She knew that something would happen. Had known ever since the 
countermeme was detected that this would be a global threat. 
Somehow this didn't make hearing it any easier. More silence. More 
calculations. 


"Then we must execute that procedure." Fine's words, heavy and 
grim, expanded and filled the room. 


"Do you mean...?" Lieutenant Dean left the question to linger, afraid 
to even say the words. 


"| do. We are out of alternatives." Fine turned from the window, 
looking Lieutenant Dean in the eyes. She saw a young man, naive 
and afraid. 


She turned back to the window, back to her thoughts. The sun 
shined on her again. Were there really no other options? No. There 
weren't. This was the only chance. Humanity's only chance. The 
world weighed heavy on the shoulders of this woman judging the 
future of humanity. The next words were quiet. Still firm, but quiet. 


"Execute Procedure Pizzicato." 


The sun rose to mark the new doomsday. 


From the PHYSICS division field manual: 


Procedure 


-Activate all sleeper units in rival agencies. 


The emptied hallways of Site-85 echoed with 
steady steps. Researcher Vongvichit hurried 
through a cold hallway, passing under a looming 


Foundation logo as she reached the front desk. 
The receptionist offered a tired greeting, falling 
on distracted ears as the researcher passed by, 
turning into another winding corridor. She too 
was tired, but fascination filled her mind much 
more than the need for sleep. Between identical 
doors and signs, the studious scientist was lost 
in thoughts. 


Her site director had recently been handed a file 
displaying statistics from the nearby forest as a 
sort of test. She couldn’t work on the SCP 
present there unless she identified the anomaly 
present in the data. Researcher Vong mentally 
recalled figures and charts as she marched 
swiftly to the office. All researchers with 
environmental science specialties had also 
received the same papers, but space was limited 
in the project. Of course, the threat of personal 
danger came with being accepted into it, but 
almost all of the researchers at Site 85 were 
desperate to get out of paperwork duty. 
Researcher Vong was no exception. It certainly 
seemed like a trivial process compared to just 
choosing researchers for the project, but it 
wasn’t her choice. The office had only a few 
researchers at this time of night, typing away at 
computers or reading papers as she pulled into 
her desk. 


The familiar packet lay in front of her as she took 
her seat, facing her as if in opposition. She 
opened it again, peering through the neon yellow 
highlights and scratchy annotations. If there was 
an anomaly, it should be obvious. A blatant 
mistake. But there was nothing out of the 
ordinary here. Everything was predictably 
constant. Plant growth and animal populations 
barely even fluctuated. Researcher Vong sighed, 
pulling back from the report. She knew that there 


were researchers who had already cracked the 
packet hours after obtaining it, so it must have 
been obvious. She prepped herself for another 
comprehensive read-through, purposely 
oblivious to the other piles of paper that would 
have filled her schedule. 


It was mundane stuff. Researcher Vong had to 
actively fight off the urge to sleep at this late 
hour. But persevering, she got through the whole 
document a third time. As usual, there was 
nothing. Feeling less hopeful than ever, she 
pushed the papers aside. 


A thought popped into here head. She pulled the 
papers back. It was the footnotes. She hadn't 
read the footnotes. Why didn’t she ever check 
the footnotes? She mentally berated herself as 
she flipped through to the last page. Minutes of 
careful reading ensued, until Researcher Vong 
saw the line: 


27. Interference with local plant and 
animal life can also be attributed to 
human development. In 2012, a zone 
including one-third of the forest’s total 
area was demolished for housing. 


Bingo. That had to be it. Throughout the reports, 
everything remained completely stable. If a third 
of the forest was destroyed, why wasn’t it 
reflected in any of the data? How could this 
forest act completely unchanged after such an 
event? This is where the anomaly was in the 
data. A small chuckle came from Researcher 
Vong’s mouth as she got up to report to the head 
scientist and, hopefully, get that spot in the 
project. 


Dr. Adam was having a relatively easy day. He 
had just filled up his research project with 


talented new scientists, and all that was left to do 
in the day was complete the paperwork for it. 
Then the research would start and the fun begin. 
Somehow, he’d managed to gather some of the 
most important scientists in the whole area, all 
working on his discovery. In all honesty, Dr. 
Adam really did enjoy the discovery of a new 
SCP. The unexplainable marvels of the world 
were out there, waiting to be discovered and 
tested. It made for an interesting job, as long as 
they weren't dangerous. Dr. Adam hated the 
dangerous ones. 


The paperwork-filling and thinking was cut short 
by a knock on the door. 


“Come in.” He saw the door open and a short, 
upright woman come through. She looked 
familiar, he’d definitely seen her around sight. 
What was her name? 


“Hello Researcher Vin,” he said cautiously. He 
added in an uncertain smile. 


“Hi Dr. Adam. It’s Vong, but that’s alright. I’ve 
read the packet and believe I’ve identified the 
anomalous data.” Dr. Vong excitedly stated. 


Dr. Adam’s first thought was “Damn, did | forget 
to announce the project was filled?” His next 
thought was “Damn, do | have to tell this 
researcher she can’t work on the project?” Dr. 
Adam let out a sigh. 


“I’m sorry, but the project’s been filled.” He could 
see her enthusiasm fall as he said the words. 


“| see. Well, have a nice day.” Researcher Vong 
mustered up a little bit of warmth in the 
statement as she left the room. 


Dr. Adam sighed again, pulling up the files on 
Researcher Vong on the nearby desktop. 
According to the files, she was good. A diligent 
scientist with a specialty in environmental 
sciences. If he didn’t already have so many other 
talented environmental scientists, she’d be great 
for the project. It was a shame, really. 


Dr. Adam was surprised by a single beep from 
the small digital watch on his arm. Peering down, 
the current time flashed on and off across the 
tiny screen. He snapped away from the 
computer instantly, standing from his chair to 
lock to the door with careful rapidity. His face 
was grim and alert. He settled back down and 
took the watch off his arm onto the smooth oak 
desk. His fingers went to work tapping the 
corners of the rectangular device. 


He clicked each corner with the preciseness of a 
machine. Top left. Bottom right. Top Left. Top 
Right. Top Right. Bottom right. And so on. In 
time, the screen transformed into a black and 
green grid. Dr. Adam pressed his finger onto the 
new scanner. Thick black words flashed onto the 
screen. 


They flashed once. Twice. A third time, and they 
were gone, replaced by a simple black-and-white 
10:46. Dr. Adam unlocked his door and left his 
office. He had all the best scientists under his 
wing now, but he couldn't watch them alone. 


Researcher Vong was on her way out of the 
facility when Dr. Adam intercepted her. 


“Researcher Vong? | believe there may be a 
change in my project’s lineup.” 


“Hm?” Researcher Vong looked at him 
quizzically. This was a fast turnaround. 


“I’m saying you now have a spot. Welcome to 
the project. Here are some papers you should be 
familiarized with. Work starts tomorrow.” Dr. 
Adam handed her a short stack of documents. 


“Wow. Thank you. | must say | wasn’t expecting 
such a quick change of mind.” 


“Well, sometimes new situations can arise very 
quickly.” 


The office was empty at this hour. Regardless, 
Dr. Adam pulled in close to Researcher Vong as 
he whispered the next words. 


“Keep an eye on the others around you. Report 
back to me regularly. Stay vigilant.” 


“Understood.” As Researcher Vong replied, she 
pulled up the sleeve of her coat just a tad. A 
small, black digital watch rested on her arm. The 
watch was identical to Dr. Adam's. 


Alert all allied government agencies and allied government official 


In an important building, far away from modern 
society, rows of tables created a vast semicircle 
around a raised platform at the center of a large 
room. Suits filled with aged men and women 
shuffled around the area, finding seats and 
speaking with each other. There was an 
oppressive, gloomy silence that filled the hall, 
stifling most conversation. There were not many 
smiles. There were many grimaces. 


The small sound of conversation died down as a 
tall woman in a suit as black as space took the 
podium. She stood silently upright as the blue 
Global Occult Coalition logo appeared on the 
screen behind her. 


“If you are here, then you know our organization. 
You may not all be on the best terms with us, but 
you know who we are, and you know the 
paranormal, parascientific and paratemporal 
threats this world has. Some of you are from 
established nations. Others, from paranormal 
organizations. All of you, however, are important 
people who run this world. Now, we need you to 
protect this world.” 


The slide changed to a graphic of a head with an 
exclamation point covering the mouth. The black 
shapes carved heavy figures on the yellow 
background. 


“In response to a rapidly-growing, uncontained 
memetic agent, we have indeed activated 
Procedure Pizzicato. Everyone in this room 
should have the proper documents regarding 
what this means. This memetic agent can travel 
across visual and auditory forms of information, 
infecting individuals and robbing them not just of 
the ability to understand all forms of 
communication, but also to convey any 
information themselves. Any form of contact with 
this ‘countermeme,’ as we have called it, will 
result in infection and communication failure. As 
we have said earlier, this countermeme is not 
only uncontained, but also rapidly spreading. We 
estimate there are currently infected individuals 
in every country.” 


A chorus of raised voices filled the room. Worry 
and anger presented itself in myriad ways across 
a variety of voices. They crescendoed to a peak 


before the stern amplified voice of D.C. al Fine 
broke the panic. 


“Settle down. Settle down!” 


The severe voice boomed across the hall, 
ushering a wave of silence. An aged figure clad 
in white vestments remained standing. On his 
head rested a miter clad with a red cross. He 
spoke in eloquent Italian, which a younger, 
similarly-clad man next to him translated. 


“With all due respects, D.C. Al Fine, we seek 
further understanding. The Holy Order of Knights 
Templar must inquire as to the origin of this 
entity.” 


“Patriarch Gallo of the Knights Templar, please 
be seated. We currently understand that the 
anartist group Are We Cool Yet? is the originator 
of this countermemetic invasion.” 


More hushed talking across the hall. Another 
person stood, this one a brown-skinned, balding 
man clad in a white achkan. 


“Is there any more information available 
pertaining to the countermeme threat? How 
many has it infected? Where is it concentrated?” 
He spoke in a thick Indian accent. 


“His Excellency Ra-“ 


“What does Are We Cool Yet? seek from this 
attack? Do they have conditions?” A suited man 
with a French accent interrupted. More 
individuals joined in, throwing questions into the 
air. The chorus of confusion returned to drown 
the room in sound. 


D.C. Al Fine’s next words were loud and acerbic. 


“Silence!” 


The audience in the hall obeyed. The words that 
followed were sharp and exact. 


“We understand that this situation is regrettable. 
More than anyone else, we do. We would not 
have called this meeting if it weren’t absolutely 
necessary. Now, let us establish the necessary 
procedures to contain and eliminate this world 
threat. We are certain that the countermeme is 
uncontrollable, and that elimination is the only 
possible solution. Being the foremost authority 
on both parathreats and their destruction, the 
Global Occult Coalition will require a higher 
degree of freedom in order to establish global 
safety. Every person here should have a 
document on their desk regarding the exact 
requirements needed of you.” 


Silence again. The shuffling of papers soon filled 
the room. More silence. Whispers to secretaries 
and assistants. As fearful as it was, this was 
indeed the calm before the storm. 


-Mobilize all PHYSICS teams. 
"Shit, I'm itching all over." 


Ten figures in black combat suits sat in the dark. 
The sound of an engine droned in the 
background as the seated soldiers bumped to 
the rhythm of an unsteady road. 


"New suit?" Asked one of the seated figures. He 
was tall and well-built. A large rifle rested in his 
dark hands. 


"New operative." Replied another. She had a 
mouth shaped by constant scowling and a face 
covered in scars. 


Date: 2/24/17 
Total Items: One (1) unloaded electric airsoft M16 Rifle 


Input: 1 unloaded electric airsoft M16 Rifle 
Setting: 1:1 

Output: One (1) Pull-action crossbow with a hollow 
stock, three (3) carbon fiber bolts with an electronic 
device serving as a bolt head. 


Notes: The mass of the bolts was equal to that of the 
Original gun’s stock, which appeared to be made of 
carbon fiber. Researcher suspects that the device serves 
as a tracker but has no means of confirming it without 
potentially compromising the product. 


Input: One (1) of said carbon fiber bolts 

Setting: Fine 

Output: A single construction bolt with some sort of 
mechanism on it. 


Notes: Experimentation has revealed that the bolt is self 
screwing, using what is likely a small motor. The self 
screwing takes effect after light manual labor is applied. 


Name: Dr. Hertz 

Date: //20 

Total Items: Four (4) assorted recordable compact-discs 
(CD-Rs) containing music samples 


Input: One CD-R, containing a recording of Creedence 
Clearwater Revival's Fortunate Son (1969) 

Setting: Rough 

Output: One CD-R, containing a recording of Fortunate 
Son, later identified as being covered by The Shaggs, a 
1960's rock band known for terrible performances. 
Notably, The Shaggs were not known to have ever 
performed this song. 


Input: One CD-R, containing a recording of Neil 
Diamond's /'m a Believer (1967). 


"Shit. They're seriously bringing you here for 
your first operation?" Asked the tall one. 


"Yeah. What's the problem? It just looks like 
we're stuck with some quarantine duty." Said the 
original speaker. He was skinnier and younger 
than the others, and had a pale complexion. 


The tall one sighed. 
"What's your name, son?" 
"Bradley Jones." 


The scarred soldier turned her attention back to 
the conversation. 


"| recognize you. Sap, wasn't it?" She remarked 
with a mocking tone. Jones looked down and 
sighed reluctantly at the statement. 


"I'm not going to outlive that name, am |?" 


Seven other soldiers remained silent. Some of 
them were too afraid of their future. Some simply 
didn't care. 


"Sap? What's that about?" The tall one asked. 


"Skinny and pathetic. He had a hard time with 
the training course." The scarred one answered. 


"Dammit, | finished the course! | passed my 
training, didn't |?" Sap yelled. 


No one responded. The air in the back of the 
truck was heavy. One soldier with a large mole 
beside his eye was whispering a prayer toa 
cross on anecklace. That, and the roar of the 
engine, were the only sounds for a while. Sap 
broke the silence. 


"Well, while we're all sharing names, who're 
you?" He directed his question to the tall soldier. 


"Mark." 
"Mark?" 


"Yeah, as in | never miss mine." A slight smile 
played across his lips. The scarred soldier called 
him out.