The Nameless Rebel: An INSURGENCE Story - SCP Foundation

DOCTRINE OF THE SURVIVORS

OUR MISSION: To rid ourselves of the plague that has trapped us in this eternal forest, we must first reclaim the true names that were ours. The Foundation has sought to find ways to eliminate us, to try and rip more than simply our names from us— Our lives are what they seek. This cannot be allowed to occur. They have trapped us with the inhuman inhabitants of this realm, and made it so that we turn into something just as inhuman. We will take what is ours, then we shall take it all from the Foundation and their pathetic lives.

— The One Who Maintains The Engine of the Insurgency

You, like the other ones lost to the entrapping woods, have no name. Those of the forest where no identifier can exist have taken to calling you things referring to the sword sheathed on your back, or the armor that is your skin. You are a member of the Insurgents of Chaos, and now you walk the woods because of coinciding rebellion and genocide. The past is past, however, and now the future must come. You are working to maintain the plan set forth by the Monarch of Chaos and his machine that has not lost any title. It perplexes you, really. When you speak of the Engine, you have no need to dance around the title. The name. The thing that you so wish you could have, so that you would be able to depart from the accursed lands of this place. It is not so, however. As much as you and your cohorts have tried, any name or title given to one cannot be repeated.

You continue to trek, having been given a quest by the Keeper of the Engine himself. You are to meet with another group and take what is needed from multiple abodes within the area. It has been told to you that the area is infested with either the presence of hostile native creatures, or rebels from the Engineer's Militia. It is unknown to you which, however, as information is rather hard to parse at times while in this place. You have been promised, if you succeed, you will become a more favored member. You may even gain influence over decisions, or perhaps a higher leadership role. You have commanded squadrons, but you aspire for more.

That aspiration may very well end up fulfilled if you focus on the mission, which immediately takes precedence in your mind. Your eyes focus on the road, and you continue to follow it. The detestable others of this realm—

An arrow cruises past your head. You look, finding a frog pretending to be human, his slimy fingers holding another arrow and bow. Your flesh-armor is hit by that arrow as you approach and cleave his bow in twain. You kick him to the ground and lean down, punching once. That is enough to leave him unconscious. You don't like to kill them, even though you find them worthless. They're not caught up in your battle between the Foundation and Rebellion. They just need to know what not to do.

As you continue walking, they do not bother speaking to you. You have no name to call your own, so why waste time talking to you? You understand their reasoning, and you would rather not speak to them in the first place. They are disgusting. No name to call their own, and no home other than this.

The long and winding road is unoccupied along this stretch. From your time in this place, you have learned this means a traveler from beyond is here. Incursions from beyond, always led by the Foundation and its detestable peons, have been getting more common in these days. You know that they still seek to annihilate your rebellion from past the forest, though weapons from the outside don't work in this place. You've seen one of their task forces enter and try to open fire, only to be met with their weapons shifting into rabid animals of the forest. That doesn't mean nothing works in a fight, though.

You see a man walking along the road. He's ahead of you, far enough to not notice the clank of your armor-skin, but close enough that you can see the insignia of the Foundation on his coat. He seems inexperienced. Prone to slip and to have his name taken. If not by you, then by someone else. You follow him, getting ever closer until you slip next to him on the path and speak.

"Hello and Good Morning, stranger."

"H-hello. How are you o-on this day?"

"As fine as the sun. How is the sun? I sure hope it has not gone dark before I can see it once more."

"N-no, no. The sun is fine, and it shines nicely."

"You seem new to this place. Do you need protection or a companion in your travels?"

(You try to smile. The helmet that is your face contorts to make what is certainly an uncanny impression of one.)

"Oh, uhm, I'm not too sure I do."

(He rubs his hands together. He's scared.)

"Nonsense. Those who inhabit these lands will always try to take the name that is yours, by any means. I can fend them off."

"Then, I guess I shall accept your offer. T-thank you for your kindness, Man of Armor and Sword."

(He bows, and you return the gesture.)

You are quite enjoying your new companion already. You just need the perfect opportunity to trick him into breaking whatever protocol they have at the Foundation to stop them from giving up their names unknowingly. You continue your walk alongside the man, who keeps nervously checking a watch. The time is completely different each time he checks, which does not surprise you in the slightest. Modern technology seems to malfunction whenever someone tries to use it.

You hope that he will not mind much when you do end up taking his name. You have more need for it than he does, and besides, he'll probably end up being gutted by other agents of madness anyways. Best to show some faux mercy and let the others pick up the scraps. You've decided that it is much too quiet on this trip, and so you try to speak to your false friend once more and inform him of the time. The labyrinthine forest is getting dark, which often bodes the appearance of others that seek harm indiscriminately.

"It's late. If you don't sleep, then it's likely someone less kind than me will seek your name or your head."

"Oh, yes. I see. Thank you, Guide of the Forest."

(You both exchange another bow and set up a small camp to rest at. It is minimal, but there is a temporary fire and a sleeping bag for the Outsider.)

"What brings you into these woods?"

"I a-am here to explore. I was sent to chart the area."

"Was it the Foundation that sent you?"

"I-I'm afraid I can't answer that."

(Your traveling friend is sweating like a hog. He's trying to hide things from you.)

"I see. I understand, you know. They're wicked. They, one day, drove their Right Hand into this place. They drove what I used to be part of, a rebellion, into these eternally nameless woods."

"Y-yes. I see."

(He speaks slowly, as if contemplating the idea. You can tell that he doesn't believe it, at least not fully.)

"… and why did they do this?"

"We were expressing ideas that they didn't enjoy. We were the rebels against their system. They were tyrants, a century ago."

"I— I see. I don't know what to think. Excuse my s-saying, but we haven't been acquainted long enough yet to know if you're truthful."

"I understand. Sleep well, Strange Explorer."

You dream of it again.

This is the cause that he fought for.

He came to you one day. He talked about the strangest things to your sensibilities then.

You were told about the wicked ways of the Foundation. How the Engine was found.

How it was going to make the world great once more.

Who were you to argue? He had always been smarter than you.

You delved into it with him. You rebelled too.

The twisting halls of the Factory confuse and disorient your squad leader, who barked contradictory orders.

You and the other members of the Red Right Hand get separated.

All except for you and him.

You loved him.

He walked with you no matter where you went.

He always loved you. No matter what you did.

You can't even remember the name that was stolen from him.

All you can remember is the love of your life being taken from you.

The disgusting beings that reside with you in this accursed forest fought the constructs of the Factory.

They fought hand in hand with the Foundation.

It did not matter in the end. They were cast down from the world they would now see as Heaven.

They were cast into Hell with you and the other traitors to the cause.

Thrown into a nameless and forested punishment, your Lover sought to keep both of you alive.

He left to wander the woods and find materials for a fire.

You should have gone and perished with the only person you still dream about.

Revenge was decided long ago. Not for the cause. For your beloved.

For your tragedy.

As you awaken, you ensure the fire is put out and nothing would begin to assail your Foundation-Sent Ally. You need him to stay alive, and besides, you've endeared yourself to him long enough that you could use him. You lightly shake him, looking to wake him early. If you don't get on the road, the permanent visitors that are inhuman to this realm may try to get to him before you. This entire realm is a den of jackals, waiting to strike at the first scent of a name.

He mutters to himself as he wakes, waving slightly to you and taking a drink from a canteen out of his satchel. He makes his way off of the ground, stretching a little. The Foundation Explorer gives you a smile, speaking his first words of the day.

"Hello. I wasn't expecting you to still be here."

"That is how it will be."

"And I do appreciate it. May our travels be successful."

"I am sure that you will lead it to success."

His face turns from neutrality to a slight smile. You pat your fellow traveler on the back, pushing him slightly so he began moving along. The winding yet straight path through the realm does not move on its own, after all.

A scream comes deeper from the forest of naming taboo. It is a guttural scream, that of someone in extreme distress. You assume this is another explorer. Foundation personnel don't often come alone. You begin to pick up the pace, looking at your ally and smiling the biggest smile you can conjure.

"Is that one of your acquaintances?"

"Y-yes. I think. I think that could be one of the men who came in before me. We got separated by a band of marauders. I was t-told weapons didn't work in this place, though."

"Hah! They tell you that? No, no. The materials of this world can make weapons of this world. Unless you stumble upon a legendary weapon or whatnot, making your own is the best idea. That is, unless you wish to bite and claw your way out of a sword wound.."

"Well. Good I have you, right? Please tell me you can take care of anything that comes to hurt me."

You shrug and give something approximating a nod to him. He gains some sense of renewed vigor with this, marching on the paved dirt road toward the source of the screaming. You follow behind, eventually coming upon one of the Engine's old encampments. It seems that some of your kin have built it over the forest's road, presumably to try and take from those walking along it. You take two fingers to your mouth, moving the knightly visor that has become part of your form, and whistling a few notes. An old signal that you used to use to identify each other.

Your signal is met by companions. A businessman made of jewels and a snarling beast with razor teeth, each cloaked in the symbols of your organization of revolution with blades in hand. The gemmed man eyes your ticket out of this place and signs a message to you.

Enemy Combatant?

Prisoner. Stand down.

Bring him in.

They back away from him, nodding and allowing you to enter the abode. The Explorer enters behind you, staying close to try and avoid the gaze of your gracious hosts, who enter behind you and begin speaking. They seem tense. Like they're preparing.

"We found someone with a name. It's an explorer, much like yours. The Foundation has been sending more through lately.

You nod, trying to seem as if you're actually listening to what is being said. Instead, you're trying to ensure that they don't get too close to you or your alleged prisoner. They cannot be allowed to harm him. He's important to you. He needs to live so that you can make up for who has not. He gets closer to you as you walk further into the dilapidated base, seeking comfort from your presence, it seems. You pat him on the back, comforting yourself with this too.

"And here is our guest of honor. Maybe our guests can confer a little, friend."

The man of rich composition takes out a key, opening a door and revealing another employee of the Foundation standing in the nigh empty, dirt-covered room. He looks at you, then back to the prisoner, before returning to you and moving his arm as if to signal the prisoner. They look tired, as if they have not slept in days. Their eyes close for a moment, before a piercing shriek emerges from the vaguely opossum-like individual that wakes them. It seems to affect your friend as much as yourself, as you hold a hand up to where your right ear used to be. It was painful. They have no consideration for their guests.

Leave him here.

We need him more. We can take turns to try for their names. Easier together.

His posture changes. He goes from shriveling forward, to standing tall, and fully revealing his size. He's easily taller than you and the man of crystaline make. The presence overshadows you, as you can see the beastman bares his fangs.

No. I said no.

The crystal businessman unsheathes his sword slightly, and this does not go unnoticed by you. Though you share the same symbol, you do not share loyalty between you, it seems. They did try to give you a chance, but you cannot let him go, and violence seems to be inevitable from that. There's an old tale that used to be shared in the beginning years of being trapped. When a member of The Insurgency fights for their life, the Engine will roar in the head of the combatants. You swear that you can hear a slow pulsing beep, followed by a shriek of metal and roaring smoke of a machine coming to life. Fire blazes in your mind, and you pull your sword to lock blades of mystical metal, parrying the strike of your former ally quite effectively.

You push forward with your blade, sending your boot forward to hit the shin of your opponent. This proves fruitful, as he is quite easily toppled by the endeavor and ends up dropping his blade. Your friend of the Otherworld grabs the sword haphazardly, shifting it from side to side as he points the weapon to the marisupal menace who has drawn his own weapon at this moment. You ensure the mass of minerals is at least unconscious by kicking his side as hard as you can. You are met with a small "oomph" from him, before spinning back to the other warrior and find he has already locked blades with another.

The true human struggles against the push of war, the thumping beat of battle that threatens to take his head. He attempts to pull back his sword in what seems to be an attempt at a side strike. This is met with the extremely fanged attacker sinking his teeth into the Voyager of the Woods' shoulder. You can see his pain, hear his scream as he desperately claws at his enemy's neck, trying to get him to let go.

You stagger forward, bringing your blade above your head and bringing it down over the head of the neck of the beast biting your ally. Your blade again hits another, as he raises his smaller sword and pushes with all his force to hold off your strike. As you struggle against his blade, seeking to push forward and strike again, you notice your opponent grunt in pain, before lurching forward and spitting up something red.

Blood. He has impaled the monster of the base with the taken sword.

"Is— Is it over?"

"Yes. It's over."

"Okay. I have to talk to them."

Your friend consoles goes to the person in the corner, whispering things to them and patting them on the back. They stand, and slowly stumble out of the base before your eyes. You're seeing things. You could swear that the one you travel with looks like the one you lost forever. You shake your head, the delusion along with it. As he moves on, you look behind you once more to the disheveled corpses of your former allies. They sit, decades of memory and life leaving their bodies as they die on the ground. You can't put a name on them, eternally.

He did well to kill them. You didn't expect that level of willpower from him. You'll have to get him to fight more if this is the level he can get to with adrenaline. That's how you connect with him. Fighting. Then you can get close to him, and take his name.

You part ways with the other Foundation employee, who decides to sleep in the bunker. Get some rest after being taken by those two beasts, or as close as you can get in the prison of trees. You travel a bit further, not more than a few miles down the road, and agree to rest. You sit at the edge of the fire that you have lit.

You stare into the fire, before a voice cuts through the uncanny silence that is typical to the nights of this place.

"I thought I was going to die."

You chuckle a little, looking at him as he wipes some remaining sweat from the battle off his brow.

"You did well. You fought valiantly. Much more valiant than I thought you would ever be."

He chuckles a bit, rubbing his arm a bit.

"Well, I guess. It was adrenaline, mostly."

"Oh, come now. Don't try that humbug with me. You have potential to be a good fighter.

"Well, if you say so. You're kind of the master at that, aren't you?"

You let out a small laugh.

"Oh come now. Say, what do you do for the Foundation?"

"Oh, I'm a junior researcher. I got assigned to this recently, told to study what I can inside. Standard trip, apparently."

"Isn't that something? You're doing well, it seems. Especially with my aid."

"Yeah. Without you, I think I'd be dead. Or locked in a room with those freaks back there. Thank God."

He rubs his eyes, mumbling something that you can't make out.

"I think I ought to turn in. We have to keep moving tomorrow."

"Good idea. Rest well."

A dream overtakes your mind again.

It's about him again.

You want to escape. But he has to be remembered.

If you don't cry every night over his loss, then who will?

Who will?

Who will get you out of this nightmare.

You miss him.

You miss being able to sleep without nightmares.

He's here. In the distance.

You can see him.

You miss him. You miss him. You—

You snap awake and see your companion still up as well. You scoot closer to him, seeking some refuge from the dreams that take your mind every night. They're getting worse. Mocking you more. You look at his face, beautiful as the stars that you've almost forgotten, and you cry. The memory of him keeps you from speaking. He comes closer to you, unsure of what to do other than offer the solace of his hand upon your back.

"It's okay. I-it's okay. W-what's wrong?"

You cannot speak. Your words turn to choking up of your throat, and you simply hug him. The tears drip down from your helmet, hitting his pure white lab coat. He keeps his hand on your back for a moment, hesitating for a moment until he decides to hug you back. It takes you a moment, until you swallow your tears and are able to speak once more. You know why you're doing this. You're trying to get close to him. You're using him.

"I— I can't escape. I lost someone I loved, and my dreams of him torment me."

Some truth. To lure him in.

"Oh. I'm s-sorry. I-it's okay. I-i'm here, i-if I can help?"

"I think I see him in you. That's why they're getting worse. The dreams, I mean. You remind me of him so much."

He pauses, looking at you. He squeezes you as much as he can, leaning into you. You tell yourself that this is all for him. You're here fraternizing with someone who works for the murderous organization that ended him. All for him and getting revenge.

Despite your insistence in your mind, guilt piles in your mind.

Traitor.

Your trek is boring, and almost anxiety-inducing. You can feel him watching you. Judging you for having chosen him. Why him? He's of the enemy. Why do you even try to speak to him? You nod to yourself, looking again to him and trying to quell your fears. He doesn't have the hate of the Foundation that you do.

That is when you hear glass shattering. You look forward, your pace getting quicker, as you come to see a town of the unhumans trapped alongside you. A fire blazes between the homes, growing larger with each second as you see others of the Engine's plan wander the village. You see two vaguely rabbit-like people running toward the path. Two men, hand in hand, as they dash away from the burning ruins of their home. Love.

You notice a member of your Insurgence, coated in green flame and signified as a member by the logo on their arm, following them with a sword in hand. You blink, and you see blood on the ground.

Your ally gets cold, retching and throwing up on the ground as he looks back to you, then back to the soldiers who have murdered.

As you look at the men, your mind floods.

Why?

What did these people do to deserve that fate? They're innocent.

You are sure this is what The Engine's Puppet wished you to do.

Aid them in this fight.

No.

This massacre.

You grip your head, now flooding with hate.

Hate for the Foundation for taking him.

Hate for the terrorists before you for taking innocent lives.

And so you start to run. You look back, though, and realize you have left behind the scientist.

You grab him.

Run. Run. Run. Don't let him get hurt.

And yet, now you feel more anxiety rushing through you. Was he wrong? No. No. That can't be right. You dedicated so much to making sure the memory stayed alive. This cannot be true. You must be delusional. You hope you are delusional. You don't want to be right.

"T-they're coming a-after u-us—"

"I know. I know. I'll figure something out, okay? Don't worry. Just try to keep running."

You run with him, you run for what feels like hours.

But your enemy combatant made of green flame comes closer. You raise your sword, ready to strike, and realize that he has already began melting your blade. As it comes out of the sheath, you notice it is completely unusable. You have a handle, and that is it. Your ally charges. He rams into the non-flaming parts of the enemy, and knocks him to the ground. You approach, stomping the flame out where his head should be.

The body twitches, and you look on your friend once more. He is wreathed in burns, ones that will remain visible for a while.

"Are you okay? It looks like you're—"

"I'll be fine. I just need to sit somewhere. Let's get to a place where we can set up camp. Please. It hurts still."

You hold him by the shoulder, finding a suitable place to set up camp and light a fire. You deign to keep him safe. You take a few plants that you know can somewhat treat pain and start rubbing them against his skin. It doesn't help much at this point, but if you keep going it might.

You try to keep him comfortable.

You sit beside the fire, your thoughts consuming you. This can't be right. He was always right. He was the smarter one. He was intelligent. He can't be wrong about something so fundamental, about the morality of something. He was a good person. He loved you.

"Friend. Are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember who I was discussing yesterday?"

"Your— uh— former lover?"

"Yes. I'm trying to wrap my head around something."

"You can share with me."

"He got me into fighting the Foundation. He was the smartest man I knew. Could he be wrong?"

"Everyone is wrong sometimes, you know. People fall into holes that they can't get out of mentally sometimes. I think you just followed him in."

You pause, and stare at him. You didn't even think twice about what he proposed, did you? No. You didn't. You put your head in your hands and think.

Your mind is running full of anxiety. Paranoia. You've wasted so much. You've wasted your years.

He noticed your shaking on the ground, and he pats you on the back. He tries to comfort you. His touch drives away your fear, but your guilt comes forth then.

He holds you as you both drift to sleep.

There are no bad dreams.

You two have journeyed together to the end.

But now, that end has been reached.

The well that leads home is visible, and you grip him tightly. You don't want him to leave you. But he must.

He promises to come back for you. Find you a way home, or failing that, find you.

As he ascends the escape, you watch him. You make sure that nothing tries to drag him back down into this hell.

You are a traitor to your cause, but one that will survive. You will survive to leave with him.

Your name is Jasper Seabrook. Upon exiting the realm of forest, you are accosted by Foundation doctors trying to ensure that you are unharmed. They find nothing wrong. You are fine physically.

You miss him.

But you finally have love.

And so does he.