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Chapter Text

Site-0, 4:00.

A lone guard yawned as he checked his watch, shiny against the black matte of his heavy-duty gloves. Only an hour left before his shift ended, and then he could crash for the rest of the day.

Yawning, he glanced around to make sure no one was looking, then reached into his pocket, pulled out his handphone and some earphones, placed the ends of the little devices into his ears under his helmet and turned his phone on, scrolling through his pre-made playlist.

Pre-made, because his eldest daughter had made it for him. It was mostly filled with songs in a very random order, because that’s how she was, and he didn’t have the heart to change it when she had taken a good chunk out of her day to do this for him.

Finally, he settled on ‘Rubberband Man’ by The Spinners, and soon, the funk song filled his ears and he let his mind wander as he gazed upon the wide berth that belonged to the SCP that Site-0 was in charge of containing.

Or rather, keeping an eye on.

He was called ‘The Gate Guardian’, but O5-1 and the others who weren’t researchers preferred to refer to him as Shamshel. The guard had to admit that it was a better name than 001, though he didn’t know why. Maybe it just made him sound more human? Whatever it was, if the SCP had no objections to the name, then he was fine with it as well.

Right now, Shamshel was asleep, his huge flaming wings wrapped around him like a fiery feathered sleeping bag and one wing draped over his head. The guard had to admit that, for all the SCP’s intimidation, he actually looked weirdly adorable like this, all docile and peaceful and-

Suddenly, Shamshel stirred, the sound, coming from an individual the size of a hugag on stilts, being loud enough to cut through the song playing on the guard’s earphones and vibrate through his skull. He pulled them out and holstered his rifle, getting ready to…what? He didn’t know.

The angel simply lay down again, and the guard chastised himself for not being alert. Of course, nothing was happening. He should really find another way to stay awake other than music. Anymore shocks like this and he was going to get-

“WHERE IS MY SWORD”!?

The shout reverberated throughout Site-0, shaking most of the on-site personnel out of their drowsy states and sending a chorus of panicked shouting through all of them. The guard stuffed his phone and earbuds into his pocket and looked out to see Shamshel fully awake and with his wings outstretched.

And then, before he could so much as speak…

The SCP took off into the sky, leaving a patch of scorched earth behind.

With trembling hands, the guard touched his earpiece and sent a message. “All personnel on Site-0”…

Chapter Text

Łękno, Szczecin, 6:30 a.m.

Fight so dirty but your love so sweet~ Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth~

“I’ve got teeth in my mouth and I will chomp you to bits”, Kiet grumbled as he grumpily turned his alarm off and got up with all the grace of a zombie rising out of its grave. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around for his sister, and got his answer when she stepped out of the bathroom.

“Rise and grind, sleepyhead”~ she teased, towelling her hair dry. She was wrapped in a powder green towel and the steam wafting from her smelled strongly of vanilla and sandalwood.

“Fuck off”, he breathed out, making her laugh as he grabbed his own powder yellow towel and headed into the shower.

Morning ablutions attended to and now no longer smelling like bug-infested linen, Kiet started combing his hair beside Dara, who had finished rubbing camellia oil in and was now combing it to a high shine. She turned to look at him, hair still clutched in one hand.

“You’ve got bags under your eyes again”, she noted.

Kiet glared at her. “Don’t start ratting me out to mom”.

“Its not good for you”, Dara mused, finishing brushing out the knots in her hair and securing any baby hairs with hairpins. “You should get more sleep. How about we spend the night at Site-16? It’s a weekend anyway”.

“It’s a three-day weekend, you mean”, Kiet corrected her.

“Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh, still a weekend anyway”, Dara pouted, then slithered into her boots and immediately shot out the door. “Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay for a glooooooooooooooooooooorious mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooorning”!

“This girl, I swear to God”… Kiet grumbled as he finished combing his hair, pulled on his own boots and padded out of their room, making sure to switch off the fan as he did.

-

“And up next, we have Chatty here with her firsthand account of having witnessed the smugglers in action”-

“Phracêā thī̀ dī”, Kohsoom grumbled as she fiddled with the scope of her rifle. “All these witness reports and they still haven’t done jack shit about them”.

“They’re slick, I’ll give them that much”, Lucrezia replied, then whipped her head around as a crash was heard from the basement. “Mio dio”…

“M’ALRIGHT”! Jude shouted from the basement, though the sound of more tools crashing down did nothing to convince the two women that he was okay. “JUST DROPPED THE TOOLBOX! I’LL LIVE”!

Kohsoom made to get up, but Lucrezia pushed her back down. “Let me”.

She left to go help her husband out in the basement, while Doris turned to face Kohsoom next. “Should I go wake the kids up”?

“Nyeh, let them sleep”, Kohsoom replied, blowing some dust off the rifle’s handle. “Kiet’s been up for two weeks at this point and he badly needs it”.

Then they heard someone climbing down the steps, and Kohsoom looked up to see her daughter descending the steps, clad all in green and her oiled and brushed hair dancing about her shoulders and waist.

“Morning, Ma”! she purred, leaning over to rub noses with her mother. Kohsoom obliged, smoothing down some baby hairs in her daughter’s hair.

“Good morning”, she replied, pulling out a chair for her to sit down. “And where is your brother”?

“Right here, Mae”, Kiet replied, descending the stairs at a slower pace and kissing her instead. “Sorry, I couldn’t really sleep”.

“‘Tis a long weekend, you can sleep over at Site-16 later if you feel tired”, Kohsoom replied as he went to sit down and grabbed a ciabatta roll from the many in the plate in the middle of the table. Dara was already stuffing her face in the meantime.

“Giuro che non so come ho finito per sposarti”, Lucrezia huffed as she supported a bedraggled Jude all the way back to the dining table. By the looks of it, he’d accidentally huffed one of the chemicals used in his many failed inventions.

“I don’t now what you just said, babe, but thanks for the concern”, Jude mused gently, nuzzling his wife, who just gave him a mildly exasperated look.

“Please just don’t try to kill yourself before Manon and Luca come home”, she pleaded with him, before sitting down herself. “So, what’re everyone’s plans for today”?

“Are you two coming to Site-16 or going somewhere else”? Kohsoom asked the twins.

“We’re following you to Site-16 today”, Kiet stated briskly, washing down his ciabatta roll with some strawberry milk. “I need to look through some reports, and Kondraki asked for help with filtering River’s spring water”.

“Alright then. What about you Dara”? Kohsoom asked her daughter next.

“I’m gonna romp with the SCPs”! Dara purred, her voice muffled by the bread in her mouth.

“And you’re gonna help me with River later”, Kiet reminded her. “You should learn to use your free time wisely”.

“Playing with the SCPs counts as spending time wisely, yanno”, Dara retorted. “You should’ve seen all the data Kathleen was able to collect last month! She said most of it was from me”!

“All the same, just remember: Work hard and play hard, alright”? Jude reminded them. “There’s a time for work, and there’s a time for fun, so be responsible when you manage your time”.

“We will”, Kiet assured him.

“H̄ı̂ tāy s̄i dū welā s̄i”, Kohsoom mused, slinging her rifle around herself as she got up. “You two take your time. I can wait”!

“¡Ya terminé”! Dara yelled, zooming out of the kitchen and grabbing her backpack from the rack near the door. “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go”!

Doris gave Kiet a sympathetic look as he collected his and Dara’s glasses and put them in the dishwasher. “You could always stay home instead”.

“Someone has to make sure she doesn’t kill herself”, the boy replied, grabbing his backpack and heading out the door.

Chapter Text

By the time the Cortezes got to Site-16, the sun was fully up and it illuminated the building in a bright shade of white. The windows were shut tight, but the lighting and noises from within indicated the buzz of activity inside.

Once they scanned their keycards and padded in, they proceeded to their respective routines as if on autopilot. Kohsoom headed down the hallway leading to the gym to work out for awhile before she proceeded on her rounds, while Kiet headed to the labs to work on some reports that had yet to be finished.

Dara headed to the SCP zone, which was like a lobby-cum-rest area for SCPs of either class so long as they could fit in the building. Once there, she saw most, if not all, of Site-16’s SCPs there. Logan (049) was busily jotting some notes in his leatherbound notebook; Gustav (035) was hovering over his shoulder, presumably flirting with him; Eun Byeol (953) was seated cross-legged on the floor with Josie (529) in her lap. When the half-cat (as she was so often nicknamed) saw Dara coming, she let out an excited ‘MROWR’ and leapt into the girl’s arms.

“Woah! Easy there, Josie”! Dara laughed, nuzzling the tabby cat SCP in greeting. “What’s got you so excited this morning”?

“She’s waiting for you to pay the cheese tax”, Eun Byeol replied, snickering.

“Aw, I’m sorry, Josie. We’ll go get cheese sticks later, mkay”? Dara cooed to the SCP, who simply purred and shoved her head under her chin, demanding rubs.

Logan and Gustav were preoccupied, so Eun Byeol invited Dara and Josie to her room (containment chamber), where she pulled out an embroidery set and begin working on it. Dara followed along, and soon they too were preoccupied, while Josie attempted to bite and swat the strings as the needle passed in and out of the fabric.

-

Meanwhile, in the training room, the clashing of swords could be heard, as well as faint chattering. Kohsoom dodged a swing from Able (076-2), who pulled his large black and red sword back and readied for another round. His brother, Cain (073), was acting as the referee, writing tallies for each of their scores in a little notebook.

“That is two for Kohsoom, and one for you, brother”, he said at length after they finished the second round.

“Darn it”, Able grumbled as he gulped some water from a thermos. “How did you get so good at this”?

“I learnt from the best, after all”, Kohsoom replied smugly. “Another round”?

Able cast a sidelong glance at the guards who had come to watch them and shook his head. “I’ll pass. You still have the rest of your rounds to complete”.

With that, he shoved his sword back into its little pocket dimension and left, patting his brother on the shoulder as he passed him. The other guards left too, presumably for their quarters or the showers, while Cain turned to Kohsoom.

“May I accompany you”? he asked her.

“Are you sure”? Kohsoom asked back. “I’m going to the Heavy Containment Zone now”.

“It will be fine”, Cain assured her. “There is not much for me to do here anyway”.

She quietly accepted, deciding that some company was better than none as they left the gym.

-

“Alright, so…what am I supposed to do again”? the D-Class man, Everett, asked.

“You’re going to lift one of those doughnuts up and then you’re going to shake it like you’re shaking something out of a pill bottle”, Kiet clarified, putting down his clipboard and pen to peer into the doughnut box vended by 261. “And we’ll see what falls out”.

“If its bugs again, boy, I’m chucking this doughnut in the bin”, Everett grumbled.

“Do that, and you’ll be termina”- the guard stopped short at his threat when Kiet glared at him.

“Point taken, now carry on”, he indicated to Everett, who shook the doughnut hard.

Something oblong and green fell out of the little multidimensional hole in the middle and clattered like a coin onto the table. Kiet picked it up and examined it under a magnifying glass, realising it was a piece of polished pounamu.

“Interesting”, he mused, then looked up when he heard a louder clattering.

Everett was still holding the doughnut upside down, and that had caused more gemstones to spill out of the hole, forming a pile on the floor as high as the table. Rubies, topazes, citrines, emeralds, sapphires, amethysts, diamonds, quartzes, pearls, amber, various garnets, jade, larimar, zircons, lapis lazuli, malachite, morganites and even a big chunk of amazonite and turquoise rolled out. Each one was either oblong or circular and either faceted or a cabochon. Everett and Kiet looked at each other, then back at the pile of gemstones on the floor, wondering what to do with it.

“Tell the site director”? Everett suggested.

Kiet shrugged. “Fuck would I even do with this anyway”?

He and the guards gathered the gemstones in a bag, and he took the amazonite chunk for himself as a keepsake.

-

Somewhere in the higher floors of the facility, a loud groan emanated from behind a deep red mahogany door with a black rug decorated with golden calligraphy writing.

“Just…one…more”… O5-1 grumbled, signing off on the last document and stuffing it in a file. “FINALLY! FUCKING FINALLY! Now all this can kiss my ass for the day”!

She slumped forwards on her desk and groaned louder, feeling her back ache from how long she had been hunched over it and feeling lucky that no one else could see her like this. Paperwork wasn’t something she minded that much, but it seemed the Foundation had a stupidly crazy amount of it and it made her head spin and her back and fingers ache just looking at how much more she needed to do for the week. Sighing, she picked up the blue rabbit-shaped clock from the corner of her desk – a cute little thing her wife had gotten her for her birthday – and checked the time.

8:30 a.m., and she had blown through two whole stacks of paperwork. She smiled inwardly at her own small victory. Now she could call it a day and-

O5-1?

Fuck.

“Yes, Evangeline”? she replied through the intercom, trying her level best not to sound tired.

“There are some more forms for you to fill up concerning…stuff. I didn’t really check it”, Evangeline explained, and O5-1 felt her blood pressure rise as she listened. “Do you want me to do it instead or”-

“No, bring it up here”, she hissed out between gritted teeth. “They need my signature, not yours”.

A small thump was heard at the door and she slogged off her chair, opened the door and pulled the stack of papers in with her foot, too fucking tired to get out and take it with her hands. Once she had safely relocated them onto her desk, she carefully undid her mantle clasps, shoved the fabric over her face and screamed into it.

“FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY OR SOMETHING”!

That done, she slumped back in her office chair and pulled out a little compact mirror she kept on her person, examining herself in it and almost recoiling at her appearance. She had dark circles around her eyes and her teeth looked twice as yellow than what was considered normal for an adult. In response, her stomach grumbled, and when she belched into her gloved fist, she could taste iron in her throat.

Damn, I’ve really been neglecting myself, have I? she thought, closing the compact mirror and leaning back in her chair. She half-expected someone to burst in with a new report for her, but she knew it wouldn’t be possible unless they literally kicked her office door down first, because it was locked. A shiver went down her spine, and she decided she needed an excuse to get out of her office immediately, so she checked her schedule to see if anything was on.

Of course, 682 is absent today, she grumbled internally. The indestructible reptile had told her that he was going to forage in the woods today, so he obviously wasn’t around right now. How could she have forgotten? Was the overwork already affecting her memory?

Sighing, O5-1 gave the espresso machine in the corner of her office a glance, debating whether she should make herself a cup and finish her work or take a break for now and get back to it later (or just burn it and pretend it never existed in the first place). She knew Evangeline would tell her off for the last idea though, so she chucked it out of her mind.

A notification popped up on her phone, and O5-1 tapped the white box on her phone’s screen twice, the action redirecting her to a WhatsApp page that belonged to Agent Ulgrin.

Or as he was called in her contacts, Agent Grumpy.

Pizza Friday, you coming down? was all he had sent, and she slammed her phone down and stretched out. Finally, an excuse.

With that, she folded her mantle and placed it on top of the stack of papers as a paperweight, then trudged out to go get some circular cheesy bread.

Chapter Text

By the time both Dara, Kiet and Kohsoom got to the cafeteria, Pizza Friday was in full swing. Researchers, guards, MTFs, D-Class and even some of the other employees were clustered around tables on benches, plates laden with pizza slices and red cups filled with soft drinks clutched in their hands. On the longer table backed against one of the walls stood cardboard boxes filled with pizza and various bottles of cordials, soft drinks, sports drinks and carbonated fruit juices. The smell of the warm cheese and wheat was tempting and Dara swallowed thickly in anticipation.

She and Kiet found a seat with Eun Byeol, Cain, Able, Lawrence (106), Iris (105), Logan and Gustav, who seemed to have gone from annoying each other to quietly feeding each other pizza. Able shivered noticeably at the sight of that and opted to change places with his brother, which seated him right next to Dara.

“Well well, look who’s shown up for the ball”, he mused, scratching her head gently.

“A pizza ball, you mean”, Dara replied, and the two laughed at her little joke.

Kiet got up after some time, and Dara followed him to the pizza table. They got in line with the rest of the personnel and soon returned with two plates heaped with triple meat and cheese pizza slices, as well as a cup of cola and a blue Gatorade each. When they returned, Eun Byeol too, had gotten herself a sizeable amount of the triple meat pizza and was gobbling the slices down like she hadn’t seen food in months.

“Please don’t tell me you took a whole pizza again”, Kiet sighed.

“Bleh, there’s a hundred more boxes left”, she replied, sticking out her tongue at him. “Besides, what’s the difference between me and Colossus here? That’s literally all he can eat whenever we have Pizza Fridays”!

Cain blushed hard at her comment. “You do know I cannot help it”.

“Just saying".

Kohsoom had joined her own squad, Mobile Task Force Zeta-12, a.k.a the Shepherds, who were seated at a separate table towards the back of the cafeteria. Jasper waved her over and she sat beside him.

“Where were you all this morning”? she asked.

“I was assigned to Harry’s (096) cell today”, Jasper admitted, then pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it to show Kohsoom a crayon drawing of a ginger cat eating some fish. “We did crayon drawings”.

“I braided Ae’s (811) hair”, Lula piped up.

“I played the piano for Eric (066)”, Qian muttered, half an olive pizza poking out of his mouth.

The rest of them weren’t short of interesting either. Leon had played chess with Allen (007) and lost; Melanie had been gifted a set of jewellery made out of crystallised sugar by Ms. Sweetie (2396); Azariah and one of the Pink Ladies (2386), Amaryllis, had replanted some flowers that had been uprooted by last night’s storm; Bradley and Isaac (1360) had spent the day at the library reading Asimov’s works; Kyla and Sigurrós (239) had fashioned charms out of hawthorn twigs; and Lexy and Abby (053) had mostly spent the morning napping.

Kohsoom gave her teammate an incredulous look. “What did you even do last night”?

“I drank too much yerba mate and stayed awake as a result”, Lexy yawned.

Kohsoom rolled her blue eyes and continued shovelling pizza into her mouth.

-

Elsewhere, Bub (131-A), Bi (131-B), Bew (131-C) and Belle (131-D) were daringly zipping around and between legs, avoiding incoming feet and almost bumping into walls and furniture. Ulgrin, carrying his riot helmet in one arm, grumbled a litany of curses as he avoided them the best he could, earning him a couple of dirty looks from some of the other researchers who, he guessed were mostly fond of and tolerated the company of the Eye Pods.

Well, they could go fuck themselves then, because he damn well didn’t.

Bub made little chirping noises as he rolled up to Ulgrin and begin rubbing itself against his leg, purring as he did. The agent tried to shake the teardrop-shaped SCP off to no avail.

“Get off”, he groused, pushing the SCP away with a startled little chirp just as O5-1 entered. He didn’t even spare her a glance, knowing fully well she wasn’t fond of wearing her mantle all the time, but the sight of her without the dark brown sheath of fabric about her shoulders caused a wave of murmuring to pass through the crowd, as if it was that much of a new sight. O5-1, for her part, didn’t care and immediately smiled as Bub rolled up to her, chirping for attention.

“Good morning, Bubsy”, she cooed, turning around to face the orange Eye Pod. “Aww, is Uncle Ulgrin being mean to you again? C’mere and lemme give you a good ole’ rubbin’”.

Ulgrin rolled his eyes as he left her to babytalk the Eye Pods and get his share of pizza. A few people stood in line to wait for their slices, but Ulgrin, realising how impatient and hungry he was, swiftly cut the line and flipped the bird at someone who gave him snap. A bald-headed researcher curled his upper lip in obvious dislike, but he didn’t care. Ulgrin quickly grabbed four slices of his choice, olive and cheese, and sauntered away with his plate, taking a bite out of the olive slice just as Bew and Belle came up to him, making ‘dwoooo’ sounds as they stopped before him, staring at him out of their unnaturally large blue eyes.

“Fuck off”, he snapped at the two. “If you don’t get out of my way right now”, he took a ravenous bite before continuing. “I’ll stomp on your ass”.

At that, it was O5-1’s turn to level a glare at him. “Ulgrin, seriously”?

“Its just sitting here”, the agent rasped out through a ravenous chomp. “Fuckin’ wit’ me too”.

A soft ‘bwoooo’ was all Bew had to say before nuzzling up to O5-1, who gently took the white Eye Pod into her arm before sitting down. Ulgrin joined her sometime later, seeing as the other tables were full. Once they sat down, the orange, yellow and red Eye Pods left to go find friendlier people to pet them, but Bew and later Josie stayed with O5-1 and Ulgrin.

“Put it down for a moment and eat, sheesh”, he grumbled. “You’re going to end up with a lot of problems if you keep playing with SCPs over actually eating”.

At that, O5-1 blew a raspberry at him. “Hey, fuck you, man. Its not my fault you had to be so rude to widdle Bewbs here”.

At that, he cringed physically. “Please never say that again”.

“Try me”, O5-1 challenged, and Ulgrin accepted…by somewhat-gently pushing a slice of pizza into her mouth.

“Fanks”, she purred, and Ulgrin once again cringed at how she almost sounded like the 131s with her mouth stuffed full of pizza. He begin to tuck into his own plate, then stopped as he noticed a familiar green-clad, yellow-clad and blue-clad figure heading their way.

“Heya, Agent Ulgrin”! Dara chirped, plonking on the bench opposite them and reaching out to scratch Josie on the head. “Heya, O5-1”!

“S’up”? O5-1 greeted the girl, still nuzzling Bew.

“Able and Eun Byeol got into a food fight and Cain is trying to break them up”, Kiet clarified, his yellow eyes narrowed as he glanced behind them. “We want no part in it”.

“Not when I have all this bacon with me”, Kohsoom replied, taking a huge bite out of a bacon and blue cheese pizza. “Ah, the Eye Pods came to join”.

“More like fuck with us”, Ulgrin muttered.

“Sourpuss”, Dara teased.

“Leave them be, You know how much they like it when someone gives them attention”, Kiet replied, biting into a slice covered in banana peppers and Emmental cheese.

Ulgrin rolled his eyes, but before he could protest, a loud rumbling noise could be heard from outside.

“Great, another storm”, Kohsoom muttered, mentally calculating how to best dry the laundry she had left outside to dry.

“No its not”, O5-1 replied, and before anyone could ask, they heard a deep booming voice asking.

“WHERE IS MY SWORD”!?

The cafeteria went dead silent at that moment, and even the Eye Pods stopped chittering as the atmosphere went from lively to tense.

Chapter Text

Dara stopped chewing, green eyes darting around the cafeteria. “‘Ey, no one told me the Big Flambo was visiting today”.

“Because he’s not supposed to”, Kohsoom replied, just as Shamshel shouted again.

“WHERE IS MY SWORD”!?

O5-1’s turquoise eyes went dull as she quietly put Bew down and got up. “Great, there goes Pizza Friday for all of us”.

She nodded in the direction of the twins, motioning for them to follow her. “Come on, you two. We’ll try to calm him down”.

“What’re we supposed to do”? Kohsoom asked.

“Gather your team and get ready to douse him with fire retardant when I say so”, was all O5-1 told her before she and the twins exited the cafeteria and headed for the blast doors.

Shamshel was rightfully terrifying on a good day when he was fulfilling his sentry duties or when he was called to help contain more powerful SCPs, or when he was called to help the Foundation tackle attacks from other GOI, but right now he might as well have just escaped from hell itself. As O5-1, Kiet and Dara exit the gate and out into the clearing, they narrowly dodged one fiery foot as it stomped down and was then lifted away, leaving a patch of scorched grass and earth where it had been placed among broken and burnt trees and trashed vehicles that had partially melted from the extreme heat. Shamshel’s wings were all spread out and fluffed up, betraying the rage he currently felt…

Except for one pair. The ones around his head, which were currently pressed tightly against his head like he was trying to stifle a headache.

Dara stopped short at that realisation. Wait, a headache?

“SHAMSHEL”! O5-1 shouted at the SCP, and he turned to glare at her (somewhat, it was hard to tell when he didn’t have visible eyes).

“What’s the meaning of this”!? she asked him, hands planted firmly on her hips as she glared up at him disapprovingly. “What’s gotten into you this time”!?

At that, he bent down and growled at her. “Where is my sword”?

“What do you mean ‘where is my sword’? Aren’t you always holding it”? O5-1 asked, beginning to climb him so she wouldn’t have to shout at him from the ground. “Don’t tell me you misplaced it again”.

As if to answer her question, Shamshel drew one leg back…

And neatly punted the woman away.

“O5-1”! Kiet and Dara shrieked as she went flying.

“Alright”! Dara spat, scampering up to their flaming angel friend. “You’re asking for it”!

With that, she climbed up his leg, and hopped onto his hip, then scrambled up his chest and finally hopped onto his shoulder. Shamshel stilled when he felt her there, perhaps sensing that she was a friend and trying to help, and he loosened one wing before facing her.

“Sword…my sword”… he rasped, pain colouring his tone as he forced the words out. Dara lay a comforting hand on his cheek as he continued. “Where is it…please…I need it back”…

“Its not with us, Shamshel”, Dara told him, toning her voice to a soft purr. “We’ll get it back, but none of us took it. You’ll need to look somewhere else”-

A spray of fire retardant foam cut off the rest of her litany, and she was thrown off his shoulder as he bucked up and growled. Mobile Task Force Zeta-12 was gathered on the ground beside him, armed with fire retardant foam guns.

Luckily for Dara, Shamshel caught her using his lowest pair of wings, but she practically jumped off them as soon as she landed, because…

“Goddamnit”, Kiet groused, pressing an icepack to her burnt forearm. “He’s out of control”!

“Way to go there, Mel”, Kohsoom grumbled, levelling a side-eye at her colleague.

“Hey! How was I supposed to know he wasn’t going to harm her”? the auburn woman shot back.

Shamshel reared up and roared again, this time agitated by the earlier spray of fire retardant. The rest of Zeta-12 had to back up as Shamshel turned on them next, both angel and humans exchanging blows via sprays of fire and retardant with each other, all the while keeping his wings wrapped tightly around his head to dull the blinding migraine-like pain that had re-emerged at full strength. Meanwhile, Kohsoom scurried over to her kids, who had been joined by Ulgrin.

“That attack with the fire retardant agitated him and he burnt her arm”, the guard explained briskly.

“Oh, frick off”, Dara hissed. “I’ve had worse wounds than this”.

“Worse or not, you still have to cool this first”, Kiet reminded her, then went to fetch a tube of aloe vera gel.

“He’s not calming down”, Dara noted, looking at Shamshel and Zeta-12 with concern. “I have to stop him”.

“With what? A busted arm”? Ulgrin asked her. “Let your mother’s team handle it. They’re not gonna kill him”.

But Dara wasn’t convinced.

“Hey, I don’t think he was alone”, she murmured, pointing to the direction of the trees.

“What…where”!? Kiet, Ulgrin and Kohsoom asked, looking away to see what Dara was pointing at.

And then Kiet realised what she’d done when he saw her running back to Shamshel.

“Crafty gal”, he muttered, stuffing the tube of gel into his pocket.

This time, Dara didn’t waste any time climbing up, using Shamshel’s wings like ladder rungs to quickly get onto his shoulder. The angel didn’t notice, angry at MTF Zeta-12’s assault on him so much that he didn’t notice the girl planting herself firmly on his shoulder and whispering something into his ear.

“Omnis amaritudo et ira et ira et clamor et calumnia tollantur a vobis cum omni malitia. Estote invicem benigni, misericordes, donantes invicem, sicut et Deus in Christo donavit vobis”, was what Kiet and Kohsoom, as well as the rest of Zeta-12, heard being recited on their earpieces as Shamshel stopped like someone had pressed the pause button on him, went rigid and immediately collapsed onto the ground, Dara jumping off him before he crashed into the grass.

“I don’t know what the hell you just said, but it worked”, Ulgrin breathed out as the rest of Zeta-12 and Kohsoom secured Shamshel down with ropes to restrain him.

“But what made him so angry”? Dara asked, holding out her burnt arm for Kiet to apply aloe vera gel. “He kept saying his sword was missing and that he had a headache. Does the last one have to do with his sword”?

“It does, in a way”, came the disgruntled voice of O5-1, and the four of them looked back to see her shuffling up to them, leaves and twigs clinging to her clothes and hair.

“What happened to you”? Kohsoom asked.

In response, she pointed at the now unconscious Shamshel. “Asshole punt me into a tree”.

Dragging a hand across her face roughly, she continued. “I’ll contact Site-0 and inform them about the situation. Kohsoom, you and your team regroup and await further orders”.

The blue-eyed woman nodded, heading back to her team, while O5-1 gathered the twins in her arms.

“You did great back there, even if you were a bit reckless”, she told Dara, who just blushed.

“I dunno. It just seemed like it would work so”… she tried to deflect the compliment, but words failed her and she just went back inside with her brother so they could decide on their next course of action.

Chapter Text

Tapping her earpiece, O5-1 contacted the director of Site-0 to inform him of the situation, and they discussed for a good long while before he agreed to send some priests over to keep an eye on Shamshel while they located his sword.

Some rooms were cleared out and made up to house the Site-0 priests for the duration of their stay. Meanwhile, the twins were in the medbay with their mother.

“What you did back there, Dara”, Kohsoom begin as the nurse wrapped her daughter’s burnt arm in gauze. “That was dangerous, You were lucky Shamshel knew you, or it would’ve ended badly for both of you”.

“C’mon, Ma. Someone had to do something”, Dara squeaked, looking aside to make sure she hadn’t lowered her arm before continuing. “Besides, he didn’t mean to hurt me. He was just scared, that’s it”.

“Scared or not, there’s a reason you let the pros deal with situations like that instead”, Kiet reminded her, yellow eyes glaring down at her as he stood up. “You have to remember, Dara, that they’re still dangerous. Yes, we grew up with them and all, but SCPs are still dangerous to whoever touches or tries to interact with them, and that warrants a lot of studying before we’re allowed to interact with them closely”.

At that, Dara levelled a boiling-hot glare at him. “Speak for yourself. If Shamshel was that dangerous, would he have bothered catching me in the first place? The Big Flambe knew I was falling and caught me regardless. I mean, yeah, he burnt me, but that was an accident! You do crazy things in the heat of the moment”.

“Heat of the moment or not, he was still dangerous”, Kiet retorted, then gestured to her arm. “At least you got off with only a first-degree burn. What? Are you going to wait for a fourth-degree burn before you realise the actual danger here”?

“Danger, my ass”! Dara spat at him as she leapt to her feet, making her brother back up somewhat. “It’s always danger with you! Eun Byeol gives me a new blouse and skirt, DANGER! Lawrence shows me how to fire one of his old-time shotguns, DANGER! CODE RED! Ae braids my hair for five fucking minutes, DANGER! AND I GET THROWN IN FOR PSCHYE EVALUATION”!

Kiet visibly tensed. “They’re all part of procedure when you”-

“When I what? Treat an SCP like a fucking person”? Dara growled, green eyes narrowed. “What’s next then? I so much as pass by a cell and I have to be quarantined because HEAVEN FORBID I JUST TAKE A STROLL DOWN THE CORRIDOR”!?

“Jesus Christ! Calm down”! Kiet snapped. “You’re blowing all this out of proportion. Its standard procedure for a reason, alright? Just because we’re immune doesn’t mean we’re invulnerable”.

At that point, he drew himself up to his full height and growled. “And don’t act like I’m the one who’s in the wrong here. Your understanding of SCPs is only because of all the research the scientists have done over the years. Research that you keep calling unethical and”-

“All the same, Kiet, you’re already taking the procedures too far”, Kohsoom butt in, and the twins turned to face their mother. “Procedure is procedure, but at this point, you’re taking your job out of a professional setting and letting it affect the relationships you have outside of it. If you keep this up, don’t be surprised if Dara keeps every relationship she has private”.

At that, Kiet stiffened. “Then what’s the difference between me and a D-Class”?

“No estamos aquí para juzgarlos nosotros mismos, pero cumplir estrictamente las reglas también tiene sus desventajas”, Kohsoom reminded him, then turned to Dara. “You did well today. Yes, it was dangerous, but you saved a lot of people doing what you did. I would say there are better ways to do it, but in the heat of the moment, anything goes, so I’ll let it slide this time”.

“I still argue that tranquillisers would’ve worked the same way”, Kiet replied.

“They would have stressed him out more, son”, Kohsoom explained. “Something you would be aware of if you didn’t cling so tightly to procedures all the time”.

“Look, outside of the lab, procedures don’t have to apply, alright”? Kohsoom reminded them both. “Let’s just leave it at that. Go do whatever you want to do now. One will call us down if she needs us”.

Dara waited for Kiet to leave the room, glancing down at her bandaged arm as she quietly mulled over his words. Part of her was feeling bad for shitting on his work, but she hated it when he kept speaking of the SCPs as if they were objects with no feelings, and even more when he kept insinuating that she wouldn’t understand just because she wasn’t in his or the researchers’ places. She felt bad about exploding on him just now, but the way he had just called Shamshel dangerous…

“Leave it be. Give your brother time to cool off, and then we’ll see if he’s willing to listen again”, Kohsoom reassured her daughter, then holstered her rifle. “Alright, I’m going to go join the rest of Zeta-12. What will you be doing”?

“I”… Dara faltered with her words for a bit, then got up slowly. “I just want to be alone for a while”.

With that, she left the medbay, scurrying down the corridor for a cell she hoped was empty now.

-

“Logan”?

As much as she almost felt silly knocking, especially when she knew she didn’t have to. Logan, somehow, could always sense whoever was coming and would leave his cell doors unlocked for them to walk in without having to knock first, yet she couldn’t help but feel like it was better to inform him rather than barge in while he was…maybe halfway through getting dressed or something.

“Qui est-ce”? he asked, poking his white beaked head out as his gaze fell on Dara. “Ah, it’s you, ma cherie”.

“Hey, Logan”, Dara greeted him, tucking one leg and both her arms behind her, unwilling to meet his gaze. “Can I come inside”?

With that, he stepped aside so she could pass, gesturing for her to step inside. “You’re welcome to come anytime, dear. You know you needn’t ask”.

She knew, of course, but that didn’t stop her from asking every time.

The inside of Logan’s containment chamber was cozy-looking, a stark contrast to the coldness and rigidity of the corridors she had passed through to get here. The lattice floor was brown, illuminated in a shade of amber by the electric hearth fire that crackled inside a white carved fireplace. A large circular mat in several shades of brown, maroon and tan lay under three wine-red seats – two singular couches and a loveseat set – while various oblong picture frames and mirrors hung on the dark brown walls. Logan gestured for Dara to take the left corner of the loveseat, wrapping her in a blanket as she did, for even with the fire burning, the evening was cold.

“What’s gotten you so worked up this time, love”? he asked her, handing her a mug of tea to drink as he sat himself beside her. “Your eyes are heavy with tears, and your lips are quivering. Did you fight with your brother again”?

This time, some tears trickled down Dara’s cheeks as she spoke. “Yes, we did”.

“What was it about”? Logan asked. “Do you want to talk about it”?

Dara shook her head. “No, I don’t”.

“Can I stay here for a while please”?

Logan nodded in acknowledgement. “Tell me if you’re hungry then. I’ll have them send a ration tray down for you as well”.

Dara nodded, quietly weeping her feelings into her tea as Logan hugged her close and waited for her to calm down.

-

“So this is where you went. I almost walked right past”.

Kiet looked up as Ulgrin made his way over to him and sat in the grass, grunting as he shifted to get comfortable with all his thick padding on. In front of them lay Shamshel’s giant figure which was currently being drizzled with holy water by a sextet of Site-0 priests amid the chanting of prayers.

“I asked them to remove the ropes”, Kiet replied dourly. “He’s not much of a threat anymore. Right now, he just needs pain relief”.

“They said anything about his sword yet”? Ulgrin asked.

“Not yet”, Kiet replied. “O5-1 is still discussing with the Site-0 director. She’s asking him for security footage of the area near the gate, but so far they haven’t gotten anything yet”.

“Why”? Ulgrin asked. “Was the footage corrupted”?

Kiet shrugged.

“I…sort of heard that argument with your sister awhile ago”, Ulgrin mused. “You okay”?

Kiet shrugged again.

“You had the ropes removed because of what she said, didn’t you”? Ulgrin asked.

“Maybe”, was all the boy had in reply.

“You wanna talk about it”? Ulgrin asked.

Kiet shook his head. “Not right now”.

“Alright, c’mere then”, Ulgrin replied, gesturing for Kiet to inch closer. The boy did so and the guard hugged him close as they listened to the steady chanting of the priests and the quiet hissing of the holy water hitting Shamshel’s flaming body.

Chapter Text

Just as Kiet and Ulgrin made to walk back inside, they heard rustling in the distance, and the yellow-clad boy stopped, Ulgrin’s arm being tugged along when he didn’t stop at the same time.

“What gives”? he asked, then saw what Kiet was looking at. “The fuck”…

Without hesitation, he unhooked his rifle and pointed it at the rustling bushes just as a gravelly voice asked indignantly “what the living fuck, Ulgrin”?

The guard still kept his rifle aimed at him. “More like, what the fuck, 682? What’re you doing outside”?

“Because unlike some people, I’m not interested in looking at walls of dry paste-rock all day”, 682 grumbled, slowly crawling out of the bushes so he could drop a small green bundle in Kiet’s hand. “Found something for you, along with something else”.

Kiet pocketed the bundle as 682 turned to see a prone Shamshel. “What did I miss”?

“Long story short, someone took Shamshel’s sword, and now he’s got intense headaches because of it”, Ulgrin explained, then holstered his rifle. “Something wrong”?

682 sniffed. “Well, I was hoping for some payback after he burnt my tail off last week, just not…well, not to this extent”.

Ulgrin actually smirked under his riot helmet. “Well hell, this is surprising coming from you”.

“Don’t get used to it. I’m only helping since he takes care of the Chaos Insurgency for us”, 682 snapped, then adjusted the length of his limbs so he could sit upright. “Which is why I’m going to help right now”.

“How”? Kiet asked, and 682 told him.

Before the crocodile-sized reptile could react afterwards, however, Kiet immediately shrunk him to medium plushy size and hauled him away protesting into the facility to find Dara, Ulgrin trailing behind them.

-

“I’m going to be honest about this, ma’am”, Kohsoom begin, her blue eyes glaring at the screen as if it had just flipped her the bird. “The Chaos Insurgency? Really”?

O5-1 shrugged under her mantle. “That’s what you saw in the footage, yes”.

The video that had played earlier had been slightly grainy due to it having been corrupted earlier, but the hackers on Site-0 had salvaged what they could and sent it to Site-16 to be reviewed, and what the rest of Zeta-12 watched raised more questions than answered them.

The footage had showed Shamshel sleeping near the gate, one fiery hand tucked under his head and his sword placed beside him within arm’s reach. A few minutes later, the footage showed a team of Chaos Insurgency operatives grabbing ahold of the sword, making it shrink down to a scale fit for a human or smaller being to hold, and placing it in a white box before leaving.

And all the while, Shamshel was deeply asleep.

Azariah gawked at the screen. “He didn’t wake up? Like, at all”?

“Its possible that he was tranquillised beforehand, whether on the sly or directly”, O5-1 replied, then pulled her laptop back.

“Do we know where to go to find them then”? Kohsoom asked. “Or should we go to Site-0 first”?

“There’s no need. The director handed all the evidence they found to us. Its being analysed as we speak”, O5-1 replied, then started typing. “But the problem now is”-

“We know where to find them”, a small but brisk voice answered from the doorway, and the MTF and O5-1 looked up to see Dara and Kiet there, the former holding a comically small-sized 682 in her arms not unlike a very weird-looking cat or plushy.

“I will fucking eat you both for this”, the reptile growled as they padded in, and then he shouted. “QUIT LAUGHING, BITCH! THIS ISN’T FUNNY”!

“I’m…so sorry”… O5-1 wheezed, hunched over her desk from laughing so hard, one gloved hand wrapped around her stomach and the other used to brace her forehead so it didn’t bruise from being pressed into the hard wooden surface of her desk as she tried to calm down.

Unfortunately, that had triggered a chain reaction in Zeta-12 and they all doubled over sniggering as well, though not to O5-1’s extent.

“Yeah, whatever, laugh it off”, 682 growled under his breath, then nudged Dara gently with his tail. “Go on, tell her”.

“682 just so happened to overhear the Chaos Insurgency operatives who stole Shamshel’s sword, but couldn’t prevent them due to being forbidden to attack humans without permission”, Dara explained, putting the indestructible reptile down so he could scuttle away. “He did, however, manage to record their words discreetly before they left the scene”.

With that, Kiet handed O5-1 a slim recording pen and she held it in her open palm, clicking it to turn it on. The voice on the recording was muffled and laced with static, but still audible.

Wrap this thing up good and load it up! Marshall, Carter and Dark are expecting this and it’s a long flight from here to Toledo!

The recording ended, and there sat a pregnant pause of about half an hour before Bradley spoke up.

“What do MC&D want with the sword”? he asked, and O5-1 shrugged.

“God knows, but we’re going to Toledo anyway. If that’s where they’re taking it, then we’ll have to intercept them before its sold off”, she explained, then stood up from her desk. “Alright. Zeta-12, get ready to leave for Toledo by 13:00. Dara, Kiet, make sure you pack light, because this is going to be a long mission”.

The twins and the Mobile Task Force nodded in agreement, then left to prepare for the journey.

-

Just outside the woods surrounding Site-16, a deer trotted about, grazing on emerald green grass and grainy white lichen that clung to rocks and any dead pieces of wood lying around. As it approached one log, it was stopped by a figure clad entirely in black. The figure raised a hand to the deer and it sniffed it for awhile before allowing itself to be pet. Some sunlight peeked through the trees and landed on the figure, casting a purple sheen over their black attire.

As they kept their violet eyes on the facility, they looked down at the device they held in one hand, which currently vibrated as voices echoed from it,

Dara! Stop taking my socks again!

I’m not taking your socks! You’re taking mine!

Make it snappy, you two! We’ve only got five minutes left!

The figure listened intently, looking amused as they continued until the device fell silent. It was two way, operated via a wireless connection that had unlimited range, and would last for about 3 hours before cutting off to prevent it from being traced. For most, this would be frustrating.

But for the mysterious figure, there was only a sparkle in their violet eyes as they pocketed the device and sighed.

“Interesting”.

Chapter Text

The squad boarded the next flight to Toledo just after 13:00, mainly because they had to double check all their equipment and also because Lula had accidentally brought a metallic [REDACTED BY ORDER OF THE O5 COUNCIL] along and had to put it aside amid blushing furiously before it was cleared for her to bring along.

Once everyone was settled in and the FASTEN YOUR SEATBELTS light was turned off, they all decided to pass the time doing different things. Lexy left to go sleep next to Kyla, while Lula hopped into the empty seat and pulled out her tablet to watch animal documentaries with Melanie. The rest of Zeta-12 alternated between chatting, playing games on their phones or sleeping. O5-1, who easily got nauseous while travelling, had her own system for long flights or drives: She gulped down two sleeping pills with some vodka. The effect was like being clubbed.

“Even if there’s a terrorist on board with a bomb, don’t wake me”, she instructed the twins before curling up like a shrimp in her seat and pulling the provided blanket up to her forehead.

Once they were sure she wouldn’t wake up, Dara pulled out her green rubber-lined tablet and read aloud from it. “Toledo’s main economy is metalworking, with emphasis on the manufacture of bladed weapons like swords, razor blades and even knives. The manufacture of swords in Toledo goes back to Roman times, but it was under Moorish rule and during the Reconquista that Toledo and its guild of swordsmiths played a key role”.

“The Romans made the best use of Toledo steel as they did with Damascene steel, and in the 15^th and 17^th centuries, the region’s swordsmithing industry became so popular that their alloy was regarded as the best in Europe”, Kiet added, using one hand to hold the screen as he looked over. “Most of them are tourist collectibles, though, so what’s Marshall, Carter and Dark’s deal”?

“Beats me, mijo. Rich people are just weird like that”, Kohsoom replied. “I’ve met people who collect weird things, and depending on your luck, they can either be very interesting people, or just the most deranged psychos you’ve ever met”.

“Clarify the psycho part”? Kiet asked.

“Well, they’ll go to any lengths to get ahold of something they consider interesting or unique, and sometimes”… she trailed off there, but then whispered. “They do depraved things. Very depraved things”.

“Have you ever gone that far, Mama”? Dara asked. “You like collecting coins, don’t you”?

“I’m possessive of it, of course, but not enough to go ham on anyone who touches it”, Kohsoom clarified. “But others? We can never predict them, unfortunately”.

They landed soon enough, and they all got out of the plane, some a little more unsteady from just waking up. Dara got up to help her mother with the hand luggage they had brought along, while Kiet grabbed the edge of the blanket O5-1 was buried under and roughly yanked it off her.

“Wuzzamadder”? she yawned, face pale from grogginess.

“We landed. Get up”, he responded, deadpan.

Once they were all out and safely at the entrance to the Toledo base, O5-1 instructed them to settle down first before they commenced with their mission. Kohsoom followed her kids to their rooms first and helped them unpack their clothes and toiletries before retreating to hers and doing the same thing. Once they had finished, Dara flopped on her bed and lay there, spreadeagled, while Kiet braced his side against some pillows and begin typing on his tablet.

“Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy”?! she groaned, feeling her back ache slightly as the tension eased out of her bones.

“Still not over it yet”? Kiet asked.

“Why do I always get the muffies? I HATE THE MUFFIES”! Dara pouted, rolling back and forth on her bed and tangling herself in the blanket as a result. When she realised this, she glared down at her wrapped up form for a bit, then extricated herself from the blanket with a litany of Spanish and Thai curses and left their room.

The Toledo base wasn’t exactly huge, just big enough to house only the MTFs and their commanders who came and went. Two local guards passed by and greeted her as she did, to which she returned their greetings and went to find O5-1.

-

The woman in question was also fairly tired, and no sooner had she laid down did Dara enter and plant herself just beside her on the bed. The woman chuckled weakly, raising one metallic hand to stroke her.

“I can’t even get a break from you for a moment, can I”? she asked teasingly.

“No, a menos que nos dejes ahora mismo, no”, Dara replied, then tilted her face into O5-1’s outstretched hand as she proceeded with what she wanted to ask her. “Do you think anyone will buy the sword”?

“I honestly doubt it. It sets whatever isn’t asbestos or something equally fireproof alight, and holding it, unless Shamshel himself grants the user permission, is downright impossible”, O5-1 explained, still petting Dara. “But at the same time, the Chaos Insurgency’s involvement is suspicious”.

“Why so”? Dara asked.

“Because they want weapons, not profit, ma chérie”, O5-1 replied, pulling a comb from her pocket and running it through Dara’s coal-black hair. “The Chaos Insurgency could care less about profit. Weaponry? Yes, that’s what they’re after, and Shamshel’s sword would make a powerful one”.

“But its not that, is it”? Dara asked, shaking her hair as it was comb. “Marshall, Carter and Dark are in the picture now, so now they want the sword too”.

“MC&D could’ve just hired the Chaos Insurgency to steal the sword as well, but whether they were fully aware of their motives or not is yet to be known”, O5-1 explained, then pulled the blanket over herself. “I’m going to try and sleep off some of this jet lag before we get yeet out into the field. Wanna join me”?

The girl accepted, and snuggled under the covers with the O5 member before either of them could change their minds.

Chapter Text

Dara slept longer than expected, so much that when she woke up, the darkness of the room puzzled her.

“Ah, finally, you’re awake”, O5-1 mused, and Dara turned to face where she was standing, pulling on a black halterneck top. “You slept pretty long. Were you tired”?

“I got the muffies again”, Dara groused, rolling off the bed and sitting up. “What are we doing next”?

“We’re going on a stakeout”, O5-1 replied. “Put on something dark, and be ready to fight if you need to”.

Dara acknowledged her instructions with a nod, then left the room to get her mother and brother.

-

She padded into their shared room just as Kiet finished pulling on a black jacket and pants, his hair ruffled from pulling the former on.

“What took you so long”? he asked, swiping his hair back down with his hand. “I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer”.

“Sorry, I…fell asleep”, Dara yawned, then retrieved her own issued black clothing and put it on. “Where’s Ma”?

“She’s with the rest of the squad, discussing who’s going to be stationed where tonight”, Kiet explained. “Did One tell you anything”?

“No, she didn’t”, Dara answered brusquely, the answer coming out shorter than intended. Kiet declined to ask her anything else, guessing that she was still dazed from the long flight and from just waking up. The twins zipped up their jackets and left to join Zeta-12.

The rest of the Mobile Task Force was gathered just outside the facility with O5-1, going over what the plan was. The moment the kids padded up, however, Bradley immediately blocked them with his rifle.

“Nuh-uh, this is the big person’s zone”, he teased, nudging Dara with the tip of his rifle. In response, she swat it hard enough to send it flying to the ground.

“Okay, point taken, come on in”, he accepted, seemingly sensing the girl wasn’t in the mood for ribbing as O5-1 explained the plan.

“I sent some scouts out before we left to gather intel. We’ll meet them at the agreed rendezvous point and plan from there”, she explained, then pulled out a spare work tablet she had brought along. “A few of them sent me whatever we needed to know at the moment”.

“Which is”? Melanie asked.

“That Marshall, Carter and Dark Ltd are holding an auction tomorrow morning to decide who will be buying an unknown product they plan to sell”, O5-1 read from the tablet, turquoise eyes dilated from the blue light exposure. “We’ll be spying on the Chaos Insurgency in the meantime, to see how Shamshel’s sword ties into all this”.

“Assuming they plan to sell the sword, what does the CI get out of all this”? Kohsoom asked.

“That’s what we need to find out, won’t we, Mae”? Kiet asked.

“…doesn’t look like we have any other option”, Kohsoom replied nervously. “Especially if O5-1’s plan doesn’t work”.

-

While the MTF was discussing how to best proceed with their plan, some of the Chaos Insurgency were getting restless as evening and then night approached.

Imogen shifted on her thickly-booted feet restlessly, the tip of her rifle cutting into the fabric and now flesh on her arm as she waited for Mordecai and his team to get back from their little jaunt in town. The director had given them some time off to rest while they awaited further instructions, and Mordecai had immediately taken it and decided to go get absolutely wrecked with booze so cheap it smelled like paint thinner. Her shift had ended hours ago, but she still decided to push on for another few hours, hopefully to intercept a most-likely so-drunk-off-his-butt Mordecai before he got into any trouble with their boss.

Grumbling, she checked her watch, a goofy Batman-themed glow-in-the-dark one that had been a present from her husband, who was likely waiting for her at home huddled under a number of plush blankets and stuffed animals. Imogen briefly let her mind wander to the small-bodied man and how he made a good deal of fuss about her everytime she came home from work, and for a moment she wondered if he too, thought of her as small and fragile like he was.

Then the crunch of tyres on gravel snapped her out of her thoughts, and she turned to face the source of the sound with a look that could’ve smoked rubber.

If Mordecai hadn’t been drunk the last time he got his hands on alcohol, this time he was absolutely plastered, his eyes mostly being sleepy red blood vessels at this point and his cyan-streaked hair sticking out in odd angles. He drunkenly hopped out of the truck, being supported by one of his thankfully sober mates as he greeted her.

“G’day, Imogen”, he slurred, almost twisting his feet as he struggled to walk up to her. He reached a hand out in a gesture she didn’t know the intention of, but nonetheless swat it away all the same.

“Keep your grubby mitts to yourself until you’re sober”, she grunted, cocking her rifle to drive her point across. “Akira, take him inside and get some water in him or something. Just make sure the boss doesn’t see him like this”.

The coal-haired operative nodded, quietly supporting his drunk friend inside, while Imogen padded away to text her better half for a while, secretly hoping he was up for a little workout session of their own when she got back home.

Chapter Text

Kohsoom readjusted her dress – a piece of glittery tiffany blue chiffon that went down to her heels and had slits that reached up to her thighs – as she gazed upon the crowd in the museum where the auction was being held by Marshall, Carter and Dark Ltd.

O5-1 had thrifted the dress at short notice and given it to her, along with a midnight blue domino mask and matching dress sandals that revealed the scarring on her strong walker’s feet. She turned away for a while to see where Lula and Jasper were, and found them at the buffet table.

“They actually have a chocolate fountain this time”? the red-haired woman mused, dipping a skewered strawberry into the brown sweet-smelling liquid and popping it into her mouth. “And here I thought they were bullshitting with the invite”.

“Clearly they have the money to splurge this time around”, Jasper murmured, his voice laced with cognac. “How’re you holding up, Kohsoom”?

“Not well”, was all she had to say in reply as she inched away from the buffet and sat down on one of the provided benches, her vivid blue eyes focused on the object that was about to be sold, currently hidden under a heavy black drape. She clutched her glass of pinot grigio in her left hand and swirled the contents around idly, wondering what the fuss was even about for this object. The rest of the guests were clearly wealthier than her, bordering on millionaire and billionaire status, and Kohsoom felt like a pauper among all of them. Well, pauper was too harsh. Outcast was more fitting, for she had nothing in common with all of these people, who had been born into wealth and had lived wealthy all their lives. Kohsoom wanted to talk about things that were common, except that they were not common among this lot and she would likely be laughed at for it, so she settled for just playing with her wine glass and keeping to herself.

Just as she was about to take a sip out of it, she felt a gloved hand rest on her shoulder and a gentle baritone voice ask “is this bench taken”?

Startled, she bent forward as she choked on her pinot grigio, coughing into her velvet-gloved hands and turning to see who was behind it. The ‘who’ in question was a man who looked roughly a decade younger than her, with glossy black hair and eyes the colour of polished amber. His cheeks were flushed, probably from drinking too much fermented red grape juice, but he was steady enough on his feet that Kohsoom wasn’t too anxious about him attacking her in a drunken stupor.

“No, I’m the only one here”, she replied, scooching over so he could sit down. His tux wasn’t black, but rather a deep eggplant purple speckled with blue glitter. The lapels of his blazer were gold, and he wore a green dress shirt with a metallic light blue tie and gold lame shoes.

“Are you alone”? he asked.

“No, two of my friends are over there”, Kohsoom replied, jerking a velvet-covered thumb over her shoulder, then turning around to see Lula and Jasper chatting with a woman clad head to toe in glittery black silk, holding a glass of cabernet in one hand that already had a blood-red lipstick stain on one side.

“That’s my wife, Eleanor”, the man replied, casting a glance at the black-clad woman. “Seems she and your friends found some common ground”.

“Define ‘common ground’”, Kohsoom told him.

“Cats”, he replied simply.

Kohsoom choked on her drink a second time. “You’re bluffing”.

“Eleanor and I have three cats, and they’re little bitches”, the man replied, calmly reaching over to pat her back. “They’re all girls”.

“I…please, what exactly did such fine ladies do to earn the title of ‘bitches’”? Kohsoom asked, smothering a laugh behind her hand.

“Everything. Every – fucking – thing”, the man laughed, laughing as he explained. “They knock stuff off shelves, jump on hanging plants, chew on the plants we have on the ground…and then they have the audacity to be picky about their food later, like, yes, Kendra, you’re only having tuna tonight, because you uprooted our snakeplants for the 50^th time in a row”.

This time, Kohsoom barked a laugh and set her wine glass down, deciding she didn’t want to drink anymore. “Oh God, please, continue. I want to hear more from you, Mister”.

“Phillip Pierce. Just call me Phillip”, the man replied in a voice that could warm coffee. “And you are”?

“Kohsoom Cortez”, she replied, deciding maybe she had found common ground with someone. “Want to talk more about our fellow purring friends”?

“Sure, why not”? Phillip replied as they dissolved into their own conversation.

-

“Are we in position”? Lexy asked.

“Yep”, Qian replied, then nudged Kiet, who was sitting beside him. “You doing alright”?

“Physically? Yes. Mentally? No, not in any way”, Kiet breathed out.

“Why”? Melanie asked him.

“Well, let’s just say you’re not the one who sent your sister inside to try and negotiate with a bunch of trigger-happy weapon makers”, Kiet muttered, and Kyla hugged him close.

“Look, have a little faith in your sister, alright”? she assured him. “O5-1 wouldn’t blindly pick someone for a dangerous mission. She knows Dara can appeal to Delta Command’s feelings”.

“Assuming they decide to answer her at all”, Qian grumbled, mustard-streaked braid swaying in the cool night wind. “They might as well as show her and O5-1 the door and call it a day”.

“Gee, thanks for the fucking reassurance”, Kiet grumbled, then looked down at the viewscreen connected to the Spyderbot currently residing in Dara’s hair. “Well, at least she got past the guards”.

“Now what”? Kyla asked.

“Now we hope this works”, Qian replied as they watched the screen.

-

“Why are we doing this again”? Dara asked.

“So we can claim we tried to reason with them first”, O5-1 whispered, hoping none of the other operatives heard them. Luckily, this being a temporary base for the Chaos Insurgency as well, many of the operatives were anywhere but in the hallways.

“Storming one of their bases would’ve been easier”, Dara mused. “Isn’t that what we usually do”?

“If we know they’re holding an SCP captive? Yes”, O5-1 clarified. “But now we don’t, so it’d be a waste of resources if the raid turns out to be futile”.

They eventually reached a large iron door locked with a set of latches that looked like an old-fashioned zipper crossed with hook-and-eye clasps. The operative who had followed them as a guide input a code into the keypad at the very bottom of the latches and each one turned and slammed open like dozens of peanuts being dropped on a metal plate. The noise was deafening and for a moment, Dara shrank under O5-1’s mantle and listened for anyone complaining about or rushing towards the sound, but all that could be heard was the steady slamming of the latches.

“Geez, this is loud enough to wake the dead”, O5-1 mused aloud. “I’m surprised no one’s complaining about the sound much”.

“Everyone else sleeps in a building separate from this one, ma’am”, the operative replied. “They wouldn’t hear anything even if a bomb went off in here”.

“Even a bomb”? Dara asked.

“Yes. I can demonstrate if you want”, the operative replied, to which O5-1 immediately pushed his hand away from his belt.

“Let’s not do that right now. I still love my eardrums”, she answered briskly.

The last latch slammed against the door, and the iron slabs slid open to reveal the official meeting room of the Delta Command. The operative gestured for them to enter, telling them he would wait outside, and the door slid shut as they entered and looked up at the six people in the room.

“Delta Command”, O5-1 greeted them.

“Save the formalities, One”, the first member, a maple-haired woman with piercing green eyes, gusted out. “What is it you wanted to ask us”?

“One of our SCPs had an item of theirs stolen by your operatives”, O5-1 begin, turquoise eyes boring into those of the Delta Command member who had spoken to her. “Explain”.

“Pray tell, what this item is”? the second member, a man with spiky frosted-blond hair and stone-grey eyes asked.

“The sword of the Gate Guardian, Shamshel”, O5-1 replied. “As you already know, the sword is tied to his life-force, and if taken from him without permission, it will cause him great harm”.

“And our operatives somehow stole it”? the third member, who had red hair and pink eyes, asked. “You’re bluffing”.

“Suppose I pull up the security footage and show it to you right now”? O5-1 asked them.

“No need, I’ve already seen it”, the first member cut in before anymore tension could bleed into the discussion. “And I interrogated the operatives involved as well”.

“What did they say”? O5-1 asked.

“None of your business”, the fourth member, an elderly man with greying hair and fierce brown eyes, replied.

“The information is needed”- O5-1 begin, but the first member cut her off.

“What happens in the Chaos Insurgency stays here for the safety of our operatives”, she explained sternly, then levelled a glare at O5-1. “So unless you have someone to vouch for you on their safety, this will be the end of our talk. Good day, O5”-

“WAIT”! Dara shouted from under O5-1’s mantle, and the six members of the Delta Command turned to face her as she slipped out from under the dark brown fabric and looked up at them. “Hold on, don’t you think it’d be safer if we knew what actually happened”?

The fourth member made to tell them both to get lost, but the fifth and sixth members stopped him and the latter gestured towards Dara. “Speak”.

“I know we don’t get along most of the time…which is all the time, of course, but I think you’d agree that even Marshall, Carter and Dark Ltd aren’t the kind of people you want to work with, right”? Dara asked, and the room suddenly became pindrop silent.

“Marshall, Carter and Dark Ltd”? the first member repeated, then leaned forward. “Did I hear that right? Our operatives were aligning with that scum”?

“Evidently, yes”, Dara replied. “One of our SCPs overheard your operatives mentioning bringing the sword to them”.

The first member slammed her fist down and quickly grabbed a pen from her breast pocket. “Then this changes everything”!

Pulling out a sheet of paper, she quickly wrote down something and then dropped it, letting Dara catch ahold of it. “The operatives we questioned told us they were being blackmailed, and each one contained this single line in the sender’s part”.

Dara and O5-1 looked at the paper and saw a line of numbers written on it. Just as the realisation sunk in, they got a call.

“Ma”? Dara picked it up, wanting to ask her mother what had happened, but before she could say anything, Kohsoom’s panicked voice echoed through the receiver.

“We have to regroup somewhere safe, now”!

Chapter Text

An hour earlier…

“Five bucks says the thing over there is the lamest thing in existence ever”, Phillip mused, nudging Kohsoom’s bare shoulder with his covered one.

“Five złotys says it’s so fucking cool, these silk-covered debutantes are willing to sell a femur for it”, she countered.

“Złotys”? Phillip asked. “Wait, are you Polish”?

“By nationality now? Yes”, Kohsoom mused, lapping at her pinot grigio now. “I’m Thai and Spanish, but I moved from Tlaxcala to Chiang Mai first, then moved to Szczecin later when I started my job”.

“Hell of a journey”, Phillip replied.

“Not a journey I enjoyed though”, Kohsoom murmured as she observed the object for sale being fiddled with. “So it’s a machine then”?

“Most likely”, Phillip replied, taking a sip out of his now-warm pinot noir, his furrowed brows giving away his displeasure. “Some kind of anti…something, whatever. Don’t really care”.

“Why not? You didn’t come to buy it”? Kohsoom asked.

“Not quite. Some friends of ours egged us to go by saying they had free wine here”, he replied, swirling the contents of his goblet idly. “Can’t say they were wrong on that part though – too noisy for you”?

“What do you mean”? Kohsoom asked.

“You heard me. Are you alright”? Phillip asked, draining his goblet and placing on the tray of a passing waiter who was collecting all the used glasses and dishware. “You look like you’re either going to bolt or punch the closest person in the face”.

“I”… Kohsoom made to reply, then shut her mouth, realising he was right. “Si, I…I don’t do well with crowds. Let’s go outside”.

“Sure”, Phillip replied, and with brief gestures of indication towards their respective companions, they left the hall.

The outside air was warm for an early autumn, and Kohsoom shrugged her hair off her shoulders to cool them. Phillip too, loosened his tie and popped the first two buttons of his dress shirt open, letting out a contented sigh as he did.

“Finally, I was dying in there”, he mused, looking her over. “Feel better now”?

“Chı̀ c̄hạn thả”, Kohsoom murmured, feeling the anxiety drain out of her. “Crowds aren’t exactly my thing”.

“They damn well aren’t”, a low contralto replied. Kohsoom and Phillip looked around for the source of the voice, and soon their eyes landed on a short figure shrouded entirely in black fabric, with only the violet hue of their eyes visible.

“Who are you”? Kohsoom asked, her voice low and laced with caution. Phillip visibly tensed beside her.

“No one important”, the figure replied, their voice sounding breathy, almost as if it were the wind speaking. “But I come with a warning for the two of you”.

“That being”? Phillip asked, putting himself between the two of them in case the figure tried anything. An unnecessary move in Kohsoom’s opinion, even if she did appreciate the gesture. If she was unable to protect herself, there was no way she would’ve been part of a Mobile Task Force to begin with.

“Tonight, this place will go from dim to bright; tomorrow, one will hang between the land of the living and spirits; overmorrow, green paper will be exchanged for balls of fire”, was all the figure uttered, before the sound of an explosion made them all turn around.

Kohsoom found herself speaking into her comm unit before she had even turned around.

-

“Ma”!? Dara tried her own comm unit, but only static greeted her.

“Kohsoom? Lula? Jasper”!? O5-1 tried hers, but it too was in vain and she growled. “Putain! Somebody pick up”!

“Dara, what’s going on”? Kiet asked, his voice crackling like discarded foil on the earpiece’s audio.

“The venue where the auction was being held blew up”, was all Dara could utter through the comm, fear overtaking her as she bolted down the corridor, O5-1’s yells for her to wait unheeded.

Grabbing a spare bomber jacket from a nearby rack, she darted off into the night, adrenaline fueling her as she navigated the dimly-lit roads.

-

By the time Dara got to the venue, it was bedlam, with mildly injured and critically wounded guests being shuffled away into ambulances and a few unlucky enough to be caught too close to the blast radius being hauled away in body bags. Dara averted her gaze as best as possible and went to look for her mother.

She finally found her with a man she did not recognise, but who’s clothing was covered in soot and blood stains and who’s eyes were alight with panic. The moment the blue-clad woman heard her coming, she got up and hugged her close.

“Are you alright”? Kohsoom asked her daughter.

Flashing anger from green eyes that seemed to glow in the dark met her gaze. “Are you alright!? You’re the one who nearly got blown up”!

“I survived thanks to Mr. Pierce here”, Kohsoom replied, nudging the shellshocked man lightly. “He will need a moment to recover though”.

“Where are Jasper and Lula”? Dara asked.

“Being treated by paramedics”, Kohsoom nodded in the direction of the two, who were having their wounds tended to. “Have you and O5-1 been able to glean anything”?

Dara was about to explain, but two other voices stopped her before she could respond.

“The hell, Dara”!? Kiet gasped, embracing her as he caught his breath. “Give us some warning next time”!

“Where’s everyone else”? O5-1 asked Kohsoom.

The woman jerked her thumb behind her. “Paramedics are tending to them. I have something to tell you”.

“What is it”? Dara asked.

“We must get somewhere safe and then I will tell you three”, Kohsoom replied. She got up as Eleanor called for Phillip, then left with her boss and children. “And Phillip”?

“Yeah”? the man replied.

“This stays between us”, Kohsoom reminded him, then disappeared into the darkness.

-

“They were blackmailed”? she asked aloud.

The four of them had regrouped with Lula and Jasper at a nearby hospital, and O5-1 had sent the twins off to wait in the lobby. Lexy and Qian had joined them as well, the latter casually munching on some string cheese he had packed along.

O5-1 nodded as she handed her a roll of bandages. “Delta-1 managed to replicate the evidence they received. Whether she’s telling the truth or not is yet to be determined”.

“You don’t trust them”, Kohsoom mused.

“Replicating evidence isn’t exactly a sign I can trust someone”, O5-1 replied. “I just left because I was worried this little creature would get hit by a car”.

“That is her, alright”, Kohsoom replied nonchalantly, rolling her eyes at the mention of her daughter’s earlier impulsiveness. “So what happens next”?

“Well, the plan got botched when you warned us, so we’re kinda back to square one”? Qian asked.

O5-1 shook her head. “We have our not-evidence from the Chaos Insurgency and you said someone warned you earlier, Kohsoom”?

“Yes, and we don’t have much time”, Kohsoom replied, standing up and dusting herself off. “I was warned that someone’s life would be hanging in the balance tomorrow”-

A shout from one of the nurses cut her off, and the four turned to see a patient being wheeled away in a rush. Kohsoom caught the sight of both burns and shrapnel wounds on him,

She turned to O5-1, handing her the hidden recording pen she kept on her person to listen to what the stranger had told her and Phillip earlier.

O5-1’s eyes glowed for a moment as she processed the information from the pen, then shoved it back into Kohsoom’s lap and dashed after the patient on the gurney.

Chapter Text

O5-1 waited for the doctors and nurses to leave before she crept into the room, disabling the security cameras with her technopathy.

In normal circumstances, she would leave them on, both because their footage was grainy and stuff could be explained away as poor video quality, and because the evidence that could be gathered regardless was important, but whenever she used her technopathic powers outside of SCP territory, she was forced to be secretive about it, hence having to turn off the security cameras lest she be seen using her technopathy and it became a huge issue to erase from the media at large. Sure, the Foundation’s webtrawlers were efficient, but even they had limits to how far they could search through the net before having to rest.

Either way…

Stealing the patient’s phone from his nightstand, O5-1 quietly searched through it, finding out the man’s identity. He was George Moriarty and the guy was apparently a frequent organiser of auctions, including the latest one that had been organised tonight. He had been socialising with guests somewhere private when the bomb had gone off.

O5-1 looked at the patient, then back at his phone, a few times before she breathed out a long sigh. He was in no state to talk, and waiting wasn’t an option.

So that left her with the only available choice…

“We really can’t trace his contacts or something”? came a familiar voice from the doorway, and O5-1 looked back to see Kiet standing there, gaze questioning.

“We don’t have a choice this time”, O5-1 answered, feeling her hands warm up slowly as she prepared to use her powers. “Tracking them down, even with our best hackers, will take three days at best, and if what that person said is true, then we don’t have much time”.

Kiet dipped his head in understanding. “Just don’t kill yourself”.

O5-1 just gave him a side-eye, but she understood his worry either way.

Inhaling deeply, she let her powers flare to life and got to work.

-

“Don’t keep doing that to your hair, Dara”, Kohsoom chided her daughter, who was tousling her hair for the umpteenth time in a row.

The girl, who already had her hands wrist-deep in her hair, sighed loudly. “I’m booooooooooored! When are we getting a move on”?

“When we have all the information we need”, Qian replied briskly, tired and trying to keep himself awake as well. Dara merely slumped forward on the hospital’s cafeteria table and grumbled. Normally she was fine staying awake for missions, but she was beginning to feel anxious for some reason and had a strong urge to bolt out of the hospital whether anyone was coming or not. Only knowing she had no idea where exactly to go kept her in her seat, sipping a tall glass of coffee while Kohsoom idly picked at her mac and cheese, having lost her appetite some time ago.

Then, as if responding to them (or Dara’s complaint earlier), the lights went out.

“Suddenly, I am very motivated to just leave”, Kohsoom muttered aloud as Kiet hobbled into the cafeteria with a dazed O5-1.

“How’d it go”? Dara asked.

Kiet’s eyes seemed to glow in the dark as he spoke. “She’ll be dazed for a good while. Someone get her an energy drink or something”.

Lexy twisted a bottle open and helped O5-1 take a few sips, while they quickly exited the hospital.

“At least I didn’t turn off anything else”… the taller woman rasped out, struggling to stand up without her legs shaking like jelly.

“You’re lucky you didn’t, or we’d have more than just one death on our hands today”, Kohsoom muttered, then asked. “So what did you find out”?

“A lot of things that I can’t tell you right here”, O5-1 replied, straightening up as the energy drink worked its effects on her. “We’ll head back to base. I think we’ll be safer there for now”.

-

Back at Site-16, Shamshel lay quietly on his back, wings occasionally twitching in reaction to whatever he was dreaming about. The Site-0 priests were diligent in their work, sprinkling holy water over the Gate Guardian’s flaming body while tirelessly chanting Bible verses. It was a wonder they didn’t get tired.

That was what Able thought as he sat across from the huge angel, reading a collection of Bible stories he had borrowed from the on-site library. He had no other reason for doing so other than that he was just bored, and without either of the kids around, he was close to tearing out his own hair from boredom.

Plus it wasn’t like he got along with the other personnel – or his brother – all the time.

He skipped over his and Cain’s story and moved to The Binding Of Isaac, deciding that would be more up his alley instead. He couldn’t imagine his own father obeying the Heavenly Lord like that though. If anything, the old man would’ve spat in the Lord’s face and told him to take a hike. Why traumatise a parent like that anyway? He doubted he would go that far with his own children, even if the Lord asked it of him.

Then again, when was the last time he had turned to God for answers?

A brush against his side snapped him out of his thoughts and he almost jumped at the sensation before seeing who it was.

“Sigurrós”, he murmured, feeling his heartbeats slow to a normal pace as she sat beside him. “Some warning would be appreciated next time”.

“I called you from afar. Texted you even”, the blonde girl replied. “You’re the one who didn’t respond”.

Able checked his phone, and blushed at the amount of messages Sigurrós had spammed him. “I was…preoccupied”.

“I can see that”, Sigurrós replied, and when Able gave her a confused look she simply responded. “Look, you think too loud, and I can tell when you are. I can literally hear your brain whirring like a laptop working its seventh graveyard shift from here. What’s up”?

“Short answer? A lot of things”, Able replied. “And no, you’re not getting the long answer, otherwise you’ll need a therapist, and then your therapist will need a therapist”.

Sigurrós snorted a laugh. “At this rate, even the bleeding site director needs a therapist. Are we supposed to be any different”?

“They aren’t getting paid enough to deal with our bullshit here. That’s the problem”, Able chuckled, feeling a tad more relaxed. Good, now he didn’t feel like he was about to pull all his hair out.

All of a sudden, he and Sigurrós heard a moan coming from Shamshel, and they glanced in his direction to see his body flickering on and off like a gaslight without enough power. Moans and groans spilled out of the angel’s non-existent mouth until he was full-on screaming in agony.

Sigurrós went pale with fright, and Able’s hands shook as he dialled a number on his phone.