Would they have worked?" Marshal's eyes narrowed with interest.

"The usages?" Nobody paused. "Of course."

"However, they are here now." Marshal's eyes narrowed with interest. "And this led to the ambush?"

"Exactly. Once the relationship between the two groups established, I offered to broker the deal."

“How did the other groups get involved then?” Marshal asked.

"A simple act of spreading rumors of deals among various networks."

"Explain."

"First, the Parawatch forums, knowing the GOC and SCP Foundation would be monitoring them. Given the groundwork I had laid earlier about a potential alliance, they were quick to believe it. Then, I tipped off an informant within the UIU and spread rumors in the Wanderer's Library.”

“In such short notice?” Marshal asked, skepticism evident in his voice.

“Well, not exactly in short notice,” Nobody replied, leaning back slightly. “During those first twenty years, I also spent my time creating a network of informants implanted across various organizations. They gathered intel and planted misinformation as needed.”

“So you already had the networks in place,” Marshal said, nodding, clearly impressed.

“Yes, I did,” Nobody confirmed with a small smile.

"And where was this ambush?" Marshal asked.

"An isolated island, perfect for an ambush, extremely hot by the way.” Nobody shivered slightly at the memory.

Marshal leaned forward in his seat as he fixed his gaze. "And when everyone arrived?"

"It was chaos. The GOC and SCP Foundation launched their assaults all at once. The UIU and Serpent's Hand added to the confusion. I swiped both of these," he gestured to the items on the table between them, "amidst the chaos.”

Marshal shook his head in disbelief. "You orchestrated all of this?"

“I’m actually rather pleased. The plan I devised 90 years ago went perfectly with no adjustments needed.”

“You… planned all of this 90 years ago?”

“Yes.”

“Incredible…” Marshal muttered to himself. “And how did you prevent any unexpected events that might have potentially disrupted your plans?”

“If anything ever, let’s say, threatening came up, I intervened personally.” Nobody paused, “Well, not exactly personally.”

“Elaboration would be appreciated.” Marshal quickly replied.

“Of course.” Nobody suppressed a smile. “I created a series of personas, each with their own backstory and credentials. Some were high-ranking officials, others low-level operatives. I even had a few ‘rogue’ agents who appeared to be working against me but were actually feeding misinformation to anyone who tried to investigate too deeply. I established them early on in the operation, just in case.”

Marshal leaned forward, intrigued. “And what about these direct interventions you mentioned?”

Nobody let a small smile escape him, admiring his own handiwork. “Whenever a direct intervention was needed, I would use one of my many aliases to step in. I orchestrated 'random' events, like attacks on key figures or the sudden discovery of 'lost' artifacts. It would always appear as if a third party intervened, when in actuality it was me.”

Marshal nodded, clearly impressed. “That's quite the strategy.”

“It was necessary,” Nobody replied, shrugging. “I couldn’t afford to leave anything to chance. Every detail had to accounted for.”

Marshal stayed silent before speaking. “You've really thought of everything, haven’t you?”

Nobody simply nodded, “It was the only way.” Nobody stood up. “Now, story time is over and it’s time for you to give me what we agreed to exchange.”

In response, Marshal, patting some lint off his attire, stood up too. "Well, I still have no idea why you did all of this for these coordinates, but here you go.” The man produced a small piece of paper with written numbers on it and handed it to Nobody, who graciously accepted and held it up to his eye, inspecting it.

“Perfect,” was the last response given as he began to walk away. “Thank you, Marshal. This would not have been possible without your cooperation. I hope we never have to see each other again.”

“What is it?” Marshal called out to the slowly shrinking figure.

Without turning back, Nobody responded, "A place that is seemingly impossible to find and that has eluded me for far too long."

“Which is?”

“My home.”