One indistinct, melted red corpse had its fist embedded in the 
broken remains of a Scranton Reality Disruptor. The air around it 
sputtered and rippled with the machine's dying breaths as the 
corpse's skeleton twitched. 


What was once a laser grid defense whirred quietly, sparks dripping 
from it like tears. A motionless body made of sparkling crystal lay in 
pieces before it, and the deadly beams had left their mark both on it 
and the surrounding walls and guns. 


Deeper still, walls were torn apart and corroded. One wall had been 
chewed to pieces by a swarm of fiery moths. Another had been 
turned to rock candy and shattered. 


The further into the complex, the more esoteric the defenses, and 
the more strangely they had been overcome. 


A turret was being chewed up by a Tyrannosaurus rex made of 
plasma. 


A body most certainly did not lie crumpled in a ten-meter circle 
where reality was crushed flat to two dimensions and then rolled up 
into nonexistence. 


A missile the size of a person sat in the air, encased in bone. 
A defense drone melted in a puddle of cheese. 


The Scranton Reality Anchors had sat quietly and impotently along 
the walls the entire time, for an anchor can hold a boat in place but it 
can't stop it from sinking. 


without oxidisation by means of a poorly understood nuclear 
reaction. When present on a surface, SCP-770 will absorb any 
radioactive isotopes, or any isotopes larger in atomic mass than 
iron-56, with preference given to heavier isotopes. These isotopes 
will then undergo a nuclear reaction in which they are reduced to 
more stable isotopes, and energy is released. The decay products of 
this reaction (normally lighter elements such as carbon, oxygen, or 
nitrogen), along with the energy produced, are used by SCP-770 as 
a source of sustenance so it may grow and reproduce (which it does 
by the periodic release of airborne spores). There is a strong 
possibility that the elements produced by SCP-770 will also be 
radioactive isotopes. 


During ingestion and reaction of isotopes, SCP-770 will emit 
significant quantities of ionising radiation, including alpha, beta, 
gamma, neutrons, and hard x-rays. The radiation output is so 
substantive that an adult human would receive an LDs0 level dose of 
radiation after approximately minutes exposure to 500 milligrams of 
active SCP-770. 


The mould will also release copious amounts of heat, and can 
achieve a surface temperature in excess of 1200 degrees 
centigrade. While doing this, it will appear to glow white hot. How 
SCP-770 is able to withstand this level of radiation and temperature 
without disintegration is unknown. Currently, the most feasible way 
to sterilise an area of SCP-770 is by means of specialised plasma 
arc furnaces that are designed to reach temperatures of 3000 
degrees centigrade (although Incident I-770-1 demonstrated that 
thermite, when used in a confined area, can also be effective). 


Due to the relative abundance of viable isotopes, the vast energy 
produced by nuclear reactions, and the propensity of neutron 
irradiation to create more unstable isotopes, SCP-770 has an 
extreme capacity for growth. With adequate food supply, SCP-770 
will produce spores approximately every hours, and is capable of 
doubling in mass every hours. As no known herbivores or 
herbicidal diseases could survive exposure to the radiation produced 
by SCP-770, there is no limiting factor to the mould achieving a 
geometric growth rate. In the event of a containment breach, or 
worse, a [DATA EXPUNGED] event, projections indicate that the 


Alarms kept blaring. Agent Palanez ran one last diagnostic check on 
his SEGURO suit and activated all systems. They would be here 
any second. 


O5-2 was inside a SEGURO suit of his own. If it was to be the last 
wall protecting him, there were far worse options than a metal, 
polymer, and redacted-stuff shell, powered by a blackboxed skip, an 
AIAD to move it faster than he could think, and a /ot of hope. Only 
problem was that his suit was still powering up. 


Agent Palanez had always been a man of few words. "Secure." 
Agent Figueroa continued. "Contain." 


O5-2 felt a chill down his spine. "Protect." 


KA-BOOM! 


"Get behind us, sir!" 


Palanez moved quickly and generated a force field seconds before a 
gigantic column of burning acetylene erupted from the one of the 
attackers’ hands. 


One instance with two arms holding two more disembodied arms 
made of brass led the charge of about twenty five mutants. 


The two bodyguards braced. Their suits were experimental and only 
superficially tested. Still, they had a job to do. 


Agent Figueroa stepped forward and went on the offensive. She let 
loose a pulse of energy that threw the first wave back and gave her 
a second to breathe, before shooting a gray-skinned two-headed 
man in the chest with her laser. 


One mutant extended its veins and arteries, which now ended in 
sharp points, and began to pry at the armor plating while another 
attempted to distract Figueroa with blasts of magma. A burst of 
electricity from the suit shot into the veins but the mutant held its 
ground, screaming. 


Another mutant, with only mouths on its face and neck, opened all of 
them to scream at Figueroa. She dodged more magma and swung 
the vein guy into the path of the devastating sonic waves, 
disintegrating him. The scales of armor he had managed to scrape 
loose fell off as well. 


Just gotta hold on... 


Palanez wasn't holding on as well. After narrowly escaping another 
plasma Dakotaraptor and dispatching it with a magnetic field 
generator, one older man had affixed both of Palanez's feet to the 
floor with an ultra-strong pink adhesive gunk, and was currently 
attempting to dissolve the armor with acid while two more mutants 
held Palanez. Palanez diverted power to his right leg and moved it, 
ripping up a piece of the floor along with it. Off-guard, the chemical 
mutant was sliced in half by Palanez's energy blade, but his job was 
done. 


Rita grit her teeth. Now or never. Seconds ago she had just watched 
Ernesto die to give her the opening she needed. She stayed behind 
Dylan and his rapidly breaking stone wall, and extended a single 
hair from her arm. 


The hair grew in length, and stretched out past the rock wall, past 
Ernesto's remains, past David, desperately absorbing the armored 
man's blasts, and towards the millimeter-wide breach in the suit. It 
then entered the gap, and weaved its way past the layers and 
cracks, past the carbon-woven undersuit, right down to the agent's 
skin. Rita's single black hair touched a brown one on the agent's 
arm, and her eyes widened. 


In her mind, she spoke the word that she had felt when the blessed 


goo had raised her up, the Word etched into the DNA of her every 
cell. 


THRIVE. 


Palanez felt a pinprick on his arm, then a shudder that pulsed 
through his entire body. Every one of his hairs stood on end. And 


they wouldn't sit back down. The hairs grew longer and longer. 
Some doubled back into his skin, creating new follicles that instantly 
sprouted even more hair. The hair filled the suit, and the pressure 
began to crush him. His nose and ear hairs had nowhere else to go, 
and he could feel himself suffocating. 


A bad hair day indeed. 


Exhausted, Rita fell to the floor as Palanez asphyxiated. His heart 
finally stopped, and the suit systems executed one last command. 
The outer shell fragmented and the pieces shot out at twice the 
speed of sound. The rest of it exploded, turning a six-meter radius, 
including Rita, David, and Dylan, to nothing but atoms and light. 


One down, two to go. 


Armando clenched his fists, all 12 of the ones he had active right 
now. The blessed blue-green gift had merged with his original 
anomaly and pushed him far beyond what he ever thought he could 
be. After spending so many years in a containment cell, he was 
finally in control of his anomaly. And soon, he would control his own 
destiny as well when the Foundation that imprisoned him was gone. 


The second guard was more vicious. She had just torn one of them 
in half, and then nullified a retaliatory swarm of electricity wasps. 


Rita's down. Ernesto's down. We're gonna have to tear the whole 
thing open to kill her. 


Armando tore off an arm made of solid heptanitrocubane. Using 
several more arms in a chain, he hooked the dangerously explosive 
arm around the agent's neck. 


BOOM! 


The explosion threw the remaining mutants back and filled the room 
with smoke. One mutant clapped his hands and the smoke 
coalesced into black metal needles which converged upon the 
agent. She flung them away and into another mutant, then activated 
the artificial gravity generator, bringing everyone else to their knees. 


It took a pretty big chunk of power, but Figueroa deemed it worth the 
chance to pick them off. 


She moved towards one gold-skinned woman, who shielded herself 
and the scaly man next to her under a glowing force field bubble 
resembling a tumbleweed. 


Figueroa knew it would take too much time to break the shield. She 
cranked up the gravity near those two for a split second, crushing 
them. 


GRAVITON GENERATOR SHUTTING DOWN 
Shit. 


The outer shell wouldn't hold much longer. That last explosion had 
managed to crack it, and the magma earlier had disrupted the 
polymer gel. The lowest layer of genesis weave was overworked 
trying to repair itself fast enough to cushion blows. 


With her partner down, and the O5's suit only at 61%, she'd have to 
improvise. 


Three of them remained: Armando, Angela, and Erik. They could 
see the breaches in the remaining guard's armor. If they could take 
her out, they could crack open the O5's suit like an egg at their 
leisure. 


Easier said than done, of course, but desperation was one hell of a 
drug. 


Armando and Erik rushed the guard, who responded with a sonic 
pulse. Armando quickly ripped off an arm and grew a wing, of an 
extinct anomalous bat, that negated the sound. Erik jumped high, 
and Armando grabbed his leg with three more arms and swung him 
downwards at the guard, who extended her right arm into a shield. 
Erik increased his mass 100-fold at the moment of impact, smashing 
the shield and throwing the guard to the floor. 


Not giving her a chance to respond, Armando pinned her to the 
ground with seventeen heavy metallic arms while Erik hammered 


away at the armor plating with ultra-dense fists. 
SHELL INTEGRITY CRITICAL 


The genesis weave began to give. Power systems were shorting out 
left and right. Figueroa was sure she had cracked a rib or two now. 


She activated the magnetic repulsor field, and sent the arms holding 
her down flying away. She charged one last shot on her psychic 
amplifier and liquefied Erik's brain, before her left wrist erupted in a 
shower of sparks. Armando slammed a Brachiosaurus front leg into 
her face, which she managed to block, then fired two energy balls 
right into Angela's face and stomach without missing a beat. 


Armando grabbed her with several long octopus-like tentacles, but 
Figueroa let off a charged shockwave from her central power core 
that sent him flying. He hit the wall, but managed to tear off some of 
the armor with the tentacles’ suckers. 


Armando summoned more mass than he had ever used, and grew 
an arm with a nanometer-thick neutron star skin. He couldn't 
maintain it for long, but he was desperate now. The gravity 
overwhelmed Figueroa and pulled her towards Armando, and he 
slammed her in the midsection, sending cracks spiraling through the 
rest of the suit and breaking her faceplate. 


Figueroa didn't care that her face was exposed now; she had this in 
the bag. She reached to her side and threw her only null grenade, 
the gravity of the arm directing it. Armando ripped off the arm and 
threw it as hard as he could towards her. Figueroa flinched as the 
grenade erupted into absolute nothingness, leaving an empty void of 
reality right in front of her face where the arm was. 


Then she diverted power to her palm cannons, held her wrists 
together as a ball of blue plasma glowed in her hands, and extended 
her arms to fire the beam at Armando. 


He frantically generated arms as fast as he could to block the brunt 
of the beam, but Figueroa kept walking towards him. 


Then she stopped. The beam flickered and then cut out. Figueroa 


gave one single cry of pain, followed by silence, as her right arm and 
face turned into translucent crystal. Armando turned his head and 
saw Angela, barely breathing, straining to keep her three good eyes 
open, and holding the fourth bloody, disembodied eye in her own 
hand. The gaze of all four eyes turned whatever she looked at into 
salt, as long as she kept them focused intently on the same thing. 
The suit shifted, repairing the transmutation almost as soon as it 
happened, but Figueroa was done for. Her heart crystallized, and 
the suit exploded, less forcefully this time. Angela dropped the eye 
and collapsed, finally succumbing to the gaping hole in her body. 


O5-2's suit unfolded, as it was programmed to upon the destruction 
of the other two. Better to fight at less than 100% than to be a sitting 
duck, they had reasoned. 


Armando spat blood, and put up a dozen more fists. 


"Sudden death. Winner takes all." 


Armando stood over O5-2, who was gasping in the shattered 
remains of the suit. 


"Where is your power now?" 


05-2 coughed up blood. "Was it worth it? All the lives you threw 
away to get here?" 


Armando narrowed his eyes. "That's real rich coming from you. 
Every single one of us volunteered. We knew what we were doing, 
and we all decided the reward was worth it." 


"And that reward would be?" 


"A brand new world. Where there's a place for us that's not a cell." 
He took a deep breath. "Unfortunately, | don't think there's a place in 
our world for you." 


Armando had more hands than anyone, but it only took one for him 
to strangle the man. 


Another crack in the foundations of the old world, hewn by the dead 


citizens of the new. 
The Shape of a Gun 
Apotheosis Hub 


A New Age of Magic 


A Few Memos 


From the inbox of President Mortimer Phillips: 


Dear President Phillips, 

| believe the workers in the western wing are talking about 
unionizing. Our best course of action would be to scare them. 
Perhaps the pinwheel? 

Elliot Browning, HR 


Morty, 


We got a problem with a breach in the lower floors. Apparently some 
low-level got ahold of a really sharpened pencil and has seized the 
putty manufacturing line along with some other rebels. They will, of 
course, be "fired" once this is resolved. 


Jim 


President Phillips, 


Attached you'll find a financial statement for the next fiscal quarter. 
Summary: Our stickers have gone down in sales, possibly due to 
skepticism. On the other hand, Dark Ltd. has agreed to begin 
distributing our dish-blood items. Our recommendation is a 10% 
increase in sales price to Dark Ltd. with the agreement that we 
provide a given quota of 200 annually. 


Corporate 


Monty, 
| found this note on my door today, right before my desk exploded: 


Dear Mr. Killborn, 


We will no longer take this bullshit. It is time us workers 
fight for our rights, and none of you assholes at HR can 
stop us. Consider this a final warning before we blow this 
place sky high! 


| am recommending increased security until this issue is resolved. 


Jim 


Hey boss, 
Where would you like that jacuzzi installed? 


Reggie 


Monty, 


We've found the culprits. Needless to say, their contracts with us 
have been terminated. 


Jim 


Dear Mr. Phillips,