Ten paused. "But the Coalition will not come into open conflict with 
us so long as we don't represent an existential threat," she went on. 
"They prize secrecy too much. This is all theoretical." 


"It may be less theoretical very soon," the steel man said. "What 
about the ORIA?" 


"ORIA?" 


"Or, perhaps, the Horizon Initiative? The Insurgency, were it to 
receive a new swell of support? The Serpent's Hand? The Forgotten 
Sons? Even the UIU, with an influx of funding?" 


"| don't see..." Ten trailed off. 


"What if you provoke them to all move against the Foundation at the 
same time?" the steel man asked. "Who wins?" 


"| don't know." Ten felt a sinking feeling in her gut. "We can't know." 
"But you should be asking the question, nonetheless." 


Ten looked down at Nine again. As if in response, Nine pivoted 
away from the mountain. She faced the valley and raised her 
walking stick like Moses parting the Red Sea. 


The valley rumbled with thunder. The ground shook. In the distance, 
a vast plateau rose into the air. 


Ten watched in astonishment. 


The thunder grew louder, and then settled, along with the new 
forested mesa, in the center of the valley. Nine lowered her walking 
stick and stood over the valley, observing her apparent handiwork. 


Ten smiled. 


"There is another name you should consider, besides Eleven," the 
steel man said. "Kondraki." 


Ten shook her head. "I know Eight will make the comparison, but 
that's foolish. Kondraki destroyed Site-19 with intent. That is why he 
had to go." 


"Then why did the Council wait so long to order his assassination? 
What convinced them to finally act?" 


"I'm not certain precisely what you mean to imply," Ten said. 


"Of course you are certain." The steel man gave her a grin from his 
highest face. 


Ten turned away. She was certain. She just hadn't wanted to make 
the parallel. 


At the height of Kondraki's power within the Foundation, he had 
campaigned for weaponization of SCPs. He'd promoted the 
expansion of anomalous task forces like Omega-7 — and why 
wouldn't he, given his bond with SCP-408? He had begun to strike 
out on his own, without the rubber stamps of his higher-ups. 


The Council had feared he would start another Insurgency. They 
had concluded that he was too dangerous to let live. 


And then there were the other agents that Kondraki's death had 
silenced... 


"What do you recommend | do?" Ten asked. 


"What you should have done at the beginning. Go to the others. Ask 
for their support.” 


Ten nodded. "What else?" 


"Expect this to go badly for you." For the first time in the 
conversation, all of the masks were grinning. "And be very grateful if 
it does not." 


Number One With A Bullet 


Two Days Prior 


"You want The Suit?" the dog asked. "Are you sure?" 


"Adams is going to need it," Clef said, "especially if the Coalition 
starts stepping up their efforts." 


Professor Kain Pathos Crow gave a low, angry growl. He slapped 
his front paw against a button on his console, and the finally- 
completed Egg Walker folded up into its storage configuration and 
rolled up the ramp. "You should take her off the Task Force," he said 
angrily. "She's not ready." 


"She's going to be ready, Crow," Clef said. "And she's going to be 
one of the best assets the Foundation has ever had. Call it a hunch." 


"| don't intend to have my most important creation put at risk of 
destruction on one of your hunches, Clef," Professor Crow retorted. 
"| spent months... years..." 


"| Know what you're worried about," Clef interrupted. "But Adams 
can do it. She just needs that goddamn suit." 


Kain Pathos Crow gave his old friend(?) an angry glare. He glided 
his little hover-platform past a pair of large water tanks, where a 
couple of white-coated researchers were apparently conferring with 
a pair of nightmarish sea monsters with long tentacles and glowing 
spots all over their bodies. "Elliott!" he barked. 


"Yes, Kain?" A thirty-something woman stuck her head up from 
behind a desk where she had apparently been working ona 
computer. Her eyes were large and surprised looking, and she 
pushed her glasses up from where they had been sliding down her 


nose. 
"Would you get Dr. Clef the Suit?" Kain asked. 
"We're not completely done with..." 


"Yeah, we are," Kain said. "We don't need to put on all the markings 
and numbers. What we have now will suffice." 


"Right," Dr. Elliott said. She dashed into a back room, from which 
the sound of rummaging could soon be heard. 


"Isn't that the one who was with Adams and 105 in that stupid bar 
crawl incident?" Clef asked. 


"She was the getaway driver," Professor Crow replied, "and she's a 
damned good researcher too. Gonna take her away from me too?" 


"Not planning on it," Clef said. "The suit should do fine." 


"That's not what | meant," Professor Crow said. "They promised me 
that they'd reactivate Olympia. It's been days and | haven't heard 
anything else. What gives?" 


"A bit impatient, aren't we?" Clef laughed. "Look, | wouldn't worry too 
much yet. You'll get your girls back soon enough." 


Their conversation was interrupted by Dr. Elliott returning with a 
silver case under one arm and a sleek, black helmet under the 
other. "Here you go," she said, huffing and puffing. "There are 
flexible solar panels in the fabric: it should keep it going for most of 
the time, but you're going to have to plug it in every once in a whi—" 


"I'll figure it out," Clef said. "Thanks." He picked up the suitcase and 
helmet. "Hey, look on the bright side, Crow. If I'm wrong, we'll all 
probably die, then you can tell me, ‘I told you so." 


"Only if all dogs don't go to heaven," Kain said, deadpan. 


Day 1 


"All right, Adams," the voice over the loudspeaker said. "How do you 
like the suit?" 


"| look like a video game character," Adams complained. The suit 
was form-fitting, and jet black, and a bit shiny, too: supposedly from 
the flexible photoelectric cells embedded into the fabric. The "sexy 
spy catsuit" look alone was enough to make Adams cringe, but then 
there were the faintly glowing bits, and the dark red decorative 
piping... "What the hell is this thing?" 


"Leftovers from an abandoned project from the Omega-Seven era," 
Clef said. "It's a bit complicated, but think of it as enhanced combat 
armor." 


"Okay," Adams said, raising her hands and clenching her fists. 
Despite the tight fit, the suit didn't seem to restrict her movements. 
"Will Alpha-Niner be issued these too?" 


"Nope. Just you,” Clef said. "Technically, everything in that room is 
subject to Special Containment Procedures. The Procedures in this 
case are, 'lf Adams breaks or loses them, she's in deep shit.' So 
take care of them, capisce?" 


"Yes, sir," Adams said, putting as much sarcasm as she could into 
her salute. 


Clef chuckled. "All right. We'll start with sensory input. Put on the 
helmet, close your eyes, and count to ten. By the time you open 
them, the vision systems should have activated." 


Adams slid the helmet on over her head and locked it into place. It fit 
snugly, as if it were made for her (and it almost certainly was). She 
followed Clef's instructions and closed her eyes... 


Ten. 
Nine. 
Eight. 
Seven. 
Six. 
Five. 
Four. 


Three. 
Two. 


"One." 
Adams opened her eyes. 
Something behind her eyes went click. 


The world exploded into painful color. The light didn't so much 
pierce her eyes as barrel through like a juggernaut. Adams 
staggered, her optic nerves ablaze with an overload of information. 
She clawed at the faceplate of the featureless black helmet, 
struggling to get it off, get it off, get it— 


"ADAMS." Clef said. His voice was painfully loud. "ADAMS. LISTEN 
TO ME. FOCUS. CONCENTRATE. CONCENTRATE ON MY 
VOICE." 


She closed her eyes again. Took deep breaths. Tried to drown out 
the pounding of her terrified heart through force of will. "Too much... 
too much color!" she gasped. "Can't... can't see..." 


"Adams, listen to me! It's feeding information directly into your visual 
cortex! Everything from gamma rays through infrared! You just need 
to filter!" 


"Don't... Know how..." Adams wept as she pounded the visor of her 
helmet against the concrete floor. The blurring of her tears twisted 
her vision further, which didn't help her current situation at all. 
"Can't... can't control..." 


"Yes, you can," Clef snapped. "It's just like going from a dark room 
into a lighted one. Your eyes will change the way they see the light. 
Your brain will change the way it processes the information. You just 
need to give it time to get used to it. Open your eyes, Adams. Don't 
be afraid." His voice took on a sneering, condescending tone. "Or 
are you just an air-headed office bunny like everyone thinks you 
are?" 


Oh, fuck you, Clef. 


Raising her eyelids those few scant millimeters was the most 
terrifying thing she'd ever done. When she did, she wanted to 
scream. She didn't do it. She refused to let that smiling asshole see 
her weakness again. 


The explosion of information... didn't quite lessen. More like she 
grew accustomed to the insane amount of data pouring into her 
brain. She started picking out the important bits, filtering the junk, 
disregarding the noise to focus on the data. In a few moments, she 
was able to stand, breathe, slow her racing heart back into 
something resembling its normal resting rate. 


She looked up at the observation room with its bulletproof window. 
"Dr. Clef?" 


A metallic click. "Yes, Adams?" 


"Please don't insult the office assistants again, or I'll report you to 
our superiors for another round of sensitivity training." 


She heard Clef chuckle. "Understood, Adams." 


Day 2 


"All right, Adams," Clef said. "Seems like you've gotten the hang of 
the first part of what the helmet can help you do. Now it's time for 
the second part." 


Up in the observation lounge, the window turned black as a 
polarizing light filter activated. One of the walls of the test chamber 
lit up, displaying a swirling pattern of lights. 


Adams immediately recognized the distinctive orchid-and-worms 
pattern of a Berryman-Langford Memetic Hazard. She let out a 
shriek of surprise and closed her eyes. 


"Open your eyes, Adams," Clef ordered. 


"Are you fucking insane!?" Adams shouted. "With a live cog-hazard 
in the same room as me?" 


Experiment 702-026 


Name of Researcher: Dr. 

Interacting Personnel: D-48892 

Object Traded: 5 kilograms of rodent food. 
Object Received: one (1) adult female brown rat. 


Notes: Got a use for that cage now. 


Experiment 702-027 


Name of Researcher: Dr. 
Interacting Personnel: D-48892 
Object Traded: one (1) model car, of the brand 


Object Received: one (1) model truck, of a different brand than the 
original. 


Notes: None. 


Experiment 702-028 


Name of Researcher: Doctor 
Interacting Personnel: D-52682 


Object Traded: One (1) brand fishing pole, with two hundred 
(200) feet of fishing line, one hook, with live worm bait on the end. 


Object Received: Three (3) Striped Bass (Morone saxatilis), 
weighing exactly 9.07185 kilograms (20 pounds) each. 


Notes: The fish were fried by Doctor _ , and shared with the team 
assigned to SCP-702. According to Doctor __, they were delicious. 


"You will be protected from its harmful effects," Clef said. "Open 
your eyes." 


Adams opened her eyes. 


It wasn't that she wasn't being affected by the deadly pattern swirling 
on the screen. It was more that she could recognize what it was 
trying to do, and was able to deny it. The image on the wall was 
trying to tell her heart to stop, but like a child putting her fingers in 
her ears and yelling loudly, she could somehow drown out that 
voice. 


"Congratulations, Adams," Clef said. "You are now one of the few 
un-innoculated people to ever see a Berryman-Langford Memetic 
Kill Agent and live. What's it like?" 


"Why don't you clear your windows and see for yourself?" 


Clef chuckled. "I think I'll pass. All right. Let's try some audio hazards 
next, then we're going to repeat yesterday's exercises on ultraviolet 
and upper EM-spectrum tracking." 


"| think I'm starting to get the hang of it," Adams said. "Though | 
think infrared would be more useful. Not many humans give off 
ultraviolet or gamma rays." 


"I've got my reasons, Adams. I'll explain later. For now, let's continue 
the lesson..." 


Day 3 


"All right, Adams," Clef said. "I think that's enough for the helmet. 
Now it's time to test the suit." 


He pressed a button, and a minigun popped out of a hatch on the 
other side of the room and opened fire. Adams tumbled back as the 
force of the bullets knocked her to the ground, pummeling her with 
supersonic projectiles. "| get it!" she shouted. "The suit's bulletproof, 
let me up!" 


"Of course the suit's bulletproof," Clef said. "That's just the first part 
of the test." 


Another hatch popped open, and the muzzle of a large caliber anti- 
materiel rifle emerged from a gun port in the wall. 


Oh shit, Adams thought. 
The rifle fired. 
Something behind her eyes went click. 


Adams felt the round punch into her left arm. She felt the pain for an 
instant, then it was as if all the agony just... went away. She knew 
her arm was hurting. She didn't care. 


It was just pain. 


The rifle's muzzle turned. The next round hit her in the forehead, 
then the back of her head hit the ground. She shook her head as 
stars exploded behind her eyes. 


Up above her, a ceiling panel opened up. 
Then a grand piano fell on her. 


The minigun ceased firing. The rifle pulled back behind the gun port. 
There was only silence, broken by the sound of hot brass clattering 
to the concrete floor. 


With the sound of snapping piano strings, a fist punched through the 
splintered wood, followed by another fist, then a head and 
shoulders. 


"All right," Clef said. "Let's review: the suit will stop penetration, 
although not impact, of rounds up to .50 caliber Browning. It will also 
stiffen against broader-area impacts. Also, it will enhance your 
strength and speed up to—" 


Half of a shattered piano smashed against the observation deck 
window. 


Clef chuckled. "| guess you found that out already. Next exercise...’ 


Day 4 
"All right, Adams," Clef said. "Let's talk guns." 


"Are you going to shoot me again?" She was still pissed about the 
piano thing. 


"No. Today, you're going to be the one doing the shooting." 


One of the walls slid open, revealing a firing range beyond. The 
walls and ceiling were covered in what appeared to be battleship 
armor, and the bullet trap was a long, heavily armored cone the 
length of a football field. 


"There's a Mark-7 sidearm on the firing line," Clef said. "Go ahead 
and load it." 


Adams walked to the firing line, picked up the pistol, checked the 
chamber and magazine. "Should be a piece of cake," she said, as 
the slide snapped home. "I've always been good at marksmanship. 


"| Know," Clef said. "But this drill is a bit different. Pop-up targets at 
unknown ranges. Your goal is to place ten rounds into each. 
Ready?" 


"Ready," Adams said, taking up her firing stance. 
"Begin." 


The red light lit up, and the speakers let out a buzz. A small white 
circle, about the width of a baseball, flipped up at the end of a metal 
arm. 


Adams raised the pistol and tracked the target, lining up the front 
sight with the center of the circle. She exhaled halfway, took up the 
slack on the trigger— 


The target dropped away. The red light flashed and the speakers 


buzzed. 
"Zero points," Clef said. "Next target." 
"What? Wai—" 


Another target flipped up on the end of a metal arm. Adams brought 
the weapon around, lined it up... 


The target fell away. Red light. Buzz.