Are you sure this is really going to work?" The rotors started to spin 
up, as the engines roared to life. The pull of gravity finally gave up, 
as the helicopter lifted away from the dull concrete building nestled 
in the deep forest of a suitably clandestine location. 


"No, but he's starting to adapt to the automated defenses. He's 
always been more receptive to a single agent, an 'opponent' of 
sorts. In the past, we've had agents take him down with enough 
handgun bullets to the face. We figure your talents might be more 
effective, and take a bit less effort," the agent eyed the rifle case 
significantly, raising an eyebrow. "You've trained a long time for this, 
right?" 


Captain De Luca nodded, "You know my qualifications. Myself, and 
the rest of Beta-4 are the best at what we do." He reached down, 
and patted the rifle case, "If anyone's ready for this, | guess | am. 
Able's a scary son of a—" 


The agent held up a hand, "SCP-076-2. Don't humanize it. It won't 
humanize you, you understand?" 


Captain De Luca nodded, "Of course. Sorry sir." The MTF captain 
took a minute to adjust his combat harness, the custom leather 
creaking slightly under his ministrations. 


A third voice clicked on to the intercom, "Six minutes to target. He's 
through the elevator shaft. Apparently the replacement on-site nuke 
misfired." 


"God dammit. Copy that. Authorizing bringing in Captain De Luca. 
Repeat, bringing in Longhorn asset," the agent spoke into the 
intercom, transmitting to the remote site as well as the cabin. 


The last of the guards fell under the furious assault of the enraged 
Able, his eyes flashing with anger, and power. He reached out, and 
grasped the ragged edges of the security door he'd been slashing 
his latest weapon against, tearing the steel apart with an angry 
shout. 


"You will not stop me! | will be free!" He sprinted down the next 


corridor, knowing the pathetic humans would set up the heavier 
machine guns which would slow him down. Sure enough, the slits in 
the wall opened up, and six barrels pointed down the narrow 
hallway. 


.50 caliber rounds streamed down the hallway towards the slim 
figure dashing towards them. A pair of black-edged ninja-to 
appeared in his hands, the deadly efficient blades a favorite of his 
studies. His hands blurred as he swatted the bullets out of the air 
which he couldn't simply avoid. 


A leap brought him in to a tucking roll dropping his blades, as his 
hands once more flashed under his cloak, throwing more blades into 
the barrels of the aggressors. A series of loud clicks prefaced 
another series of catastrophic failures of the automatic weapons. A 
small smile crossed his face as the swords landed in his open 
palms. 


Able calmly strode out towards the final chamber of the containment 
site, a thin veneer of sweat sheening off his bronze skin. "At least 
they are getting better at this." He broke into a run bent at the waist, 
his hands stretched out behind him, a secret technique he'd learned 
to sprint more effectively. 


The helicopter set down at the landing pad a hundred meters from 
the relatively plain concrete bunker which concealed one of the 
deadliest beings on the planet, according to the report. The rotors 
didn't stop as the agent waved Captain De Luca off. 


Captain De Luca nodded, releasing the rifle case from its straps, 
and ducking down to avoid the rotors, as he dashed over to the 
designated area, fifty meters from the entrance to Area 25b. Smoke 
poured out from the door, as he breathed in and out slowly. 


He laid the rifle case down, and popped the locks open, slowly 
opening the case. He ran his fingers over the object within, smiling 
slightly with familiarity. Years of practice, thousands of hours 
teaching how to use this weapon, and a hundred successful combat 
sorties. No one else had faced the kinds of threats that he had, and 
survived. No one else had the skills, reflexes, and instinct necessary 


for this kind of work. 


He was ready. 


Able shoulder-charged the final concrete door, yelling his frustration. 
The steel buckled under his assault, and two more slams of his 
heavily muscled frame knocked the door completely off of its hinges, 
flying out into the noon-day sun. 


The scent of fresh air filled his nostrils as he heady aroma of the 
earth surrounded him. "Finally. Air. | am free." His eyes closed, as 
he took in the feeling of sunlight once more. He would finally be able 
to track down his— 


"076-2. I'm gonna have to ask you to return to your containment 
chamber." A voice interrupted his reverie. His eyes slid down, a 
baleful glare alighting upon the single human standing before him, a 
black plastic case at his feet. 


He'd seen things like this before. They contained weapons which 
used larger bits of metal. Normally they weren't this close when they 
tried to harm him with such weapons. This was the first time in a 
long time that a single human felt that the could stand against the 
ancient warrior. "Brave. Very brave, to stand against me. | am Able, 
first of my name. | am the first blade, ancient master, lord of war. 
Who are you?" 


Captain De Luca stood, his feet shoulder width apart, and balanced. 
"Giancarlo De Luca. Captain of MTF Beta-4 of the Foundation." 


"| was in a task force once. We were Pandora's Box. That which 
would destroy the world. What do you call yourselves?" Able let the 
swords dissapear in to the ether as he sized up the average height 
man in front of him. 


"The Flower of Battle," Captain De Luca answered, standing ready 
but otherwise unperturbed. 


Able let his head back, and laughed, deeply and from his belly. 
"Flower of Battle? Really? This will be boring. Draw your little metal 


flinger. | will cut you down." Able reached under his cloak, and 
concentrated, drawing his favorite blade. The beautiful bronze and 
obsidian blade slipped into his fingers. The hilt was ornate, covered 
in ancient script decrying his deeds. The pommel was a glorious 
star-sapphire, and its name was "First One" in a language older than 
human memory. A priceless relic, reserved only for the particularly 
worthy, or insolent. 


He opened his eyes, taking in the captain, as he kneeled down, and 
drew forth from the case his preferred weapon. He went through his 
usual routine whenever he picked up the sword, touching the parts, 
and muttering to himself. 


"Pommel..." he touched the flared base of the sword, where the 
tang was hammered down into a peened stud, "grip..." the leather 
was well worn, and should probably be replaced in the next year or 
so, "quillons..." the sturdy crossguard was a pair of swept bars, with 
side rings, a classic standby of Italian longswords, "strong..." he 
placed his hand eight inches up the blade where he would block and 
parry with, "weak..." he placed his fingers six inches from the top of 
the sword, where all of his force would be concentrated, the perfect 
place to strike with, "point." 


Captain De Luca stood, the wood and leather scabbard easily 
slipping into the frog at the hip of his belt. The Italian longsword was 
his favorite, manufactured by The Foundation to his specifications. It 
was the same design his father and grandfather had used. It wasn't 
made from baby's tears, or the heart of a dying star or anything else 
suitably exotic. A vanadium-carbon-molybdenum steel mix, used for 
impact resistance, and toughness. It wasn't particularly special. The 
armory technicians used the same mix for high-end combat knives 
given to other MTF agents. Sturdy, reliable, and simple. It had been 
in his hand facing down a dozen or more horrible monsters over the 
years. 


Able was transfixed. A swordsman? They didn't send more guns this 
time, but finally a true student of the blade, worthy of his attention. 
"Oh ho ho, a swordsman? Very brave, but very foolish. Before your 
Foundation floundered in the dark, I'd studied the blade for 
millennia!" 


Captain De Luca adjusted the straps holding the scabbard, making 
sure his blade wouldn't stick when he drew it. He looked up, 
stretching his calves slightly. "Yes. I've watched the video of you 
fighting.” 


Able grinned, his arms windmilling, anticipating the fight ahead. He 
hadn't exercised his skills in so long, he would take pleasure in 
clashing with this human, however shortly. "My sword is First One, 
in your language. What is your sword's name?" 


"The Oathkeeper, " Captain De Luca shrugged, carefully drawing his 
sword, across his body with his other hand on the scabbard. It 
wasn't dramatic, but it was correct. Captain De Luca took a single 
step forward, his left foot in front of his right. He balanced his weight, 
lifted and turned his sword fifteen degrees, a slightly defensive 
adjustment to the classic posta longa stance. Both hands on the hilt, 
blade held projected before him, hands spaced as far apart as 
comfortable. One finger laid over the quillons, resting against the 
blunt ricasso of the lower few inches of the blade of the sword. It 
was an easy, comfortable stance. 


Able let out another deep belly laugh, and smiled, lowering his body 
into his stance, his heavy blade above his head with his arm cocked 
out, the point directly towards Captain De Luca's center of mass. His 
free hand held out before him, as if to ward off any blows. "Very 
well, let us begin!" Able sprinted forward, covering the distance in 
what felt like the blink of an eye. His sword came crashing down 
towards the agent, a whistling flash of bronze and fury. 


Captain De Luca took a single step to his left with his back foot, 
bringing him neatly out of line. His sword never left guard, or moved 
more than a few inches. Able's sword slammed into the ground, a 
dull thunk disturbing the dust of the windswept dirt. 


"Very good, human. | suppose you have some skill. Nothing 
personal, but | will destroy you," Able spun on his heel, bringing the 
sword up from the ground towards Captain De Luca's right side. 


De Luca moved his sword in a quick circle, bringing it down to block 
against the flank, letting Able's blade slide up his, a dull rasping 
sound escaping as he altered the angle to redirect the force. Able's 


HER. SHE WAS GOOD AT LISTENING. 


Agent Jovahgo: What kind of things would you tell 
her? 


SCP-958-A: OF THE MANY HUMAN 
MILITARISTIGC ACCOMPLISHMENTS 
THROUGHOUT HISTORY, SUCH AS THE 
PEOPLE IT HAS FREED AND THE 
TECHNOLOGICAL ADVANCES IT HAS FUNDED. 


Agent Jovahgo: What about telling her to how to 
create SCP-958-B, the weapons? 


SCP-958-A: WEAPONS? 


Agent Jovahgo: We confiscated what Ellen 
described as a "laser rifle," which | personally 
watched melt a conveyor belt. We're fairly sure one 
of the kids was pushing an IED around in a little 
red wagon. 


SCP-958-A: THERE SEEMS TO BEA 
MISUNDERSTANDING, LIEUTENANT. THOSE 
ARE TOYS, LIKE MYSELF. THE CHILDREN USE 
THEM TO PLAY GAMES. 


Agent Jovahgo: So storming that place was a 
game? 


SCP-958-A: A VERY FUN GAME. 


Agent Jovahgo: What if the children hurt 
themselves with these toys? And that place was 
really dangerous. 


SCP-958-A: DR. WONDERTAINMENT IS NOT 
LIABLE FOR ANY PERSONAL OR PROPERTY 
DAMAGE OR LOSS WHICH MAY RESULT FROM 
THE OPERATION OF GENERAL-BEEP. 
HOWEVER, | DID MAKE SURE ELLEN HAD HER 
DR. WONDERTAINMENT'S YOUNG SURGEON'S 


sword slammed into the quillons of De Luca's own sword, locking 
the blades firmly. Able pushed hard against the other sword, but with 
the angle of the blades, he couldn't get any leverage, no matter how 
much strength he applied. De Luca moved his hands down and 
forward, pulling Able's elbow out of line, and robbing his arm of any 
force. 


De Luca's hands flicked to the side, pushing Able's sword 
completely out of the way, before bringing his arms straight 
backwards, towards Able's chin, the peened tang at the end of his 
pommel firmly striking the taller bronze warrior in the cheek. 


Able reeled back, working his jaw. "You have skills, human. | should 
not underestimate you, but you will fall before my deadly blade." 
Abel strode forward, his blade held in one hand, high above his 
shoulder. He swung in wide sweeping motions, each strike directed 
towards De Luca's head or chest. 


Agent De Luca kept pace with the strikes, taking practiced steps 
back, warding off strikes one by one without significant effort. Able's 
breath started to come in pants, as the heavy blows took their toll on 
the preternaturally strong fighter. "Why won't you stand still, and 
fight me?!" His voice rang out, frustrated. 


Agent De Luca took two steps back, switching his guard from the 
castle, to the middle iron door, his sword held horizontally across his 
hips. "Why would | stand still? You keep swinging away like that, I'm 
not just going to let you hit me." 


"Enough!" Able yelled, his sword coming straight down vertically at 
De Luca's head. 


De Luca took another step out of line, his back foot crossing to bring 
him completely out of the way of the attack. His left foot stepped 
backwards, bringing his body back in line with Able's flank. He 
brought his sword horizontal, stepping forward into one of the eight 
basic strikes he'd long since committed to muscle memory, the weak 
of his sword swiping out and opening a slash across the bronze 
flesh. 


Able stumbled, and spun, his feet skidding in the dust of the desert. 


"What?! How did you do that? | should have annihilated your guard, 
and crushed you!" 


De Luca blinked the sweat from his eyes, catching his breath, and 
returning to guard. "Your sword was all the way over your head. You 
only had one possible motion. What did you think was going to 
happen?" 


Able growled, his hand reaching to the deep slash on his side. It was 
bleeding freely, and he pressed hard, his regenerative abilities 
already slowly closing the wound. "You have no idea what you are 
playing at. | will end you!" Able took two wide steps, and spun to his 
left, his sword closing the same line that De Luca's had a moment 
ago. 


Agent De Luca turned with the strike, robbing it of most of its power, 
a Classic circling step into a side-parry. His sword moved ina 
semicircle, displacing Able's overly-heavy sword, and lifting it out of 
line. He reached out, placing his hand on the middle of the sword 
grasping lightly. He drew backwards with both hands, a half- 
sworded draw cut, drawing hard across Able's left bicep. The slash 
opened the muscle halfway to the bone, the ancient warrior's arm 
hanging down half useless. He took a step back, returning to guard, 
moving the sword point down over his right leg, to the Boar's Tooth 
guard. 


"Augh! What trickery is this?! How did you evade me again?" Able's 
voice snarled out, his left hand limp by his side. 


"Your technique is awful, Able. Have you ever done this before?" De 
Luca's voice was incredulous, holding his guard steady, his breath 
coming in slow pants. Able's technique was terrible, but that didn't 
mean he should drop his guard. Even amateurs get lucky. 


Able's voice flustered for a moment, "Y-yeah, of course | have. I've 
been fighting with swords since the time of creation!" 


De Luca's eyebrow raised slightly, "Well...you're kind of terrible. Any 
of my students could probably keep up with you." 


"That's the last straw! | will destroy you!" Able streaked out once 


more, his good right arm coming down at a forty five degrees. The 
strength behind the blow could shatter mountains, as the heavy 
sword cleaved towards De Luca's heart. 


De Luca took the same off-line step for a third time, bringing his own 
sword up to meet Able's. The crushing strength of the sword meant 
little to the laws of physics. The power behind the blow forced it to 
move in line with the smaller Agent's sword, drawing Able off 
balance. He stumbled forward, exposing his back to the Foundation 
agent.