Command elements then authorized escalation of force to Tier 2 
(Severe Collateral Damage). Aerial bombardment was attempted, 
but failed when the pilots were unable to release their payload over 
the target. It was thus determined that the "psychic field" that 
prevents hostile intent towards Subject may have an infinite range. 
Escalation of force to Tier 3 was considered, but delayed while Dr. 
Gears suggested an alternate strategy with a higher chance to 
retrieve the item intact. 


Hypothesizing that hostile intent was required for the psychic 
controls to trigger, Dr. Gears suggested using Class D Personnel 
under mind control by SCP-061. Previously prepped "sleepwalker" 
agents fitted with surgically implanted earpieces transmitting 
SCP-061 were given the following commands: 


¢ D-061-056 was ordered to give the following commands to the 
rest of the personnel through radio control. D-061-056 was not 
given any indication as to the reason for said commands to 
prevent the psychic defenses from triggering. Agents were 
able to order D-061-056 to give the following orders, 
suggesting that the psychic defense may only be able to 
function through a certain number of iterations (more research 


At least give me some good news. 
"| don't know what will happen to you." Her voice softened. 
How is this a good thing? 


"When you came to me... you told me what you wanted the world to 
know. | didn't know a lot of the details. Even now, | feel foggy on it. 
Up to now, all I've shared was stuff | knew exactly. And recently with 
this one, and the next one, I'm not so sure anymore." 


So you lost control of what's going on, huh. 


"| never had control to begin with. You're just as real as | am, as far 
as I'm concerned." 


But you [REDACTED]. 


"Technically, no. And even then, who cares? Anything that 
affects is just as true." She sighed. It sounded a little bit 
annoyed at me, even. 


|.... | guess? Not that | even want to think of it in those terms. What 
does that mean for me then? 


"You get to make your own ending. | won't have a clue what you 
want to do." 


What do you mean? 


"...I'm saying it's out of my hands now. | think it always was out of 
my hands. | just always felt like the messenger. Using you as my 

vessel, my way to feel out what | want to do and handle. But now 

you can decide, fully and completely on your own.” 


Uh... maybe. Won't it just be the same as usual though? 


“Hey, I’m just letting you speak through me. | have way less to do 
with this than you think.” 


There were walls at what seemed to be the edge of the void. The 
moment it got touched, it started to float away from me. There was 
no way I'd let it slip by me, not at that moment. | had to chase it. 


Can't we at least walk through this slower, more naturally? We're not 
being rushed here. I'd love ten minutes to at least just... process this 
shit. 


"I've already been here for hours trying to continue the conversation. 
Plus, —" 


Yeah, | get it. | don't know though... 


Did you ever struggle with mental illness? 


"Yeah, all the time. Life's a bitch with that." /t was oddly comforting, 
at least. My God, my , nothing more than a similarly confused 
and lost soul. "How did you deal with it?" 


Hah, how funny. | guess _ herself doesn't know my life. The answer 
is; | didn't. Help helps, but it only does so much, you know. Draven 
helped, Dr. Yamada helped, Dr. Glass helped, Mr. Kondraki helped 
in his... own weird way. But help is just help. | think | needed more 
than help but like, actual long-lasting uh... what's the word. 


"Treatment." 
Yeah, that one. 


"Yeah. I've been getting treatment in the past couple years for my 
shit. Mental illness is like... it's death's dynamic shroud." She 
giggled. | didn't get the joke; | didn't bother to ask. "It's something to 
try and conquer a step at a time, you know?" 


Yeah. 


During a break in the conversation, | caught up to the walls. When | 
touched them, they stood still. It was finally a way for me to escape; 
the end of something had to mean the beginning of a new thing, 
right? 


Is this the way out then, O [REDACTED]? 


"I genuinely don't know by this point. | think you'll have to find out." 


| guess. There was a moment's hesitation. What do | do if | manage 
to escape this prison then? I'll still be thrown back into a world with 
all my baggage, and I'm just gonna be suffering in smaller, more 
meaningful ways. 


"| think that's up to you. If | gave any advice, I'd be a hypocrite for 
sure. Just do your best to cope and wish for the best while working 
towards a manageable goal. Strengthen your will. That's how I've 
been dealing with shit." 


Yeah. I'll do my best. 
"Good luck. Go impress me." 


| guess so? Thanks. | just want to know if it's still worth trying 
though. Right? 


Hello? 


| think she left me to my own will after that moment. We'd only talked 
twice, and | think both times were more helpful for her than they 
were for me. But it didn't matter, | think. God. | wonder what Draven 
would have thought of this. He might have actually had an existential 
crisis. 


There was no time to waste though. Admittedly, | was still scared of 
what was waiting for me. | just hoped it was a way out. | really 
needed a way out by this point. It was so long. All | needed was a 


single reward for this absurd bullshit. | was gonna get out. | was 
gonna win this fucking nightmare of a trial. So | pushed the wall. 


And my body shattered. 


Year 2,999,764 


Talloran woke up, bound in quicksand. They were drowning very 
slowly (a rate of 0.05 mm per hour). All the while, the Despised cut 
off their cartilage. It looked more bored than Talloran ever did. 


"Hey, wait, | thought | was finally —" Sand was poured into their 
mouth as It kept slicing away, cut by cut, as their body. 


"This is the first time in... eternities. You've finally shown fear again. 
Do you understand yet, what | am? Why is it do you fight me then? 
Why not simply concede to the truth? Why keep fighting for 
something greater and better?" The Despised's voice was softer and 
more accepting in tone, but still shook with malice for every breath it 
took, and still bled vulgarities with every syllable spoken. 


Talloran tried to respond, but the sand slithered down their throat. 
They'd eternally choke on sand as they took their time to drown. 
Exsanguination, if they ever did die, would be the last thing to kill 
them. 


"Talloran, if | could, | would not be content to simply torture you 
forever. | would make sure you knew death in its permanency, in 
every single worst way. When you tried to end your life the handful 
of times... you figured you could escape. When you tried to leave 


my rule by your own hand... it was as if you thought you knew the 
answers. The Foundation learns from what it contains, but its weak- 
willed employees... those clinging onto the abnormal and the 


fantastical as their identity... that was your way out of reality, wasn't 
it?" 


They could feel the air pocketing in their blood now, as images 
swirled over their head, taunting them with relief. It was all- 
consuming in their vision, and it stung. They swung their arms to the 
side, attempting to crawl out, but the energy simply left them. 


"| hate you. Of all those | hate, none have made me feel as vile as 
you. You are the reason why | exist to do this... and it is abhorrent. 
Talloran, do you understand yet, why | do what | do? It's not simply 
because of your personality, or your will. Do you understand yet? 
When your will sinks again..." The Despised slowly creates a 
shallow cut on Talloran's neck and slithers onto their chest. "That is 
when | truly delight in all of this.” 


Talloran drowned, but not without cause for celebration. It reminded 
them of how they felt eternities ago. To hear an actual corporeal 
thing tell them, instead of it just rattling around in their brain? It 
created a whole new meaning to what was happening. All that had 
to be done, as a wise psychologist once told them, was simply shift 
perspective. 


It was a scary thing, but nothing was more scary than the fact that 
this had been the normal once. And now? When you make it all 
physical... it was pretty wild. Nothing more than that, nothing less. It 
almost made them feel like a badass, even. How proud would 
Draven be if he saw them struggle back, resisting against some 
brutish force? Maybe that was the key. Get out of here, become a 
Mobile Task Force agent? That'd be a refreshing walk in the park. 


It came together. Ahh. How nice. Maybe that Goddess wasn't so 
wrong after all. 


They'll try living like this. 


Talloran concentrated all their energy into one thought: 


"Fuck you." 
Everything was smashed. 


And everything crumbled. 


« The Vampyre of Time and Memory | I'11 Try Living Like This | Like 
Clockwork (Finale) » 
Hub 


...Like Clockwork 


« I'll Try Living Like This | Not everything that goes around comes back 
around, you know. » 


Hub 


This is a story with no endings. There is no closure, nor resolution. It 
is only a story of evolution and expectations. As the author grows, 
as the characters grow, as the readership grows, so too does the 
story and its lasting meaning. 


In every conceivable way, that is the best ending possible. 


Year 2,999,765 


Talloran dragged their dissected body across the world, finding bits 
and pieces that were torn off after they had broken everything. Once 
again, it was a deafening nothing, with only the parts of them in this 
space. It was to be expected. By this point, nothing was worse than 
something. At least here, they had some company; a burnt left pinky 
here, a loose nose there, a fragile rib somewhere else... really, each 
of the body parts more of an actual being than Talloran could claim 
to be now. Nah. They earned the right to be a human being by this 
point. 


Limb by limb and bone by bone, James Ari Talloran clumsily sewed 
it all back together, with nothing more to work with than cloth and 
nails. They were a hideous, revolting mess, but they were at least 
taking form. 


In the vast none, they found the final body part they needed lying a 
few hundred meters away from the right eye; their tongue. Of 
course. 


It had taken days to work up the mental fortitude to put their tongue 
back in, and practice not to gag to death every time an attempt was 
made. After months, it was able to be accomplished. It was a skill 
that they had hoped was only applicable in this fucked up Hell, and 
not in the real world. As if anything like this could even work in the 
real world. That was one point in favor of the real world. 


Exhausted, the shambling body that is Talloran collapsed, and 
dreamed. They dreamed of nothing, a different kind of nothing, one 
full of brightness and possibilities. It was a nice reprieve. There was 
just... so little to do, and yet it was a new form of torture. If they 
didn't do something, anything, this would be their true eternity. 
Damned to be bored to death. Isolated from everyone, even 
themself. That may be the worst of it all. Action had to be taken. So 
they decided to do the thing they were best at doing. 


They waited. They waited and planned out every possibility, hoping 
they wouldn't need to keep being recollected. It was the only thing to 
hope for, now. 


Year 2,999,766 


But it had happened again. 


Year 3,000,002 


And again. 


Year 3,000,044 


And again. 


Year 3,002,093 


The joke was on That Fucker, though. Talloran could wait as long as 
needed be. 


March 5, 2017 


1:20 P.M. 


Talloran and Yamada lounged outside, free from the frantic 
monotony of the day. Considering the hour-long break given to 
them, it was put to surprisingly effective use. 


As the coin tumbled in the air, ascending to the peak of its arc, 
Talloran picked up an end of the tablecloth, Yamada watching with 
keen interest. The plates and mugs moved a minuscule amount, and 
Talloran caught their breath; it was off by a single millimeter. 
Yamada caught on and applied the pressure. 


"If you mess this up, | won't pay for it." Talloran nodded in response. 
They knew exactly what to do. No sweat. As the coin reached its 
peak, they pulled the cloth out from underneath all the tableware, 
and everything shifted a few more millimeters. "Ooh." 


The coin fell. They both held their breath now. 
It bounced off of the edge of her mug. 
"Ooooooh." 

It landed cleanly in her cool coffee. 
"Ooooooooh! You did it!" 


"Hah, | sure did. What side did the coin land on?" Yamada looked in 
the mug at their request, and frowned. They grinned. "Lemme see 
that ten." She sighed, moving to rummage through her purse, 
looking for enough ones to hand them. 


"It's nice that you were this stoked about doing your trick! But | have 
to know; how did you do it?" She dramatically pulled the dollar bills 
out of her purse and waved them in Talloran's face, faux-hypnotizing 
him. "The audience must know how you pulled it off!" They snapped 
the money out of her hands and put it in their pockets, setting the 
cloth back up. It would be bad to just be lazy after all. 


"A magician never reveals her secrets." The way they said it, it was 
clear how much they were enjoying spouting bullshit. "But yeah, like. 
It was a thing | was looking forward to all day so I'm glad | got to 
actually pull that one off. You don't mind if | —" 


is required on this issue). 

¢ D-061-059 through 070 (12 personnel) were ordered to carry 
explosive charges to twelve pre-determined points, opening 
gas mains along the way. Explosives were detonated in 
sequence upon being given the final order by D-061-056. 

* D-061-099, who fit the profile of the Subject's preferred type of 
victim, was ordered to move to a predetermined location at the 
center of the mall to lure the suspect to the best location for 
both ensuring a kill and allowing for easy retrieval of the 
remains. 


Finally, six D-class personnel not under control by SCP-061 were 
ordered to capture the Subject. These Class-D Personnel were not 
expected to complete their mission, and served as a delaying action 
while the mind-controlled operatives carried out their mission. 


The operation was a success: by utilizing multiple personnel, none 
of whom were aware of the significance of their actions, none of the 
personnel knew that their actions were related to terminating the 
Suspect and were thus able to act freely. Suspect's remains were 
retrieved from the rubble by a "bomb defusing" robot and placed ina 
box lined with SCP-148 before being retrieved by Foundation 
personnel. Following confirmation of capture, Command ordered 
Tier 3 (Nuclear Detonation) elements to stand down from Ready-5 
status and declared the incident contained. A cover story blaming 
the attack on terrorists was formulated and disseminated to the 
public. 


Controlled testing has determined that the Suspect's weapon (13 
inch chef's knife) was the active agent in the incident, emitting a 
psionic command that [DATA EXPUNGED]. Suspect's remains are 
to be sentto PD along with a replica knife. The original weapon is 
to be designated a Keter-level SCP (SCP-668) and sent to Site-19 
for further testing. 


How the suspect acquired SCP-668 is unknown at this time. 


It is further noted that the obsessive nature of the Subject's method 
of killing may have contributed to the success of this operation: 

Subject carried out its killings in a ritualistic manner, maximizing the 
amount of horror, pain, and suffering inflicted on its victims. For this