He threw the vials into the plastic box on the wall labeled Anomalous 


Biohazard Disposal. He looked back at Foxx, who was putting on his 
shirt. "Right, we're all done here. You're free to go." 


Foxx stood up. "May | read my results?" He put out his hand 
expectantly. 


"What? Yeah, | guess." He passed the clip-board to the well-dressed 
man. 


MEDICAL FILE - CONFIDENTIAL, DO NOT 
DISTRIBUTE 


Name: Aleksander Foxx 
Clearance: Level 2 
Location: Site-19 
Date of Birth: October 15, 1978 
Age: 36 years 
Dates of Testing: - - 
Tests Given: 
¢ Electrocardiography test 
¢ Electroencephalography test 
¢ Marksmanship Exam 


¢ Physical Endurance Test 
¢ Basic Blood Work & Typing 


BACKGROUND INFORMATION 


Aleksander Foxx is a new Agent recently recruited from 
another GOI, Marshall, Carter & Dark. 


Foxx has some anomalous effects which have been 
described in detail below. 


MEDICAL INFORMATION 


SCP-707. However, despite the incredible trauma inflicted by the 
separation of 2 or more layers, brain activity monitors have 
determined that subjects are fully conscious and aware of their 
condition for up to several minutes after the separation event, until 
the subject expires (typically through blood loss or asphyxiation). 


Addendum 707-1: The requested use of SCP-707 as an efficient 
method of procuring viable transplant organs for Foundation uses is 
under review. 


« SCP-706 | SCP-707 | SCP-708 » 


Aleksander Foxx has an allergy to penicillin, but has said 
that he "has not needed to worry about that for a while, 
now," apparently due to his anomalous capabilities. He is 
not on any regular medications of any sort. He stated 
that his anomaly may react with various chemicals, 
including any fungicides or pesticides. 


ANOMALY INFORMATION 


Aleksander Foxx has several anomalous properties, not 
present from birth, but, as he stated it, "gifted to him by 
his employers." 


The most significant anomaly, and most obvious, is the 
fact that his chest cavity is missing his lungs and heart, 
and is instead filled with plant matter that, when 
sampled, showed similar DNA to the mundane species 
Plantae Bryophyta, or standard moss, but with a few 
genetic divergences. 


Through all testing, the matter appears to act like a 
normal pair of lungs and heart, although his breathing is 
significantly shallower, and his "heart" beats significantly 
more slowly (roughly 50 bpm.) 


It appears that his lung actively filters out all toxins in the 
air, accepting only carbon dioxide and pushing out 
anything else. As well, his heart filters out any toxins in 
his veins, including all viral and bacterial infections, and 
most drugs. In case of surgery, it may be difficult to keep 
him unconscious, and dosages should be adjusted 
accordingly. 


As well, the entirety of his blood has been replaced with 
an unidentified black liquid. Mister Foxx states that this is 
due to "the new heart not liking the old blood." 
Attempting to blood-type it has failed, but a transfusion 
will likely not ever be necessary, as any wounds 
(externally or internally) clot incredibly rapidly, leaving a 
threat of bleeding out unlikely. 


Finally, Aleksander Foxx has the capability to identify 
chemical components within food and drink, including 
most non-anomalous drugs and poisons, by either 
smelling it or tasting it. 


When Aleksander got back to his office, a really ugly man was 
waiting for him. He was leaning in Aleksander's chair, drinking 
Aleksander's coffee, and resting his feet on Aleksander's desk. 


Aleksander was not amused. "Can | help you?" 
"| Know who you are,” the man said. 

"Please take your feet off of my desk." 

"| might later, Magpie." 


Aleksander, for the first time that day, felt panic, and froze. "Ukulele, 
right?" 


“That was mel!" the ugly man said cheerfully. "I go by Clef these 
days." He smiled. It was not a very nice smile. 


"Il go by Mister Foxx now." Aleksander sat on top of a nearby filing 
cabinet. "It's funny. You tried to kill my family when | was a boy. Now 
we work for the same team, apparently.” 


"| wouldn't say the same team. It's not like it used to be, kiddo. Used 
to be everyone fought for the same purpose. Now everyone has 
their own agendas... plots within plots... it's enough to give amana 
headache." 


"A pretty good life lesson from the guy that killed my mother." 


Clef smirked. "Not the first mom I've killed," he said bitterly. "I came 
over to give you a couple of welcome gifts." 


"What could you offer that | don't already have?" 


"| can get you a PAVISE." 


Aleksander stared down the greasy man sitting in his chair. "... 
Bullshit." 


"I'm serious. | can get you a fully functional PAVISE — undamaged 
and with all safety systems disconnected — for all of your reverse- 
engineering pleasure." 


"PAVISE is GOC technology. If you had one, the Foundation would 
have better invisibility tech of their own." 


"Utilizing them is still held up in red tape: holdovers from the post- 
Bowe era. | can get you a head start." 


Aleksander thought for a moment before replying. "I will take it. But 
do not expect anything in return." 


"It's in your filing cabinet." 


Aleksander got off the filing cabinet and opened the top drawer. "... 
So it is. Filed under 'P' even." 


Clef smirked. "Organization is the key to efficiency. I've got a second 
gift for you, as well.” 


Aleksander started to fiddle with the device. "Oh?" 


"One of our employees has been... overstepping, lately. Been 
investigating you without permission to do so." 


"| noticed my desk phone was double-bugged. Wasn't sure which 
one was the official one, so | left them both be." 


"We'd like you to... talk to him." 
"Who is he?" 
"The dossier is also in your filing cabinet." 


Aleksander opened the second drawer of his filing cabinet. "So it is. 
Filed under 'S' this time. | imagine for 'Silence'?" 


"Also 'Snitch'." Clef glanced at his watch. "Well, would you look at 


the time. I've almost missed my ambiguous, non-existent 
appointment that | have scheduled just when | start to lose interest 
in my current conversation." 


Aleksander stopped fiddling and looked up at the ugly man. "Doctor 
Clef?" 


"Yes?" 


"This is a Mark Three PAVISE. 1990s GOC tech. | could probably 
buy a better one off of Ebay." 


Clef laughed as he left. "Enjoy your six minutes of invisibility!" 


Aleksander waited for Clef to close the door behind him. He never 
did. 


That Fucker. 


Aleksander closed the door, picked up the PAVISE in one hand, the 
dossier in the other, and sat down in his desk. He read the Dossier 
and frowned. 


... He'd have to call a babysitter. He would be home late. 


Doctor Gunnel had had a long day - no leads on Foxx, and he was 
too busy investigating that to do his own research. He swiped his 
security pass, unlocking his apartment within Site-19. It wasn't 
anything particularly special - most of his furniture was still the 
standard-issue equipment they gave everyone, but it had his clothes 
and his personal belongings, so it was the closet thing he had to a 
"home." 


He stepped inside and felt the door slide shut behind him, leaving 
him in pitch darkness. He began to look for the light switch, when he 
heard a voice coming from the shadows. 


"Do you know what | hated about living in London, Gunnel?" 


Gunnel froze. His heart felt like it had stopped beating. He knew this 
was it - his gig was up. Foxx had figured it out. He was going to die. 


"It was the roundabouts, Doctor. | hate roundabouts." 


Doctor Gunnel slowly reached into his pocket. He took out his keys 
and tossed them to the floor, followed by his wallet, then his pocket 
knife. 


"When | want to go somewhere, Gunnel, | like to go in straight lines. 
If | have to make a diversion, | simply turn and eventually return to 
the path | was on." 


Gunnel did not say a word. He'd found his pillbox. He opened it up 
and dry-swallowed the small white tablet inside. 


"Roundabouts take you in such a snake-like path. No one solves 
their problems directly in London." 


Gunnel tossed a small object onto the ground. It hissed softly. Foxx 
did not appear to notice. 


"This is an analogy, Doctor. | do not bribe. | do not blackmail. | go 
directly to the source. | do not drive in circles. Do you understand, 
Doctor?" 


Gunnel breathed in deeply, tasted acrid vapor, and waited to die. 
When he didn't, he began to laugh. "You're an idiot." 


"Hm o" 


"You didn't even notice the nerve-gas grenade. | just took the only 
antidote. You'll be dead in seconds and I'll..." 


A blur of motion. Doctor Gunnel felt the cold steel being pushed 
through his chest. He looked down at the blade piercing his 
stomach, and up at the man who pushed it through him. 


"| don't have lungs," Foxx said. "| would have thought you would 
have learned that in your research." 


Gunnel gurgled. 


"| don't know what kind of spy you are, Doctor Gunnel," Foxx said, 
"but you seem to be a terrible researcher." He put his hand against 


Gunnel's chest and pulled out the blade, watching Gunnel slide to 
the floor in a heap. Then he made sure all of the windows were 
closed and locked, shoved a wet towel under the front door to create 
a makeshift seal, and sat down on the living room floor. 


He pulled out a phone from his jacket pocket. "This is Foxx," he 
said. "Gunnel is dead. Might want to get a Hazmat team in here. 
This room is apparently full of nerve gas." 


Doctor Clef sat on the steps of the apartment building as he watched 
Mobile Task Force Beta-Seven ("Maz Hatters") rush past him. He 
looked up as the heavy footsteps of reinforced dress-shoes sounded 
behind. 


Aleksander was standing behind him, one foot on the railing, the 
other on the concrete. He was examining something on his shoe. 


Clef started to laugh. 

Aleksander frowned. "What is it?" 

Clef giggled. "You look like that fucker from the rum bottle." 
The frown deepened. "Captain Morgan? | do not." 

"You're posed just like him. You look fucking stupid." 
Aleksander stepped off the railing. "Mission analysis?" 


"Well, first question. Did you stab him right away, or did you even 
make any attempt to take him alive?" 


"You were unclear on that point." 
"| did ask you to talk to him." 


"You paused. That could have made it a euphemism for killing the 
man. In any case, after he attempted to murder me with nerve gas, | 
was not inclined to let him live." 


Clef rolled his eyes. "All right, point taken. Any news on who he was 


working for?" 
"No. But it was almost certainly not your Overseer Council." 
"What the hell makes you say that?" Clef asked. 


"Nerve gas grenades and antidote pills," Aleksander explained. 
"Why use something so awkward when one has access to 
cognitohazards?" 


"Good point. I'll take that under advisement." Clef slapped 
Aleksander on his back. "Anyway, you proved you could do what 
needed to be done. Welcome to Lambda-Two." 


The confusion spread from Alexander's forehead to the rest of his 
face. "What's a Lambda-Two?" 


Aleksander was just about to fall asleep when the phone rang. He 
groggily reached out to it before mumbling a sleepy "Hello?" 


"| hear you move. Why you no call me? You are trying to avoid me, 
Smart Alek?" 


Aleksander felt his bones chill. "Hello, Babushka." 


"You not can hide from me, Alek. My bears, they will find you. Bears 
are everywhere, Alek. Even in city, bears are nearby. In zoo, in 
forest, always there are bear." 


"...1 know, Babushka. | wasn't hiding from you, I've just been busy 
with my new job." 


"You still kill the people, Alek? Bozhe moi, why | ever take you in? 
Your mother must be spin in grave. You can do much better thing 
than kill people for dirty merchant." 


"... Babushka, | first saw you kill a man when | was seven. | watched 
you drink his blood." 


"That is way of bear, Smart Alek! Cubs in danger, mother bear kill 
without mercy! You have lost way of bear. You kill for money. Bear 


never kill for money. You forget example of Cousin Yevgeny? He 
fuck entire town because try to use bear to kill for money. Idiot. 
Some day you also will fuck self because kill for money. Also, why 
you not bring Lucille to stay with me?" 


"Babushka, Lucille is not going to go and live with you." 


"Is better Lucille live with great-grandma! Even if you good father, 
girl need mother or grandmother, teach ways of woman and ways of 
bear. Maybe you not send Lucille to live with me. Is fine. But you 
should find good, strong Russian woman to remarry. At least teach 
Lucille way of woman if cannot teach way of bear. | go now, Alek. 
You call me back soon. | love you." 


"... [love you too, Babushka." 


The phone went click. Aleksander rolled over and returned to his 
dreams. 


Sidestep. Parry. Swipe. Miss. Draw. Fire. Roll. Duck. Slice... 


We Got A Good Thing Here 


Aleksander knew there was going to be trouble when the woman 

pulled up to the airport curb in a cherry-red convertible, wearing a 
low-cut blue dress and a flower-patterned silk scarf. "Aleksander 

Foxx?" she asked. 


"Yes, that is me,” Aleksander said. 


"Andrea S. Adams. I'm your ride." She opened what would have 
been the hood in a sane, sensible car, revealing a miniscule trunk 
space mostly filled with an oversized travel bag and two hard-sided 
plastic cases. "Toss in your bags." 


Aleksander complied, then climbed in the front passenger's seat. 
"This vehicle is hardly inconspicuous," he said. 


“Trust me. Where we're going? An economy car would stick out 
even more." 


"| don't suppose you'd like to explain where that is? Dr. Clef was not 
exactly forthcoming in his mission briefing.” 


Adams smirked. "I wouldn't dare ruin the surprise." 


Aleksander sighed inwardly. This was going to be one of those 
missions. 


"| need you to head down to Arizona and serve as backup for 
Adams," Clef had said the day before. "Something came up and | 
need her to take care of something for us." 


Aleksander had not yet met his executive officer since joining 
Lambda-2. What information he could glean about her from others 
painted a series of contradictory images, but the three most 
common descriptors were "lethal," "competent," and "attractive." 


Aleksander added "unpredictable" to his mental profile of Senior 
Special Agent Adams. She was, after all, the type of woman who 
rented a Porsche as her travel vehicle. 


The hour-long drive through the desert was the very definition of 
uneventful, and the conversation limited to pleasantries. Their drive 
ended at the front gate of a luxurious resort hotel inexplicably 
located in the middle of nowhere. "Do you know where this is?" 
Adams asked. 


Aleksander considered lying, then decided against it. "It is Ruby 
Mesa Resort,” he said. "Run by Marshall and Carter Vacation 
Enterprises." 


"Yup. Not quite as highbrow as Diamond Mountain, but it definitely 
has its charms." 


Ah. Much became clear. "This is about the youth camp incident from 
May, yes?" 


"In a manner of speaking. It seems that someone from your old 
workplace has some information about that incident they want to 
pass on to us. But they want to do it discreetly, hence why I'm 
coming here for a weekend getaway." 


"| have been here before," Aleksander pointed out. "They will 
certainly recognize me." 


"They're going to recognize me too. I'm not using an alias." Adams 
grinned as she pulled up to the valet. "Being one of the agents who 
helped settle Camp Granada has to be worth a comped weekend 
getaway, right?" 


"Not really," Aleksander said. "That is not the way that Marshall and 
Carter do things."