"| remember how to get to Spectrum," Chelsea said. She stopped at 
the red light, resting her hands at the ten-and-two positions on the 
steering wheel. 


Adams, meanwhile, was busying herself by drumming along with the 
music on the radio. Her eyes were closed and her face was screwed 
up into a look of intense concentration as she lightly tapped her 
hands against her thighs, the car door, and the back of Chelsea's 
seat. Blaire was resting her hands on her knees and staring straight 
ahead, smiling pleasantly. 


Iris rested her forehead against the cool glass of the car window and 


stared out at the sidewalk. An Asian woman dressed all in black was 
leaning against the streetlight, doing something on her cell phone. 


Their eyes met briefly, and then the other woman flinched and 
looked away, staring into her phone's screen. 


1930 Hours 


The Original Spectrum Bar and Grill 


"Cover fee is ten bucks, but they'll give you two vouchers for five 
bucks each," Adams explained. "If you guys are hungry, you can get 
food, but | usually spend it on drinks. Mostly just a way to make sure 
that anyone who comes in spends money." 


"Is that a problem?" Iris wondered. 


"Spectrum's kinda popular with celebrities. Sometimes people come 
in just to watch." 


There was a big line outside, but Adams walked past it and right up 
to the big man in the tight black t-shirt standing at the door. "Hey, 
Kurt!" she shouted. 


"Andrea! What's up, babe?" The big man extended his hand, and 
Adams gave him a high five and a friendly hug. "Got some friends 
with you tonight?" 


"Three of them. I'll cover all of them." She slapped a pair of twenties 
into the bouncer's hand. 


"Hey!" an angry-looking guy in a dark grey suit shouted. "How come 
she don't have to get in line?" 


"Cause | like her, and | don't like you," Kurt growled. "Go on inside, 
babe." 


Adams herded the other three women past the front door. There 
was an explosion of light and sound. Loud rock music played over 
the loudspeakers as waitresses in tight jeans and black t-shirts 


expertly navigated big trays of sandwiches and pizzas through the 
crowd, towards the red naugahyde booths. Framed photos of 
celebrities hung on every wall, many of them signed in sharpie or 
silver pen. The entire place had an air of barely controlled bedlam. 


Iris was relieved, then, when Adams led them past all of that chaos, 
up a narrow flight of stairs, and into a quiet upstairs lounge. A young 
blonde in black leather tended bar while a few people milled around 
a stage where a man wearing a long cashmere scarf was tuning his 
guitar. 


"Hey, Trish," Adams said. "Who's the music?" 
"Hey, Andrea. Some local guy." 

"He any good?" 

"Don't know. Never heard him before." 


"Guess we'll find out tonight." Adams slid into a barstool and 
gestured for the other women to take seats at the counter as well. 
"Anyway, this is Iris," she said, patting the younger woman on the 
shoulder. "This is her 21st birthday party." 


"Cool," Trish said, smiling. "Mind if | see that ID?" 


Iris handed it over. Trish gave it a quick glance and handed it back. 
It took Iris a couple of tries to put it into her pocket. 


"So, what'll it be?" the bartender asked. 
"| dunno... shot of cinnamon whiskey all around?" 
"I'm not drinking," Chelsea said. 


"Oh yeah. Then one shot for Iris and Blaire, and make mine a 
double." 


Trish rolled her eyes. She began laying out shot glasses onto the 
counter. 


"So," Iris asked awkwardly. "| know Adams, but what exactly do you 


two guys do... um. For the company?" 


"Ohl" Blaire said. "| guess we never did mention that. I'm Tilda's 
assistant." 


"Tilda?" Iris asked. A couple more people wearing plaid shirts and 
trucker caps came up the stairs and stood by the stage. They 
started chatting with the blond young man on stage. Friends of his 
maybe? 


"Tilda Moose," Adams interrupted. "Director of '19." She picked up 
the full shot glasses and passed one to Blaire and one to Iris, 
keeping the highball for herself. "Cheers," she said. 


"Cheers!" Blaire replied. 


Adams and Blaire drank their drinks down in one shot. Iris took a 
careful sip of hers. It tasted like Red Hots candies... mixed with 
burning. "You're at Site 19?" she asked, as Trish turned to refill 
some drinks at the other end of the bar. "That's um... not exactly 
nearby, is it?" 


Adams, Blaire, and Chelsea gave each other surprised looks, then 
understanding seemed to dawn. A sly smile crept over Adams' face. 
"Think | should tell her?" she asked. 


"Let her find out herself," Blaire said, grinning. "| wouldn't dare spoil 
the surprise." 


Iris stared down at her drink. She gulped the whole thing down in 
one shot (on the ‘it's better to jump down the deep end' logic), and 
immediately wished she hadn't as fire shot into her sinuses, making 
her cough. 


Adams laughed out loud and thumped Iris's back. "Careful there, 
short stuff," she said. "The night's still young." 


Up on the stage, the quiet young blond man cleared his throat into 
the mic. "Hi," he said. "I'm Tom Dylan Porter and this is a song | call 


"Your Love Is Like a River’. 


"Oh Lord," Adams groaned loudly. 


The musician gave her an angry glare, but began to play his guitar 
anyway. 


He was okay, Iris decided. Adams seemed to disagree. She did 
shots the entire time he was performing. 


"God, that was torture," Adams groaned, as they staggered out the 
front door. She nearly collided with a young woman wearing a black 
leather jacket and a newsboy cap waiting in line. "Fucking hacks..." 


Iris stared intently through the swimming, swirling world. Blaire was 
quiet, walking oddly stiffly and upright, seeming to have gotten even 
more prim and proper over the course of the night. Chelsea had the 
haggard, harried look of a mouse being stalked by a very large and 
hungry cat. 


They poured Adams into the front passenger seat, then Blaire and 
Iris took the back seats. Chelsea's lips were set in a firm, resolute 
line as Adams rolled down the window and took a deep breath of the 
cold night air. "YOU SUCK!" Adams shouted at no one in particular. 


Iris glanced out the window at the crowd waiting in line. The woman 
who Adams had nearly collided with was glaring angrily at her. lris 
sympathized. 


Interim: Fifteen Minutes Prior 


Command Vehicle, Mobile Task Force Sigma-4 
("Chain Chomps") 


"This has to be the most boring assignment ever," Harken said. He 
picked up his fast food hamburger and took an unenthusiastic bite, 
resting his hand on the steering wheel of the supposed police car. 
"All right, then. What's next on their agenda?" 


"According to the itinerary? A little Irish pub uptown," Mario said. 
"We'll wait until they say they're heading out, and then we'll move on 
ahead." He picked up his radio and spoke low and crisp into the 


handset. "Sigma-Four, report in," he said. 


"One okay," replied a staticky voice over the radio. "Still nothing 
interesting going on." 


"Two. No updates. I've seen more action at a church picnic." 
"Thr—" 
"HELLO!?" a woman's voice shouted. 


Mario glanced up at a young Asian woman dressed in a black 
leather jacket and a newsboy cap knocking on front passenger's 
side window. Harken glanced over and quietly put a hand on his 
sidearm. 


Mario waved him off and rolled down the car window. "Yes, miss? 
Can | help you?" he asked. 


"| was just wondering if you could direct me to the Spectrum?" the 
woman asked, resting her hand on the roof of the car. 


"Right across the street," Mario said. 


The woman rolled her eyes and smiled. "Duh, sorry about that. 
Thanks, officer." 


"No problem,” Mario said. He rolled up the window as the woman 
jogged across the street. A brief moment later, his cell phone 
beeped: incoming text message. 


He checked the message, picked up the radio again. "All right, pull it 
in," he said. "Teams one and two, proceed to the next stop. I'll escort 
the package." 


Movement from several different rooftops and darkened alleys. The 
perimeter team for Mobile Task Force Sigma-Four retreated from 
their overwatch positions. Two of them rendezvoused with Harken 
and Mario: the rest piled into their vehicles. Within a few moments, 
they were on the road, heading towards the next spot on the 
itinerary. 


Harken started up the car as Mario watched the entrance of the 
Spectrum, the two shooters waiting to deploy at any sign of trouble. 
"Package in sight," Mario said, as the four women left the bar. "Wait 
one..." 


Adams nearly bumped into some drunk waiting in line to get in. 
Aside from that, the four women climbed into their car without 
incident. Mario nodded. "All right," he said. "Keep them in view, but 
don't follow them too closely." 


"Got it," Harken said. 


The cop car carrying four members of Mobile Task Force Sigma-4 
headed onto the freeway. A blue rune on the roof of the black-and- 
white glowed briefly, then faded away. Harken didn't even notice 
when he made a left turn towards the suburbs, while the dark red 
car carrying the package turned onto the freeway headed uptown. 


2015 Hours 


Nottingham's Pub and Restaurant 


There was a big crowd gathered in the front room of the picturesque 
little pub when the four women walked in. They seemed to be paying 
close attention to a man standing on a low stage, reading off trivia 
questions in a loud, intense voice. 


A big-bellied, red-faced man with a white Santa-Claus beard grinned 
at them as they walked in. "Hey, love," he said, in a heavy Irish 
accent. "You're late for trivia night." 


"Aw, shit... is that tonight?" Adams groaned. "Sorry, Sean, 
completely forgot. This is Iris. She's shele... celebrating... 21 years." 


"Really? Isn't that nice?" Sean replied, a friendly twinkle in his eye. 
"Mind if | see some ID, love?" 


Adams leaned back in her chair and took a big gulp of her double- 


scotch on the rocks, glowering balefully at the other pub-goers, who 
seemed really intent on the trivia questions. Iris took a sip of a 
frightening-looking black foamy liquid that she was told was 
"Chocolate Stout." It didn't taste much like chocolate. 


She took a quick glance at the other members of the party. Chelsea 
was staring intently at her cherry cola. If she were a cat, her hackles 
would be up. Blaire was outside: allegedly taking a cigarette break, 
possibly also taking an Adams break. 


This whole "bar crawl" thing was starting to wear a bit thin, Iris 
decided. It was just the same thing over and over again. Go to yet 
another weird locale where everyone seemed to know Andrea. 
Order yet another round of weird-tasting drinks that made her feel 
funny and didn't taste that good. Listen to a bunch of loud people 
yelling incomprehensibly. 


"Hey, Adams?" she said tentatively. 


"Hold that thought, love," Adams said. "| need to douse some 
flames." 


The older woman got unsteadily to her feet and marched into the 
ladies' room. 


Iris sighed and stared morosely into her drink. 
"Not having fun?" Chelsea asked. 


"... not really,” Iris admitted. "It's all really loud. | think I'm getting a 
headache." 


"Yeah, | feel you," Chelsea whispered. She was looking around at 
the big crowd, biting her lower lip nervously. "Tell you what. When 
Andrea gets back, just tell her you want to end after WingDings. 
That place is a lot quieter: mostly a hot wings place. It'll be a nice 
way to end the evening." 


"If you say so," Iris said dubiously. "I guess this isn't my thing. Not 
like it is for Andrea." 


"Andrea's..." Chelsea waved her hands helplessly. "... unique." 


"The single most extroverted person in the universe?" Blaire offered. 
She sat down across from Iris, next to Chelsea. 


"That's not a bad way to think about it," Chelsea admitted. "She's fun 
to be around, but she can be incredibly exhausting." 


"No kidding,” Blaire said. 


Iris took another sip of her chocolate stout. She grimaced at the 
bitter taste and pushed it away. "So, uh. Chelsea," she said, by way 
of chancing the conversation. "| know what you do, and what Adams 
does. What exactly do you do at the uhh... the company?" 


Chelsea gulped nervously. "I'm a botanist by trade, but uhhh..." she 
glanced over at Blaire. 


"She can't tell you,” Blaire said, softly but firmly. "Not in public." 


Oh. One of those jobs, then. "Same job description as me?" Iris 
asked. 


"In... umm. In a manner of speaking," Chelsea said nervously. She 
was fiddling with the hem of her sweater dress, playing with a loose 
yarn that had started to unravel. 


Iris looked away from the obviously distressed young woman, 
feeling guilty. As she did so, the front door of the pub opened up and 
an Asian woman walked in, wearing a blue button-down shirt over 
black jeans and a red scarf. 


Iris suddenly felt very cold. 


It was the same woman she'd locked eyes with at The Armory... and 
if she didn't miss her guess, the same one that Adams had bumped 
into outside the Spectrum. The clothes were different, but the face 
was the same. What did Adrian always say? "Once is accident, 
twice Is coincidence, three times..." 


"... three times is enemy action," Iris whispered. 


"What's that?" Adams asked, as she flopped back down into her 
seat. 


Object Received: A small cardboard box measuring 15 x 20 x 
15 cm with holes in it. Contained a 6-week old live guinea pig. 


Notes: SCP-702-1 took the dog collar, then told D-25135 to wait a 
couple minutes and went back into SCP-702. After about three (3) 
minutes, SCP-702-1 reappeared with the box. 


Experiment 702-015: 


Name of Researcher: Dr. 
Interacting Personnel: D-3415 


Object Traded: One paperback copy of Twilight by Stephanie 
Meyer 


Object Received: One paperback copy of Dianetics by L. Ron 
Hubbard 


Notes: None 


Experiment 702-016 


Name of Researcher: Dr. Elexion 

Interacting Personnel: D-2175 

Object Traded: The results of the previous experiment by Dr. 
Object Received: Teen Titans Go!: The Complete First Season. 


Notes: That makes sense. | think... 


Experiment 702-017 


Name of Researcher: Dr. Alison 


Interacting Personnel: D-2175 


"Don't turn around," Iris whispered, "and don't look directly at her. 
But the Asian woman sitting at the end of the counter?" 


"_.. the one in the red scarf?" Chelsea asked. 


"... | think | saw her back at The Armory. And at The Spectrum," Iris 
said. 


Adams sat up very straight, and the vaguely distant look in her eyes 
went away. "Are you sure," she asked calmly. 


"Ninety percent sure," Iris said. "Is she part of the MTF?" 


"Sigma-Four's all men." Adams pulled out her smart phone and 
tapped a few buttons. "They're not answering,” she said grimly. 


"Suggestions?" Blaire asked. She'd put down her glass of cider and 
was taking deep, slow breaths. One hand slipped inside her purse 
and pulled out a canister of pepper spray. 


"It could just be a coincidence. Or a mistake. In any case, | think we 
should settle up and exfiltrate," Adams said. She pulled a couple of 
bills out of her pocket, folded them in half, and left them under a salt 
shaker. "When | give the signal, | want you guys to get up and walk 
out of the bar. Go to the car and wait there. If | don't come out in... 
let's say fifteen minutes... leave without me and call in the big guns.” 


"What are you going to do?" Iris asked. 

Adams gave the younger woman a confident wink. She took a deep 
breath and walked right across the room, straight towards the Asian 
woman sitting at the bar. 


"Hey," she said, giving the stranger her biggest, most winning smile. 
"Can | buy you a drink?" 


Girls' Night Out 


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Museum of Idiots 


Hall of Site- 
Containment area for the Little Misters 
Mr. Stripes