"Got it. Everyone reading loud and clear. Two here. I've gota 
mission report: Opposition elements are approaching the docks on 
schedule. Convoy consists of four vehicles, description follows: One 
convertible sports car, red, highly customized. Two SUVs, both 
black. One van, also black. VERITAS reads... two persons in sports 
car. Four persons each in the SUVs. Two persons in the van... no 
VERITAS signature from the back of the van. All persons read as 
baseline humans, no parathreats. Break." 


"Um, Four here," Spider said, interrupting Skunkboy. "You're certain 
there's no VERITAS signature from the back of the van? There 
should be at least one. Over." 


"Two here. Wait one." Skunkboy adjusted the settings on his 
VERITAS scope and did a second scan of the van. "Yeah, no dice, 
Spider. Nothing, over." 


"That's not right. The manifest included at least one living creature... 
damn it." Skunkboy heard Spider mutter under her breath. He was 
sure that the team's thaumatologist was pacing back and forth 
again, as she tended to do when agitated. "Damn." 


"Do you want to abort, Spider?" Bullfrog interrupted. 


"No. I'm good," Spider said. "But keep a close eye on them for me. | 
don't know what's going on." 


"All right, then. Mission is go. If the shooting starts, | initiate. 
Acknowledged?" 


"Two here. We wait until you shoot or order it. Over." 
"Three," Kitten said. "You start the shooting. Over." 
"What do | do if we start shooting?" Spider asked. 


"Hit the deck and find some cover," Bullfrog said. "And hope you 
don't get shot." 


"That's not a very comforting prospect." Spider said sardonically. 


"It'll have to do. Let's cut the chatter. Out." 


Skunkboy adjusted his stance and stretched his toes out a little bit. 
Just a little longer, and it would all be over. 


"Lao Feng isn't going to like this," Zheng muttered. 


"Lao Feng can kiss my ass," Yang said. "His superstitions haven't 
gotten us anywhere. Meanwhile, the Silver Swords are cutting into 
the market... girls, guns, and drugs aren't going to cut it any more. 
We need to get in on this on the ground floor." 


"This isn't like running hookers or heroin, or even guns," Zheng 
insisted. "This is more like getting involved with dealing nukes or 
chemical weapons... | don't like this." 


It wasn't a new argument: the two men had argued these points 
many times in the past few days. Every time, the disagreement 
ended the same way. 


"You'd rather let Shi Wang Zhou and his thugs run all over us? 
You'd rather see that dogfucker Lefty feeling up your little sisters?" 
Yang growled. "Because that's what's going to happen if the Silver 
Swords get a lock on the market." 


"You know | don't want that, but... shit. This is fucking scary." 


"Keep it to yourself, then," Yang muttered. "I don't want you pissing 
yourself in front of the foreigners." 


"You know I've got your back, bro." 
"| Know you do," Yang agreed. "All right. Game face, lil bro." 


The red convertible pulled up to the warehouse and came to a halt, 
followed shortly by the two SUVS and the van carrying the goods. 
Yang's brow furrowed as he looked into the dimly lit, empty 
warehouse. 


"| thought they'd bring more people," he admitted. 


"Arrogant fuckers,” Zheng agreed. 


He got out of the convertible and jogged over to the first SUV, 
rapping on the window. It rolled down, tinted glass giving way to 
reveal a huge man with a sardonic grin and an ugly, puckered scar 
running across the entire left side of his face. 


"What's up, Yang?" 


"They've only got three people. | don't want to spook them. So have 
the rest of the boys wait outside," Yang said. 


"Shit, you sure that's smart? What if something goes down?" 


"Shit's much less likely to go down if the foreigners don't think this is 
a fucking setup. Everyone stays outside,” Yang insisted. "But keep 
an eye out... and make sure everyone's armed." 


"You got it, bro." 


Yang took a moment to adjust the collar of his shirt in the reflection 
on the side of the SUV, before rejoining Zheng by the convertible. 
"Ready?" he asked. 


"Yeah, let's go." 


There were three of them waiting inside the dimly-lit warehouse. 
Two of them looked like brainless thugs: one of them a tall, muscular 
looking woman with bored eyes and short-cropped hair. The other 
was a short, stout looking man with a big beard, whose ill-fitting suit 
strained to contain his broad chest. Yang marked them as soldiers. 
Probably bodyguards for the third: an Asian woman wearing a well- 
tailored suit: fairly young and attractive in a broad-hipped sort of 
way. She was nervous, despite her best efforts to hide it: she kept 
pushing up her glasses and fiddling with her expensive-looking 
tablet computer. Maybe a new lieutenant for the actual boss. 


"You're late," she said irritably, as Yang walked into the warehouse. 
"And you brought too many people with you." 


"Are you sure you didn't bring enough?" Yang said, grinning 
disarmingly. "If | were carrying that much cash on me, I'd have 
brought more than two guards." 


"| did," the young woman said curtly. She fiddled nervously with a 
lock of her hair. "Tell the thug outside to please look down at his 
chest before he gets any more ideas about sending teams to flank 
us." 


Yang turned and looked out the door, and pursed his lips, before 
nodding to Zheng. 


"Cuntface," Zheng growled into his walkie-talkie. "Quit trying to be 
clever and tell the boys to go back to the cars." 


"Buty. 


"Look at your chest, you fucking idiot," Zheng snapped. "The 
foreigners have you in their sights." 


There was a brief bout of cursing over the radios, as the scar-faced 
goon finally saw the red dot floating on his chest, and a flurry of 
movement and shouting as a bunch of guys sheepishly emerged 
from the shadows and jogged back to the cars. 


"| thought that snipers usually don't use laser sights," Yang mused. 
"Especially not visible light ones." 


"Consider it... making a point," the woman said, sighing with relief. 
"Now that we've gotten that out of the way, shall we move on to 
business?" 


Skunkboy carefully turned off the laser pointer and slid it back into 
his pants pocket. It was a silly trick, but one that worked pretty well 
for intimidation purposes. 


The taller one with the fancy silk shirt nodded to his friend, who 
growled a couple of words into his walkie-talkie. The big van pulled 
away from the two SUVs and began backing up towards the 
warehouse door. 


"Shit," Skunkboy whispered over the comms. "! don't have a line of 
sight to inside the van." 


"Watch the fuckers outside,” Bullfrog muttered. "Let Kitten and | 


worry about the van." 


"Boss, there's eight of the motherfuckers outside," Skunkboy griped. 
"Even | can't take on eight of them." 


"Then get the leader and keep the rest of their heads down, if it 
comes to that," Bullfrog said, "and we'll help out as soon as 
possible." 


"Easy for you to fucking say," Skunkboy muttered, but he ducked his 
head back down and continued to scan the exterior scene through 
his rifle scope. 


Just to be sure, though, he made sure he had a round in the 
chamber. 


The van doors opened, and the young woman's brow furrowed. She 
reached into the back of the van and rattled the bars of a heavy- 
gauge wire cage. "... it's dead," she said. 


"It was alive when we left," Yang insisted. 


"Well, it's dead now," the woman hissed. She rattled the bars of the 
cage again and threw her hands in the air. "What am | supposed to 
do with a dead specimen?" 


"Stuff it and mount it? | don't know..." 
"Wait," the woman snapped. "Are these cage bars steel?" 
"Is that a problem?" 


"Yes, it's a problem! These things are allergic to ferrous metals!" the 
woman shouted angrily. "No wonder it died on the way here! It was 
probably dead of shock before it got halfway here! And your 
brainless thugs didn't notice?" 


"Kai?" Yang growled. 


"... we heard it yelling and thrashing!" the younger man admitted. 
"But we thought it was just..." 


"You stupid dogfucking idiot!" Yang shouted. "You didn't think to tell 
me?" 


"But..." Kai halted and bit back the rest of his words, before bowing 
his head respectfully to the older man. "No excuse, sir." 


"Get the fuck back in the van and start unloading. I'll deal with you 
later," Yang shouted. He turned back to the woman and gave her his 
best, most charming smile. "Now... | deeply apologize for..." 


"I'm not paying full price for the shipment,” the woman interrupted. 
"Two million only." 


"That's half of what we agreed upon!" Zheng objected. "Just 
because one stupid animal is dead?" 


"That stupid animal was the most valuable thing in the shipment. All 
the rest is trinkets. Two million. Take it or leave it." 


"We'll take it," Yang said curtly. He turned to his friend and said, ina 
low voice, "You want them to start dealing with the Swords instead?" 


"... two million isn't enough. We can't arm ourselves on two million. 
We need at least three," Zheng pointed out. 


"We'll make do with two million for now. And we'll set up a second 
shipment for the foreigners." 


"That's not going to help if the Silver Swords make their move before 
then." 


"Then we'll just have to pray that they don't," Yang said. "Maybe you 
should invest some of that two million in incense for the gods." 


He slapped his friend on the shoulder and turned back to the 
foreigners. "Two million." 


"Oh, thank fucking God," Skunkboy sighed. "You have no idea how 
close that ugly dude out here came to shooting. He actually had his 
gun out of its holster." 


"Well, it's over now," Bullfrog said. "So get packed up and let's get 
the fuck out of this country." 


"All right, I'll see you... wait one." Skunkboy halted as something 
moved in the corner of his field of vision. He panned the scope down 
and to the left. "Fuck!" he snapped. "Boss, | fucked up!" 


Yang was surprised when the big foreigner, the man, put his hand to 
his ear and shouted, "Situation report!" in English, very loudly. He 
was even more surprised when the foreigner grabbed the young 
woman by the shoulder and pulled her away from the van and 
pushed her to the ground, one hand dipping into his jacket as he did 
so. 


"What the hell is this?" Yang shouted. 
"We're about to get hit!" Bullfrog snapped. "This is a fucking setup!" 


Yang turned to yell for Cuntface Teng and the boys to get ready, but 
as he turned to face his soldiers, he realized that all eight of them 
had their guns out... and pointed at him. 


Oh. So it's THAT kind of setup. 


He grabbed Zheng by the collar and pulled him to the ground just as 
the shooting started. 


It was really too easy, in the end. All but two of the boys were in on 
the plan, and those two were in the warehouse with Yang and 
Zheng. It was too bad that his plan to sneak a few guys to block off 
the back exits had failed, but he would make do with two-to-one 
odds. 


Cuntface Teng wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the pack, but he 
was smart enough to see where the tide was turning. And the tide 
was most definitely turning away from Lao Feng and towards Shi 
Wang Zhou. Not that he had anything against the old man, but there 
was no way the family was going to survive, not against the 
resources the Silver Swords could muster. 


SCP-653: The Boomerang 


Item #: SCP-653 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-653 is to be kept ina 
securely locked box in Storage Room B at Site- . The keys to the 
box are to be in the possession of Researcher . Removal of 
SCP-653 requires at least two armed guards. 


If skin contact is made with SCP-653 outside of experimental 
conditions, the affected individual is to be separated from SCP-653 
and taken in for testing. Test subjects are to be kept under sedation 
in order to prevent self-injury while attempting to re-acquire 
SCP-653. Due to many individuals having become obsessed with 
SCP-653 prior to containment (see Addendum), people may attempt 
to enter Site- in order to regain possession of SCP-653. These 
individuals are to be apprehended and brought into Site- for 
testing. 


Description: SCP-653 is a plastic, multi-coloured boomerang 
measuring 25 centimetres from tip to tip. SCP-653's shape is the 
typical returning boomerang; however, it is more durable than its 
makeup would indicate. 


If a person makes skin contact with SCP-653, they will instantly 
become obsessed with it and will not allow it to leave their 
possession. After approximately 48 hours, they will develop a 
condition similar to magnetoception, becoming aware of SCP-653’s 
approximate position at all times; testing has shown that removing 
SCP-653 from the subject does not affect the rate at which the 
condition develops. Once the subject is aware of where SCP-653 is, 
they will be compelled to throw it as they would a typical boomerang. 
Instead of returning, however, SCP-653 will travel large distances 
away from the subject. Once SCP-653 has been thrown, the subject 
will immediately begin to seek it out; aided by their magnetoception, 


Lao Feng was old school. He believed in the gods and the spirits. 
That sort of antiquated mindset wasn't going to work any more. 


It was a shame that a bunch of good boys were going to die, good 
boys that Shi Wang Zhou could use. At the very least, he'd get to 
see that faggot Yang get it. 


"Skunkboy!" Bullfrog shouted over the comms. "Take these fuckers 
out!" 


"Can't!" Skunkboy shouted back. "I've got three fucking vehicles full 
of fucking Triads coming up the road!" 


"Shit!" Bullfrog shouted. He was seriously hating this entire fucking 
mission. Bullets were snapping past his head and splintering the 
wooden crates behind him and punching holes into the side of the 
van. He could already see one of the Triad guys laying on the 
ground in a pool of blood. A second was huddled behind the van's 
wheel, weeping and cursing as he tried to stop a wound in his leg 
that was pouring blood. A second burst of gunfire skipped off the 
concrete and into his gut, and he slumped over, breath gurgling. 


The two remaining gangsters had managed to get behind cover 
along with his team: the boss guy with the fancy shirt and his friend 
with the angry eyes. They had pistols in their hands, and were firing 
wildly over the tops of the crates, before ducking back down as 
another burst of gunfire stitched through the air. 


The situation, Bullfrog realized, was looking pretty much 
unsurvivable. He was pinned down by a force with superior numbers 
and firepower. He had the advantage of cover for now, but it was 
only a matter of time before the enemy managed to flank him. Then 
he was going to die. 


It was time to do something stupid. 
"Kitten!" he shouted. 


The tall, wiry woman glanced up from her position. Her expression 
had not changed one bit from its usual boredom, even when a close 


burst caused a bullet to whip by so close to her face that it actually 
ruffled her hair. 


Bullfrog slid his pistol across the concrete to his teammate. "Go start 
some shit," he shouted. 


Kitten's eyes lit up. Her mouth twisted into a fierce, angry grin. 
Bullfrog saw her draw the biggest fucking knife he'd ever seen from 
some hidden sheath under her suit jacket and hold it in her teeth. 
She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled once long and slow, 
exhaled sharply. 


Then she moved. 


Skunkboy had a bit of a love-hate relationship with the United States 
Marine Corps. On the one hand, they'd taken half a decade of his 
life, forced him to endure shitty food and idiotic colleagues, and 
basically given him nothing but hatred and contempt for the modern 
military. If he had to deal with one more slogan-spewing jarhead in 
his life, it would be too much. When the recruiter had asked him to 
re-up after his first term of service, he'd laughed at the guy to his 
face.