another warding charm. The first one could probably hold out 
indefinitely if Sierra continued flicking bullets at them one at a time, 
but if she launched them all at once, the accumulated kinetic energy 
would make the charm glow hot enough to burn Thorne's wrist. 
Adding another charm just provided another sink for the absorbed 
energy. 


"Is that so?" The dancing helix of bullets came to a stop as Sierra 
paused her assault, curiosity getting the better of her. 


"Yeah, it is." Thorne took the momentary reprieve to eject the unfired 
bullet they had just chambered, catching it out of the air with their 
left hand. "You know those flickering messages you kept leaving as 
a calling card? Well, we did a little chemical analysis of the paints 
you used, identified the supplier as Iris Arts. The Foundation hadn't 
been able to do that before we got involved. Iris only operates in 
areas under the Hoover Mandate, so the Foundation didn't have any 
composition samples from them." 


Sierra frowned. "Iris has thousands of customers. You couldn't 
possibly have identified me based on that alone." 


"You're right," Thorne said. They closed their eyes and focused on 
the bullet they were holding while they continued talking. "We talked 
to an anart expert too. Quinton Wright, you've probably heard of 
him, he's a pretty big name in Three Ports critique circles. He knows 
the styles of just about every anartist worth knowing. Another lead 
the Foundation wouldn't have been able to follow without our help." 


"And what did Quinton tell you?" Sierra asked, an impatient tone 
tinging their voice. 


Thorne needed to keep the anartist distracted a little bit longer so 
that they could finish their spell. "Wright gave us a list of anartists 
who used that kind of exploit in their signatures. And what would you 
know, when we cross-referenced the two lists, there you were. 
Sierra Dustin, small-time anartist with an outspoken hatred for the 
restrictions on public anart displays. Foundation scooped you up for 
questioning and a stern warning back in '07, and then you dropped 
off the map after that. Seemed like a pretty obvious suspect. After 
that, it was just a matter of canvassing past associates until one of 


SCP-749 appears to avoid detection prior to these attacks due toa 
combination of both visual and aural camouflage: When actively 
hunting prey, SCP-749 will alter its hue to match even complicated 
surfaces, such as stonework, rendering it visually almost 
undetectable until it strikes. The unique pattern of walking and form 
of legs possessed by the creature causes it to emulate and therefore 
blend in with the sound of raindrops impacting hard surfaces. 
However, due to the fidelity with which SCP-749 replicates this 
sound, varying the sound based on the surface, SCP-749 either is 
intelligent enough to vary its walking patterns based on surface, or 
exudes a non-vibration based effect that causes it to be heard as 
raindrops by potential prey. 


« SCP-748 | SCP-749 | SCP-750 » 


them told us where you were." 


Sierra had been listening intently this whole time, and nodded now 
in understanding. "| underestimated you Suits. If I'd known you were 
so resourceful, | would have been more careful in Portlands." The 
swarm of bullets began to rotate again as she prepared to resume 
her attack. 


Thorne opened their eyes as they finally finished the spell. "You 
know what the hardest part was though?" 


"What's that?" 


"Stalling you long enough to do this," Thorne said, diving out of 
cover and unloading their gun in Sierra's direction. 


The anartist didn't even blink as the bullets stopped mere inches in 
front of her. "Again? You disappoint me, Agent Thorne." She raised 
her hands to hurl the entire cloud back at Thorne. 


Thorne grinned. "Actually, | was talking about this." They opened 
their clenched fist, releasing the single bullet they had ejected 
earlier. As it fell towards the ground, it emitted a soft blue glow. 


The part affects the whole... 
The magic bullet hit the floor and shattered. 


The cloud of recently-fired bullets in front of Sierra exploded. 


Spencer exited the hall onto the third-floor gallery overlooking the 
atrium, followed at a short distance by Agent Green. On the floor of 
the atrium below, Sierra and Thorne could be seen engaging in their 
duel. Neither one of them seemed to notice the two agents enter. 


"Looks like Thorne's holding their own," Green said, crouching down 
behind the railing to avoid being seen by Dustin. 


"For now," Spencer said. He crouched down next to Green. "We 
need to get down there and help." 


"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not get caught in the crossfire of 
a wizard duel." 


Spencer frowned. "It doesn't look too bad." 


There was the sound of gunshots from below, followed by an 
explosion. 


Green looked at Spencer. "You were saying?" 


"Okay, maybe you have a point." He peered over the railing to check 
on the duel. "Whatever just happened, Dustin's still standing. | can't 
see Thorne though... no, wait, | see them now." 


"Well, as long as we're up here and unseen, why don't we just shoot 
the artist while we have the element of surprise?" Green gestured to 
his coilgun. 


Spencer turned to look back at him. "Where did you get that?" 
"Does it matter?" 


Spencer opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it, and just 
shook his head. "I don't think it would work anyways. Dustin's got 
some kind of spiral of bullets circling her, probably from Thorne 
shooting at her. For all we know, our shots would get caught in it 
too." 


Green peeked over the railing to see for himself. "Yeah, looks like 
you're right." He paused, studying the scene. "Aha, there! Notice 
how she keeps moving the fingers on her left hand? Same gesture 
repeating every five seconds. That's exploiting if | ever saw it." 


There was a flash of light and sound from below, and for a moment 
Green thought he could taste the color blue. 


They both looked down to see Thorne rapidly backpedaling from 
Sierra, who was attempting to hit them with blasts of magic. Thorne, 
for their part, was managing to deflect or divert the incoming energy, 
but wherever the blasts hit, ice quickly formed in a wide radius. 


"There's no way Thorne can defend against something like that for 


long,” Spencer said, concern creeping into his voice. "Whatever 
we're going to do, we need to do it now." 


"We need to take out her hands first." Green said. "Stop her from 
using exploits so we can get a clear shot." He started looking around 
the gallery to see if there was anything that could help in that goal. 
His eyes alighted on a piece of anart — a globe made from sculpted 
water — on the other side of the room. "And | think | just found a 
way to do just that." 


Thorne didn't wait for the explosion to dissipate before diving behind 
cover again. They had perhaps a few seconds before Sierra 
recovered and came after them again, and they needed to make it 
count. 


"Is that the best you can do?" Sierra shouted, blinking rapidly to try 
and clear her vision. Her face and arms were covered with tiny 
scratches where fragments of bullet had hit her, but she was 
otherwise unharmed. 


Thorne pulled the first aid kit out of their jacket and dumped the 
contents out on the ground. They grabbed the epipen and jammed it 
into their leg without hesitating. 


What they were doing was dangerous in the extreme. Thaumaturgy 
requires energy like anything else, and for evocation that energy 
comes from the body's calorie reserves. It was why Thorne carried 
around energy bars, to use as a quick source of fuel for heavy-duty 
casting. But they didn't have time to eat right now. Instead, the rush 
of adrenaline from the epipen would boost their thaumaturgy for a 
time, but the energy it provided wasn't real — it only served to let 
them overdraft from their normal reserves. When the adrenaline 
wore off, there was a good chance they'd collapse outright. 


Thorne shoved their hand back into their pocket one last time and 
slipped on their remaining defensive charms, then stood up and 
turned to face Sierra. If they were going to go down, they were going 
to go down fighting. 


Calling up what power they could, and without even bothering to try 


to contain the backlash that would inevitably result, Thorne pointed a 
finger at Sierra and said a single word. 


"Burn." 


Flames sprang forth from their hand and rushed towards the 
anartist, intent on engulfing and consuming her. Backlash from the 
unconstrained working reverberated around the atrium, sparking and 
booming in an array of colors and sounds as reality itself shuddered 
under the force of Thorne's thaumaturgy. Three lemons materialized 
in the air behind Sierra, and then just as quickly vanished. 
Somewhere back on Earth, a vole gained the ability to understand 
Welsh. 


Sierra raised her hand and caught the fireball in her palm. 


"Strike three," she said, extinguishing the flames by clenching her 
fist. "You're out." 


Thorne stared in disbelief as Sierra thrust her hand forwards, 
sending a bolt of pure magical energy directly towards them. They 
barely recovered in time to catch the energy on their wards, 
redirecting it harmlessly into the ground. Ice spread across the 
marble tile where the bolt struck. 


"I'm going to turn you into an ice sculpture," the artist said, throwing 
another freezing blast at Thorne. "I'll put it up in the entrance hall, to 
remind me of the UIU pest who thought they could take on a real 
wizard." 


She sped up her attacks, flinging blast after blast of magic at 
Thorne, driving them backwards and causing their defensive charms 
to glow furiously. It wouldn't be long before they started to overload. 


One of the charms disintegrated, a minute flaw in its enchantments 
causing it to fail under the strain. The remaining charms burned red 
hot as they suddenly took up the extra load, causing Thorne to cry 
out in pain. They fell to their knees and scrabbled to remove the 
burning jewelry. 


Sierra stepped forwards, a look of pure hate on her face and a ball 


of freezing magic conjured in each hand. 


"End of the line, Agent." She raised her hands, preparing to cast the 
final spell. 


A giant globe of water fell on her from above, freezing her hands 
solid as the liquid connected with the ice spells. The bullets that had 
still been orbiting her fell to the ground as the exploit that had been 
propelling them was cut off. 


Sierra shrieked — either in pain or fury — and looked up to see 
Kenneth Spencer looking back down at her. 


"You!" She shouted. 
"Yes, me," he replied. "Green, now!" 


Sierra started to turn to find who Spencer was talking to, but was 
stopped by a flechette slamming into her shoulder at supersonic 
velocity. Blood splattered across the floor and Sierra stumbled 
backwards, but managed to remain standing. 


The artist lowered her hands, the ice around them shattering as she 
willed occult flames into existence. There was an inhuman rage in 
her eyes as she looked between Green and Spencer, trying to 
decide which one to smite first. 


"It's over!" She shouted. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you both. I'll —" 


Whatever she was about to say next was cut-off as her nervous 
system was overloaded by the occult equivalent of a million volts of 
electricity. She fell to the floor, instantly unconscious. 


Thorne was kneeling some distance away, the anartist's blood 
smeared across their hands, which were trembling from thaumatic 
exhaustion. Staring at the defeated Dustin, they said a single word. 


"Featherweight." 


And then they collapsed too, the accumulated expense of their 
thaumaturgy finally claiming its toll. 


An Epilogue 


March 31st, 2017 
United States Penitentiary, Paranormal ADX 
(Paramax) 


In the void, there floats an isolated pocket dimension, 
entirely cut-off from the mainline universe for all but the 
briefest of moments. It holds itself together against the 
encroaching darkness through a series of unfathomably 
complex enchantments layered over a set of gargantuan 
reality anchors. 


This place is a prison. Paramax — an occult Alcatraz for 
the worst paracriminals in North America, built by 
Prometheus Labs and the Foundation, and operated by 
the Unusual Incidents Unit. It is one of the most secure 
facilities in the multiverse. 


Robin Thorne and Kenneth Spencer watched on a CCTV 
feed as Sierra Dustin was escorted into the cell where 
she would spend the rest of her life. The reality enforced 
by the prison's anchors would make it difficult for her to 
perform any exploits, but the nerves in her hands had 
been damaged as an extra precaution. She still had the 
use of her fingers, but she would never again have the 
fine motor control needed to work the exploits that could 
rearrange reality. As for thaumaturgy, Thorne had 
personally double-checked every anti-occult sigil in the 
cell to ensure that they would keep the former anartist 
from using her powers. 


As the cell door clanged shut, sealing Sierra Dustin 
away, Spencer's earpiece chimed to signal an incoming 
call. 

"Go for Spencer," he said. 


"Sir, we've finished preparing the demolition ritual. We're 
waiting for your signal to execute." 


Spencer turned to look at Thorne. "SoHo team just 
reported in. They're ready to collapse the Way any time 
now." 


Thorne smiled grimly. "Do it." 


Spencer nodded and pressed his finger against his 
earpiece again. "You have a go. Send that place back to 
the void." 


"Copy that, sir." The channel clicked shut. 


In Backdoor SoHo, a team of UIU thaumaturgy 
specialists cast the working they had been preparing, 
which was designed to destroy the Way connecting to 
the Museum of Illegal Art, casting it adrift into the 
Outside. Without any means of anchoring its reality, it 
would dissipate back into its abstract concepts. 


Unseen and unheard, the Museum and all its collection 
exited reality. 


« A Farewell To Kings || HUB || 


Vend-a-Friend Hub 


Chapter 1 - We Just Make Toys 
[10 Dec 2017 07:19] [+46] [Comments: 9] [Last Comment: 20 Dec 
2017 23:14] 


"The colorful crowd beamed up at me, smiling their toothy golden 
grins. It felt great, because it went very well. Like it always does. | 
eyed my pals coming down from the stand, gathering my laptop and 
unplugging it from the projector. They gave me those knowing looks 
they always give me, the wordless good-jobs and well-dones. Felt 
good, felt really really good. These are the types of moments | live 
for. They conveniently happen once a month." 


Chapter 2 - To Think I've Spent My Whole Life 
Waiting 

[11 Dec 2017 15:13] [+30] [Comments: 10] [Last Comment: 13 Dec 
2017 14:58] 


"The house was massive, and had a... well, it doesn't sound like a 
beautiful color scheme, but trust me. The dark brown and red were 
very artfully done. It would have made me happy if it weren't for the 
big face painted on the top. It felt like it was looking at me. | didn't 
like it at all. | climbed up the hill and out of the forest, up into the 
clearing around the house. The yellow pathway up to the house 
winded unnecessarily, but | followed it anyways because it was a 
charming detail." 


Chapter 3 - | Don't Get It, | Functioned Before 
[13 Dec 2017 08:19] [+29] [Comments: 6] [Last Comment: 13 Dec 
2017 20:47] 


"| was crumpled on the couch, and the two kids were playing with 
the huge tubs of legos behind me. Cinnamon buns, warm blankets, 
some reassuring words, and The Aquabats had finally managed to 
calm them down. | was sure there was a med kit somewhere in the 
house, but | just hadn't the time to find it." 


Chapter 4 - You Can't Win Them All 
[15 Dec 2017 16:07] [+16] [Comments: 4] [Last Comment: 16 Dec 
2017 13:20]