Information on the remaining, lost pieces of SCP-884 is fairly 
sketchy in many places. Due to the Civil War in the Foundation that 
resulted in the formation of the Chaos Insurgency, many of the 
original documents and pieces were lost. However, some data has 
been recovered, collected, and observed in the intervening time 
about the additional units which were originally included in the 
collected SCP. 


This information is open for the free review of any people assigned 
to SCP-884's containment; however, this information should not be 
shared with people who are not members of the containment team. 


— Agent L 


SCP-884-1: The Bag 


SCP-884-1 was the leather bag which contained the pieces at 
recovery. Photographs of the bag show that it seems to be equipped 
with a zipper, the style of which places its construction at 1910-1912 
at the earliest. 


It was initially regarded as lacking any anomalous qualities of its 
own. However, after approximately ten years of analysis on the 
objects consisting of SCP-884 (the actual time frame has been lost 
entirely), it was noted to have retained its original suppleness and 
softness. The original hypothesis that the objects consisting of 
SCP-884 were immune to the passage of time was amended when 
it was discovered that objects placed in SCP-884-1 seemed to be 
placed in a form of stasis. Tests with fruits and vegetables verified 
this. 


SCP-884-1 was lost during the Foundation Civil War when several 
of the SCP-884 objects were stolen. Testing was in progress at the 
time of the loss, but data has not been recovered. 


humanoid types. Slow them down until we can convince them 
properly." 


He frowned. "I'm not sure we can. We signed on for this for life," he 
said. 


Eleven shook her head at him. "Then we need to leave. To get 
away." 


"How?" he asked. 


"| need your help," Eleven admitted. 


Seven raised an eyebrow, then leaned forward, smiling with easy 
interest and furrowing his brow with curiosity. "What do you mean?" 
he asked. 


Seven was a coward, deep down. Resentful, on some level, that 
some of the others regarded him as a pseudoscientist instead of a 
legitimate master of his field. But then, he'd been integral in creating 
his field. 


"| Know we haven't always been friends, but philosophically, you 
agreed with me on this a few weeks ago, when the reports first 
came in." 


"On what?" She knew that Seven already knew, but he wanted her 
to say it. Fine. 


"Humanoid classification. This little girl Keter," she said. 


Seven sat back again, nodding quietly. "| agree philosophically, 
yes," he said. 


He wasn't going to admit more than that, Eleven realized. He was 
smart. Just cold. It wasn't that he disagreed on the concept of 
human beings as objects. It was the concept of human beings as 
human beings. 


"You know why I'm here. You know what we're going to have to do 
to actually manage this. What they're going to force us to do. Allow 


me, then, to offer you this," Eleven said. "You can study them, if this 
works. You can take a look at all of them you want. Every one. 
Analyze them, figure out how they tick, what's going on in their 
heads. No experiments on them. But I'll give you all the access you 
want." 


"| could get that here," Seven said simply. 


"No, you can't. One is too smart, and with Two and Six on his side, 
you know you'll never get the access you really want. Don't you 
remember Five laughing in your face when you explained your 
theories of mental development to him? They mock you behind your 
back, and you know it. This is your chance. Your only chance. You'll 
never get to really see what this kind of power does to people. How 
it changes them." 


She was playing on his desires and his insecurities. The lack of 
respect he got from the 'true' scientists. The worry about the 
legitimacy of his 'psychology' that he felt regularly. "This would be 
access that none of them would let you have, Wilhelm," she offered. 


He looked up at her, then back down at his desk, fingers playing 
over the wood for a moment. He was thinking. Weighing the risks. 
"Agreed, then," he said. "What do you need from me?" 


Eleven leaned back from his desk. He was, at least, interested now. 
"Four," she said. "We need his resources. And preferably Eight, if 
she can be convinced." 


"Four will listen to me. But Eight and | have never seen eye to eye," 
Seven said. 


"Then just implicate her. If she gets killed and they lose someone, 
that's just as good as someone coming with us. We'll have things in 
place soon enough." 


Eleven watched as Seven's eyebrows rose smoothly. He hadn't 
expected Eleven to be this ruthless, apparently. Underestimated her 
because she was a woman, no doubt. After a moment, he nodded. 
"| can have Four get his men in place. Just tell me the places." 


Eleven raised her eyebrow as Seven smiled. "You know already?" 
she asked. 


Seven nodded, laughing. "Well, your husband has to be involved, 
doesn't he?" he said. "You'd never have come to me if you didn't 
already have him." 


Eleven nodded slightly. "He'll do as | ask," she said. "I'll let you know 
the exact locations as soon as | can." 


"Of course," Seven said. He was smiling more, now. More openly. 
With too many teeth. 


Eleven left, feeling... dirty. As if she'd just had cold, dead fish 
rubbed over her body. She went back to her office, sitting down and 
making some brief notes. The strike had to be perfectly surgical to 
work. 


"What's left to do, then?" Twelve asked. 


"Seven agreed with it, and he's willing to go along, if only to see 
what happens. He probably thinks he can run back to One if things 
turn against him. We need funding and men, so we'll have to have 
Four at least. Seven can deliver him." 


"If we could get Two..." Twelve mused. 


Eleven shook her head. "She'll never go along with it. She trusts 
One too implicitly to let us get away with it.” 


"Six will never agree. Neither will Three," said Twelve. 
"Thirteen?" she mused. 


"| wouldn't trust him to do anything other than break a tie vote," 
Twelve said. "Did you talk to Adam? He's next in line, and with his 
family problems..." 


"Adam... reacted poorly to my suggestion." 


Twelve sighed quietly. "A shame. He could have really been a 


motivating factor. Ten and Nine will be out of range when things fall 
into place, and there's a good chance that we can isolate Three as 
well. It would keep people from moving against us quickly. How 
about Eight? Bella was on your side the last time we were all 
together." 


Eleven fidgeted nervously with her wedding ring for a moment. "I've 
taken care of it. She won't interfere." 


Twelve nodded. "Well... When do we move?" he asked. 


Eleven sighed. "Soon. Very soon," she said. "They've found a little 
boy who can fly." 


As his day finally drew to a close, Twelve picked up his phone. He 
made three phone calls, then sat it back down again. When he did, 
he stood up and moved to his file cabinet, opening it and pulling out 
a few folders. He stuffed them into a brown, leather case, then 
looked around his office one last time before he headed to the door. 


Late that night, he was on a train headed for Los Angeles. 


Two hours after Twelve boarded his train, Seven dropped two letters 
in his outbox. The first was addressed to One—explaining that he 
was taking a few days to head to his lab in Dusseldorf. The second 
was addressed to Eight—letting her know that everything had gone 
off without a hitch and that she could join the rest of the conspiracy 
in a few days. 


He opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out a pair of white 
gloves, pulling them onto his hands and fixing the cuffs of his jacket 
before he left. 


There would be a dead man found on an ocean liner who looked 
exactly like him the following morning. The man would have been 
stabbed in the back, but all of the doors and windows would be 
locked from the inside. Seven always was a fan of a good mystery. 


At the same time as a screaming, panicked steward was finding the 
body of an older gentleman in a forward compartment, Four had 
moved all his men into position. They struck the trains, automobiles, 
and ships in nearly perfect synchronicity. Four led one of the teams 
himself. He left no survivors. 


Eleven walked to Twelve's office and opened the door, looking 
inside at the desk and imagining him stepping around it to kiss her. 
She smiled slightly, then stepped back, closing it and sighing deeply. 
She could almost smell his aftershave. 


She turned and walked down the hall, nodding to a few people along 
the way, and then stepped out of the building onto the street. In no 
time, she was lost in the crowd. 


As she walked, she looked at them. At their faces. In a city, no one 
actually looked at you. You were surrounded and alone at the same 
time. She wondered just how many of them would be in a cage if 
One and Six and Two and the rest had their way. How many of 
these nameless, faceless millions they were supposed to be 
protecting would be sealed away and forgotten. 


When she boarded her train, she was unable to sleep. 


On July 19, 1914, fourteen Foundation transports were 
attacked simultaneously. During these attacks, a number 
of objects were stolen, including two newly identified 
Humanoid Classification artifacts. A disturbingly large 
number of the objects seized were those with apparent 
practical uses, including the Staff of Hermes and the 
Midas Glove. 


Given that a large number these objects were not 
scheduled for transport, it is currently assumed that 
someone in the logistics branch must have organized the 
action personally. 


Current information suggests that this action was 
organized from the highest levels of Foundation 


administration. Implications currently point toward O5-12. 


Further information will be made available as it comes 
forth, but we have to assume the worst. This is currently 
being classified as a Code Epoch situation. Trust no one. 


O5-1 


Eleven smiled at Twelve as the two of them moved towards each 
other and embraced quickly. A few minutes later, Seven and Four 
walked across the dusty, wooden train station floor, nodding to 
Eleven. 


"Things have been relocated," Seven said. "Twelve had information 
on some storage facilities that were available." 


"| destroyed the files on them before | left," he said. "We can 
continue using the bulk of my infrastructure, and the Foundation will 
have no record of it." 


Eleven looked up at the other three, taking a deep breath. "Do we 
have any word on what's happening on the inside?" she asked. 


Four nodded. "They're scrambling. We either stole or destroyed a lot 
of documents on our way out the door, so it's pure chaos." 


Eleven took a deep, slow breath. "Good," she said. "What about the 
two children?" 


Seven smiled at Four, who looked over his shoulder at a man ina 
pinstripe suit and nodded at him. The man nodded, then turned 
around, motioning. A few seconds later, a young boy, maybe nine or 
ten years old, stepped out, nervously walking toward the group. 
Eleven lowered herself to one knee, smiling at him. 


"What's your name?" she asked. 
"Ben," he said softly. 


"Ben, I've heard you can do something amazing. Is that true?" she 
asked. 


He nodded, looking down and twisting his foot shyly. 


Eleven smiled. "Ben, there are some people who are very scary, 
and they want to take you away and lock you in a cage. But we're 
not going to let them do that, alright? We're going to keep you safe, 
and once those men have been dealt with, we're going to get you 
back to your family. But until that happens, we're going to make sure 
that nothing ever happens to you. Alright?" 


Ben looked up at her. He looked scared, but she never stopped 
smiling. After a moment, he nodded. 


Eleven looked at Twelve. "What about E15?" she asked. 


Twelve shook his head silently, and Eleven nodded, still managing 
to smile down at Ben before nodding to Four, who escorted him 
back to the man in the suit. 


Seven stepped closer, his voice dropping slightly. "We have men, 
weapons, tools. We're in a position to take what we need. We could 
gut the Foundation easily, if we move quickly." 


Eleven shook her head. "No. | don't want to take this too far. Once 
they realize what we've done and why we've done it, they'll realize 
that they can't just shout us down anymore. They'll beg for us to 
come back," she said. 


Seven nodded. "They won't be able to argue with our results. These 
people just need to learn to control what they're doing. They never 
even tried with that little girl. They just wanted to build a better cage 
for her," he said, a touch of distaste in his voice. Probably feigned, 
Eleven thought, but effective, nonetheless. 


"Once we're organized, we'll move again," Twelve said. "Three has 
already found a location for his Site-19 plans. A site containing 
nothing but humanoids." 


Eleven nodded, looking at the others as Four walked back to the 
group. "Let's move," she said. "I still have contacts in Germany we 
can use. The Foundation is wounded, but it'll heal fast." 


Two leaned close to the glass, looking out the window at the large 
atrium below, watching the men and women walking back and forth. 
From this high up, they looked less like people and more like dolls. 
Toys. It was a disturbing thought. She glanced over at One standing 
next to her. 


"This is only going to get worse before it gets better," she said. 


One nodded, turning back to his desk and sitting down. "| know," he 
said. "But we knew what she would do when we started this." 


Two sighed, walking over and resting against the corner, then 
looking at One. "You're sure about him? That he can keep it under 
control? | barely know the man." 


One nodded slightly. "He'll do what he can. Warn us when he can. 
It's all we can ask him for, right now." One shuffled a paper, then sat 
back in his chair. "Do you have the promotion papers ready?" he 
asked, quietly changing the subject. 


Two nodded. "Yeah. We can elevate Adam to Twelve's position 
early next week. And | think we can put Watson into Seven's 
position. At the very least, he's more stable and more reliable." 


"Good," One said. "We need people we can count on, now more 
than ever." 


Eleven, who had taken well to being called Command-Three, smiled 
across the table at Twelve, who was referred to by his subordinates 
as Command-Four. He smiled back at her. His fingers brushed hers, 
and hers slipped into his, squeezing his hand for a moment. 


Interference 


<< Back to part three 


Agent Erika Sarin sighed for a moment before raising her 
megaphone once more. "Okay, ladies and gentlemen," she said, her 
voice booming over the school parking lot. "| need you to follow the 
men in labcoats, please, for decontamination and testing. Boys go to 
this tent, girls to that one." Sarin gestured like an airline stewardess 
pointing out those incredibly convenient exits everyone hopes they'll 
never need to use, then walked briskly to Dr. Krell in the basketball 
courts, pushing aside gaggles of confused students and teachers. 


"At approximately 9 AM this morning,” said the dispassionate voice 
of Dr. Alan Krell, "a burst of noise on all radio bands came from this 
location, somewhere inside Eastwood High School. We were able to 
triangulate the source, but the noise is still unidentified. Arriving 
here, you may or may not have noticed that half of the student body 
- about 800 students - disappeared, by which | mean the north half 
of the school went completely empty.” 


"That would usually mean a day off for us," said Agent Dunford.