“All those incidents are enough for me to hate you, Daniel. The fact 
that you are a turn coat, the fact that you have cost me more money 
than most people see in their lifetimes, the fact that you have killed 
some of my closest friends... but this last one is what really takes 
the cake. November, 2010. Agent Navarro leads a raid ona 
warehouse in Portland, resulting in a standoff between Foundation 
forces and the warehouse occupants and contents. The occupants, 
Tanya and Eric Hill, are slain. The latter was my brother. The former 
was my wife.” 


“Wait...” Navarro said as the man stepped into light. He had short 
blond hair and was clean shaven. His eyes were bloodshot and his 
lips were curved into a regretful smile. “Jericho...” 


Navarro’s mouth hung slightly open. When they had last spoken 
almost a decade prior, Jericho T. Hill was a wealthy businessman 
who had found a hobby as a patron for both anomalous and non- 
anomalous art within Portland. He had been a kind soul, but seemed 
to fade out of the public eye around late 2004 for reasons unknown. 


Now, however, the kindness was gone. Standing before Navarro 
was a man entirely drained of energy and emotion. 


“Hello Daniel,” he said. “It sure has been a while hasn't it? | don’t 
think there is anyone else on this planet you’ve screwed over more 
than me and my friends.” 


Jericho then removed a pistol from his jacket pocket, holding it 
loosely in his ungloved hand. Navarro recognized the sidearm as his 
own. 


“So is that it?” Navarro asked. “Are you going to shoot me with my 
own gun? “ 


“You know, | hadn’t thought of that,” Jericho chuckled as he 
analyzed the pistol. “l suppose it would be easy wouldn't it? | could 
pop you in the head here and wash my hands of this. But that 
wouldn't bring back all my friends, that wouldn’t bring back Eric, and 
that certainly wouldn’t bring back Tanya. No, that wouldn’t be the 
way to handle things.” 


Jericho then petted the pistol with his gloved hand, and held the gun 
to his face as he slowly blew on it. The gun began to disintegrate 
into flakes of rust. With the gun destroyed, Jericho then gave 
another small chuckle, and turned back to face Navarro. 


“You took away everything | loved, so I'll take away that one thing 
you cherish enough to become a turn coat,” said Jericho, “I'll take 
away your freedom.” 


“How?” Navarro asked, “You going to keep me here forever? The 
Foundation will eventually find me.” 


“Certainly,” Jericho snickered, “But, if | keep putting you into 
situations like this, how long do you think it will take for them to 
question your value as an agent? If they are constantly pulling you 
from incapacitation, when will they start to see you as a liability? 
What if | silence or kill all of your contacts in the field? What use 
would you be to them then?” 


Jericho’s lips then turned into a devilish smile. 


“You’re rather anomalous yourself, Navarro, self-described wizard 
as you are. If all your utility as a field agent was stripped from you, 
do you think they’d contain you too? Or maybe they’d just wipe your 
memory and leave you on the side of the road in Indiana. | 
wonder...” 


Jericho then tossed Navarro a cell phone. 


“I’ve rigged this to activate after twenty-four hours. In the meantime 
why don’t you stay here and reflect on your current situation.” 


Navarro eyed the cell phone, and then shook his head. 


“You’re not really thinking this through, are you, Jericho?” Navarro 
asked. “When | get out of here what’s to keep me and my friends 
from finding you and gunning you down?” 


“By all means you’re welcome to try,” Jericho chuckled, “I’d love to 

see you run around on a wild goose chase. But, no, | don’t think I'll 

be around for a bit. I’m tired, and can use a vacation. Do you know 
how hard it was to track down Pyoir and convince him the best way 
to reach you was through the casket?” 


Jericho gave a small satisfied nod and slowly turned around to begin 
walking away. 


“Take care, old friend,” He called over his shoulder as he slowly 
disappeared into the darkness. Navarro heard a door open and 
slowly close in the distance. 


“Yeah,” Navarro mumbled to himself. “You too...” 


Navarro then sat down at the center of the platform. Looking down 
on his reflection he uttered a defeated sigh. 


“Well shit.” 


It was nearly a day and a half later when Navarro heard the 
warehouse door open. A short woman with neck length brunette hair 
and a bright red winter jacket slowly made her way across the empty 
floor. She stopped just short of the platform and shook her head, a 


small smile on her face. 
“We've got to stop meeting like this Daniel.” 


Navarro gave a small chuckle in return before flipping her off. Her 
name was Sasha Merlo. She was a Foundation field agent stationed 
at the local Site—64, and someone Navarro had worked with on 
several raids in the past. When Jericho’s phone finally activated, she 
was the first person he could think of to call who might actually show 
up to set him free. 


“Hmmmmm...” Sasha hummed as she struck a thoughtful pose. “1 
do quite like the piece, but | do question the artist’s use of color...” 


“Sasha,” Navarro sighed, “It’s been a very, very, long day. Can you 
please just get this off me?” 


“| suppose...” she said with a hint of disappointment. “So | just pull 
the armor off, or, what?” 


“That’s what the artist said to do. I’d do it myself, but | quite value 
having my appendages attached to my torso.” 


“Yeah,” Sasha began as she lifted the armor off, over Navarro’s 
head, “me too.” 


She then tossed the breastplate aside, the metal hitting the ground 
with a loud clink. 


“A recovery team should be here soon to pick up the platform and 
armor,” Sasha said as she sat down on the platform. “You do know 
there are probably four or five reports, and maybe a committee 
hearing, or two, you’re going to have to deal with for this, yeah?” 


“Don’t remind me,” Navarro chuckled as he took a seat. Within a few 
moments a team of six more Foundation agents entered the 
warehouse. 


“Buy you a drink when this is done?” Sasha asked. 


Navarro gave anod and quietly waited for the questioning to begin. 


Two days later, Navarro found himself sitting at the desk in his office 
in Site-19. A blank Person of Interest form was displayed on the 
monitor of his computer. An old photograph was gripped tightly in his 
hands. 


A few hours after Agent Merlo had set him free he was summarily 
buried under the weight of half a dozen reports that needed to be 
filed. Taking a break from the paperwork, Navarro managed to find 
an old photograph among the numerous belongings that cluttered 
his office. It was taken before he had come to work for the 
Foundation. The background was an art studio, where a newly made 
marble sculpture had recently been unveiled. Standing in the 
foreground was a much younger Daniel Navarro and his old friends, 
Tom, Jackson, Alexis, Jill, and Jericho T. Hill. 


“And you'll leave? Tom, Jackson, Alexis, and me; we'll never see 
you again?” 


“If that’s what you want.” 


Jill's words echoed in his head. He looked over the happy faces in 
the photograph one more time and sighed. He quietly pulled out a 
lighter and set a corner ablaze. Within moments the photograph was 
incinerated. Navarro swept the ashes into his office trash can and 
returned to his work, another bridge burnt. 


He then began to fill out the Person of Interest form. 
Name: Jericho T. Hill 


«Part Two: Meeting Over Coffee | Hub | Part Four: The Templar 
Incident» 


The Templar Incident 


In a lonely office at Site-—64 sat a short young man with salt and 
pepper hair. Across from his desk was a casually dressed woman 
with neck length brunet hair tied back in a ponytail. Several old filing 
cabinets lined the back walls of the room, while the other walls were 
coated with a menagerie of motivational posters. The man was 
known as Researcher Fredrick Clayton. The woman was Agent 
Sasha Merlo. The individuals remained silent, their meeting stalled 
as they awaited a third party. So far the waiting time was 
approaching half an hour. 


A moment later the door to the office opened and a man dressed in 
a lab coat a few sizes too small, with a thick layer of stubble on his 
chin entered. As he took a seat, he gave Clayton an enthusiastic 
grin. 


“Greetings fellow Researcher,” he bellowed, “How shall we destroy 
the mysteries of the universe today?” 


Clayton immediately looked over to Merlo. It was clear she was 
using every ounce of willpower in her possession to keep from 
breaking out in laughter. 


“| take it this is Agent Navarro?” Clayton asked Merlo. His 
expression lacked joy. 


“lam Dr. Science!” the man interrupted, “I was born with a test tube 
in one hand a thirst for knowledge in the other!” 


“You know | have a daily report quota to meet, yeah?” Clayton 
sighed as he placed his head in his hands. “I really don’t have time 
for this.” 


“Where did you even get the lab coat?” Merlo chuckled, Navarro 
grinned as he took off the small coat. 


Caught someone skulking around my car last night. Must make sure 
to set alarm every time | leave it. 


| needed to find something in town today, so | went to try and find a 
map. There doesn’t seem to be a map of this damn place anywhere. 
Not even at the library. Speaking of the library, it’s probably the most 
empty library I’ve ever seen. There is nothing that could possibly 
give me any background information about this city, not even 
newspaper archives. 


| did, however, find Agent at the library. Agent was sent to 
this city shortly after its classification as an SCP, and never reported 
back. He seemed to have no memory of me, or of the Foundation. 
He was, however, very enthusiastic about convincing me to move in, 
as well as introducing me to his wife and children. The youngest 
appears to be at least five years old. Agent has only been 
missing for six months. 


In the middle of all this, | completely forgot what it was | had wanted 
to look for in the first place. 


kat 
Day 5 
| remember what | wanted to find yesterday. I’ve noticed that several 
things are completely absent from this place. The city has no 
cemeteries, no funeral homes, no mortuaries, no headstone makers, 
and no hospitals. 


ae: 
Day 6 
What the hell is going on here? | just turned on the sink in my motel 
room to brush my teeth. No water came out. Instead, | was hit with a 
loud hissing sound and the smell of natural gas. The same thing 
happened when | turned on the shower and flushed the toilet. 


That settles it. I’m getting out of this place RIGHT NOW! 


ed 
I’m writing this entry from the safety of a reputable motel in [DATA 
EXPUNGED]. Allow me to recount the things that happened as | 
tried to leave SCP-599. 


“| just found it on the back of a chair in the break room,” Navarro 
replied. “Couldn’t resist...” 


Navarro then turned to Clayton. 
“| was told you placed Jericho’s thoughts on file?” 


“Indeed,” Clayton said as he wheeled his chair back to one of the 
filing cabinets that lined the back wall. Carefully selecting a drawer, 
he opened it and removed several folders. “It took a while for 
Director Holman to provide the clearance for the drawer, but | was 
able to transcribe about four days’ worth of thoughts before they 
stopped.” 


“How is that even possible?” Merlo asked, “He can’t just stop 
thinking.” 


“It’s not the first time this has happened,” Clayton sighed. “Either 
your man is dead or, more likely, he has an undocumented instance 
of these cabinets. If your name is on two cabinets simultaneously 
both stop collecting the individual’s thoughts. We believe it was a 
control measure created by the cabinet’s original owners.” 


“Was there anything useful in the thoughts you were able to 
transcribe?” Navarro asked, quickly grabbing the file from Clayton’s 
hands. 


“There was,” said Clayton, his lips curling into a smug smile. “Unless 
Jericho changed plans in the last two days, he intends to be present 
at a reopening ceremony for some historic hotel called The Templar 
here in Portland. A local sculptor named Tom Herring did an art 
piece that’s going to be unveiled.” 


Navarro immediately stopped reading the file and turned to Merlo. 
Both he and she shared the same pale expression of revelation. 


“I'll get clearance from Holman!” Merlo said as she immediately got 
to her feet and made her way to the exit. Navarro quickly placed the 
file back on the desk and followed suit. Within moments the room 
had emptied of all occupants save Clayton. 


“You’re welcome,” Clayton said out loud as he watched the door to 


the office swing shut. With another sigh he then returned Jericho’s 
file back to its drawer. 


The Templar hotel had long since passed its heyday. As a 
speakeasy during prohibition, it had good fortune of acquiring 
enough interesting history to warrant a full restoration effort. Now 
that the reconstruction was complete, many of Portland and 
Seattle’s elite had gathered in the hotel’s ballroom for an elaborate 
reopening ceremony. The ballroom’s center piece, a large statue 
that had been requisitioned from an upcoming local sculptor, 
remained hidden behind a velvet curtain. 


Agents Navarro and Merlo sat at a table in the corner. Having been 
provided with fake identities by the SCP Foundation, the two agents 
kept their eyes peeled for any signs of Jericho T. Hill. As the party 
around them unfolded, it appeared that their target was a no show. 


“Gotta love these dead ends,” Merlo chuckled as she scanned the 
room. She was dressed in a black dress, her hair down from its 
usual ponytail. 


“Absolutely,” Navarro snickered, his gaze focused on the curtain 
covering the statue. He was dressed in an uncharacteristically nice 
suit. 


“| don’t know what will be worse,” Merlo continued, “Explaining to 
Holman that this mission essentially boiled down into us attending a 
party, or telling the response team that they've been on standby for 
no reason. C'est la vie.” 


Before Navarro could respond, two more individuals sat down at 
their table. One was a tall, pale woman in her mid-thirties with short 
black hair. The other was a muscular man in his early forties, with 
his long brown hair done back in a braid. Navarro recognized them 
as Jill and Tom Herring. 


“You son of a bitch,” Jill hissed at Navarro. Both her and her 
husband shared the same hostile glare. “We'd never see you again. 
That’s what we agreed on Daniel.” 


“Oh, hey Jill,” Navarro responded, “Nice to see you too.” 
“What are you doing here, Dan?” Tom asked. 


“Well, considering how this is a public display by a known anartist, | 
couldn't begin to guess.” 


“You think Tom is stupid enough to pull that kind of shit?” Jill 
whispered. 


“Everything’s on the level Dan,” Tom added, “The Suits don’t need 
to be here. You can leave.” 


“We just need to see the statue and then we’re on our way,” Merlo 
chirped in. 


“Is she a Suit too?” Jill asked between clenched teeth, both her and 
her husband’s gaze falling on Merlo. “Christ, how many of you are 
here?” 


“Well, technically she’s a Dress,” Navarro smirked, “but yes, she is 
with me. We need to see the statue, and if all checks out, we’re 
gone. | promise.” 


Tom and Jill looked at each other. With a sigh, Tom shrugged and 
got to his feet. His wife quickly took his arm and the two left. 


“Congratulations,” Navarro called out to them as they walked away.