Francis— no, Clef was just having a sing-a-long and selling 
brownies, while their money was literally being sucked away by 
anomalous creatures. And the whole time, the potato salad grew 
more and more pungent in odor. 


Weiss, Bailey and Brisby had all gone to the cell to watch through 
glass strong enough to withstand the force from an atomic blast, if 
not the heat. Within it, a D-Class was making their way over to the 
potato salad, and looking perplexed the whole time. 


"You want me to what?" 


"Have a sample of the salad," explained a researcher over the 
intercom. "Just eat a forkful or two." 


...'kay," the D-Class stepped forward and took up a plastic fork, 
noting that it could easily be made into a shiv should he want to 
escape. He probably wouldn't; he liked potato salad. He might just 
eat the whole thing, especially if it had cheese, which it looked like it 
did. 


He dug his fork in. 

Brought it to his mouth. 

Chewed three times. 

And spat it out. "What the fuck?!" 
"What's wrong?" asked the intercom. 


"That's not potato salad, it's got some kind of fish in it!" He looked at 
what he had spat out, seeing red meat- not naturally red, it looked 
like it had been cured. He took another forkful, and sniffed at it. "I 
think it's herring. Yeah, this- this is a buncha red herrings. Very 
funny, guys. Prank the prisoner. Can | go now?" 


Before the sentence was finished, the entirety of Sigma-10 was 
scrambled out to the front gates of the site. Weiss drew her own 
pearl-handled revolver and loaded it with a single beryllium-lead 
slug. 


Sigma-10 broke out of the site, surrounding Clef, the entirety of the 
guests at the bake sale, a large pile of non-consecutive bills, and at 
least a dozen dead crimataphagi— giant, bulbous organisms that 
resembled burlap sacks, mindless in intent. They all looked like they 
had been torn apart by a giant cat, who was gutting one of them and 
watching dollar bills and stock certificates flow out like blood from a 
gutted fish. 


"I'm sorry, but what." Weiss stepped to the front of the task force. 
"GLEF! 


With a strum of a Ukulele, he popped into existence by her, grinning. 


"Had to distract you somehow. Couldn't very well have the 
crimataphagi eating your life's savings." He looked towards the pile 
of crimataphagi that had spilled their contents, and the giant four- 
eyed cat, who gave a wink (blink?) and ran off towards Blasted 
Woods. "That should cover everything." 


Tyler Bailey rubbed his temples. "...please don't tell me this was 
your plan all along." 


"Okay!" Clef turned away from Dr. Bailey, and looked at Jerome 
Brisby, saying in a loud, conspiratorial stage-whisper, "This was my 
plan all along. Don't tell Bailey." 


Weiss, for her part, produced a syringe from her pocket, grabbed 
Clef by the shoulder, and jammed the needle into the largest vein 
she could find. The plunger went down, and a reality-restoring drug 
entered his bloodstream. 


Francis Wojciechoski dropped his ukulele and hat, rubbing his 
shoulder and neck. "...couldn't you have done that earlier?" 


Nina Weiss just tugged at her hair, finding another grey strand; it 
would match her ex-husband's eyes, soon. "Just go back to 19, 
Wojciechoski. Please. Before there's another incident." 


"| swear | did not intend on this to happen." He slouched, removing 
the hat that had been placed on his head. "It just... I'll keep up with 
my medication more frequently from now on, | swear." 


"Yes, sure. Fine." Weiss rubbed her temples. "Thank you for your 
services, but..." 


"But what?" He frowned. "What did | really do? Try to have a little 
fun? Just because I'm me, you assume the worst, that I'm going to 
burn down the site, or take the town off the map. If one of your staff 
had the idea, you'd be laughing it up, but because | just happen to 
be a well-medicated Type-Green from 19, you assume the worst." 


He shook his head and sighed. "But, whatever. I'll just be... heading 
back to 19, | guess. Do what you want with the food." He made his 
way to a car waiting for him in the parking lot. "The recipes are on 


possible that the more violent aspects of SCP-960 
mingled with the earlier ones- future research 
should be conducted to verify whether this is 
possible, or whether Dr. _ was just a particularly 
deranged individual.) 

@ A five-act historical drama about the early stages 
of the American Revolutionary War; places 
emphasis upon onstage violence. Has been 
described as what would happen if Quentin 
Tarantino collaborated with William Shakespeare 
to write a play about American history. 

@ A "lightbulb joke"; researchers with particular 
political leanings have deemed it unfunny. 

@ An explanation of the precise nature of dark 
matter; the validity of this explanation has yet to 
be determined. 


After an undetermined length of time had passed since this last 
dissertation, Dr. | was caught by state law enforcement as he was 
plotting a way to free the inmates of a nearby maximum-security 
prison. Targets of the jailbreak given particular emphasis in the 
scheme included mass murderers [DATA REDACTED], and local 
serial highway sniper [DATA REDACTED]. When Dr. _ refused to 
surrender and attempted to attack one of the officers, he was killed 
at the scene. 


Addendum 960-03: 
¢ Incident 03, 19/04/ 


© The home of the doctor aforementioned was the target 
of a burglary on of the same year, as the loft had 
been vacant for some time. One of the thieves, 
Russian-born , was charged with transportation 
and temporary safekeeping of the fragment, among 
other goods stolen from the building. decided to 
keep the artifact to himself and made his escape from 
the storehouse where it was being kept, according to a 
statement made under interrogation by his accomplice. 
Fresh-looking scratches and chips make it seem that he 
dropped the fragment somewhere along the way, 


the papers next to the pans of food." 


As Wojciechoski's car began driving away, Brisby stood there, 
mystified. "...did we just get chewed out by Alto Clef?" 


"Kinda makes you feel bad for him," Bailey frowned, as the task 
force members began returning into the building. "He'll probably be 
all right." 


"There's a conference in Wichita in September. Career-training 
seminar." Weiss started back into the site. "I'll try talking to him 
there. His reality-bender seminar is usually entertaining." 


Twenty-Three Years Later... 


Nina Weiss wanted nothing more than to have time to herself. She 
had returned to Baltimore for a quiet night, and had decided to do 
what was usually reserved for college students and overworked 
mothers: Order Domino's. 


The knock came at her door, and she looked outside, avoided all 
small-talk with the pimply delivery girl, gave her the payment with tip, 
and withdrew inside. She frowned as she realized she had ordered 
one pizza, but there were two boxes. She opened the smaller one, 
and found, on the inside lid, a note in sharpie: 


Nina- 
REVENGE IS MINE! (EVIL LAUGHTER) 


-Clef 
Nina looked in the box, and saw an unholy hybrid of a chocolate- 
chip cookie and a brownie within it. A sin worthy of a chain pizza 
restaurant. 


Despite all appearances, it went well with plain cheese. 


The Happy Ending 


A possible future... 


The flexi in Jack's suitcase buzzed for the third time. Sighing, he 
pulled it out and unrolled it. As was his usual reaction, he was sorry 
he ever helped invent it. 


The note that popped up was a reminder. "TRANSPORT LEAVING 
T-MINUS 90 MINUTES. PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE." Jack pressed 
his thumb on the indicated spot, rerolled it, and put it back. He'd 
make the ship after his appointment. 


Driving up to the gates of Site 19 still felt damn peculiar. Jack was 
used to the days when getting to Site 19 required two hidden 
tunnels, a parking lot in front of an abandoned hospital, and two 
elevator rides. The dismantling of the Veil Protocol had any number 
of benefits for the Foundation, and far more benefits for humankind 
as a whole. Nevertheless, Jack never could get over the fact that it 
was simply far less cool to answer a receptionist's page and be 
waved through. The parking spot was nicer before, too. 


There was no receptionist when Jack pulled up to the door, not that 
he thought there would be one. He had pushed to have the whole 
system automated, but some piece of legislation required that the 
Foundation hire a certain number of recent high school graduates. 
As it was, Jack had to park at the gate, walk up, and pull the gate 
open himself. 


The drive to the building was uneventful. Jack pulled the car around 
to face towards the gates and put the top down. He brought the 
keycards with him as he went inside the building. 


The halls of Site 19 echoed Jack's footsteps back to him as he 
walked. Every containment chamber he passed was empty; the 
rustling sounds of contained humanoids no longer filled the air. The 


doors were soundproof, but he always seemed to be able to hear 
them. Now, nothing. The building was empty, save three rooms. 
Jack knew his destinations by heart. 


The first containment chamber was three hallways away. Jack could 
hear the little beast two and a half hallways before he reached it. Of 
all the organic nonhumanoid SCPs they had captured over the 
centuries, this one in particular stood out as an unspeakably 
annoying creature. Jack removed the AR-68 helmet from the nearby 
armory and slipped it on, along with one grenade. Walking to the 
containment chamber, he removed his flexipad and began to 
narrate. 


"By order of the United Nations Secretary of Secure Containment, 
that being myself, termination order for SCP-1013 has been issued 
on this day, 25 December 2231, at this time, uh..." Jack checked the 
Clock. "...2243 hours. Termination process begun...now." 


Jack cracked open the containment chamber, pulled the pin on the 
grenade, and threw it in, making sure not to look at the thing inside. 
A single squawk came out. He slammed the door. WHUMP. 


"Termination process complete. SCP-1013 decommissioned. Two 
SCPs remaining." 


Jack's next destination lay three floors down. The elevator ride was 
smooth, just as he remembered. He was glad that some part of this 
was comfortable. 1013 was a legitimate pleasure to get rid of. It was 
one of Clef's last requests, actually; Jack remembered it from the 
wake. This, however, was not going to be pleasant. 


SCP-4321 had been contained for half a century now, and she had 
aged normally during that time. She was sitting on her bed when 
Jack entered the other end of the airlock. 

"Hello, Josephine,” Jack said. 


Josephine sat quietly, chewing on a fifty-pound note. 


"Josephine, it's time. | don't know how well you can understand me, 


but I'm sorry. | brought you a gift." Jack slipped a wrapped package 
of $1000 Treasury notes in through the slot. 


She perked up considerably. Looking up from where she sat, her 
eyes gleamed. She dragged herself across the floor with her hands 
to the airlock and grabbed the notes. Without unwrapping them first, 
she chewed through the plastic to get to the bills. 


Jack began narrating. "SCP-4321, also known as Patient Four in the 
Great Plague of 2182. Patient Zero apprehended, contained, and 
decommissioned 3 May 2183." Jack meant that Patient Zero had 
been drained of his bodily fluids and vivisected in search of a cure. 
They had killed seven patients doing that. Most of them had 
belonged to the terrorist group that had created the virus in the first 
place. Not all of them. And not Josephine. 


Jack had laced the bills with cyanide. He had also tripped the 
morphine gas in her room for this event. She would hardly feel 
anything. She kept chewing monomaniacally. As she slowed down, 
her head winding around dizzily, her eyes half-focused on Jack's. 
"Are...are we..." 


"Yes, Josie. | promise." 


"Are...are we...are we cool yet?" Josie's half-dead eyes pleaded for 
the answer. "Are we cool yet? ARE WE COOL YET?" The 
screeching of her voice was as haunting as ever. Jack's mind 
flashed back to the days, decades ago, when those words were 
being screamed down corridors. 


"Go to sleep, Josie." Jack narrated into the flexipad, "SCP-4321 
decommissioned 25 December 2231, 2258 hours." 


Her eyes faded for the last time. She lay on the ground, a half-eaten 
bill hanging from her mouth. Jack walked away. 


One last stop. The containment chamber was at the bottom of the 
building, making the elevator ride a bit farther than before. He hadn't 
come down this way in a long time, well over a century. Not since 
the Unveiling. Not since the creature he was here for had arrived. 


It used to be kept out of Site 19, back in the old building. One of the 
greatest benefits of the Unveiling was the scientific research that 
came with opening Foundation research to the rest of the world and 
seeing what came back. Since the advancements in containment 
that had come from that, there hadn't been a breach from this 
chamber in decades. The elevator slowed to a stop. 


Jack exited into a well-lit hallway. There was one room on this floor, 
at the far end, with a speaker grate attached to a translation device. 
They had found out some time ago that the beast was always 
talking, often at telepathic wavelengths or ultrasonic pitches. It had 
taken years to work out all of the nuances and process it into audible 
speech, but the result was...interesting. 


"GOOD EVENING DOCTOR BRIGHT," the speaker intoned. 
"WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE TONIGHT." 


Jack cleared his throat. "You're more polite than | recall. That's a 
development." 


"YOU ARE STILL FILTH TO ME," the creature said. "MY TEETH 
STILL ACHE FOR YOUR BLOOD. BUT | AM CONTENT TO WAIT 
FOR THE OPPORTUNITY. THIS IS THE LONGEST | HAVE EVER 
BEEN CONTAINED IN ONE PLACE, AND | MUST SHOW SOME 
RESPECT. | DO NOT EXPECT YOU TO UNDERSTAND, 
DOCTOR." 


"| don't go by Dr. Bright anymore," Jack said. "I'm barely that person 
anymore. We've all moved on. I'm the only one left alive, anyway." 


"THE LIST OF THE DEAD IS LENGTHY, AND | AM RESPONSIBLE 
FOR SO FEW OF THEM. IT IS SORROWFUL. WHAT SHALL | 
CALL YOU THEN." 


"Just Jack," he said. 
"VERY WELL JACK. WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE THIS EVENING." 
"| have a gift. For you." Jack said. "It's time to go." 


"GO?" 


"Go. We're done containing you, and you may leave." 


The beast, so far as it could pull off body language, seemed 
confused. 


"No, I'm serious." 


"YOU ARE A LIAR AND A SOCIOPATH, JACK. YOU HAVE 
KILLED AS MANY OR MORE THAN | HAVE AT LEAST IN THE 
MOST RECENT CENTURIES." 


"That's not me anymore," Jack said uncomfortably. "We've changed. 
The Foundation doesn't exist any more. We don't do those things 
any more." 


"YOU ARE A LIAR EVEN TO YOURSELF. WHY WOULD YOU 
RELEASE ME." 


"Two reasons. First, we live in a remarkable world now. We've 
traveled to star systems far away, spread ourselves out across two 
dozen planets. The Earth is used up, drained as far as possible, so 
we've evacuated the planet. There are less than twenty people left 
here, and as far as | know, they're all sitting on a ship, waiting for 
me. After midnight tonight, this planet will be human-free. You won't 
be a threat anymore. We've even gotten the rest of the SCPs off- 
world. There's no need to keep you here." 


The monster paused. "WHAT IS THE SECOND REASON." 


"It wouldn't have been possible without you." 


"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, JACK." 


"It was a casual containment breach for you. We had trapped you at 
Site 19 temporarily during...some crisis or another, | can't recall 
which. You broke out, killed six that day. And in the course of that, 
you ended up in one containment chamber in particular." 


"JACK | DO NOT RECALL THESE EVENTS—" 


"Getting to that. You broke into 055's containment chamber. We