"Good morning, Agent!" a cheerful woman's voice spoke from 
Meyers' right. Agent Meyers had not been with the Foundation very 
long - only half a year - but he understood the situation he was in 
now. He had been captured. Probably captured, he corrected 
himself. It wasn't impossible this was some manner of test or review 
by the Foundation. They were like that... and that, honestly, was 
one of the things he had enjoyed about the job. 


"Meyers. A-26843," the Agent replied mechanically. 


"Yes," the woman agreed enthusiastically. "Matthew Meyers. 
Matthew Johnathan Meyers, born March 23rd in 1982 to Susan and 
Walter. In Sugarland, Texas, United States of America." Footsteps 
echoed in the otherwise empty space as she approached. "You're 
exactly what we've been hoping for." 


Agent Meyers looked around a little, barely moving his head. The 
light was dim enough that he wasn't entirely certain, but it seemed 


like they were in some small sized warehouse. Thin, probably 
aluminum siding, small amounts of supports and scaffolding. No 
shelving or storage units, so it prob- 


His train of thought was interrupted by a light slap across the face. 
"That's all immaterial, Matthew. Can | call you Matthew?" 


"Meyers. A-26843." 


"Matt, then," the woman said, walking around and coming into full 
view. 


Whoops. Not a woman, just a guy with an irregular voice. Must still 
be woozy. He wasn't even that small. 


"Matt," the man began, crouching down and looking Agent Meyers in 
the eyes, "I have to thank you for what you're about to do for us." 


Meeting the man's gaze, the Agent noticed what had caused him to 
wake up - a glass jar was pressed between his thighs. His slacks 
were still on, so the glass was cold enough to feel almost like ice 
even through the fabric. Perhaps it had come out of a freezer, but it 
was unlikely this place had electricity. Which meant they had to 
have- 


The man flicked Agent Meyers on the nose. "Stop that," he chided. 
"Don't let your mind wander. I'm going to need you to focus on the 
here and now." 


It occurred to Meyers that had been the second time this person had 
figured out what the Agent was thinking. Mind reader? 


"Of a sort, yes," the man replied. "I think your Foundation would say 
| am certainly an anomaly." 


"If you know who | work for, then | have to assume you're either 
prepared for their investigation of my whereabouts, or you're too 
stupid to anticipate it," Meyers observed casually. 


"Trying to see if I'm a threat or not?" the man asked. He stood up 
and gave Meyers a calculating look. "| am quite a threat, Matt." The 
stranger's tone was just as casual as the Agent's. There was no 


boasting or bravado, just simple fact. "But not to you," he said, his 
jovial, high pitched tone returning. "Well, to you specifically yes. But 
not to the Foundation. Your employers and | will be working side by 
side for a little while, even if they don't yet realize it. Their methods 
and reach constantly keep me penned in, but | think I've found a 
way we can... get past all that." 


"| doubt they're going to be very cooperative if they find out you've 
killed me," Meyers grunted. He felt his strength returning slowly and 
flexed a little against the bindings. Absolutely no give to them, must 
be zip ties or something like- 


The man clapped his hands together loudly in front of Matthew's 
face. "Here!" he yelled. "Focus. Here." His hands clasped together 
and he motioned downward. 


Meyers looked down to where the man's hands began to point. 
Down into the glass jar between his legs. Out of the corner of his 
eye, he noticed the stranger had also leaned forward to observe 
something. 


Close enough, finally. 


Agent Meyers stomped his left heel on the ground, releasing a short 
range directed burst of amnesiacs from the toe of his shoe. The 
vapor caught the other man in the face and he stumbled back, 
coughing. Meyers began to wiggle slightly, hoping perhaps the chair 
itself would break apart, giving him the range of motion to escape. 


The stranger's coughs turned into a low chuckle and he made a 
tsking noise. "Foolish of me," he said, shaking his head. "I should 
have known better than to assume you were harmless, even now. 
You're a credit to your organization, you know." He rubbed his 
hands over his face, smearing off some of the residue from the gas. 
"| was surprised that your Foundation has such a wonder at their 
disposal," he continued, looking at the stuff on his hands. "We've 
been trying for years to do something like this, and there it was - 
right in my face." He chuckled. "Literally, even. One of your men 
sprayed me with it and | wasn't certain what was supposed to 
happen until they seemed surprised." 


He walked back towards Meyers and smiled thinly. "But it's a trick, 
you see," he continued, trailing a finger down Meyers' face, starting 
at the top of his forehead. "It toys with the brain. The little grey 
meats get all confused. It doesn't unweave the tapestry, my friend, 
and I'm afraid some of us are just too firmly stitched together... 


"... but not you." 


Something in that final statement made the Agent's blood run a little 
cold. 

"I'm not going to kill you, Matt," the Man said, gently rubbing the 
amnesiacs into Agent Meyers' nostrils and then forcing his other 
fingers into the man's mouth and pressing against his gums. "And 
your Foundation certainly will find you. Or rather, they'll find this 
place. You, on the other hand, are part of the experiment. So, again, 
| have to thank you. But | must also apologize. | need to stretch 
some boundaries, here. Explore some horizons. I'm not sure what 
will happen, though." 


Agent Meyers felt the chemicals begin to take their toll. The man 
had rubbed the residue into his gums and nose. Smart. It'd be 
absorbed quicker that way. Meyers tried to recall his training — they 
put Agents up against the amnesiacs before, trying to tell them how 
to combat possible backfires of the stuff. He tried to focus on small, 
unimportant details. The man's voice.... 


Wait, Meyers thought to himself, it might actually be a woman. In 
a... she was wearing... 

"So, that's where the Foundation comes in. They'll be here soon 
enough, doing what they do so well: containing whatever happens 
here. Not exactly a willing partner, not exactly an ideal scientific 
team-up, but... you use what you have, | suppose.” 


Wait! It was a woman, and not just any woman. His supervisor back 
at the Site. It was a test, after all. Wasn't it? He was trying to recall 
something. His mind said he was in trouble, still, but he couldn't 
remember why. Looking around, he realized he wasn't in a 
warehouse at all, but the administration offices he reported to. How 
did he not notice before? It felt hazy and indistinct, but that was 
probably part of whatever they had drugged him with initially. "| 
knew it," he said, not realizing how slurred his words were. "How'd | 


do?" 


"Very well," the woman at the desk said, folding her hands in front of 
her and smiling pleasantly. "Now, if you would, Agent Meyers, 
please tell me about your first pet. It's part of the review. And do 
make sure to focus on the recorder in your lap." 


Agent Meyers looked down where the glass jar... no, the recording 
device was. "Call me Matt," he said absently before beginning. 


It's All True 


The Factually Correct and 
Profoundly Engrossing Story of 
Rose Labelle, Savior of Site 19, 
Bane of the Anomalous, and 
Emissary of the Library, in 
which She Ventures into Lands 
Unknown to Search for the Lost 
Tome of the Daevite Empire, 
Meets Several Beings Both 
Alien and Divine, Discovers 
(and Slays) the Darkness within 
Her Own Heart, and Enjoys a 
Complimentary Continental 
Breakfast at a Two Star Hotel 


Saving Site-19 


When the Chaos Insurgency invaded Site-19, it wasn't counting on 
RESEARCHER ROSE LABELLE, hacker extraordinaire, basically 
the best person in the entire SCP Foundation. Even though they had 
the help of ALL the GOls, from Prometheus (which came back just 
for the occasion) to that goddamn circus or whatever, and all the 
Black Queens, all the scary GOls plus all the non-scary GOls which 
became scary just for the occasion. You don't even want to know 
how much you'd pee yourself if you saw this version of 
Wondertainment, my god. But Rose Labelle stopped them all. 
Because she is literally the best. 


The absolute best. There is really no competition. Don't listen to her 
telling you otherwise, because that's bullshit. Super bullshit. Why 
aren't people writing more fics about Rose Labelle? Why isn't 
EVERYONE writing Rose Labelle? Why is Troy fucking humming 
that Phantom Menace song? Wait, hang on, that's real life slipping 
in. By 'real life’ | mean, like... A RL-Class end of the world scenario. 
It's... a code word. This is absolutely written in character. Forever. 
Let's, uh... call this a CK-Class event. You guys like that bullshit, 
right? At least it's not a fucking XK-Class event. People really 
overuse XK-class event, right? Well, guess what, the invasion of 
Site-19 was an XK-class event, alright. Scorched earth, religion, all 
of them. It was fucking all the XK-class events. It was every K-Class 
scenario. The SK-Class dominance shift, the AK-class loss of 
consciousness scenario, and whatever other letters there are. All of 
them, even the ones that don't actually have the letter "K" in their 
classification and fuck up everything. It was every worst thing that 
could ever happen, that's what the point is. 


But Rose Labelle hacked them. 
And that's how she saved Site-19. 
The motherfuckers never saw her coming. 


P.S. Also Rose Labelle has dated every iteration of the Black 
Queen, so long as they're the badass ones. 


Bane of the Anomalous 


"Help!" Dr. Bright commanded. "SCP-963 has gone out of control! | 
am becoming a dark eldritch god!" 


"It's okay," Rose Labelle said. "I'm on the case." 


Rose Labelle hacked the shit out of SCP-963 and saved SCP. 


Still Baneing 


"Thank you," Dr. Bright said. "I'm your biggest fan. But what about 
the rest of the SCPs?" 


"| will hack them," Rose Labelle said, and she hacked them. Then 
she made out with her hot girlfriend. All her hot girlfriends. Probably. 


The Foundation crumbled, but in a good way, as all the SCPs 
became either totally controllable or totally non-anomalous, 
whichever was more convenient for the Foundation. Except for the 
people who hate crosslinking, or using SCPs, or Omega-7 and 
Alpha-9 — for those people, all the SCPs just went away, so 
everyone would be happy. 


But some of the SCPs stayed, so that that Rose Labelle's story 
wouldn't be totally anticlimactic, | guess. 


lll: Emissary of the Library 


All the members of the Hand also loved Rose Labelle, because of all 
the prophecies she fullfilled and all the massive queer star power 
she exuded with every step. Except for the Hand members who 
worshiped dark eldritch gods, but they got won over when all the 
gods stopped being evil because they were so impressed by Rose 
Labelle. 


The Library was also super impressed by Rose Labelle because she 
wrote so many super great and valuable books (and fanfics) that the 
Library created a whole other wing for her. And then they elected 
her Emissary of the Library, a position created specially for her. 


One of the Librarians asked Rose Labelle what her secret was. (One 
of the mute Librarians with no mouths, but Rose Labelle was so 
great that Librarians could speak in her presence.) Anyway the 
Librarian wanted to know how Rose could be such a greatest author 
and writer forever. 


Rose Labelle said, "| don't just write. | fuck the words into the page.” 
And like God saying Let there be light, so it was true. 


(Speaking of God, Rose Labelle has totally dated Sophia Light, 
which means she's literally dated Jesus. Because that's canon.) 


Beings Both Alien And Divine 


Rose Labelle slew and/or befriended all the gods. She won 
Eschatology while she was at it. Also she fast forwarded to the 
ending of Resurrection and won that. 


Oh right. | forgot. SPOILERS FOR RESURRECTION IN THIS TALE, 
GUYS. I'll need to scroll up and add that warning later. 


Slaying The Darkness Within 
Her Own Heart 


"Darkblade, my love," Rose Labelle said, looking into Darkblade's 
liquid eyes, "I'm sorry, but despite the vastness of our epic love, we 
cannot be together." 


"Why not?" Darkblade said, looking like the most heartbreaking thing 
you can imagine, while still being attractive and definitely masculine. 


"Because I'm gay," she said. 


Then Darkblade ripped open his trenchcoat, revealing a dress, or 
something else feminine-assigned (while keeping the trenchcoat, 
obviously). "But by the power of your love, | am... actually a girl!" 


And it was true. Darkblade, who was now a she, was just as badass 
as ever, but now an appropriate addition to Rose Labelle's dreadlord 
harem. And they all lived happily ever after. 


Gentle reader, you may ask: But Rose Labelle was supposed to slay 
the darkness inside of her heart? Which was obviously a metaphor 
for her love for Darkblade? Well, how do you think they got together 
in the first place? Rose Labelle defeated Darkblade /ong ago, both in 
combat and by metaphorically slaying him her with sheer force of 
personality, making her unique in the universe and fulfilling 
seventeen distinct prophecies from cultures dating back to millions 
of years before the advent of humanity. Darkblade revealed that he 
she was actually a figure more like John the Baptist, making way for 
the Christ figure of Rose Labelle. And finally, Darkblade made 
sense. 


Complimentary Breakfast 


Over breakfast, because she was already out of supernatural 
threats, having defeated, seduced, and/or won over them all, Rose 
Labelle was crowned Queen of the Foundation. As her inaugural 
act, she used amnestics and Foundation magicks to end 
homophobia and transphobia and sexism and racism and poverty 
and world hunger and murder and all of the ills of the world. Forever. 
Motherfuckers. 


THIS IS WHY ROSE LABELLE IS THE BEST CHARACTER, OKAY. 


"|... what? Is this about me?" — Researcher Rose 
Labelle 

"Why is this implying the Foundation is a work of fiction? 
Who signed off on this?" — Researcher Rose Labelle 

"Is this supposed to be a Mary Sue thing? | didn't do any 
of that. I've never even met Bright." — Researcher Rose 
Labelle 

"That's not how SCPs work! You can't hack SCPs. Why 
is this filed in the official documentation intake?" — 


Photographed Activity: Standing in its containment chamber. 
Photo Result: Photograph is unchanged with the exception that 
SCP-905 appears to be human and fully clothed. 


Subject: SCP-914 

Photographed Activity: Idle between tests. Picture frames 914's 
console and both booths. 

Photo Result: No change. Careful analysis of the picture shows 
914's knob is pointing to a sixth setting after "Very Fine". The label 
for that setting is not readable. 


Subject: SCP-966-1 through 4 

Photographed Activity: 966-1: Moving around 966-2; 966-2: 
Resting on the floor; 966-3: Cleaning its claws with its tongue; 
966-4: Walking around the room. 

Photo Result: 966-1: Mating with 966-2; 966-2: Feeding on a deer 
corpse; 966-3: Stalking an unidentified human; 966-4: Resting ina 
jungle-like environment. 

Note: This seems to prove that, although humanoid, SCP-966 
specimens do not have human-level intelligence, possessing only 
simple desires normally seen on other animals. 


Subject: SCP-978 

Photographed Activity: Pointed at a standard mirror (Men's room 
4B). 

Photo Result: Jr. Researcher sitting in office. The researcher's 
name is visible on the office door. 


Subject: SCP-978 

Photographed Activity: Pointed at a standard mirror (Research 
room 12C), operated by automated device, no sentient creatures 
within line of sight.