“Nope,” Shaw replied, taking a sip of her coffee. “Did they settle ona 
plan?” 


“They are shipping him to 19 tomorrow for long term storage,” Merlo 
sighed. “High priority Pol, maximum security containment needed, 
O5 orders, and all that jazz.” 


“At least we got him,” Shaw chimed in cheerfully. “For once, we 
won.” 


“It's true,” Merlo said with a small smile. “We finally got him.” 


The two looked at the monitor for several moments, watching the 
motionless body on the screen. 


“Dan and | were planning on hitting up Secret Crest tonight,” Merlo 
broke the silence. “I’m buying. Care to join us?” 


Shaw smiled but shook her head. 
“| think I'll pass for now. Thanks though.” 
“Clarissa, | insist.” 


“Don't do this to yourself,” Shaw replied sharply. “You don’t owe me 
a damn thing. This wasn’t your fault.” 


Shaw wheeled herself back and forth slightly for emphasis. 


“If you need atonement, seek it from Holman, or Navarro. As far as 
I’m concerned, the only one responsible for this situation is the 
monster on that screen.” 


Tears were visible in Shaw’s eyes. 
“Just... promise me I’m still a Lawbringer.” 


Merlo closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure what they were going to do 
with Shaw at this point. There was talk about making her the HQ 
coordinator for the agents in the field, but mobile task forces needed 
to be mobile above all things. It was just as likely that Clarissa Shaw 
would be forced to retire. 


Merlo gave a sharp nod, and hugged her friend. 


“They'll have to pry you from my cold, dead, hands.” 


Navarro and Merlo sat at the bar of the Secret Crest Pub, a small 
brewpub located in Portland’s Pearl District. The owner, having been 
a former Site Director of Site-64, made the location a welcome 
haven for those Foundation personnel who had gotten off their 
shifts. Both agents sat in plain clothes, the former’s left sleeve 
pinned upward to make up for his new lack of a hand. 


“Shaw might let you off easily,” Navarro commented as he sipped 
his drink, “but you’re buying me my drinks forever.” 


“Fair enough,” Merlo replied, holding up her fingers to signal another 
round. She paused for several moments before she finally added. 


“I’m sorry though Dan. | really am.” 


“You should be,” Navarro said with sly smile. “That was the hand | 
used to flip people off. Now | can’t properly express myself. You 
have emotionally crippled me.” 


Merlo gave small snort and shook her head, taking a long sip from 
her beer. 


“What kind of ammo were you using in that shotgun, anyway?” 
Merlo asked. “Haven’t seen it before.” 


“Something | picked up on an assignment in Japan. Completely 
nonlethal.” 


“The great Daniel Navarro, even in the face of a killer cyborg, you 
can’t bring yourself to kill someone.” Merlo chuckled. Navarro joined 
in. After a few more moments they returned to their drinks in silence. 


“So what happens now?” Navarro asked after finishing his second 
drink. “You guys got your prize. What’s next for Gamma-13?” 


“We caught Anderson, yes,” Merlo replied with a sigh. “But the 
company still exists. Phineas has probably taken over by now. Lop 
off one head and have another two grow back in its place.” 


“Indeed,” said a warm voice from behind the two agents. They 
swiveled on their stools and came face to face with an old woman 
carrying a box. She wore a dark blue business suit and her grey hair 
was tied back in a bun, and gave a soft, sympathetic smile. 


Navarro and Merlo locked eyes for a moment, and prepared to 
speak. They were interrupted as the old woman introduced herself. 


“My name is Mrs. Saker,” she said. “I was a friend of Phineas.” 


“Subtle,” Merlo replied. “Phineas send you to strike out another 
deal?” 


“Phineas is dead,” Mrs. Saker said softly. “Anderson slaughtered 
him in his apartment shortly before you captured him, as he did to all 
of those who threw their lot in with the old fool. I’m all that’s left of 


does the street listed exist. 


The text is a collection of newspaper clippings and short articles on 
major events from January 1900 to December 1995. Much of the 
first half of the text agrees with recorded events but at some point no 
later than 15 June 1956, a date researchers have termed the Point 
of Divergence (PoD), the text begins to diverge from known history. 
These divergences become more common and acute the further 
away from the PoD the text is. 


Subjects reading from the text before the PoD report no ill effect and 
generally comment that the text is well written and seems very 
accurately researched. Subjects reading from the book after the 
PoD understand the passage read as accepted truth, and 
vehemently deny any suggestions that the text is in fact incorrect. 
The claims subjects make are often disturbing or shocking in nature. 
It also appears that a subject that has read passages from a certain 
year can recount events that are detailed in later sections of the 
book. 


It has been found that those born before the date which the test 
passage indicates, and lived in or nearby the location of the event 
described, may construct personal experiences built around the 
event and describe them as they would any other vivid memory. The 
subject will go to great measures to defend the reality of their story, 
often turning violent if under interrogation. 


Exposure to SCP-592 may alter physical characteristics of the 
subject to conform with the events of the passage being read. This 
can vary from small changes in appearance or clothing to the 
infliction of severe wounds. For example, in one instance a subject 
(D-94920) produced a scar during an interview, stating that he 
"picked it up during the [DATA EXPUNGED)". His widow, when 
presented with the scar, located on his __, was surprised, stating 
she "had not noticed [the scar] before". 


It has been found that once the subject discovers that the world is 
inconsistent with their acquired memories, they begin to feel that the 
present reality is an illusion, a dream, or a deceit, often stating 
malevolent or government forces are at work in maintaining the 
illusion. Subjects who reach this stage enter into a profound and 


Phineas’s band of merry men.” 
Merlo paused. 
“So who has taken charge of the company?” 


“It remains to be seen,” Mrs. Saker replied. She then placed the box 
on the bar next to Navarro. 


“Phineas would have wanted you to have this for your troubles. 1'll 
be working on something for your friend Ms. Shaw in the meantime. 
We'll be in touch.” 


Mrs. Saker gave a curt nod and turned away, leaving the pub as 
quietly as she entered, and disappearing into the foot traffic outside. 
Merlo and Navarro looked towards the box, the latter cautiously 
opening it. Inside was a black prosthetic arm, marked with the 
Anderson Robotics logo. A card was placed on top which read: 


Thank you for your purchases of your new 
GYRFALCON™ Series prosthetic. 


Jason and Medea Contos sat at the board room table inside 
Anderson Robotics HQ. Neither of them could remember the last 72 
hours, and had woken in their respective homes beaten and bruised. 
In the time they had come into work, they had learned that both 
Vincent Anderson and Phineas had completely vanished, leaving no 
one to man the company helm. Joining them at the table was Dr. 
Jeffery Wilson, and Isaac Dillard. The former was a middle aged 
man with dark skin. His face seemed to be permanently pressed into 
an expression of worry. The latter was a muscular man ina 
business suit whose hair was neatly combed back, and carried a 
faint scent of aftershave with him. Isaac cleared his throat, and then 
began to address his colleagues. 


“Well folks,” he began, “we all knew this day was likely to come. 
Now we need to make a decision, and fast. The stability of the 
company depends on it.” 


Isaac let out a sad sigh. 


“We need to replace Anderson.” 


All the eyes in the room turned to one another, bouncing from locked 
gaze to locked gaze before all glances settled on the floor. 


“My vote,” Isaac continued, “is for Medea to take the reins.” 
“M.. me?” Medea stuttered. “For the love of God, why?” 


“You're the closest person we have to matching Vincent and 
Phineas’s raw talent,” Isaac replied. “You know their vision for our 
products and customers as well as they did. It will be a hard road, 
but we’re here to help every step. Unfortunately, someone needs to 
step up to the plate, and I’m afraid it’s your turn to bat.” 


Medea looked down at the table nervously. 


“I... |Lwouldn’t even know where to start... Isaac, | can’t be set adrift 
like this...” Medea mumbled. “I... | don’t know what to do...” 


“You don’t need to,” said a voice from the entrance of the room. 


The four heads at the table turned to the board room’s entrance. 
Standing there was a tan man in a blue dress shirt, with a silver vest 
and matching slacks. He had long black hair tied back in a ponytail 
and piercing green eyes. A silver comedy mask was gripped in his 
left hand as he made his way to the head of the table. While it was 
no longer mechanical sounding, the four board members recognized 
his voice. 


“Vince?” Wilson asked. “What.... What happened to you?” 


“Got a little tied up with the Foundation, I’m afraid,” Vincent replied 
with a cheerful smile. “I’ve made use of some of the tech created by 
Myra Rider. You remember her, right? Lovely up-and-coming 
member of the R&D team. Anyway, for the time being I'll be 
operating remotely through Saker-101 here.” 


Anderson gestured to himself. 


“Not bad, don’t you think?” 


“If your physical body is in the hands of the Foundation...” Jason 
asked slowly, “Isn’t that potentially a massive breach of security for 
us?” 


“You bet,” Anderson said warmly, "They've got me by the balls. If 
they tamper with my body | could die, and | can't use magic like this. 
But for the time being it’s the best option | have. I'll just pop back to 
them every now and then. Throw them a bone.” 


The room fell silent. The eyes of the board members fell on the 
table. Their frames felt small under weight of Anderson’s piercing 
gaze and monumental smile. 


“I’ve also got a surprise for you...” Anderson chimed, and turned 
toward the board room doors. “Look who's back!” 


Anderson threw open the doors, and a skinless Saker unit walked in, 
dressed entirely in black save for its red tie. 


“Afternoon everyone,” the android said in Phineas's voice then 
produced a small smile. “I apologize for my absence. It’s good to be 
back.” 


The board members looked at the Saker with wide eyes. Sideways 
glances met with one another and an air of terror crept over the 
table. 


“Anyway,” Anderson beamed, placing his comedy mask on his face. 
“Phineas and | have a lot of work to catch up on from this past 
month. Let’s hit the ground running. We still need to get the Taita 
series prototype rebuilt. You all take care.” 


Anderson and "Phineas" left the room, the doors closing behind 
them. 


For several minutes there was silence. Isaac organized several 
papers in front of him, and met the horrified gaze of every other 
member of the room in turn. 


“Well folks,” he said softly, “we all knew this day was likely to 
come...” 


«Consolidation | Austringers 


No Good Deed 


January 18th, 2020 


As the doctors, nurses, CNAs, and other hospital personnel carried 
out their duties within Portland's St. Vincent's Hospital, a man ina 

blue and silver suit weaved his way towards a room in the facility's 
med-surge unit. His name was Vincent Anderson, and he was 
there to visit an injured employee. 


"Keep up, Isaac," Anderson said to a man trailing behind him. "We 
don't want to be here longer than we have to." 


"Sure thing," his associate replied, and quickened his pace. Before 
long, the two of them had arrived at their destination, one of many 
identical hospital rooms. 


Inside this room, a young woman laid in a hospital bed. Her face 
was swollen and bruised, and her right arm was held against her in 
a sling. It was clear that both her legs had been amputated below 
the knee. Sitting beside her was an older woman in a dark blue 
business suit. 


"Mr. Anderson," the older woman stood up at their arrival. "We 
weren't expecting you to personally pay a visit." 


"Afternoon, 45," Anderson replied. "Thank you for looking after our 
friend here." 


He then approached the woman in the bed, giving her a sympathetic 
smile as he approached. 


"You must be Rebecca Quinn," Anderson continued. "I'm Vincent 
Anderson. This is my associate Isaac Dillard. | do believe you work 
for me." 


The woman on the bed gave a weak smile and slowly nodded her 


head. 


"Yeah..." She coughed and gave a small chuckle. "Distribution 
Center in Three Portlands... Had a bit of accident with one of the 
Taita units." 


"Just a small one," Anderson chuckled. "Isaac told me you chose to 
come here over Sacred Gear in Portlands. If you don't mind me 
asking, why? It would have been faster..." 


"I... just felt more comfortable receiving treatment that wasn't 
bedazzled, or from a Witch Doctor," Rebecca replied. "Besides, the 
Taita incinerated my legs after severing them. Not much they could 
have done there that they didn't do here." 


Rebecca's smile then became a worried frown. 
"Am... am | fired, sir?" 


"Oh of course not," Anderson said, taken aback. "You've put in over 
10 years of top-notch service, and these kinds of things happen 
when you work with prototypes." 


Rebecca's smile returned. 
"Thank you..." 


"Of course. My employees are my family. We're going to put you on 

paid leave until you feel you're ready to return. At that point, we'll set 
you up with a voucher for two Gyrfalcon series prosthetics. Throw in 
two upgrades as well. Then, once you're comfortable with your new 

hardware, your position will still be there." 


Rebecca's mouth hung open in shock. The room fell silent, save for 
the tapping of Isaac taking notes on his smartphone. 


"Mr. Anderson..." 


"Call me Vincent," Anderson interrupted with a chuckle. "And | insist. 
Here at Anderson Robotics we take care of our own, no matter 
where they fit into the company machine." 


Rebecca nodded. Tears rolled down her face as she smiled. 
"Thank you, Vincent," she finally managed to say. 


"Any time," Anderson replied. "I'm afraid Isaac and | will need to take 
our leave now. Mrs. Saker here will stay with you until your 
emergency contacts arrive." 


Without another word, Anderson and his assistant took their leave. 
Isaac finished typing up his notes, walking beside his employer as 
they made their way through the hospital parking garage, toward an 
entrance into Three Portlands. 


"I'm not in accounting, but I'm pretty sure your 'Get Well Soon' 
present is going to cost the company a pretty penny," Isaac 
commented. "The Gyrfalcon series are not just things to give away 
as party favors." 


"It’s my private company," Anderson replied. "I'll do whatever the 
hell | want with it. My employees are my family and | will do well by 
them, just as they do well by me. Am | clear?" 


"You're the boss," Isaac agreed with a shrug. The two men entered 
an elevator, and tapped an intricate pattern into the buttons. Despite 
being on the top floor the elevator began to ascend and carried them 
into Three Portlands. 


August 15th, 2020 
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt 


Agent Sasha Merlo stirred from her sleep. She brushed a lock of 
brown hair out of her eyes and looked at the digital clock on her 
nightstand. 2:16 AM. She grumbled under her breath as she 
grabbed her cell phone. 


"Go for Merlo," she said sleepily, sitting up in bed. 
"Sasha, it's Clarissa," came a woman's voice over the other end. 


"Shaw?" Merlo asked. "It's two in the morning... what’s up?" 


"It’s Anderson. We got a call from Labelle at Site-19. He's awake. 
We're getting called in to do interviews."