"Control, Rho-9 Delta reporting success! | repeat, the date was a 
success. Permission to extract?" 


A static voice came through the headset. "Granted. Good work 
Delta, looks like Brandon owes us both a drink. | doubt he'll mind 
buying though!" 


Nathan chuckled as he began to shift himself back through the 
vents. As he went on, he turned off the audio retrievers inside the 
apartment. 


Wasteland 


Gareth poked his head over the rocks, peering across the blasted 
landscape. It was a particularly hot day, the sun's rays bouncing off 
the endless gray of the wasteland, nothing but the occasional ravine 
or dead, naked tree dotting the endless fields of stone. Only the 
sighing wind gave him any company as he searched for the single 
source of food for miles, the devious rock lizards that scuttled 
throughout the rocky outcroppings.With his bow slung across his 
back, Gareth moved across the waste, using his hands as much as 
his feet to propel himself forward. The dull army helmet on his head 
and rags covering his clothing helped him blend in perfectly with the 
surroundings. The world was an unforgiving one, where you were 
either fast and silent or easy prey for a wandering Beast. Gareth 
was a Straggler, one of those who chose to fend for themselves 
instead of joining one of the dozen armies that fought for control 
over this war-torn planet. 


Hugging close to a somewhat large boulder, Gareth pulled out his 
bow, spying a black lizard sunning itself on the rocks a dozen 
meters away. Knocking an arrow, he carefully aimed. He would get 
one shot at this, rock lizards were skittish and easily frightened 
creatures. Understandable, considering that they lived in a place 
where nameless abominations roamed freely and destroyed or 
devoured anything that was in their way. 


Suddenly, the rock lizard perked up its head, staring off into the 
distance. Giving a squeak of fear, it scurried under the rocks, 
probably into some hidden burrow under the ground. Gareth 
paused, and placed a hand on the ground. He shuddered with fear, 
feeling the all-too-familiar vibrations in the earth. Quickly, he 
unstrapped his field glasses, looking off in the direction the lizard 
had. There, in the distance, was a black band of moving figures 
covering the horizon. Troops, there was an army approaching. 


Twiddling a dial at the side of the glasses, he zoomed in on them, 


scanning the ranks for a banner that would identify which army this 
was. If he knew which particular faction this army belonged to, he 
might be able to judge how they were going to act, and hopefully 
find a way to avoid encountering them. He spotted it, a massive flag 
depicting five jagged shards of metal joining together to form a 
twisted circle. Gareth groaned. 


They were Assemblage troops. The Church was on the move. 


Still sticking low to the ground, Gareth darted across the broken 
landscape. He moved diagonally away from the advancing army, 
trying to get away from them as fast as possible. It was unwise to 
run into soldiers belonging to the Holy Order of the Assemblage. If 
they found him, they would only give him a single choice: Become a 
devoted member of the army; join the Priesthood of the Assemblage 
God; or be turned into one of the mindless automatons the Church 
employed. Not content with summoning their monstrous deity to this 
planet, the Church had to subjugate the rest of the human species to 
their way. 


If he had been lucky, Gareth would have run into one of 
warmongering tribes devoted to the Hunter. That way, he could have 
thrown down his bow and arrows, shown he was no threat or 
challenge to them, and be left alone relatively unscathed. Even the 
horrifically inhuman minions of the immortal Lizard King would have 
been preferable to the proselytizing Church. A quick death to the 
purge being committed by the hordes the Lizard King had 
supposedly pulled from another realm would be far less painful to 
the iron grip the Church held on their recruits. 


As Gareth scurried across the rocky wastes, he could feel another 
set of vibrations shivering through the earth. Looking up in horror, he 
could see a second army, this one moving up from the south, 
towards him and the Assemblage army. Lying prone on the ground, 
he pulled up his field glasses in an attempt to see this new army. 


There was no point in searching for a banner with this group, 
however. This army's allegiance was made clear by the white paint 
all of the soldiers wore on their faces, put there in homage to the 
cruel masked being they served that was known only as the White 
Lord. The White Lord, who sat upon a throne as black as death, who 


When SCP-992 is able to observe any weather pattern, the 
perception of humans viewing SCP-992 will be changed. These 
humans will observe unusual and nonsensical weather and 
meteorological activities. This effect will persist for 10-30 minutes 
after the affected persons have ceased viewing SCP-992. While 
affected, subjects will be unable to refer to themselves or others by 
name. 


Observations of subject affected by SCP-992 

We were just sitting on the bed of the ute’, shootin’ the 
breeze. It wasn't anything pressing or nothin’, it's just that 
driving gets boring after awhile. Then | see this blackfella 
walking up the road. He doesn't have any shoes or 
anything on, and his feet looked all ruined. | was about to 
ask him if he was all right when the drop hit me. Now 
mind you, this the middle of the outback, and there 
weren't no clouds or nothin’. 


So, we turn back to lookit the Abo, and he’s pointin' up. 
Stared at him for a sec, then | look where he's pointin’. 
There's this white... black cloud. Hard to explain... hard 
to picture... but try to imagine the cloud took the shadow 
it was castin' on the ground, and wrapped it around itself 
like a blanket. Looked like it was keeping the life inside 
warm. About then's when the second drop hit, and the 
burning started. 


These looked like raindrops, ‘cept they were rusty. Like 
someone was driving an old beat-up ute trundlin' on top 
of the wrapped cloud. They looked hot, and when they 
hit it burned — not like a sudden heat burn, more of an 
old burn, the kind you get after walking through the 
desert for a lifetime. It's deep in the skin. Never really 
goes away... sometimes you'll ferget, think it left. As ya 
think about it, starts with an itch. Gets real bad. When 
you scratch it, the sun and time and oldness all comes 
crawling out. 


We skedaddled pretty quick, didn't wanna stick around 
after all that. | don't know if he caused it, or if he was 
warning us, but he knew. You could see it in his wrinkles, 


could reach into the minds of men and tear their souls from their 
bodies. The White Lord, who revelled in corruption and could make 
the very walls bleed in fear of him. The White Lord, who 
commanded his army through sheer terror, and held a grip on them 
that could rival that of the Assemblage Church's. 


The two most fanatical armies in the world were about to clash, and 
Gareth was stuck between them. 


Forgetting any attempt at stealth, Garet stood up and bolted, making 
a mad dash to get out of the way of the two incoming titans. His feet 
slammed into the ground as he ran, sheer fear driving him away 
from the soon-to-be warzone. The opposing forces were large, but 
he had a good distance between the two, and he prayed to the gods 
that he reached the edge of the armies before they met. 


Luck was on his side, as it were, and when the forces were about to 
clash he was a good distance away from the field of battle. He kept 
running though, on the chance there was a flanking attempt that 
could sweep him up. As he moved, he could hear the two sides 
scream their respective battle cries of 'In the holy name of the 
Assembled God!' and 'For his high honor, the White Lord!". A 
monstrous scream split the air as the two monstrous armies 
slammed into each other. Gareth was fairly far away from them, but 
their cries could be heard for miles. 


Gareth slowed down. He was far enough from them, he was safe. 
He continued his slow trot away from them, not even worrying to 
stay low to the ground. There weren't going to be any Beasts in the 
area, they were smart enough to avoid a battle. As he walked, 
Gareth sighed, depressed at the state the world was in. He had 
been a straggler since the day he was born, knowing no life other 
than hiding from monsters and armies, knowing no landscape 
except for the dead rock called Earth. There were small towns and 
cities scattered across the planet, yes, but Gareth had found living in 
them a difficult life, for they drew Beasts to them like moths to a 
light. 


It hadn't always been this way, according to the legends Gareth had 
heard as a child. Back then, years and years ago, the world was 
said to be a lush, green place, with water that wasn't brown and 


trees that had leaves. It was a world where armies hadn't destroyed 
the planet, and humans didn't have the need to hide from hideous 
monstrosities. 


That was almost three hundred years ago, according to the stories. 


From what he heard from the elders, something had happened two 
hundred and eighty years ago. The ancient tales told of a series of 
monstrous explosions across Earth. The first happened in the 
eastern portion of some long-dead nation called 'America’. That had 
been the trigger, for soon after that a wave of explosions popped up 
across the planet, everywhere from populated cities to the middle of 
the most desolate deserts. Out of these explosions came the 
Beasts, hundreds of terrifying creatures that would warp reality and 
kill without mercy. 


The nations of the world united, and attempted to vanquish these 
beasts. At first, they were successful. At first. But with the Beasts 
came the kings and generals that now fought for dominance. There 
was the Assemblage Church, the Hunter, the White Lord, the Lizard 
King, the Queen of Darkness, and the leaderless Army of the Dead, 
along with other monstrous rulers. Whatever it was that caused 
those explosions, it had sealed the fate of humankind and doomed 
them to a death of eternal warring and a husk of a planet as a home. 


Gareth sat down, now completely out of sight of the raging armies. 
Looking across this section of the blasted, dead terrain, he realized 
he needed to dig himself a new home before night fell. His stomach 
growled, the combat had lost him a chance to eat today. That was 
all that was left for humans. Hunger, death, and a desolate 
wasteland. For three centuries monsters and demons had fought for 
control, and they could do nothing but pray that their new masters 
would be a kind one, futile as that may sound. There would be no 
end, and no hope for humans. 


Gareth shook his head, setting out to build himself a new home. 
Such things were not his place to dwell upon, he was too busy trying 
to survive. 


So You Can Live In The Light 


Dear Ms. Jacobs, 


It is with the deepest regret that | write to you today. Your 
son, Mickey, has been killed in action in the course of his 
duties under my command. The loss of a child is difficult 
for any parent. Yet you should know that Agent Mickey 
Jacobs was one of the finest men | ever commanded. 


Mick was dutiful and kind; with an easy smile. A smile he 
professed on several occasions, he got from you. The 
impact that his loss has had on us can only be a fraction 
of that which you must now be experiencing. 


His devotion to the principles of honor and self-sacrifice 
lived in every part of his life. And it was self-sacrifice of 
the highest order that led to his death. It is left to me, 
then, to provide my fullest devotion to the principle of 
honor, and it is that honor that demands from me a 
truthful retelling of the events which led to his passing. 


First, in the interest of frankness: your son was nota 
security guard for a lumber company. Your son was a 
hero. 


On August 18th of this year your son was stationed at 
one of our organization's facilities in South Alabama. A 
security breach occurred in one of our high risk sectors 
and your son was sent in as part of a team of individuals 
to stop the threat. Your son was at the front of a 
formation of 7 agents when an automated door sealed 
him inside the facility without his team. 


With no support and spotty communication, your son 
made his way towards danger, providing fire support for 
the site's security staff on one of the lower levels. He was 


then tasked by the site director to rescue several of our 
research staff from the monsters that now roamed the 
site. 


He was killed during the final rescue of these staff. 
Today a dozen of our best minds are still alive because 
of your son. 


| cannot begin to understand the sorrow you must now 
feel, but know that your son's death was not in vain, and 
that he will be remembered by all those who knew him 
as a brave, dutiful, and honorable man. 


Sincerely, and most remorsefully yours, Agent Jonathan 
Bradley 


SITE-88'S INFOSEC Al HAS DETECTED AN ATTEMPT 
TO DISSEMINATE CLASSIFIED MATERIALS. 


INTERCEPTING, REDIRECTING, AND REPLACING 
WITH INFOSEC APPROVED COVER STORY. 


AGENT JONATHAN BRADLEY IS TO BE 
REPRIMANDED FOR THIS ATTEMPT. 


Dear Ms. Jacobs, 


Enclosed is the remainder of Mickey Jacob's severance 
pay. As you are listed as Mr. Jacob's emergency contact, 
we trust you to remit this payment to him in our stead. 


It should be noted that despite Mr. Jacob's recent 
problems with drug addiction and sudden 
disappearance, we will be willing to provide rehabilitation 
services at any time should he return. 


Thank you for your time. 


Chief of Security Jonathan Bradley, Southern Crosscut 
Pines. 


We Interrupt this Program 


1. 


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