After recovering the crew of the downed plane, agents set up a 
perimeter and were able to observe the epicenter of SCP-804's 
effect. The surviving population of had crowded around the 
remains of the device. All subjects observed were severely 
emaciated and suffering from severe hypothermia. Exposure had 
only worsened the effect of SCP-804 and many subjects were 
observed with missing digits and even limbs. The survivors were 
approaching the device in teams of two to three to push at the single 
remaining globe within SCP-804's housing in order to maintain its 
effect. As each subject eventually succumbed and collapsed, 
another from the crowd of onlookers would shuffle forward to take 
their place. Survivors were seen to be cheering and encouraging 
those who were maintaining the device until their turn to push the 
frosted globe came up, although such manual operation was not 
sufficient to maintain even the radius of effect the device had 
achieved before damaging itself. 


Agents were authorized by O5- to open fire on the crowd. Although 
bullets experience the same decay as any other artifact, their 
velocity was enough to strike lethal wounds before decomposition. 
When the remaining globe of SCP-804 ceased to spin, the effect 
ended and agents were able to move in and secure the device. 
Survivors attempted to resist but lacked the strength to impede 
Foundation agents and began to act in a disoriented manner once 
they were removed from SCP-804. With no adequate facilities 
remaining to provide shelter for them all, many survivors chose to 
simply lie down in the snow and die while others attempted to 
provoke agents into using lethal force upon them. Those who were 
taken into custody refused to answer any questions and were able 


fucking item back. Easy enough? Then get it done." 


He climbed back into the luxury car, "Take me to the East Wall 
Street Office. They can't be much farther from there." 


"I'm going to the waterfront. I'll head them off.” 


"Thank you, Shepherd. Finally, someone who can do their job." A 
van pulled up and carried the huge man away. "This is why he's 
here." 


As they drove to the Marshall, Carter, and Dark offices, Valerie 
couldn't help but fidget in her seat as the city passed her by. Zev 
calmly looked out the window, however, there was something about 
his eyes flitting about the scenery that displayed the tumult brewing 
behind his ice-green eyes. She glanced over to Voss, who stared 
straight ahead at the general direction of the office. She abhorred 
the moment when the vehicle finally stopped at the gleaming 
buildings. At the ground floor, an art expo was going on; she took in 
every sight she could. 


Once the three walked inside, they took an immediate right into the 
utility corridors. Valerie had walked these halls so many times 
before, yet never before noticed their deep-grey glow of cruelty. 
They continued down, passing door after door until reaching the 
cubicles of the communication center. Only two or three islands 
were inhabited by callers and receptionists. Zev pulled them aside. 


"Funny how this happened, isn't it? Suddenly there's explosions and 
dead couriers and missing items in a deal that should have been 
routine...simple...tedious. Yet, nothing went right. All this trouble for 
an item..." Zev looked them both in the eye. "One has to ask 
themselves... was it a fellow LLP agent, a rival? Someone's old 
friends at GRU? Couldn't be the Insurgency... So the Foundation? 
Someone has my property, and | won't stop until | have it back. So, 
you might as well tell me now: Who is it?" 


Valerie was taken aback, "Sully, | never worked with anyone! | 
swear! I'd never do anything like that. You trust me! Please! It wasn't 


Bang. 


Her body fell to the floor as Zev shook the smoke from his barrel, 
resting the pistol back in his jacket. 


"You see? That's the problem. It's new blood like this, Voss. They 
don't understand how business is meant to be done. Back in the old 
days, everyone understood how this worked: You ask, they deliver, 
you follow through." He waved for someone to clean the mess up. 
"You know how we do things. You were there. Hell, you were even 
untrustworthy and still managed to claw your way into things." 


He walked on to the door to the main rooms. "You and |? We're the 
only ones who know the right ways, anymore." 


"Watts, come in? You read?" 


"Yeah, here. Still no sign of Zev. | checked one of his 
residences, but now I'm headed to—" 


"No time. I've lost contact with our Probe. No word for a 
while now." 


"What do you need?" 


"Go meet Roman. He's got the item. Heliotrope's already 
getting there. Sending you the coordinates." 


"God... No one ever tells me anything..." 


Heliotrope stopped her car at the edge of the street, she stood under 
the streetlight searching the darkness for her teammates. She 
squinted as she pulled her overcoat closer to her chest, guarding it 
from the rain; through the black of the fogged-over river, she caught 
the glint of a small boat. She spoke into her earpiece, "Roman? That 
you?" 


"Yep, why? Expecting someone else? Sorry to disappoint." 


"You got the item?" 


The small boat reached ground, scraping across the cement lining of 
the river. The FDR still roared above as Heliotrope trod closer to the 
ship. The four members of the Containment team heaved the 
containers ashore, Roman then took one in each hand. "Where's 
Yorston?" 


"He's still in the East." Roman didn't look up from the road. 
"So you just /eft him there? Didn't that thing blow up?!" 


"Look, we didn't have time. In case you didn't notice, we're still in the 
thick of things here. We still gotta get this thing back to Site-28. And 
SoHo's a bit of a way's away." 


"So hand it over, then. This is Mu-3's op. You should've given it to 
Yorston." 


"Sorry, Grifter. This is personal delivery.” 


Heliotrope pulled on him before he could open the car door. "Is this 
about the glory? Give it up, Roman. We have protocols to follow." A 
shot whizzed between the two. 


They turned to see the black van speeding down the street. The 
man hanging out the window let fly his bullets, Heliotrope ducked 
behind her vehicle, Roman opened fire on him. The van jerked and 
skid sideways, denting her sleek car as it fishtailed in an arc to allow 
the man a better shot at the agents. 


Machine guns' chatter deafened Heliotrope as she opened the door 
and shouted to Roman, "GET IN!" The windshield glass was 
shattered by the bullets that blazed through her suit, puffing red mist 
out of her white blouse. Roman jumped into the front seat, grabbing 
Hel's limp body and pushing it into the passenger side with the 
containers. She held them close to her chest as she tried to stop the 
blood from escaping her throat; to no avail. She whispered a prayer 
as Roman started the car and floored it. The rear-view mirror blew 
apart as the gunfire tore through the back windshield, Roman closed 
his eyes fora moment as he swerved around the traffic moving 
south. His back right tire blew as he turned onto Wall Street. Roman 
went into the telephone pole, three cars rear-ending each other 


behind. The huge man walked over to the passenger side, sliding 
the boxes out of Heliotrope's limp arms, and calmly made his way 
back to the van. 


Spitting the last of her blood from her mouth, she spoke into her 
collar. With her last gasp, "Plate numbers... 'Tango, Golf, 1, 5, 3, 
Fox-foxtrot, 2, 7...' Have to... Watts..." 


Yorston reached the coordinates sent throughout the MTF by 
Control. Taking off the Amphibious gear, he looked around for any 
sight. The commotion down the street could be heard for miles. He 
tried to make himself sparse, until Fireteam Charlie arrived in the 
gleaming white van. 


"Boss! Get in! We got an ID on the skip's car!" Before Yorston could 
open the sliding door, another car drove up; a plumber's truck. 


Watts rushed out, meeting Yorston's eyes, "What happened? 
Where's Hel?" 


"The Op's been compromised. We gotta go now!" The two stepped 
inside the van as it shot down the roads. "| swear, containment 
teams used to be good at their jobs. Roman went off with the item, 
but | think Zev got word of it in time." Yorston turned toward the 
driver, "Rich, where are they?" 


"The package's being tracked down to the MC&D Wall Street HQ. 
Police are on the scene now. Possibly even UIU." 


"Damn. Contact made?" 


"No. Just surveillance. But the LLP'’s smart enough to know when 
they're being watched." 


"Forget this. Control?" Yorston spoke into his comm. "| need the 
other backup teams over on Wall Street. Don't involve Pi-1, but get 
me as much as you can." 


"What's the plan, boss?" 


"We're going in, Rich. Hot and blazing." 


Holder 


"Show me everyone.” 


The wall of monitors projected dozens of agents; the ones waiting 
outside, watching carefully for any sign of Marshall, Carter, and Dark 
employees’ appearance in or out of the offices. The center 
projection switched between face after face, until Zev held up his 
hand. 


"Stop. Who is that?" The image showed a young, blond agent, 
covered in cuts and blood, suiting up in a new tactical vest. 


"His name is Roman." An unseen voice entered. "He's a container 
for SCP. He's of no importance anymore." 


"Shepherd, how did it go?" Through Zev's eyes, he could see the 
actual question. 


"They're right here." The blood-spattered plexiglass vessels slid 
across the floor over to Zev. 


"Why did you bring them here? There's an infestation about, if you 
haven't noticed." 


"You told me to get it here, so | did." 


That's not the reason, Zev spoke in his mind. "Come, we need to get 
these into security, now." The two went down the halls, deeper into 
the utilities. Voss followed. 


"Sully, | need to check them!" 


"We can worry about damages later. I'm sure they're fine. Luckily, 
there's one thing those hoarders know how to do well: keep an 
acquisition safe." 


After being let through the armored door by the two armed guards, 
Zev looked up at the mechanical eye sitting at the top of the frame 
for the vault's seal. The eye almost nodded as a panel stretched 


open, revealing an opening roughly the size of Zev's hand. With 
minor pain, he authenticated. The doors scraped across the tile as 
they lumbered open to the almost-warehouse in the small office. 
Stacked high with crates, there was almost no room for another 
acquisition, let alone for someone to walk through. 


However, Zev managed to navigate through the maze of 
merchandise, valuables and goods until he came to the cart. Around 
the size of an industrial photocopier, the mass of plates, panels, and 
buttons whirred with excitement at the sight of the Broker. He slid 
open a drawer below the main hub of keyboards. The velvet-lined 
interior perfectly contorted around the six bronze horses, once Zev 
had rested them in the container. Sliding it back into place, he typed 
his passcode and left. Voss and Shepherd stared at the man looking 
for a clue as to what the plan was. 


Zev brushed the dust from the never-used merchandise off himself. 
"All set. What do you say we welcome our visitors, hm?" 


"Any word from THIEF? What's next?" 


"No...nothing. | don't know what's happening. Yorston's 
moving in, hopefully we can salvage something out of 
this operation." 


"Do we at least know yet?" 
"Know what?" 


“THIEF. The probe had to be one of the four, right? 
Couldn't have gotten that info, if not." 


"That's not for us to worry about, Watts. For all | can tell, 
THIEF's gone." 


"Zev's starting to become more trouble than he's worth. 
Why aren't we storming?" 


"Protocol. That's why. Something's definitely wrong with 
this team's outlook. We have to follow rules. That's why 
PR's having to deal with a nightmare right now, that's 


why we've lost the item, that's why Heliotrope is dead." 


"Heliotrope? What happened? What's going on, 
Control?" 


"Things can't get much worse, Watts. All we can hope 
now is that we aren't too deep." 


Roman was sliding the comm headset around his helmet as a hand 
grabbed him by the shoulder. He found himself face to face with the 
Unit Commander overseeing this next phase of the operation. The 
steely-faced chief in the NYPD uniform pointed to a white van 
careening to a halt at the operation site. The remaining forces of 
MTF Mu-3 stepped out, with a young captain b-lining toward the 
Agent. 


"What the hell happened while | was gone?" Yorston glared at the 
soldier. 


"The op moved ahead." 
"You left us in the middle of the freaking East River!" 
"We had to get outta there before—" 


"Before Zev could intercept the item?" Roman's face darkened. 
"Before we lost an Agent? It's too late for that now; isn't it?" Yorston 
strode over to the main SUV of the Unit. From its trunk, he secured 
a new headset, replaced his cartridges with multiple accessories, 
and traded his MP5 for a silenced "Baby Eagle." Loading his 
subsonic rounds, he motioned for his teams. "| need one and two to 
come. Three, set up overwatch. Get in contact with Control; see if he 
can help with anything." 


"What do you think you're doing? We need to set up the exchange." 
"You're still doing that, but I'm going in with Mu-3." 


"You're gonna try to swipe the Item? No. You can't do that. Your role 
in this mission is over, Yorston. We're gonna bust this place." 


"Get off your power trip, Roman." Yorston picked up the disruptor 
from his vest pouch, switching on the red light. "In case you don't 
know, I'm a Thief," the red light blinked thrice. "And while we aren't 
as fancy as you Standard Containment guys, this is what we do; and 
we do it well," green light. All transmissions went static as Yorston 
led his team across the street. 


Zev tore the receiver out of his ear on his way through the foyer; the 
sound of the snow gave him a headache. He strode through, waving 
away the personnel trying to explain what he already knew. The 
gleaming, silver lobby of the office was paled with the suit standing 
at the door. 


"Good morning, sir. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you for a minute of your 
time." 


Zev patted his 9mm. "How about no. I'm afraid /'’m gonna hafta ask 
you to leave." 


"Sully Zev, I'm with the NYPD. Don't make this harder than it needs 
to be." Zev stepped around the agent. 


"You guys don't have a thing on me. | suggest you and your friends 

leave before this gets too deep." Opening the door, he scanned for 

the intruders across the sea of faces and cars. Zev locked eyes with 
Roman. 


"Listen. Maybe we can work something out." 


Zev bolted back into the building before the SWAT vehicles arrived. 
Taking the long way around to the surveillance area, he passed 
Voss in the cubicles. He met Shepherd in front of the wall of static 
screens. "| need her out of here before things get messy. On top of 
this, | can't have the whole board lose the last of their faith in me." 


"You sure, Zev?" Juniper Voss walked to him, "You're sure you 
didn't lose it when your courier failed?" 


"What do you expect we do? They're ready for the whole cavalry to 
go ahead and take this place. Look at this," Zev motioned at the 


defunct security feeds. "We have no next move. They have us by 
the balls." 


"Zev, calm down. We need a plan of action." Shepherd stepped over 
to the stone-faced guard at the door. "Set a defensive perimeter 
around the vaults. They don't play by the rules." 


"What do you mean? They have to stay under the radar as much as 
us." 


"No, Voss," Zev wiped the sweat from his brow. "Not these ones...| 
don't know what's gonna happen next." With the intercom system, 
the guard issued orders. Within seconds, the three agents watched 
as hired guns rushed to the front of the building. Voss gasped and 
took the nearest seat as she mentally prepared herself for the 
inevitable.