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███████ Immediate recovery is critical.

SCP-8080 — Eleanor Ellory Goes To Therapy

◇ An entry for the SCP-8080 "Fantasy" Contest, by Uncannyon ◇

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SCP-8080

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Attempt: Friendship

Foundation Area-22 researchers Dr. ELEANOR ELLORY and Dr. DEAN WALKER lie side by side on large square of cloth. Their fingers are close, but not quite touching. A tripod telescope stands a little way to their left with a red thermos of coffee beside it.

They gaze upwards at a vast ocean of brilliant stars that gleam like polished gem stones. Around them a field of soft green meadow grass seems to go on and on forever.

The air is crisp and calm. It's past midnight but the season is warm and neither researcher is shivering under their coats.

Ellory: Damn. That's pretty.

Walker: They're not half bad, are they?

Ellory: Yeah, I've got to hand it to you. You really pushed the boat out this time.

WALKER laughs.

Walker: Man, I wish I could take the credit for those.

Ellory: Oh go on, take just a little bit. You did bring us out here.

Walker: The trick is zero light pollution. Get away from the cities and the buildings and its like this every night.

Ellory: I guess I should get away more often then.

Walker: That's fine by me. You're always welcome here, Eleanor.

She smiles. For a while, they lie together in silence.

Ellory: Thank you, by the way. For inviting me, I mean. I can't remember if I'd said it yet.

Walker: You've thanked me literally a thousand times!

Ellory: Pff, You're exaggerating.

Walker: Only by a little bit. You thank people a lot Eleanor. Last time I bought you a yoghurt you practically thanked me after every other bite. And you kept assuring me how delicious it was. I mean, I would have understood if I'd made it at home or something but it was from the Area canteen.

Ellory: Hey now, look here mister. I didn't come out here to be accurately accused of things, OK?

WALKER grins.

Walker: Oh yeah? Why did you come out here Eleanor?

Ellory: Because you invited me over and over again and gradually wore me down until I agreed. Like a good friend.

Walker: A best friend.

Ellory: My awesomest friend.

There is silence for a moment.

Ellory: My only friend.

Walker: Hey, don't say that.

Ellory: It's true, though. Isn't it?

Walker: Well, if it is, and that's a big if mind you, then that just means that there's more of you for me, doesn't it?

Ellory: Oh shush. If you say weird stuff like that I'm going to start thinking you're getting ideas about me.

WALKER wiggles his eyebrows.

Walker: Maybe I am.

ELLORY laughs.

Ellory: Don't goof. We wouldn't work.

Walker: Why not?

Ellory: Well, people would stare.

Walker: What's there to stare about?

Ellory: Well there's the height difference for a start. And the…

ELLORY places a hand self-consciously on her stomach.

Ellory: … and stuff. Prettyboys don't end up with… you know.

Walker: No I do not know.

ELLORY rolls her shoulder blades uncomfortably.

Ellory: Look, let's not talk about it right now, please.

Walker: Of course. No problem. Whatever you want.

Again, there is silence.

Walker: We could do this next weekend too, if you felt like it. If tonight goes alright, I mean.

Ellory: I'm certainly enjoying it so far.

WALKER moves his hand ever so slightly, brushing the tips of his fingers against ELLORY's just for a moment.

Walker: It's nice to be able to talk to you outside the office. It feels more like the real you.

Ellory: Yeah. It feels… I don't know, easier to be myself out here. Away from work.

Walker: You know I never feel like I'm actually away from work unless I'm in the middle of a field without a building in sight. It's not really the type of job you can put on and take off with your lab coat.

Ellory: No. It's not.

She pauses.

Ellory: I know just what you mean. There's a kind of… horrible clinicalness that gets everywhere. Right down into your brain. You're never properly off the clock. You're never really on break. Not while you're there.

Walker: I swear the flickering ceiling light in the canteen is secretly a cognitohazard to keep us docile in the workplace.

ELLORY laughs.

Ellory: I wouldn't put it past them.

Walker: Oh I'm only half joking. I mean, can you be an effective shadowy global superpower and not be able to fix a goddamn light bulb?

Ellory: Right? Where's the government-toppling budget when you need it?

There's a long pause.

Ellory: The Foundation is… weird.

Walker: Boy is that the understatement of the century.

Ellory: No, I mean weird in the sense of like… oh, look, don't worry about it. We're meant to be getting away from work stuff. I'd just bore you.

Walker: No go on. You could never bore me, Eleanor.

Ellory: Well, you see these people on breaks and at lunch. Ordinary, normal people - well, normal-ish - and then they go away, and half of them do these terrible, awful things. They make notes and sign pieces of paper and order tests and then other people are made to suffer, or die, or live in a glass box forever. And you're always just one assignment away from being one of them.

Walker: Yeah, I think I see what you mean. It's not always an easy job, I suppose. I guess I'm kind of glad I'm not at the decision making level. I wouldn't know what to do.

ELLORY pulls herself up into a sitting position and begins to play with a few strands of grass, twisting them around her fingers. Eventually she turns to look down at WALKER.

Ellory: Dean, do you like what you do?

Walker: I like what I'm doing right now.

Ellory: Behave. I mean… you know what I mean.

Walker: Working for the Foundation? I can't say I get up every day jumping for joy and bounding out the front door. It's a job. A very strange job sometimes, but still a job.

Ellory: Why did you join?

Walker: Well, it seemed like a pretty good deal at the time. I had skills they wanted, they had money I wanted and the option of not bleaching my brain and throwing me… out on the street. Plus I figured it would be a little more interesting than the type of stuff I'd be doing on the outside. But hey, not the first time I've been wrong. And what about you? What made you give up on the mortal world and join the mighty and glorious Foundation? The glitz? The glamour? Those delicious canteen yoghurts?

ELLORY laughs.

Ellory: You'll laugh at me if I tell you.

Walker: I wouldn't dream of it. Cross my heart and hope to die.

Ellory: I wanted to make the world a better place. Is that a dumb answer?

Walker: It's a very you answer.

Ellory: I know it might sound like a contradiction in terms, given where we work, but I when I was offered the job I thought… well, here it is. What I've been waiting for. Somewhere where I can actually, personally, make a difference. This is going to come across as really egotistical, but I've always felt like there was something I was meant to do. I had a pretty crappy childhood. My father didn't stay around long, and given what my mother was like I'm not sure I can completely blame him. I was always… on the outside. The silly, ugly, fat girl. The swot. The one who actually tried on tests. No one likes those kinds of girls. The only people who hang out with you are the girls who want to make themselves look prettier. And it always felt like… like there had to be a reason for enduring all that. A purpose. A way to do something good and important.

Walker: And did you find something? A purpose, I mean? A way of making a difference?

Ellory: I think so. Recently, I think… yeah. I think I have. And good thing too, because I certainly didn't end up making any more friends at work than I did at school.

Walker: Eleanor, you're way, way too hard on yourself.

Ellory: It's true though! I've been working at Area-22 over a decade - thirteen freaking years - and I don't think I've had one single person round to my place, or ever gone to someone else's.

Walker: Hey, I'm sure that's true for a lot of people. It's really not good to beat yourself up so much you know. You just end up making yourself more and more upset. Why not focus on the positive stuff? You said you've been doing something recently that's made you feel more fulfilled. What was that?

Ellory: No, but like… OK, can I tell you something personal?

Walker: Always.

Ellory: Are you sure?

Walker: Really, Eleanor, you can tell me absolutely anything.

Ellory: It makes me feel so stupid and weak that it upsets me so much. But you know Sarah? Dr. Holbrook? So her birthday is two days before mine. And every single year she gets flooded with cards, individual, personal cards, and flowers, and then right afterwards it's my birthday. And the only card I ever get is the big group one from the department that half the people forget to sign. Every single year. I can't even bring myself to put it on my desk because hers is covered in cards and it just makes it so much more… so much more obvious that…

ELLORY sniffs loudly and pulls a tissue out of her pocket to blow her nose.

Walker: Hey, it's OK. It's OK.

WALKER takes her hand and squeezes it.

Walker: It doesn't mean anything. You're an incredible person, Eleanor. You're smart, and you're funny, and you do amazing things. And you are sitting here with me under the stars, not Sarah Holbrook.

ELLORY manages a small laugh and wipes her eyes.

Ellory: Yeah. That's true. It's a nice place to be.

She leans against him.

Ellory: Thank you. Sorry. Thank you.

Walker: Hey, don't mention it.

Ellory: I don't know what on earth I'd do without you.

Walker: Well you never have to worry about that Eleanor.

Ellory: How the heck did I end up with a friend like you, huh?

Walker: Just terrible luck I guess.

She laughs, and squeezes WALKER's arm. They sit in silence again for a while.

Ellory: Hey Dean… how did we become friends, actually?

Walker: Oh, god, I don't know. We've been friends forever.

ELLORY straightens up.

Ellory: You don't know?

Walker: I- Huh? Eleanor, what's wrong?

Ellory: Like, you literally don't know? Because I don't know either. We've been friends for as long as I can remember, but- Christ, Dean, when did we even meet?

Walker: Um… does it matter?

Ellory: Of course it matters! Does it not worry you that we've just had a whole conversation about me not having friends at work except we're friends except neither of us can remember how we actually met? I don't… You've never been to my place, have you? We hang out literally all the time but I've never had anyone from work visit my apartment.

Walker: Eleanor-

Ellory: Dean… why have you never given me a birthday card? We've been best friends forever but I know that no one ever, ever gives me a birthday card.

Walker: Yeah, I guess that was a bit of an oversight.

Ellory: What?

Walker: Control, can you pause the sequence?

Ellory: WHAT!?

Item#: 8080

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Special Containment Procedures

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Description

SCP-8080

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Therapy Session Record - E. Ellory

Extract 1

Foundation Therapist: Dr. Olivia Carrigan (via remote link)

Patient Name: Eleanor Ellory

SECURITY CLEARANCE: LEVEL 5

Patient has expressed concerns regarding recent unusual dreams which may be related to workplace stress and exhaustion. Patient suffers from recurring  depressive episodes and severe negative self-esteem.

DR. CARRIGAN: Good afternoon. Is everything coming through clearly?

E. ELLORY: Hi. Uh, yes. Good afternoon. I mean, yes, everything's clear.

DR. CARRIGAN: Good. Well, my name is Doctor Olivia Carrigan. You can call me Doctor, or Doctor Carrigan. And how would you like me to address you?

E. ELLORY: Just Eleanor. Eleanor is fine.

DR. CARRIGAN: Thank you Eleanor. And would you prefer to have this session with or without webcams on?

E. ELLORY: Without. Um, I mean, would it be OK to have it without, please?

DR. CARRIGAN: Of course. Whatever you're most comfortable with. Do you have something warm to drink?

E. ELLORY: Um, no. Should I have?

DR. CARRIGAN: Only if you'd like to. For longer sessions some people find it helpful to have something to lubricate their throats.

E. ELLORY: Right. That's smart. Sorry. I should have thought. Sorry.

DR. CARRIGAN: You don't have to be sorry Eleanor. Would you like to go and make some tea or coffee?

E. ELLORY: No I'm- It's fine. I don't want to waste your time. I've got some throat sweets somewhere anyway.

DR. CARRIGAN: As you like.

E. ELLORY: So, uh… where do we start?

DR. CARRIGAN: Where would you like to start?

E. ELLORY: Um… I'm not sure. Sorry.

DR. CARRIGAN: I understand that you wanted to discuss some dreams that you've been having?

E. ELLORY: Yes. Um. Sorry. That's a really stupid thing to bring to a therapist, isn't it?

DR. CARRIGAN: Not at all. There are no stupid things to talk about in therapy if you feel that they're affecting your mental wellbeing. And a great many people have dreams which they find confusing or concerning that they would like professional support to unpack.

E. ELLORY: Right. Thank you. Have you spoken to many people about their dreams?

DR. CARRIGAN: I'm afraid I cannot discuss my interactions with other patients.

E. ELLORY: Right. Right. Of course. Sorry. Stupid of me to ask.

DR. CARRIGAN: Why don't you start by telling me about one of the dreams that you've experienced recently?

E. ELLORY: Well, I can't remember all of it.

DR. CARRIGAN: That's perfectly normal. Just tell me whatever you can.

E. ELLORY: Well… there was one where I was stargazing. I was in this big, big field under the night sky. Only there were way too many stars for it to be real, but you don't really notice things like that in a dream, do you?

DR. CARRIGAN: We often can encounter strange and nonsensical things in our dreams that we only become aware of after we wake.

E. ELLORY: And I was with a man. He worked here. At the Foundation I mean, in my department. I mean he doesn't work here really. But I dreamed that he did. I dreamed that we worked together, and he'd invited me out to… a field somewhere, I can't remember where, to look at the sky. And we talked and talked and it was lovely. We talked about work, and the Foundation, and all the stuff we didn't like about it, and why we were here. He was very handsome. And he… well I think he, uh, flirted with me, a few times.

DR. CARRIGAN: That sounds like a very normal subject for a dream.

E. ELLORY: Right. But then it all went really wrong, somehow. I'd… I think I'd noticed that my dream didn't make sense? That the guy I'd dreamed up couldn't be real because my memories of him contradicted themselves. And it was a horrible feeling. Like the floor of my stomach had dropped out.

DR. CARRIGAN: You became aware that it was a dream?

E. ELLORY: No, not even that. It was just this one guy who… and he said something that made me so, so frightened but I can't remember what it was.

DR. CARRIGAN: Is there a colleague in your department who you think this figure might perhaps have represented?

E. ELLORY: No. I mean I don't think so. I'm not really friends with anyone in my department. Anyone here at all, really.

DR. CARRIGAN: I see. Do you think it's possible that part of your dream may have been a reflection of your concern over that lack of close workplace relationships, and perhaps a fear that if you were to make more connections with your colleagues that they might prove to be somehow false or unworthy?

E. ELLORY: Yeah, I… Yeah. That would make sense.

DR. CARRIGAN: I see from your previous therapist's notes that in past sessions you've discussed having issues with self-esteem. Is that something that you're still finding difficulty with?

E. ELLORY: Yeah. That's… that's definitely something I have a lot of problems with.

DR. CARRIGAN: Well, this dream could certainly have been influenced by some of those emotions.

E. ELLORY: Yeah.

DR. CARRIGAN: But equally it could have other interpretations. There seemed to be a focus on your job, for example. Have you faced any additional stresses or challenges at work recently?

E. ELLORY: There have been… a few things that have come up, yes.

Attempt: Fantasy

Sunblood champion ELEANOR ELLORY begins to climb the grand crystalline steps of Glyzan Tower. She is just seventeen years old, the youngest sunblood in the last century. And already one of the most accomplished.

Below her the entrance hall full of apprentices point and whisper conspiratorially, but she pays them no heed. This is her moment of triumph, and not even the jeers of the dark-robed Rye Blacksong can deflate her spirits.

She climbs first past the amethyst staircase, then the emerald and the ruby. She shivers as she passes over the onyx stairway, feeling the seductive throb of its dark power, before finally reaching the top of the topaz steps. Grand Magus DEAN WALKER is waiting for her, beaming with pride. His looks resplendent in his ceremonial golden crown. His ornate robes of purple and turquoise seem to shimmer with ethereal beauty in the light of the hundreds of candles that line the walls.

Walker: Well, well, well, my dear dear Eleanor Ellory. There were times - dark times, treacherous times - when even I did not believe you would live to stand here before me today. Your father would be so proud of what you have accomplished.

ELLORY bows low before him, pulling a golden sword from her side and laying it upon the floor in front of her.

Ellory: It my honour to offer my fealty to you, Grand Magus Walker. And my eternal loyalty.

Walker: And great is that loyalty, young sunblood. The trials you have undergone, both as an apprentice of our order and beyond it… not even our greatest lightweavers have braved half as much in twice the time. The world owes you a great deal, Eleanor.

ELLORY gives a shy smile as she picks up her blade and returns it to her silver scabbard.

Ellory: And I could not have done so much of a quarter of it without my friends, Grand Magus. Or, for that matter, without you.

Walker: Quite, quite. Bold are we together, and broken are we apart. You have been most fortunate in your allies, and most deserving of their companionship. But your trials today are for you and for you alone. Are you prepared to meet them, Eleanor?

Ellory: I am. But you're wrong, Grand Magus. My friends are always with me, even when they're not standing by my side. Even those who have passed to the sunless lands. Everything I am is because of their strength and sacrifices. I am never alone, Grand Magic.

WALKER gives a creaking, wizardly laugh and claps his hands.

Walker: Indeed yes! You know Eleanor, it takes a very brave girl to call an old wizard "wrong" to his whiskers. I hope to see a good few more of those anointed here before my time is done.

Just for a moment a small frown creases ELLORY's brow.

Ellory: You don't have any whiskers.

WALKER ignores her.

Walker: But the future has waited long and can stand to wait a little longer. Today is your day, Eleanor. And I know that you shall make us proud. Summon your courage, young champion. Your graduation anointment trial is about to begin.

WALKER leads ELLORY to the centre of a large circle cut into the dark stone floor. Beautifully twisting lines curve across its surface in a complex spiralling pattern. Above them, the clear crystal windows let in the dazzling morning sun.

Walker: First, the Trial of Wits. Three devious questions to probe your knowledge, wisdom and cunning. Are you ready to answer?

Ellory: I am, Grand Magus.

Walker: Good. Good. Then tell me, child… what is it that gets wetter as it dries?

Ellory: Huh? I… I mean, that's… a towel?

WALKER throws his hands up in astonishment.

Walker: Of course! Brilliant, my girl, quite brilliant! And now, ahem, hold on. Uh… A box without hinges, key, or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid. What is it?

Ellory: That's… that's not from Sunblood.

Walker: But you do know the answer, don't you?

Ellory: … It's an egg.

Walker: Wonderful! Fantabulous! A prodigy! My word how does she do it? And now, Eleanor, for your final and most important riddle, tell me this: Where exactly is SCP-8080?

Ellory: I… what?

Walker: You know the answer, Eleanor. Where is SCP-8080? It's your final test. Go on. Say it, and you shall be a full member of our glorious order!

Ellory: But… wait, what about the other graduation challenges? The trials of Courage and Strength?

Walker: Forget about the other trials, Eleanor. This is all that matters. SCP-8080 is missing and only you are brave and smart and special enough to work out where it's gone.

ELLORY backs away slowly, shaking her head.

Ellory: This is wrong.

Walker: Eleanor-

Ellory: This is all wrong! God… None of this is real, is it?

WALKER rolls his eyes and sighs in annoyance.

Walker: Oh sod it. Honestly I think I was already onto a loser by the first riddle. Control, do they even have towels here? When did they invent the towel?

Control: Huh… you know I actually have no idea. But it's fantasy rather than historical so I don't think it would matter that much.

Ellory: Just what the hell is going on and WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?

Walker: Control, halt the sequence. I never liked this one anyway. Although apparently I can do a damn good wizard.

Therapy Session Record - E. Ellory

Extract 2

Foundation Therapist: Dr. Olivia Carrigan (via remote link)

Patient Name: Eleanor Ellory

SECURITY CLEARANCE: LEVEL 5

Patient has expressed concerns regarding recent unusual dreams which may be related to workplace stress and exhaustion. Patient suffers from recurring  depressive episodes and severe negative self-esteem.

DR. CARRIGAN: Tell me about the next dream you remember.

E. ELLORY: That one was… a lot weirder honestly.

DR. CARRIGAN: Dreams can often be very strange. People have talked about them and written about them and studied them for almost as long humans have existed, and we still only have the barest understanding of why they exist and what, if anything, they're for.

E. ELLORY: Maybe one day we'll find out that they've secretly been some kind of anomaly the whole time.

DR. CARRIGAN: Maybe we will. But for now, tell me about what happened in your dream.

[ Eleanor fiddles with her sleeve. ]

E. ELLORY: It's… honestly it's a bit embarrassing.

DR. CARRIGAN: Everything we discuss here is perfectly confidential. You're welcome to share as much or as little as you're comfortable with.

E. ELLORY: Well, um, have you ever read the Sunblood series by Lilly Wu?

DR. CARRIGAN: I have not.

E. ELLORY: Well it's a YA series that, well it's not like my favourite or anything. But when I was trying to get back into learning to draw, I used to try and doodle things from those books a lot. Characters and objects and stuff. I mean there's a lot of hokey writing in them but, you know, they always felt kind of comforting. So I guess they must have been on my mind a lot.

DR. CARRIGAN: It's perfectly alright to enjoy things, Eleanor. Go on.

E. ELLORY: Well the dream was just… kind of that. Like it was part of the plot of the seventh book, sort of. Except I was the main character.

DR. CARRIGAN: That's a very common fantasy. A lot of people dream about being a character from a piece of media they've felt a particularly strong connection to.

E. ELLORY: I don't! I mean I have literally never had a dream like that before in my life. It was so weird. I mean, when I read books I don't even really associate myself with the main characters. I like hearing about other people's stories, not, you know, projecting myself into them.

DR. CARRIGAN: Well, perhaps somewhere in your subconscious there's a part of you that feels like it wants to be the hero of its own story.

E. ELLORY: I guess. Perhaps. But honestly that doesn't really feel very… me.

DR. CARRIGAN: You might surprise yourself. But maybe that means you were drawn to that setting for a different reason then. You said that it was a book series that you've been able to find comfort in when you were drawing. Sometimes we can dream ourselves into places that we associate with safety or happiness either as a form of protection from something unpleasant or as a kind of reward for ourselves if we feel that we've done something good.

E. ELLORY: I've never had something like that before either. Do you get those kinds of dreams?

DR. CARRIGAN: Occasionally.

E. ELLORY: What are yours about? If you don't mind me asking, sorry.

DR. CARRIGAN: Not at all. I dream about lying out on a great big yacht in the middle of the ocean with nothing around for miles. Gently bobbing up and down in the waves. It makes me feel calm and peaceful.

E. ELLORY: Well, this dream didn't feel very calm or peaceful. It felt…

DR. CARRIGAN: Yes?

[ Eleanor frowns. ]

E. ELLORY: It wasn't right! It was all messed up. Like, the Grand Magus was wrong. He kept getting the words wrong and he was much too young. And there were riddles but one of them was from The Hobbit. And… they talked about towels for some reason? What kind of sense does that make?

DR. CARRIGAN: Dreams aren't a place where sense is in control, Eleanor. Dreams often jumble things up, taking ideas and thoughts from disparate parts of your life and blending them together. Sometimes perhaps your subconscious sees more connections than your consciousness does. And sometimes perhaps it's just randomised noise.

E. ELLORY: And then… it was the oddest thing. The Grand Magus asked about SCP-8080.

Attempt: Fear

Commander ELEANOR ELLORY, the leader of MTF Alpha-99 "Dying Light", is checking her weapon and counting how many bullets she has left. Her hands are shaking as she fills the chamber.

Around her stand the remnants of her team, their guns raised in a protective ring, awaiting her orders. Their call signs are Smokey, Clicker, Boomboy, and DEAN WALKER.

The room they're standing in is dark and decrepit, illuminated only by the dusty, flickering, light of filthy, antique bulbs. The walls and floor are composed of gnarled planks of wood that do nothing to keep out the icy chill of the night air. There are no windows. There haven't been windows in any of the rooms they've passed through since entering the house, despite the appearance of windows on the outside of the building. A set of worn wooden doors stand at each end of the room, their red paint faded and peeling. The carpet beneath their feet is red too, but this is a fresh red. A sticky red.

In the corner of the room is a dressmaker's mannequin facing the wall.

From below, there's a noise like the starting of a chainsaw and then an ear splitting, howling scream cuts through the air. Smokey lowers his weapon and makes the sign of the cross on his body, muttering something inaudible.

Ellory: Do we have any remaining Scrantons?

Clicker: None.

Ellory: Shit.

Walker: Caveman was carrying the backup pack.

Boomboy: Goddamn it.

Walker: Not that they were doing much good anyway. I don't think they were even slowing them down. They just liked toying with us.

There's a slow, tentative knock from behind the door that they've just come through.

Unseen Voice: Mommy, why don't you want to pway wiv meeee?

The group shudder. ELLORY looks like she's in danger of throwing up.

Unseen Voice: Mommyyyyy, did I do someting w'ong? Did it make you mad when I ate your fwend? I'm sowwwyy, he was sho tasty lookin'. Pwease don't be mad at me mommyyyyy.

Clicker: What the hell do we do now?

Walker: Well, we can either fight out way back out and try to find an exit, or fight our way further in and try to neutralise whatever's causing all this. It's the boss's call. What do you want to do Eleanor?

A look of absolute terror claws its way across ELLORY's face and for a moment she's unable to respond.

Boomboy: We need orders, boss. We're counting on you.

ELLORY swallows and closes her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to turn away from the door with the voice behind it and towards the one at the opposite end of the room.

Ellory: We… go on. The way back isn't going to be any more safe, and we're close to the heart of this thing. I know it. I can feel it, somehow. Like a pressure in my skull.

Boomboy kicks the door open and scans the corridor revealed beyond. It appears to be empty.

Boomboy: All clear boss.

Smokey: Uh, hey boss? You'd better take a look at this.

The members of MTF Alpha-99 turn their heads. Smokey is now in the middle of the room, his feet hanging an inch above the floor. The left arm of the dressmaker's mannequin is lodged through the middle of his chest. Blood is soaking through his uniform and dropping down onto the already damp carpet. Smokey's eyes are vacant and lifeless, but his lips continue to move.

Smokey: Hey boss, you better take a look at this. Hey boss-

Ellory: Shit!

The task force members respond with a volley of shots into the mannequin. It shakes and trembles from the impact, but otherwise the bullets appear to have no effect. With a whirring, clicking noise the mannequin drags the index finger of its right hand across Smokey's bloody front and draws a large, childish smile onto its blank face.

Smokey: Hey boss, you better take a look at this. Look how pretty it is. Look how beautiful it is, mommy.

Ellory: Cease fire! Through the door! Go go go!

Alpha-99 rush through the doorway while the mannequin begins to draw an eye onto itself. Smokey's body has started to laugh.

The group enter a long wooden passageway with another door at the other end.

Ellory: Keep ahead of it! Move fast but eyes open.

The walls of the corridor are decorated with gruesome arcane sigils that have been drawn alternately in blood and faecal matter. Halfway along a pair of human hands have been nailed to the wall surrounded by a chalk circle. "The Maker Is Unworthy" is written above them. The sound of a man loudly sobbing can be heard as they pass.

They pour into the next room and look around, weapons ready. It looks like a grim parody of a nursery. A dozen old wooden children's cots have been placed on the floor with a bleeding dismembered body part resting in each. ELLORY squirms with revulsion as she catches sight of Caveman's severed head lying in one of them.

All around the room are shelves of dolls with white porcelain faces. Ugly brown-red stains bleed from their eye sockets.

As the group enters the room the dolls' heads swivel to face them. They giggle eerily.

Doll 1: Mommies and daddies!

Doll 2: They came to pway with us!

Doll 3: They made us wait sho long!

Boomboy raises his gun and puts a bullet through the third doll's head. It falls from its shelf with a horrible high-pitched scream and writhes on the floor.

Doll 3: I don't like this game, daddy!

The first doll throws itself from a shelf. As it lands on the ground six rusty spider-like hydraulic limbs burst out of its torso. The metal legs are non-uniform, and give the impression of having been cobbled together from scrap. The doll scuttles towards Boomboy with a disturbing grinding noise.

Doll 1: Look daddy! Imma puppy! Careful daddy, or I'm gonna eat up all your toes!

The lower half of its mask breaks in two, revealing a mechanical mouth filled with jagged rusty nails. Boomboy tries to shoot at it but his gun clicks empty. Two more dolls drop from their shelves and begin to crawl after it, sprouting extra limbs of their own.

Doll 5: Oh Daddy, you have pwetty eyes! Can I keep them? Can I can I can I?

Doll 6: I want your teef Daddy! Pwease say I can have them daddy I'll love you for ever and ever and ever!

All of the dolls have begun to move, metallic spider legs tearing out of their sides. En mass, they leap from the shelves onto Boomboy, their weight knocking him to the floor. He screams.

ELLORY tries to raise her gun but Walker pushes it down again.

Walker: You don't have enough ammo to make a dent! We have to keep going! Get to the next room!

ELLORY hesitates for a moment, biting her lip, and then follows WALKER to the far door with Clicker at her side. All three remaining task force members charge through and Walker slams the door behind them.

Ellory: How could we just-

Walker: No time. Look.

A ritual circle has been inscribed on the floor of the room in blood. The decaying corpse of a man is lying within it, his limbs extended. Both of his hands have been removed. A dull, pulsing red light emanates from his open mouth along with a continuous gurgling groan. The ruddy glow illuminates the words that have been scrawled on the wall behind him in giant letters. SCP-8080 IS THE KEY TO EVERYTHING.

Ellory: SCP-8080…

Walker: Eleanor, do you know anything about SCP-8080? It must be the solution to how we stop those things.

Ellory: No… I mean, yes, I do, but… but this isn't right. SCP-8080 has nothing to do with any of this.

Walker: Well it must do! It says so right over there.

Ellory: That's not possible.

Walker: The writing's quite literally on the bloody wall, Eleanor! It's not exactly a subtle clue.

ELLORY is almost in tears.

Ellory: But I don't… I don't understand how SCP-8080 could be involved?

Walker: That's fine, that's fine. Hey, we can work it out together. You and me. We're pretty smart, right? Just tell me everything you know about SCP-8080. Where is it right now, Eleanor?

ELLORY pauses, fighting for words.

Ellory: In… Area-22.

Walker: No you stu- that's where it used to be. Where is it now Eleanor? You have to tell me or we're all going to die. We'll be ripped apart, bit by bit. Your whole team Eleanor. After we all trusted you. Is that what you want? Is this what you want?

With a shrieking noise a portion of the wooden floor erupts in a shower of splinters. A giant mechanical hand in a torn and soiled white glove reaches upwards through the hole and snatches Clicker like a child picking up a toy. It drags her backwards. She screams in fear and pain as her ribs audibly crack.

Ellory: NO!

ELLORY lunges forward away from Walker and grabs hold of one of Clicker's arms, trying to pull her back from the hand's grip.

Walker: Hey, let go!

But ELLORY doesn't. Clicker is pulled down into the hole and ELLORY is dragged along with her. WALKER stares after them.

Walker: Oh for fuck's sake.

He angrily kicks the corpse in the circle. It crumbles apart into dust.

Walker: Shut it down, Control. Goddamn. Goddamn. I was close that time! Fucking hero act. What a dumb b-

Therapy Session Record - E. Ellory

Extract 3

Foundation Therapist: Dr. Olivia Carrigan (via remote link)

Patient Name: Eleanor Ellory

SECURITY CLEARANCE: LEVEL 5

Patient has expressed concerns regarding recent unusual dreams which may be related to workplace stress and exhaustion. Patient suffers from recurring  depressive episodes and severe negative self-esteem.

E. ELLORY: And, well, then I woke up.

DR. CARRIGAN: As you were being pulled down into the hole?

E. ELLORY: Yes. There was shouting above me and then just… darkness. And I woke up.

DR. CARRIGAN: I see. You've never been part of a mobile task force, have you?

E. ELLORY: Oh good god no. I've never been near one. I mean, well, look at me. I don't think I exactly have the… physique. Or the qualifications. Or the resilience.

DR. CARRIGAN: And yet, when presented with a chance to risk your own life in order to try and help another, you took it.

E. ELLORY: I mean, that was in a dream. I don't think it really counts. There wasn't any actual danger.

DR. CARRIGAN: Perhaps. But your dream-self may not have known that.

E. ELLORY: I guess.

DR. CARRIGAN: Do you consider yourself to be a particularly self-sacrificing person?

[ Eleanor noticeably lowers her gaze and rubs her feet against one another. ]

E. ELLORY: I… I don't really know. I try to be, I suppose. It's important to me to try and do the right thing. Even when it's difficult. I don't like other people being hurt. Or inconvenienced. I guess sometimes I end up… taking on a lot of stuff because I know someone has to do it. Is that what the dream was about?

DR. CARRIGAN: I can't make declarative statements about what a dream is or isn't about. It may be one element of it, and equally, it may not. The psychology of dreams is not an exact science. In fact, many of my colleagues would vehemently argue that it's not a science at all.

E. ELLORY: Of course. Sorry.

DR. CARRIGAN: There's nothing to be sorry about, Eleanor. We're just having a discussion.

E. ELLORY: What other stuff do you think there might be? In the doll dream I mean.

DR. CARRIGAN: Everything I say is going to be at most educated guesswork.

E. ELLORY: I understand, I promise. I'd just… like to hear your opinion.

DR. CARRIGAN: Well, one very prevalent interpretation of dreams that involve violence or bodily harm is that they can be the brain's way of trying to make sense of heavy levels of non-physical wear-and-tear. Worry. Stress. Anxiety.

E. ELLORY: I see.

DR. CARRIGAN: Does that sound relatable to you?

E. ELLORY: Yeah. I mean, I guess its relatable to a lot of people, but… yeah. Things have been really tough just recently.

DR. CARRIGAN: You've mentioned that SCP-8080 has been a recurring feature in two of your dreams so far. Have you experienced any stress or worry related to that case in particular?

E. ELLORY: Yeah, I have. That would make a lot of sense, I guess. SCP-8080 was held in Area-22, where I work. I used to be one of the researchers assigned to the project.

DR. CARRIGAN: Used to be?

E. ELLORY: There was a containment breach. SCP-8080 has gone missing.

Attempt: Reward

Dr. ELEANOR ELLORY walks into the foyer of Area-22 to cheers and applause. Foundation staff are crowding the entranceway, beaming proudly and trying desperately to catch her eye. She gives a small, uncertain wave to the assembled crowd and the applause grows.

As she walks forward colleagues begin to extricate themselves from the mass of bodies to shake her by the hand and offer their congratulations. A squealing Dr. Sarah Holbrook pulls her into an affectionate hug.

Holbrook: Oh Eleanor! I am so, so glad it was you! I can't think of anyone who deserved it more!

Ellory: I, uh, thank you.

Holbrook: I can't believe I'm going to get to tell people that I worked in the same department as the woman who caught SCP-8080!

Ellory: Caught…?

Holbrook: You were so terribly terribly smart and clever and ahhh! I'm monopolizing you! Look, you have to come back to the department break room later - I mean, only if you want of course! Obviously you won't be slumming it with us for too much longer, but we thought we'd open a few bottles of bubbly, and, well, have a toast to your success. It would be just amazing to see you there, OK?

Ellory: Um, OK. I mean, yes. Yes, of course. I'll be there. I'd love to be there.

Holbrook: Super! Oh and do look sharp, I hear the big guy wants a word with you. Maybe he wants your autograph!

Holbrook releases ELLORY with a laugh and heads away down a corridor to their shared department. She's almost skipping with excitement. ELLORY watches her go, stunned.

Then the crowd parts and Area Director DEAN WALKER steps out to greet her with his arms outspread. His chiselled good looks are arranged into a perfect smile of delight.

Walker: Eleanor Ellory! If it isn't the woman of the hour herself! What am I talking about? Woman of the millennium more like! Tracking down SCP-8080 all by yourself, my word. You know there are staff who have worked here their entire lives and haven't done as much for the world as you have.

He puts a hand beside his mouth and speaks in an exaggerated stage whisper.

Walker: I might just be one of them.

The crowd titters with laughter. Dr. Marcus Cook, the head of ELLORY's department, holds up a sign reading THANK YOU ELEANOR.

Walker: Now come, come! Away from this riffraff unfit to lick your boots. We have important matters to discuss in my office.

WALKER puts a hand gently but firmly on ELLORY's back and begins to steer her along a corridor.

Walker: I imagine you're already thinking about what you're going to do when you get out of this dump, eh?

Ellory: Um…

WALKER gives a large conspiratorial wink.

Walker: I don't think I'm spoiling too much when I say that several little birdies have been telling that once your report on SCP-8080 clears a rather large promotion is winding its way to you. On the Ethics Committee.

Ellory: The Ethics Committee? Do you… can you get promoted to the Ethics Committee for research work?

WALKER pats her heavily on the shoulder.

Walker: Well it certainly seems you can. But what on earth can't you do? Of course, tracking down SCP-8080 can hardly be described as mere research work. That takes brains. That takes guts. That takes a great sense of humour and a wonderful personality. And Eleanor, you've got the lot.

Ellory: I don't know what to say.

Walker: Don't say anything! Just imagining it, Eleanor. You leading the Ethics Committee-

Ellory: Leading?

Walker: Making sure the Foundation stays on the straight and narrow, just how you like it. Helping people. Seeing all those SCPs get top quality food and their own garden to roam around in. Free range anomalies!

Ellory: I don't… I mean I'd never imagined…

Walker: Well its only one option of course. There'll be plenty of positions available to you now. You could be a Site Director! You could have my job! This, Eleanor, could all be yours!

WALKER pulls ELLORY into the Area Director's office and leads her over to his desk. Behind it a long line of floor-to-ceiling windows displays a sprawling garden beneath a perfect baby blue sky.

He takes a seat and gestures her towards a chair.

Walker: Now, Eleanor, there was just one small thing. I didn't want to mention it in front of the staff since it is a little embarrassing.

He places a large document folder onto the desk, open to the first page. It's headed "SCP-8080" and features a smiling photograph of ELLORY. She looks radiant. Most of the page is filled in with technical details but there's a large space in the middle after the words "Present Location:"

Walker: Your report on SCP-8080. You submitted it with one tiny mistake. You forgot to write down where SCP-8080 actually is. Now obviously if anyone found out that you'd made such an elementary error it would be catastrophic for your future career plans. But I'm your friend, Eleanor. And I like you. I want you to be the success you deserve to be. So I'm just going to let you fill it in now and we won't have to tell anyone else about your little faux pas, alright?

WALKER flashes a winning smile as he hands her a pen. ELLORY takes it hesitantly, holding it over the page.

Ellory: I submitted this?

Walker: Yes Eleanor, now do go on. You haven't forgotten where SCP-8080 is have you? Goodness, just imagine how all those people who thought so highly of you would react if they heard you'd been so incompetent.

Ellory: No, no, I haven't forgotten.

Walker: Good. Good. Now just write it down here and it'll all be finished.

ELLORY lowers the pen to the paper and tries to write, but nothing comes out of the nib.

Ellory: Sorry, I think it's broken.

Walker: Not a problem, not a problem.

WALKER hands her a second pen. She tries again with the same result.

Walker: Not a problem!

WALKER pulls the pen out of her hand and violently throws it across the room.

Walker: Here, have a pencil.

He passes her one and begins drumming his fingers impatiently on the desk in front of him. ELLORY starts to write. Then after a few moments she raises the pencil and looks down in horror at the paper. She tries to pull the folder from the desk.

Ellory: This isn't-

Walker: Let me see!

WALKER forcefully rips the folder from her grasp and inspects it carefully. ELLORY has written "FUCK YOU" fourteen times in the space provided.

Walker: Great. That's just great. Thanks, Eleanor.

Ellory: I'm so sorry, I don't understand what happened!

WALKER leans back in his swivel chair and kicks at the ground. He makes two full rotations before stopping himself and leaning forward over the desk.

Walker: Do you know what I don't understand Eleanor? Why you're such an ungrateful bitch.

Ellory: What?

Walker: I gave you everything that someone like you could want. I made you popular. I made people who wouldn't touch you with a barge pole sing your praises. I permitted you to believe that there were actually people in this world who cared about you. And what is my reward for my tireless hard work and kindness?

He holds up the top page of the file and slowly crumples it into a ball.

Walker: Frankly Eleanor at this point this is very clearly your fault rather than mine. I'm very good at what I do. I'm the best, in fact. So obviously the problem here is that there's something wrong with you. I'm sure you've heard that plenty of times before.

ELLORY stands up.

Ellory: You are not the Director. Just who the hell are you?

WALKER throws his hands up in mock astonishment.

Walker: I'm not? Gosh! You know your perpetual stupidity could be almost adorable if it was from someone just a bit more attractive. Well, maybe a lot more attractive.

Ellory: You're… We've met before. I know you.

Walker: Control, pause the sequence and get me a large drink. Actually two large drinks. Actually Control scratch the large drinks, there's something else I want to try.

Therapy Session Record - E. Ellory

Extract 4

Foundation Therapist: Dr. Olivia Carrigan (via remote link)

Patient Name: Eleanor Ellory

SECURITY CLEARANCE: LEVEL 5

Patient has expressed concerns regarding recent unusual dreams which may be related to workplace stress and exhaustion. Patient suffers from recurring  depressive episodes and severe negative self-esteem.

E. ELLORY: God, what a complete asshole. Why would I dream about someone like that?

DR. CARRIGAN: A lot of unpleasant things can live in our heads. Sometimes dreams are a way for us to acknowledge and confront those fears.

E. ELLORY: It's so weird. I know I haven't actually met that guy in real life, I'd remember that face, but… at the end of the dream, I had such a strong feeling of recognition. Like I'd known him from somewhere and I'd just worked out who he was. That was the last thing before I woke up. Feeling really good that'd worked out where I'd seen him before.

DR. CARRIGAN: He might well have been a composite character. An amalgamation of men who have behaved abusively towards you in the past or who you hold negative feelings towards. And you may on some level of consciousness have identified one of the individuals who he represents. That would certainly qualify as a breakthrough. But at the moment I'm rather more interested in the role that SCP-8080 is playing in your dreams.

E. ELLORY: Why?

DR. CARRIGAN: Eleanor, in the last dream you described to me SCP-8080 has developed from a motif of your psyche to a fixation. As I've said, dreams are rarely uncomplicated things and one cannot say with absolute certainty what a dream is trying to tell you. But I believe that it would be extremely unlikely for such a specific element to recur so often if it was not something that was very important to you.

E. ELLORY: I suppose.

DR. CARRIGAN: Could you perhaps tell me a little bit about your work with SCP-8080?

E. ELLORY: It has a pretty high security level…

DR. CARRIGAN: I have the same security clearance that my patients do. You can speak as freely as you wish here Eleanor. It's entirely up to you, but I think that given everything you've told me so far it would be a beneficial topic to discuss.

E. ELLORY: Alright. I can try.

DR. CARRIGAN: Just as long as you're comfortable.

E. ELLORY: SCP-8080 is a… juvenile female presenting humanoid that… look, she's a little girl, OK? God I hate that revolting, dehumanising, containment procedure-ese. She's a little girl. She's eight years old. And she is the most beautiful, perfect thing you will ever see. Or rather you won't see, because she's spent her entire life trapped in a box.

DR. CARRIGAN: You felt the standards of her containment unit were lacking?

E. ELLORY: She shouldn't be in a containment unit. She should be in a home. I- We did our best. All the researchers assigned to her care absolutely loved her. She was so sweet and so polite and so full of life. And if it had just been us, looking after her, maybe that would have been OK. But she was put straight into the Anomalous Asset Programme. You know who they are?

DR. CARRIGAN: Why don't you tell me in your words.

E. ELLORY: They make people into things. They take people with anomalous abilities and they make them into weapons or tools or batteries. For the greater good.

[ Eleanor pulls out a tissue and blows her nose ]

E. ELLORY: She wasn't dangerous by herself. She didn't have to live that way. They kept her like that because they wanted to use her.

[ Eleanor puts the tissue back into her pocket and searches for another. ]

E. ELLORY: You know they forbade us from even giving her a name? It would interfere with the AAP's education programme for her. So SCP-8080 it had to be. We did anyway. The researchers, I mean. Not around her, but in private. We called her Chloe. And it broke my heart not being able to tell her that. Not being able to tell her her own name.

DR. CARRIGAN: And then there was a containment breach at Area-22. And she escaped.

E. ELLORY: … Yeah.

DR. CARRIGAN: You obviously care for her a very great deal.

E. ELLORY: I do. I love her. I love her very much.

Attempt: Love

ELEANOR ELLORY is led out of a police car in handcuffs. Her shoulders are hunched and her eyes are fixed on the pavement. Her breathing is low and shallow. She's trembling.

On either side of her, cordoned off by large police barriers, a group of activists stands and shouts. They wear shirts and are carrying placards with pictures of SCP-8080's face on them. "Give her back," one man bellows. "Scum!" screams a woman. A bottle arcs out of the crowd and shatters at ELLORY's feet.

Two large officers, one on either side of her, quickly lead ELLORY up a set of stone steps and into the police station. There is silence inside. Police and civilians stare at her as she's walked past them in mute disgust. The walls inside the station are plastered with hundreds of posters showing the same blurry photograph of SCP-8080. KIDNAPPED is written in large black letters beneath the pictures.

ELLORY is pushed into an interrogation room where Detective DEAN WALKER is already waiting for her.

Walker: Sit.

ELLORY does so. She does not look up.

WALKER gestures to the handcuffs.

Walker: We won't be needing those. I don't think this one's going to be giving us any trouble.

One of the officers brusquely uncuffs her. ELLORY continues to stare at the table.

Walker: Now then.

Walker slides one of the KIDNAPPED posters across the table so that the picture is directly under ELLORY's gaze.

Walker: Where is she, Eleanor?

ELLORY's voice comes out in a low half-whisper.

Ellory: You don't have any evidence. You don't have any proof.

Walker: I don't care about proof right now Eleanor. Frankly I don't care much about you. I don't care if you rot in prison for the rest of your life or if you manage to squirm your way back onto the streets. All I care about right now is that a little girl is missing, and I want to bring her home safe.

ELLORY squirms in her seat and wrings her hands together.

Walker: And if you were capable of caring about her at all, you'd be helping me.

Ellory: I do care about her. I love her.

Walker: You wanted her, Eleanor. That's not the same thing. If you really loved her then you'd want what was best for her, not for you.

Ellory: I know what's best for her and it's not that… that place!

Walker: It's her home Eleanor. It's where she belongs. It's the only place she'll ever belong.

Ellory: That's not true.

Walker: You're being so cruel to her, Eleanor. So heartless. So selfish.

Ellory: I'm not!

WALKER leans forward, lowering his voice.

Walker: You don't honestly think that someone like you could actually look after a child, do you Eleanor? You can't even look after yourself.

ELLORY's hands tremble.

Walker: Do you want her to have your life, Eleanor? Do you really want to punish her like that?

ELLORY digs the nails of her right hand into the flesh of her left.

Walker: Think about your childhood. No father to love you and a mother who, well… You can see why he left. And let's face it, you're bound to turn out the same way, aren't you?

There are tears in ELLORY's eyes. She tries to blink them back.

Walker: She's such a sweet, pretty little girl, isn't she Eleanor? Sure a pure little thing. What on earth has she done to deserve being burdened with a useless, decrepit old lump like you?

Ellory: Shut up! Shut up!

Walker: She needs to come home now. To be with her real family. With people who can actually take care of her.

Ellory: Stop it…

Walker: That poor little girl… all alone out there while you're in here. Whatever will she do if you don't come back?

Ellory: She's not alone! I would never leave her alone!

Walker: Oh? Then prove it to me Eleanor. Who's she with? Tell us their names. Let us make sure she's being taken care of properly.

Ellory: No. No no no no no!

Walker: You need to give up now, Eleanor. For her sake.

Ellory: No…

Walker: She's not yours, Eleanor. She's ours.

ELLORY stays silent. She picks up the KIDNAPPED poster in front of her and stares at it.

Walker: You want her to be safe, don't you?

Ellory: Yes…

Walker: Then tell me where SCP-8080 is.

Ellory: … Alright. Alright. You're right. She needs… she needs this.

WALKER smiles benevolently.

Walker: That's it. Tell me where she is.

Ellory: She's in… I can't… I can't remember…

Walker: Just think hard, Eleanor. Try to picture it.

Ellory: It's cold and… there's a big building. With stone. It's in a town that… I can't quite see the name… I can't… I can't… Oh god, I can't remember! Can… can I have five minutes to get some air?

Walker: I need to know NOW Eleanor!

Ellory: Please! Just five minutes. I can't see it! It's all so blurry. I just need to calm down. I'm so close.

Walker: … Alright. Yeah, sure, fine. Five minutes.

ELLORY stands up, puts the poster face down on the table and walks unsteadily to the door. No one stops her.

After a few moment WALKER breathes out heavily.

Walker: Hoo! Well, I think that's pretty much mission accomplished Control. Let's make that three obnoxiously large drinks with as many umbrellas and sparklers as you can cram into them.

Control: You don't have the info yet.

Walker: Yeah, but I will. I know how it is when they get to that level. She's broken. The dream sequence is probably just messing with her real memory retrieval. It happens sometimes.

Control: If you say so.

WALKER begins to tap on the table with his fingers and hum to the tune of Africa by Toto. After a little over a minute he reaches out and pulls the paper poster towards him, flipping over.

Walker: And I hope they're bloody grateful. All this work for one snot-nosed little- Oh fucking fuck-shit!

WALKER leaps to his feet, knocking over the interview table. The word KIDNAPPED on the poster has disappeared and in its place is written, in ELLORY's handwriting, "This isn't real. Don't tell them anything. Get out."

WALKER lunges at the door and turns the handle, but it remains shut.

Walker: Why is the fucking door locked Control?

Control: Well I didn't do it!

Walker: That goddamn BITCH!

WALKER violently kicks at the door until it splinters and breaks open. Outside every poster displaying SCP-8080 has changed. The word KIDNAPPED has been replaced by SAVE HER.

Walker: Where the fuck is she?

Control: I don't know! Why didn't the cops stop her?

Walker: Because I made them to glare at her in ominous silence, not to catch escaped prisoners! Fuck!

WALKER rampages through the police station, searching. As he knocks into police officers they fall apart into nothingness.

Control: Do I pause the sequence?

Walker: Not when we don't have eyes on her, moron. It'll take days to reset.

Control: How did she change the posters? And affect the lock?

Walker: Obviously she's influencing the dream. She's gaining resilience to the system.

Control: I thought you only got that if you did the same sequence over and over?

Walker: Yeah, well, I guess you thought wrong then shit-for-brains.

Control: That's just what you told me.

Walker: I KNOW WHAT I FUCKING TOLD YOU YOU PIECE OF- Oh goddammit.

There's a door in a wall where a door shouldn't be. It's hanging open, and beyond it is the fictionalised office of DEAN WALKER, Director of Area-22.

Walker: Control, you haven't cleared the data stack right?

Control: Nope.

Walker: She's burrowing. Well, that's not a problem. Lots of rodents do it.

WALKER strides through the door into the office. On the other side of the room another door is waiting, leading to a bloody wooden corridor. WALKER continues on. From the darkness something shouts "Daddy!" at him. He raises a middle finger.

Walker: Not in the mood.

WALER steps through another door into a crystal-lined hall. Rye Blacksong gives him a sinister smile and steps out in front of him. WALKER turns him to dust.

Walker: Not in the sodding mood.

He walks through a final door into a meadow beneath an overcrowded starry sky. ELLORY is there, facing away from him and panting.

Walker: End of the line, Eleanor.

ELLORY turns sharply and hurls a red thermos flask at him. It bounces off harmlessly but the coffee sloshes out of it, covering his face and hair and staining his police detective outfit.

Walker: God fucking dammit!

Ellory: Get the hell out of my dreams you Freddy Krueger wannabe asshole!

WALKER raises a fist to strike her but catches himself at the last moment. He spits coffee out onto the grass and glowers.

Walker: Don't you see how completely pointless this all is? There's no way out, Eleanor. There's no exit button. There's no point in fighting. All that's going to happen is that we have to do this whole song and dance again and again and again until you tell me where SCP-8080 is hiding.

Ellory: Fuck you. Her name is Chloe and she is a child. She is eight years old. Does that not mean anything to you? Do you not care what's going to happen to her if she's found?

Walker: Honestly? Not really. So it's a kid. There's like a billion of them. I don't particularly care if they want to weaponise it or lock it away or cut up into tiny itty bitty little pieces. It's not my job to care. It wasn't your job to care, Eleanor. It's my job to crack skulls open and see what juicy little secrets tumble out, and I happen to be very, very good at it. I have an almost unblemished record which you are not going to mess up. So please, save us both some time and tell me where it is.

ELLORY leans forward and spits in his face.

Ellory: She is safe, and you are never going to find her.

WALKER's face flushes crimson with fury. He raises a fist again but lets it drop.

Walker: Fine. We'll keep playing it your way, Eleanor. It'll be more fun anyway. Control, stop this sequence and prep that new one I've been working on. d925c51b.

Control: Uh, that wasn't actually on our approved list for today's session, so I don't think it has official clearance yet.

Walker: Control, I'm not having a good day today. And really soon I'm going to have to take that out on someone. Don't make that someone you.

Therapy Session Record - E. Ellory

Extract 5

Foundation Therapist: Dr. Olivia Carrigan (via remote link)

Patient Name: Eleanor Ellory

SECURITY CLEARANCE: LEVEL 5

Patient has expressed concerns regarding recent unusual dreams which may be related to workplace stress and exhaustion. Patient suffers from recurring  depressive episodes and severe negative self-esteem.

E. ELLORY: And then, right, and then it was like I was actually controlling the dream. Or sort of me anyway. Like a subconscious me. Or an unconscious me. Leavening me messages from me.

DR. CARRIGAN: You were lucid dreaming?

E. ELLORY: No, because, look- sort of? But listen, OK, listen. I went through the other dreams. All the other weird dreams I've had. They are literally all connected.

DR. CARRIGAN: We can frequently shift from one scenario to another within the same dream, often without it making much sense.

E. ELLORY: Ohhhh but this made sense alright. Absolute sense. Because I realised that it's the same guy! In every dream, it's the same guy. The guy I recognised. The douchebag.

[ Eleanor clicks her fingers in frustration. ]

E. ELLORY: God, it's on the tip of my tongue. I can't remember his name but he's there, he's always there. And I hit him with a thermos flask.

DR. CARRIGAN: Eleanor, you're becoming quite excited. I'm glad that you're in a positive mind space at the moment and appreciate your enthusiasm, but do you think we could dial things back just a little bit. Dreams can be a fascinating subject to explore and discuss, but they are just dreams.

[ Eleanor claps her hand together in small rapid movements. ]

E. ELLORY: No, no but you see that's the thing. I don't think these are just dreams. I don't think that they're dreams at all. Or not real dreams anyway. I think this asshole is actually in my head. Because he wants SCP-8080. Because he wants to find Chloe. But he's not going to find Chloe, oh no no no. I hit that bastard with a thermos flask and I'll do it again!

DR. CARRIGAN: Eleanor, please, calm down. We can discuss your thoughts in detail in a moment but I think it would be good for us to have a small pause here and deescalate. Would you take some deep breathes in and some deep breaths out for me?

E. ELLORY: I don't have time for that! I've got to… um… I've got to…

DR. CARRIGAN: Eleanor? Eleanor? Are you alright?

Attempt: d925c51b

ELEANOR ELLORY walks out of the warm afternoon sunshine and into the art gallery. She looks around her, fascinated. She knows all the pieces here. Most of them are from her inspiration board, the wall of her room where she keeps pictures of artworks that she hopes will inspire her to draw.

She wanders through the gallery for a while until she finds herself sitting on a bench. Opposite her is a picture that makes her tremble. It's Eleanor Ellory, by Eleanor Ellory, and she last saw it when she was transferring it from her drawing pad to the recycling bin.

It looks worse than she remembers, and it's been blown up at least ten times so that it dominates the entire wall. She looks at the irregular bumpy teeth, the uneven smile, the way the inexpert curve of her chin makes it look like it's become swollen from some severe allergic reaction. The hair looks like a single lifeless block. She grimaces at the two-dimensional-looking breasts she had included because she'd convinced herself that nudity and vulnerability made something more artistic.

Nearby, a woman catches ELLORY's eye. ELLORY stares, her mouth agog. The woman is much younger than she should be, and thinner too, wearing a gorgeous black evening dress with diamonds around her throat. But it's unmistakably her mother, Pam.

Pam surveys the painting with an unconcealed snort of laughter. ELLORY's father Michael steps up beside her and hands her a drink. He looks just the way he did in the one photograph she still has of him from before he left. But now he's wearing a tuxedo.

ELLORY looks around to find that it has become night and that everyone in the gallery is now wearing expensive eveningwear. She tucks her sandal-clad feet under the bench and pulls uncomfortably at her thick knitted sweater. The front is covered in egg stains.

A small crowd is forming around her drawing. There's the murmuring noise of many whispers layered on top of one another punctuated by audible sniggers.

Sarah Holbrook stands in front of the picture in a stunning blue gown covered with sapphires. The rest of her department at Area-22 is in the crowd too. Marcus Cook looks dashing in a luxurious white suit. He points ELLORY's picture out to a junior colleague with a look of mock revulsion.

"They'll put anything in a gallery these days," someone says to a chorus of laughter. "Perhaps it's just there for a little light relief between the actual art?" interjects another. "Comic relief perhaps," quips a third. Everyone is laughing.

Holbrook: You know who it reminds me of? It's Eleanor. It's dumpy Eleanor.

Cook: Of course it is! No wonder it gave us such a fright.

The visitors from Area-22 nod and voice their approval.

Holbrook: You know, I thought that grotesque chin had just been drawn badly, but if it's Eleanor then they've got it right on the money.

The laughter swells. ELLORY's mother takes a cigarette from her mouth and looks around for an ashtray. Seeing none, she instead grinds it into ELLORY's picture. The laughter grows louder and louder.

ELLORY sniffs loudly. She searches for a tissue to stem her streaming nose, but she can't find one.

Walker: There's a lot more.

DEAN WALKER, the fabulous, beloved, and deeply handsome art critic, is sitting beside her.

Walker: Do you remember who I am Eleanor?

Ellory: Yeah, you're Dean Walker.

Walker: Well done.

Ellory: You're that creepy asshole whose face I spat in.

A flash of barely contained rage flits across Walker's face, but it's swiftly replaced by a rueful smile.

Walker: I did warn you Eleanor. I tried really hard being nice, you know? I tried to be your friend. I tried to be your hero. I tried to do things the easy way with the minimum amount of disruption to that pink lumpy thing between your ears. But poor stupid Eleanor, you wouldn't have it.

The picture of ELLORY has caught alight from her mother's cigarette. Fire spreads across the canvas to cheers from the gallery attendees. Behind the flames the artwork comes alive, clawing woefully at its face and sobbing fat cartoonish tears. The face warps, sprouting boils and blisters. Its chin becomes larger and larger. On the bench, ELLORY's eyes and cheeks are damp.

Walker: So try this one on for size. You can tell me where SCP-8080 is, or I can leave you here. I'll put it into a loop, so you can go through it again, and again, and again. You won't be able to remember what's happening, and you'll never get used to it, but underneath you'll still have the nagging feeling that you've been here far, far too long. I can make it feel like years are passing in here Eleanor. Oh, I'll be sure to check in on you every few decades or so, see that things are still functioning properly, find out if you've come to your senses and want to give me SCP-8080's location. Or you could do the smart thing and we can end it all right now. What do you say?

ELLORY turns to him, tears still falling from her eyes, and laughs in his face.

Ellory: This is what you're going with? Honestly. And you keep whining that you're good at your job. My brain does worse things to me than this on an average Friday night.

WALKER's lip curls.

Walker: I can make it worse than this, Eleanor. Much, much worse. I can make it forever. I can make it hell.

ELLORY shakes her head.

Ellory: You've never had a kid before, have you Dean? Not one you loved, anyway. Because if you think for even one single, solitary second that I would rather live my life having betrayed Chloe to a piece of shit like you than to sit here for eternity and listen to some figments of my imagination insult my weight and art skills then you're even more stupid than I thought.

WALKER clenches his jaw. His cheeks are turning red.

Walker: No I don't have any children Eleanor, but then again, neither do you. That's why you stole one from work. At least the normal old bags just buy a cat.

ELLORY chuckles, drying her eyes.

Walker: What's so fucking funny, bitch?

Ellory: You are. You really don't like being told no, do you?

Walker: Next time it comes out of your mouth you're going to be screaming it.

WALKER reaches out a hand towards her throat as if to strangle her, but hesitates.

Ellory: Go on. Try it. I'm not going to feel anything, am I? You can't actually feel pain in these dreams. Fear and panic and stress and exhaustion, yes, but not actual physical nerve-ending-firing pain. And that's why you keep stopping yourself from hitting me, and why you ended the doll dream when you did. Because if I realised that I couldn't be hurt, then I wouldn't have anything to be afraid of. You can't actually do anything to me. All you've got are tricks and schoolyard bullying. And actually most of the kids at my school were much better at it than you.

WALKER punches the bench they're sitting on. It trembles and cracks form on the surface.

Walker: I am going to make you suffer, Eleanor. I'll watch you beg and grovel for your freedom and then I'll lock you up anyway and throw away the key.

Ellory: You're anomalous, aren't you? I mean, this dream stuff isn't just a piece of tech the Foundation has, is it? I really can't imagine they'd use you as an operative if they had absolutely anyone else available.

Walker: You don't know the first fucking thing. Control, end the sequence.

Ellory: Hey, come to think of it, do you really look like that? The prettyboy good looks, the gleaming teeth, the perfect hair, slightly ruined by the bulging eyes and the flecks of spittle at the mouth. Or is this job just where you get to fantasise?

Walker: End the goddamn sequence Control!

Therapy Session Record - E. Ellory

Extract 6

Foundation Therapist: Dr. Olivia Carrigan (via remote link)

Patient Name: Eleanor Ellory

SECURITY CLEARANCE: LEVEL 5

Patient has expressed concerns regarding recent unusual dreams which may be related to workplace stress and exhaustion. Patient suffers from recurring  depressive episodes and severe negative self-esteem.

[ Eleanor laughs softly to herself. ]

DR. CARRIGAN: Has something amused you, Eleanor? Would you like to share?

E. ELLORY: No, no it's fine. You probably wouldn't see the funny side anyway.

DR. CARRIGAN: Very well, just as you like. I think now would be a good to talk to talk a little more about your involvement with SCP-8080.

E. ELLORY: Mmmmm, no.

DR. CARRIGAN: Eleanor, I think-

E. ELLORY: Nope! No, I think you've done enough thinking for one day. I'm going to think now, and do you know what I think? I think that Dean Walker is anomalous. And that he's the only one who can actually appear physically in my dreams. And that is why you are just a voice on a computer rather than actually being in the room.

DR. CARRIGAN: Eleanor, I provide therapeutic support to Foundation employees at many facilities across the world. Unfortunately, I cannot be physically stationed at all of them simultaneously.

E. ELLORY: You know, it's kind of amazing, the absolute nonsense that you accept as normal when you're dreaming, isn't it? Like going back and forth between having weird-ass dreams and having a therapy session about your weird-ass dreams with nothing at all in between. When am I supposed to have had those dreams, doctor? I haven't left here once since I started dreaming.

DR. CARRIGAN: Eleanor, I don't think that you're very well. Could you do me a favour and make yourself a warm drink while I contact someone who can check in on you?

E. ELLORY: Sorry Doctor, but I'm going to have to take a rain check on that. I've got things to do, places to be.

[ Eleanor stands up, stretches, and then walks out of the room through the door. ]

DR. CARRIGAN: … shit. Uh, hey Walker? We have a bit of a problem.

D. WALKER: What is it Control? I'm busy.

DR. CARRIGAN: She's figured it out. Could you come up to the therapy room?

[ A new door appears in the wall of the room and Dean Walker steps through it. ]

D. WALKER: Well? Where is she?

DR. CARRIGAN: She left.

D. WALKER: She can't leave. There isn't anywhere to leave to.

[ Walker opens the door that Eleanor passed through. There's a solid black void on the other side. ]

D. WALKER: Bugger.

DR. CARRIGAN: Has she gone back into the sequence pile?

D. WALKER: No. Much more annoying. I think she's actually gone into her own mind. Damn, she's adapting fast.

DR. CARRIGAN: Walker, maybe this is the point where we should-

D. WALKER: Shut up, Control. It's not a problem. She's a skulking, scuttling little troglodyte who got lucky and I'm, well, me. I can find her. Look, do me a favour. End the therapy sequence and then go and turn on the system's pain replicators.

DR. CARRIGAN: … I don't have permission to do that.

D. WALKER: I am giving you permission.

DR. CARRIGAN: Walker, you don't have the authority to give that permission. We need to consult the Director and get written authorisation from the Ethics Committee before-

D. WALKER: Oh fuck the Ethics Committee. I am not waiting however many hours it takes to get some impotent shit-eating desk humping suit to rubber stamp a piece of paper so I can do my fucking job.

DR. CARRIGAN: But we can't. There'll be disciplinary action.

D. WALKER: Who says they have to find out about it, huh? I just need a few hours. The Foundation want their brat back. They're not going to care how it happened once it's done.

DR. CARRIGAN: If I can just call-

D. WALKER: If you don't do what I fucking say right now then I'm going to tell them it's your fault she got away and your fault that they didn't get their precious SCP-8080 back. In fact, I'll refuse to do another job while you're still with the Foundation. I'll make sure you're out on your ass with absolutely nothing to your name. I'll make sure that every bit of work I do here is conditional upon having regular updates about how absolutely shit your life is. Who do you think they're going to choose to keep happy, hmm? Their one-of-a-kind golden boy who picks the brains of all their enemies and traitors and saves oodles and oodles of lives, or some worthless lab rat who could be replaced tomorrow?

[ There is silence. ]

D. WALKER: Yeah, that's what I thought. Oh and Control? Be a doll and make sure those drinks are ready for me too.

Attempt: {[Undefined%;error_%;error_%;error_%;error_%;erro

DEAN WALKER steps into a dream.

He's standing in an offputtingly white room in an offputtingly clinical building that he recognises instantly. It's Area-22, though a much more faithful recreation than his own version.

There is no cheering crowd of staff members here. There is no one here at all. No one except…

He closes his eyes and feels the slight trembling hum of ELLORY's consciousness. His lips curl into a wide smile.

Walker: Gotcha.

WALKER pours his voice into the very foundations of the world around him. When he speaks it comes from everywhere and nowhere all at once, echoing through every part of the dream Area-22. He wants her to hear this.

Walker: Well well well, Eleanor, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this besides ruining the scenery?

He begins to walk through the facility, a spring in his step.

Walker: You know, most people looking for a place of safety would dream themselves to their family or their friends but - oh dear! Of course, you don't have any of those things, do you? Doing paperwork in this place is about the closest thing you have to a life.

He strolls along a corridor, whistling jauntily.

Walker: Boy oh boy, how much are you wishing that you were back under that starry sky with good ol' Agent Walker, eh? You could have been happy there, Eleanor. But I guess even you're smart enough to know that you don't deserve that, right?

WALKER enters the Area-22 canteen and begins to kick over tables. He laughs.

Walker: Hey baby, how about a yoghurt? You know you love 'em!

He moves into the kitchen space and picks up a large kitchen knife. He plays with it, slicing at the air, gauging its weight.

Walker: Oh! You were right by the way. About the pain. Horribly incomplete of me, wasn't it? Denying you the full experience. But don't you worry your not-so-pretty little head about a thing, Eleanor. We take your feedback very, very seriously here and I've taken steps to fix that pesky defect. So do be careful if you stub your toe.

WALKER pauses for a moment as he leaves the canteen and watches as the room starts to fall apart. Cracks spread through the walls and furniture as they crumble into dust leaving only a void of solid darkness behind.

Walker: Let's play a game, Eleanor. You run, and I take away all the places you can hide.

WALKER begins to move along a door-filled corridor at a leisurely pace, swinging his knife.

Walker: Come out, come out, wherever you are.

He opens each door as he passes them, glancing in and then moving on. They decay in his wake.

Walker: I can feel you, you know. A little pressure at the back of my neck. Like a flea. Or an annoying boil.

He carries on, roaming through the building. The world behind him disintegrates, masonry collapsing into nothingness, space collapsing into void.

Walker: I'm getting tired of this Eleanor. Why don't you come out and we'll discuss this whole thing like reasonable adults?

WALKER kicks a bin. It launches into the air and stays there, unencumbered by gravity.

Walker: You know, maybe the gallery was the wrong approach. Being surrounded by people who hate you? Pff, that's just your normal life.

He pushes through a set of double doors. They sag and collapse like damp tissue paper.

Walker: But I can put you in other places. Nicer places.

As WALKER passes by a series of offices their computer monitors change to display a picture of SCP-8080.

Walker: You give me what I want, and I can give you… anything, Eleanor. Any little dream your heart desires.

The office furniture begins to float gently into the air. The glass window panes dissolve into puddles of goo.

Walker: Maybe a birthday party that people actually come to. Or a world where you're a few pounds lighter.

Ellory: Fuck you!

WALKER turns his head from side to side, trying to pinpoint the origin of the voice. But it's coming from the dream, from everywhere and nowhere.

Walker: You could do! We were getting awfully close under those stars before you spoiled things, weren't we? Wasn't there just the smallest spark between us in the Director's office? And gosh, even in the gallery you were going on and on about my dashingly good looks. Do you really like my hair that much? It's almost enough to make a dreamwalker blush.

Ellory: Wait, is that why you called yourself Dean Walker? Oh god, that's terrible.

ELLORY's laughter echoes throughout the building. WALKER's features contort in anger. He speaks through gritted teeth.

Walker: It's the best deal you'll get this lifetime you know. There's nothing left for you out there, Eleanor. Did I not tell you? They'd already tortured you by the time they brought you to me. Cut all sorts of bits off. Boy, if you thought you were an unattractive lump before-

WALKER kicks open the door to a bathroom.

Walker: Really there's just a head and some stringy bits left. We were planning to play piñata with it after we're done.

The laughter doesn't stop. WALKER furiously kicks the wall beside him. It dissolves into powder.

Walker: You're making a mistake Eleanor. Biggest mistake of your life. Possibly the last one too. But there's still time to make a deal before I catch you. You can still join the winning side.

WALKER comes to a fork with two doors. He steps towards one, pauses, and then moves to the other with a smile.

Walker: Hey, if a dream isn't good enough for you maybe we can find something you'll like on the outside.

He lunges through the door, thrusting his knife out, but no one appears to be there. He's entered another corridor lined with the doors of humanoid containment chambers. He begins to move along it slowly, his knife raised.

Walker: You didn't believe that story about cutting you up, right? Of course not. You're way too smart to fall for one of my little jokes. Maybe we can-

ELLORY steps out behind WALKER and swings a baseball bat into the back of his skull. Due to the height difference, part of the blow's energy is taken by Walker's upper back, but he still staggers forward with a bellow of agony.

Ellory: Hey there prettyboy. Guess I'm not the only one who can feel pain, huh?

ELLORY tries to step forward, raising the bat to strike again, but the angle of the corridor shifts into a slope and ELLORY is forced to step backwards again to maintain her balance. WALKER wheels round and the corridor returns to normal.

Walker: Nothing wrong with a little pain now and again. Reminds you that you're alive. Of course what you'll be going through, Eleanor, is a lot more than a little pain.

WALKER brandishes his knife.

Walker: Nice bat, Eleanor. Doesn't really seem to fit the aesthetic of this place very well though. Where'd you get it?

Ellory: I played a lot of baseball when I was a girl. I was pretty great at it, honestly. I used to dream about going pro until my mother stopped taking me to games anyway.

Walker: Bet you're wishing mommy had taken you to a shooting range instead.

WALKER attempts to swing towards ELLORY's chest with the knife. She brings the bat up to block the blade, but he swerves, leaving a shallow cut on her right arm instead. WALKER steps back, grinning.

Walker: You know Eleanor, I don't like you very much. I'm sure you have that effect on a lot of people.

WALKER makes a couple of quick feints, lunging forward and dancing back, watching how ELLORY moves to defend herself.

Walker: I really do want to jam this knife through your throat very, very badly right now and put you out of my misery, but you know what I've decided I want even more? I want to give SCP-8080 to the Foundation.

ELLORY steps into a swing, attempting to strike Walker's right knife-wielding arm. He evades and lands a slice on her left.

Walker: So they can lock her up in a pokey, soulless little room where the nice folks from the Anomalous Asset Programme can poke her and prod her and teach her to get cheese out of a maze.

WALKER makes another feint and ELLORY steps back.

Walker: They can raise her to be a weapon or a tool or a battery. And she'll forget alllll about you. Won't even remember your name.

WALKER makes another feint and ELLORY steps back again. She stumbles, but catches herself. WALKER grins, advancing.

Walker: Or maybe they'll tell her bedtime stories about the nasty old witch who tried to kidnap her and who'll come back for her again if she doesn't eat her vegetables up. You can be her monster under the bed!

WALKER lunges forward, swinging upwards. ELLORY manages to block the blade with the bat, stepping backwards again.

Walker: And then, one day, she'll end up as loyal little Foundation utility. Just like me. Isn't that a happy thought?

WALKER thrusts the blade forward wildly and ELLORY slams the bat down onto his right arm. He screams and drops the knife, but continues his attack, using his forward momentum to drive his left elbow into ELLORY's stomach. She's knocked backwards and falls to the floor.

Walker: Fucking bitch!

WALKER attempts to slam his foot down on ELLORY's stomach but she rolls to her left to dodge. He tries again but ELLORY brings the bat up into his crotch. It doesn't have much force behind it but WALKER staggers back with a pained yelp. ELLORY tries to stand up, using the bat for leverage, but the corridor tilts again, raising WALKER and lowering ELLORY who falls and drops the bat. It begins to slide away. WALKER steps forward and aims a kick at ELLORY's head, but the corridor's shift suddenly reverses, dropping WALKER's side and raising ELLORY's.

Ellory: My dream, asshole!

Both WALKER and ELLORY begins to slide down the ramp. The baseball bat rolls past ELLORY. She lunges out, but instead her hands grab onto the edge of one of the containment chamber doors.

The knife rolls past Walker. He snatches it up.

The floor returns to normal. WALKER starts to scramble to his feet. ELLORY uses the door to pull herself upright and begins franticly typing a code into its keypad. WALKER's knife slides in front of her throat.

Walker: Now goodness me, just what on earth are you…

WALKER looks at the door and begins to laugh. In the middle of the door is a sign that reads: SCP-8080.

Walker: Oh. Oh, that is good. Oh Eleanor I could kiss you if you weren't so absolutely repulsive and disgusting. So that's why you were in this dump. You've been learning to manipulate your mind and you put all your naughty little memories of her here, didn't you? Sneaky sneaky.

ELLORY visibly shakes, and when she speaks it comes out as a sob.

Ellory: I just… wanted to be with her again.

WALKER bites his lower lip with an expression of bliss.

Walker: Oh I do love that sound.

Ellory: Even if it's only my memories of her. I thought… I knew when I left the gallery that I was never getting out of here. That it was hopeless.

Walker: Completely hopeless. Utterly devoid of anything even approaching the barest hint of hope.

Ellory: It was true what you'd said. I was never going to be able to win.

Walker: Not in a million, billion years my dear, wretched Eleanor. I'll give you points for trying though. I've never met anybody who's taken to dreams so fast. Let alone a nobody like you.

Ellory: But I… I knew if I could just put it all in one place, how I got her out, where she is, who's taking care of her… then I could protect her. I could… go inside, and close the door in a way that made sure no one could ever open it again. And then I could spend whatever time I have left in those dreams… with her.

ELLORY blinks rapidly as if fighting off tears.

Ellory: Walker… you have to understand now, right? How much she means to me. I can't… I can't stand this anymore. Please, please could you just… let me go through? Just tell them I escaped. That you couldn't get to me in time. Please… let me keep her safe.

Walker: Oh Eleanor, Eleanor, Eleanor. But of course! What can I say? I see it all now. What a complete rotter I've been. Your tragic tale has warmed my stony heart and I am filled with the milk of human kindness. How could I possibly say no to those big puppy dog eyes?

He leans in until his lips are almost against her ear and speaks in a low whisper.

Walker: Go on. Open your door, and I'll let you slip right through.

ELLORY raises a trembling hand and presses a final key. There's a gentle hiss, and the door swings open. Beyond it, instead of a containment chamber, there's a dimly lit windowless room with a dusty red carpet. The figure of a small girl with long straight black hair is sitting in the middle of it, her back to the doorway. She's moving a small toy train back and forth.

Walker: Thank you, Eleanor. A complete and utter failure to the last. A total thicky in every sense of the word.

WALKER throws ELLORY carelessly aside where she lands on the floor in a crumpled heap.

Ellory: But… but-

WALKER mimics her shrilly.

Walker: But but but! Look, I would love to sit here and savour every one of those gloriously pathetic whimpers, but I'm afraid I have a renegade SCP's location to record so that a lot of big scary people with big scary guns can track her down.

He grins.

Walker: And put big scary holes into everyone who's been protecting her. You really are a hopeless idiot Eleanor. Now, don't go away. Because once the Foundation has the information they need I think that they're going to be so happy with me that they're really not going to bother looking too closely at how I spend the rest of my time in here. And I still have such wonderful nightmares to show you.

WALKER cracks his knuckles one at a time.

Walker: I must dash, but just before I go I want you to know that when they do recapture SCP-8080, I'm going to make sure she hears that it was you who gave her up. Flipped on her at the first opportunity. Living it up on some far away island with the money you made trading her back to the Foundation. And my goodness, I've just had another thought. I'm sure she'll have met simply oodles of treacherous Foundation types on her little flight to freedom with you. People who need identifying. Why, I might even be kind enough to offer my services to pick through her brain for free. Toodaloo, Eleanor. Don't be too upset. This was always how it was going to end. You were just stupid enough to draw it out.

WALKER waves mockingly and steps through the doorway. The old wooden floorboards creak beneath his feet. The figure of the girl freezes.

Walker: Now little memory, howsabout you tell me just where we are?

The figure's head rotates 180 degrees and a porcelain face smiles back at him. Ugly brown-red stains bleed from its eye sockets. WALKER leaps back with a yell.

Walker: Oh fuck. Oh god. Oh Jesus fucking Christ.

He clasps his chest, taking deep breaths, and then scowls.

Walker: … Oh fucking hell.

He turns around. Behind him, the door has closed. From this side it resembles ordinary wood with ancient peeling red paint. He twists the handle but it doesn't open.

Walker: Fuck me. That vicious, conniving piece of shit. When I catch up to her again I'm going to cut her into tiny living pieces and then set them all on fire. Fuck. FUCK!

The doll lets out a haunting giggle.

Doll: Daddy! You wanna pway wiv me?

Walker: And you can fuck off too.

WALKER waves a hand dismissively at it but nothing happens. Six mechanical, spider-like legs tear their way out of the doll's torso and raise it slowly from the ground. It continues to giggle.

Walker: Control, stop the sequence. It was a trick. The bitch looped me back into the doll house.

The lower half of the doll's face cracks in two, revealing circles of rusty metal saw-blade teeth. The marble eyes in its sockets pop out onto the carpet and tiny maggots begin to spill out.

Walker: Control, stop the sodding sequence.

With the sound of a revving chainsaw, the doll creature's teeth begin to rotate. It crawls slowly forward, the eerie giggling getting louder and louder.

Walker: Control? Control!? Do you read me? CONTROL!! Fucking hell-

WALKER turns and attempts to punch the door. It doesn't break. He tries again, and again. The wood remains unblemished, but the knuckles on Walker's hand have become split and bloodied.

The doll continues to move forward, its body twisting unnaturally on its spikey, uneven legs.

WALKER looks from his bloody knuckles to the doll. His eyes are wide.

Walker: CONTROL! CONTROL FOR GOD'S SAKE TURN OFF THE FUCKING PAIN REPLICATORS!!

Doll: Hey daddy, you got shome mighty pwetty skin. Can I have it, pweeeeeeeease?

Addendum

Doctor OLIVIA CARRIGAN is on a yacht.

It's one of the large, deluxe models with three generously sized stories rising above the deck, but it looks long, long past its prime. Rust has crept unchecked across the bone-white exterior, leaving it pockmarked and disfigured. Dirt and grime mar the already chipped and cracking paintwork. Most of the windows and portholes have shattered, revealing shallow glimpses of a dark, decaying interior.

CARRIGAN is sitting on a white metal sunlounger at the very front of the bow, fully dressed. It is nighttime, and above her is a vast ocean of brilliant stars that gleam like polished gemstones. Far too many stars to be real.

There's an ocean below as well. The water around the yacht is a deep, smooth, oily black that seems to stretch out forever and ever in every direction. The liquid undulates softly in the still air, making the stars reflected in its surface waltz gently back and forth like slow, flickering candles.

Around the rim of the horizon giant blue-white icebergs jut out of the inky blackness like a vast circle of misshapen teeth. CARRIGAN shivers, and tries to pull her jacket tighter around herself.

The world is deathly quiet. The only sounds are the light lapping of water against the hull and the distant creak of metal as the boat rocks placidly from side to side. The yacht appears to be completely deserted, apart from CARRIGAN and her guest.

Lying beside her on a second sunlounger is ELEANOR ELLORY. She's wearing a large pair of sunglasses, baggy shorts, and a Hawaiian shirt covered in brightly coloured flowers.

Slowly she removes her sunglasses, stretches her arms above her with a contented sigh, and then folds them behind her head.

Ellory: Damn. Still pretty.

CARRIGAN stares straight ahead. She says nothing.

Ellory: Not a bad night for it, huh?

CARRIGAN continues to stare directly forward, not turning her head.

Ellory: The trick is zero light pollution. And a good imagination.

CARRIGAN still doesn't look at her.

Carrigan: You can't be here.

Ellory: Well, I couldn't just stay in my head forever. Don't get me wrong, it's a lot nicer than I expected, but it can get a little samey. You get tired of your own company after a while.

Carrigan: I mean… you can't be here. The system shouldn't be active.

Ellory: Ah, well, you'd know best. I guess I can't be here then. So I suppose I must just be a phantom of your guilt-ridden subconscious. Did you know, Doctor, that many psychiatrists believe that dreaming about a small woman on a yacht who calls you a total asshole is a sure sign of problems in the workplace?

CARRIGAN's lip trembles. ELLORY regards her in silence for a while.

Ellory: Did they ever get prettyboy out of his hole?

Carrigan: … Not yet.

Ellory: I imagine they're having trouble finding an exit large enough to squeeze that massive brain of his through.

ELLORY takes a sip from a drink that's now appeared in her hand. It's a mug of cocoa. It has an umbrella in it. And a sparkler.

Ellory: I'd say "I can't believe he fell for that" but you know what, I absolutely can. I've met egotistical shitweasels like him before. Deep down they really do believe that you're just a weak, frightened, gullible little girl who'll break down sobbing and do whatever they want if they push you around hard enough. So if you play along, they're much too arrogant to question it.

ELLORY watches the sparkler until it burns out. CARRIGAN watches too. She doesn't speak.

Ellory: I meant to ask - none of my business of course - but that whole thing with the doll room, was that like a lost connection, or…?

CARRIGAN remains silent.

Ellory: Right. This whole thing is probably going to be recorded, huh? Never mind.

Carrigan: What is it you want, Eleanor?

Ellory: Well Doctor, you asked me to make myself a warm drink and I promised you a rain check. So here we are.

She licks a chocolate moustache off her upper lip.

Ellory: Besides, given our last session got cut a little short, I thought you might be interested to hear how things were going with me.

ELLORY takes a long, slow sip of her cocoa. CARRIGAN hesitates.

Carrigan: … And how are things going with you, Eleanor?

Ellory: You know, honestly? Not half bad. It turns out that having total, unlimited access to a lifetime of your dreams and memories can actually be a really rewarding experience. You should recommend it in therapy.

ELLORY takes another sip. CARRIGAN does not reply.

Ellory: I've got a lot of books to re-read in there. And music to re-listen to. And TV shows to re-watch. A lot of those are pretty awful, to be honest, but I can't blame anyone else for that.

ELLORY finishes her drink. The empty mug ceases to exist.

Ellory: I'm still learning about all the things I can do in dreams. Gravity was pretty easy, once I'd gotten the hang of it. Time is a lot more tricky, but I'm definitely getting better. I can make a baseball game last a whole day, or spend a week living in the sunshine of a single afternoon. Making things is the most fun though. It's a bit like drawing, really. Only apparently I'm a lot better at it.

Carrigan: I'm… glad that you're happy.

ELLORY narrows her eyes.

Ellory: Just to be clear here Doctor, I'm not telling you any of this to soothe your conscience. Living in a dream world isn't the worst fate I could have imagined, but it's still not something I got to choose. I don't forgive you or the Foundation for anything you've done to me.

CARRIGAN looks down.

Carrigan: Eleanor… you stole SCP-8080.

Ellory: You can't steal a person. They don't belong to anyone. But you can make sure they don't have to live in a cage.

Carrigan: It's-

CARRIGAN pauses and bites her lower lip. Her breath comes out in small clouds of white mist.

Carrigan: … She's dangerous, Eleanor.

Ellory: A lot of things can be dangerous. A lot of people, too. Switch on the news sometime.

Carrigan: You know that's not the same thing. She has… unique characteristics. She was in containment for a reason.

Ellory: And what exactly is it that you think Chloe's going to do, Doctor?

CARRIGAN shifts uncomfortably and glances to the side. Pale goosebumps have risen across her flesh.

Carrigan: You never actually told me what it- what her anomalous properties were.

ELLORY stares at her.

Ellory: Didn't the Foundation tell you?

CARRIGAN looks slightly abashed.

Carrigan: It… wasn't considered essential information for the mission.

ELLORY starts to laugh. The noise echoes back and forth across the endless expanse of water, sounding cold and strange.

Ellory: That place…

She straightens up and pulls herself off the sunlounger, giving CARRIGAN a smile.

Ellory: Well, this has been fun and all, but I guess it's about time I hit the road. Can't sit around here all night yapping. You've got to get your rest, Doctor. Big day tomorrow I imagine.

A bright blue door waiting in the middle of the bow deck. It's hanging slightly ajar and a crack of brilliant white light is spilling through. ELLORY begins to walk towards it.

Ellory: Don't worry, by the way. I won't be making contact again. I have much better things to do with my life these days.

Carrigan: Wait!

ELLORY stops with her hand on the door handle. She waits.

Ellory: Yeah?

Carrigan: Eleanor… Why did you come here? What do you want me to do?

ELLORY looks back at her as she opens the door. The light obscures her expression.

Ellory: Whatever your conscience will allow, Doctor. I suppose that's all any of us can do.

She steps forward into brightness.

Ellory: Sleep tight, Olivia.