The party continued for a little bit longer before the mayor of 
Portland took the stage. With all the flair one would expect of a 
politician, he made a short speech and then welcomed Tom Herring 
to the stage to unveil his art piece. With a small drum roll, the curtain 
was drawn back to reveal a four meter tall white marble sculpture of 
a medieval knight, sword held aloft. What caught Merlo’s eye was 
that the piece’s face bore a striking resemblance to Daniel Navarro. 


“Daniel,” she whispered under her voice, “why the hell does this 
statue look like you?” 


“Clearly someone thought the world could do with a little more 
Navarro in it,” he whispered back. “Do you actually think | know the 


answer to that?” 


It was then Navarro noticed a man standing on one of the balconies 
overlooking the ballroom. He was dressed in a black business suit, 
and had short blond hair. A single leather glove could be seen on his 
right hand. The man nodded at Navarro and motioned for the two 
agents to join him. 


“Son of a bitch,” Navarro mumbled and quickly got to his feet. He 
then spoke into the radio hidden on his person. “Hill's been spotted.” 


Navarro and Merlo lost no time finding a stairway to the upper levels 
of the ballroom. The two agents quietly drew their pistols as they 
made their way to the balcony door. Merlo held her breath as 
Navarro counted down on his fingers. 


3 
2 
1 


Navarro quickly opened the door and passed through to the other 
side, the door slamming shut in Merlo’s face as soon as he passed 
the threshold. The agent quickly tested the door handle, but found it 
locked. Merlo attempted to kick the door in, but to no avail. The door 
was sealed. 


“Fuck...” Merlo mumbled under her breath. 


On the other side of the door Navarro now stood alone, the balcony 
absent of Jericho T. Hill. With a frustrated sigh, he looked over the 
balcony at the ongoing party below. His gaze swept over to Tom and 
Jill shaking hands with many of the hotel’s benefactors, and then to 
the statue. He smiled as he looked at its face. 


“Certainly a handsome guy,” Navarro chuckled to himself. 


Navarro’s smile vanished when he noticed the statue begin to move. 
lts unblinking eyes turned to him on the balcony. It then pointed its 
sword at him. Screams could be heard in the audience below as the 


statue stepped down from its pedestal and began to make its way 
across the ballroom. 


“You have got to be kidding me...” Navarro mumbled as he readied 
his pistol for the oncoming fight. “Strike team, now would a great 
time for you to strike!” 


As soon as she heard the gunshots coming from the ballroom, 
Agent Merlo pulled a 180 from the balcony door. However, as soon 
as she completed her turn, she was greeted by Jericho T. Hill 
standing only a few meters away. As she leveled her firearm, she 
felt a great force yank it from her hands, the weapon sailing through 
the air until it landed in the palm of Jericho’s glove. The weapon 
turned to rust in his grip. 


“If you promise to remain calm for the next minute or so, | won’t 
have the other pistol you’ve hidden on your person go off,” said 
Jericho. His voice was completely without emotion. “I imagine that 
would be very messy.” 


“Quite,” Merlo replied. “So this was a trap the whole time? Lure us 
in, set off some anomaly, and then jet?” 


“More or less,” Jericho replied. 


“How do you plan on that last part? We have this place surrounded. 
You can’t just walk out the front door Mr. Hill.” 


“Oh I’m aware,” said Jericho. “Tell me, Suit, how well do you know 
Daniel?” 


“Well enough,” Merlo answered. “Get on with it. You're stalling.” 


“Then you’d know that he was an anartist in a former life, and 
started working for the Suits after he was apprehended and 
promised amnesty in exchange for serving as a double agent.” 


“And your point is...” 


“What happens when the chips are down again?” Jericho sneered. 
“What happens when he is captured by the Hand or the Coalition 


and promised a similar deal? He is a man completely devoted to 
preserving his freedom, and you and anyone he associates are 
going to be caught in the crossfire.” 


“I'd like to think Daniel has a little more integrity than that,” Merlo 
replied flatly. 


“Does he though?” Jericho shouted back, “I knew at least ten 
anartists who thought the same thing, and he helped the Suits kill 
them. Believe me, he will end you.” 


There was the sound of shattering glass. Two members of the 
Foundation strike team descended from a skylight. 


“Get down, Merlo,” one shouted. Without further hesitation they 
opened fire on Jericho. 


At the same time, Jericho held out his gloved hand at the strike 
team. Their bullets flew through the air, stopping several centimeters 
from his outstretched palm. Jericho waited for the sound of empty 
magazines, and then made a small gesture with his hand, the 
collection of bullets diverting towards the agents. Each shot hit its 
mark. The two agents fell to the ground. 


Merlo lost no time charging Jericho from behind, knocking him off 

his feet with a firm tackle. However, before she could incapacitate 
her target, Merlo received several blows to her face from Jericho’s 
elbow. Disoriented, Merlo felt him push her off. She got to her feet 
as quickly as she could, but by the time she was oriented Jericho 

was gone. 


“Fuck!” Merlo shouted at the top of her lungs. 


Jericho T. Hill had yet again escaped. 


The marble statue held Agent Navarro in a firm grip as it batted at 
the members of the Foundation strike team with its sword. The room 
had long been evacuated of civilians, leaving only the various 
agents to attempt to contain the anomaly. The strike team 
continuously peppered the colossus with all manner of small arms 


fire, chipping away at its frame. Eventually a grenade went off, 
causing the statue to topple to the ground. Bracing for the impact, 
Navarro felt the statue’s grip loosen upon collision with the ballroom 
floor. 


Navarro quickly rolled away as the strike team provided covering 
fire. AS soon as he reoriented himself, he turned to see the statue 
crawling after him. 


“Stand back!” he shouted at the strike team. He then held out his 
hands and made several odd gestures, muttering unintelligible 
speech for almost half a minute. The strike team watched as the 
statue started to steam, then glow, and finally became coated in 
nuclear fire. As the rest of the strike team looked away from the 
intense light and heat, Navarro remained concentrated on the task 
at hand. A few moments later, Navarro lowered his arm. The fire 
quickly dissipated to reveal that the statue was now a molten sludge, 
only the face remaining partially intact. 


Navarro then sighed as he leaned against one of the ballroom’s 
many columns before sliding to the floor. As he looked over at the 
statue’s now deformed mockery of his face, he couldn’t help but 
chuckle. He then turned his gaze to remains of the strike team, 
watching as a beaten and bruised Agent Merlo slowly walked over to 
his spot on the floor. 


“Hill?” Navarro asked. 
“Escaped,” Merlo replied. 


“Well then. Glad to see that this was a fruitful evening.” 


Agents Merlo and Navarro sat in front of the desk of Director 
Holman, a tall, sharply dressed man with slicked back hair, and Site 
Director of Site-64. For several moments, he didn’t say a word. 
Rather, he simply stared at the two agents. 


“| had to sign the order authorizing the use of amnestics on the 
fucking mayor of Portland,” Holman said, eventually breaking the 
silence. “Needless to say, my superiors are less than pleased with 


the outcome of this most recent mission.” 
Neither Navarro nor Merlo responded. 


“While some are calling for both of you to be seriously reprimanded, 
the fact that this incident was largely self-contained and easily 
covered up has bought you both a large degree of leniency. 
Congratulations. For now you’re off the hook. However, for the 
foreseeable future, you’d both be wise to keep your heads down. 
Dismissed.” 


Quietly, Navarro and Merlo left Director Holman’s office behind. 
Upon entering the hallway, Merlo placed a hand on her colleague’s 
shoulder. 

“You doing okay there?” She asked. 


Navarro didn’t respond right away. Instead, something Jericho had 
said to him several months prior entered his mind. 


But, if | keep putting you into situations like this, how long do you 
think it will take for them to question your value as an agent? If they 
are constantly pulling you from incapacitation, when will they start to 
see you as a liability? 


“Never been better,” Navarro replied, and left without another word. 


«Part Three: J.T.H. | Hub | Part Five: Bridges Burnt» 


Bridges Burnt 


Tom and Jill Herring had been in the middle of dinner when they 
were interrupted by a knock at the front door. Rolling his eyes in 
annoyance, Tom went to answer. He was greeted by a tattered 
Daniel Navarro in bloodstained plainclothes. 


“Jesus Christ, Dan,” said Tom, his mouth open in surprise. “What 
the hell happened to you?” 


“Evening, Tom,” the agent calmly replied. “Mind if | come in?” 


“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea...” Tom began, pausing when he 
noticed Navarro discreetly held a pistol in his right hand. 


“l insist,” said Navarro. He then gestured for Tom to lead the way. 


A few moments later Navarro was seated at their kitchen table. An 
uncomfortable silence filled the room as he gestured for the couple 
to continue with their meal. Instead, the two anartists looked Navarro 
over. 


Gone was his sly smile. In its place a contemplative frown 
dominated his face. The ever present stubble that they were familiar 
with was now more of a beard. Several partially healed cuts and 
bruises could be seen across his face and arms. 


“So, uh,” Tom began, trying to hide how flustered he was behind a 
smile, “what brings you to the neighborhood?” 


Navarro promptly pulled several folders out of a backpack he had 
been carrying and placed them on the table. With a delicate touch, 
he opened the folder at the top of the pile and began to read. 


“Anthony Romero, a specialist in making and animating small 
porcelain figurines, found in his apartment in San Francisco three 
weeks ago encased in porcelain. Jessica Teal, a glass blower who 


had a talent for making bottles that could hold anomalously large 
amounts of liquid, found dead in her home two and a half weeks 
ago; her brain had been removed and replaced with one of her own 
glass bulbs. Charles Torres, liked to make films that changed in 
content every time they were viewed, strangled by several roles of 
Super 8 film in his workshop a week ago. Viviana and Tori Perez, 
two sculptors who specialized in a process of malleable steel, we 
got to them first this time, but there was a fight... they ended up 
impaled together by a steel rod.” 


Navarro slammed the folders down on the table with a large thud. 


“Each of these anartists was murdered by the same person, for no 
other reason than the fact that they were one of my friends, 
informants, or in most cases, both.” 


“That’s tragic, Daniel,” Jill said apprehensively, “but that doesn’t 
exactly explain why you're here...” 


“Well, Jill,” Navarro replied, “it just so happened that the man who 
killed them was Jericho.” 


“Wait, what...” Tom muttered. His expression turned to one of 
disgust. 


“Why?” Jill asked. Her face became pale with shock. 


“Does it matter?” Navarro replied, “The point is people are dying; 
people with families.” 


“You're lying...” Jill said. “You’re a Suit. Why should we believe you? 
What on earth would drive someone as kind as Jericho to do all 
this...” 


Navarro collected something from each of the folders and placed 
them in front of Jill. Each one was a note card. 


First. Cheers -JTH 
Second. Enjoy — JTH 


Third. Love — JTH 


First, the deadbolt in my motel room door refused to disengage. | 
had to break a window to escape. As | was leaving, | was certain | 
heard the sink and shower come on... 


My car had somehow migrated to the other side of the parking lot. 


As soon as | got out of the parking lot, a violent thunderstorm 
started. It was the first time there had been so much as a breeze 
since | arrived. 


Two major streets were closed: one for “construction,” and one due 
to “a downed power line.” 


At least a dozen cars had all broken down right in the middle of an 
intersection. 


Finally, at the last intersection before | got out of town, the traffic 
light suddenly turned red, without an intervening yellow, and stayed 
that way for half an hour. | finally decided to ignore the light and 
floored it. The cable holding the light broke as | drove under it, and 
the traffic light just barely missed my car. 


If the Foundation expects me to keep working like this, they'll have 
to start paying me a lot more than they do. 


Note: Pay increase declined. Welcome to the Foundation, get used 
to it. -O5-6 


« SCP-598 | SCP-599 | SCP-600 » 


Fourth and Fifth. Your friend — JTH 


“Because he’s insane,” Navarro answered. He then sighed and 
began to mumble. “And | may or may not have gotten his brother 
and fiancé killed on one of my early raids with the Suits...” 


The room fell silent. Jill and Tom’s disgust for Jericho now focused 
on Navarro. 


“So what on earth made you think coming here was a good idea?” 
Tom asked. 


In response Navarro reached back into his pack and pulled out 
several bank statements. Each one belonged to Tom. 


“Because | know Jericho’s been your patron for quite a while, Tom,” 
Navarro said. “And that it’s very likely that you have some means of 
arranging a meeting with him.” 


“You want us to become turncoats?” Jill asked. 
“That would be nice,” Navarro replied. 

“And if we refuse?” 

Navarro let out a frustrated sigh. 


“Does it look like | came here dressed for no to be your answer? 
You're helping me catch this son of a bitch, or | swear to god | will 
burn your fucking house down.” 


Jill nervously laughed. 
“You wouldn't.” 


Navarro gave a small snap of his fingers, causing a tiny blue flame 
to appear on the palm of his right hand. 


“Try me.” 


“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on there champ!” Tom said as he got out 
of his seat. “Let’s not do anything stupid. I’ll shoot Jericho an email 


right now. | can guarantee you he'll respond by tomorrow morning.” 


“Excellent,” Navarro smiled, extinguishing the flame by clenching his 
fist. He then got to his feet and swung his pack over his shoulder. 
“We can discuss the details over coffee tomorrow afternoon, say, at 
three. Jill Knows the coffee shop.” 


Navarro began to make his way to the exit, stopping to turn on his 
way out. 


“| promise that if all goes well, you'll never see me again. | mean it 
this time.” 


Without another word, the agent left, the door softly closing behind 
him. With a sigh, Jill buried her face in her hands. 


“Bullshit.” 


Two days later, Daniel Navarro found himself hidden among several 
crates within Tom Herring’s studio. A collection of half-finished metal 
and stone sculptures were spread throughout the space, giving the 
large room a feeling of being crowded. Navarro sighed as he 
adjusted his position. Any second now, Jericho was due to arrive. 


Navarro felt himself tense up upon hearing the sound of the studio 
doors opening. A tall, sharply dressed man with short blond hair 
entered. A single black leather glove could be seen on his right 
hand. The agent recognized him on sight as Jericho T. Hill. 


“Evening, Tom,” Jericho said as he began to make his way towards 
the workbench at the center of the room. His voice carried a tone of 
exhaustion. Jericho began to look around the room for his absent 
host. “Tom?” 


Show time, Navarro thought to himself. He quietly drew his pistol, 
and leveled his weapon before firing four shots.