Agent Spencer folded his copy of The Portlander and sighed, 
looking out the window of the Three Portlands UIU office at the slew 
of protesters below. While signs of all shapes and colors could be 
seen, by far the most prominent sentiment present were those 
comparing the UIU to the Foundation. Some even went as far as to 
insinuate Foundation involvement in the Anderson Robotics raid. 


"Didn't take them too long to make the connection," Thorne 
observed, approaching their colleague and handing him a folder 
containing the results on the most recent batch of interrogations. 


"Even if we had done this operation alone, the sentiment would be 
the same," Spencer replied with a sigh. "Still, the comparisons to the 
Foundation are a little harsh. Not like we threw Electric Jesus ina 
box and locked him away forever." 


"Worse," Thorne chuckled. "We killed Electric Jesus." 


"We know not what we do," Spencer said with a grin, then looked 
over the interrogation files. While the Foundation had taken the 
Saker units and higher-ups, they had left the run-of-the-mill cyborgs, 
paper-pushers, and middle managers for the UIU to sort through. 
After scanning them for a few minutes he placed them on his desk 
before rubbing the the bridge of his nose with this thumb and index 
finger. "Still nothing?" 


"Nada," said Thorne. "Everyone we brought in here has been 
completely oblivious. I'm guessing that only the inner circle and the 
Sakers knew what was up. Pretty clever actually. Gives you 
complete control over who knows what." 


"Anderson was no fool..." Spencer agreed. He returned his attention 
to the protesters below. "This whole thing sets a very dangerous 
precedent, you know?" 


"Oh?" Thorne raised an eyebrow. 


"Tells the Foundation that with the right carrot, they can get us to 
sanction their operations in here," Spencer explained. "Something 
tells me that the Foundation has a lot of tempting carrots they can 
offer the Directors." 


"Guess we'l 


"Guess so." 


| just have to learn to say no," Thorne shrugged. 


Excerpt from Combat After-Action Report, Operation FALCON 


PUNCH 


11. Commander's Analysis 


The Agents of MTF Gamma-13 (Asimov's Lawbringers), MTF T 
Trade) proved highly effective, completing all major objectives a 
civilian casualties and fewer than projected casualties among F¢ 
down of the Anderson Robotics production floor and control cen 
and Delta-3's containment of the raid to the designated combat. 
World Headquarters a quick operation, but also a clean one. 


The paratechnology provided to MTF members was essential to 


* The Molt Anti-Robotics Gas Grenades rendered most n 
dispatch. 

* The Mew Self-Repairing Body Armor prevented numerc 

¢ The Imprint Saker Detection Spray made identification 
potentially dangerous Anderson Robotics model — a sim 
apprehending these anomalies significantly easier over pe 


Had the Anomalous Materials and the Paratechnology Developr 
technologies for use in the field, the entire operation would have 
magnitude higher, assuming mission success would have still be 


Persons of Interest Jason Contos (Anderson Robotics Co-Head 
(Anderson Robotics Head of Advanced Logic Division), and the 
during the course of the operation, with the latter two currently p 
sources of intelligence regarding robotics paratechnology and th 
Persons of Interest Dr. Medea Contos (Anderson Robotics Co-t 
Dillard (Anderson Robotics Executive Officer) did manage to est 
threat to Foundation interests and consensus normalcy. Investic 
ongoing. 


Finally, coordination with and inclusion of agents of the Unusual 
success. Not only did such inclusion allow for the operation to o 


serves as a foot in the door for further cooperation between our 
within the Three Portlands Location of Interest. 


May 27th, 2024 
Sea-Tac International Airport 


Dr. Medea Contos sat by her gate, a ticket for her flight to Japan 
tightly gripped in her hand. Her eyes were red from a combination of 
sleepless nights, and tears when she finally received confirmation as 
to the fate of her adopted son, Jason. She let out a heavy sigh and 
looked at the clock above the gate. Still an hour to go before she 
would be leaving her life behind... again. 


"Mind if | sit here?" 


Dr. Contos looked up. Standing beside her was an elderly woman in 
a blue business suit. The woman smiled warmly as the light of 
recognition entered Dr. Contos's eyes. 


"Mrs. Saker," Dr. Contos smiled in return. "| was not expecting to 
see you here. | thought all the Saker units had been captured during 
the raid." 


"| could say the same thing about you, my dear," Mrs. Saker replied 
as she took a seat. "Myself, 23, 58, 81, and 125 had been on 
various assignments at the time. We reconnected briefly with Mr. 
Dillard and a few of his associates with Marshall, Carter, and Dark 
for reassignment. My job was to locate you. I'm pleased to see you 
followed Mr. Anderson's instructions." 


"| did my best, at least..." Dr. Contos frowned. "| went home early 
that day... had a date, believe it or not. But, when | heard the 
explosions... | knew that was it. Grabbed my bail bag, the protocol 
Anderson gave us, and ran... | bet Jason did something both brave 
and stupid in the end..." 


"Oh, he did," Mrs. Saker replied. "He copied the R&D files and then 


destroyed the originals.” 


"How do you know that?" Dr. Contos asked. "How could you 
possibly know that? You weren't there." 


"Terrance told me," Mrs. Saker answered with a grin. She then 
reached down into her pocket and pulled out a tiny, battle-scarred 
Amur drone. The little robot quickly leaped onto Medea's lap and, 
with its stubby legs, proceeded to give her the closest thing it could 
to a hug. Medea giggled and pet the drone with two fingers. The 
drone chirped happily, then ejected a silver flash drive. 


"| believe you'll find the file called 'Read Me First, Mom’ to be of 
particular interest," Mrs. Saker commented, and gestured to Dr. 
Contos' laptop bag on the floor beneath her seat. 


Without delay, Dr. Contos proceeded to boot up her computer, 
placing the flash drive gingerly into one of the free USB ports, and 
patiently waiting for the drivers to install. Once ready, she found the 
file Mrs. Saker spoke of and opened it. It was a simple Notepad doc. 


Hey Mom. 


You always told me, while | was growing up, to keep 
from being reckless. Guess I'm not a very good listener. 
If you are reading this, then | am most likely either dead 
or a prisoner of the Foundation. Knowing my luck, 
probably the former. 


Growing up, you also taught me to never put a friend ina 
position | would never put myself. What was our kickass 
R&D team if not our friends? | had them all escape and 
stuck around to make sure our work was saved, and that 
it wouldn't fall into the Foundation's hands. You should 
find it all here. More than enough for you to find Isaac or 
Ms. Fuentes and keep on doing what it is you love doing. 
Hell, | bet if you can track down the rest of the R&D team 
they'll all be happy to join you. 


I'm real proud of you, Mom. | like to think, in the end, 
you'd be proud of my decision here. It’s the right thing to 


SCP-744: Assembly Required 


Item #: SCP-744 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: Due to SCP-744's immobility, 
Containment Facility 744-A has been built around it. A two kilometer 
perimeter surrounding the area is blocked off with a concrete wall 
topped with concertina, and is monitored by security cameras. 
Guard posts located on the perimeter are to be manned by security 
personnel armed with standard field gear. Any items produced by 
SCP-744 are to be retained until they can be used. 


Description: SCP-744 is a large abandoned factory covering 
approximately 30 acres, located in , WV. SCP-744 is only semi- 
operational, with most of the manufacturing equipment having either 
degraded to the point to where it no longer functions, or having been 
deliberately damaged by an unknown party at some point prior to 
SCP-744's containment. The portions of SCP-744 that are functional 
contain many types of manufacturing equipment that would normally 
not be associated with each other, including large industrial looms, 
automobile manufacturing equipment, and large pistons that do not 
seem to serve any purpose whatsoever. Current research at 
Containment Facility 744-A is dedicated to studying possible 
connections between these machines. 


SCP-744's anomalous properties manifest once every 56 hours. 
During this time period, SCP-744 will activate its manufacturing 
equipment. While SCP-744 is active, it will actively use its 
manufacturing equipment to produce items [For a partial list of these 
items, see the Log of items produced by SCP-744]. All items 
manufactured by SCP-744 are moved via conveyor belt into a large 
antechamber which appears to have been designed to assemble 
them into one machine. This chamber is no longer functional. It is 
unknown where SCP-744 obtains the materials it uses to 
manufacture these items. 


do. Wan knows that after all the side projects Isaac had 
me work on, my moral compass could use some re- 
balancing. 


Love, your son, 
Jason 


PS, if you decide to pull a Wilson, and Sakerize me, that 
wouldn't be too bad. 


Tears welled in Dr. Contos's eyes as she finished the note. She 
could feel Mrs. Saker place a hand on her shoulder. 


"Goddamn heroics," Dr. Contos said with a sad chuckle, wiping 
away her tears. "Coward his whole life except for when it really 
counted." She then turned off her laptop and stowed it away. "What 
happens now?" 


"You and | are going to Japan," Mrs. Saker answered. "From there, 
we'll meet up with Mr. Dillard and head down to Hong Kong. 
Marshall, Carter, and Dark have a job offer for the both of you, from 
what | hear. Likely will be able to pick up where you left off." 


Dr. Contos nodded, and returned her attention to the clock above 
the gate. Forty-five minutes until departure. The two of them would 
be boarding soon. 


May 27th, 2024 
Site-64 
Anomalous Materials Lab 


It was late in the evening when Director Edgar Holman stepped 
inside the Site-64 AMat lab. There, he found the lights dimmed, the 
staff having long gone home, or to the onsite dorms for the evening. 
The exception was a single desk lamp, making the various pieces of 
equipment around the lab cast long, dark shadows upon the walls. 
Sitting at that desk was the lab's only other occupant, examining an 
old wristwatch as music emanated from the MP3 player that sat next 
to him on the desktop. 


"Ahem." 


Holman cleared his throat. The researcher looked up with sleep- 
deprived eyes and gave a small wave, then turned the music off. 


"Evening, Director," said Conwell, turning his attention back to the 
wristwatch. "Did | ever show you this watch?" 


"| don't believe you have." 


"Dr. Zachary Johnson gave it to me a while ago, before he passed 
away," Conwell explained with a sigh. "He was a kind of mentor to 
me back when | was on the 1360 project. Said that it was ‘simple, 
dependable, and had a slightly odd tick’ and that | ‘exemplified those 
qualities.’ | spent about two months examining it in my off-time to 
see if there was a minor anomalous effect to it, but it’s just a watch. | 
like to think Zach drummed it up because he knew I'd examine it a 
ton if he did. A kind of parting joke, if you will. I'd wear it more, but 
Kate thinks it’s ugly as sin." 


Conwell sighed again and gently placed the watch back in his desk 
drawer. 


"Anyway," he continued, "that's neither here nor there. Sorry about 
the mess. What can | do for you, Director?" 


It was at the mention of 'mess' that Holman noticed the neatly 
stacked pyramid of used coffee cups on the edge of Conwell's desk. 
He then chuckled and shook his head. 


"I'm sure you've heard of the success of the Anderson Raid by now,” 
Holman replied. "Wouldn't have been able to do it without the work 
done by you and the paratech devs." 


"Glad to have helped you and Merlo catch your white whale,” 
Conwell chuckled. "You guys going to be sending more robots our 
way to Guantanamo?" 


Holman frowned at this sentiment. 


"There are a few final projects we have lined up for your lab with 
respects to captured Anderson assets, but you won't be here for 


those." 
"Sir?" Conwell raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure | follow." 


"Aeslinger failed you on your psyche eval last week," Holman 
elaborated. "You're going to be put on administrative leave." 


"Are... are you firing me?" 
"Consider it a mandated vacation." 
"With all due respect, Director, | don't think-" 


"Jacob, please," Holman interrupted, "When was the last time you 
got a full night’s sleep, or spent an afternoon with your kids, or took 
your wife out on a date? The time has come for you to take a break." 


Conwell sunk into his chair. He looked at his desk, then around the 
lab, then nodded. 


"If | come back after a few weeks..." 
"Try a month, champ." 


"Right," Conwell continued. "If | come back after a month and pass 
the eval then, will | still be Pl here?" 


"Of course." 


"Very well then," Conwell stood up and grabbed his jacket from the 
back of his chair. "I'll take my leave." 


Holman followed Conwell out the door, watching as the researcher 
locked it behind him with a regretful sigh. He smiled and placed a 
hand on Conwell's shoulder. 


"For what it’s worth," he said, "you did a good job." 


Conwell gave a tired smile in return and nodded. He then placed his 
ear buds within their proper place, and turned on his music. Holman 
could hear the lyrics fade as Conwell made his way towards the 
elevator. 


May 28th, 2024 
Site-19 
High-security Humanoid Containment Wing 


"How long has he been waiting like that?" Merlo asked, peering into 
the cell from behind one way glass. Inside the cell, hands neatly 
folded on the table in front of him, was Vincent Anderson, patiently 
waiting. 


"24 hours," Researcher Labelle answered, likewise peering into the 
cell. "He awoke from his coma during your raid, and immediately 
began to demand parts for repair in exchange for information on 
Marshall, Carter, and Dark, as well as the Maxwellist church. The 
intel proved promising, so naturally we threw him a bone. He made 
the repairs and has been waiting ever since. Said something about 
waiting to speak with you." 


Merlo nodded and continued to gaze at her longtime adversary. The 
last time she had seen his real body, Anderson seemed almost 
skeletal. His pale skin had been replaced by scar tissue, one of his 
mechanical camera lens eyes no longer functioned, and 
occasionally he'd give a violent involuntary shake. Now, however, 
his scars had mostly faded, his eye had been fixed, and his shaking 
was gone. While he still looked as though he had seen better days, 
Vincent Anderson was no longer the loosely held together bucket of 
bolts Merlo had left behind in 2020. 


"He's not going to be able to shoot lightning at me if | go in there, is 
he?" Merlo asked. 


"None of the repairs he made were to systems that support 
thaumatological effects," Labelle said reassuringly. "Even so, that’s 
still a heavy duty anti-thaumaturgic cell. He couldn't levitate a penny, 
let alone harm you." 


Merlo nodded in understanding, then sighed. 


"Alright then," she said. "Guess I'm going in." 


kKkKKE* 


"Afternoon, Sasha," Anderson said with a grin as Merlo entered his 
cell. "At least | think it's afternoon. You lose track of these things 
when you can't see the sun or a clock." 


"Afternoon, Vincent," Merlo replied, taking a seat across from him at 
the cell's table. "| see you finally repaired your voice module. Again." 


"The 'uhs' and 'ums' get grating after a while, even to me," Anderson 
shrugged. "How are Gabe and Jessie doing, anyway? She's, what, 
ten now? Fun time to be a parent, I'm told."