"It's called Nalka!" Hubble snapped. "This is why | hate the 
Foundation. Theophobic pricks." The back of his robes split open, 
and revealed a dozen more tendrils extending from beneath. "I'll 
deal with them. Carter, | know you get squeamish. Why don't you go 
to the Black Garden?" 


"You heard the man," Mayor Clive Carter grinned, barely concealing 
his disgust at Hubble. "Gideon, Allen, what do you say?" 


"I'm more than happy to let the flesh-crafter do his work alone." 
Gideon began to depart. "Mavra, return to your place of binding." 


"Yes, lord." The Black Autumn hissed, and vanished in a cold, 
autumn breeze. 


Hubble looked at the pair of them, and lowered his hood, revealing a 
single, gigantic eye in the middle of his forehead. 


Ruby and Blake drew their combat knives, and took low stances 
before the monstrosity. 


Seren Pryce had heard of it before, during her time at Site-36, 
before a crazed HI agent had torn through the place in an attempt to 
save his wife and child. Kid survived, wife had been given a medal. 
That's all she needed to know. 


A few people at 36 had told stories about a fairground in the 
Midwest, overgrown by pumpkins, where horrible things happened 
every fall. Children walked in, never left. People's heads were 
replaced by gourds. Agents disappeared into cornstalks. The site 
director had once cut themselves and started bleeding pumpkin pulp 
until he died. 


It was in town. It had always been in town, and because the 
Foundation was a broken bureaucratic machine, they hadn't know 
about it until now. It was— 


"Pryce!" February jostled her. "C'mon! T-the... the basement. You 
gotta— come on!" 


"Wha— basement? What about it?" She looked at her fellow agent 


like he was crazy. 


"Just— c'mon!" He dragged her down. She dropped her scope and 
let it roll along the ground. 


The two Foundation agents would die before they were even born. 
Hubble bore down on them, with Ruby and Blake pinned to opposite 
walls by fleshy tendrils coming from what had once been arms. 
Blake realized that this was all they were: pinned. Not suffocating, 
not constricted. Just pinned, immobile. 


Soon, the sound of a car's engine faded away. Hubble sighed, and 
the tendrils relaxed, and then retreated into the body of the cultist. 
The monster groaned, and looked at the twins. "Let me begin by 
saying that immortality is grossly overrated." 


Ruby responded by slashing at his throat with her combat knife, 
letting out a scream of uncontained rage. 


The cultist's singular eye rolled, and he quickly re-placed his head 
on his neck. "As are these various... mutations." He stood up, 
catching Blake's knife between his fingers as the brother swung. "I 
found lon's word when | was dying of lung cancer. | left lon for 
Mavra, and... I've been in a state of waffling for some time." He let 
his tendrils drop, bending Blake's knife in two. "I still graft myself 
from time to time with new... appendages. But they ache." He shook 
his head. "| met my wife here. | have two children. And I... | don't 
want this anymore." 


"ONE!" Ruby yelled. "You fucking sacrificed your daughter!" 


"| am a carnomancer!" Hubble snapped. "| can make a homunculus 
that can memorize Hamlet out of steaks from Woolworths! I..." He 
rubbed his face with a normal looking hand. "Gideon. He demanded 
Eliza. My daughter. | couldn't. He's been crossing so many lines, 
and this was the ultimate one. I... | made one to look like her, sound 
like her. That's what Mavra killed. That's what they ate." 


"...you're a Sarkic cultist with two kids." Blake frowned. "Somehow, | 
don't buy it." 


"We may look odd to you, but | assure you, we're human, and our... 
physical faculties are intact." He sighed. "My wife. She knows about 
my oddities, thinks I'm going to get them removed soon. And | am. 
With some help." 


"From who?" Ruby frowned. 


"I'm afraid my benefactors prefer to remain anonymous. But before 
you ask: no. They're not your Foundation, nor are they the splinter 
Insurgency." Hubble extended his tendrils. "My benefactors and | will 
bind Mavra in two parts. What passes for her physical form has 
been contained in—" 


"A giant pumpkin?" Ruby hazarded. 


"Indeed. We're binding her mind in a Masonic seal in the Pyramid 
Inn. If both are sealed, and left intact, then neither can break free." 


"Well, she did!" Blake snapped. "How do you explain that?" 


"That may be a failing on my part. Gourdon is resilient, but even 
then, itis simply a plant. A blight of crops, a puncture in the shell... it 
could be anything." The Carnomancer slithered over to a door and 
opened it, revealing a set of stairs leading down. "Please, if you 
would." 


The twins felt they didn't have much choice, and began descending 
into the basement. It was a dark place, empty, wet. Ruby drew her 
knife again. "So, your pumpkin died, and now we have to clean it up 
forty-eight years from now?" 


"I'm afraid it seems that way." Hubble sighed. "As part of my 
agreement with my benefactors, I'm to... well, deal with you. They 
told me to look for a pair of time-traveling twins at this place, on this 
date. Once this is done... my healing can begin." 


"Hell no!" Ruby took her sparring pose again. "If you're gonna kill us, 
I'm going to make sure you can't have any more kids before you do." 


"Hold it, hold it. Nobody's dying. You're just going to take the long 
route home." Hubble's tendrils shook and began oozing a golden 
sap, which fell at the twin's feet. "You were taken here by a simple 


wrinkle in time; your souls interacted with the reality here, and you 
were brought into the fold by a cosmic mistake. You deserve... well, 
you deserve to go home." 


"Sarkic Amber? Seriously?" the Williams brother's lip twisted, and he 
pulled his feet away from it. "|— hold on. The Foundation still shows 
up at the Fairgrounds on the 31st. We have photographic evidence." 


"Yeah," Ruby agreed. "We need a phone." 


"No. If the your organization needs any information that will prevent 
a paradox, my benefactors will see to it." 


"Okay, who the fuck are these benefactors?" Ruby demanded, her 
shoes becoming stuck in the amber as it creeped up her body. 
"There aren't any major players that deal with temporal paradoxes or 
timelines or any of that shit." 


"Not yet," Hubble replied, as if it was obvious. The twins tried to 
object, but the sap covered their mouths. They couldn't move, 
couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. After a while, they just stopped 
thinking. 


Seren sighed as she looked over the pillars of amber that contained 
her squadmates. "Ruby once told me that she and her brother 
watched Jurassic Park religiously when they were kids. Dressed up 
as the annoying brats from the film." 


"And now, they're playing the most important characters. The 
mosquitos." Ewell frowned and approached the amber that 
contained Ruby. "Now, how do we get these—" 


The amber began to melt as Ewell approached, like a sculpture 
made of ice cream on the summer solstice. The pillar disgorged the 
Williams sister, who fell to the floor, gasping. "Nhhh. Nnnnhhh. 
Mhhhh." 


"Ruby?" February took out a flashlight and turned it on. He shined it 
into her eyes, and when her pupils contracted— 


"MOTHERFUCKER!" She suddenly sat upright, clutching her eyes. 


"Shit, sorry. Can't see anything, now." 


"Hibernation sickness. You're okay, hold on." Seren had approached 
Blake's pod in the meantime, and was slowly pulling him out of the 


goop. 


"| suppose them taking a shower is out of the question?" Blake 
asked. 


"Yes, it is. The Foundation's been looking for samples of this stuff for 
decades." February scooped some off of Ruby and into a jar. 


Blake sat up, and gagged as he swallowed some of the sap. "Oh 
fucking god. That tastes like rotten honey." 


"Honey can't rot." Ewell frowned. 


"That... really doesn't make me feel better." Blake stood up. "Fuck. 
Is this gonna harden again?" 


"Hard to say with Sarkic magic." February sighed. "There are going 
to be a lot of questions. For everyone." 


"...Hubble said that there were... benefactors he was working with." 
Ruby started to stand. "They'd make him normal again. And they 
had foreknowledge enough to know we'd be coming." 


"That..." Ewell shuddered. "This town's freaky enough right now. 
Let's leave that to Delta-t or whoever the hell handles temporal 
anomalies nowadays." 


"We know what it is," Ruby, Seren, and Blake all spoke at the same 
time. 


Seren spoke alone, "097. The fairgrounds with the giant pumpkin in 
the center. It lures children in, eats them, centered around 
Halloween..." 


"It fits," February agreed. "Partridge came to the same conclusion a 
while ago. I'm... gonna go radio for pickup." 


"You do that," Blake winced, blinking his eyes. "Hey." 


"What?" Ruby asked. 
"It is the Great Pumpkin, Ruby Brown." 


"...If | weren't covered in eldritch drool, I'd strangle you right now." 
She shook her head, and sat there with her brother, silently 
speaking, waiting for the containment team to pick them up. 


« Chapter 8| Black Autumn Hub | Chapter 10 » 


Charcoal 


"Alright. Dee Five O'Ten," Junior Researcher Perez began. "We will 
now present a series of photographs. All we want you to do is write 
a brief description of each photo, no more than a few sentences. 
Okay?" 


D-5010 nodded and looked ahead at the screen. Simple stock 
pictures, as might appear on the covers of greeting or birthday 
cards, ran in a slideshow. A city street at night. Neon lights reflect off 
everything wet from rain. There are people with umbrellas out 
walking. *click* A red and white lighthouse with a clear blue sky 
behind. It's sunny, and a wave is crashing on the rock. *click* An 
aerial view of tropical islands surrounded by water so clear and blue 
you can see the sandbars. *click* A child hopping over a puddle. 

The picture is in black and white, except the rubber rainboots are 
bright yellow. 


At the conclusion of the slideshow Perez stepped forward to observe 
the sheets of paper spread on the desk. D-5010 looked at the 
sheets too and furrowed his brow. Exchanging a glance with the 
researcher he preemptively answered what he knew was about to 
be asked. "I didn't write that part. Those parts. Or ... | didn't try to. | 
mean... each picture was on for not even a minute. Right? | didn't 
write that much, | don't think." 


Perez suppressed an exasperated sigh. Not just for this moment; 
she was exhausted from working so many extra hours recently. That 
was due to another Junior Researcher named Wren, recently 
transferred to the Site; an insufferable brown-noser who had danced 
his way into everyone's spotlight, then just as suddenly seemed to 
have deserted without a trace. Rumors of spying and espionage, 
despite the absence of actual evidence, had quietly circulated 
amongst some of the staff. Perez had swiftly volunteered to take 
over one of Wren's uncompleted projects, but that had led to more, 
and more, until she was the only one picking up all the slack. The 


SCP-815: Snake Nut Can 


Item #: SCP-815 
Item Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-815 requires no 
extraordinary containment procedures beyond a standard keypad- 
locked storage locker. Contact Doctor Meyers for access 
permissions. Under no circumstances should any non-class-D 
personnel open SCP-815. SCP-815 should be handled carefully as 
to prevent accidental activation. 


Description: SCP-815 is a novelty “snake nut can,” a common 
prank device that consists of a small canister labeled “Salted Mixed 
Nuts,” while in actuality it contains four cloth-covered springs (meant 
to represent "snakes") that fly out upon opening. X-ray and multi- 
spectral imaging have as yet determined no measurable unusual 
qualities of the can or "snakes". 


Upon opening, the "snakes" instantaneously vanish from the can 
and violently burst forth from the nearest person's (see note) face 
with extreme force. High-speed video footage reveals that the 
"snakes" appear to emerge from the lower sinuses, typically 
shattering the nose, cheekbones and upper jaw upon exiting. As a 
result, subjects often avoid major brain damage and remain alive 
until termination or death from blood loss/shock. 


After approximately fifteen seconds, the can re-seals itself and 
produces another four ordinary "snakes". The method by which the 
“snakes” achieve such extraordinary velocity without breaking is 
unknown. 


Note: Researchers are to be reminded that SCP-815 acts on the 
nearest person, even when opened by robot. | don't want to have to 
keep cleaning up these accidents, people. 

— Doctor Meyers 


extra workload only exasperated an already stressful situation for 
her. 


"It's fine," Perez returned her focus to the subject before her. "Thank 
you for your cooperation and efforts today." With that, she dismissed 
them from testing; there was nothing more to say. Perez wrote the 
words ‘Results identical to previous test' on her notepad, again 
because there was nothing more to say. 


There was one more avenue of testing to pursue, then this should 
finally be done with. 


Junior Researcher Perez was calm now. 


She had lost her temper with the D-class research assistant in the 
chamber earlier. They had simply been asked to draw an impression 
of the picture on display with the materials provided. It wasn't a 
difficult task, and their profile was tagged with ‘visual art experience’ 
so easier still. But they took so damn long with it, and kept fussing 
over details, and then they acted frustrated with it all and - Oh! One 
of the guards had interjected and walked her outside for a minute, 
until she regained her composure. Returning to the test chamber, 
Perez found the D-class artist to be less combative as well. The 
guard resumed his position by the door, Perez returned to the 
subject. 


"| just-" D-5154 stuttered as she began. "I just was having a hard 
time getting the... the texture right on certain places." She gestured 
toward her charcoal-print recreation of the landscape photo propped 
on an easel. "| don't understand what's happening... when I'm trying 
to do the shading for these darker parts it just... it..." 


Perez peered closely at the drawing. It looked like the original photo, 
as it should have. But if she squinted at the darkly shaded 
sections... she could almost make out... a pattern. "Damn it!" Perez 
slammed a hand on the table, making D-5154 (and even the guard 
in the corner) jump with a start. Before anyone else could speak she 
called an end to the testing and excused herself. She would return 
to her own workspace and consider how to, yet again, express for 
the record: 'Results identical to previous test’. 


"Knock knock!" 


Researcher Patey announced his presence without actually 
knocking; a habit Perez found almost as annoying as the way he 
immediately launched into whatever he was going to say without 
waiting for any response. 


"So, the gents upstairs are still waiting on the final assessment of 
that Object-862 that you had been working on." A moment of silence 
passed as Perez expected Patey might elaborate, while apparently 
Patey expected a string of numbers to suffice. "It was one of the 
assignments you took on after Researcher Wren's disappearance,” 
he added, barely helpfully. 


"Oh, | thought I'd already worked through all of those!" Perez 
scrawled 'AO-862' on a notepaper so she could look it up 
momentarily. "What ever came of that, do you know? The business 
with Wren, | mean." 


"Inconclusive," Patey shrugged. "Far as | know, anyway." 


"Huh... Well give me a few minutes here to check on that file, and I'll 
send a copy up to the Senior Researchers' office straight away." 
She smiled as she said it, but seconds later her expression reverted 
to neutral. Patey recognized the conversation was over, and fled 
accordingly.