“Herman created that contraption a hundred years before the 
Foundation invented their first Multi-Universal Transit Array. He was 
a genius with the Ways,” Darke reminisced as he both inhaled and 
sipped his beverage. 


“You knew Fuller?” Iris asked, blowing on her hot chocolate. 


“We met in the Library, when | first discovered it late last century... 
sorry, no, the century before last. Most of the other patrons like to 
keep their distance from me, but Herman couldn't resist the 
opportunity to pick my brain. He was ravenous for arcane 
knowledge. He must have read thousands of books on the 
supernatural, spoken with hundreds of otherworldly sages, explored 
countless other realities. To tell the truth, he was so intelligent and 
well learned | suspected he was one of my many unaccounted for 


descendants." 


Darke smirked as he observed Iris trying to hide her revulsion at the 
thought that she might be related to some kind of carnival freak. 


“As a man of means with a fascination for the occult, he was 
obviously a good customer. As a cunning entrepreneur of dubious 
morals, he was a good business partner. If | was feeling generous, | 
would even go so far as to say he was a good friend.” 


“Until he tried to steal from you.” 


“Until he tried to steal from us, yes,” Darke nodded, chuckling at the 
memory. “He actually created a Way into the soul-sucker’s room, 
despite my wards, only to realize it was too big to fit through the 
door! We walked in on him trying to disassemble it. He said he was 
doing a service call, had to make sure the machine was operating at 
tip-top efficiency. Amos was furious.” 


“Understandable, given how reliant he is on that thing.” 


“True, but we were perhaps needlessly cruel to the Circus in the 
years that followed. | regret that, and am glad it’s behind us now. 
Herman Fuller's Circus is a wondrous place Iris, and their 
Kaleidoscope an invaluable resource.” 


“Yes, I’d thought you'd have some ideas on how to capitalize on 
that,” Iris smiled, an avaricious gleam in her eyes. “You must know 
about some hard to get to places worth visiting. Where should we 
send Victor next?” 


“Mr. Chan, even with a Clown at his side, may not be fully adequate 
for what | have in mind,” Darke replied. “I think it would be best for 
my proxy to accompany him. It would be good for you too | think, to 
experience the anomalous ‘in the wild’ as it were, not safely confined 
to our cages. You've mastered your occult studies with me enough 
to handle yourself in the field, and | have foreseen you will come to 
no harm.” 


“I’m not worried about that Grandsire. My only concern would be that 
our agreement with the Circus made it very clear that Victor was to 


be the only one allowed through the Kaleidoscope.” 
Darke only chuckled at the suggestion. 


“The Man with the Upside-Down Face may seem intimidating to an 
undersized Chinaman or an incontinent old dotard, but even he 
trembles at the mention of the name ‘Darke’. Give them a ring and 
tell them that the Heir of Percival Darke will be accompanying Mr. 
Chan on his outings from now on, and see if old Manny voices any 
objections. Come, let us see if we can find someplace appropriate to 
wet your feet.” 


He arose from his chair and gestured for her to follow him. They 
entered into his map room, which had numerous decorative maps 
framed upon the walls. Globes of various worlds rotated in perpetual 
motion above their pedestals, and the long shelves held 
innumerable scrolls and atlases. This was a room from which a man 
from before the Age of Reason could navigate the Multiverse. 


"You know, if you would let us digitize this information | could make 
an app that could let us plot Ways on a smartphone," Iris suggested, 
still drinking her cocoa. 


"Truth contained in the Chaos Tongue cannot be properly 
represented by any other language, including the binary language of 
computers," Darke replied. "Besides, the information contained in 
this room is far too priceless to risk leaking out onto that vile 
noospheric web of yours." 


He began to pull down various antique maps until he found the one 
he wanted. It was a map of the ‘Yesod’ multiverse, one of many 
such multiverses, depicted as a tree. It had twenty-one main 
boughs, representing the known hubs, each with dozens if not 
hundreds of branches. The ‘floater’ universes were depicted as stray 
leaves. The roots of the Cosmic Tree reached down into the 
Darkness Below (which Iris knew was not the same as the Darkness 
Between Dimensions, but still wished they had more distinct names) 
where they were attacked by the imprisoned Scarlet King. The tree 
was simultaneously threatened by Yaldabaoth from the Heavens, 
though He was contained in Mekhane’s silver web. 


Iris knew such a map was neither literal nor accurate, but it was a 
charming piece of esoterica nonetheless. 


“Let’s see. The Realm of the Unclean has His Holy Tears and some 
advanced technology...but it also has the Unclean. Maybe we'll 
work our way up to that one. There is that Antarctic Empire...but the 
Foundation does have a fairly strong presence there. No, to make 
the best use of the Kaleidoscope we should go to a World we could 
never get to otherwise. Ah! Kul-Manas!” 


“Kul-Manas?” 


“Yes, it’s a charming little city-state in a delightful floater universe. 
Populated mostly by mystic bird people. I’ve met one of them on my 
sojourns to the Court of Alagadda. He seemed to be a man of some 
standing among his people. I'll pen him a letter, see if maybe his 
World would be interested in establishing trade relations." 


"What would they have to trade?" 


"The Feathered Folk collect knowledge and technology from across 
all the worlds and cobble it together in a way that is uniquely their 
own. Their magic and technology are not only advanced but exotic. | 
know of nothing better for generating short-term profit than novelty. 
You may head back to London now if you wish. I'll see to this, but do 
not forget to check your letterbox. | don’t want another incident like 
the one with the Eidolonic Collective.” 


“| was as embarrassed about that as you were, Grandsire,” Iris said, 
resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Anything | should do to prepare 
for the assignment?” 


Darke clapped twice, and his diminutive servant appeared and 
presented a book to Iris while relieving her of her mug. The book's 
title was Otherworld Laws and Universal Constants. 


“That should prove a sufficient primer for now. If | think of anything 
else | will send it to you.” 


Iris nodded, already starting to read the book as she showed herself 
out. 


Darke glided back to his study and grabbed a quill and parchment. 
Before he started writing, a small objet d’art that he had paid no 
attention to in years suddenly caught his eye. 


It was a marionette, a souvenir from when he had attended the 
grand opening of Herman Fuller’s Marvellously Macabre Mechanical 
Marionette Matinee. Fuller always did put on one hell of a show. 


Darke knew what had become of Fuller, what his own Circus had 
done to him. He had foreseen it long ago. Still, the fact that it had 
only recently transpired did give it a bit of a sting. For a moment, 
Darke wondered if he should do something. He wondered if he 
should free Herman from his living hell, help him to retake the 
Circus, and exact revenge on those who had betrayed him. 


Then he considered the cost. 


Pushing the marionette out of sight, he set to work on his letter to 
Kul-Manas. 


« There Are No Strings On Me | Dread & Circuses Hub | A Scip 
Or A Star? » 


A Scip Or A Star? 


« So They Called Him Darke | Dread & Circuses Hub | Dark And 
Disquieting » 


Tears streaming down her face, and her heart throbbing in her ears, 
Lexi raced down the darkened allies, pushing her body as hard as 
she could. She had no goal other than escape, and her flight had 
taken her into a decaying and dangerous part of the city. It wasn’t 
safe here, she knew that, but there was at least a chance she could 
be safe from them. 


She pushed on the door to an old, abandoned office building. To her 
relief, no one cared enough about the eyesore to lock it up. Closing 
and barricading every door behind her, she climbed to the top floor 
and shut herself into what might have been a conference room half 
a century ago. 


Exhausted, she plopped to the floor. Hugging her knees to her 
chest, she wept at the hopelessness of her situation. Her pursuers 
would have drones, thermal vision, all the best toys. They didn’t 
believe in giving their prey a sporting chance. She couldn't hide here 
forever. Hell, she probably couldn’t even hide for the rest of the 
night. 


Come sunup, she’d be in their custody. They’d lock her up, 
experiment on her, torture her, kill her, maybe use her as a weapon, 
she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she would never see anyone 
she cared about again, never live the life she wanted, never again 
be free. 


All because she was an anomaly. 
“It’s not fair. It’s not fair,” she sobbed bitterly to herself. 


“| know exactly how you feel.” 


rodents under any circumstances. Further testing on SCP-625 
requires authorization from Dr. MacGregor (4-625/1515/21 14/4123). 
Further, any specimen of SCP-625 that has consumed human flesh 
on more than one occasion must be terminated. The body may be 
disposed of in Site 19's incinerator. 


Description: Instances of SCP-625 are nocturnal organisms 
composed primarily of distinct sections from no less than seven 
different species of Rodentia. They range between 20 and 30 cm in 
length and, when unfed, weigh between 2.0 and 2.5 kg. When left 
alone, SCP-625 specimens do not exhibit unusual behavior. They 
engage in attempts at reproduction, but appear to be infertile. It is 
unclear whether this is an effect of being kept in captivity or whether 
specimens of SCP-625 in the wild are also infertile. [DATA 
EXPUNGED]. SCP-625 specimens are omnivorous, and have 
metabolic requirements comparable to those of other rodents their 
size. Specimens do not necessarily have a body plan conforming to 
that of non-anomalous rodents — instances have been located that 
do not possess bilateral symmetry, as have instances that possess 
an abnormal number/arrangement of limbs. 


All instances have extremely sensitive eyes and ears and have two 
claws between 12 and 16 cm in length on each foreleg. SCP-625 
specimens are capable of using these claws for rudimentary 
manipulation. SCP-625 has been observed licking its claws 
frequently; analysis of SCP-625's saliva has revealed the presence 
of a powerful local anesthetic, which is produced by a specialized 
gland located in each specimen's body.! SCP-625 specimens will 
sharpen their claws whenever possible, resulting in an edge that is 
capable of cutting through flesh and most clothing materials. 


Each instance of SCP-625 appears to have a unique composition, 
with tissue from any individual species comprising no more than 
30% of the specimen's total mass. Separate sections are joined 
together seamlessly on a cellular level (although there is no mixing). 
Despite being composed of biologically incompatible tissues, no 
allergic reactions or other health issues have been noted. SCP-625 
is capable of surviving the majority of its bones being crushed and 
the removal of significant quantities of flesh without significant 
impairment for up to forty-five minutes; the reason for this is unclear. 


Lexi screamed at the sound of the stranger’s voice. She kicked 
herself into a corner for defence, her eyes rapidly scanning the room 
for the intruder. She saw that the voice belonged to a large man, 
standing aloofly inside one of the bay windows. 


Like Peter Pan. 


“It’s alright kid, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, gently stepping 
down to the floor. His clothes were oddly old-fashioned, like 
something from the turn of the twentieth century, not something any 
of her pursuers were likely to wear. 


Also, his face was upside-down. That was probably important too. 
“Who are you?” Lexi asked between panicked breaths. 


“Call me Manny,” the Man with the Upside-Down Face replied with a 
slight tip of his hat. His cordial demeanor calmed Lexi down just 
enough for her to realize that it was anatomically impossible for 
someone to survive with an upside-down face. 


“You're...you’re anomalous?” she asked. 


“Now why would such a nice young girl use so joyless and clinical a 
term when there are a plethora of far more colourful descriptors for a 
Freak such as myself?” Manny asked. 


“That's what we’re called, isn’t it? That’s what | read online anyway. 
That’s how they found me, | think. | googled the wrong words one 
time too many and | got flagged. | was stupid, thinking incognito 
mode would protect me from anything! They’ve been spying on me 
for days, at least. They were waiting until | was home alone to take 
me, but | climbed out my window into a tree and into the neighbour's 
yard then ran like hell. | don’t know if | lost them or not, but even if | 
did they'll just find me again.” 


“Not if you’re somewhere that can’t be found,” the Man with the 
Upside-Down Face said with a frown smile. Lexi looked up at him, 
trying to temper her hope with skepticism. 


“What are you even doing here?” 


“Scouting for talent, which does tend to take me to some odd places. 
You know about the Serpent’s Hand, right?” 


“Some of the people | spoke with online said they were Serpent’s 
Hand,” she nodded. 


“Well, | have some contacts in the Serpent’s Hand who watch the 
watchers. They let me know when some poor Freak is about to be 
snatched away from their home and family and locked away for the 
rest of their lives for having sparkly eyes. If | can, | get to them first, 
and | offer them something better.” 


“What?” 
“Ever heard of Herman Fuller's Circus of the Disquieting? 


“A circus!” Lexi scoffed. “How is that any better? How is being a 
sideshow freak any better than being in Area 51?” 


“For starters, I’m not going to force you to come, or force you to 
stay. You'll be free. The Circus is a sanctuary, run for Freaks by 
Freaks. Sure, your sleeping compartment will be smaller than one of 
their containment cells, but we’re not going to lock you in there. 
When you’re not performing or training you can do as you please. 
No testing, no termination, no fighting someone else’s war. You'll be 
free, you'll be safe, and if you give it a shot you might even be 
happy.” 


“How can a circus possibly be safe, especially from them? What’s 
stopping them from finding you?” 


“All our shows are one day only. No one sees us arrive, and no one 
sees us leave. The bedazzling lights shield us from unfriendly eyes 
while drawing in eager customers by the thousands! Music and spun 
sugar fogs their minds so that any wonders they behold seem 
nought more than a dream or illusion. If any of the powers that be do 
get a whiff of us and try to shut us down, | always know, and we 
vanish before they can even reach the ticket booth. I’ve been doing 
this for a long time Lexi, longer than they’ve been around even. No 
one’s caught old Manny yet.” 


She squinted up at him discerningly, trying to decide if there was 
any truth to what he was 
saying. 


“If | did join this Circus, I’d be a performer? I’d be an anomalous 
act?” 


“There’s that word again. You know why they call us anomalous? 
Because they don’t want us to think we’re special. They give you a 
number, call you ‘it’, and describe your magical, miraculous 
endowments as if they were taking your blood pressure. And they 
take special care never to call our gifts ‘powers’ lest we start thinking 
of ourselves as superheroes. 

“So tell me Lexi, what’s your power?”