"Well, no shit, jackass. What did you spend it all on?" His eyes 
shifted around the office, looking for any obvious nonsense that he 
could have splurged on. It was still the same, relatively spartan 
office. A couple of terminals for research, some random rock 
samples that he claimed were for "Metaphysics Experiments" which 
obviously hadn't been touched since he put them there. 


"Normal stuff. It's not like | went on some crazy Amazon spree." He 
turned to face Kensington again, his eyes weary. "Sometimes, 
people just make bad decisions. Rent, insurance, whatever...I'm still 
on level 2 Researcher pay grade, I'm not exactly raking it in. And 
there's other expenses | never expected. | don't make the best 
financial decisions sometimes." 


Kensington's mouth quirked up at the corner, "I thought your seventy 
or whatever years of life would have prepared you for this." 


Magnus' eyes rolled, and he waved a hand dismissively, "Oh please, 
we both know that story was nonsense. I'm turning 29 this year, and 
you know it. Not that you'll remember the day." 


Kensington grinned, turning to face the desk, "I only remember 
important days. So what are you gonna do, do you have any money 
at all?" 


Magnus grimaced, "Nothing worth mentioning. We get paid the day 
after." 


"So you're going to be the literal worst boyfriend ever on Valentine's 
Day?" 


Magnus stood, shaking his head. "Apparently. At least I'm paid up 
for lunch on my cafeteria card till Wednesday. Maybe they'll have 
something decent to eat. Maybe we can think of something together. 


Or they've got some dried macaroni | can glue to a piece of 
construction paper." 


Kensington stood with him, his eyes locked with Magnus’, "Magnus. 
Michael. Forget gifts. They're just things. What proves you care is 
what you do. So do something for her, not for the holiday." 


Magnus stood transfixed. Kensington rarely used his given name, 
and never in a context like this, "What's that supposed to mean?" 


Kensington snapped his fingers, "Remember that letter you wrote 
Dr. Rights?" 


Magnus' eyes went a bit distant, the maelstrom of pain and 
destruction surrounding the days just after his apparent death 
flashing before his eyes. His voice croaked out, strained, "Yes." 


Kensington pointed at him, shaking a finger. "Rights slapped an O5 
for that letter, and spent the next year getting us all the memetic 
counter agent. So write something. You're decent at that. Or at least 
decent at pissing off women with it. That or your existence pisses 
them off, which is more likely." He started to slip out the door as 
Magnus processed what he said. 


"|...she what? | didn't realize—" His eyes went distant once more, 
remembering the days before everything happened. He hadn't seen 
Rights in a long time. He began to reminisce, before Kensington's 
last statement finally passed through his brain,"Hey, wait, you 
fucker, |do NOT PISS WOMEN OFF BY EXISTING," He charged 
after Kensington, stomping in to the hallway after a quickly fleeing 
Kensington, "GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT." 


« Happy Birthday From Nobody | HUB | Legends Never Die » 


Legends Never Die 


Site-19 Ancillary Research Wing 


Agent Donnarson hadn't really expected to have to do a debriefing 
of this particular sort. As an information retrieval specialist, his job 
was to figure out the difference between report briefs, and the truth. 
However, "Dr." Magnus' file was several hundred pages long, and 
had started to become a little excessive, not to mention the content. 
A level 4 had made a request to figure out what the hell was going 
on, and the task fell to Rex. 


As he walked through the halls of the Ancillary Research Wing at 
Site 19, he flipped through the case file, each entry more stupid than 
the last. This was going to take forever, and he could already 
imagine the headache this would cause. 


The door to Magnus' office was open, and two men were sitting at 
chairs across from each other, making idle chatter. He hadn't met 
either of them before, and knocked softly on the wood of the office 
door. "Hello? I'm looking for Viktor Magnus?" 


The shorter man stood up, and gestured to the blond man sitting on 
the drawer side of the desk. "Well, you found him. Here to finally 
terminate the idiot?" 


Rex hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard by the joke. "I- What? 
No. Debrief." 


The man grinned, and took a couple of steps, reaching across the 
distance. "I'm kidding. Sorry, I'm Researcher Kensington. Level 3. 
May | observe the interview?" 


Rex shook the man's hand, and looked down at the directive sheet. 
"Anyone level 3 or higher could observe, technically, but this isn't 


being recorded. It's just a debrief I'm supposed to report on." 


The other man, in the chair raised an eyebrow, and smiled. "| don't 
mind if he observes. I'm Dr. Michael Viktor Magnus." 


Rex frowned for a second, then looked down at the personnel file. "It 
says here it's Researcher Magnus, as you don't have a—" 


Magnus threw his hands up. "My degree is real dammit! Just 
because the subject isn't, doesn't mean anything! Doctor. Magnus." 


Rex could already feel his pulse in his neck now, a surefire sign a 
headache was coming. When it rains, it pours. "Alright. May | sit 
down?" 


Kensington moved out-of-the-way, and grabbed a third chair from 
the corner, pulling it up to the desk on the short side, leaning back. 
"Just pretend I'm not here. I'd love to hear this." 


Rex sat down. "Right. My name is Agent Rex Donnarson, and |'m—" 
An upraised hand interrupted his speech, and Magnus leaned 
forward, his face incredulous. 


"Rex. Rex Donnarson. Seriously? That's your actual name?" The 
look on his face was one he was intimately familiar with. 


"Yes. That's my actual legal name. No | did not change it." Rex tried 
to smile, but ended up grinding his teeth instead. 


Magnus leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "Right, sorry. | just 
couldn't not say something. I'm sure your parents thought it was a 
lovely name." 


Rex counted back from five in his head, then opened the case file in 
front of him. "Right. Let's get started. I'm here to clear up some... 
unusual reports that have come through as after-action reports. 
From what this says, you've taken part in an unusually high number 
of combat missions for a non-combatant, and several circumstances 
of your... reports, have been suspect. I've been ordered to find out 
what actually happened." 


Magnus leaned back, shifting downwards in his chair. "Alrighty then. 


Shoot." 


Rex flipped open the first envelope, breaking the wax seal. "Right. 
Okay, 20 April 2017. There was a mission flying over Kansas, 
delivering SCP-3000. The plane reported distress, and we lost 
communication with it. You arrived at Site-27 sixteen hours later." 


Magnus nodded. "Yes, that's right." 


Rex pinched the bridge of his nose. "Could you recount how you 
survived this plane crash, as you did in your report?" 


Magnus looked at the ceiling, and then nodded speaking with his 
eyes on the paper tile to the right of the overhead light. "Right. Plane 
was going down, but luckily for me, there was an alligator in the 
back." 


"An alligator. In the depressurized section of a cargo plane? 
Seriously, you expect me to believe this?" 


Magnus nodded again. "Yeah, and good thing too, it was a pretty 
good pilot." 


Rex looked down at the sheet, with notes about the plane crash. 
SCP Flight 2557 was found twenty miles from Site-27, having gone 
through an apparent guided emergency landing on to a small 
uninhabited island. Most of the plane had deteriorated. One Nile 
Crocodile was found in the co-pilots seat. There were elevated 
hume levels in the area for six hours following the investigation. 


Rex's mouth became a thin line. "You do realize how insane that 
sounds, right?" 


Magnus tilted his head to the side eyes blank for a moment, before 
smirking. "That's a relative term, considering about two hundred 
yards away is an entity capable of reshaping reality at will. Assuming 
343 is still kept in the same section this week." 


Kensington snorted across from the two of them. "Seriously though, 
alligator, Magnus?" 


He shrugged. "It might have been a crocodile. | can never tell them 


apart, | really should memorize the teeth thing." 


Rex flipped the documents back in to the packet, then broke the seal 
on the next report. "Okay, that's... I'll note it down that your story is 
consistent with presented events. This one is from April 22, 2014." 


Kensington held up a hand. "Wasn't that the rocket over Antarctica?" 


Magnus nodded. "Yep. Six Russians, and an airlock. Man, that 
sucked." 


Rex scanned the file, and looked up, annoyed. "Okay, come the hell 
on. You survived re-entry from orbit?" 


Magnus nodded, taking off his glasses, and cleaning a lens, his 
eyes focused anywhere except on the Agent. "Yep! | mean, it was 
painful, but | was pretty okay. Burnt my eyebrows off though." 


Rex let the file fall to the table, and sat up. "Eyebrows? It would 
have burned you to death!" 


Magnus pointed at the file. "Snowstorm. We were in Antarctica, and 
there was a whole fuckton of snow that day." 


Rex held his hands up in exasperation. "That... that isn't how 
convection works! You should have died on reentry, and slammed in 
to paste on the ground!" 


Magnus shrugged. "Look, I'm a meta-physicist, not a physicist—" 
Kensington cut in, "No you're not." 
Magnus glared over at Kensington . "It's on my degree." 


"Yes. Your fake degree. From the ‘University of Deleware’. Delaware 
has two a's in it." 


Magnus rolled his eyes, "As I've said, just because the subject is 
false doesn't mean the degree is. The University of Deleware is a 
perfectly accredit institution in the reality | got the degree in." 


Kensington waggled his fingers. "I think that's literally the definition, 


military-type boots. As he prepared to leave, he tripped over the 
shoelaces that had been undone and partly frayed and fell to the 
ground, suffering a sprained knee and dislocated shoulder. 


« SCP-670 | SCP-671 | SCP-672 » 


‘cause—" 


Rex's voice rang out: "Gentlemen! Either way, you can't survive an 
orbital re-entry." The pounding had spread up to his temples now. 


Magnus spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness, his eyes 
roaming the room. "What can | tell you, it was really windy, and 
there was this big snowdrift, and—" 


Rex slammed the file down. "You're not taking this seriously at all! 
You expect me to believe these ridiculous lies about how you 
apparently keep dodging death?" 


Magnus' face grew serious, and he looked Agent Donnarson clear in 
the eye. "All | can say is that Legends Never Die." His expression 
softened, and he winked. 


Kensington sighed heavily, and reached over to a side table where a 
stale cup of coffee was sitting. He took a sip, and shook his head 
slightly. "That's all he ever says. Annoying isn't it." 


Rex took a moment to compose himself, and set the file on the stack 
of finished files. "Whatever. Let's continue, if that's alright with you." 
He pulled out the last of the sealed files. "Okay, this one you're 
going to have to give me more than just some nonsense 
explanation. You were in Louisiana during a hurricane and got 
washed in to the sewer system by a storm surge." 


Magnus' eyes grew distant for a moment, before remembering the 
incident. "Ahh. Right. Yes, we'd been tracking SCP-4733, and 
discovered it had holed up in Golden Meadow. | was there with an 
MTF, | can't remember the name." 


Rex nodded, and continued, "Zeta-22. Clockbots or something like 
that. So the hurricane hit, and you were swept in to the sewers." 


Magnus grimaces for a moment, then continued. "Right. | was swept 
in to the sewer system. | got a melon barb stuck in my throat which 


Rex dropped the pen he was holding. "I'm sorry, repeat that for me?" 


Magnus shrugged. "Melon barb. It's a fish. Got it stuck right in my 
throat. Thankfully it kept taking in water, so | could use the gills to 
not drown." 


Kensington leaned forward. "Hold on a second. The melon barb is 
native to India, not Louisiana. What the hell are you on about?" 


Magnus turned to face Kensington. "Hell if | know. It was definitely a 
melon barb though. Someone might have had it as a pet or 
something?" 


Rex couldn't help but just stare at the two of them. "That. That is 
what's incredulous about his story?! The SPECIES OF FISH!?" 


Rex slammed the file shut. "Fine! Jesus fucking christ, enough! | 
can't believe you're wasting my time!" 


He shoved all of the papers in to the overstuffed case file. "The only 
other question | have, that I've been specifically instructed to ask, is 
after the... ‘plane crash’, you claimed a pair of 'sea turtles’ carried 
you to Hawaii. How did you get to the shore, smart guy? You 
reportedly crashed near the south pole." 


Magnus shrugged again, as if the answer was obvious. "Well, I'd 
worn my Heelies that mission, so moving long distance wasn't really 
an iss—" 


Rex slammed his hands on the table, and stood, grabbing up all the 
case file. "Fuck it! Fuck you!" He pointed to Kensington. "Fuck me! 
Fuck you all, and fuck your shit!" He stomped out of the room, 
slamming the door. 


Kensington sat blinking. He looked at Magnus, confused. "What the 
hell did | do...?" 


Magnus looked up from his phone, and shrugged. "Whatever. | told 
him everything | could about every single event. Not my fault he 
didn't believe me." 


Kensington shrugged, and stood. "True. I'll catch you later Magnus." 


Magnus waved vaguely. "Later bro." 


Dr Kensington adjusted his glasses and walked out of the office, 
passing through the Ancillary wing in to the main facility grounds. He 
pulled out his phone, swiping a few times, looking up the map of the 
facility, idly pressing here and there. 


He dipped his hand in to his pocket, and pulled out a tiny bottle 
labeled "Hand Sanitizer", squirting a bit on his right hand, rubbing it 
into his palm, and forearm. 


Kensington followed the map to the wing labeled ‘Intelligence’. He 
walked in to the main reception area, and called out: "Scuse me? 
I'm looking for Agent Donnarson?" 


An older balding man scooted his chair back out of the nearest 
cubicle. "Third office on the back wall. Name's on the door." 


Kensington nodded, with a smile. "Thankya." He took a dozen steps 
to end up in front of the door to Rex's office. He hesitated a moment, 
and knocked. 


"Come in," the agent's voice called out. 


Kensington braced himself, and walked in. Agent Donnarson sat at 
his desk, typing away at a laptop, several stacks of documents on 
his desk, as well as the case file he and Magnus had fought over. 
He put on a sunny smile, and tried to sound cheerful, "Hey, Rex. | 
just wanted to say sorry about Magnus before. He's... flippant, but 
he's good at what he does." 


Rex narrowed his eyes and sighed. "Oh. Doctor Kensington, wasn't 
it? It's fine. I'll report this, and my boss will probably order a full 
investigation. We'll get to the bottom of this." Kensington's neck 
involuntarily tightened, and he sighed internally. 


He held out his right hand. "Just call me Kens. No hard feelings?" 


Rex stood after a moment, and walked over. "No hard feelings." He 
took Kensington's hand in a firm grip. 


Kensington's left hand moved to the bracelet on his right, touching 
the small stud. A barely perceptible swoosh of air escaped the 
heavy clasp. Rex's eyes fluttered for a moment as the Class B 


amnestic took hold through the topical. 


"Hey, it's no biggie. This is all classified anyway, right? Don't worry 
about it. There's no need for a formal investigation. It's all just as 
Magnus said." 


Rex's eyes fluttered for a moment more, before mumbling out: 
"But... who classified it?"