Fox mimed stepping out of the elevator and tapping someone with 
an object, then turned towards another invisible person standing on 
the other side and tapped them too. "She releases Skunkboy and 
Kitten. All three of them see Bullfrog going complete psycho. They 
try to stop him. Big mistake." 


"Bixby focuses on Spider as the big threat... both because she 
unlocked Skunkboy and Kitten, and because she's Asian. Fits the 
profile. Bullfrog plugs Spider twice in the chest: the armor catches it, 
but she goes down with a fractured sternum. Skunkboy and Kitten 
jump him: he shakes them off and grabs Spider. Bullfrog turns on 
Spider and injures her severely." 


Fox's face twisted into a triumphant grin. "Meanwhile, Kitten does 
the smart thing and rushes the Bixby. He tries to interpose 
Skunkboy, but Kitten manages to clock him in the face before it 
happens. The pain disrupts the rest of the illusion... which means 
that Bullfrog gets to see what happens next. Namely, Kitten 
smashing this motherfucker's head in like a goddamn melon. HELL 
yeah!" 


Angela let out a low chuckle. 


"And you wanna know something really great, doc?" Fox asked, 
grinning. "Come look at this." She led Angela to the wet bar at the 
back of the room, where two tall lighting fixtures had been arrayed 
next to the cracked granite countertop. "We found this when we did 
the VERITAS scan of the room. See, it turns out that when certain 
Bixbies, especially psychic ones, undergo emotional trauma? Their 
mind separates..." 


She flipped a switch, bathing the entire wet bar in a sickening 
greenish light. 


It was the ghostly image of a tall, powerfully built woman slamming 
the back of an elderly man's head into the granite countertop. As 
Angela watched, the scene played itself out over and over again: 
The old man shouting orders as he waved an ancient pistol around. 
A fist lashed out and punched him in the jaw. The old man raising 
his hand to his bruised face, shouting silently in alarm. Then a tall, 
powerfully built woman grabbing him by the hair and delivering a 
powerful headbutt, stunning him. Then a few short seconds of Kitten 
dragging the man over to the bar and cooly, calmly, violently and 
methodically, smashing it into the countertop over and over and over 
again. 


"| could look at this for hours," Fox admitted. "Just... look at that." 
"It's certainly... impressive," Angela admitted. 


"Isn't it?” Fox laughed. "And you know what the best part is? They 
say that part of this... part of this is a little bit of the Bixby's own 
mind... his own point of view... stuck in an endless loop. Reliving 
the trauma over and over again. | almost wish they weren't going to 
demolish and decontaminate this thing. I'd sleep better at night 
knowing there's a tiny bit of this bastard constantly getting his head 
smashed for all eternity." 


"I'm going to ask you a series of questions," Angela said on the 
elevator ride down. "And I'm going to request and require you to be 
as truthful as possible." 


"Sure thing. | got nothing to hide," Fox said. 


Angela nodded in reply and closed her eyes meditatively. "Has he 
had trouble sleeping?" 


"Sometimes," Fox admitted. "Lately he's been able to get through it 
all night without waking up. He still has bad dreams, though." 


"How do you know?" 


"He thrashes around. Makes moaning noises. Keeps me up all night 
sometimes." 


"What do you do on the nights he keeps you up?" Angela asked. 


"Usually | go out onto his balcony and read a book or a casefile. 
Might as well get some work done." 


Angela nodded again. "You volunteered to help with the 
investigation and decontamination of the site," she said. "Do you 
have training in such?" 


"| did a couple of years with Assessment before | transferred to 
Strike. And mostly I've just been another pair of hands. Grabbing 
and bagging and tagging and taking snapshots." 


"How is your team functioning in your absence?" 


"We're getting ready to start the next training cycle. Nothing big. 
Jackal's been handling the setup and paperwork for me. He's done it 
enough times to know what he's doing." Fox nodded and took 
another deep breath. "Actually, I've been thinking about requesting 
an extension on my leave." 


"Oh?" 


"Yeah," Fox said. "There's nothing big going on back home, and Bull 
could use my help." 


"| see. Next question. Do you know what ‘survivor's guilt' is?" 


"Of course. It's what happens when you feel like you did wrong for 


throughout the facility did not document any intruders or 
unauthorized entry into the morgue. 


« SCP-654 | SCP-655 | SCP-656 » 


getting through something that someone else didn't. The shrink 
talked to me about it back after | lost a few team members in a 
botched op." 


"| see," Angela said. "One last question, Agent Fox. Do you ever 
relive the traumatic experience of visiting a close friend and loved 
one for a weekend together, only to find out that they had recently 
suffered from a mental, spiritual, and physical violation?" 


Subject has expressed trouble sleeping since the 
incident, and has reported several incidents of bad 
dreams and flashbacks to the event. Continued therapy 
has been effective in alleviating these symptoms, but the 
subject remains below expected parameters. It is my 
recommendation that Assessment Team 735 
"Sparkplug," including Agent 438565 18/735 "Bullfrog," 
continue psychological rehabilitation for a period of thirty 
(30) days before being allowed to return to active duty. 


Signed on this date by the officer in charge, Dr. Angela 
Schowalter, Human Resources Department, PTOLEMY 
Division. 


Angela signed the form with her thumbprint, authenticated through 
the "Brainlock" Captcha, and sent the report off to her higher ups. 
She leaned back in her chair, taking another sip of her coffee, before 
clicking the "NEW REPORT" button on her computer screen. 


SUBJECT: Agent 42921102/1102, "Fox" 


CAREER SERVICE VITAE: Subject is a long-time 
veteran of PHYSICS Division, including multiple tours of 
duty in both Assessment and Strike. Subject has been 
decorated multiple times for bravery and valor in the line 
of duty. Personnel evaluations cite her cool demeanor 
under fire and personal bravery in combat. 


CONTACT HISTORY SUMMARY: Made initial contact 
with the subject after subject's Acknowledged Paramour 
(who had recently undergone a traumatic event in the 


line of duty) expressed concern for subject's mental and 
emotional state. Initial contact was made to determine 
whether Acknowledged Paramour's concerns were 
accurate, or were an attempt at emotional transference. 


Subject asked to meet the Officer at the scene of the 
traumatic event to Acknowledged Paramour. Subject 
showed a heightened affect, including excessive desire 
for vengeance against the instigator of the traumatic 
event. Subject also expressed trouble sleeping 
(indicating that she had remained up all night on multiple 
locations), and an unwillingness to return to the living 
room where she initially heard of the event (preference 
for sitting on the patio to read, despite the dim lighting 
conditions). Subject acknowledged feelings of survivor's 
guilt, and was able to draw a parallel between current 
events and those of several years prior (see Addendum 
A: Officer's Report from Prior Incident) 


TREATMENT RECOMMENDATIONS: Subject is mostly 
stable, but remains below baseline for field operations. 
Contact was made with the subject's second-in- 
command, and arrangements have been made for an 
extended leave of absence no shorter than one week, 
and no longer than thirty (30) days. Subject will join 
Acknowledged Paramour in psychological rehabilitation. 
It is this officer's belief that Subject's presence will be 
mutually beneficial both to her personal treatment and 
that of her Acknowledged Paramour." 


Signed on this date by the officer in charge, Dr. Angela 


Schowalter, Human Resources Department, PTOLEMY 
Division. 


Sunshine 


Kitten opened her eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling of her 
quarters, counting the dots on the acoustical tile. When she got to 


thirty-two, she sat up on the edge of her bed and stretched her arms 
out over her head. 


The first thing that she saw sitting on her desk was her laptop 
computer. She tapped the space bar, and the screen lit up to reveal 
the words "WATCH ME FIRST" written in giant 100-point font in the 
center of a black screen. 


Oh. It happened again. 


She checked the date on the computer's calendar, checked it 
against the date she remembered the last time she went to sleep. 


Two weeks off. 


She reached out and tapped the screen. There was a brief pause, 
and then the video began playing. 


On the screen, she could see herself sitting at her desk. There was 
a glass of water and two blue pills in front of her, and a slip of paper 
in her hand. 


The Kitten on the computer screen cleared her throat, looked down 
at the slip of paper, and began to read. 


"I, Agent Tabitha St. Matthews, Serial Number 43857764 slash 735, 
hereby elect to undergo memory redaction therapy. | have been 
completely briefed on the risks and dangers this therapy may entail. 
| hereby state that | am undergoing this therapy of my own free will 
and that | have not been unduly coerced into doing so by any other 


party." 


She saw herself take both pills, down it with the glass of water, and 
reach out to turn off the video recorder. 


Kitten sighed. What does that make it, twenty times, now? This can't 
be good for my brain. 


She closed the video file and opened up the folder marked "Mission 
Report,” to find out what she'd decided she no longer wanted to 
remember first-hand. 


Visiting Hours 


"Hey, girl," Skunkboy said, grinning broadly, as he walked into the 
room. "You're looking prettier." 


Spider rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at the tall, handsome 
young man. He laughed and caught it in mid-air, before tucking it 
under his arm. "Seriously. The doctors did good work." 


"Too good. My cheekbones were never this defined. And my face 
was fatter before," Spider sighed. 


"Hey, as long as you're getting your car put back together, why not 
spruce it up a bit? Do a little body and trim work?" He tucked the 
pillow back under his friend's head and hugged her gently around 
the shoulders. "So, how long until the doctors let you out?" 


"They say | can go home tomorrow, actually. Then | need to go see 
the orthdontist. Get my implants put in." She pulled down her lower 
lip, revealing a gumline missing three teeth. 


"Ouch. That's... kinda nasty.” 


"It was nastier before they pulled out what was left," Spider 
admitted. "| was eating through a tube for a solid week." 


Skunkboy kicked himself internally as an awkward silence fell over 
the room. Oh yeah, remind her of the guy who punched her so hard 
her jaw and cheekbones shattered. Real smooth work, asshole. 


"... how is he?" Spider asked. 


"Bullfrog? That's a hell of a thing to be asking," Skunkboy growled. 
"He should be asking you that." 


"He hasn't come by. Besides, it wasn't his fault. He wasn't in control 
of himself." 


"That sounds a lot like what an abusive boyfriend might say—" 


"Abusive boyfriends weren't literally mind-controlled by a fucking 


psychopath," Spider interrupted coldly. "And if you ever say anything 
about Bullfrog like that again, we are through." 


"Sorry," Skunkboy said. He sat down next to her on the bed and 
smoothed out the sheets. "Just got this... thing... about guys hitting 
girls." 


"That's because you're a gentleman," Spider said. 


"... not much of a gentleman," Skunkboy smirked. "I mean, | did just 
look down your hospital gown right now. Cute mole, by the way." 


Another awkward silence descended upon the room. "Hey, 
Skunkboy?" 


"Yeah?" 

"There's a thing you should know..." 
"You're trans?" 

"You knew?" 


"Technically, only the team leader's supposed to know about your 
sealed file. But after Bullfrog read it, he brought me and Kitten in and 
we went over that part of it together. He wanted to make sure you'd 
get no trouble off of us." 


"Oh." Spider said. She hugged her blanket closer to her chest. 
"What did you decide?" 


Skunkboy shrugged. "Fuck it. You're you. You do the job, we don't 
care." 


"Ah." Spider laughed out loud and lay back on the bed, staring up at 
the ceiling. "You want to know something messed up? When 
Bullfrog came after me, | thought | was dead. | seriously thought | 
was going to die. And the last thought that went through my mind 
was... ‘Shit. I'm gonna die a virgin.” 


"No shit?" 


"| completed identity reassignment just before being assigned to 
Sparkplug," Spider explained. "And I've been too busy for 
relationships since then." 


"Well, we're gonna be off-duty for at least a month now, getting our 
heads and bodies fixed," Skunkboy pointed out. "Plenty of time for 
you to get laid." 


"... was that a proposition?" 
"What? Oh, hell no!" 
"Gee, thanks." Spider rolled her eyes. 


"What? Oh, shit, sorry. | didn't mean it that way. | mean... you don't 
fuck your teammates. Just a rule. Bad things happen if you do that, 
and the Coalition cracks down hard on people who do. But there's 
no real rule against inter-squad or inter-department relationships. So 
long as you openly disclose them." 


"That seems a bit... backward." 


"It's just the way the Coalition does things." Skunkboy smoothed out 
another wrinkle on the blanket. "We're human. Humans will want to 
fuck. Stifling that leads to bigger problems than letting people do it 
openly. But teammates fucking teammates... that causes even 
bigger problems. So fuck whoever you like. Just let PTOLEMY know 
and don't fuck your teammmates." 


"... guess that makes sense. In a weird way." 


"It's the Coalition way." Skunkboy grinned. "So, little sis. Looking for 
the hookup? I'm sure | can find a nice, healthy, young man to rock 
your world all night long..." 


He didn't dodge it this time when Spider smacked him in the face 
with her pillow. 


There weren't many people in this part of the operating base at this 
time of day. Skunkboy took a deep breath, straightened the collar of 
his dress greens, and stood up straight as he heard footsteps 


coming around the corner. 


He nodded as his team leader walked down the hall towards him. 
"Bull." 


"Skunkboy." The big man's eyes were as hard as granite, his jaw set 
firmly. "Are the girls here?" 


"Yeah, they're waiting inside. | wanted to talk to you in private, 
though, first." 


"Oh." Bullfrog's eyes narrowed. 


Skunkboy took a deep, nervous breath and forged on. "I'm sorry | 
took a swing at you." 


"Skunkboy..." 


"No, let me finish. It wasn't your fault. That bastard was deep inside 
your head. You'd never hurt any of us if you'd been you. Hell, if you 
hadn't recognized that we were walking into a mindbender's lair, we 
would all have been screwed. You saved all our asses." 


Bullfrog just stared at him impassively, so Skunkboy took a deep 
breath and went on. "Look. I've followed you into hell. And I'll keep 
following you into hell as long as you lead me there. Cause | know 
you'll get us out... as long as you keep breathing and standing, | 
know you're not going to give up on us. | was scared as shit. There 
was still no reason for me to take your head off. So, yeah. Sorry." 


Bullfrog just nodded silently at that. Skunkboy sighed. "I'll just... 
head on inside, then." 


"Give me a minute," Bullfrog said. "There's something | need to do 
first." 


Skunkboy nodded and turned to walk into the conference room. The 
door closed behind him with a soft metallic click. 


Bullfrog stood in the hallway for a moment, before walking over to 
the bulletin board. He made a minute adjustment to his collar in his 
reflection, and smoothed out an errant strand of hair. 


Then he turned and followed his teammate into the room.