The site, along with all others, had been notified two days prior of 
the event where six humanoids escaped from containment, 
temporarily overpowered a Foundation Al, carved a hole in the 
panopticon, stole a van, torched a motorpool, and were currently of 
unknown whereabouts. Like most of the other sites that received this 
message, Site-08 did not pay this significant mind. It was located in 
the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, far away from any sort of outside 
trouble. Its staff were a dozy, phlegmatic bunch, content to live out 
their careers in the northern mid-Atlantic, making sure that all the D- 
class and robotic units made it up to orbit in once piece, and from 
orbit to Thoth Station or the Lagranges, and then back home again. 


This was life at Area-08, at least until someone crashed a boat into 


the small, desolate island’s loading dock. 


Site directors are by nature reclusive creatures. They rarely interact 
with others of their kind, outside of the safe, controlled environments 
of monthly regional report commissions. When presented with their 
kin, they become skittish, as they are trained from birth to correlate 
the presence of other directors with imminent disaster. 


This avoidance of others of the species has long concerned 
administrators the world over. As the creatures refuse to stay around 
each other long enough to reproduce, the species might go extinct 
within the next twenty years. 


Now there were twenty-six of them in the same conference call, 
each one steeled for the twin threats of a major containment breach 
and peer interaction, though willing to hold back on the barbed 
insults about performance. Two starred names sat on top of the 
conference client’s user list. 


yx OVERSEER-O5-4 
yx OVERSEER-O5-9 


A blip on the end of a dotted line, well outside the arcs of the orbiting 
missile platforms, was the topic of discussion today. 


Director Kettering: All told, there are thirty-two personnel 
wounded, eight dead. Most of those hospitalized were 
the targets of a cognitohazard similar to the ones used 
during the initial breach at Site-15. Collateral and digital 
damage isn’t anything we can’t patch up with a little time, 
but replacing the Hamill will take a significant amount of 
resources. In addition, we are going to have to overhaul 
the security for shuttle access - they were able to bypass 
digital and physical failsafes. 


Director Eman: Are you sure it can’t be recovered? We 


could easily allow them to pass through the 
BARGAVASTRA network and retake the vessel. 


Director Kittering: It wouldn’t be able to survive re-entry 
in the first place, after the drone attack, and from their 
current trajectory it looks like they are attempting a 
slingshot orbit. 


Director Eman: Ah. Right. I’m sorry. 
Director Factor: Could we intercept them? 


Director Kittering: No. The Herbert is currently at 
FORC-03, and the Heinlein is currently being retrofit at 
Thoth Station. 


Director Hazelwood: Given what we gathered in 
interviews from SCP-2085 and associates, it is most 
likely that they are aiming towards SCP-2722. 


Director Pickman: And they will be able to make the 
journey? 


Director Kittering: The Hamill was fully supplied when it 
was hijacked, and the drones were not able to damage it 
enough to prevent space travel. 


Director Van Graph: I’m watching the footage of the 
break-in right now. You guys had a soundstage set up 
for Mars? 


Director Kittering: Pet project. 
Director Van Graph: Pity they shot it all up. 
Director Kittering: We can build it again. 


Director Boll: Has a warning message been sent to the 
Solidarity? 


Director Kittering: It has. However, that poses another 
issue. As | said in the briefing, FORC-04 and SCP-2722 


have been operated by a skeleton crew for the last 
eighteen months, after the accidental re-activation of the 
ship’s automated janitorial system. At the moment there 
are a total of ten research staff on the station, and then 
forty-two D-class and sixteen security personnel on the 
ship proper. 


Director Kinsey: Considering the state of affairs on 2722, 
the issue is solved. They will board, and be eaten alive 
by overzealous cleaning products. 


Director Yonn: | doubt it, considering their luck. 


Director Brand: It should be possible to recover the 
Hamill if this is the case. 


Director Tortend: Kinsey has a point, however. The 
Solidarity is a dead end. They'll board, and be stuck 
there. We could easily contain them there on the ship. 


Director Kittering: That is a possibility. The ship has 
shown no signs of active functionally. 


Director May: If | might interrupt with an obliquely-related 
question - Why did they call themselves the Black Rabbit 
Company? They’re all cats. 


Director Kittering: | believe it was a folkloric reference —a 
rabbit in the moon, instead of an old man, but I’m not 
entirely sure. 


Director May: Ah. 


Direction Kittering: With all that in mind, | think the matter 
now is to determine what can be done with SCP-2085 
and associates contained aboard the Solidarity. | am of 
the opinion that- 


yx OVERSEER-O5-4: We have made a judgment. 


Director Kittering: Oh. Quite right. Yes, Overseer? 


yx OVERSEER-O5-9: We have judged that this matter be 
held under direct Overwatch guidance. 


yx OVERSEER-O5-4: We will oversee the situation. You 
will be informed of changes as they occur, as according 
to what information might be freely distributed. 


yx OVERSEER-O5-9: Go about your business. 
yx OVERSEER-O5-4: The matter is in our hands. 


yx OVERSEER-O5-9: This meeting is adjourned. 


Hana looked at the nightside of Earth far below her. Spiderwebs of 
gold outlined continents. Lightning flashed in cloudbanks. People 
were sleeping, mostly. People were doing everything, down below. 
Everything they had ever done. Even while sitting on top of a 
nuclear fusion engine hurtling through the void at speeds that would 
eventually peak in the hundreds of thousands of miles an hour, 
Hana felt that she might not be moving at all. 


She felt as if she wanted to cry, just from the sight of the Earth down 
there, just from how beautiful it was, but she couldn’t. Her heart felt 
filled up with heavy, stagnant blood. Feelings of mud, all drains 
blocked. This should be a happy ending, but it wasn’t really happy, 
nor did it feel like an ending. It wasn’t a beginning either. There was 
just a stopping, and now there was just open space, and she was 
free-floating around in it, without a place to go. 


” 


“So...| guess we did it,” she said, mostly to herself. “We’re in space. 


“It’s very black,” Tomi drawled from her spot on the module ceiling. 
Her silver-blue hair had formed a halo around her head. Her 
shoulder was bound up in gauze and medical tape. 


“Har har.” 


“Far too open. Horribly designed.” Tomi scratched at her face. 
“Better than down there, though. Too crowded, too disorganized.” 


Hana plucked away the layers of her sister’s words. Tomi was, as 
usual, drifting along for the ride. The sister in the inner tube being 
pulled behind the boat. Not particularly worried, not particularly 
excited. Present to all the possibilities but not latching on to any 
individual outcome. 


“I’m worried about Wizard,” Hana said. She knew Tomi could easily 
read that on her face, but for propriety’s sake, she said it out loud. 
For the moment, no one else was in this particular module. Momoko 
and Nanami were piloting, Boss was in the back, and Wizard was 
stowed away in one of the sleeping modules. He’d passed out 
before they’d even gotten out of orbit, and Nanami had been forced 
to wrestle him into the sleeping bag. 


Tomi shrugged. Her hair rippled. 


“| know. If it happens, we do what he says. We put two in his head, 
shove him out the airlock and into the sun. Momoko plays ‘Amazing 
Grace’ on the bagpipes, and we keep going.” 


Wizard had been very insistent on that last part. Hana didn’t know if 
Momoko could actually play the bagpipes, but it was reasonable to 
assume that she would give it a try. 


“Don’t worry too much,” Tomi continued. “We'll get through it. We 
always do.” 


There was some quiet for a moment. Boss drifted past them, sipping 
at a bag of juice. She waved at them. 


Wizard dreamt. 


He floated through tight, airless chambers. Cut, not carved, into the 
grey and dusty rock, lit by hazy, dim light. In the center of each wall 


was a circle of smooth, dark metal, which pulled away like a lens as 
he passed. He was drifting in a straight line, unable to go left or 
right. 


The enemy’s gate is down. 


He might have being travelling up, or forward, but it felt down. He 
defined it as down, and so down it was. 


There was no noise, save his breathing. No noise at all. The walls 
pressed in around him, and the rooms felt as if they were shrinking 
as he passed through them. How many now, closing in? Would they 
stop, or just keep getting smaller until he was trapped inside? 


A lens opened, and there was no next room. If there were walls, 
they were beyond what Wizard was able to see in the dim light. 
Hundreds, thousand of miles of empty, open space. 


Below him, so far below, was a field of deep red, upon which were 
two concentric circles of black, with three arrows pointing inwards, 
towards a vast golden goat’s eye. It swiveled in its socket and 
focused upon him. 


A great and terrible voice echoed in his head, without words, and 
sang of the consuming gulf of nothing. 


He could feel his entire body joining in refrain. 


“Easy there, easy there... You okay?” Boss guided Wizard out of the 
sleeping module. 


“Yeah. Yeah, | think I’m good.” Wizard grabbed onto a wall handle to 
steady himself. His grey, gawkish face looked more hollow and 
sickly than usual. 


“Red again?” 


“Yeah.” 

Boss patted him on the shoulder. 

“I’m here as long as you need me,” she said. 
“| Know.” 


“Just in case you were having one of your ‘I don’t want to be a 
burden’ moments. Because you aren't, and you don’t owe me 
anything. I'll be here.” 


Wizard chuckled weakly. 
“| don’t know how you do it.” 


“You’re my little bro. There’s no how to it.” She grinned. “Might as 
well ask a fish how it swims.” 


Wizard nodded his head, but didn’t say anything else. Excited 
shouts could be heard from the other passenger module, over the 
ever-present hum of machinery. 


“You know,” Wizard said. “I can’t actually remember which one of us 
came up with the spaceship idea.” 


“You did.” 


“No, I’m sure it was you. | didn’t even have the space wizard shtick 
until after we came up with the plan.” 


“Huh...| guess we'll split it down the middle and call it even.” Boss 
made a chopping motion with her hand. 


“Fair enough.” 


Boss somersaulted and pushed off the floor, towards the other 
module. 


“The girls have some Halo up and running up here, if you want to 
jump in,” she said. “Going to be a long trip.” 


behavior. 


Incident 944-U-1: Date: / /201 , a 53-year-old male, 
emerged from the maze, claiming to have been lost in the 
maintenance tunnels for three days. SCP-944 does not contain 
maintenance tunnels. Subject treated for dehydration and released. 
Park security assumed individual was intoxicated and details of 
incident were imaginary. 


Incident 944-U-2: Date: / /201 , a 12-year-old boy, found 
severely injured in maze Hallway B, with third-degree burns to 
hands and feet. Subject claimed to have been detained in a 
windowless brick room for approximately seven hours, by an 
individual calling himself “Zippo the Pyromaniac Clown,” who burned 
and [DATA EXPUNGED] the victim. Victim recalls being told “It’s all 
part of the show, kid.” 


SCP-944 does not contain the area described by the victim. 
Extensive police search for perpetrator yielded no results. 


Incident 944-U-3: Date: / /201 , 24-year-old female, 
emerged from maze 101.6 cm (3’ 4’) tall after pausing before a 
“shrinking mirror” in the maze’s “Hall of Fun.” Subject was 175 cm 
(5’ 9”) on entering maze. 


Foundation personnel intercepted police report of this incident. Area 
secured; Class-B amnestics administered. SCP status established 
and containment initiated. Additional investigation revealed that 
individuals are missing after entering SCP-944. 


Addendum: Post-Containment Experimentation 


Use of robot drones to navigate SCP-944 does not appear to trigger 
anomalous effects. Therefore, use of D-Class personnel in 
experiments is approved. 


Experiment 944-C-1: Date: //201 Subject D-12154 allowed to 
walk randomly through SCP-944. Subject observed to walk through 
Mirror 22, Hallway C and disappear. GPS tracking indicated 
D-12154 was 700 miles away, in , . Subject recaptured, and 
claimed to have walked out of a mirror in the Hotel ballroom. 


Day 2 


Six marbles of brandy floated around the heads of the Black Rabbit 
Company. 


“As according to the Company Charter, the first round of drinks after 
a successful job are to be taken in memory of all of our sisters,” 
Boss said. 


“Aye,” the others echoed solemnly. 


“| know we're at a midway point, but | don’t think we’re going to have 
much downtime after all this. Let’s make it count for them, guys.” 


“And let all our bastard dads rot in hell,” Nanami said. 
“Amen, sister.” Momoko nodded. 

They simultaneously slurped down the spheres of booze. 
Day 5 


Tomi filed her nails with a whetstone as she ran on the treadmill. 
Behind her, Momoko lifted weights on the Resistive Exercise 
Device. 


“Momoko, | have an apology to make.” 
“What’s up?” 
“| touched Big Richard’s butt.” 


Momoko let go of the bar and twisted around. Tomi kept walking and 
filing her nails. 


“You what.” 
“Touched him right on the butt.” 


“You what.” Her ears went flat. 


“I touched his butt, and then gave him a polish and a kiss.” 


Momoko’s scowl would have curdled milk, coagulated gravy, and 
boiled vinegar, if it was actually threatening. It wasn’t, so the result 
was just oddly endearing. 


“Is that how we’re playing? Really?” She crossed her arms. “Then | 
guess I’m going to call Sam up and ask him out.” 


“You wouldn't.” 


Momoko held up a fist, extended her thumb and pinky, and 
pretended to dial a number on it. 


“Don’t you dare.” 


“Beep boop bop boop” Momoko held her hand up to her ear. “Ring 
ring, ring ring — Hey! Sam! So since Tomi is a lying, backstabbing, 
butt-touching cheater, | was wondering if you wanted to go out for a 
night on the town. | hear the shooting range just got remodeled. 
What's that? Of course Harry can come along!” 


Tomi swiped and snarled at Momoko. This was completely 
ineffectual due to the fact that she was still strapped in the treadmill 
harness, and after a few swings she hung her head and sighed. 
Momoko snrked, which devolved into a hearty belly laugh. Tomi, still 
pacing on the treadmill, joined with her flat, stone-skipping chuckle. 


“There’s probably something wrong with us,” Tomi said. 


Momoko pressed a finger to her chin, and looked thoughtfully at a 
vague spot above her head. 


“Nope, not seeing it.” 
Day 9 
[Boss: OOC what was this guy’s deal again?] 


[Hana: Alright, it’s the snake’s turn. What’s your AC, 
Nanami?] 


[Nanami: Thirteen] 

[Tomi: Crazy professor made a snake in the basement] 
[Hana: Okay...twenty.] 

[Nanami: Shit.] 

[Hana: Rolling to confirm...twenty.] 

[Hana: That’s a grand total of...thirty-six damage.] 
[Nanami: Fuuuuuuuuuck.] 

[Wizard: o] 

[Wizard: uch] 

[Wizard: | hate using a keyboard for this.] 

[Tomi: pat pat 

[Hana: You can make a save against death.] 
[Nanami: Na, fuck it. I'll make someone new.] 
[Momoko: Hahahahahaha] 


[Hana: Okay. You all see Nanami get bisected by the 
snake. Blood and organs fly everywhere.] 


[Nanami: The rigor mortis sets in and my corpse flips all 
of you off.] 


Day 11