On the other hand, there were times when the Marine Corps way of 
doing things could be useful. Like when you were a lone marksman 
on the roof of a Hong Kong building trying to stop three big vans full 
of bloodthirsty Triad gangsters. 


At times like those, there were few things that felt more comfortable, 
more familiar, to him, than his old Parris Island indoctrinations. 


"This is my rifle," he murmured, as he shifted over to his weapon 
and lined up his shot. "There are many like it, but this one is mine." 


He was going to have to time his shot perfectly. It would be best if 
he could catch the convoy just as they were about to exit where the 
street narrowed, between two warehouse buildings. 


"My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. | must master it as | must 
master my life." 


The driver... that would be a tough shot. Maybe he should go for the 
engine instead? 


"My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, | am useless. | 
must fire my rifle true.” 


Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Take up the slack. Line up the shot. 
Get into the rhythm of your own beating heart. 


"| must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. | 
must shoot him before he shoots me." 


Crack. 


The first round was a good one, but Skunkboy was already working 
the bolt and lining up his second, even before the first round hit 
home. He had barely enough time to see the bullet punch through 
the hood of the vehicle, enough time to see the hood start to spew 
smoke. He fired his second shot, was gratified to see the driver's 
side window shatter, but the driver had slammed the brakes so hard 
that the car behind it rear-ended the lead vehicle. He saw the driver 
stumble out of the door and start yelling and waving to his allies. 


"l will." 
Crack. 


Skunkboy saw the driver of the lead car stumble and slump to the 
ground, rolling in agony as he clutched his abdomen. The guy riding 
shotgun was trying to lean over and get the car moving again, so 
Skunkboy put another round through the hood, for good measure. 


Then he got to work. 


Cuntface Teng's first warning was when the two smoke grenades 
came rolling out from the dimly lit warehouse and began spewing 
red smoke all over the area, causing the world to become shrouded 
in a scarlet mist. In the light of the streetlamps, it gave the entire 
place a hellish air. 


"Watch it!" he shouted to his teams. "They may try to escape 


through the smo—" 


There was the sound of rapidly moving feet. He saw the tall female 
foreigner sprinting across the open court. Her eyes were wide and 
wild, and she had a giant knife in her teeth and a gun in each hand. 


Cuntface Teng wanted to laugh. Everyone knew that there was no 
way in hell to shoot straight with a gun in each hand! The foreigner 
had been seeing too many John Woo action movies! 


He ducked behind the van as a wild fusillade of gunfire snapped 
towards him and the boys. The shots were mostly wild, and failed to 
hit anyone, as expected. All he'd have to do is wait for the bitch to 
run out of ammunition, and then... 


He saw Loverboy Lu go down. Something spun in the air where it 
had bounced off his forehead: one of the two pistols the bitch had 
carried. Fatheaded Kai tried to shoot her, got his submachinegun 
kicked out of his hand, and then she beat his face in with the butt of 
her empty pistol before slashing open his throat with that huge 
fucking knife. 


She'd never intended to hit anyone. 


The pistols were just to keep him and his boys’ heads down while 
she closed the distance. 


She slid the empty pistol back into the direction of the warehouse, 
where the big male foreigner stopped it with his foot and reloaded it. 
He raised the pistol in a two-handed grip and began firing slow and 
methodical, hugging the wall of the warehouse. 


Within a few moments, six of his guys were down. Two more killed 
by that crazy bitch with the knife, two of them shot by the big male. 
Teng's will broke. He turned and ran for it. 


As he fled, he could hear the screaming of his two remaining guys. 
After a few minutes, he couldn't even hear that any more. 


Skunkboy often thought that an enemy unit in panic mode looked a 
lot like an anthill, after someone had poked it with a stick. 


There were a bunch of the Triad guys milling around, pointing in 
every direction, shooting out windows at random and yelling at each 
other a lot. It was almost comical. 


A moment like this didn't seem to deserve the solemnity of the 
Rifleman's Creed. It was time for something a little more... upbeat. 


"We shoot the sick, the young, the lame, we do our best to maim," 
he hummed. He knew he had the biggest grin on his face. He didn't 
care. "Because the kills all count the same..." 


Crack! 
"Napalm sticks to kids..." 


He ejected the magazine of his rifle and laid it neatly next to the two 
empty mags he'd already gone through. He carefully seated his third 
magazine, worked the bolt, and raised the rifle back to his shoulder. 


"Flying low across the trees, pilots doing what they please..." 
Crack! 

One more Triad down. That made four. 

"Dropping frags on refugees... Napalm sticks to kids..." 


All things considered, this was actually going pretty well for him. 


"Situation report!" Bullfrog snapped, as the firing ceased. 


"I've got the backup pinned down," Skunkboy reported. "Looks like 
they're getting ready to bug out." 


"Eight down," Kitten said. "One got away. The scarfaced one that 
started the shooting." 


"I'll find him," Zheng hissed. "Lao Feng isn't going to let him get 
away with this. Ten good soldiers dead in one night." 


"| Know," Yang said grimly. "But for now..." He turned back to the 


Asian woman who he had thought was their leader, and bowed 
deeply and respectfully. "My apologies," he said. "| was unable to 
control my men, and put us all in danger. If you had not been ready 
for them, we would have all lost our lives. | promise you, we will find 
the traitor and exact our punishment against him." 


"When | find him I'll feed him his own balls raw. After | cut off a finger 
for each of our brothers he killed," Zheng agreed. 


"| think | can help you with that," Spider said. She pushed her 
glasses up into place, and her dark eyes were fierce and angry. 


Cuntface Teng wept as he staggered through the alleyway alone. 


It just wasn't fair. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. 
American bitches weren't supposed to murder ten trained Triad 
killers with a knife and a pistol. He, Cuntface Teng, was supposed to 
be the terror of Lao Feng's soldiers. The terror of Lao Feng's 
soldiers wasn't supposed to run from a battle with pants stained with 
urine and a giant gash across one arm. 


He was going to have to go to Shi Wang Zhou. It was his only 
choice. That faggot Yang would make sure everyone knew what he 
had done... and the Families didn't treat traitors very well. He'd 
gambled and lost... it was time to get out of the game before he lost 
his entire stake. 


He was stepping out into the light of the rising sun when he felt the 
pain stab into his lower abdomen. He screamed as he crumpled 
over and clutched at his stomach... then began to howl in agony as 
a burst of blinding pain started at the base of his spine and raked 
slowly up his back. Then he clutched at his eyes and wept as what 
felt like pure fire stabbed into his optic nerves. 


As the sun rose over Hong Kong, the man they called Cuntface 
Teng writhed and howled in agonizing pain, unable to do anything 
but huddle in the shadow of the abandoned warehouses and 
scream. 


Spider gave the burlap doll one more vicious stab in the groin for 
good measure, before pinning it to the side of the van with Kitten's 
knife. She had stitched the doll together many weeks before, filling it 
with graveyard earth and a dash of silicon oxide. It only needed a 
link to her intended victim to provide the contagion it needed to find 
a target... a link like the blood Kitten had drawn when she had, 
spectacularly, slashed open the unfortunate Teng's arm with her 
kukri. 


"Are we done here, Spider?" Bullfrog asked. 


"Yeah, we're done." She turned to the two Triad leaders and slipped 
back into her childhood Mandarin. "You'll find your traitorous dog of 
a former colleague at the east side of the docks. He'll be screaming 
in agony. Don't take the knife out until you find him." 


"... who the hell are you people anyway?" the fancy man in the nice 
shirt asked. 


"... don't worry about it," Spider replied, smiling disarmingly. "Better 
to think about what you guys are." 


"Which is?" 


"The ones who rooted out the traitor working for Shi Wang Zhou, 
and brought him back to Lao Feng alive." 


She hopped into the back of the van alongside Kitten and Bullfrog, 
who had finished loading the goods into their vehicle while she had 
performed her working. She gave the two perplexed-looking 
Chinese gangsters a cheerful wave as the three of them drove out of 
the warehouse. 


"You do realize," Kitten pointed out, "that we need to retrieve 
Skunkboy, evade the Hong Kong police department, and somehow 
make our way back home now, right?" 


"Yup," Bullfrog said. 


"Just wanted to be sure." The tall woman leaned back her seat and 
closed her eyes. 


A few moments later, she started snoring. 


"Sometimes, | envy that crazy bitch," Bullfrog admitted. 


"That wasn't exactly what | had in mind when | agreed to this joint 
operation," D.C. al Fine said to the shimmering image of the old 
Chinese man sitting in the chair across from her. 


"The objectives were met. The shipment was stopped. The mole 
was rooted out, and soon Shi Wang Zhou's illegal operation will be 
halted," Lao Feng, Leader of the Immortal Lily Brotherhood said. 
He picked up a teacup that didn't exist in al Fine's office and took a 
small, measured sip, before wiping the rim with a napkin and putting 
it back down on the tea table. 


"We also shot up a Hong Kong warehouse, killed over a dozen 
guys, and brought the attention of the Hong Kong PD upon the 
entire thing," al Fine pointed out. "| hope whatever you found out 
from the informant was worth it." 


"It was. We confirmed that Shi Wang Zhou found and took over an 
abandoned Factory manufacturing plant and reopened it. He has 
been pumping out threat entity-level artifacts daily. His quality is 
shoddy, but his prices are much cheaper than his competitors." Lao 
Feng laughed and shook his head. "The irony was not lost on me." 


"Will you need our help in taking them down? | could dispatch a 
couple of Strike Teams." 


"The day that the Immortal Lily Brotherhood needs your help in a 
war against its rival gangs is the day that we finally join your Global 
Occult Coalition," Lao Feng said, smiling politely. "No, | thank you 
for your help, but we shall handle this matter ourselves." 


"Just so long as you hand over all Factory assets to the Coalition,” al 
Fine insisted. 


"Of course. | have no desire to get involved in paranormal matters. 
The affairs of ghosts and gods are no place for a simple Hong Kong 
businessman." 


"You are going to have to, eventually. It's not a good sign that two of 
your most trusted lieutenants tried to pull off a paranormal arms deal 
right under your nose,” al Fine pointed out. 


"| knew of their plans long before. If | had not wished to root out the 
traitor in my organization, we would have... had words... long 
before. As it is, | feel | owe Yang an apology... and an explanation. 
Perhaps it is time to tell him what the Immortal Lily Brotherhood 
really is." 


"He might not be happy. He signed on to join a Triad gang, not an 
ancient Chinese order of monster hunters." 


"He will adapt. Good bye, Ma'am." 


"Good bye, Lao Feng." 


"... You know," Zheng sighed. "One of these days I'm going to end 
up following you into an early grave." 


The two gangsters were sitting together on the balcony of one of the 
Immortal Lily Brotherhood's safe houses, watching the sun set over 
Hong Kong. The city, Yang thought, had never looked more 
beautiful. 


"No one says you need to follow," Yang pointed out. "You could just 
run." 


"Dying would be easier," Zheng said. He put his hand over that of 
his friend's, and leaned in to kiss the other man on the cheek. "As it 
is, you owe me for this, my brother." 


"Dinner at the Lucky Dragon, then? Once the heat dies down?" 


"That would be a good place to start." Zheng laughed. "And maybe 
now we Can enjoy ourselves without that homophobe Teng giving us 
shit." 


"It would be hard for him to call me a faggot with no tongue," Yang 
agreed. 


He kissed Zheng back, and the two men shared a brief moment of 
affection, before walking back into the apartment and turning out the 
lights. Outside, the sun finally dipped below the horizon, shrouding 
the city in twilight. 


"Sequence" 
« "AWTOK" | Return to GOC Hub | Trauma» 


the subject will invariably be able to locate it. During the time that 

SCP-653 is being sought out by a subject, it is possible that another 
person will pick it up and become similarly obsessed with it; this has 
led to an unknown number of individuals actively seeking SCP-653. 


SCP-653 came into the possession of The Foundation when Agent 
Gilson reported finding a boomerang stuck in the ground of Site- . 
She took a photograph of it (pictured above) but did not turn the 
boomerang in. Two days later, Agent Gilson was reported missing 
from Site- and when contact was eventually established via her 
handheld transceiver, she refused to return to Site- . Her reason for 
this was: “I’ve just gone out to get my boomerang back.” Agents 

S and Ancor were dispatched to follow her as this boomerang 
could potentially be an SCP. Nine days later, Agent Gilson found the 
boomerang roughly 17 kilometres away from the town of 
[REDACTED], at which point Agents S and Ancor were ordered 
to engage and retrieve the boomerang. Agent Gilson was killed and 
Agent Ancor accidentally made skin contact with it and became very 
possessive of it, threatening Agent S to stay away. Agent S 
was then ordered to retrieve the boomerang and was forced to 
eliminate Agent Ancor to recover it. The boomerang was then safely 
brought back to Site- so its properties could be established. 


Addendum-653-1: At 11/4/ —_, 9:43pm, an individual was 
apprehended attempting to gain entry into Site- . The individual 
reacted very aggressively when being stopped; he has been taken 
in for study to see the extent of SCP-653's long-term effects. At the 
time of writing (06/9/ ), seven other individuals of varying age and 
ethnicity have been apprehended attempting to enter Site- and 
gain hold of SCP-653. 


« SCP-652 | SCP-653 | SCP-654 » 


"Diplomacy" 


"It's good to see you again, your majesty," Chris said, as he took a 
seat on the camp chair and gratefully accepted a cup of water from 
a raccoon in a green wool tunic. 


"Thou speakest with a forked tongue," replied the red-furred fox 
seated across from him at a computer keyboard. "Else thou wouldst 
free our people from bondage at the hands of their captors." The 
words lingered on the computer screen across from Christopher. He 
wasn't sure who'd managed to set up Carolingian miniscule as the 
font, but it was appropriate, he admitted. 


"Our agreement with the... with your captors... only extends as far 
as this," Chris explained. "And it was a concession hard-won."