Normally, she never went here at all. It was so far out of the way of 
her regular shopping trips that any visit would be inconvenient at 
best. But, when it came to finding clothes for non-human forms, this 
was the best place she knew of. Speaker had been no help, just like 
they had been no help when finding places to shop for human 
clothes despite the wardrobe they had amassed already. Speaker 
had plenty of human clothes for all sorts of sizes and shapes, but 
they only had human clothes. 


Laurie paused mid-step. "Speaker?" 

Yes? They signed back at her. 

"Shouldn't you be wearing clothes in that form?" 
There was a long pause. Probably? 


"For fuck's sake, Speaker!" Ignoring the possibility of insulting them, 


she grabbed them by a hand (or foot, or paw, or pedipalp, or 
whatever the thing she was holding was called) and dragged them 
to the nearest place that looked like it had clothes. "You have to 
think about these things!" 


No, because you think about them for me. Clearly. Laurie wasn't 
proficient at reading human expressions, much less weird arachnid 
expressions, but she knew that stupid, smug grin no matter what it 
looked like. 


"Next time I'll shove you into a pond and let the fish deal with you 
instead, you ass." 


No! Don't do that to me! 


She laughed. "Neither carp nor dragons have mercy, so why should 
|?" Even after reaching the stall she didn't dare to release Speaker, 
despite the fact that their setae were stabbing her hand and arm. 
"Yeah, uh, this person here decided to forget to tell me that they 
needed clothes, | don't suppose you have anything | can get them?" 


The beetle-kin seller goggled for a moment, looking between her 
and Speaker in shock. Laurie couldn't tell what sort of beetle-kin the 
seller actually was, but she had a pretty good idea of what they were 
thinking. Her shoulders twitched and she drew her lips back in an 
attempt at an apologetic smile. Normally she spent her time dealing 
with fish, not people, and she had a definite opinion on which one of 
the two was easier and more fun to socialize with. 


| just kind of forgot, you know? It could happen to- 


Laurie tightly grabbed both of Speaker's hands, refusing to wince 
even when the setae stabbed her again. "Nothing from you until 
you're decent, especially not commentary on the situation." 


Once again, there was no way for her to read or comprehend 
Speaker's expression, and yet somehow she knew they were 
making that idiotic grin again. She turned to the beetlekin seller and 
ducked her head, fully aware that as soon as she let her grip 
slacken for a moment Speaker would free their hands. Not for the 
first nor the last time in her life, she wished that there was some way 


to keep a koi with her at all times. 


"Clothes. Please. Before they keep running their, uh, hands? 
Mouth? Mouth-hands?" Laurie made a disgusted noise, sighed, and 
shook her head. "Okay, let me try to make sense this time. Please 
just get them clothes. Quickly, please." 


She watched the beetle-kin scuttle off hurriedly, looking back at her 
and studiously not looking at Speaker. Speaker, somehow, looked 
relaxed. Once again, she recognized that stupid grin. She turned the 
full intensity of her glare upon them. Speaker began to squirm, 
turning their head away as if they were looking at one of the other 
stalls. It was much easier to see that they were feigning 
obliviousness when they didn't have the proper body parts for their 
body language. That was good. They could be a damnable mixture 
of whimsical and aloof that glares often couldn't reach. 


"If you get me banned from here- a bazaar | only went to for your 
sorry hide, by the way -you could at least do me the favor of hosing 
down the filter media in the koi pond. For the next month. At least. 
Every day." She released their hands. 


Fine. Speaker stretched, purposefully avoiding her gaze, even with 
their lack of eyes. But if that finger-nibbler attacks me, | have every 
right to start screaming. 


"She's a koi! Koi don't have teeth!" Laurie rolled her eyes. "Well, 
they do, but they can't hurt you with them." That was muttered 
under her breath. 


The beetle-kin was returning, holding a pile of clothes with all of their 
arms. Speaker turned their head, considering the clothes somehow. 
Laurie decided to save the rest of her lecture for a time that 
everyone else would better appreciate. She couldn't tell what 
Speaker was doing with their body now, but it probably wasn't worth 
her time to ask. 


Speaker tried on the clothes the seller had brought them, lost in 
thought. Laurie had promised that these were purple enough for 
their standards, and they trusted her enough to assume that she 


was being truthful. That was part of the problem, really. They trusted 
her with that sort of information. They roughly brushed a sleeve out 
of the way, hands grasping the tie that their setae told them was 
there. 


She'd just been the oddest of all the humans in the Library at the 
time, hadn't she? Still a potential meal, nothing more. Just the 
curiosity of hearing talk of fish magic had spurred them on to follow 
her. Otherwise she was supposed to be nothing. Back home, that 
would have been the proper way of things. They would have fed on 
her essence and cared nothing about it. Mindlessly they went 
through the process of trying and buying clothes, saying little and 
offering few opinions. Laurie threw a few barbs their way about 
sulking. Beyond the expected rebuttal they ignored the jabs. 


They weren't really supposed to be here, in this universe. Not that it 
mattered. They'd have died if they'd stayed, and flinging themselves 
headlong into another universe had seemed like a much better idea 
at the time. But this universe didn't much care for them. They could 
feel it in the way reality rippled around them. These uncomfortable 
forms they took kept that rippling from growing to powerful. Limiting 
what they did with their abilities was a further way of ensuring that 
things didn't get too out of hand. If they were unlucky, the spasms 
that their full being would inflict on this reality wouldn't kill them at all. 
But at the least it would shatter some very important natural laws 
within a large area. That should have just bothered them because it 
would mean that they would be dead or worse. But they were 
beginning to worry about the collateral damage as well. That was 
troubling. 


Having to think about other people was just so frustrating. Soeaker 
spent the trip back in silence, not even contemplating the Way as 
they usually did. This wasn't the way of things! They were no 
predator, sure, but hunger was hunger and that human next to them 
would suffice as well as any other. Not as well as the great void- 
creatures that they had once lived among, of course. But those 
which had survived had not cared for a little parasite in their midsts. 
That was why they were here. 


But they were a little more clever than most parasites. They had 
evaded the deaths which countless others had fallen to. They had 


DUDE IS LIKELY TO RESULT IN 
UNPREDICTABLE BEHAVIOR. DR. 
WONDERTAINMENT IS NOT LIABLE FOR 
ANY DAMAGE, DESTRUCTION OR LOSS 
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OR OTHERS WHICH MAY RESULT FROM 
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REMAINING IN ROBO-DUDE'S PRESENCE 
WITHIN FIVE SECONDS FOLLOWING THE 
COMPLETION OF THIS ANNOUNCEMENT, 
YOU ACCEPT THE TERMS AND 
CONDITIONS DESCRIBED IN THIS 
ANNOUNCEMENT, AS AMENDED AND 
SUPPLEMENTED BY DR. 
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ACCEPTANCE, AND AGREE TO HOLD 
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Dr. : Hello, SCP-846. How are you? 


SCP-846: ROBO-DUDE IS FUNCTIONING AT 
FULL CAPACITY, ROBO-PAL. 


evaded the imprisonment which had locked away even the Two 
Serpents. They had even been one of a few to creep amongst the 
stars while the Fallen One had raged and writhed in the cold of the 
void. Being unobtrusive had served them well. 


Speaker had made their decision by the time they left the Way. The 
creatures they would destroy in their return had thought them 
nothing more than a nuisance. That was not a mistake Speaker 
would make in turn. Perhaps even a little fish-mage could teach 
them something of use. Cleaning the ponds of such dangerous 
creatures was an insult at best. But it would simply have to be 
tolerated. 


They would grow, and they would persevere. There was no other 
option. And if the fish-mage wasn't useful, well... 


Fifteen To Sixteen 


“Id think it would be warmer.” 
“Huh?” 


“The end of the world. | mean, think about it. When somebody says 
post-apocalyptic wasteland, you picture a desert, right?” 


“Mm. | guess so.” 
“Instead of the snowglobe we’ve got goin’ here.” 


Joe didn't reply to the last one, and Emma glanced at him. Joe’s 
attention was focused elsewhere, eyes squinting against the bitterly 
cold wind that was whipping small, delicate flakes to and fro. It was 
a delicate snow that formed a haze in the distance, the light of 
sundown turning everything a rich shade of blue. The street was not 
terribly different from how it had been five years ago, when it all 
happened, but there were...differences. Awnings had torn away 
from shop fronts and flapped in the wind. Windows were broken in, 
the stores raided. 


And Joe crouched on top of the semi-trailer he called home, eyes 
narrowed. He actually had lived fairly close to here, although he 
didn’t think about it anymore. After all, five years ago...thing were 
very different for him. He had a job and a girlfriend, and two dogs. A 
nice apartment walking distance from the office. Of course, that was 
before it happened. 


lt was hard to piece together what had all happened, things had truly 
happened so quickly. In a matter of hours, chaos broke out that took 
months to calm. Bombs had gone off somewhere, a dozen countries 
declared war, and then they were silenced when the...things 
emerged. Joe had only seen the monsters a few times, and he 
counted his blessings for that. It was best to hide when they were 
around, no matter what they were. 


Joe liked to think that he had been a pretty nice guy, before all hell 
rose up, but it didn’t matter now. He fidgeted slightly, having sworn 
that he saw movement far down the street through the haze of 
snow, but when it didn’t return...he was forced to relent, turning and 
climbing down the narrow ladder on the side of the semi-trailer. They 
had initially taken up residence in an abandoned home, then an 
abandoned shop, but in the end...the massive, heavy metal box 
turned out to be the safest of them all. 


Emma waited for him at the bottom. “Anything?” She asked. 
“No. We should get inside before nightfall.” 


They hurried into the semi-trailer through the small door on the side, 
pushing their way through several layers of hanging blankets as they 
shut and locked the opening, before emerging into the warm interior. 
Joe nodded to David, who doused the fire and shut the chimney 
slides, sealing the warmth in. The trailer was all but airtight, and 
they’d wake up chilly, but it was preferable to waking up with 
something with too many limbs and too many mouths crawling in, 
attracted by the scent of a fire. Or to never waking up again, carbon 
monoxide filling the box. 


Joe lay back on one of the mattresses, sandwiched between Emma- 
who nestled against him, and Adam, who faced away and curled up 
alone. There was little room, and there were fifteen people to share 
it between them. Joe wrapped his arms around Emma, and glanced 
up. Emmet was on watch duty tonight, he knew, looking at the 
young man to make sure he was awake and alert before looking 
down. 


Emma's face was barely illuminated by the faintest light, Emmet’s 
dim watch lantern cast it over the trailer, and she was asleep the 
moment she closed her eyes. Probably for the better, Joe thought, 
as the young woman had been out foraging all day, and this life of 
survival left for little time to stop and think, and only time to eat, 
sleep, and hope to eat. 


They had decent food stores, sure, but this winter had come in hard 
and faster than any before. The summers were hotter, he noted, and 
the winters colder these past five years, or perhaps it was some 


illusion caused by the lack of central heating or air conditioning. He 
didn’t know, pulling Emma close to his chest. 


Four years ago, when their little group had formed in a town filled 
with dead, dying, and things unspeakable, she had been a portly 
teenager, often short of breath and easily tired, but the years had 
carved her into a fine young woman, although her hips were still 
wide and she never lost all the girth of her upper arms, or thighs. 
She reminded Joe of his girlfriend, who had been lost when she left 
town to try and find her parents. 


Joe suddenly thought about his girlfriend, briefly, and then held 
Emma tighter. On second thought, maybe their food stores were 
better off than he had the impression of, musing that she was a little 
thicker around the waist than she had been at the end of fall. 


Then, he was abruptly and deeply asleep. He hadn’t dreamt once in 
the past five years, curiously enough, none of them had. He thought 
nothing of it. 


Then he was awake, silently, eyes wide and glancing about. Emmet 
was standing, holding the small pistol he carried warily, looking up at 
the roof of the trailer. Something scratched along. Joe glanced 
around, everybody else was awake as well, the faint sound of 
scrabbling hands and claws having aroused everybody’s attention. 


They stayed awake, until it passed, whatever had been there, 
tapping at the metal, losing interest, before falling back to sleep until 
morning. They didn’t dare leave the trailer until the sun was up, 
stepping out under a clear blue sky and a world freshly covered with 
pure, pristine, untouched snow. 


Well, perhaps almost untouched. 


When they collected snow to heat for washwater that morning, Joe 
and Tina, the oldest woman in the group, a stern woman pushing 
forty-five, silently looked at footprints that led from the distance up 
on top of the trailer, where they circled about, then left, heading 
deeper into town. Joe pointed out the elongated toes and paw-pad 
like impressions. Tina pointed out the long marks in the snow where 
it had scratched at the metal. 


“What do you think it was?” Emma asked, that afternoon. She had 
spent a lot of time, lately, Joe thought, rummaging through old drug 
stores and corner shops. 


“| don’t know. Footprints reminded me of my dogs, but with toes like 
a monkey.” Joe muttered, going about the messy work of cleaning a 
deer, a small doe, that they had managed to get. Of course, they 

only cleaned their fresh kills far away from the trailer that was home. 


“Do you think it'll come back?” 


He shrugged, and glanced up at her. She had something hidden in 
her pockets. 


“...Dan’s been talking about leaving.” 
“To where?” 


“| don’t know. He said that he just feels stir-crazy, and thinks he can 
walk to the next town, see if anybody’s there.” 


“Why?”