"Final preparations are being made, Anderson," Saker #76 said 
flatly. "We'll be ready to launch soon after. | would like to discuss the 
finer points of our plan for when we return to the world of the living, 
that is assuming you're not too busy playing with your toys." 


"After you," Anderson smirked and gave an exaggerated gesture for 
the droid to lead the way. "Care to join me, #31 ?" 


Hector smiled, and nodded, copying Anderson's gesture towards 
Saker #76. 


"Before you go, Mr. Anderson," Juniper interrupted, "My brothers 
and sisters have a parting gift for you." 


The old cyborg raised an eyebrow and Juniper called over one of 
her fellow Maxwellists. The droid, still among the living, handed 
them a backpack from which Juniper pulled out a roughly carved 
wooden comedy mask. Its monochrome surface indicated it had 
been sourced from the local fauna. 


"Figured it wouldn't be fitting for you to enter Site-64 naked," Juniper 
said and handed the mask to Anderson. The old cyborg inspected it 
gingerly for a moment and then placed it upon his face. The fit was 
slightly off, but that hardly mattered. 


"This is great," Anderson replied in a low voice. "WAN be with you, 
Juniper." 


"And you as well." 


Agent Jessie Merlo sat in the Site-64 cafeteria alone, dressed in her 
combat gear. A lukewarm cup of coffee stagnated on the table in 
front of her as she took the reprieve to gather her thoughts. With 
Site-64 evacuated, and on high alert for an invasion that could begin 
at any moment, her fellow MTF agents and she had been cycling 
shifts frequently. 


"Long periods of boredom punctuated by extreme terror..." she said 
to herself and took a sip of the 'coffee.' As she put the cup down, her 
attention was drawn to the wedding band on her finger. Instinctively, 
she pulled out her personal phone and played the most recent 
message. 


"Hey Jess. It's Desmond, you know, that idiot you 
married." 


"They kicked me off-site before | could say goodbye 
properly. | insisted | could be useful and was essential 


personnel, but they shot me down with something about 
‘you're not a trained combat physician,’ 'you'll only get 
yourself killed,’ and ‘that's not how you hold a gun." 


"Heh. Can't please some people, am | right?" 


"| Know you don't need me to tell you this for a millionth 
time, but fuck it, what’s a million and one? Please be 
careful. I'll personally kill you if you end up dead at the 
end of this. Let's be honest, I'm a mess at funerals, and 
even more so if it is yours." 


"| love you, Jess. I'll see you soon." 


Jessie gave a tired smile as the message concluded and returned 
the phone to her pocket. 


"Holy shit, you really do take after your mom, you know that?" 


Jessie's peace was broken. She turned her head to see Assistant 
Director Shaw standing nearby. 


"You both married absolute dorks." 
Jessie shrugged. 


"Maybe it's genetic." 


"Yeah, maybe," Shaw chuckled, gestured to the door. "Come on, the 
Mu-13 CO wants a word with us." 


We have what he wants. We've fortified 64 and are ready for him to 
try and claim it. No elaborate or convoluted schemes. Kill on sight. 


It would be poor form if | didn't. This is my fight. | need to see it 
through to the end. 


One way or another this ends here, Gabe. After that I'll hang up my 
security key, | promise. Then maybe we can take that trip to 
Thailand you always talked about. 


Love you too. <3 


Anderson, Hector, and Saker #76 stood on a low hill. Before them, 
an army of Aplomados, Peregrines, Merlins, and Sakers slowly 
drained out of the Forest through newly formed portals, and into the 
world of the living. From the other side, the sound of gunfire, 
explosions, and screams of pain could faintly be heard. 


The assault had begun. 


"Once the forces are suitably distracted I'll have the portal you 
requested opened,” Saker #76 said to Anderson. "It will close 
immediately behind you, so you'll need Benny to signal your way 
out. That will take some time, so plan accordingly.” 


"Noted. Thank you." 
Saker #76 nodded. 


"Remember, we have a deal. Once this is done, you're due back 
here to face justice. One way or another, your chickens will come 
back to roost." 


Anderson shrugged. 


"At that point, | doubt it will matter too much what happens to me. All 
things come to an end. We-" 


Anderson was interrupted by a series of gunshots in his back, the 
old cyborg letting out a yelp of pain as he fell forward. Saker #76 
and Hector turned on the spot, a Saker unit dressed in a UIU jacket 
was now fleeing the scene. 


They were only able to make it a handful of meters before a moment 
later a thin, animated wire flew through the air behind them and 
skewered through their head, dragging them to the ground. The 
would-be assassin violently shook for several moments, then 
became siill. 


The wire slowly released and wormed its way back into Anderson's 
upraised hand. 


"Open... the portal..." Anderson said between breaths. He grimaced 
as he slowly attempted to get to his feet. Hector sprang into action to 
help his maker up. 


"You are in no condition to-" Saker #76 began. He was interrupted in 
turn by a lightning bolt firing off into the sky. 


"OPEN... THE PORTAL..." 
"So be it." 


Within a few moments, a shimmering opaque ellipse appeared. 
Anderson nodded in satisfaction. He then pulled a spectral Amur 
unit from his pocket. 


"Alright Benny," he said to the tiny drone. "Go find Phineas." 


The bot gave a nod, saluting with one of its spindly, spider-like legs 
and scurried off through the opening. 


"Come with me, #31," Anderson said to Hector. "And grab that gun, 
we'll need it." 


The old, frail cyborg and his ghostly assistant departed the world of 
the dead. There was one last errand to run. 


« The Best Laid Plans | End of Line | End of Line » 


The Best Laid Plans 


Despite its confined spaces and crowded plazas, the Wanderer's 
Library offered plenty of locations where one could perform complex 
Data Transmutation experiments away from prying eyes. In this 
case, such a location was an abandoned pavilion built around the 
remains of an ornate fountain. Without any other furniture present, it 
was the perfect nook for a pale, emaciated cyborg and a black, 
aramid-covered android to work. Between them was a fat silver 
cylinder with countless exposed wires jutting out from a jury-rigged 
frame. 


"Think it will work?" asked Peregrine #34, or Juniper as they 
preferred to be called. Their synthesized voice was deep and 
feminine. 


"Well, so far we've managed to digitize a rock, an apple, a pencil, 
and cell phone." Vincent Anderson said, rubbing his right temple 
with a mechanical hand. "So, if WAN wants to open a convenience 
store we've got them covered." 


He tapped several keys on a laptop plugged into the device, then 
gave an exasperated sigh. 


"Unfortunately, I've no idea how this thing is going to handle 
something as esoteric as a fucking soul, let alone one from a 
Peregrine or Saker. With my luck we'll probably lose test subjects to 
data corruption, assuming we don't straight up destroy them. Do we 
have a test subject ready?" 


Juniper nodded and snapped their finger. From inside the fountain a 
small black ball scurried over on a set of four needle-like legs, 
before settling on the android's palm. The Amur Series Recon Drone 
gave a salute to Anderson, causing the old man to chuckle. 


"You can always count on the Amur series," Anderson said, gingerly 
scooping up the bot. "I'm going to apologize to you in advance for 


this, little guy." 


He placed the drone down on top of the cylinder, the tiny robot eyed 
the device curiously, and poked at it a few times with a spindly leg. 


"Godspeed, noble Amur," Juniper said wistfully, taking a step back. 
"All connections are in place, and power is on." 


"Beginning program..." Anderson returned and hit enter on the 
laptop. 


The top of the cylinder glowed a bright blue, then crackled as a 
small wave of force was discharged. The Amur drone fell limp on top 
of the cylinder. Juniper approached and carefully picked up the 
empty shell. 


"No apparent external damage to the physical components," they 
relayed to their maker. "Did we?" 


"Only one way to find out," Anderson sighed, looking at the newly 
added folder on the laptop's hard drive. He opened a command 
prompt, and then began to type: 


Are you there AMUR.exe? 
There was pause, then Anderson smiled. 


Are you there AMUR.exe? 
y 


"Juniper, would you mind fetching Aaron? Tell him we have a 
working prototype." 


Within an uneventful Starbucks in Portland, Oregon, two women in 
plainclothes sat at a table, idly sipping coffee. The first was young, 
tall, and pale, with her long brunette hair done back in a ponytail. 
The second was older, tan, and had shoulder length blond hair that 
began to show streaks of gray. Her eyes panned the room from 
behind thin-rimmed glasses. They were MTF Commander Jessie 
Merlo, and Assistant Director of Task Forces Clarissa Shaw, 
respectively, and they represented the SCP Foundation. 


ID: SCP-603-115 

Aliases: None 

Compiled on: 10-Dec-20 

Recorded by: Dr. 

Description: 3 crosses were displayed in a row and a rapid 
sequence of beeps was played. This scene was captured and may 
be observed in the following file: 


There have been no recorded counts of adverse mental or physical 
effects resulting from the viewing of SCP-603-115. 


ID: SCP-603-116 

Aliases: None 

Compiled on: 10-Dec-20 

Recorded by: Dr. 

Description: A digital countdown was displayed in the center of the 
screen, starting at 256 and decreasing by 1 every tick. The rate of 
the ticks fluctuated between 0.5 and 2.0Hz. When the countdown hit 
-1, a site-wide power outage occurred which lasted for 5 seconds. 


ID: SCP-603-118 

Aliases: None 

Compiled on: 01-Jan-20 

Recorded by: Dr. 

Description: The following text was gradually printed to the screen 
over a period of approximately 2 minutes: 


Locating printer... 
Searching... 
Searching... 
Searching... 
Searching... 
Searching... 


The screen was then cleared and the attached document was 
printed from printer SCPP-HPDJ3740. There were 203 printers 
connected to the SCP intranet when SCP-603-118 was run. 


Eventually, a second pair joined them. One was an old, grizzled man 
with a constant expression of having his parking spot taken, while 
the other was younger and androgynous, with burn scars on their 
wrists. The former gave a nod as he took his seat. He was Special 
Agent in Charge Kenneth Spencer, and the latter was Special Agent 
Robin Thorne. They represented the Unusual Incidents Unit. 


"What is the rarest of sights?" Spencer asked. 


"A sunset in Portlands," Shaw replied with a small smile and slid two 
unclaimed drinks to the newcomers. "Welcome, Spencer. Thorne. 
We got you two your usual orders." 


"You shouldn't have," Spencer said, taking the beverage half- 
heartedly. "Coffee in this place is garbage." 


"Not everywhere can brew with magic," Merlo chuckled. 


"You don't need magic to make a good cup of coffee," Spencer 
replied. "But anyway, we got an update for you two." 


Thorne placed a folder on the table and slid it to Shaw. 


"According to our insider, your man's finished the machine you 
described," Thorne elaborated. "They are working out the final kinks, 
but we estimate it'll be ready within the week. After that Anderson is 
likely going to make his move." 


"That was fast," Shaw said, scanning the document. "Your agent is 
sure of this?" 


"Positive." Thorne sighed. "Ready or not, here he comes." 


"He's going to try to access SCP-3560," Merlo thought out loud. 
"The only portal there still open is the one in Forest Park. He can't 
very well move there through baseline, not with so many robots in 
tow, so he's going to probably cut through Three Portlands." 


"That's a lot of Ways he can get out of. Correct me if I'm wrong, but 
wouldn't it be easier to bottle him in the ghost zone?" Spencer 
asked. "The end result of all of this is the removal of the ghosts. 
That would make containment easier on your part and we avoid 


pissing off some very determined Maxwellists." 


"Theoretically, yes," said Shaw after another sip of her coffee. "But | 
think we can all agree that Vincent Anderson is the last person we'd 
trust with an army of ghosts. On top of that, we don't know if he'll be 
able to generate a new exit from 3560 once inside. He could go from 
a dozen or so known Ways to one that he can slap down anywhere. 
| don't like the idea of trying to outplay Vincent on his terms either, 
but right now it’s the best option. For all of us." 


The table fell into murmurs of agreement. 


"We'll have Tau-51 and Gamma-13 on standby," Merlo said. "Let us 
know when it’s time to set the trap. | can promise you Vincent 
Anderson won't be a problem anymore." 


Thorne shook their head. 


"This is the third time you guys have made that promise, Jessie. 
Perhaps its best we don't put the cart before the horse this time." 


Vincent Anderson stood before one of the Wanderer's Library's 
many secluded work tables. A large map of Three Portlands lay 
sprawled across its surface, the corners weighed down by multiple 
technical manuals. Beside him stood a man in a dark suit with a 
Maxwellist pin on the lapel, the left side of his body interwoven with 
tendrils of white aramid fabric. 


"Unfortunately, the Jailors closed most of the entry points to the 
Forest back in 2028," Aaron Howell said, watching as Anderson 
rubbed a temple in thought. "The one in Forest Park is our only 

option. Lucky for us there are three or so Ways that leave Three 
Portlands and exit relatively close to that point. Easy enough to 

make a dash before the Jailors know what's going on." 


"See, that overconfidence is going to ensure bad things will happen 
to you at some point, Aaron," Anderson said. "| can guarantee you 
that Sasha and the UIU have a rough idea what we're up to by now. 
You don't break into one of their most secure facilities and have 
them shrug it off. They're slow to act, but when the hammer comes 


down, shit gets broken." 
"The Jailors don't have access to the Library-" Aaron began to retort. 
"But the UIU does," Anderson snapped back. 


"So, what, the plan's off? Rise to the occasion and then get cold 
feet?" 


"Not at all." Anderson sighed and shook his head. "It's the best plan 
for the time frame we have. I'm just being careful.” 


The cyborg traced the streets on the map with his finger and sighed 
once more. 


"Who did you say was on the strike team again?" 


"Juniper, Troy, Donny, Ashley, and Cecil. Easily some of our most 
competent. I'm sure Juniper has shown you that by now." 


Anderson nodded and tapped on the map idly. After several 
moments of this, he stopped then looked up, a spark in his eyes. 


"What do you know about punching new Ways from the Library back 
to baseline?" 


Aaron raised an eyebrow in confusion. 


"It's tricky business for even someone skilled in the finer points of 
multidimensional travel?" 


"Is it any easier if we aren't sending a living thing through the Way?" 
Aaron paused. 


"What are you planning?" 


"Nothing elaborate. | just don't want to put all our eggs in one 
basket." Anderson smiled. "We'll need to make a few more copies of 
the transmuter, though." 


Accessing Three Portlands had been simple, as there were 
countless Ways between the anomalous city-state and the 
Wanderer's Library. In this case, Anderson, Juniper, and a handful 
of Peregrines and Sakers emerged into the cold Portlands rain in the 
middle of the night. Together, the androids and cyborg slowly made 
their way towards one of the many parks near the city's perimeter on 
foot, the heavy downpour drenching the heavy coats and masks 
they wore to hide their forms.