"| met Bowe exactly one time. He came over to inspect Site-77, 
when he was on the warpath for humanoids with vaguely 
weaponizable powers. He wanted to use 213, for obvious reasons, 
but he was still comatose then. You wouldn't believe what he offered 
our doctors to rouse him." 


Gillespie shook her head. "That was when | realized it probably 
wasn't going to work out." 


Light chuckled. "That sounds about right." 


Gillespie picked her tea up with her good hand, and shook the ice 
around. "So, what did Lament give you, on your first date?" 


Light grinned. "Ctenophores. It was awesome." 


Gillespie smiled in return. "Gifts like that always mean the most. 
What happened to them?" 


Light laughed out loud. "You'll love this. A Junior Researcher drank 
them, thought they were anomalous, and almost got our whole 
sector on lockdown." 


Gillespie chuckled. "Shame that you lost them." 


Light shrugged. "Ended up being a great story, though. Sometimes 
that's the best you can hope for." 


"Yes... I've heard stories, rumors, about you and Lament. If you 
don't mind, of course..." 


"No, go on. | don't mind." 
"Are you still... entangled?" 


Light shook her head. "Just friends. We both agree that things work 
out better that way." 


Gillespie nodded, sagely. "It's a shame... you would make a 


tremendous power couple. But I'm sure the last thing on your mind 
is needing more power." She closed her eyes, and finished her drink 
before standing. "Let's head back to the Site... I've got a lot to show 
you before we go. We've left 05-4 waiting long enough." 


Standing with her, Light smiled. "Lead the way." 


« Boss Of Me | Resurrection | Where Your Eyes Don't Go » 


Addendum 704-01: Interior monitoring devices have shown that 
most drivers begin to speak to the road and respond as though it is 
communicating with them. The conversation is always about the 
passengers and usually results in peals of manic laughter from the 
driver, but has been recorded to produce anger as well. 


It is unclear whether SCP-704 is actually communicative or sapient. 
Due to the personality changes during an active event and partial 
retrograde amnesia after, all potential interview attempts have failed. 


Addendum 704-02: On 04/09/2009, D-4701, a member of the 

biker gang, was selected to determine the effect of SCP-704 on 
a single-occupant vehicle. He was given a motorcycle with a remote- 
activated kill-switch and instructed to traverse SCP-704. In this case, 
SCP-704 changed to lead D-4701 directly through the guardhouse 
at the opposite end, killing the two observing researchers. Future 
experimentation on SCP-704 with single-occupant vehicles is 
discouraged. 


« SCP-703 | SCP-704 | SCP-705 » 


In Harm's Way 


Iris had been trying to reach through a photograph for the last 
several hours. 


It was an ordinary photograph. She'd taken it with her own camera a 
few minutes ago, as she had done with the last few dozen 
photographs. And yet, when she tried to reach through, she had 
difficulty. Sometimes her hand just wouldn't go through. More often, 
what came through was a phantom version of her hand: hazy, 
flickering, difficult to see. 


She tossed the photograph onto the desk, groaning in frustration. 
The nameless researcher assigned to monitor her training raised an 
eyebrow. "Need a break?" he asked laconically. 


Iris shook her head. "| want some answers." 


"Well, physiologically, you're fine," the researcher said, tapping the 
back of his pen against his clipboard. "So the problem must be 
psych—" 


"That's not what | mean," Iris interrupted. "| want some answers. 
Some real answers Like, who's in charge of this thing? Who's the 
new General Bowe?" 


"That's... most probably classified." 


"Probably?" Iris glared at the researcher. He shrugged back. She 
wanted to slap the smile off his bland face. "| want to see him," she 
said. 


"| don't think that's really necessary." Researcher No-Name smiled 
politely. "Why don't we give it another try? Repeat from the top of 
Exercise November Six?" 


Iris shook her head. "No. I'm done here." She stood and walked to 


the doorway. There was a security camera above it: she looked 
straight into the dark, unblinking lens. "| know you're out there," she 
said, "and we need to meet. | need to talk to you, or this whole thing 
is going to fail." 


Somewhere else, "The New General Bowe’ woke up at an 
unknowable time, a million miles away from her body. The real world 
was loud, but unintelligible, across a foggy chasm. Light thought her 
heart might be racing, but it was hard to tell. 


What triggered it this time? A dream, maybe. She tried to think back, 
and only got vague nonsense: images of images of blood and 
grabbing with faint overtones of you fucked everything up... 


The timing could not be random. The announcement about 
Alpha-9's approval by the Overseer Council came through last night. 
She'd stayed up for four hours making phone calls, and she couldn't 
remember what happened after that, so, yeah, that must been it. 


For an unknown length of time, she sat upright in bed, arms 
wrapped around her body, numb and unresponsive even through 
two alarms and a ringing phone. Funny how she could be the very 
picture of composure during a crisis, but wait until her brain spat out 
the wrong image while she was sleeping and the world may as well 
be ending. 


At some point, Vaux, her assistant, knocked on the door to make 
sure she was alive and to tell her that she was fine, that nothing 
urgent was happening right now, and that he'd rescheduled aside 
her morning appointments and would come by later with food and 
coffee. Then he left her alone to ride it out. 


She often wondered what amazingly selfless deed she'd ever done 
to deserve that man. 
At around twelve, Light finally appeared in the office, foggy and raw 


but mostly in her skin again. 


Vaux looked up from a nest of paperwork that he'd been slogging 


his way through like a champion. "How are you?" he asked politely. 


"No unusual symptoms," Light said. "Normal, mostly. The blood test 


"Medical's expecting you any time." 
She nodded. "Good. Thanks. Thank you." 


Vaux smiled, and said something she didn't quite process. Light 
flexed her left hand, hoping she hadn't sprained it again while 
dissociating wildly. She hated physical therapy. "What's going on?" 
she asked. 


"You still have two meetings today that | couldn't get rid of," Vaux 
said. "Aktus sent you some files on his latest reports. We have more 
news from the O5 Council, and you have to meet with the other 
Directors about those tomorrow. And Kain arrived here early this 
morning." 


"Cain with a C or a K?" Light asked. 


"Kain with a K. Dr. Elliott and Director Moose are with him. They 
wanted to see you, but | told them you were on the phone with an 
05." 


"Thanks. What else?" 


"You were also scheduled to meet with Cain with a C. But Director 
Moose tried to pull some strings to get herself assigned to bring him 
in to Alpha-9. | let her succeed. She's already done, and he's on 
board. The report summary's in your inbox. Your first meeting is with 
Director Moose. She says she has a concern." 


"About what?" 


"She wouldn't say. If | had to guess, it's probably about Alpha-9 in 
general." 


Light nodded. "Cain — SCP-073 — I'll need to go see him myself 
soon." 


"Already scheduled for next week." 
"Thanks. Who's my second meeting with?" 
"Uh." Vaux checked his notes. "Tav-666." 


"Fuck." 


Vaux turned out to be right about Director Moose, as he usually did. 


Two minutes after 1 PM, Director Light walked into the meeting 
room, dressed in her standard uniform: white oxford shirt, black 
slacks, neat wingtip shoes, dark circles under her eyes. 


Director Moose was already there, pacing on the other side of the 
room, an ill-fitting suit draped over her too-tall frame. The dark 
circles under her eyes matched Light's. The woman with the funny 
name hadn't been expected to last long in her position as director of 
Site-19 — no one had lasted long, besides Strelnikov, who was 
supposed to be temporary, and who finally demanded to be 
replaced. Moose had lasted for over a year so far, but not without 
the job taking its toll. 


The only other thing in the room was a brown, wrapped package. 


"| obtained the items you asked about," Moose said, without 
preamble. "They're... close to your specifications. It wasn't easy. But 
they will work, even for someone like you, who isn't a Type Blue. | 
checked them myself. There are instructions with the packaging." 


"Thank you so much," Light said. "If there's anything | can do for you 


Moose shook her head. "You already have. Thank you for letting me 
approach Cain." 


"You should thank Vaux for that. The report says that went well." 
"You got a report already?" 


"Yet another thing I'm thanking Vaux for." Light took a seat. "What 


did you do to convince Cain to join?" 


"| didn't have to do anything.” Moose got a funny look on her face. 
"He agreed immediately. | admit, | was surprised. Given all the 
history there, with... with SCP-076-2, and Omega-7..." 


Light thought about that. "Maybe the O5s asked him in the first 
place? I'm not going to complain about things going right for once." 


"They won't stay that way," Moose said, dryly. 
"Probably not." Light shrugged. 


"That's what | wanted to talk to you about," Moose said. "About 
Alpha-9." 


Light waited. 


"They sent me the reports last week," Moose said. "| read them top 
to bottom. Looking for a good enough reason to recreate something 
as dangerous as Omega-7. What | found was a lot of political 
maneuvering, going back years, and Iris shooting some unidentified 
insurgents during an incursion on this Site. Nothing else. All quiet on 
the anomalous front. Yet Alpha-9 has been created anyway. As of 
last night." 


"| have my own hesitations," Light said. "But | thought you'd be on 
board with the Foundation taking a different approach to using 
anomalies." 


"Because I'm an anomaly myself? That is exactly why | think this is 
excessively dangerous." 


Most people didn't know it, but Moose was what they called a Type 
Blue. A paranormal magician, in her life before the Foundation. Ex- 
Serpent's Hand. 


"Don't misunderstand me," Moose said. "To borrow a phrase from 
others — extraordinary risks require extraordinary justification. | see 
the risk here. | don't see the extraordinary justification." 


Light nodded. "It's the long-term risk, | think. Maybe even medium- 


term. Right? Our ordinary resources are stretched to their limits. Our 
anomalous resources are barely being tapped. And we're still 
identifying possible SCPs almost every day. Maybe we don't have 
the extraordinary justification right exactly now, but we will." She 
hesitated. "Unless the O5s know something we don't." 


"You know I'm a Company woman," Moose said. "But for some 
people, that won't be good enough." 


Light nodded. "Why didn't you refuse to participate on Alpha-9? You 
could have." 


"Because | understand how anomalies work, out there in the real 
world," Moose said. "No one on your current field team even knows 
what a Type Blue is. | Know you're considering Aleksander Foxx — 
and he also works for Marshall, Carter, and Dark. This is already a 
risk. If | can prevent it becoming a disaster, a least in some way, I'm 
obligated to try." She looked at Light. "I imagine that's why you're 
involved in this, too." 


She wasn't wrong. They were both quiet for a minute. 


"A Factotum came to see me last night," Moose said, finally. "After 
the Council voted to approve Alpha-9. Called themselves Loyalty. 
Not very subtle." 


"What'd they say?" 


"They told me how Alpha-9 was approved," Moose said. "They told 
me it wasn't the Council's best judgment that let the vote pass. It 
was political wrangling. And existential fear, that none of them 
wanted to say outright. The Council was waiting for something like 
this to come along, and once it did, they only needed someone to 
say, well, here's a project we like. We'll run it. We'll take the fall if 
things go wrong. When things go wrong." 


Moose paused again, staring at the table, tapping her fingers on the 
back of an empty chair. 


"Was that me?" Light asked. 


Moose shook her head. "Loyalty told me that it was a member of the 


Council. Who volunteered to take the fall if Alpha-9 turns out like 
Omega-7. They said it was O5-10." 


05-10? Light was slightly surprised. She'd only heard from O5-7 for 
the duration of this project. 


But then, that made a certain amount of sense. O5-7 never seemed 
to be the type to put herself on the line for a project like this. That's 
why she had... well, people like Light. And Clef, before her... 


"Why'd you request to bring in Cain yourself?" 


"To rip the band-aid off." Moose paused. "And so no one else could 
fuck it up." 


Light nodded. 


"This will have consequences," Moose said. "No one's forgotten 
Omega-7. Don't expect that to be a good thing." 


"That's been on my mind," Light said. "We have a lot of preparation 
to take care of." 


"| have to get back to work. Good luck, Director Light. I'll see you 
soon." Moose stopped tapping her fingers on the chair. "Don't delay. 
We may have less time than we think." 


Light didn't plan to. 


The next meeting, with Tav-666, came too quickly. 


This time, sitting at the long conference table were the ugliest, most 
slovenly man in the world, and his polar opposite: attractive, neatly 
groomed, and female. 


Light knew the man well. The woman, she knew of. 
“Alto,” Light said. "Sorry for Keeping you waiting.” 


"Sophia," Clef replied, that rictuslike grin of his never leaving his 
face. "Allow me to introduce my former secretary and current 


protege, Andrea S. Adams." 


"Adams," Light said, extending her hand in greeting. "I've heard 
quite a bit about you. Good work extracting Iris from that GOC 
snatch-and-grab." 


Adams's lip twitched a bare millimeter at that as the two women 
shook hands. Clef's expression was... much more readable. 
"Apologies if | kept you waiting,” Light continued. "You've heard the 
news?" 


"The Overwatch vote? Yup! God help us all." Clef laughed. 
"You weren't expecting it? From the orders..." 


"The 05s will order any damn thing they think is a good idea," Clef 
said. "Or a bad one, if it's a Tuesday. Doesn't mean Last Hope 
wasn't going to be controversial. You ask me, | bet the vote barely 
slid past." 


Light flexed her left hand, remembering what Moose had said. 
"Alpha-9 is still widely unpopular." 


"You bet your ass. And now everyone's going to know about it." 


She nodded. "In that case, we have a growing problem and | need 
your thoughts." Light opened a file on her tablet and turns it around 
to show the others. "Dr. Maynard Maddox, Site Director, Site 88. 
Agent Richard Gillian, Unit 18. There are more, and we don't know 
who they are." 


"What are they?" 
"Foxes in the henhouse." 


Clef took the tablet and narrowed his eyes, looking them over. 
"Traitors. Known affiliations?" 


"Gillian worked with an undercover op a few years ago that had 
some questionable encounters with the Insurgency. Maddox, not 
sure. Both of them leaked planted information, one of which led to 
an attack on Site-88 by unknown hostiles." 


"There are more?" asked Adams. 


"Yes. Most of them are biding their time. | was attacked at Site-77. 
SCP-1501 hadn't breached containment for months before that, and 
the investigation showed obvious signs of sabotage. It was an 
attempt on my life.” 


"No suspects?" Clef asked, passing the photos to Adams. 


"Gillespie has assured me that the acting site director, her grandson 
Ralph Roget, is investigating," Light said. 


"Good."