Karlyle glanced sideways at Joshua who, despite being seemingly 
unmoved, had at some point moved his hand to rest on his weapon. 
Pan Hun continued. 


"You are so certain that because you were capable of dragging the 


Note: This interview was taken shortly after initial containment, and 
prior to current containment procedures. 


Interviewer: Dr. 

Subject: SCP-706 

Date: / / 

Note: Interview conducted within SCP-706's containment 
cell. SCP-706 is seated at a table, brushing its hair while 
examining itself in a vanity mirror. 

Transcript: 


Dr. : Do you have any idea how this happened? 
SCP-706: Because | wanted to be a doll. 

Dr. : Why is that? 

SCP-706: My mom had dolls. Lots of dolls, old dolls. 
Dr. : Tell me about them. 


SCP-706: She kept them in a glass case. She showed 
me them when | was little, told me how much they meant 
to her. How much she loved them. 


Dr. : But you wouldn't want to be locked in a glass 
case, would you? Why did you want to be a doll? 


SCP-706: Because she loved them. Because mommy 
loved them, and daddy loved her, and if | could be like a 
doll then she would love me too... 


SCP-706: ...dolls don't cry... they don't need to be fed or 
cleaned after or taken care of... they just sit, beautiful 
and perfect... 


SCP-706: ...if | was perfect and beautiful, then 
everything would be okay... if | were like a doll then they 
wouldn't have to fight any more, and we could be a 
normal family and we would be happy... 


SCP-706: ...| just want to go home... mommy... please, 


Assyrian into the light and making him dance for a short time, that 
you can do the same with all of the toys in your boxes." His wide 
smile grew wider, and Karlyle could see the corners of his mouth 
beginning to tear. "I think you will find that many of those toys are 
not as nice as Able, doctor." 


Karlyle grimaced. "I take that as your unwillingness to move forward, 
then?" 


Pan Hun's eyes locked on Karlyle. "You know, we are not so 
different, Karlyle. Both of us are bound into systems we did not 
choose to be in, but regardless ended up here due to our own 
actions. Both of us have lived longer than any might have expected, 
given the circumstances. | wonder how you would feel if somebody 
showed up and asked if you wanted to play puppet for your 
Overseers." 


"Dr. Boff," Joshua said, his voice a hiss, "I believe we're done here." 


Pan Hun's face grew still, the smile gone. "Oh no. You asked for a 
demonstration, and you will have it." 


The growing feeling of discomfort in Karlyle's stomach suddenly 
erupted into agony. 


Karlyle collapsed to the ground, screaming. Without a word, Joshua 
pulled his weapon, but found that his hands had grown over the 
trigger and were useless. He called out to Boff in German, and the 
doctor roared in fury. 


Pan Hun seemed to grow larger, expanding by way of dozens of 
long, wet appendages that appeared all over his body. Boff 
squeezed tight around the creature's neck as it flailed at him, and 
with a crack he whipped Pan Hun into the ceiling with a flick of his 
massive arm. The sound of the child striking the ceiling rang out like 
a gunshot, and was followed by the sound of something vile crawling 
out of Karlyle's stomach. 


It was humanoid, but too fleshy and lacking in facial features. Karlyle 
opened his eyes and mouth long enough to see it and cry out, 


before collapsing entirely in a pool of his own blood. The creature 
within him dragged the rest of itself out from the doctor, and turned 
to face Joshua. 


With Boff swinging Pan Hun wildly into the walls of the cavern and 
the creature quickly closing distance, Joshua reached down and 
began to tear away at the extra flesh over his hands with his teeth. 
He backed slowly, keeping one eye on the flesh-beast and another 
on his own viscera. He spat the chunks of his hands onto the ground 
and continued to dig until he felt the sensation of steel on his 
tongue. 


Joshua brought the weapon to his face and steadied his aim. The 
creature raised its arms just as Joshua distended his mouth wide 
enough to fit around the accessible trigger of the gun. He hesitated 
for a second, and then two, until he could feel the heat of the 
creature's body against his own, and then he bit down. 


A hole opened where the monster's head had been, and Joshua 
heard the satisfying gurgle of blood and air mixing. A normal man 
might have found the recoil enough to shatter his teeth and mutilate 
his jaw, but Joshua was no normal man. 

He bit down again, and then again, and the creature fell to the 
ground. Joshua lifted his foot and then drove it through the 
humanoid's torso with a sound like popping a balloon full of paint. 


He turned then to Dr. Boff, who was losing his struggle with the child 
in his grasp. Lacerations covered his already twisted form, and Pan 
Hun continued to strike and slice the flesh of the doctor, who 
groaned in pain. 


Joshua took two steps forward, pulled his weapon to his face again, 
and bit down on the open trigger. 


Pan Hun screamed as its torso exploded and it's legs fell limp. 
Joshua took another step forward and fired again, this time splitting 
the child's face in two. 


Pan Hun turned a single working eye towards Joshua, and lashed at 
him with a black, fleshy appendage. Joshua caught it with his mouth 
and lunged backwards, tearing it off and causing Pan Hun to 


murmur out in agony. 


Joshua spat to clear his mouth of gore, and shouted at Boff to move 
Pan Hun closer. The doctor complied, and soon the ruptured body of 
the Lonely Liar hung before Joshua like a marionette. He studied the 
writhing creature for a moment, and then leaned in to face it directly. 


"There is a hole in this world much darker than the one you have 
been rotting in," he said, blood dripping from his open mouth, "and 
do not think | am above burying you in it." He saw panic creep into 
Pan Hun's eyes. "You know the one. The sanctuary of sundered 
hearts. There will be nothing for you to twist there in the darkness." 


Boff's eyes glazed over, and he began speaking in Pan Hun's voice. 
"What is it you desire?" 


Joshua nodded at Karlyle and Boff. "Undo your twisting, or | will put 
another shell in you now and let you bleed all the way to the Door. 
When you are done, return to your pit and stay there until the stars 
go out." 


Pan Hun's single eye raged with a silent violence, but dimmed. The 
lacerations on Boff's body closed and sealed, and Joshua began to 
hear Karlyle breathing again behind him. He nodded to Boff, who 
began to lower the child back into the pit of water. As it sunk, Joshua 
gazed at Pan Hun and smiled coldly. 


"You were right about there being less kind monsters in the world 
than Able, Liar," Joshua said, malice creeping into his voice. "It is a 
shame you had to meet one so soon." 


Pan Hun glared at him as it slipped below the still surface of the 
pool, and watched him until it disappeared from sight in the 
darkness of the deep. 


Hours later, the security team emerged and Karlyle was moved 
quickly to the infirmary. His eyes, glazed over as they were, opened 
for moment to see Joshua staring down at him. Karlyle's body shook 
as he tried to make words, but he slipped in and out of 
consciousness, unable to finish. 


As his old body began to give out, and as medical personnel 
swarmed him, Karlyle watched Joshua disappear behind a flap in 
the tent. He distantly heard the sound of a phone being dialed and 
Joshua's muted voice again, and Karlyle tried to call out to him. 


A mask was placed over his face, and the world went black. 


Back Alley Deals 


Anderson Massey suppressed a shudder as he stepped through the 
doorway. On the other (the proper) side of the door, it was an 
elegant Georgian style paneled door with an elegant entablature. On 
this side, it was plain wood, with cracked and faded paint. It was 
also about thirty degrees colder, with a light fog. 


"Right, let's go," he said to the guide, a thickset man in a much 
cheaper suit. 


The guide was one of many "specialists" employed by Marshall, 
Carter and Dark. No one who worked for the Company could ever 
be described as shabby, but his dark blue coat was a few shades 
cheaper than Massey's, and the cigar was cheap, with noxious 
smoke. The man grunted behind a grey scarf, and set out down the 
alley. 


It was always an alley in the Shadow Market. There were no main 
streets, just narrow alleyways winding their way between the brick 
buildings with boarded-up windows and locked doors that hid 
whatever it was the Minders kept in there. 


Massey hated the place. It wasn't that it was outside the world he 
knew. That was part and parcel of working for the Company. No, he 
hated its shabbiness. It was a low-class world designed for low-lifes. 
He belonged in his office or the board room, not trudging down a 
muddy alley under a dingy twilight with ever-present smoke hanging 
in the air with the smell of tobacco and coal. Gentlemen should not 
trudge anywhere. They should stride, with purpose. 


He stepped in something he couldn't quite see, and bit off a curse. 
"Not so quickly," he said, his voice sharp. "These streets are a 
bloody mire, and some of us take care of our appearance." 


"Whatever," the man said from behind the scarf. He'd said hardly a 
dozen words since they'd been introduced. 


Massey narrowed his eyes. "I'd watch my tone if | were you. Unless 
you'd care to find alternate employment." An innocent phrase, 
outside of the Company. Within it... Well, no one ever left the 
company of their own will, and a person could be employed in so 
many ways. 


The man simply grunted. Massey ground his teeth. He would have 
to arrange something unpleasant. Specialists were useful, but they 
had to know their place. 


Occasionally, they passed someone else on their way to an errand. 
Sometimes they were Minders, in their grey leathers and brass, 
smoked goggles. Sometimes it was a man from the normal world, 
shoulders hunched, eyes darting from place to place. Sometimes it 
was something more... exotic. Tall and thin, or short, squat and 
scaled. 


Finally, the guide stopped at the entrance to a short, narrow blind 
alley. "There," he said. 


"Well, thank you very much!" Massey said, indignation thick on his 
voice. "Wait here, and don't let me catch you listening on. This is a 
highly sensitive meeting, and you're not paid to eavesdrop." 


The man grunted. 


Massey walked to the end of the alley and waited. Naturally, it 
started to rain. By the time the droplets of water made it through the 
smoke and past the leaning rooftops, they were a dingy grey. He 
shivered and wrapped his coat a little tighter. He wished, now, that 
he'd gone with a coat a bit more like the guide. It would need careful 
laundering, and that was if it was salvageable. Back-alley deals 
weren't supposed to be quite this literal. 


His guide could be seen only by the faint red pinprick at the end of 
his cigar. 


After a few minutes, he realized he wasn't alone. 


Two Minders were waiting with him. Neither turned to look at him, 
nor did they say a word. They didn't show any discomfort from the 


rain, though it was hard to tell with their eyes hidden beneath 
smoked-glass lenses. Only their noses and mouths showed that 
they were human. Or at least had human-like mouths and noses. No 
one he'd spoken with was entirely sure on that point. 


Massey thought about asking them what they were doing there, but 
decided it wasn't worth the bother. 


Finally, after Massey was thoroughly soaked, a handsome looking 
man entered the alley. His name was Mr. Fire, though he 
pronounced it "Fear-a." His smile was a touch too shiny, and his suit 
(much nicer than Massey's) appeared perfectly clean, if a bit damp. 
He carried a travel case at his side. 


"Anderson!" he said. "| saw you, what, two months ago? How's the 
wife? Kid starting softball soon?" 


Massey forced a smile. He'd never told Fire about his wife or child. 
"They're fine, fine. Thank you for asking.” 


"You got here a bit early," Fire said. "Should have called. | could 
have left a bit sooner, saved you a bit of a soaking." 


"Oh, it's no trouble. Besides, | know it's a bit of a hike," Massey said. 
That was something he'd been briefed on by another one of the 
company's specialists. "We walks everywhere. Everywhere. Cars 
and planes, trains and armored carriers, all at his disposal, and 
stranger means besides, and he walks. From one end of the world 
to another, however fast he needs to, arriving just when he intends." 


"Well, what's done is done. Gents, glad you could make it as well." 
He turned to the Minders. 


"You paid,” one of them said, shrugging. The shoulders didn't move 
quite right, Massey thought. 


The specialist who had brought Massey was moving in closer now. 
Massey felt a twist of annoyance, but also a bit of comfort. He 
suddenly felt very exposed with the two Minders as well as Mr. Fire 
there. He wished he'd been a little more polite to the man, but 
anyone who worked for MC&D was professional enough to get on 


with a job despite that. And anyway, an executive ranked far above 
any common thug, no matter how talented. 


"Always pay your creditors when you can, or you'll pay even more 
when you can't," Fire said. "Did you bring it?" 


In response, the Minder pulled out a broken pocket watch. 
Presumably it was a dream or a memory. Massey had been briefed 
on that. They could take on almost any form, from old casettes to 
tourist trinkets to worn coins. In Carter's office was a fragment of 
obsidian which was supposedly the oldest memory the Minders had 
ever stolen. 


Fire took it from the Minder and showed it to Massey. The jangling of 
the chain echoed faintly with a man's laughter, and he could just 
make out a smiling face in the shining surface. 


"What is it?" Massey asked. His eyes darted to the specialist, who 
was now hovering behind the smiling man. 


"A memory," Fire said. "Fresh from the Black Queen's mind. You've 
had some trouble with her in the past." 


"Not as much as you," Massey said, suspiciously. 


"Ah, but | already have the information from this memory. It might do 
you a bit more good. | think it should cover the records we discussed 
and then some." 


"We didn't discuss any—" Massey began. 


"It's a deal," the heavyset man said. "The records from the camp 
tomorrow, and the rest paid later." 


Massey glanced back at the heavyset man. He'd hardly said a word 
on the way in. What was he doing? 


"Glad to hear it! And great to see you out of that chair and back on 
your feet." Fire said. "Tell you what, though. I've grown rather fond of 
Andy here. Throw him in and we'll call it even." 


To Massey's growing confusion and horror, the heavyset man 


nodded, spat into one massive hand, and held it out. Fire returned 
the gesture. 


The heavyset man made a gesture then, a peculiar one, and 
Massey felt his legs give way beneath him. His eyelids felt strangely 
heavy. 


"Delivery will be the usual place,” the heavyset man said. "And there 
had better be no tricks, Four." 


"Tricks? Never." As he started losing consciousness, Massey heard 
the smiling man laugh. "Would | cheat my good friend Carter?" 


Back in the office, Carter carefully put the memory away. It could be 
reviewed later. For now, the Happy Acres incident needed his 
attention. 


Every good company needs to do three things to succeed: handle 
the money, deal with the customers, and do the work. Marshall dealt 
with the customers: he would be consoling grieving parents and 
smoothing ruffled feathers. Carter handled the rest. Let Dark stew in 
whatever hell he came from. Let Marshall be the smiling face of the 
corporation. They couldn't do shit without Carter.