"Hello, Dr. Hillenburg. Nice to see you again." LaFerrier did the 
same, and they shook on it. Retreating back into a comfortable 
position in the chair, Hillenburg began. 


"You have continuously gotten exceptionally high scores on the 


loyalty test. Enough to bring attention to yourself, and you should be 
glad to have it. Loyalty test scores are not taken lightly, don't | know 
it?" Hillenburg chuckled. LaFerrier followed suit, and it was 
uncomfortably real. LaFerrier had a sturdy smile cross their face and 
press against their teeth. They must have expected some sort of 
promotion. "So | have come in here to ask you a few questions 
about yourself. Consider it a profile that you will be giving around to 
interested officials. But of course, don't lie." 


"| would never," and Hillenburg knew it. 


"Firstly, | would like you to describe how you got here. Your life 
story, but particularly what led you to work under the Foundation." 


"Of course. | was born in Paris, France, to parents that apparently 
never wanted me. | was brought to the orphanage, and soon picked 
up by a lovely couple. They were old and never had the opportunity 
to have children. Their names were Ebba and Arthur Karlsson. They 
were very sweet and raised me right, and they taught me all the 
conviction | now have. Arthur particularly was a very hard worker, 
and had long hours at construction sites. He always came home in 
terrible pain, but he never complained about it. The only way | knew 
were his terrible moans as he went to crawled into bed. The work 
ethic of that man never left me. He will always be my inspiration, his 
name shall be put on my tombstone if | have any say in it. Ebba was 
sweet and caring but altogether left no impression on my young self. 
After school, in which | always maintained perfect grades, | focused 
all my attention on getting enough money to go to America. It was 
not that | felt the need to leave France, per se, but that | wanted to 
be a part of something big, and America is the biggest you can be. It 
could only be a government job in America for me. | always had 
fantasies of the FBI, or the CIA. | took up police school, excelled in 
every way, and made it into government work, where | was quite 
happy for a very long time. That's when you came to me, and 
offered me a job in something even bigger. The salary was 
exorbitant and honoring, but it didn't matter to me if you paid me in 
dimes. | could not refuse your offer. And here | am." 


"Good. Have you ever traced your birth parents?" 


"No, | felt it wouldn't do me any good to find people who didn't want 


me. 


"Alright." Hillenburg wrote on his clipboard, paraphrasing LaFerrier's 
answers. A transcript of this conversation would be available at a 
later date, so it was an empty task, but Hillenburg wanted time 
between his questions. "Tell me about your time working with 
SCP-2728." 


"SCP-2728?" 
"Yes, tell me about your time on that assignment." 


"As far as | could tell, it was a menial task given to me while they 
figured out where | could truly go to work. One of my first 
assignments. Very simple. All | had to do was walk to a building that 
didn't exist. It got very confusing, and, well you know how it goes. 
You interviewed me. Spotted my double at the building and thought | 
might be an anomaly." 


"Yes, | was there. Tell me about your time working with SCP-2729." 


"That was after a couple of interim assignments, | worked with 
SCP-2729 when it was found out | was affected by it. It's not every 
day you get a perfectly sane man claiming to see invisible soldiers. | 
rather enjoyed that assignment, | still get called in periodically. It lets 
me travel very far and wide around the Pacific, surveying a quite 
harmless and very interesting anomaly. The research team was 
swell as well, always very encouraging and humorous without being 
distracting.” 


"Very good. Now, I'd like you to tell me. What is your first name?" 


"My first name?" Agent LaFerrier paused, suddenly very confused. 
But as always, they were also very compliant. It was only about 
three seconds before they answered. "Victor, but everybody calls 
me Vic." 


"What did the research team working with you on SCP-2728 call you 
by?" 


"LaFerrier. | should have clarified, all of my friends call me by Vic, 
but with all of you we use last names." 


"Yes, but | am certain the research team called you by your full 
name at least once. What did they call you?" 


LaFerrier sat, now truly looking off slightly past Hillenburg's left ear. 
They suddenly sat very stiff. "They called me Victor." 


"Good. What is your middle name?" 
"My middle name is Adams." 


"What did the research team on SCP-2728 say your middle name 
was?" 


"They..." Very, very stiff. "They called me Alphonse." 
"Is your middle name Alphonse?" 
"No." 


"Good, moving on." Hillenburg glanced over LaFerrier, trying to 
check for any hint of lying. If they were being deceitful, they were 
extraordinarily good at it. The only expression on LaFerrier's face 
was that of a mind gone blank. Blank where it wasn't blank before. 
Blank, but only now discovering the white, enveloping blankness. 
"Describe to me how SCP-2729 has affected you." 


"SCP-2729 has rarely affected me, but every once in a while | will 
get a terrible migraine and pass out as SCP-2729 resets. 
Sometimes | only get slight headaches while it flickers." 


"Good. Do you remember being a part of MTF Pi-1, ‘City Slickers'?" 
"I'm an agent of theirs currently." 

"Good, and how many missions have you gone on with them?" 
"Two. | have -" 


"No need, I've been told | don't have clearance to know one of them, 
and it would be dreadful to forget this conversation." 


"Of course." 


be ceased until we can assess the danger first. Feeding shall 
continue, using class D for now. 


« SCP-953 | SCP-954 | SCP-955 » 


"| would like to ask, however. Was your life ever at risk during these 
missions?" 


"Yes," 


"Do you find it peculiar that you would be allowed to go on life 
threatening missions while you have the possibility of fainting or 
becoming incapacitated at any given time?" 


LaFerrier was sweating like they had never sweat before. LaFerrier 
was an anomaly in the system: they seemed to always maintain a 
zen like calm. Except, of course, that they didn't. But that's what it 
says on all of the official reports. And that's how everybody 
remembers it. LaFerrier was certainly beginning to crack. "| had not 
thought of it." 


"Very well. Do you remember the day of May 26, 2014?" 
"| do." 
"Would you mind repeating it to me?" 


"| was told that my double inside SCP-2728 had sent out another 
cryptic message. They felt the need to update me on these things." 


"What time in the day was that?" 
"What?" 
"What time in the day was that?" 


"How should | remember?" This wasn't a sign of anger, LaFerrier 
was entirely sincere. 


"Give me your best guess." 

LaFerrier seemed to ponder this for thirty seconds. 

"| would say that | held the telephone around 2:00 in the afternoon." 
"Where did you take the phone call?" 


"| was in MTF Pi-1's barracks." 


"You weren't." 
LaFerrier fell deathly silent. 


"You were incapacitated and in the infirmary at Site-31. You could 
not have taken that phone call." 


"You must have the records somewhere." 


"We keep extensive records of all of our anomalies, LaFerrier. We 
have been especially careful to keep yours. You see, after the 
SCP-2728 incident, there has always been the wonder of why the 
anomaly reacted to you the way that it did. And after checking the 
records, we have confirmed. LaFerrier, | have heard that phone call 
myself, and | can guarantee you that it was your voice on the other 
line. Agent Omar and Agent Levard also place you at the scene in 
MTF Pi-1's barracks, but see, LaFerrier, you couldn't have taken that 
call, because you were in the infirmary at Site-31." 


LaFerrier's expression hadn't changed since it settled on the deep, 
turmoil of thought that it shown with their uncharacteristically intense 
eyes, flaccid lips, and stiffened back. LaFerrier did not have any 
response. Hillenburg had struck them speechless. 


"Do you remember being in the infirmary that day, LaFerrier?" 
A full minute. "I do." 


"LaFerrier, | would like you to describe how Junior Researcher 
Tallahan was fired while on the job at SCP-2729 with you." 


A long, terrible pause. Hillenburg and LaFerrier locked eyes for an 
indeterminate amount of time, and could feel the sweat coming off of 
the other's brow. Neither seemed to blink. "He hit on me." 


"LaFerrier, Tallahan was a thirty-four year old heterosexual 
cisgendered male. Why would he hit on you?" 


"| was a woman." 


Hillenburg was surprised at how fast that answer came to them, but 
he didn't let it show. "LaFerrier, what is your first name?" 


"Victor." 

"What was your first name?" 
"Victoria." 

"What is your middle name?" 
"| don't know." 


"LaFerrier, do you remember having been a member of MTF 
Sigma-10, 'Working Man'?" 


"Yes." 

"What did they call you by?" 

"Vernon." 

"What is your middle name?" 

"| don't know." 

"LaFerrier, do you remember Incident-URA-1902?" 


LaFerrier had finally broke their facade, but only slightly. Their eyes 
dilated, and their lips twitched with horror. "I do." 


"Agent Victor Adams LaFerrier," Hillenburg stood up. "| need you to 
tell me where you went." 


"What?" 


"After Incident-URA-1902. LaFerrier, you were the only corpse that 
we didn't find of MTF Sigma-10. You had left your type-4 hazmat 
suit, and we found your fingerprints on a knife with Pol-348-17's 
blood on it. LaFerrier, where did you go?" 


"| don't know." 
"You do know. Where did you go.” 


Agent LaFerrier was red. Their eyes darted around the room, their 


mouth half agape. "I don't know.” 
"LaFerrier, after you cut open Tamara Herring, where did you go?" 


LaFerrier slouched, and mouthed "Tamara", and began to hold their 
head in their hands. "I don't know!" 


"After you took the fetus out of her abdomen, LaFerrier, after you 
tore her open, where. Did. You. Go." 


LaFerrier breathed faster than ever before, at a pace unable to be 
maintained. Hillenburg feared that he was running out of time. 
Hillenburg feared that LaFerrier would pass out. But most of all, 
Hillenburg feared LaFerrier. "/ don't know where | went!" 


Hillenburg's voice boomed. "WHERE DID YOU GO?" 


LaFerrier screamed. 


"HOME! 


"Extend your arm." 
"What?!" 
"Extend your arm, LaFerrier." 


They hesitated, tears streaming down them, and then they complied. 
LaFerrier always complied. LaFerrier couldn't not comply. Hillenburg 
pulled back LaFerrier's sleeve, forced his weight upon their wrist to 
hold them there, and stabbed a syringe into their arm. LaFerrier 
screamed in terror, but did not fight back. And soon, he wouldn't be 
able to. LaFerrier slumped in their chair and fell to the floor. 
Hillenburg's heart was racing, but he always maintained composure. 
Hillenburg leaned over LaFerrier's body and held his finger to their 
throat for a pulse. There was none. He was dead. Dr. Hillenburg 
towered over what used to be, in every way, the perfect agent. He 
breathed heavily. Hillenburg calmly stowed his clipboard and tossed 
the syringe. He exited the room, and requested that someone take 
out the body. It was time to speak to the higher ups. 


"Home?" 
"He only said home. Find out where he lived as a child." 
"Sir, we would know if he flew to France, we would -" 


Hillenburg turned to look up at Senior Researcher Rachael 
Davidson, and sneered. "He wouldn't have to have taken a flight. 
Just find out where he lived." 


"Of course." 


She stepped off, her heels clicking down the hallway as she went. 
Hillenburg then went to the elevator, took it three floors up, and 
retreated into his office. Sitting down at his desk was immensely 
calming, and his nerves very soon began to loosen. He looked down 
at his left arm, pulled up his sleeve, and began to call the number he 
had written on it. The phone rang three times before someone came 
to pick it up. 


"Hello?" 


"Hello, this is Dr. Hillenburg. Clearance code 908A-OPO2- 
RE34-9UIO. Is this Site-31 ?" 


This was met with a long pause as the receptionist plugged his 
credentials into a computer, as usual. After about two minutes, she 
spoke again. "Yes, it is." 


"Good. May | speak with Agent LaFerrier? It's urgent." 
"Of course. Please hold." 


And so Hillenburg held, shifting through the transcript of his latest 
encounter with LaFerrier and absently playing with his grey 
sideburns. He then leaned back in his chair, rolled to the other side 
of the office, and put on a pot of coffee. Afterwards, he grabbed at a 
bowl of fruit and pulled out an apple, which he began to chew on. All 
in all, the holding took about ten minutes. 


"Hello?" 


"Hello, Agent LaFerrier. It's Dr. Hillenburg." 
"Ah, of course. Hello, Dr. Hillenburg. How may | help you?" 


"Very simply, actually. We've had a glitch in our systems, and 
currently everyone else is occupied so | took it upon myself to call 
you personally. We don't seem to have your first or middle name 
anywhere in our online documents, and we need it to file your most 
recent assignment. Mind repeating it for me?" 


"Of course. | am Agent Victor Adams LaFerrier. Everybody calls me 
Vic." 


"Thank you dearly, have a good day." 
"To you as well." 


Hillenburg placed the phone down and let out a deep sigh. Of 
course it hadn't worked. Later, he called into the morgue, and they 
reported that no body of any Agent LaFerrier had ever made it to 
their services. They did, however, see an assistant come through 
and seem very confused, forgetting what they were doing that 
brought them down all that way. 


The Coward 


"It's good to see you awake, Nigel." 


Nigel gritted his teeth. He thought of screaming at the placid 
psychiatrist to his right, but he decided to just go with it. Less painful 
that way. 


"Nigel, | Know you don't want me here, but we need to know why 
you did this." 


Nigel sat up in his infirmary bed wearing a grimace meant to look 
like an innocent smile. "Did what, Doctor?" 


The psychiatrist sighed, removed his glasses, cleaned them with his 
shirt. "Nigel, they flushed the amnestic out of your system before it 
could take full effect. And even the memories it did erase aren't 
completely gone. You should know that better than anyone." 


"| don't know what you're talking about." 


"Look, Nigel, we know. We know that you gave yourself an 
unauthorized dose of Class A amnestics. We also know that you 
should be able to remember why. | can show you the blood toxin 
screenings, the brain scans, your responses to memetic triggers. I'm 
here to help you. | just want to talk." 


Nigel couldn't think of any response to that which wasn't screaming. 
After a long pause, the doctor changed tactics. 


"It's been a tough couple of months, hasn't it Nigel?" The psychiatrist 
didn't even bother waiting for a reply before tapping his clipboard 
with his pen. "Why, it says here that one of your brand new 
researchers succumbed to a cognitohazardous Fifthist propaganda 
page. It must have elicited some intense emotions." 


"Succumbed to a cognitohazardous Fifthist propaganda page". 


Bastards make it sound so damn Clinical, thought Nigel bitterly. 
Esperanza didn't just succumb. Put up one hell of a fight against that 
skip. Maybe it would have been better for her if she hadn't. Maybe 
then she'd only be huffing corpses and chanting nonsense instead 
of downing Haldol and screaming nonsense. A clear image of the 
eager young researcher flitting about the lab sliced its way through 
Nigel's awareness. He could see those big, bright brown eyes that 
looked...He flinched and buried his head into his pillow.