The Ebott Incident - From the letters and journal of He Who Waits Behind

[Ol' Tin Knight]

It was the night of the 22nd​, about 24 hours on the dot since He Who Waits Behind had been dragged out into the surrounding woods for a private chat by the kid and about 28 hours since they had first arrived back on the 21st​. By all accounts, he should have been asleep, but he was too on edge for sleep. And it seemed he wasn't alone, pretty much the entire camp was still awake. He had glanced over at the kid, snoring somewhat loudly. Well, except for them, apparently. He hadn't expected them to be the type to snore. So, with the kid soundly asleep and making that... noise, he decided to go for a walk. During his walk he picked up snippets of others' conversations here and there. It was about halfway through his walk that it finally happened. He was walking by Gold's tent when he heard static and a voice squawk to life over a hand-held radio.

"......." He paused in his walk before quickly realizing he couldn't make out what the voice over the radio was saying. "Confirmed, Agent Hood, this is Gold. Go ahead." The second voice on the other hand, was definitely Gold's voice. "......." "Are you sure, Hood?" "......." "Alright, then keep me-" He wasn't the sort of person to intentionally listen in on other people's conversations, so he continued his walk around camp. However, the snippets he did catch stuck in his mind, so he wasn't terribly surprised when only about 10 minutes later, Gold started calling everybody in camp together. He had to make a quick stop to wake Frisk up, but he was part of the assembly in front of Gold's tent in pretty good time. Just a moment later, Gold looked over said assembly and asked, "Alright, that everyone?" Gold gets a bunch of grunted affirmations in return. "Very good. We got one, ladies and gentlemen! Field agent just reported they found a cave opening on Alexandra Peak, part of Mount Albert Edward. That cave isn't supposed to be there, so we are going in. Remember, keep your cameras on at all times. Shouldn't have to say it, but that matters even more than usual on this one." So, Fenrus, if it's really him, got the coordinates right...

"Excuse me, Lead, sir." "Yes, Blue-1?" "Why does it matter more than usual?" "I have been supplied with experimental kit that allows me to see your camera feeds live while out in the field. So in theory whatever you all are seeing, I should be seeing it too. Now, enough yappin'! Get your gear together! We move out." It takes maybe just another ten minutes for the group to arrive at the cave entrance. It feels... strange. The full power of their almost if not actually platoon-sized group advances into the cave, a mix of MP-5s, P90s, pump-action shotguns, semi-automatic pistols, an old Polaroid One Step Express camera, and a Colt Python revolver held in their phands. As the group slowly moves forward, HWWB can't help but feel a chill run down his non-existent spine. Shaking his head to dispel his nerves, he readjusts his heavy suit of black body armor and grey fabric tactical clothes underneath, in the vain hopes it will help his nerves. That's when both he and Blue-3 simultaneously notice something weird about the cave.

Blue-3 reaches out to the walls of the cave first. The walls of the cave are a fine, almost pearly white in places, with patches of brownish discoloration. In other places it's a greyer white with streaks of rust-orange or rust-brown running through it. But, critically, the walls of the cave look... well, unnaturally smooth, as well as very soft. So when Blue-3 reaches a hand up to touch the wall, initially nothing happens, but when they plunge their nails into the wall, they sink in. Gold wheels around in alarm and, since he can't speak super clearly thanks to the mask he wears, is accompanied by a clicking sound as he yells, "Blue-3, what do you think you're doing!?" The soldier simply shrugs as he turns back. "Just testing a theory." At that, they yank their hand back and the chunk comes out of the wall, revealing brown, rougher looking stone underneath. A powder is kicked up in the air as they do so.

"Careful, don't breath that in or let it get in your eyes! And as for you, Blue-3, that's Soapstone, right? What was your theory?" "You got it in one, Lead. See, for the benefit of the uneducated in the group, this stuff is incredibly brittle compared to most rock, to the point you can do what I just did and dig in with your fingernails and pull a chunk loose. My theory or rather my point is simple; this proves this isn't supposed to be here. Caves don't actually or at least aren't supposed to form like this, with presumably roughly mono-material walls and a relatively thin crust of another material on top. Plus if I recall correctly, could be wrong, not too sure, I think I read somewhere before I took this job that Mount Albert Edward and Peak Alexandra by extension are predominantly Basaltic in nature, while Soapstone like this forms in Limestone."

As the group slowly advanced, Gold nodded. "Ah. Alright, researchers will love to hear that when they go over the recordings later. That does prove it fairly- A-2, dodge!" He just barely has time to move as a chunk of white rock falls down where he was previously standing. "That's the other thing. Look up." He does so. He immediately regrets it. The top of the cave had the same white stone 'crust' as the wall. Blue-3 clicking his teeth could be heard through his comms. "I'm willing to bet a strong enough vibration will essentially bring all of that right down on top of us." Iris Thompson visibly shivers in her armor next to him as she to craned her neck up to look at the cave roof. "Hey, remind me why Zeta-9 has the highest turn-over rate in the Foundation again, Lead?" "That. That right there is a perfect example of why."

They continue further into the caves, carefully covering each other as they advance and occasionally pausing to allow Iris to snap photos. It's when the group stumbles across a box with a smudged strange symbol that Gold suddenly has an additional comment beyond simple orders, "Oh right. This thing reminds me, the tip off from GoI-0007 means we are to keep our eyes peeled for anything belonging to GoI-0012 while we are in here. Blue-1, tag the box, could be important later." As the soldier squatted to do just that, HWWB shifted through his memories trying to recall the designation that was just thrown at him. 0012... "MC&D? Why would they be out here?" He didn't realize he had spoken out loud until Gold rounded on him with a look somewhere between anger, annoyance, and simple impatience. "Alright, I'll cover some of it, but only once, understood?" He nodded.

"About 59 kilometers away from Mount Albert Edward around the settlement of Blubber Bay on the north end of Texada island, there was once a Limestone quarry. That quarry's history stretches all the way back to 1907, but in it's most recent history it was owned by the Ash Grove Cement company, a business that was discovered back in 2017 to have concealed close business ties with GoI-0012, leading directly to it's acquisition by PRH plc as part of the ongoing case against that group. They shuttered the quarry in question back in 2010, but the tip-off we received suggested they might still be using it to move anomalous objects without being detected. At roughly the same time we are doing what we are doing, agents of MTFs Nu-7 and Iota-10 are working with local authorities to raid the quarry. I don't know why, but the tip-off also suggested that we may also find evidence as well, though that provided a different specific location, so who knows? So, keep your eyes peeled." HWWB gave a thumbs up to show that he got the important parts, at least.

"Done, Lead! Crate is tagged for recovery!" "Very good. Everyone, move out!" After a few more minutes of cautious advance, they came to a five-way split in the cave system. Gold threw up his hand to bring the procession to a stop. "Hmm. Alright, we split here. A-1, A-4, and your partners, take the one farthest to the right. Purples one through four, take the next. Blue-1 and Blue-3, you have next after that," HWWB looked at the tunnel Gold was pointing to. He couldn't shake the feeling that it looked extremely unstable. Why are just the two of them going in there? I mean, I know this is their area of expertise, but still- "Blue-2 and Blue-4, you're with me, we handle the next one after that," A strange gas was coming out of this particular tunnel. "and finally, A-2, A-3, and your partners, take the last one, furthest to the left." HWWB thinks he can hear the sound of nearly silent, child-like moaning and crying coming from the tunnel he's just been assigned. "Any questions? No? Good! Then get moving!"

(A/N: I feel the need to clarify that this update is the result of inspiration striking like lightning out of nowhere but also a lot of research, particularly around the real world Mount Albert Edward. Incidentally, the quarry that's talked about in the update? 100% real, supposedly. Never been there myself so can't confirm and given it's been closed for over a decade now, I don't recommend anyone else go there either. Furthermore, this update is not in anyway meant to slander the very real Ash Grove company which is almost certainly not tied to a shadowy organization in real life)

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

They advanced through the cramped tunnel, occasionally having to pause and sweep small divots and crevices as they did so. They also have to pause a few times to give a team member time to examine an object in their path. Already, they had found something truly disturbing; a small stick-figure doll or toy with button eyes, seemingly sewn together using sinew and made of some kind of skin. Perhaps understandably given that discovery, HWWB couldn't help the instinctual feeling that he wasn't going to like what ever was at the end of the tunnel. Aside from that particular discovery, they had also found a series of capsules that bore a symbol that, while faded, could be determined to be the same as the one on the crate from earlier.

As they exit out of the tunnel into a new cave area, a few things hit them all at once. The first is the comparatively large size of this cave, the second is the different rock that lines the walls, the third is the assembly lines that remind one of a factory complex, the fourth is what is on those assembly lines, as the same sick flesh dolls from before, amongst other sick toys, sit on the line in varying levels of being finished, and the fifth is the horrid, unearthly smell. Of course, once they pushed through all of that to the important things, two big things that remained that he would consider important, those being the corpses and the little ones. The former, the corpses, are exactly what it says on the tin; two corpses, one relatively fresh looking, the other skeletal, each either wearing a set of body armor or with a set beside them, the fresher of the two of which bears the five-pointed star over the globe that is the logo of the GOC, while the other clearly bears the worn remains of the same logo they found on the capsules and crate.

The latter, the little ones, are a large cluster of children, a handful around Frisk and A-4's age but many a good bit younger and a handful almost adult, all looking haggard, malnourished, and in some cases beaten. They don't react to their arrival; it's clear the children see them but simply refuse to acknowledge their existence. One kid, however, goes against the grain and points up excitedly at them, speaking in a language unknown to him. An older kid just looks at him with a defeated, sad expression and shakes his head. They then go back to what they were doing. Speaking of which, the children seem to be assembling the toys on the conveyer belt. Red-3 shot him a glance and reached for the radio on her shoulder. He and Red-2 shook their heads simultaneously. She glared back in response, muttering "Look at these poor kids, you'd seriously have them starve a minute longer?" furiously. He shrugged and replied back, "Look. First rule of trying to rescue someone; don't wind up in need of rescue yourself. This place isn't secure, the support staff would be vulnerable to getting picked off. As much as I hate it too, patience is a virtue. I thought you would have learned that in your job by now." Her fury seemed to only grow as she spat back. "Don't patronize me!"

Their discussion was interrupted by a horrible, piercing, *click* sound. They both turn as one to look at Red-2 with his finger up near his right ear. "Lead, this is Red-2, we can confirm that we are in SCP-4666's anomalous cave system. Repeat, this is Red-2, we can confirm that we are in SCP-4666's anomalous cave system, over." An awkward moment passes in relative silence as they wait for a response. Yeesh. He wasn't kidding, that earpiece of his really only has one volume. Thankfully, they don't wait long. "This is Lead, Red-2. Read you clearly. Clarify previous statement, please, over." "Understood, Lead. We have discovered a large number of children, looks to be mostly known abduction victims, in a room with numerous suspected instances of SCP 4666a under assembly. Any advice, lead? Over." There's another long pause before another *click* and burst of static, followed by the voice of Gold speaking. "Understood, Red-2. Secure the area, get all the children against one wall and do not advance further. Hold the area until otherwise instructed, out."

Red-2 nodded, before throwing his arm out to indicate the kids. "Well, I presume you heard Lead. Let's get them up against the wall." A few nods later, they all spring into action to do just that. It turns out to be harder then they thought. The little ones refuse to even recognize that they are there at all. At one point, HWWB even hears one mutter "Just ignore them. You know no help is coming for you, so they must be in your head." It breaks his heart to hear, and increases his confidence that these poor kids have gone completely and utterly wacko from a coin flip chance to one hundred percent certainty. There is one exception, however. While the kids refuse to acknowledge his compatriots' existence all together, HWWB himself is apparently somehow more real to them, so he occasionally gets fearful glances of recognition before they quickly look back down at their work. They never follow his orders to move to the wall or stop working, however.

Finally, HWWB, having finally had enough of this, slams or more accurately, slaps, the solidified back of his left hand across the face of one of the oldest looking kids, who had clearly been playing the role of a leader for his fellow kids. Red-3 and Frisk are both shocked. Red-3 beats them to the punch, however. "What the hell do you think you're doing!" He shoots them both a genuinely sad, frustrated look. "Getting things moving. We'll give these kids some therapy or something to help them recover from the trauma, I presume, but right now we just don't have time for that or to play around." He then leaned down slightly and carefully grabbed the kid, who was virtually nothing but skin and bone, by the shoulders. "Now listen to me, you understand? You understand!?" The child fearfully nodded their head. "Good. Because my patience with being ignored has just about run out. I want you to organize your friends and slowly walk over and stand up against that wall over there-" he motioned to the wall he meant "-with your hands clasped over your head. If you don't, I'll beat you and your friends senseless, do you understand?" One of his(the child's) 'friends' looked for a moment like they were about to object. "No buts. Do you understand?"

The little one spared a meaningful glance down to their arms, where a series of long scars from what looked like a claw injury from some wild animal rested. He followed the child's gaze and frowns, nodding to let him know that he understood. "I see. You were hurt, correct?" He nervously nods, clearly terrified of HWWB and not wanting to talk unless he has too. "Yes, well, right now whatever hurt you, whatever I presume is doing all this, is the least of your concern. You should be more concerned with me not losing my temper and beating you black and blue, understand?" He looks at some of the other kids' fearful faces. "And I promise you that if whatever it is comes here while you are following my commands, nothing bad will happen to you or your 'friends'." Another fearful if slightly reassured nod later, the little one he had just threatened runs off to organize his 'friends' and get them all against the wall.

It was now Frisk, who he just now realized had been eerily quiet this whole time and incredibly tense, probably more than he or either of the Alpha-9 operators were, who had a few questions for him. "Was that really necessary?" "One hundred percent." "Why? And where you really going to beat him?" "Of course not or at least no more than I had already done, but he didn't need to know that, in fact he needed to think the opposite. As for why, these kids are utterly terrified of something. Reassuring them won't work, unless you back that reassurance with the promise of force. You've got to be intimidating, look like you can handle whatever it is they are scared of."

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

HWWB swept his eyes across the little ones as they slowly but surely lined up against the cave wall. Alright, looks like that's all of them. "Now then, now that we've got them all up against the wall, Red-3 cover them while I search them for anything they may be-" "Hey! Who said you were in charge!?" He turned to look at the outraged face of Red-2, who continued his wrathful rant. "You aren't in charge here, A-2! So what are you doing giving orders!?" He huffed in a large, soothing breath, before releasing a loud groan. "Ok. Alright then, who is in charge here, Red-2?" The man seemed to be taken completely off guard. "What do you mean!?" "I mean, who is in charge? Is it whoever has the most experience? If that is the case, it is either me or Red-3. Is it the person with the highest rank? In that case it's... hmm. Actually, who would it be...?" He quickly scans his eyes over his compatriots' uniforms for any sign of rank, and quickly reaches his conclusion on who has the highest rank among their group.

Fortunately for him, it seems Red-2 has also realized that and has zero confidence in his ability to lead, as he immediately glances over to Red-3. She just shakes her head and mouths 'ah naw. not happening' to him. Red-2 then looks back at him, slight anger obvious on his face. "Alright, nevermind. Guess you are in charge more or less by default, then. Your orders, oh great 'He Who Waits Behind'?" He could feel his eyes inadvertently narrow on their own. "First off, talk as you work. The little ones are already starting to wriggle around." He motioned to where one of the little ones had indeed moved a good distance from their spot due to them being partly distracted by the argument. "Second, your orders. I'll repeat one more time; Red-3 cover them while I search them for anything they may be trying to hide. Red-2 and Fri- sorry, A-3, check the rest of the cave, make sure we got them all. Sweep and clear, in other words. Keep in touch over the comms." They immediately all began to spring in to action and execute their respective parts of the plan/orders.

"Third, your sarcasm is not appreciated, and saying my full title is against Gold's protocol and inefficient. Please, either HWWB or A-2 will be just fine.", he called over his shoulder as the two left. "Got them covered. Are you going to go up and search them?" "Sure. Just keep them in sight at all times, alright?" "Yes, A-2." Fourth, we should have prepared for exactly this kind of situation so there would be no questions like 'Actually, who would it be?' That fact we weren't screams lack of professionalism. He couldn't help but continue to think of some of the additional reasons he had that were in some ways objectionable even as he fumbled through a roughly 15-year old kid's tattered pants pockets for anything they were hiding. And then he found it. At least, I think this is it. Familiar shape...The kid's awkward blush changed from an embarrassed pink to a furious red as he fished out exactly what he thought he had felt.

"Nice knife, kid. Quick question, though." It really was a nice knife, specifically a very nice pocket knife with a name engraved on the blade and other words carved into the wooden handle. "Who's 'Blake Galloway'? That wouldn't happen to be your name, would it? If not, then why is it engraved on your knife, along with 'to Jake, my little cowboy' on the hilt?" At precisely this moment, Frisk and another entity heard his words and Frisk froze as they spotted a familiar lost spirit of sorts out of the corner of their eye. This lost SOUL stood there, dressed presumably as the day they died in a poncho and cowboy hat and stared at the knife in HWWB's hand. Their gaze was contradictory, filled with anger, sorrow, remorse, and regret. Then, before anyone else knew anything was happening, they faded away and Frisk felt a tug on their shoulders pulling them on. The little one who had possessed the knife in the first place answered back, "Uh, no. My english is not good, please forgive me. But, no. Not my name, never heard name." "I see. Honestly, it's not that bad. Well, then if there's nothing else you'd like to reveal to me, you're clean. Behave, and you might get this knife back, ok?" The child nodded as he quickly fished out one of the small plastic bags they had been issued for exactly this kind of scenario and carefully bags the knife.

Sometime later and his efficiency meant that all of the children had been searched, all of the weapons and other items of interest they had on them bagged up. Red-3 somewhat doubtfully looks at the pile of bags in his arms as he struggles to get them safely stowed away in one of the uniform's many pouches. "Already done, huh? So, what did you find?" "Well, let's see, remind me, it's December the 22nd​, right? Which means its the holiday season, right?" She looks at him even more doubtfully. "What does that have to do with my question?" "Just answer the question, please." "Yes, it's the holiday season." "Oh. In that case, five debit/credit cards, four different knives, three sticks of dynamite, two cans of mace, and a partridge in a pear tree." He grunted in victory, a slight chuckle escaping as well, as he finally finished packing away the bags and glanced back up at Red-3. All he was met by was her unamused face. "I was being serious. Quit joking, it's highly unprofessional." He was aghast at what he was hearing. "Unprofessional- Now listen here. You don't want to get me started down the 'professionalism' or lack there off rabbit hole. And if the skeleton can find it in himself to crack puns and laugh, then I can make some jokes and laugh too. You know what I mean, right?" A quick glance at her confirms that she has no clue what he is talking about.

"...*Sigh* Forget I said anything. The worst part is, I was mostly being serious." "No way." "Yes way. Being serious, I found about fifty plus different forms of ID, mostly medical insurance, social security, library cards, and the like, all from about fifteen different countries, all above the 40th​ parallel. I also did in fact find five credit/debit cards, though four out the five are no longer any good, as well as four different pocket knives on four separate kids, two cans of pepper spray, two foam dart blasters with darts, and the real prize, what the internet told me if memory serves and if the appearance isn't deceptive, is a Glock 17, five rounds fired leaving twelve in the magazine, so the ammo count is right. It's tragic really; the kid whose pants I fished this thing out off had a gun and at some point tried to fight back but now he's scared out of his wits and traumatized so bad he'd never think of it unless it was his last resort. Maybe not even then. No prizes for guessing the nationality, by the way."

Meanwhile

Frisk and Red-2 had made great time. They carefully but swiftly swept every nook and cranny in the cave and were just about to complete the full circuit around back to the beginning. Then, Frisk heard something truly horrifying. A bone-chilling, feral, animalistic screech. Frisk let their instincts take control and they panic-dodged away from the direction of whatever had just made that sound. However, some part of them was aware of another sound that had been incessant for sometime now; a low static-like buzzing sound. It was only then that the part of their brain that realized that soon understood something else; Red-2 wasn't moving to dodge. It felt like slow motion, as some horrible shape sprang from seemingly nowhere and pounced on Red-2 just as the screech began echoing off the cave walls. When Frisk's evasive roll away finally came to a stop they looked back up and saw what a person not in the know, particularly one of a religious inclination, might have called the spawn of hell, with a face that only a mother could love. Not even the most repulsive of the monsters back under Mt. Ebott even came close to the sheer aura of evil and wrongness seemingly emanating from every pore on the creature's skin and every fiber of it's being. They saw... THE YULE MAN. SCP-4666.

Spoiler: The Yule Man (* Warning! Potentially horrifying imagery! *)

Back with HWWB

It's at that moment that they hear a horrific roar, if it can even be called that. A brief moment later, HWWB hears Frisk's voice in his commset. "I... We need help! Trouble! I think we found it!" He looks at Red-3 for only a moment before breaking out into a mad dash to find the kid and help them. Red-3 was right on his heels. "That communication went out to everyone involved in this operation! Pretty soon, the cavalry should be here!" He turns back for only a moment to bark back "That's the hope." Thankfully, it doesn't take them long too find Frisk, unfortunately, they arrive just in time to watch as the Yule Man finishes his victim. Red-2's body is already so thoroughly eviscerated, that it's almost impossible to identify as a body, yet 4666 keeps digging, tearing, and rending flesh with a wide sadistic grin on it's face and splattering the cave walls with blood in the process.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

(A/N: This time around the 'song' has a bunch of inspirations frankensteined together extremely crudely, including but not limited to: 'Shelter from the Storm', a frostpunk rap by The Stupendium, 'Wolf in Sheep's Clothing' by various artists, and 'Build up our Machine' by 'DAGames'. Some of these inspirations are more obvious than others.)

The stunned silence didn't last long, as in mere moments the horrid creature lets out another equally horrid screech and charges forward, claws swiping through the air towards Frisk. By the time it arrives however, Frisk isn't there anymore and HWWB is. The anomalies' claws pass through his body harmlessly on the first two swings but before either of the other two can react the creature has already swung a third time, trailing a strange white energy behind it in the arc of it's swing. This swing 'cuts' a wide gash through him and sends him careening back. However, he expertly lands on his feet and slowly rises back up, assuming a fighting stance with his arms held up to guard his head. A fourth swing is sent wildly off course as he bats the creatures arm off target mid-swing. All of a sudden, he stiffens, smirks, and closes his eyes. Frisk feels a strange energy or presence in the room. "Well, I don't appreciate not being asked, but sure, let's make handing this thing its own rump to it on a platter a musical number, why not?" The other two are initially confused, until he opens his usually green eyes, showing one to be the same light-blue/cyan color as half his SOUL, the other is a dangerous shade of yellow. Both these two eye colors, especially together and glowing as they were, together with the ominous chuckle that escaped HWWB's 'lips', reminded Frisk all too much of the Judgement Hall. That actually helped the confusion a little for Frisk; then it completely cleared up for both of them when he started singing.

🎵Is that really all you got?
Come on now, walk it back, take another shot!
In a distorted voice:
(Oh, you want a FIGHT, do you?)
Well then put up your dukes, old chap.
Because here comes the back-snap.🎵

The Yule Man's Screech can be heard echoing off the cave walls.
•FIGHT •ACT •ITEM •MERCY
HWWB Chooses FIGHT!
Frisk Chooses ACT > Check (Enhanced)
Red-3 Chooses ITEM > Flash Grenade​

His hands suddenly balled into fists, solidified, and his stance tightened up, a sign he was getting ready to throw punches.

•••••|•••••
Hit!
•••••|•••••
Hit!
•••••|•••••
Hit!​

And throw punches, he did. The same 1-2 into an uppercut combo that he had used against SCP-106. The creature looked completely taken by surprise as if almost no one had ever fought back before or at the very least the last time it had seriously fought something had been a very long time ago. It staggered back, reaching up to grab where the uppercut landed in pain. Of course, the others didn't waste their time doing nothing. Making good use of some teachings on the part of Toriel and an enchantment provided by HWWB, Frisk quickly took a closer look at their opponent... and were chilled by what they found.

The Yule Man -
ATK ??? (Absurdly High)
DEF ??? (Moderate)
* Possesses roughly human-level intelligence hampered by an almost bestial mind
* On the matter of Strength it's no contest; it'll crush you.
* Huge amount of experience and talent for slaughter and murder, only a minority of which is useful when the target is actively fighting back.
* Absurdly Dangerous.
* The SOUL resembles a human one with a similar roughly heart-like shape. However, this one is warped almost beyond recognition and is colored black.​

Their examination was suddenly cut off by a cry of 'look away! Bang out!' as Red-3 pulled a metal cylinder, a grenade, off their belt and in one single smooth motion pulled the pin and chucked it at the ground directly at the Yule man's feet. In the instant before he looked away to allow the flash bang to go off and do its thing, he realized that the creature seemed to recognize him for some reason. He had no clue why, but decided sure, let's roll with it.

🎵Oh, woe is you
right about now!
(It seems you've seen a ghost, friend)
What, you surprised to see me?
I am Alive!
And I'm here to inform that there is hell to pay,
because listen, mark my words: one day,
regardless of whether we survive or not, one day, you will pay, yes, you will pay.
Karma's going to (come collect your debt)!
Because there is hell to pay!
Hey!
You creator,
of horrid toys,
You traitor,
to all young boys,
you could have made children's dreams come true, instead you made their nightmares real!
I know, because,
I am Alive!🎵

His first proclamation was accompanied by an incredibly loud bang and a flash of light, seemingly blinding the creature and rending them deafened. But of course, he wasn't going to let it get away with just that.

SCP-4666 is blinded!
•FIGHT •ACT •ITEM •MERCY
HWWB Chooses ACT > Grapple
Frisk Chooses ITEM > Sticky Camera
Red-3 Chooses ACT > Try & Talk
​

He dodges in between a few blind swipes of 4666's claws and grabs ahold of 4666's horrifying head, forcing it under his right 'armpit' while wrapping his right arm around its head, evading a few attempts to bite him in the process. All the while, he either selectively de-solidifies his body to allow strikes to pass through or for the attacks enhanced by the white energy, simply takes it with grunts of pain, as SCP-4666 continues desperately flailing at him. Meanwhile, Frisk pulls out another piece of kit they were issued, apparently because of Iris Thompson's anomaly; a camera that automatically snaps photos on a delay and can be stuck to walls. A brief grunt of frustration later, and it's stuck to the cave walls and snaps a picture of the ongoing struggle. Red-3, having remember their orders, meanwhile, is attempting to communicate with the creature currently being wrestled by HWWB. She makes no progress, only getting screeched at for her trouble. Around this time, even as the aftershocks have yet to fade from the flashbang, the sound of boots can be heard approaching the chamber they are in. HWWB's smirk widens.

🎵Oh here they come!
The cavalry crests the hill!
If you listen well, you can hear the drums,
once they get over, you'd best not be here still.🎵

SCP-4666 is blind and grappled!
•FIGHT •ACT •ITEM •MERCY
HWWB Chooses ACT > Wrestling > Suplex
Frisk Chooses ACT > Guard Little Ones
Red-3 Chooses ACT > Wait
•••••|•••••
Hit!
​

"He got 'em!" Yells an excited little one as he chucked the Yule Man over his head in a text book suplex. Red-3's reaction comes almost immediately, "A-3, get them back and keep them safe, if you can." Frisk moves to do just that, waving the little ones away from the fight. Just as this is happening and the creature lands following its trip through the air courtesy of suplex, a team of four agents with pump-action shotguns rushes into the cave. "What's going on! Where is it?" Red-3 partially turns to regard them. "Nice of you to join us, Purple. We think we got it." "It?" "Yes, it. SCP-4666, in the flesh, it's the creature writhing on the ground over there. Open fire!" "But aren't our orders to-" "Trust me, tried already. No point while it's like this, just shoot!" Then, before they could, they all got a distant look to their eyes and Red-3 felt much the same presence roll over them that Frisk had earlier. They joined the song.

🎵Heave lads, Ho lads!
Forget the comforts of home, we're nomads!
*HWWB returns to singing alone*
We must never waver; the is the price we pay for
safety one day for our children on the path we pave them.
In the end know that history depends,
on an empire forged on the embers of what we monsters and soldiers were forced to give up.
Spoken, not sang:
And taking out this bit of trash is just one more spark, one more bit of debt to the tab.
And so I say: Frost, the poet, was right when he theorized about the end of the world. So I ask you, abomination; how would you like your end? Hot, or cold? Fire, or Ice?
Here, I can satisfy both at once with lead.🎵

•FIGHT •ACT •ITEM •MERCY
HWWB Chooses ITEM > Revolver > Quick Draw Shot
Frisk Chooses ACT > Guard Little Ones
Red-3 Chooses ITEM > MP-5 > Burst Fire
Purple-1 Chooses ITEM > Shotgun > Blast
Purple-2 Chooses ITEM > Shotgun > Blast
Purple-3 Chooses ITEM > Shotgun > Blast
Purple-4 Chooses ITEM > Shotgun > Blast
​

The creature had just finished standing back up from getting Suplexed and the singing from Purples 1-4 had just ceased when the creature was rocked by a sudden brief spurt of gunfire as Red-3 lined up and ripped off a burst. And it was just after that when a sequence of booms started echoing around the cave. The Yule Man seemed only barely more bothered by the projectiles than by the punches from earlier at first, yet as the shotgun pellets and smg bullets scored hits, it began to flinch back. Then, in one quick, fluid motion, HWWB drew and fired, scoring a perfect Bull's-eye in the midst of the creature's face. It dropped like a lead balloon, crumpling to the cave floor. Red-3 spoke up first, "Is it dead?" He felt the presence fade but not completely, which he took to be a bad sign, and just looks at the body for a while, before finally glancing at Red-3 and answering honestly. "I don't know. Probably not. Someone should keep an eye on it." They all share nervous glances, before calling Frisk over and tasking them with watching the body. What could possibly go wrong? Other than, you know, everything.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

(A/N: Same story as last time, except the inspirations are different.)

What could possibly go wrong? Oh, what a dumb thing to think, even sarcastically. It was barely five minutes later when he, and only he, heard the scream. He came rushing back to the chamber their battle took place in and found zero SCP-4666s and zero Frisks. He did, however, find a blue ooze or blood trail, which he quickly followed. He was quietly kicking himself for not thinking about the consequences of leaving the kid with the thing alone the whole way there. Once he followed the trial to it's conclusion, he found a bleeding Yule Man and a slightly fatigued looking Frisk slipping out of its clawed grasp. He didn't waste any time. "What happened?" They looked at him for a split second before practically pouncing on him. "It wasn't dead, it got back up! I triedtocallforhelpbutitdidn'tworkandthenitjustgrabbedmeandstartedrunningand-" He shook his head in frustration. "Whoa kid, calm down. Breath." They eventually managed to do just that. They also realized something; his eyes hadn't at any point returned to being green.

He reached for the commset attached to his shoulder. "A-2 to all units, I'm going to need some backup here, sending out a location ping. It's back up. Understood, over?" And with a tap of an orange button, he did just that, sending a sequence of pings that should in theory help the others locate them. He then glared back down at SCP-4666. "I remember where I recognize you from, and I know why you recognize me, but don't expect me to go easy on you because of that. It was a tragedy, sure, but by itself it's no excuse. I'm sure you could do better." The abomination, surprisingly, doesn't screech at him, but its reply takes the form of incomprehensible garbage, to the confusion of Frisk. "Wait, you know this-" "Old history we'll have a lesson on later, focus on defending yourself for now."

•FIGHT •ACT •ITEM •MERCY
HWWB Chooses ITEM > Revolver > Six(Five) Rounds Rapid (empty cylinder)​

As the last words left his mouth, he swung his revolver up and rapidly fired of all five rounds left in the cylinder. Five cracks loudly resound around and bounce off the walls of the chamber, soon joined by two more, distinctly meatier, loud sounds, as two of the rounds found their targets and dug in. Then the already bleeding creature rushed forward, claws lancing out. It attacked incredibly quickly and brutally, but despite its remarkable speed and aggression, it simply couldn't land a hit on Frisk, nor land a meaningful hit on HWWB, the two dancing around or (in HWWB'S case) blocking all of its attacks.

🎵Now I hate to be unoriginal and steal a bar from a jester of a judge, but...
Guys like me, it ain't easy to be played for fools.
So let's go, now the room gets chiller.
Let's go, dirty child killer.🎵

The creature's swipe comes extremely close, only for him to casually, almost lazily lean aside at the last second.

🎵(Come on, come on,) I'm being patient,
my name isn't Cain, I'm not invincible.
Go ahead and (Hit Me) if you're able.
You can try to hold me back.
But you'd best get ready for an attack.🎵

SCP-4666 is lunging animalistically!
•FIGHT •ACT •ITEM •MERCY
HWWB Chooses FIGHT!
Frisk Chooses ACT > Try to Talk!
••|•• •••••
Hit!
••••• •|•••
Hit!
••••| •••••
Hit!​

They continue to try in vain to communicate with the Yule Man, receiving only screeches and the occasional bit of bizarre babble in return. He meanwhile takes advantage of an opening in the onslaught to throw a series of quick counter punches. The sound of boots echo from the entrance. He briefly glanced over at them, and once again swore he saw flashes of great heros he once knew. But, he spots something else this time, something he shouldn't be able to see without truesight. A small crowd of spirits, seven total, one for each of the most common colors of the human SOUL, crowded around their shoulders. For a brief moment, his eyes landed on the heart-locket around their neck.

🎵Wear a necklace of hope(and despair)
Side by side with me
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
For a hero long thought dead
To rise and fight again, through a child brave & bold
A new pro·tag·o·nist, in memory of the old🎵

The creature wastes no time trying to punish his counter attack but he easily evades his way out of trouble and the two both go back to playing defense until the Yule Man slips up and overextends on one of its swings, allowing him to close the gap and with a quick hand motion, channel arcane energy into a spell.

SCP-4666 continues to attack!
•FIGHT •ACT •ITEM •MERCY
HWWB Chooses ACT > CAST SPELL(S) > Force Bolt​

Then, with a quick flourish, he shoots out a familiar-looking blue orb, knocking the creature off its feet from the sheer force it imparts at such close range. It's around the time the creature lands on its back that he hears the footsteps getting louder. With a smirk clear on his face, he flicks open the cylinder...

SCP-4666 is prone!
•FIGHT •ACT •ITEM •MERCY
HWWB Chooses ITEM > REVOLVER > Rapid Reload​

...ejects the spent cartridges and rams in a speedloader. In the time it takes him to draw and reload his revolver, the Yule Man is back on its feet but his backup had finally arrived.

🎵Well, your day has come
Time to pay
(Show no mercy)
All true warriors strive for peace
Hearken to me
We will not retreat
I'll set them free!
All true warriors strive for peace
Hearken to me
We will not retreat!
We strive to save the little ones!🎵

•FIGHT •ACT •ITEM •MERCY
HWWB Chooses ITEM > Revolver > Six Rounds Rapid (empty cylinder)
Frisk Chooses ACT > Perceive
Red-3 Chooses ITEM > MP-5 > Burst Fire
Purple-1 Chooses ITEM > Shotgun > Blast
Purple-2 Chooses ITEM > Shotgun > Blast
Purple-3 Chooses ITEM > Shotgun > Blast
Purple-4 Chooses ITEM > Shotgun > Blast​

What almost immediately follows is a whirlwind of lead being thrown around en mass, as the cracks of a revolver firing echoes through the chamber, shotguns blast, an MP-5 rattles off rounds, only to be capped off by a final pair of revolver shots. This time around, the Yule Man doesn't even bother trying to play dead or to conceal the extent of the damage being dealt, that being, surprisingly minimal but substantial none the less. As it is riddled by projectiles, Frisk notices that it's trundling it's way over to a patch of smooth white-ish rock, similar to the soapstone earlier. Everyone else is too busy pouring on the damage and singing like they are possessed, possibly because they partly are, to notice.

🎵Heave lads, Ho lads!
Forget the comforts of home, we're nomads!
*HWWB returns to singing alone*
We must never waver; the is the price we pay for
safety one day for our children on the path we pave them.
In the end know that history depends,
on an empire forged on the embers of what we monsters and soldiers were forced to give up.🎵

•FIGHT •ACT •ITEM •MERCY
HWWB Chooses ITEM > Revolver > Rapid Reload
Frisk Chooses ACT > Perceive
Red-3 Chooses ITEM > MP-5 > Burst Fire
Purple-1 Chooses ITEM > Shotgun > Blast
Purple-2 Chooses ITEM > Shotgun > Blast
Purple-3 Chooses ITEM > Shotgun > Blast
Purple-4 Chooses ITEM > Shotgun > Blast​

They realize what it is about to do far too late to warn the others. Even as it continues to be riddled by gunfire, the abomination takes its claws along the smooth stone. Surprisingly enough, entire chunks of the stuff fall away in sheets and clumps. Even more surprisingly, there's a tiny tunnel on the other side, not bare rock. The creature goes prone and squeezes just barely into the tunnel, disappearing from view. Almost like a switch somewhere was flipped, they all feel the strange presence leave them, and HWWB's eyes begin to turn green again.

Red-3 looks uncertainly around the room. "So... is that it now? Is it dead? If not, what do we do? Feels... After all my years working this job, you'd think I'd have a better word, but... wrong? Anticlimactic, maybe?" He turned to face her. "We don't do anything further about that... thing. Can't really. No it's not dead, but it's not coming back. For a while, at least. Don't ask me how I know that." "And uhm... what was that... presence, for lack of a better term?" "Ma'am, Red-3, if you don't know, I certainly don't. Wait for Gold, he and the Blues should be here soon. If you really need something to do, call in the rescue staff we have on standby. Should be safe now. Me? I'm going to go set my sticky cams then sit down somewhere and just... think."

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

With his cameras all deployed, he sat down as he said he would. Paramedics and a few researchers swarm around the cave like bees in a hive, taking samples from the walls, attempting to stabilize the little ones, interviewing them, and applying a strange substance to them. Amidst the general buzz of activity, Gold finally locates him and gives him an extremely curt debriefing:

1. They have confirmed that the creature they had encountered was SCP-4666, and that its presence could be linked to a pair of nearby complaints of an unknown trespasser watching the complaining households at night.
2. SCP-4666 is just gone, no one has any clue where it ran off to.
3. The little ones, as somewhat expected, are suffering from a grocery list of ailments, both mental and physical. However the most urgent by far is the obvious malnutrition.
4. They are being examined by medical staff and given food, with special caution being being taken to avoid refeeding syndrome.
5. The raid on the old quarry turned up a 'large number of items', and had no casualties.
6. Speaking of which, Blue-1 and Blue-3 are MIA, assumed KIA after the tunnel they were sent down collapsed behind them. Red-2 is obviously KIA, but there are no other casualties. So, by Zeta-9 standards, not bad.
7. The little ones are to receive a dosage, the amount and strength based on length of time between first missing persons report (if extant) and current date, of Class B Amnestic in order to remove their memories of their time with SCP-4666.
8. Anything further to be done with them will be discussed once they have been moved to a safer environment.

With the debriefing complete, Gold stomped off to similarly talk to the remaining personnel involved in the mission. HWWB briefly glanced up and smiles as most of the little ones crowd around, with disbelieving faces, a crate of old saltine crackers, beef jerky, and MREs that had been dragged into the cave. Its only slightly dimmed by the sad look on some of the worst off kids' faces when they get turned away after being handed a special nutrient solution instead of solid food. He suddenly feels something poke through him. Feeling his smile turn into a slight frown, he solidifies and allows a set of tiny hands to scurry up his leg and up onto his left shoulder. As whatever is climbing him does so, he feels the familiar sensation of coming under the effect of a casting of Universal Translation. "Well, been a long while since I last saw you! I guess welcome to the old folk's club, He Who Waits Behind!" He snorts, not even bothering to turn his head in response. "Hey, that's my line. ...Good to hear you again, Fenrus. What hole did you crawl out off, anyway? Actually... don't answer that. You know, I didn't think anyone other than me, Gerson, and the sort of people who it's debatable if they're people or not, were still around after all this time. How you been?" "Oh, you know. Starving to death. Otherwise, just fine! ...You know me, I hate to be stereotypical, I even was a member of this fancy organization!" "Yeah, I think I remember that, what was it called again?" "R.A.B.I.D.! Rodents against boring idiosyncratic discrimination!" "...Great. A pun name. What criminal came up with that?"

"Doesn't matter! Point is, I hate being all stereotypical and all, but... *rumbling sound* I know you have cheese on you. I smell it. So come on. Pleeeaaase!?" He made an exaggerated sigh as he reached down to one of the pouches on the slashed up uniform's vest area, and after fumbling with several of the small plastic bags, carefully pulls out a small but fine cube of Colby cheese. He eyes the cube briefly, before raising it to his left shoulder. He feels the cube be rapidly torn from his fingers and feels a tiny weight leave his shoulder. Almost as soon as the weight left his shoulder, he hears the humorous sound of a small rat going to work on the cube. For the first time since the rodent had poked him, he looked down and to the left. He saw more or less what he expected to see; a rat, with brown fur that was greying in spots and human hands, chomping noisily on an orange cube.

What he hadn't expected was for him/it to pause in between bites and look up at him questioningly. "So, not that I don't appreciate the rescue, I do, but... *Eating sounds* Oh dear goodness, this is so good. Well, so, what happened to that oath, huh? *Eating sounds* You know, guarding the underground and all? *Eating sounds* What are you doing here with these bozos?" "Long story short, its no longer necessary. You saw the kid earlier, right?" "Yeah, what about 'em?" "They set us all free. Well not technically them I suppose but... close enough." "Heh. You still didn't fully answer my question." "Well, later. Eat, then after you show me all these ancient texts you claimed to have, I'll answer." "*Eating sounds* That a promise?" "Yes, that's a promise."

He casually pivoted his head up and noticed one of the Epsilon-6 members, one of the 'purples', walking towards him. He leaned down as casually as he could and carefully scooped up Fenrus and the cheese. "Hey! What's the big idea!" "Just stay inside where I'm about to put you. Try to be quiet. Trust me, you don't want my current associates to know about you." He then unceremoniously hid them, rat and cheese both, back in his pouch. Something tells me the rest of today is going to be the real tiring part.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

* Two days and some extra time later *

It was the morning of the 25th​, and the Provisional Containment block was one of the cheerier places to be in a normally dreadfully grey and drab Site-19. Normally, personnel and objects in containment don't get the benefit of holidays, especially not Christmas, Hanukkah, and similar holidays around the season of the Winter Solstice, with only Halloween being on average a busier time of year and by extension more forbidden. However, Provisional and Safe class containment at sites all across the world were a key exception, with both assigned staff and contained entities (given best behavior in the case of Provisional) being granted special permission to observe the holidays. This was largely a moral-increasing effort, but it often times had tangible effects both good and bad. This particular year, HWWB was observing one of the good ones as the populace of Snowdin used their skills, literal generations of tradition and experience, and unexpected permission slip, to decorate the wing better than any professional home decorator could have managed. The spirit of the season was practically in the air!

Normally, the permission to celebrate the holidays didn't extend as far as it currently was for anomalies; however, yet another unexpected reunion had insured that they were having the time of their lives. Sitting next to HWWB and surrounded by a mix of paranoid figures in black suits and equally paranoid figures in full black body armor with crimson insignia on their shoulders, sat a young-looking, fair-skinned, female human with flowing brown hair and striking green eyes. HWWB spoke up,"So, just to clarify a point of confusion for me: You. You are 05-5?" She giggled. "Yep. I replaced... ugh, what was that stupid nickname? Oh, right! I replaced 'The Blackbird', not to be confused with the Falcon, obviously, he got that name from the stupid little birds he insisted on leaving instead of a signature." Their reunion been extremely.... unexpected, to say the least.

* Hours prior, early morning, December the 25th​ *

He had been trying to sleep when he was awoken by a loud knock on his cell door. Groaning loudly, he turned over to face it. "Go away! Do you not know what time it is!?" Whoever was bothering him apparently didn't care, because in the blink of an eye, the cell door was flung open and a set of four dour faced men in suits crammed their way in. After an awkward moment, one off them suddenly spoke. "It's as safe as it is going to get, ma'am." In strode a young lady in a fine grey dress. "Really now? Is that any way to talk to someone so important? To an old friend?" He was taken completely off-guard, which was happening a lot recently. "I'm sorry? I don't think I know you. And what do you mean important?" "Aww. Come on now. You do know me... or of me, at the very least. Try harder. If it helps, we met at his funeral. We were friends for years afterwards until... well. You know. As for important, well, you are talking to one of the thirteen members of the group who controls the organization whose building you are in."

Met at his funeral? Wait no, at his? I'm not sure we are on the same page, but... He took another highly critical look at her, trying to place where he might have seen similar features before. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but answer three questions for me, alright? If that's not too presumptive of me." "No, it's quite all right. If it was, I wouldn't be here." "Ok then. If you really are a member of the 05 council, doesn't that mean your not supposed to be here talking to me right now? You're talking about Devon Aidendale's funeral, right? You spent some time as a tree because of a Djinn, correct?" For a very brief moment, her eyes widened, but they quickly returned to normal and she wasted no time replying, "No, I'm really not, technically speaking. But, between you and me, that prohibition has never been enforced in any meaningful way; we all interact with whatever anomalies we want, whenever we feel like it. Yes, I'm talking about Aidendale. And yes, I spent some time as a tree. It was... an educational experience." He suddenly felt an involuntary shiver run down his back and glanced down at the floor. "I don't hold a grudge, though. Well, at least against Djinn in general. It's a little hard to, when they are all dead. ...Except you, apparently." He looked back at her and felt her name come to him in a flash of inspiration. "Julanar, right?" She nodded happily, smiling. He got the distinct impression she didn't smile often.

* Back in the present *

"But yes, I am 05-5." "That's... hard to believe. You said you wanted to ask me some questions?" "Yes, yes I did. I read your interview with Dr. Lee, you know." "Actually I was unaware, but go on." "I couldn't help but notice the there was one question he asked that you never actually answered, and I'm curious as to the reason why or better yet, the answer." If he could sweat, he would be right about now. "Uh huh. Right. So, did you know there is a disco ball and a full DJ set-up in the cafeteria here?" It was a rather blatant attempt to change the topic, but surprisingly enough, she went for it. "Yes, I am aware. Goddammit, Bright. That is the result of a... problem that we can't get rid off. One of several, actually. Now about my question?" "Uh, urm hrm. Well you know-" "Stop stalling." "...Alright. Ask the question." "How exactly is it you were getting receive-only internet? How is it that was happening down in the underground, yet none of them except you and the kid know about Fox's work?"

"Uh well you see... I may or may not have spent most of the 90s learning how to code and coded several bots to filter every piece of internet traffic we were getting, which was very sporadic and unreliable by the way, in order to filter out stuff they shouldn't be seeing via blocking web addresses and hyperlinks attached to the problems. All on a computer that was literally assembled using a potato battery, some old C64 components, some monster-made proprietary stuff, and the 'keyboard', if you can call it that, assembled from an incomplete IBM keyboard and the buttons of a TI-84. Honestly, the reason it actually worked was filling in the gaps with magic, without that it was a non-functional arts and crafts project. As for receive-only internet; I'm not entirely sure how that worked either, honestly." He finishes his explanation with a shrug. Julanar looks at him like he is crazy, before returning to a neutral expression. "...Interesting. Well, good to see you again, after so long. Can't stay, busy busy busy! Give Fenrus my regards!" "How-" "I have my ways. His secret is safe with me... For now. Oh and before I forget; here's the report on the operation you were on a couple days ago, I figured it'd be interesting reading material." She shoves a sheaf of papers into his hands as she stands up to walk away.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

Quickly flipping through the sheaf, he glances through and identifies the information he finds most interesting. It's buried amongst large masses of details that seem largely irrelevant to him, but he eventually narrows it down.

This operation, as expected, proved to be an excellent (though not ideal) demonstration of the capabilities of the two new Alpha-9 members, the analysis of which follows below. He quickly flipped a few pages further, finding the analysis summary.

With regards to A-3 (i.e. Humanoid entity 'Frisk', birth name 'Jackson Torres')

1. Entity shows pacifistic tendencies, which are generally an unwanted quality in Mobile Task Force personnel.
2. Excellent reflexes that are vastly superior to what any normal human of their age should possess. Not anomalous or superhuman in the strictest sense, but approaching the peak of human ability.
3. Good combat instincts, particularly defensive instincts.
4. Did not demonstrate the theorized time-warping 'reset' ability, at least to field agents and strike teams' knowledge. If in possession of it, makes overall assessment even clearer.
5. Displayed no meaningful formal combat training, firearms or cqc proficiency, or knowledge of explosives.
6. Displayed excellent perception and situation awareness.
7. Knowledge base seems roughly as expected for a well-educated (good private-school) but isolated child of their age.
8. A background of slightly limited socialization seems to be compensated for by a certain natural charisma and outgoing personality, based on interactions with fellow operatives. Extremely charming and capable.
9. Closer examination of their actions but particularly their expressions and emotions throughout has led to the conclusion that they should be examined by a psychiatrist.

Overall assessment: Scout/Pointman?, Diplomat​

Their lack of aggressive instinct, pacifistic tendencies, lack of formal combat training, lack of appropriate skills, and young age means that their inclusion at all is questionable, but these considerations have not stopped us before, so instead it simply means that they are highly inappropriate for a conventional direct combat role. On the other hand, their exceptional reflexes, perceptiveness, situation awareness, and possible (though unproven) power to rewind time, coupled with several other considerations (like small body size) makes them an ideal lead scout. Their raw charisma and empathy is also a consideration, and could be useful for allowing peaceful first contact scenarios via serving as a diplomat of sorts.

He scratched his chin in thought. Sounds about right... wait a minute. When did Frisk talk to the others? He quickly read back through to confirm his thought. He supposed he must have not been with them for that, or not paying close enough attention, because he doesn't remember them ever talking to any of the others. Other than that, he thinks to himself, sounds about right. He continues to the next summary.

With regards to A-2 (i.e. Semi-humanoid entity 'HWWB')

1. Displayed very good but not exceptional reflexes and perceptiveness.​
2. Bizarre biology grants total immunity to most, if not all, physical attacks. Also comes with other opportunities and advantages.​
3. Displayed no formal combat training, but compensated with acceptable skill level in hand-to-hand combat and excellent marksmanship.​
4. Superb hand-eye coordination. ​
5. While not displayed during this mission, a previous incident has already made known his phenomenal arcane abilities and power. He doesn't have vastly superior power compared to mages of the modern age (at least in terms of what we have seen), but he vastly outclasses them in understanding of magic, seemingly possessing an almost scientific view on the topic. He also blows them out off the water in terms of reliability and cost. ​
6. Based on personality and behavior during this mission, generally slow to resort to violence, but fully capable of making snap decisions, including falling back on violence almost disturbingly quickly in the name of protecting himself and others.​
7. Possesses ideal character traits, like being calm under pressure, being near endlessly patient, being generally difficult and slow to anger, being able to remain in control even when angry, being extremely brave, and being willing to follow orders.​
8. Exceptionally broad and deep knowledge base.​
9. Lack of subtlety and stealth-related skills or abilities; sticks out like a sore thumb in an urban or suburban environment.​
10. Strong sense of morality and strong desire to be a hero may represent a potential point of friction; this is tempered by his expressed belief that what is moral and what is 'right' aren't always the same thing.​
11. Somewhat lacking social skills; at best, can come across as stiff and wooden. At worst, can become surprisingly nervous.​

Overall Assessment: Scout/Pointman, Thaumaturge/Type-Blue/Mage​

Much of the skill-set he revealed to us throughout this operation were things we were already aware of, though the true extent of his marksmanship was surprising and impressive to behold, this simply reinforced what we already knew about him while revealing a few potential weaknesses (notably social awkwardness and lack of any form of subtlety or stealth, which, when combined with his obvious anomalous appearance, means he would be a walking breach of secrecy in any hypothetical deployment in a populated area). Yet, he doesn't have as strong a hangup with violence as the previous did, and his unique physiology's properties, namely its resistance to physical attacks, is a perfect ability for a lead scout. On the other hand, his arcane knowledge is something Sigma-3 would kill for (possibly literally), and Alpha-9 doesn't currently have an answer of its own for hostile magic users, and one of the best answers available for hostile mages is a mage of your own.

He scratches his head. I'm not sure if I should be offended or not. I mean, 'somewhat lacking social skills'? Oh come on! He fumed slightly as he flipped through the papers to a footnote under the casualty report on the back.

This mission has also made the ongoing shortfalls of Alpha-9 quite obvious. The unfortunate demise of Red-2 was clearly the result of Alpha-9's severe discipline issues. They enjoy privileged access to equipment second only to the likes MTFs Alpha-1, Epsilon-11, and Tau-5. There is therefore no reason Red-2 should have entered the mission with a damaged, faulty earpiece, even a mostly functional one, that would potentially lead to his death due to his inability to properly hear threats in his surroundings. Yet, he did, and as all surviving members reported, there was no equipment check prior to the mission on their part, where this issue might have been discovered. It seems obvious that the decision to select non-anomalous human members based solely on loyalty, mental resilience, and general merit, with no consideration given for discipline or reliability is a severe oversight that is causing these issues.

He clicked his 'teeth' as he read the footnote. No wonder they were so surprisingly unprofessional. He then casually but carefully folded the sheaf up and tucked it into his overall pocket. He'd finish it later, there'd be time.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

He couldn't help but smile as they all gathered around the tree, wrapped gifts underneath courtesy of the Foundation and a few secret stashes, and spoke amongst themselves. The giving of gifts at the holidays was an old tradition that for the monsters dated all the way back to Snowdin's founding, back when humanity had just gone through a dark age and lost almost all of their arcane and scientific knowledge and several thousand years before the first signs of the next great human civilizations would arise, around 12,000 B.C. or so. That tradition had changed substantially in recent times thanks to a certain deer-like monster's misfortune. Though the way they went about it was a good bit different, when the date arrives, it played out roughly the same as the human 'Christmas'. So perhaps understandably, it and the giving of gifts around it held great meaning for them. With this in mind he had tried his absolute hardest to find appropriate gifts for all of them. It hadn't been easy; their situation meant that what he understood to be the two generally safe options for humans on the surface, money and gift cards, were off the table. Mostly...

Sans ripped through the wrapping with obvious disinterest. But that suddenly changed when he spotted the gifts inside; two cards, one a folded greeting card with a written message, the other what looked almost like a credit card. Sans picked up the card and began to read it.

To the bane of my existence,
Sadly, I owe you, as do the others, even if both they and you will never know why if I'm doing my job right. Anyway, they say the fastest way to a guy's heart is through their stomach. Don't take that the wrong way. As a guy myself, even if food is completely unnecessary for me, I can attest to the truth of this (something I'm sure you understand quite well).
So, I got you a little something to help you with getting the services of your favorite cook.
Enjoy, HWWB.
​

"What is it?" "Gift Card to Grillby's! Did you know they're still taking money? Actually I guess that is obvious, given the card and all, but it really surprised me, given they don't need to pay for ingredients or anything anymore." The humanoid fire-elemental in question glared over, clearly annoyed even as they tried on Timmy's (Monster Kid's) gift to them (a pair of heavy heat resistant gauntlets to help them with handling things without reducing them to a fine crisp). "It takes time to cook such heartening food and even if it's my passion, it's as they say, time is money." HWWB shrugged. "Alright, sure. Fine." Sans looked at the card for a brief moment then up to HWWB, and as he did so, his semi-perpetual grin grew several sizes larger. "Well, thanks a ton, bud! A skele-" "You're welcome, but stop right there. You need new material, you've made that pun how many times now? Also it's nothing special anyway." "Ah hah huh. Probably too many, yeah. Also, yeah right. Sure it's not." "I'm serious." Sans's grin then dipped to it's usual, seemingly stuck, level of eerily cheerful. "Uh huh. Almost makes me feel guilty for not getting you anything." He shrugged again. "Don't feel that way. Their is almost nobody here who knows my preferences anyway." He was honestly extremely grateful for the ability to just default to a gift card, as the skeleton was infuriatingly mysterious, so he had no clue what to give them. A situation shared with a certain other person...

Timmy had finally finish talking with Grillby and walked over to him, confused expression on his face and gift in levitating in front of him, just as Papyrus also approached a strange mix of joy and anger on his face. "Well, hello. How many I be of serv-" "THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THIS!" Timmy quietly spoke up, "I don't understand what this gift even is meant to be..." Papyrus somewhat uncharacteristically rudely shoved HWWB's greeting card to him into HWWB's face, forcefully reminding him what he wrote.

To one Papyrus,
I don't know you, you don't know me. Not really, anyway. I have only two comments or requests, I suppose, to make. Please control your brother's... comedic tendencies a little better, two, if you insist on trying to cook, please improve so that the war crime you call spaghetti will not hurt anyone else. To that latter end, please accept my gift to you.
Regards, HWWB.
​

He couldn't help but wince reading it. He had forgotten how... blunt, he had been. "WELL!? ANY EXPLANATION!?" Papyrus practically screeched while waving a cookbook filled with classic Italian recipes. He sighed. "Look, I could have been a little bit more... tactful, but I maintain I said nothing that was a hundred percent wrong. I was trying to give a gift I thought you'd like. That would help you. I... I don't know what to say other than I'm-" "DON'T APOLOGIZE! *Coughs* No, I'm the one that's sorry." He practically felt whiplash from how quickly the mood had changed. "You were clearly just speaking your mind and being honest! Trying to help! I'm the one who got all upset. So sorry. I'll do better!" With the emotionally confusing exchange ended, Timmy once again spoke up. "I don't understand my gift..." He took the box and glanced around inside, quickly locating and pulling out another greeting card.

To Timmy,
Is it all right I call you Timmy? I don't really know you, but Frisk told me your name. I'm not Sans, but I do occasionally have an evil, immature funny man side to me. That is the side that produced this gift. You'll understand it partially later, eventually.
Best wishes little guy, HWWB.​

He glanced around inside the box at the two gifts he had chosen and almost immediately felt a smirk come on, though he couldn't tell why. A pink baseball cap and a green eyeball with a tag declaring its name as 'Sam' were his presents to Timmy. Why did he pick these? He couldn't remember. He shrugged and told him as much. He looked a little disappointed but quickly perked up and revealed that he and Frisk had worked together with Julanar herself to get a present for him. Curious, he tore the wrapping paper off and checked inside to reveal... "Yu-Gi-Oh cards?" "Yeah! There's more though! Check the top 2 cards of the deck!" He did just that and was shocked to see a cartoonish rendition of himself back when he was a full djinn staring back at him from the card artwork of the top card. "Surprise! It's a custom monster card of you!" He was only slightly less shocked to discover the next card to be the Seal of Orichalcos, with most of its original anime effects. Including... "...Please tell me this card doesn't actually cause your opponent to lose their SOUL if they lose the duel?" "...I don't know! Apparently it depends on the intent of the one playing the card or something? I mean it's just a card so obviously it can't actually do that right?" Just then he noticed a small note tucked into the box. Grabbing it and reading it, he went a distinctly lighter shade.

Salutations, Mrs. Nafs! Those of us here working for Dr. Wondertainment would like to congratulate you on your purchase of a genuine anomalized UDE (Upper Deck Entertainment) Seal of Orichalcos. Please use responsibly! Dr. Wondertainment and Co. are not responsible for any criminal charges involved in using this card, including but not limited to...​

His expression at that moment read obvious disbelief. "Hey, you ok?" He hesitantly nodded. "Oh, I'm fine. Just peachy really." He then dug deeper into the deck. "Hmm. It looks like a djinn deck with extra flavor." "Yep! We figured you'd like it! Do you?" Timmy tilted their head as they asked the question. "Yes. Thank you, all three of you." And even though the Seal creeped him out, he meant it.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

Before he could get anywhere, he was intercepted by a grateful looking royal scientist. "G-g-gosh! Thank you so much! It-it's g-great!" "Uhh, come again?" "Your gift, silly. It's perfect, thank you so much!" "Uhh, your welcome, I guess? I'll be perfectly honest, I just told Julanar-" "Who- Who's Julanar?" "Just a person here at the Foundation of some importance I happen to know, anyway, I just mentioned your preferences as I knew them and asked if they knew anyone who could recommend anything. They did and I just followed the recommendation." "Oh. Well... thank you anyway!" The recommendation, after ruling out a bunch of other better known options, being a box set of the full English dub of the anime Ghost Stories. Most anime dubs were, as his source explained to him, complete trash, but this one was a unique case and was legendary among most fans of anime who were aware of the obscure stuff, particularly western ones, for being a meme machine like no other. He had briefly considered the original Japanese version or dub of Mew Mew Kissy Cutie or Tokyo Mew Mew (which he knew she liked, and which shockingly had nothing to do with each other at all), but after doing a casual little bit of invasion of privacy, he discovered she had a shockingly complete collection of 'stuff' for both already, including all episodes in both languages. He still had no clue how she got the stuff. "Well, I-I-I think I've taken up enough of your time. Merry Christmas, I guess is what they said we're supposed to say, and happy holidays!" "You too!" He shot her a beaming smile as he stepped away into the crowd.

Now it was on to the other giver of the deck of cards, the other one he still knew almost nothing about (other than Sans, that is): Frisk. Getting them a present had proven nigh impossible as he simply didn't know them well enough. In the end, his gift to them was probably the most thoughtful gift of them all (and at the same time, the least thoughtful). It was certainly the most personal, as this present came from his personal belongings the Foundation had shockingly allowed him to keep. It was also a gift he had given once already, to someone he saw in them more and more. And so, he was genuinely excited as he handed them the long skinny box with carefully done up peppermint-colored wrapping.

They tore the paper off and opened the box... Only for their eyes to go wide and them to immediately drop the box, take a few quick steps back, and begin taking deep breaths. He stepped forward and glanced curiously down at the present box. All he saw was the greeting card and his gift to them. The gift was a fine dagger, longer bladed than typical, with a razor-sharp point and a decently sharp edge on each of the two sides of the steel blade. It was abnormally weighted to make it effective in slashing, thrusting, and throwing alike and its hilt was a fine, rich, dark brown hardwood decorated with steel, brass, and gold. On the blade there sat on one end an engraving of the arcane sigils for 'patience' and 'restraint'. I don't see what caused them to... ah. Right. Idiot, should have thought of that. Oh wait, I did! Just... didn't think it'd be this bad...

He looked at them sympathetically as he picked up the dagger and greeting card. Hiding the dagger inside, he casually walked over to them. "You know I didn't thank you for my present." He waved the deck of cards, all carefully individually sleeved, around in his firm grip. "So you know... thank you." "..." They just glared at the greeting card in his hand. How could I forget!? ...Oh. Right, lately they've been more talkative and freaking out more, so I guess that's how. The kid often seemed to him to have three modes: the strong silent type (which seemed like the default), very talkative (only about topics they're passionate about or when talking to friends and enemies), and complete panic (very rare, only happened once under Mount Ebott, when they were attacked the very first time). "Anyway, I was wondering if you could maybe at least try to read the christmas card. It might help calm your nerves a little." They eventually slowly nodded and took the greeting card as HWWB drew the dagger back out of it.

Dear Frisk,
I, heck we all really, owe you more than you yourself probably understand. I don't want you to fret over any mistakes you may have made; just remember them and don't make them again. My gift to you is a gift I gave a friend and a hero an extremely long time ago, only to receive back in the mess that was his will when he died. I think you need it now, just in case. As you know, I remember everything you did and the things you came in contact with. Suffice it to say, this weapon is different then the one you wielded before; it is a hero's weapon, not a tool of murder, for one. For the second thing... well, carry yourself with honor and you'll find out.
Please take it, best regards, HWWB.​

A long, awkward moment of silence passes by, as HWWB absent-mindedly plays with the dagger in his hands. As he does so, he flips it several times, revealing the opposite end of the blade from the first engraving. On the opposite end is another engraving, also of an arcane sigil, this time for 'Paladin'. Then, suddenly, he spoke: "So, do you accept it? Will you take it?" They quietly nodded and took the dagger from him, before carefully staching it and the sheath he also gave them away on their person. Just then he heard two grating voices, one high-pitched, one low-pitched, one of which he had already dealt with today, call out in unison "Hey! Come on over here HWWB/He who be Lurkin'." He rolled his eyes at the latter familiar voice's little nickname but took his leave and began walking over anyway.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

As he lowered himself down onto the stool, he almost immediately knew he was going to regret this. And then he was proven right when he heard the whoopie cushion. "Hey there, HWWB! How you been?" He shot a suspicious and angry glare at the skeleton sitting next to him nursing something from a brown glass bottle. "Good, for now. Enjoying the festivities and all." Wondering when the other shoe will really drop. "So, I've been talking with my new pal, Fenrus, right?" "That's my name, don't wear it out!" "And we decided you could use a little more holiday spirit, and what better way to help with that than asking each other some trivia questions." "Yeah, what better way!? I'll start us off! What's the mean air speed of an unladen swallow?" "Hah! Trick question. African or European?"

There's the other shoe. He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Hey, I got one. What's my tolerance level for clumsy Monty Python references?" The scowl that had steadily spread across his features seemingly did nothing to deter either of them as Sans took a long swig from his bottle before responding. "Hey now, relax. Don't be like that, you might hurt your cheekbones being all sassy and depressed like that." Fenrus briefly looked between the two. "So, are we really doing this?" "Yep. Tell me, do you know who the biggest skeleton rock star to come out of New Jersey is?" "Nope! Why don't you cut to the cheese?" "Bone-jovi! How about you? You got one, pal?" His desperate groaning went unheaded. Well, mostly anyway. "What's the matter? Are you feeling bleu? That's okay! I'm sure we'll cheer you up!"

He didn't even get a second to think before Fenrus followed up with another question, "You want to hear a cheesy joke?" His response was quick and decisive, "NO!" The evil grin on the stupid rat's face tells him all he needs to know about how much of a mistake he just made. "Yeah, you're right. Nevermind, it's no gouda anyway." "Uggh." That one was physically painful! "Hey Fenrus." "Yes, Sans." "Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Candice." "Candice who?" "Candice joke get any worse?" "Uggh!" "What's me and my bro's favorite TV show?" "I'm nacho friend, how am I supposed to know?" "It's Bones, obviously *whispering: it's actually not, but it's for the joke, you know.*" Help me! I'm frickin' drowning in terrible puns! Wait. Drowning... Huh. Hehehe ha ha. My turn to show you two chuckle nuts how it's done... Something, he himself wasn't entirely sure what, had reminded him of what he considered one of the greatest examples of medium-long form comedy to have ever graced reality and his goofy side wasn't letting these punsters get away with their terrible humor without a demonstration on how it's meant to be done.

"Are you two finished yet?" "Nowhere near-" "Well you are now. Buckle up, cause this one takes a while to get to the punchline, but it's worth it." "Does that mean-" "Yes. My turn now, you jokers."

He cranes his neck a few times and pantomimes cracking his knuckles (because it's one of many acts he himself can't actually do), and finally finished preparing, launches into telling his 'joke'. "So a pirate captain walks in to a candy store and asks for some gum drops. The guy behind the counter, says 'Why would you want gum if it's been dropped?' he continues, 'sir, wouldn't you prefer a candy fish?' the captain says 'candy fish? is it sweet?' to which the guy behind the counter goes 'well it's swedish'. Did I mention that I'm the guy behind the counter? Anyway, so now the captain is so angry, he makes me walk the plank. And I shout 'don't you think you're going a little overboard?' And the captain says 'No, you are!' But, but, before I jump, this is very important, before I jump, I ask him 'Can I not just have one last mug of root beer?' And the captain says 'That would be fine.' So I take the mug and I jump. And I would have drowned if it hadn't been for one thing --- Root Beer Float!"

Suddenly, the two jokesters both practically bust a gut laughing up a storm as the final punchline, with its immense buildup, finally lands home. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here literally all week." One of the guards, surprisingly, who also couldn't contain his laughter, suddenly speaks up, "Hey, you got anymore material?" He paused in thought for a moment. "Sure I do... but not really off the top of my head." The skeleton finally recovers from his laughing fit and speaks up, "Oh, I got plenty of material where that came from! ...But you weren't asking me, were you?" The guard shakes his head. "No, I was not. No offense." "None taken." He nodded. "See? Now that's how you do it!" It was Fenrus's turn to speak, having finally recovered from his laughing fit. "Ohhh, that's good. But on a more serious note, when you're done with everything else for the day, I've got something to show you. Let's just say it relates to my promises." He nods in acknowledgement, before turning to regard everyone else.

The king and ex-queen where arguing over something, Timmy and some other children were clustered around Gerson listening to his stories, the royal scientist and ex-head of the royal guard were sitting together, some ten or so humanoid entities also held in provisional containment (only two of which were actually 'human' themselves), nervously talked both amongst themselves and with Frisk, the gathering sticking out like a sore thumb to one who has mage sight when contrasted against the crowds of monsters that surround them, the thinner skeleton (Papyrus) stood more or less alone (clearly deep in thought about something), and most of the ex-royal guard members were scattered defensively around the crowd, eyeing the aforementioned grouping of anomalies as well as the Foundation's site security guards. As his eyes swept back through the crowd, they locked with the ex-queen's eyes for a moment as she stepped away from her argument. Both smiling broadly at each other, his notably smaller while hers was seemingly just a bit forced, they approach one another.

(A.N.: If you know the source material for HWWB's joke in this part, good on you. If you don't, my only hint is that it's a somewhat poorly known show that spawned directly and indirectly many better known shows.)

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

It isn't long before they reach each other. Toriel spoke first, an obviously strained and fake smile on her face: "So..." "Yeah, so." An awkward silence hangs in the air for a brief moment. "...How has your day-" "They told me what happened. Frisk, that is. About your little mission out into the wilderness, and what happened in the cave." His mind almost immediately went into a whirl trying to think of what she meant. ...Oh. Right, we left the poor kid alone with that murderous 'thing'. No wonder she looks upset.

He chuckles nervously as he replies, "How'd you like your gifts?" This only causes a furious twitch at the corner of her smile. "Well enough. They are all good. Thank you for the encyclopedia, by the way. ...But please stop avoiding the subject." Nuts! So much for that idea... "Well... I don't know what you want me to say, honestly."

She exhaled loudly. "I'm not angry." He looked at her incredulously. "You're not!?" "Obviously, I was when they first told me, but no, not anymore. Now they want to know how you know or I suppose maybe 'knew' that 'thing', and I do to." Frisk had slowly sneaked their way over to the ongoing conversation, and now sat listening to it as it proceeded.

"I mean... sure, I guess? But, do you really want them to hear this? Fair warning, it's kind of messed up. And its not a big secret or anything like that, but I'd appreciate it if we could take this somewhere more private if we're going to talk about it." "If they want to hear it, and they've made it clear they do, then yes, I insist. But, we can go wherever you are comfortable." "Thank you."

He quickly glanced around until he found one of the security guards lazily smoking a cigarette. "Hey you! Yeah you, guard there! Can the three of us get a private room to have a conversation? And can you please put out the death stick?"

* Sometime later *

"Well? Are you going to explain?" "Of course I am! Patience, please. First off, understanding this requires a little bit of background historical and metaphysical knowledge. Have either of you heard of the Boogeyman?" He could practically feel his 'teacher mode' activate. Toriel's expression is completely blank while Frisk's shows intense concentration. "Anyone? Anyone at all?"

Frisk raised their hand. "Go ahead, kid." "That's the story parents made up to spook their kids, right?" He facepalmed. This was going to be harder than he thought.

"Ok, either of you two aware of Hitler and Nazism?" Frisk raised their hand again. "Go ahead Frisk." "Sure. I was taught that Nazism was the hateful ideology that brought about WW2 and the Holocaust, while Hitler was their leader. Is that right?" "Eh. There's a little more to it than that, but close enough." She looks at him slightly sceptically. "Why is that relevant?" "Because there have actually been many beings to carry the title of Boogeyman over the years and of those, the Boogeyman I'm referring to was, to my knowledge, the original and a monster, specifically they were basically to monsters what Hitler was to Germans and Austrians."

"That's... a lot to take in." "Um hmm. Are you aware that their followers, also again much like the Nazis, engaged in bizarre immoral experiments, largely on humans." "I... was not." "Of course you weren't. I don't blame you. For a very long time, nobody has been." "What does this have to do with the Yule Man?" "I saw it in his eyes for the shortest of moments. He was an old human friend of mine who disappeared and was never found again. ...I think."

She did not look impressed. "You think!!?" "Yes, I think. It certainly seemed to recognize me. Now, I don't know if this is what happened to whoever they are for a hundred percent certain, I only know for sure that they did this sort of experiment on at least one person and they usually had a larger number of test subjects, as is usually good practice when pursuing science, and this would explain what Frisk said they saw when they performed a CHECK on it. But..."

"You know how monsters can absorb human SOULS? Normally, the reverse is impossible, a human can pull energy from a monster SOUL but can't fully absorb it. Well, what do you think happens if it is somehow forced to happen anyway?" "You mean a human absorbing a monster SOUL? ...I don't have a clue" "Neither did they, but they tried it anyway." "You- You don't mean..."

"Unfortunately, I do. I think that 'thing' was a person at some point, I'm not entirely certain who though I obviously have a theory, forcefully made to absorb a monster SOUL through a method that is still unclear to me. Turns out when a human does that, they are twisted and morphed beyond recognition." She looked shaken by this revelation. "...And you are completely certain that what you describe happened to at least one person?" "A hundred percent, sadly. What I'm describing is a known experiment of theirs."

"And you want to know the best part? If true, all of this was just part of one of the twisted experiments conducted by the followers of the Boogeyman. They conducted many others. In fact, Alphys' and the other Royal Scientists' before her's DETERMINATION research was a continuation of the work began by those wackos. I'm willing to bet there are other so-called anomalies that are the products of their research."

Now both their faces light up in horror and concern. Frisk, for the first time since he began, speaks up. "Does that mean... did they create amalgamates?" He simply shakes his head 'no'. "They mainly worked with forced human subjects, so if I recall correctly they didn't get that far down that particular 'branch', for lack of a better word."

She speaks up next, clearly shaken. "D-d-do you know what other-" Suddenly they are interrupted as a clear, feminine voice cuts into their conversation, "Do you know what other anomalies the Foundation has in containment might be products of that research?" All three of their heads snap around to take in the new comer. While Frisk and Toriel have no clue who the woman standing by the door is, HWWB can't help but simply smirk.

"Ah, Julanar! Great to have you join the history lesson! But about your question... off the top of my head... reminder that this is just a theory anyway right now with regards to the Yule Man, I'd need to get it under true sight on an autopsy table to be sure, but based on what I know of your files, I'd guess probably: SCP-096 'the Shy Guy' and provided there's a person under it's clothes, SCP-1529 'the King of the Mountain'. Or really any roughly humanoid anomaly that is still identifiable as having been human once but is completely twisted and warped."

Julanar nods politely. "Thank you for your assistance. Apologies for interrupting you." He shrugged as he responded, "Eh, not a big deal, really. I think we're done here. Am I correct or not?" Toriel nods and before long, the four depart, the original three returning to the party and Julanar heading off to deal with her own matters.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

As they returned, HWWB noticed the king and the former head of the royal guard quietly discussing something. As he reentered, they both noticed and waved him over. I might not like wherever this goes. He gave a slightly curt and overly formal nod to the both of them, before giving a shallow and equally formal bow to the King. "Your majesty. Undyne." The king barked out a deep, surprisingly loud chuckle. "Oh, come on now, don't be so formal! Just wanted to thank you for your gifts and give you ours!" For definitely not the first time since he had become part human, he wishes he had an eyebrow to arch. "Oh really? You two got me something? ...You shouldn't have. Really." The response he got? More chuckling. "Oh, nonsense! It's what the season is all about after all. Though I should say, this is actually from me, Undyne here, and Toriel as well. After all, you got gifts for us, so we're just returning the favor!" The former soldier scratched the back of her head somewhat awkwardly.

"Yeah, just wanted to say thanks for requesting the punching bag, I can never keep those for very long and talking to these bozos never really feels right." She jerks her head in the general direction of one of the loitering security guards. HWWB felt a smirk come on. "I take it you weren't the one to make the request, then?" The irritated scowl was all the answer he needed. "...Anyways. So, Toriel mentioned that you said something about you drinking-" The king cut in, "Which honestly surprised me. You didn't seem the type to me. She also didn't tell us what exactly your preference is. So I hope you like this! The guy we requested it from, who recommended it, said it was quite nice." He casually took the offered box and ripped off the wrapping paper. What he found inside was... more paper, specifically a distinct brown paper wrapped around an object that looked to him to be shaped vaguely like a wine bottle.

He eagerly opened up the brown paper and stared down at the label. Duckhorn Vineyards 2006 Nappa Valley Merlot. Interesting. "I'll be honest, I didn't expect you and Toriel of all people to get me anything, but especially not this. Also, I don't actually drink very much at all. ...But, thank you anyway. I guess I'll save it on the shelf with some of the other drinks I have for a special occasion or something like that." The king's face takes on a downcast look at that. "Oh. I'm sorry, do you not like it?" HWWB scrambled to reassure him. "No No No, it's fine. I said thank you and I meant it. It just wasn't quite what I was expecting when you told me you all got me a gift, that's all." Asgore looks slightly better after hearing that. "Are you sure? ... *Ahem* Well, your welcome then. And thank you for the complete Better Homes and Gardens collection, those were always a lovely read whenever we got them. Especially the gardening sections. I didn't know they had a name change!" Now it was his turn to chuckle. "I didn't either until I started asking around to put together your gift. Though I think I prefer the current name to Fruit, Garden, and Home. Certainly rolls off the tongue better." Soon enough the three were saying their goodbyes and separating, but before HWWB could get far, a familiar face intercepted him. "Ah, Doctor Lee! How may I help-." "We need to talk somewhere more private." "...you. Is this about what we discussed yesterday?" "It is, I've got an update from the guys I told you about. Also, a meeting location for before the reunion. Subject to change, obviously."

* The previous day, December the 24th​, unofficial interview *

"I just don't know what to get him!?" "Who?" "Asgore Dremurr, you know, king of the underground?" "Uh huh. ... You said he likes gardening?" "What? I- I didn't say that to you." "You were thinking out loud. Does he like Better Homes and Gardening, by any chance?" "Pfft. Like? He and his wife read every copy they got their hands on until they were absolutely sure there was nothing else to be gained from doing so, and then kept them on hand just in case. So... yeah. I'd say so. Why do you ask?" "I know a guy. Well, a lady, actually. I can get you a full collection of every issue ever published by 04:00 tomorrow. Entirely incidentally, did you know the title of the magazine was Fruit, Garden, and Home for the first two years of it's existence?" "Huh. Interesting. I did not know that, though with access to the internet I probably could have if I had wanted to. Speaking of which..." He stared intently at the African-American doctor before him. Who or I guess what does he remind me off? I never really noticed before, but he kind of looks like...

"Yes, speaking of which, the thing I wanted to talk to you about. How much do you know about a company called Telltale games? Does that ring any bells?" He shook his head even as he kept trying to place the doctor before him. "How about the Walking Dead? That mean anything to you?" His eyes went wide as he realized were he recognized him from. "Yeah, it rings a giant alarm. Out of newborn curiosity, what's your first name?" "I go by my first name, it's Lee." "And your last name? Please for the sake of all that is good in the world, tell me it's not Everett!" The doctor got an evil grin as if he knew something that HWWB didn't. "It's not. But remember our previous interview, about the muse that inspires people to write about things they couldn't possibly know? It used to be, and I know a guy whose name is currently Lee Everett. He's a teacher and my nephew, and he is a dead ringer for the character that I know you are thinking of right now. Heck we both are, I just look older. It's creepy, really." HWWB hardens his digits and scratches his chin. "Ok, so... what does that have to do with me? And why are we discussing 'off the books' as you put it?"

"You know all those rituals you where talking about needing?" "Yeah... wait, no... you don't mean what I think you mean, do you?" "Depends what you're thinking. I found one off them. Or rather, a colleague of my nephew, an Archeologist loosely associated with the University of Georgia, found one off them." "And you are absolutely certain about this?" "Completely." "Ok, well, get it then. Surely the Foundation must have ways-" "Oh sure. But I'm trying not to involve the greater Foundation if possible. This man is a close friend of my nephew, and his statements were also the only reason he didn't get into trouble during a minor scandal involving a local senator that he had no actual connection to." He almost immediately felt a wave of recognition at what he was being told. It must have shown, since the doctor continued; "And no, it didn't, contrary to the fictional depiction, involve him murdering anyone." He defensively shrugged, trying to signal 'I didn't even say anything!'.

"The point is, the archeologist is important to my nephew. I try to keep my family as uninvolved with my work with the Foundation as possible, and that includes here." "So what exactly do you propose, then!?" That came out a little louder than intended. "There's a family reunion coming up on March 18th​ of next year. I normally never go to those, but my wife, whose last name, Sessions, I took by the way, insisted we go. I'll arrange things with my nephew for his friend to be there, with the scroll that I'm certain has what you need. Really I needed to talk about the reunion anyway. ...I'm afraid there might be trouble. I need some muscle that I can recruit without letting the Foundation know to help things go smoothly." "And you think I fit the bill?" "Well... yes actually. Besides, aren't you sick of being cooped up all the time?" "Reminder, Doctor, I was stuck in a single cave or 'room' about the size of an abnormally large bedroom plus living room for over a hundred thousand years! The cell is nothing new, comfortable, even, by comparison! ...But I'll be happy to join you, as long as I'm not the only one. By myself I, as one of your organization's document's put it, 'am a walking breach of secrecy'." "I have a shortlist of normal humans or people who can pass as such that I've worked with before that I'm trying to assemble. I'll keep you updated."

* Present time *

"And that about sums it up. We'll definitely have enough muscle with us that can blend in." "Uh huh. Unless something really unexpected happens." "True and fair but let's not think about that." "Could you repeat that meetup spot?" "It's Jittery Joe's Coffee on Broad Street. Did you get that?" "Got it! Also, one more thing." "Huh, what?" "You remember the whole reason I decided to go on the mission, right?" "Yeah, I do. To bad that turned out to be-" "Let me finish. I'm warning you now that I might disappear in a bit, just for a short while to deal with something related to that radio message. I'll be back, with a present in tow, but I know your organization doesn't appreciate this sort of thing, so if you would make sure my disappearance itself disappears, that's be great." "...I'll see what I can do." The two shake hands and part ways.

{A/N: First note, I do not in anyway endorse drinking in general (quite the opposite, actually) nor the specific wine mentioned here. That just so happened to be the top result when I searched 'US merlot'. On the flip side, I know nothing about wine, so if I got something wrong, there's your reason. I also don't endorse Jittery Joe's Coffee; that was metaphorically pulled out of a hat (almost literally if said hat is digital) nor Better Homes and Gardens, which just seemed like an appropriate gift for the character its given to. Second note, this one took a decent amount of research on weird and in some cases obscure topics to make.}

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

HWWB had just returned to the celebrations when he felt a pulling sensation he hadn't felt in a long time. What the heck? He blinked and when he next opened his eyes he was in an unfamiliar cell with two beds, some potted flowers, and myriad framed pictures of the royal family, including their adopted human children. As a small *puff* of purple smoke, created by his sudden teleportation, cleared up, he announced almost as if on old uncertain instinct, "I may grant you three wishes, oh master of the ring. What is your first wish?" Haven't had to do that in a very long time. Good to know the instincts are still there. So, who's got the ring and where... He doesn't have long to ponder that question, as he soon catches sight of Frisk sitting on the end of one off the two beds holding a small but fine ring of shimmering gold with his title inscribed upon it. They smirk slightly and shake their head.

"Ah. Hey there kid. So, no wish for now then?" They again shake their head. "In that case... you mind handing me that ring?" They nod and flick the ring off their thumb over towards him like they were flicking a quarter. He snatches it out of the air with ease and examines it. Yep, definitely my ring all right. All though, why do they have it, and why weren't they surprised when I warped in on them. Unless... "Hey kid, where or I suppose when did you find this?" "1st​ of this month, the weird pocket dimension." I thought so. Might as well just say as much... "I thought so. Certainly explains a fair bit." He stared at the ring intently for a moment longer. Then making his mind up, he flicks it back to Frisk, whose face lights up in surprise. "What? You haven't made your three wishes yet. And besides, I think it's safest with you. Please don't let me down on that, ok? Hide it somewhere, don't let anyone else know." They nod slightly uncertainly as he walks back out.

He walks directly to Fenrus, slightly desperate to avoid any further disruptions. What he saw when arrived back at the counter from earlier was a taller skeleton, a security guard, and a rat with human hands trying with far more desperation then he thought he had ever felt about anything to wake a sleeping Sans the skeleton. Said skeleton was surrounded by cans and the same brown glass bottles from before, both off which he now realized from smell alone were at one point containers for very cheap beer. "*Ahem* Gentlemen. What seems to be the problem?" Papyrus immediately whipped around about to speak, frustration plain on his face, but the guard spoke before he could say anything, "He had way too much to drink and it knocked him flat on his ass. Now we are trying to wake him up." "What he said but less crude!" He glanced at the small pile of entirely drained bottles and the multiple crushed cans. "Uh huh. Yeah, I can see that. I need to borrow Fenrus for a minute-" "Occupied!" The little rat angrily jumped up and down on the snoring skeletons face to no avail. "Like I said, I noticed. Ok I don't really know your brother, heck I don't really know anyone from back under Ebott, so tell me this much; is this a normal thing for him?" "What? Drinking or drinking to excess?" "Either, really." "Drinking? To an extent, yes. But drinking like this? No. He never did this..." "Hmm. That's good. Also potentially bad but for now we'll say good." "How is that-" "It means he already has experience with alcohol. The last thing I wanted to deal with today was an inexperienced drinker drowning themselves into a coma. Looking him over a little closer..." He proceeded to do just that.

"In my unprofessional medical opinion? He's alive, he'll be fine. I suggest putting him right next to the boombox that Hillman provided and blast it at max volume. If that doesn't do it, try freezing cold water. Then after that... I don't know... maybe call another guard and haul him down to the medical wing at that point?" "Gee! Thanks!" He lazily sign languages back 'your welcome', then turns and regards Fenrus. "I'm done. So, what did you want to show me?" "Just hold still!" Before long, after Fenrus makes a long sequence of arcane gestures that most observers would compare to having a seizure, he feels the space surrounding them begin to distort around him. Again he blinks, and when he opens his eyes, he immediately lets out a shiver. All there is to be had is frozen wasteland as far as the eye can see. The sun glints blindingly off of the thick snow that coats the ground. "*Shivers* C-C-Cooollld!!! Where are we!?" "Antarctica!" "H-h-how fffffaaarrr did you teleport us? A-a-and why?" "Don't actually know for sure. But as to the why, just walk a little and you'll see, my c-c-chittering friend!" "Your mockery is not h-helping!"

* A short walk later *

"That's it over there! One off the last ones me and Erasmus built way back when!" A large, stereotypical wizard's hat sat atop snow and ice-covered marble pillars. "W-w-where d-does it g-go?" "An old pocket dimension library of ours. Similar idea to the vacation home in Silmaria, you trigger the bound spell-" "Y-y-yeah, I g-get it. M-m-merlyn did s-something similar. L-l-lets just go!" "Eh. Fine by me." By this point they were standing under the hat. With a wave of his hands, Fenrus triggered a pulse of ancient magics and vanished from view. "O-ok. You c-c-can do t-this." He stood proud, straighting his back out, and focused. "T-T-T, *coughs* No! No! Focus. Trigger!" And once again, with a blink, he was teleported away to a large but barely touched library. The rat quickly scampered up to him, scroll in hand. "G-give me a minute to heat back up." "Sure thing!"

Once a minute had indeed passed, he carefully took the scroll and unfurled it. "And you are sure this is it? This is genuine?" "A hundred percent! I had a hunch you might be interested in it for some reason, looks like I was right! Anyway, look around and take whatever looks interesting to you! Consider it a Christmas gift!"

Around an hour later, he had gathered a collection of around a hundred or so books, journals, and tomes as related to wizardry, rituals, the more scientific aspects of magic, prophecy and future sight, defense against enemy magic, and one tome in particular on the art of effectively teaching magic and magical theory to others. A jackpot of mostly long-lost knowledge on the arcane. He then proceeded to stuff them all unceremoniously into an enchanted burlap sack, one of the fabled 'bags of holding'. Which almost certainly inspired the D&D item and may be related in some way to SCP-109 'the infinite canteen' and similar 'infinite space containers', though not sure about that last one. Especially given the real bags of holding aren't actually infinite, just way bigger on the inside. Eh. Something to think about later. "You got everything you need or found interesting?" "Yep. Mostly, anyway. We'll be here forever if I keep going and just the one bag isn't enough for everything in the library. Thanks for the bag, by the way. This will definitely come in handy." "No problemo. Let's just get out of here! The trip back might be a bit more involved than the trip over here." "Sure." He knew better than to ask why the trip back might take longer. Magic is magic and magic is often confusing garbage. So, it was with much joy he returned to the celebrations, absence mostly unnoticed due to some background leg work by Lee, around an hour later after a surprisingly lengthy but thankfully dull adventure.

{A/N: Thus ends part 1 of the story! The backstory and world building, core characters (for the most part), and the general, broad strokes of the main storyline have been established!}

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

December 28th​

Dear Journal,
This was a gift from the royal scientist and I suppose I shouldn't let it go to waste, so I'll try to keep this updated from now on. But, I was never very good at keeping up a journal. To establish my situation at this time for future reference, I am at Site-19 of the SCP Foundation, specifically the provisional containment wing. Overall, I'd say the place has been relatively quiet the past three days since Christmas. Nothing major has happened to disturb the status quo. Well, mostly nothing. We and by we, I mean the monsters of the underground and myself of course, have received a new friend and the Holidays a new adoptive family member and cell mate. In order to facilitate that, the greater Site was somewhat active today as they received a large shipment of strange mushrooms and less strange human corpses.

In more personal news, I confirmed the authenticity of the ritual scroll for the ritual of the mouth that we recovered from the trip to the antarctic pocket dimension based off the waves of dark magical energy rolling off the thing and a few other key details. It makes me want to shiver. As a general rule, one shouldn't touch stuff like this, dark magic is bad news. But, these are dire circumstances, so hopefully it's forgivable. I also repaid Fenrus keeping his promise to me by keeping my own, and explained how we all ended up with the Foundation. The second major event wasn't really personal, but ended up involving me anyway. So, returning to our new arrival. Formally designated SCP-166, we hadn't considered something very important about her when she was first brought into our wing of the facility... The events that followed were entirely preventable and lead to a lengthy meeting afterwards.

-Earlier that same day.-​

She was brought into the wing with two specially equipped, hazmat-suited guards flanking her on both sides. HWWB couldn't help but grumble a little under his breath, "Can't help but notice none of us are wearing suits. Thanks for making us your guinea pigs, jerks..." He and the others were all gathered in the same lobby/foyer area they had put the tree up in three days ago. Many of the other individuals in provisional containment were either still in their cells asleep or, more commonly, not allowed to leave their cells outside of special situations in the first place. At least a handful of the others were also soundly asleep still, most notably Frisk, Timmy, and Sans. Her entry was only really notable because she and Rudy Holiday (who probably should have been in bed but wasn't) recognized each other immediately. After a few awkward minutes of waiting as her attending guards resolved some issue regarding paperwork with one of the provisional containment guards, she was handed over to whom everybody there knew to be one of the laziest guards assigned to the wing.

In hindsight, he supposed, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that he was the guard that was letting Rudy sneak out. It also shouldn't have come as a surprise that the second he got the chance, he cut her loose rather than continue to escort her to her cell himself. What was and should have been surprising, was that he still had a job. Regardless, 166 took the presented opportunity with glee, and came straight to Rudy and his wife. They had a rather public conversation there and then that was quite emotional that everyone (HWWB included) desperately tried to politely tune out. What came of that conversation was obvious however, when she went around extremely shyly introducing herself to everyone, providing the name Rudy and her had used when talking to each other, Noelle.

Everything seemed to be going great, at first. But that apparently just couldn't last. When she came up to him, he carefully muttered the incantation for true sight under his breath and saw much the same as he saw last time. This time though, he noticed the fact that she practically radiated magic energies of natural and icy disposition (or, to put it another way, nature and ice magic). He quickly dispelled true sight and his thoughts with it with a shake of the head, before shooting her a winning smile. She still approached him somewhat nervously. "I-I think I've seen you before." He nodded. "Well, nice to meet you again. I'm..." Rudy gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze from behind. "You've already done this a few times today, it's okay." "*Takes a sharp breath* I'm Noelle. It's nice to meet you." She reached out her right hand, which he somewhat sleepily mirrored. "Nice to meet you again. I don't actually remember my name, no one does, but everyone calls me by my title, 'He Who Waits Behind', or 'HWWB' for short. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." "I won't." The two part ways to allow her to continue to make introductions, which continue smoothly, the biggest incident being Asgore slightly embarrassing Rudy and the newly christened Noelle by overly-enthusiastically congratulating the both of them. That is, until they come to a certain performer...

"Hi. M-My name is Noelle. Pleasure to meet you." "Why-why-why-why-why-" Two heads immediately look over in concern. "Why hello there, darling. A pleasure to meet you indeed. The fabulous Mettaton is at your service." The duo's hands connect for a handshake, but almost the second they do, Mettaton's body's lights flash off and the bot falls to the ground a sparking mess. "Oh no! What did I do wrong-" "Step aside!" She looks confused at that direction at first but quickly follows it, which is good because Alphys, who has already been introduced to the newcomer, has charged over at shocking speed and scooped the sparking wreckage of the bot up into her arms. HWWB quickly decides that Rudy and the others are better equipped to defuse any trouble that might be brewing with 166- Noelle (it's going to take some time to get used to that.), while he, having read the file, is better equipped to explain the situation and keep everything under control elsewhere.

Later that same day, I finally found Alphys working on Mettaton's robot shell, and it was as I feared. Some kind of vine, of a type unknown to her, had started growing inside the casing and some of the other components had shown sighs of advanced wear that hadn't been present before. In hindsight, recalling what I know of her from her file, I should have seen this outcome coming. She doesn't play very well with complex electronics or machinery, and it doesn't get much more complex then Mettaton's robot body. Regardless, we had a little meeting afterwards, were I explained what I knew about her anomaly and brought up what my true sight had shown me. During that meeting, we talked about a bunch of ideas and possibilities, but came to this conclusion; I'm the oldest person involved right now, and I've actually seen something somewhat similar before. Not anywhere near identical, but similar.

I emphasized that ultimately this is one of those true anomalies that neither magic nor science really can understand. But, with this understanding in mind, I might be able to help her to partially control and limit her abilities. However, this is a double-edged sword, as it would also allow her to use her anomaly with more intent and aggression. Nevertheless, it's vital that she receive some help, if possible, with controlling it. Until that time, or even after depending on how much help I can really be, she is to keep her distance, as much as possible, from Alphys' cell and from Mettaton. Both Toriel (seeking to fulfill a dream of hers, it seems) and I shall also be giving her an education in the fundamental basics of magic, should she accept the offer. In my own time, I intend to discuss religion, as well. I have noticed that Christianity, Islam, Judaism (or the Abrahamic faiths), and the mostly extinct religion of Zoroastrianism share a great deal with the old faith, so I'm interested to get a modern follower's take on things.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

December 31st​

Dear Journal,
The past three days have been extremely eventful for the site as whole from what I have gathered, but the exact opposite for everyone stuck in provisional containment and even more so us. The biggest events didn't even concern us, as the biggest events to hit provisional containment were the dozen plus transfers in and out of the wing. In more personal news, and the reason I am writing this entry, Noelle began her training and education today. I look forward to the potential results it might have, but I'll admit the first day was not exactly promising, albeit not for the reasons one might initially think. She was a very quick study when it came to limiting her anomaly's 'aura', but seemed less able to control how it acted on things she was making actual physical contact with. As for magic, she learns very quickly and is an eager student, but it's clear she's starting from a blank foundation...

-Earlier that same day.-​

"... You are making good progress, I'm impressed, really. But let's take the next step. Since you seem to be getting some idea of how to limit the effect you have on objects in your surroundings, let's see how you do limiting the effect making physical contact with an object." HWWB sets a small watch down on the rock he's using as a table between them. She almost immediately relaxes and feels the nature that seemingly is suffused into the very air around her flow into her core. She then hesitantly picks up the watch. It deconstructs itself into a pile of unworked, weathered metal covered in moss before their very eyes in the span of mere minutes. "...Ah. Well, looks like that idea might not be doable. But, no way to know for sure without trying a few more times."

*Several tries later* "...I suppose it is possible that it might be impossible for now-" "No! I need to be able to control this!" "I said for now, and you didn't let me finish." She glances guiltily at the floor. "As I was saying, it might be impossible for now to control your anomaly with regards to objects you are directly touching, but there's still hope! We can work on how you effect the area around you and we might find insight as we do that, that will help you understand and control it when it comes to touching things too. Ok?" She looks uncertain at first, but her resolve quickly hardens. "Ok. I'll try hard!" *Knocks at the door* "Hmm? What is it?" "Are you done with the first part? Can we move on to her education?" "Ah, right. Of course, Toriel. We just finished up in here, so we can move on." The ex-queen opens the door and hurriedly shuffles in. The expression of excitement and enthusiasm on Noelle's face seems to only make her more eager.

"Ok so... where do we even start?" He turned and looked at his fellow tutor with slightly skeptical eyes. "You're asking me? I've never taught before. How about you, Ms. Tu-Toriel? You've said before you always wanted to teach." She huffs. "Well, I've never had the opportunity before. Also, like I haven't heard that pun on my name before." He rolled his eyes. Fair point, knowing Sans and knowing Frisk, she's definitely heard that pun before. Hmm. "How about we start by establishing what they know already." She snaps her fingers. "Great idea! So! Noelle, what do you know about magic?" The girl clearly was unprepared for this question and spent a long awkward moment scratching her chin in thought. "Well... it exists? Apparently. It can allow you to... do things? Nothing, really." HWWB felt a facepalm coming on. Why, oh creator above, why. After an extended pause, he eventually said, "That's okay, we can work with that."

What followed was a painfully lengthy and mostly dull lecture in which the two of us discussed the core theoretical fundamentals of practical magic without delving too deeply into advanced practical theory or non-practical theory, such as questions like 'what exactly is magic'. Though there was one exception that I made because I felt it was worthwhile to teach a beginner, even if it didn't technically count as practical.

"Alright, you've got the idea on that front?" "Yes ma'am!" "Yes, well forget about it. Erase it from your memory." They turn as one to regard him. "Ex-Excuse me?" "I said forget about what you just learned because there's surprisingly a secret of magic that humanity has retained that most monsters haven't and I'm going to reveal what that is." Toriel squinted hard as she looked at him. "I don't know what you are referring to. This isn't something bad, is it?" "It can be, from a certain perspective. But overall, no. It's just a fact." "Hmm. Okay. Go ahead." They both listened to every word with intense concentration.

"So, you just finished explaining the magical energy, mana or magicka that is infused in everything in reality but strongest in certain objects and in living things. What if I told you that that's just one way to perform magic, and none of the human mages of this day and age do that?" They both looked at him surprised, Toriel more than Noelle. "You see, the cost of magic is at it's most fundamental level, sacrifice. You can sacrifice or 'burn' this mana to achieve magical effects without needing more permanent sacrifices, but the mages of this age don't know that, so they engage in all kinds of sacrifice. Physical, emotional... mental. The biggest and most powerful of arcane spells, rituals, enchantments, and effects are only possible for the majority using both a sacrifice of energy and a more substantial sacrifice. There's an entire, heavily frowned upon, category of magic based around it's cost, blood magic, which involves, surprise surprise, live blood sacrifice of animals and sometimes even people." Toriel looked completely disgusted. "Speaking of categories, there's a bunch of those, but we'll probably get more into that later and it depends on tradition."

Noelle suddenly spoke up, "Tradition?" "Hmm? Oh, right. Yes. Tradition. For that, I'll quote a man who's done research for the Foundation, a Dr. Everett Mann, who was himself unknowingly quoting one of the most famous of the seven sages, Merlyn: 'Magic is magic. There are many, many traditions, and almost no universals. Unless you're talking rituals and spells and such which are made to work for anyone, Potential is different for different kinds of magic. One old pagan tradition may work for you, and another originating from less than fifty miles away may not.' Simple enough to understand?"

Overall, I believe Noelle has immense Potential, but it will definitely take time to refine that into something useful. In other news, we are going to be transferred to Site-17 on January the 30th of next year, or at least that's the plan.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

January 1st​

Dear Journal,
Well, it's a new year. There were some muted celebrations, much quieter then before on the 25th​. In other news, doctor Lee received some great news from an old colleague on the SCP-4666 containment team, and he shared it with Frisk and me. Apparently, following our operation there have been no known Weissnacht events. It seems the Yule Man has gone dark, for possiblly the first time in it's history. In other news, there have been rumors of a GOI attempting and possibly having already succeeded at infiltrating the site. This apparently isn't entirely new (that is to say, it's happened before), but if successful, it would be an example of a very rare occurrence. But the real news is what happened immediately after the three of us had our meeting so he could tell us that good news. Frisk wanted to talk to me, and let's just say I had a distinct suspicion what is was about.

"Wait! ...Can we talk?" He turned back to them after they suddenly spoke up. What's this going to be about? "Yeah, sure. Hit me with whatever it is that's troubling you." Awkward silence reigns for several long moments. "...Or don't, that's fine t-" "SoyouknowhowIcantravelbackintimeandall-" "Kid. Breath. Take your time." They did just that, taking a long, deep breath, before continuing slightly shakily. "So you know how I can or could at least travel back in time and all that stuff? You know, SAVEing, and LOADing, and the one, actually maybe two, RESETs?" He takes a long look at them, trying to figure out why they seem nervous and what they are trying to say. "Yes? What about-" Suddenly he realizes exactly what they said, all of it. "Wait a minute. Back up a minute. 'Could'? What exactly do you mean?"

They glanced around the room, looking everywhere but at his glowing green eyes. "...Ok. Tell you what. I'll start guessing, you nod if I'm right, shake your head if I'm not, ok? Oh! And if I'm partly right but not a 100 percent or something like that where it's not a yes or no question, just shrug, alright?" "...Ok." "Alright. So, I'm guessing that (referring to saying 'could') means you can't anymore?" They shrug. "Hmm. Okay. Alright, so you can't SAVE anymore, then?" They shake their head. "This is ridiculous. Why did I think of this? I know you aren't super comfortable talking a lot but this is... forget it. So, I'm guessing you can't LOAD, then?" Another shrug. "Huh? The heck... Oh. Hurp derp, this idiot (referring to himself), can you answer a question for me, when did whatever this is start?" "...After we were captured."

"Ahh. That explains a few things. Then, in that case, I'll guess you have a limit of some kind on when and how you can SA- no wait, that was already a thing," and unless your name is Devon Aidendale or Graham Cracker, you starred in a series of adventure games by a company called Sierra, and you're in contention for the title for the greatest hero to have ever lived "and as far as I know it always has been." Yeah. No need to mention those two. They were just made of something stronger than most people. "To start again, in that case, I'll guess you must have a limit of some kind on when and how you can LOAD." They nod for the first time, though not without giving him a curious look. "Ok ok. Hmm." In hindsight, should have lead with that. Given the answers to my previous questions, that makes a lot more sense than the previous one anyway. But how are they limited? Maybe they can only do it in a specific place? But wait, then the events back on the 1st​ of December don't make any sense! ...No. Oh heck no. Why? Why is my train of thought going there?

"My guess is... the only way you can LOAD now is by dying, correct?" They shakily nod their head. He sucked in a large breath to steady himself, almost missing what they mutter under their breath. "At least that still works and nothing can kill me kill me, right?" He glared at them. "Kid, look at me. I don't want to be a bummer, but I heard your muttering just now and this is very serious, I need you to understand this, ok?" They looked up at him, practically shaking with how nervous they feel. "The ability to SAVE doesn't make you invincible, immortal, or even immune to being permanently killed. Back in the days of Gloriana, it was a rare ability, but much more common than it is now, where it is basically unique. So because I'm from back then, I have the knowledge from back then of some of it's limitations. It can't protect you completely from going insane, for one, it can't protect you from your own impatience or other flaws, and there are things out there that can kill you permanently in spite of it. Do you understand?" "...Yes." "Good."

We agreed that what we discussed during that conversation never leaves that room. Regardless, I just hope when the moment comes, they remember my advice. Rather or not they do, the other event that happened today (technically a few days ago was when the authorization was signed) which Lee informed us about was that Officer Roberts from the whole mess on the first was being transferred to provisional containment, now that he is back from his leave. Lee said he mentioned it on the off chance it would impact us or that I'd find it interesting. Which I did, so good intuition on him, I guess. Before we get transferred out of Site-19 there's a particular item, an anomaly, that I want to get my hands on for more reasons than one. I want to help the Foundation neutralize it and in so doing put a restless spirit to rest in the process. Unfortunately, today was the day I was officially informed that my involvement is unwanted, so doing this the easy way is impossible. Fortunately, I have a backup plan I'm working on.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

January 21st​

Dear Journal,​
It's been quiet, too quiet. But I suppose it can't be all chaos all the time. We have had two more lessons with Noelle, and she seems to be a quick learner. I would not be surprised if we will have managed to get her anomalous effect limited to whatever she's directly touching and moved on to actually seeing her try and use some magic by this time February. The biggest news though concerns my aforementioned plan, as thanks to my unique privileges and a trust-worthy (I think) friend amongst the Foundation, I have received a delivery of a particular object that will be important to my plan's success...​

-Earlier that day-​​

"So... remind me again, HWWB, why do you need a Puzzle Cube?", Lee asked the floating pink vaguely humanoid cloud. The cloud acquires a facial feature resembling a smirk before loudly chuckling in response. "Oh doctor Lee... that's for me to know and you to find out." The good doctor's teeth grinding together was almost audible. "Do you like doing the whole smug and mysterious routine like this?" "Sometimes! Other times not so much. Here's a hint, since you seem so frustrated; search for any anomalies you think might be related to this object I requested, then look up the missing persons files related to Mount Ebott, particularly the kids. Then take special note off the names; notice anything?"​

Regardless, now I just need to go to where what I'm looking for is stored. Except, that's not so easy because I need a cover of some kind. Fortunately, I'm quite certain that will resolve itself. Those rumors of an infiltrator that were circulating? Now they have only gotten louder and more persistent, and I think I can confirm them being a hundred percent true. I think, because the thing about future sight, foretelling the future, prophecy (especially prophecy), and that whole family of arcane and non-arcane disciplines is that, while magic, as I explained to Noelle, often makes very little sense as it is inherently confusing and unpredictable, with no true universals at the fundamental level aside from sacrifice and mana, that family of disciplines takes the cake and makes even less sense. ​

Any result you get from that set of disciplines will, unless it's from one of the magical disciplines, be all three of: vague to the point of uselessness, low accuracy, and incomplete in nature (that is, missing key details). The only exceptions are the magical varieties, and even they suffer from all three, just usually not all at once. Once you understand that, you understand why I can't be completely sure, but I'm fairly confident that the Foundation has indeed been infiltrated, and whoever is the infiltrator, they are planing something big. They also have a complication coming their way that will accelerate their plans to happen before we get shipped to Site-17. So, I'm adapting my plan around this knowledge. Is this dangerous? Very, you can never really predict how individual people will act, but even so if all goes to plan, I'll have what I want with the Foundation none the wiser, the infiltrator will be captured, and all it might cost is a single life. That last one doesn't feel great, but it's not a guarantee and if I try to stop it my best prediction, magical and non-magical, is that the infiltrator will do more damage. ​

So, that said, I'm not really a manipulative mastermind type, never have been. But this might well be a worthy exception. I'm not going to lay my whole plan out here, just in case, but I've got a good feeling about this. Of course, even if successful, we will only be an eighth of the way to achieving the goal I have in mind. And this might be impossible anyway. But, if it is possible, then the kid and I are in agreement; we can't let them suffer if we can bring them peace. ​

-January 18th​-​​

"You and I are going to have a chat. Come with me." They were surprised by his sudden outburst and simply nod their head in response. A short while later in a private room, he starts the conversation again. "Ok, so... back on the first of December you mentioned you hear them sometimes?" They hesitantly shake their head. "What exactly do you mean by that? Actually, don't bother. I already know." They aren't really surprised to hear that, but quietly ask what he's talking about anyway. He proceeds to calmly explain how SOULs that were preserved after death can continue to persist afterwards​ as various types of wandering or stationary spirits, exactly how they have been followed or haunted by the spirits of the other fallen children and how they had 'attached' their spirits to them. "That's about the gist of it. Did I get anything wrong about your specific case, kid?" They shake their heads, still slightly stunned that he knew everything, and wondering why he had brought it up now. ​

"Well then kid, what if I told you I know how to put their spirits to rest?" Now they were really shocked. "No way." "Yes way, but it's complicated. I can't just mutter a few magic words and make them leave you alone. ...Actually, if I was a Paladin, I could, but turning spirits and putting them to rest isn't the same thing. I'm working on a plan for one of them right now. I wanted your opinion; if it's an option, you agree with me that they shouldn't be made to suffer anymore, right?" They nod, complete confidence burning in their eyes. Learning that there's still hope for them receiving their final rest fills you with DETERMINATION. ​

Honestly, the look in the kid's eyes was incredibly intense, made me feel small for a minute there. But even so, it's good to know they agree. The fate of those kids is the epitome of tragedy, it hurts thinking about what they suffered and must be suffering.​

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

The song in this update was heavily inspired by Ambush and Lyin 2 Me by Dagames and CG5. Carbon copied in certain areas.

Spoiler: Ambush

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=illDezNzl0M

Spoiler: Lyin 2 Me

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PShRULA8sOY

January 28th​

Dear Journal,
I'm honestly not sure where to even start with this utter chaos, other than: the plan was a complete and total success! But the way it played out was... extremely unfortunate. I was correct that at least one fatality was inevitable, sadly. It is just fortunate it was discovered when it was and how it was.

-Earlier that day, specifically 1:35 p.m.-​

Frisk could hardly believe their eyes. The still warm body of one of the security guards, specifically the guard that was supposed to be on duty patrolling the section of provisional they were in, lay face down in a puddle of blood, knife lodged right between the shoulder blades. They shake themselves to banish the other and the creeping sensation of panic. As quickly as possible, without breaking into a run, they dart away and find their adoptive mother, HWWB, and another guard having a conversation as they walk to wherever it is they are going. The guard spots them immediately. "Hey, kid! You aren't supposed to leave your cell! I'm calling this in-" Toriel, however, cuts him off, "He's quite right. You aren't supposed to be wandering around. Here, take my hand and I'll walk you back, no need to report this, right, Sir?" The guard looks genuinely intimidated by the glare she shoots him. "Uhh, right..."

HWWB, however, who has been observing and thinking, suddenly speaks up. "Hold up. How are they here, right now? Isn't there a guard, actually two guards, on duty in the section you two are held in? Shouldn't they have caught them?" He glances towards Toriel as he asks. "Well, good question actually. I'm sure they just snuck by the guard, they can't be everywhere at once, correct?" "Hmm. Perhaps, but regardless I think they're trying to tell us something." He motioned lazily to them pointing in a panicked fashion towards the direction of the dead body. "I suggest we follow them." And so a minute later the three come to the grisly scene, which by now has been found by the other guard on duty in the section, which just so happened to be Security Officer Roberts.

"Roberts! Where were you-" "Oh, thank goodness you guys are here. I was just about to call this in." "Right, that's the proced- oh dear God, that's a lot of blood. *Shakes head* But I repeat, where were you earlier? You missed check-in at 1:00" "Hmm? Oh, sorry, I got held up by the little delinquent duo at home. But back to the matter hand we should report this, right?" Delinquent Duo, huh? At this, HWWB spoke up again, quickly and decisively taking control of the situation. "Go ahead and report this to whoever you report to, but also, gather everyone and I mean everyone, in the central area. Same place we put the tree up back during Christmas. Toriel, in case it wasn't obvious, we'll have to postpone that lesson with Noelle." At this, he suddenly leans in and whispers to her, "Tell Alphys the plan is good to go, she'll understand what that means." Backing away again, the guard eyes him suspiciously before shrugging and nodding. "You aren't in charge here, but sure, we'll see what we can do. Right, Josiah?" Surprisingly, he hesitates for a moment. "Ehh, I don't know we could get in big trouble. Maybe we should just-" "Bob. It'll be fine, we should probably check on everyone anyway." He hesitantly nods, and once he's supposedly called in the body, the four of them split to begin rounding everyone up. At least, supposedly all four of them do.

It was a full hour before we saw each other again at the main area. Everyone was gathered up in one place who would be gathered without severe negative consequences, including all of the guards. At first it was calm as the situation was explained, it even stayed calm as the swirling rumors were brought up, at least at first. But then one of the anomalies in provisional, a literal cat that can speak English, accused Frisk of being the intruder, and all hell broke loose. ...We had another poorly timed musicality incident, which no one knows what is causing that. Someone needs to figure it out.

"I'm telling you it's the kid!" "No way, it's one of the guards!" "How about it's one of you weirdos, huh!?" "It's one of the monsters!" "Yeah, it's got to be, it's in their name!" "Just look at 'em!" Says the extremely hairy man who's hunchback is so bad it literally classifies as anomalous... *Sigh Internally* By this point, HWWB has had about enough of this garbage, and violently slams his hands down on the table in front of him as he clears his metaphorical throat with a load cough. "Enough!" "Sounds like it's you to me!" "Hah heh, if it was me, you wouldn't be saying that right now." "What!" "Because...

🎵I've got that poker face that
moves in and out of traces.
Blind to the eyes of a coward
trying to defy the empowered.
Oh, fate, would you look at them?
They're suspect to the blame.
They all forgot my name.
But I'm smooth, I've got nothing to prove🎵

"Who you calling a coward!?" "You sound like the intruder to me!" "What do you mean you've got nothing to prove!?" "If I may have your attention?" All eyes swivel to the guard that escorted HWWB and Toriel earlier. "Thank you. I believe what he means to say is his innocence will prove itself, which it will. He, the fine lady over there, and myself were together from 1:00 until the time the body was found." "So what!?" "It was still warm when we found it, so it couldn't have been any of us." HWWB eyes pan sympathetically over the monsters in the assembled crowd.

🎵We may never escape
this is the fate
that I sealed for us.
But I'm gonna get us out,
but not like this, not today🎵

Suddenly, a pair of new guards ran in supporting the injured frame of a familiar fish-faced monster. He could hear a voice near him gasp out, "Undyne..." He gave her a pat on the shoulder and reassured her "Everything will be alright." He then turned his attention back to the two men hefting her on their shoulders. "Found her trying to walk here by herself with that massive injury you see, I think around 1:50. Applied first aid and carted her over as fast as we could." "And before any of you ask, we just stumbled on her like this and we've been together since our shifts started at nine." "Can anyone confirm that!?" "I can say they were together at 1:00." "I saw them at 1:40!"

🎼We're gathered in the ring of fire,
'cause one of us just happened to become retired.
We can speculate, correlate,
one of us would navigate.
Not trying to damper on the one we hate.
Come on, help a brother,
cast judgement on another.🎼

One of the guards was caught completely off balance. "Huh? Josiah!?" HWWB stared for an awkward moment then pointed at Undyne.

🎵Well, if it's alright with you, I got a dying crew.
So don't skip, don't flip, keep that stiff upper lip.
I've been around the block, only know to well
villain spies are looking to shed our blood.
Are you the one creeping 'round,
or can you prove your innocence?🎵

"I mean, I'm totally innoc-"

🎵SAVE IT!
Don't go lyin to me!
I saw a body lyin there!
So don't go lyin to me!
We haven't the time to listen to drivel.
Or to sling around false blame.
No, oh no, we got to keep it civil.
Else, soon it'll be such a shame,
when we start dropping like flies.
I ain't gonna let there be,
no more dying, no more dying,
so don't go lyin to me!
Guess we gotta, gotta do a triple check.🎵

"Wha-" "What are you talking about!?" The panic was clear and obvious in their voices and faces. Though, he noticed one particular figure, the same one who joined his possessed little number, Roberts, didn't look particularly panicked at all. He also noticed that they were steadily inching away from the spot they were previously standing and towards... something? He wasn't sure what honestly.

🎵Listen to me, listen now.
Lend me your ears.
Let me lay it out easy
so to lessen all your fears.
Just living and watching,
not about to let you down.
Let's look at this logically, figure this out.
We can likely verify each other's alibis.
No need to allegate, litigate, itemize lies.🎵

The storm of people talking over each other that immediately followed was impressive to behold, but eventually, after a titanic struggle to get everything under control, everyone present had an alibi confirmed by at least two other people. Everyone... except Roberts.

🎵Was it you who took them were it hurts!?🎵

🎼 It's time to come clean.
I know how hard it's been to trust in me.
I have no alibi, no matter how hard I tried.
GOTTA HIT THEM WHERE IT HURTS, NOW!!!🎼

He moved inhumanely fast for brief period, and before anyone could react, he had what he wanted in his grip. The gasp that escaped one of the monsters was extremely telling. "...T-Timmy!?" *Click* "No one move a muscle in my direction or his head pops like a watermelon." Of course, stupid, stupid. That's what or rather who he was shuffling towards. He shot a glance over at Frisk, and that glance told him all he needed to know. Good and extremely bad at the same time. As the guards started moving towards the infiltrator, he threw a hand up towards them. "What!?" "Don't move." "...Forget that. You may care about the kid, but we don't! We are taking his ass down!" "You know why you should care?" "Why?" "Because if that kid dies, I give my personal guarantee everyone in this building dies with him." "Yeah, of course we-" The sarcastic comeback was silenced by the sheer, stark honesty burning in his eyes.

"Well... we are still calling this in, if that's all right mister whoever you are?" "That is not acceptable." "...Ok." HWWB spoke up, a question on his mind; "You aren't actually Roberts, are you?" "Of course I'm Roberts. Whatever gave you that idea." He just stared blankly at him. "Ok yes, obviously I'm not actually him. Satisfied?" "For now. Actually, I was hoping you would negotiate regarding certain things..." "Maybe, but regardless of rather or not I do, I need your help." "Oh? With what?" "I don't actually know where my target is. That's part of what I was supposed to find out, but..."

"But let me guess, the dead guard overheard you making a call to your superiors, which you tried to pass off as a call to 'your' kids but you slipped up and said you had two kids while the guard that caught you actually knew Roberts and knew he actually had three, requiring you to silence him. Except Undyne here caught you trying to dispose of evidence after the fact, possibly after Toriel, that guard there, and I saw you near the body, which wound up forcing the plan to happen early. Correct, yes?" He could faintly hear the aforementioned injured warrior struggle to say something before letting out a hacking cough. The infiltrator before him looked stunned. "...Correct. How did you guess that?" "For the error you made that got you caught at least, you made the exact same error earlier, right around when we met up you referred to Robert's kids as a delinquent duo. Everything else was either deduction or, as I said, a lucky guess." "...Ah."

It turned out that, fortunately, he actually was willing to negotiate. He swapped Timmy for Frisk as his hostage and agreed to both allow a single guard to come with us and wear a coat he could conceal his weapon under while still keeping it leveled to avoid suspicion. Of course, unknown to him, Frisk and I had worked out a signal of sorts for the operation to Mount Alexandria, which could double for this situation. Also unknown to him, the second we departed, the idiots back at provisional did their best to ruin everything for everyone by reporting the full extent of the situation. Fortunately, they encountered Alphys' part of the plan: a radio jammer, assembled in a manner sufficient to make MacGyver jealous. They would fail to find it long enough for my plan to be complete.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

For information on song inspiration, see previous part.

I'll tell you now, I was incredibly nervous. I mean, just think about all the countless ways this could have gone wrong! Just one obvious example, Frisk was in dire danger! Though actually, not really, given this wasn't one of those things that could kill them in spite of their ability to RESET. So I guess at least that's one possibility most in a similar situation would be thinking of that I didn't have to. But while that may have been the case, there were still countless ways this could go wrong. I was playing a dangerous game here, and just hoping I wasn't going to get burned. I'm thankful it worked out in the end. ...Still curious what's causing the random singing like we're in some musical...

"You do realize we don't have long, right?" HWWB slightly nervously asked the infiltrator. "What do you mean?" "I mean, the security's going to get a message out about what you did someway eventually. So we need to move. I wouldn't be surprised if all the guards already know." He simply smirks and hums something under his breath. "What was that? Didn't quite catch that." He responded by singing, still quietly but louder than before:

🎼I worked hard to blend between the cracks
and will not be denied the prize.
I've taken many lives,
by the holy knife!
Sacrifices for our Scarlet Lord!🎼

HWWB mentally rolled his eyes. Oh great, you're a slightly higher functioning then normal suicidal nut job. Just peachy. They continued to discuss, if that word can be considered accurate, as they briskly walked through the halls. "I hate to burst your bubble, but that isn't actually a response or rebuttal to my point." HWWB continues to lead the way, and they rapidly encountered their first security checkpoint since leaving Containment. The thoroughly bored looking guard were used to seeing HWWB by now, granted he usually had a slightly larger escort, but with three guards usually being the minimum, the downgrade to two didn't arouse much suspicion. They cleared the checkpoint in almost record time after an extremely cursory check. The infiltrator's face wore a large, cocky smirk, even as they carefully controlled their volume to not be overheard as they sang.

🎼And yet they won't see it coming that
I'm the one who takes the dagger to their backs!
It's me who's got that poker face that
moves in and out of traces.
Blind to the eyes of a coward
trying to defy the true empowered.
I'm a pretender in my own game.
Be careful of wandering eyes.
In time we will ambush the priiiiiize!🎼

They continued even further forward, passing two more checkpoints and some patrolling guards without incident. Then, finally, they came to the entrance to where HWWB's prize was located: Safe-class containment wing. Much like provisional, Safe-classes' security isn't usually quite as drastic as it is for the general Site Security, Euclid wing or Keter wing (each of which, HWWB and the infiltrator alike had come to learn, collectively and almost universally individually as well, took their job extremely seriously), which is extremely fortunate for HWWB as if it was anywhere near that stringent then he wouldn't be able to get away with pulling the stunt he had been trying to pull at the time. As it was, as they approached, a whispered terse conversation began between the four off them, minus Frisk, which ended with him shooting the extra 'for believability' guard a death glare as the infiltrator nervously holstered their gun.

If his only objective was to get them all out alive and get the infiltrator apprehended, this in theory was the perfect opportunity. In practice though, he kept the kid far too close for comfort, with a hand resting on his knife's concealed sheath. He had already seen the uncanny speed the infiltrator was capable off, he didn't want to agitate him just yet. Besides, he had other objectives.

We got through every security checkpoint up to the Safe-class wing entrance without them even searching us once. I'm still not sure how we got away with that. Regardless, once we did get there, they did search us. I didn't exactly have many places to hide things in the conventional sense; it was just my self and a fresh pair of overalls with a single large pouch-pocket. So they quickly dismissed me when all they found in said pocket was an empty bag. Also fortunately, the infiltrator in no way tipped them off that he wasn't Roberts, and neither did any of the rest of us, so his gun cleared just fine. A while later we were finished and had made it in! Unfortunately, not everything can go to plan, and in this case, an overly ambitious researcher with a weird puzzle obsession would make sure of that... Though I suppose even the part that didn't go to plan was in some ways lucky, given where exactly it occurred.

"Are you sure you've got the solution to this puzzle?" "Oh please, Von Braun! SCP-1997 is going to prove to be no match for me!" The unfamiliar man in a lab coat motioned to another lab coated man familiar to HWWB only by name and photograph with a sheaf of what looked like photos of way more advanced forms off the sort of puzzles Papyrus liked; maze games, junior jumble, word scrambles, crosswords, crypto puzzles, and other things you found in the back half of newspapers and some magazines and catalogues. The infiltrator suddenly suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, and as he did so made a snapping sound that caught HWWB's attention. "What? What's the problem?" He lets out a long laugh filled with obvious malicious intent.

🎼Our victory is rest assured,
for I have taken time to infiltrate,
they're all my dirty bait!
But the room is filled with lies!
What a surprise!
How the tables go a turniiiiiing!🎼

"Ahh, in non-song speak please?" "You mislead me. Ha ha ha, *sigh*, should of seen it coming, really." "What are you talking about?" The infiltrator drew his arm out of his coat and directly pointed his pistol at Frisk's head "You think I'm... that we're stupid? We may not have known where exactly the target is, but we know enough to eliminate most of the places it isn't. Safe-class is one of them. During the briefing they covered some potential signs we were aware of that could help me with keeping my orientation. Just so happened that 1997 was one of them. We know SCP-1997 is in Safe-class containment. We also know that all of the photocopies and such are also kept in Safe-class, so don't bother trying to say we just happened to overhear them talking about it without being in that wing. You mislead me!" The entire time the infiltrator was talking, HWWB had been scooting away towards a conveniently-situated nearby wall alarm.

He thought well I guess it's now or never, as he took his right 'thumb' and put it on his nose while wriggling the other fingers of his right hand at the same time as he took his left hand and rubbed what would be the rough equivalent of his belly. The infiltrator stared at him, ironically enough, like any person would look at a crazy person, building rage completely vanishing and replaced with utter confusion. "Uhh, are you having a seizure or something?" Frisk however, recognized their signal and immediately twisted around in his grip, got his mouth in position, and clamped down on the infiltrator's gun holding arm. "Argh! Ahh! You little shit!" In mere moments, Frisk had broken free, and HWWB had crossed the gap between the alarm and himself. The infiltrator moved to aim at Frisk, but before they could line up their shot the escorting guard tackled him.

🎵Hands on the buzzer,
Intruder Alert!
Gotta let them know,
there's been a homicide inside this site.
Emergency! Intruder Alert!🎵

With a huff, he threw the plastic case up, hit a few smaller buttons (defining alert type and priority), and finally punched the big button. A repetitive alarm klaxon soon began blaring around almost the entire facility. He quickly turned as the infiltrator tossed the guard off of himself as he rose to take aim anew. He was incredibly fast, popping off three shots in rapid succession. But, HWWB was simply a little faster. He quickly put himself between the gun and Frisk and shouted, "Protect me, o raging winds! Uvelenor's Missile Fend!" A sudden sharp gust of wind slashed through the otherwise still air of the Foundation Site's hallway, so sharply and powerfully in fact, that it would wind up throwing the bullets off of their deadly course. Before the infiltrator got the chance to shoot again, the guard he had thrown off himself before distracted him by grabbing ahold off one of his ankles and pulling him down. The two were soon wrestling on the ground, gun kicked aside at some point. A mere handful of minutes later, the locations was swarming with security. Of course, Frisk and HWWB had already slipped away in the confusion by then.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

For information on song inspiration, see part one. Also, please note that this part is not necessarily a particularly accurate depiction of lock picking, or meant to be, for that matter.

Of course, while the security was busy sorting out the... complication, we were busy trying to make sure our window to use this as cover didn't disappear. I already feared that window might be gone. Later on, I would learn from a summary report of this entire incident that certain other events would transpire to ensure it remained open for a short time more. Of course, what the report told me was information I could already guess.

The two of them carefully but rapidly slipped past a panning security camera. Then, out off nowhere, they hear a huge, slightly muffled *boom*, like an explosive going off. They share a glimpse and pick up the pace, arriving just in time to spot a trio of men in red-tinged body armor and a man in scarlet robes holding his head muttering something. The robed individual suddenly snapped straight up and made a hand gesture. Three of the four strange men then retreated back through the noticable hole in the thick concrete walls of Site-19's Euclid wing, the other disappearing entirely from view. Unable to really do much about what they had seen, other then observe the fact that they had seen it and so had the security cameras, they continued forward. Then, after roughly a minute of careful, stealthy movement, they entered a room with rows of lockers. There, sitting in front of the duo, is the location of the prize they are after: a simple blue storage locker with both a rotary dial lock and a very standard cylinder lock keeping the heavy door sealed shut, as well as a key card reader, just for some extra overkill. It was the same as the others in the room, save for the plate on the door identifying it as the locker for "SCP-2053".

HWWB promptly dropped his supposedly empty bag, bearing a strange blackish purple rune, and fished out a pair of rubber gloves(which he promptly put on before continuing; even though he doesn't actually have fingerprints, better safe then sorry), a torsion wrench (borrowed from Alphys, the other part of her contribution to the plan), a strange looking box (which he mounted to the locker/safe door with a simple fridge magnet like 'snap'), and a stethoscope like contraption. He then turned to Frisk. "You still got that hair pin that guard slipped you that one time?" They nod, before fishing said hair pin out of a spot in their slightly messy hair where they concealed it at the checkpoint. "Thanks! That make things a little easier." He first fiddled with the box, before detaching it and handing Frisk the torsion wrench. "Here. You've done this at least once with trickier, simpler tools, right? Work on the cylinder while I work on the dial."

They nod and hop to work as he puts the stethoscope like device up to the door and spins the dial three times counter-clockwise, listening intently. "Hmm. Interesting." A little while later, they both finish, a *ker-chunk* being heard as he puts in the last number on the dial. "...Ok. Can I see that hair pin again? Or do you have a particularly thick paperclip or..." They hand him the pin. He quickly slides it in besides where the card reader is mounted, before sliding it up until encountering resistance, then rotating it as he continues pushing up into the resistance. The door to the locker pops open, bringing with it a sense of relief and finality. Inside they find... "...Not going to lie, I was expecting more." HWWB scoffed a little at that as he examined the Rubik's Cube and flashdrive contained within. "Trust me, there's far more here then meets the eye."

Of course, once we finally had the prize in sight, the kid was a little underwhelmed. But I wasn't, because I confirmed what I had suspected: there was a human spirit bound to the object, one that would be critical at bringing another lost spirit peace.

"...All right. If you say so." They shrugged while he reached for his bag. He calmly gathered his tools back up and returned them to the bag, before carefully pulling two more objects, each identical to the ones in the locker at first glance, both out of said bag. He then swapped the two cubes out, then the two flash drives, before carefully putting the flashdrive he had claimed in the bag. Just as he was about to place the cube into the bag, he paused and... finished in style:

🎵I've got that poker face that
moves in and out of traces.
Blind to the eyes of a coward
trying to defy the empowered.
Oh, fate, would you look at them?
They're suspect to the blame.
They all forgot my name.
I won this tragic game.
They could not suss me out.
The prize is now miiiiiine!🎵

As he finished, he flourished the cube for dramatic effect, before putting it in the bag. "...Well then. Shall we?" After HWWB closes the door and resets the locks to the same state they were in when the two entered, and with an exchanged nod, the two of them exit.

After we got what we had come for, we slipped out and back to provisional containment. After the fact, I would learn that we had indeed succeeded beyond my wildest dreams, but in that moment I was slightly terrified someone would get suspicious and ask questions. But, no one did. It seems the Foundation or at least the relevant staff, uncharacteristically, made a very bad assumption, which was that after hitting the alarm the two of us went back to provisional on our own. Without doing anything else first, obviously. So they won't know that anything is wrong until it's already too late, and even better once they figure it out, they're more likely to blame the nut jobs, not us.

{A/N:This part was originally going to be included in part 2, but it ran a little too long for my taste, so I chopped it up into two parts, making for a total of three.}

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

January 29th​

Dear Journal,
It seems that in light of yesterday's... unpleasantness, the decision has been made to move us to our new housing/containment arrangements a day early. This, rather obviously, means that we will be transferred out of Site-19 to Site-17. The exact method through which that is going to happen is apparently something we, the ones being transported, don't need to know until the very moment they're loading us up. Hmm? Ah, that would be them. It's time to go. I'll just continue this entry later, that should do it for now.

-Later that same day- ​

The sun glares down onto HWWB's 'forehead' and into his eyes, temporarily blinding him as he steps off the ramp of the helicopter that transported him and what personal belongings of his the Foundation curiously allowed him to keep, which was surprisingly, most of it, save any enchanted items whose true nature he hadn't been able to conceal. In his 'hands' as he does so, is a mess of bags that contain important items he doesn't trust the Foundation's personnel with, one recent acquisition in particular being carefully handled. His eyes slowly sweep the structures around the helipad, taking in his home to be for the immediate future. He doesn't get long to continue pondering his new surroundings, however, before a familiar face makes itself known. "Oh my gosh, you've got to see this place their taking us! It's such an upgrade! D-d-did you hear t-those rumors that they built it all just f-f-for u-u-us!? Oh! You've got to see the lab it's amazing!"

"Yes, I'm sure it is, but if you've already seen it-" "ItshugeandbetterequippedtheneventheoneIhadbackundergroundcourseitismissingafewthingsbutwhocaresitissoawesomeyoujustgottosee-" She finally noticed the look of bemused frustration he had been shooting her since just after she started ranting and cuts herself off. "Relax. I'm sure it's incredible and I know this a little rich coming from me given my own tendencies to rant a bit, but Breath a little, eh?" She sheepishly nods, very slight embarrassment plain on her face. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's where the kid gets it from... "So, you already got the tour?" "Yep!" "Well, how about you show me and these fine gentlemen *motions to D-Class personnel handling his minimal, less important luggage* where I can put down my bags, then?" Another nod and the arrival of his intended escort/tour guide later, and the procession was underway.

It didn't take long to arrive at the brand new 'Special low-risk classifications' wing, i.e. their place of imprisonment. He couldn't help but gasp when he first laid eyes on the building. "...And they built that. In two months plus some spare time? Yikes." "Yeah. Isn't it great?" "It'll sure beat a tiny cave, that's for sure." His impression of the outside of the building was that it was huge, but that opinion only strengthened as he got the tour. An almost complete research lab, genuinely better equipped and larger then the lab Alphys enjoyed as chief scientist back underground, a large well-furnished kitchen and dining area, a smallish but large enough gardening area, a tiny target range that he joked was about the size of a supply closet if it was stretched out for the range itself and really was maybe about three times that, a nice large-sized library with good selection, a functional looking gym, and even individual 'cells', rather then the group cells some of them got stuck with before, each large enough and furnished enough to handle more people if they wanted to be together and to be charitably called a 'room' rather then a 'cell'.

This place really did find space for everything, it was nice. Heck, there wasn't even any kind of automated surveillance watching their every move at all hours of the day, though HWWB suspected that had more to do with being practical regarding a particular individual rather than them being nice. It was almost enough to make one forget that this place was a prison. Almost. Only almost, because he noted several things, 'features' that were almost certainly meant to make it easier to keep them contained. For one, certain doors were secured by key card readers, most notably the firing range, gym, and lab. His escort explained that they would open to pretty much any level of access, so any of the staff could get in, but amongst those being contained here only certain ones would be granted cards that are only good in this building and even then, only for certain locks. The second was that there is only one main entrance to the building, plus a fire escape. Both exits are conveniently in the line of sight and fire of two well positioned watchtowers, each mounting what looked to him like heavy machine guns. He had little doubt they would be manned at all times.

As he ponders what he's learned this far, he has a flimsy bit of plastic shoved through his hand. After a grunt and a second to focus on making said hand solid, a second attempt goes more successfully. The tour guide looks at him seriously. "Don't lose that. It's your ID. Believe I explained that earlier. Good day." The tour guide exited with a curt nod at the two of them, to which he gave an equally stiff nod back, before glancing at the card in his hand and feeling a metaphorical eyebrow raise. Omni-Access... Huh.

Alphys and I wound up being the first two delivered to our new residence. So... Site-17. I remember reading about it during my far-seeing, apparently, they mainly handle low-risk humanoid anomalies here. If so, no wonder they were chosen, they make a good fit. Regardless, I discovered that I am the only one to have received Omni-Access. Alphys was the only other one to receive lab access, which is good because it's not really like anyone else was going to use the place for much anyway, Frisk was the only other one to receive firing range access, and along with Undyne and most of the ex-royal guard, also received gym access, which I'm fairly confident the kid and I are special in the Foundation's eyes only due to MTF membership. What else... oh right, kitchen access. A whole bunch of people received that, which thankfully did not include Undyne or Papyrus, so somebody in this organization most have some clue what they are doing. Then fire escape access, which is just me and weirdly enough, Gerson, who only got fire escape access. Though I will say that if there is anyone here, other then myself, I trust to have that and not be a complete idiot with it, it's Gerson. Then there's the weirdest part of all of this. The reason those cards are necessary?

They're giving us the run of the place. They aren't even assigning guards, outside of any on the towers outside. So within the confines of the building, short of trying to kill or 'terminate', as they felt the need to phrase it, each other, we are free to do whatever we want. I... was not expecting that and I'm kinda wondering what blackmail Julanar (I'm assuming this is mostly her work) had on the rest of the 05 or alternatively the Site Director to make this happen. Because it's gotta be some juicy stuff.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

Object report: Anomalous Downed Space or Aircraft

As of yesterday, February 1st​ 2020, the research team has completed it's initial testing of a highly advanced craft clearly designed for space or atmospheric flight. The technology employed in the craft is far superior to any technology currently employed by humanity, despite being quite old.

° Location, time, and situation of discovery

The craft was first discovered at ~1:00 p.m. GMT on January 18th​ by an american couple vacationing abroad in the United Kingdom. They discovered the craft wedged in the side of a castle rock beneath Nottingham castle and roughly 5 yards away from the 'Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem' Pub, in the Nottinghamshire county area. The couple was startled by the discovery, and reported it to the local authorities. An informant quickly learned of the discovery, and informed our agent. The rest of the surrounding site where the craft was discovered was quickly determined to be non-anomalous in nature and left intact to be examined by the proper authorities at a later date, while a field team was able to contain and recover the craft before any further individuals could witness it.

° The Craft and it's age

The craft in question is a small roughly pod-shaped two-seater with what appears to be a much more advanced form of an otherwise fairly conventional chemical rocket type thruster jutting out the back. It includes what seem to be complex control computers with keypads in an unknown, thus far indecipherable, possibly hieroglyphic, language. The craft's age could not by itself be determined by carbon dating or material testing; however, one of the seats inside contained a dead carcass, which could be roughly aged. Said body had many similarities to human remains and several surprisingly intact blond hair follicles, after a DNA test, reveal about as much relation or at least shared DNA, to modern Homo sapiens as Homo neanderthalensis had, or rather at least is theorized to have had. The skeletal structure also matches a human male of Caucasian descent, with only a single notable difference: thickness of the skull in the forehead area. Using known methods for the dating of human bodies, reveals that the craft and it's occupant have been on earth for between 800 and 850 years, with the most likely amount of time spent on earth falling between 828 and 830 years ago, which just so happened to be between 1192 and 1194 A.D., which happens to coincide with the capture and detainment of England's king Richard the 1st​.

Further research into the craft, it's sole occupant, and it's advanced technology, are ongoing.


ATTENTION: Regarding updates to threat assessments for GoI 0001 and 0024, ongoing special investigation into major ritual working undergone by GoI 0024.

This memo goes out to all operatives and specialists involved with the previously mention GoIs. The Foundation's general threat assessment of both of these organizations has changed quite substantially. Regarding GoI 0001, or the 'Chicago Spirit', the organization is no longer to be considered liquidated and investigation into the new form of the organization, the so-called 'Chicago Spectre', is to begin immediately. Meanwhile, regarding GoI 0024, the 'Children of the Scarlet King', in light of recent events and revelations, their threat assessment has been moved from a low-priority threat to a maximum, potential end of the world threat, on par with the likes of GoI 0004, the Church of the Broken God, GoI 0003, the Chaos Insurgency, and the myriad different organizations lumped under the collective umbrella of Sarkic cults. Furthermore, such an incident cannot be allowed to happen again. To prevent it from recurring in the future, all available resources, as should be listed in the attached file, are being assigned to an already ongoing investigation into the nature of the ritual performed by this GoI.


Update: No Doctor Bright, you are not allowed to do that, revision number 5001.
In light of ethics committee/human resources complaints, we have been forced to once again update the guidelines for what constitutes acceptable behavior for our most... difficult employee. So, no, doctor. Attempting to forcefully 'groom' a fellow employee with a hedge trimmer (or anything for that matter) without their consent is not ok. It constitutes harassment and in many if not most countries, assault with a deadly weapon.

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

February 3rd​

After many trials and tribulations, we, and by we I mean Toriel and I, finally got around to our previously scheduled lesson with Noelle. The new facilities we have access to, particularly the gym and library, are a notable upgrade over our previous arrangements, and we had and continue to have more flexibility regarding when these lessons take place. But, that second one is just the thing; certainly we have more flexibility, but we're also all busier than before and so that flexibility gives us lots of room to come up with excuses and such. While last month we managed four lessons and made a frankly startling amount of progress, I suspect that going forward, progress and number of lessons will slow. Even so, I believe that Noelle, Meri Clef, SCP 166, or whatever you wish to call her, given that she's made it quite clear she's not overly attached to any particular name, will have full control of her anomalous effect on technology, save technology she directly touches, either by the end of this month or by the beginning of next month. If that declaration didn't make it clear enough, that part has been going well.

-Earlier that day-​

"Remember, focus on not allowing that primeval force inside of you out, ok?" After she gave him a slightly hesitant nod, he moved to withdraw a mobile phone from his rune-covered bag (which he figured out fairly early on actually could protect items stored in it from harm due to them only sometimes counting as technically being in the area of effect), but stopped just as he felt his fingers turn solid around the object he was fishing for, because he heard her ask him a question. "Where did you get that bag, anyway? It's not any normal bag." "Oh this? An old friend of mine, if I can call him a friend, carried it on his belt back when he was alive. He gifted it to his wife in the will, and when she died... in the war, her will gave it to me, since I was the second inheritor and the first one died by her side. Don't know why, honestly. Good thing he, that being my old friend, had it too, he had a proclivity for grabbing and stuffing the weirdest stuff in here, and always having it turn out to be useful somehow." "Wow. ...The war?" "Ehh... long story. How about we don't start down that rabbit hole today?" "Okay." "Now, focus."

He gave her a minute to re-concentrate, and then pulled the phone from the bag and placed it on the table between them. They waited in an awkward silence for several minutes, Noelle concentrating intensely the entire time. Nothing happened. "Well I'll be... good job." The second the words left his mouth and he saw her grin in response, he knew he had made a mistake. "Focus!" Startled, she snapped back to intense concentration. He carefully picked up the phone. In just the few seconds her focus had slipped, the phone screen had acquired an annoying brand new scratch in the center of the screen, and several screws holding the case together had slightly worked their way out of position. He;s also pretty sure he shakes some kind of seed out of it as he tightens the screws back up. His frown deepened as he put the phone back in the bag. "Ok, you're getting there but you still need a little more work." She practically deflated like a popped balloon at his words. "Don't misunderstand me, you've made incredible progress." She perked back up slightly.

Her lessons on magic have been going almost equally well, and she's ready after only a month and some extra to advance to the first bits of practical spell casting. Usually back in the day, unless you were a prodigy, it took anywhere from six months to two years just studying the theory to get to the point you could safely cast even the easiest spells. ...It took me four. Clearly Noelle is a better student then most were back then, as we were definitely ready to begin and it went quite well, though I did notice a few potential points of trouble, including funnily one not with her but with Frisk. I'll keep an eye on the situation.

-A little later that day- ​

"Alright child, I believe we can begin learning something a little more practical, don't you, HWWB?" He somewhat lazily but confidently nodded at her as she set down a large stack of binders. "I agree, but as we're doing so," his eyes flick over to their student, "you'll continue to learn some of the theory as it applies to the practical stuff, alright?" When she nods back in turn, he gets up and casually dumps a heavy looking tome with the title Spells for Beginners on the tabletop in front of her. "Read that, understand it, then we'll continue with actually teaching you the spells you're reading about." Toriel's expression clearly read curiosity. "And... what is in that book?" "Ice shock, flame dart, Aronson's arcane arbalest (or more simply force bolt), Lowenhard's lariat of legerdemain (or more simply fetch), and Zeke's zap. You know, the basics. Every single one of those spells is entry level, building block stuff." Noelle, overhearing their discussion, chooses this moment to speak up. "Flame dart!? Uhm... are you sure? That sounds like something that could really hurt someone..." "Yes, that's kind of the entire point. It's a low-level utility/self-defense spell, for starting fires and hurting people who want to hurt you."

She seemed extremely uncomfortable and uncertain. "...I'm just... not sure I'm ready yet." "You are ready. You must continue. You must get stronger so you don't lose this second chance at a family." HWWB felt a sudden rush as he turned to the familiar but possessed-sounding voice, discovering it's source to be none other than Frisk. "Uff, kid. Stop with the surprises, would ya? The once was enough. Also, please stop... whatever it is you are doing." "I don't know what you are talking about." "My child! What did I tell you about sneaking up on people like that!?" They gave no response, and it is only then that he noticed the dead, glassy look to their barely visible eyes. "Lay off them for a minute. Hey uhh... kid? You actually in there?" "What are you-?" As he crouched down to eye level and put his hand on their shoulder it is almost like a switch somewhere was flicked.

"Urr... where am I? Oh right, I was going to the gym, I guess this is it, right?" "You aren't fooling anyone! You are in big trouble for ignoring me!" "They aren't trying to fool you. They genuinely don't know." "Huh? How can you be so sure?" He simply shot her a look. The air hung still for several seconds before she sighed and dropped the matter. Frisk shuffled over to a set of nearby bleachers to watch the rest of the lesson, complaining of headache in the meantime as Noelle read through the tome. "You know, I wouldn't have included the cheap shot about your family situation, nor phrased it that way, but whatever that whole mess was about, Frisk kinda has a point. You don't need to keep going. I just want to make that very clear, you can stop at any time. But you probably should keep up these lessons, and you should probably work on your self-confidence." "...Ok."

-Yet a little later that day-​

"Are you really sure this is a good method for judging if she's learned the material or not!?" Toriel was screaming at him as he and Noelle squared of against each other in opposite ends of the gym's sparring dojo. "This was how I was taught, besides, I've got the situation well in hand. Ok, Holiday, now hit me with everything you've got. Show me what you've learned!" "Got it!" She slightly clumsily but successfully casts the three attack spells she's learned at him, more or less alternating between them, for several minutes. He barely needs to exert himself to evade or counterspell her attacks. Aiding him in this is an early observation that, out of the three, she heavily favors ice shock, casting that more than the other two. After a close call where they nearly trip the sprinkler system and Noelle nearly miscasts, he calls the demonstration to a close.

"So... how bad was it?" "Overall? By the standards I was taught by? Or given the amount of time you've spent learning?" "All three." "I can predict what he will say at the end; overall good." "Given the time you've spent, your progress is astounding. However, by the standards I was taught by, that was horrible. Excellent raw power, but limited control and great inefficiency; you're spending far more magicka than was necessary for the spells you were casting, and you were leaving yourself open to being badly punished by a casting of reversal. But yes, Toriel your prediction was right and yes, Noelle, I'd say overall, you did good."

 

[Ol' Tin Knight]

Warning! This part references a fictional auto-accident caused by drunk driving, and goes into some detail regarding injuries caused. If this might offend you, consider yourself warned.

The songs that provided inspiration for this part and, more so, the next part's music, if you can call it that:

Spoiler: Where is the justice?, from the Death Note musical

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6DuWvmyqzY&list=PLm_hcPaCSyIau7IZGAFvc0z1nT1pn8w4U&index=2
Where is the justice?

Spoiler: Looking for a showdown, by DAGames

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V0IH9-p5P-4
Looking for a showdown

February 10th​

Today was finally the day that all the pieces fell into place. It took far too long, bluntly. We had everything we needed for this to happen last month, well, almost everything. But... hmm. I've been extensively and carefully reading and rereading some of the old tomes, specifically the ones on dealing with spirits, and using some of the diagrams contained within to cautiously draw the necessary sigils and ritual shape. Rituals like these and in general for that matter, are incredibly dangerous; if you mess up even the slightest detail, it could have dire repercussions.

-Earlier that day- ​

The kid was doing something abnormally age-appropriate and playing around with some of the other kids their age when HWWB slowly walked up behind them and rapped his 'knuckles' on the wall to make his presence known. After making a throat clearing sound, mostly for effect, he leaned down and whispered "It's time, kid." Their response wasn't immediate but they eventually nodded.

So we could have some privacy, I had prepared everything in the shooting range, where only we had access. Of course, due to my incompetence that didn't actually work out perfectly, but it was close enough. The really good news, I suppose, is that if my understanding is correct, we should, probably, only need to perform this once, as the ritual effect on the person it is performed on 'lingers' and will activate itself in the correct context, if said correct context comes up at all, for a time period of one year afterwards. It's the context that's the problem though.

As the pair step into the small firing range, their eyes take in the scene. There is a laptop with a flash drive plugged in, that is powered on, and which is opened to pictures of colored squares, while a puzzle cube sits on the bench rest next to it. The floor is covered with strange sigils and in the middle of the sigils a black rectangle has been drawn in chalk, and overlapped above the rectangle, a hollow white heart shape is also present, also clearly drawn in chalk. After an awkward moment, HWWB reached into his overall pocket and fished out a familiar small plastic bag with knife inside. "Recognize this, kid?" "...Yes. Why?" "Why what?" "Why do you still have that?" "Ah. Because I never turned it in, unlike all the others, and I did that because I knew I would need it. As for why I need it, well... that's a long one, but in short-" "You need something that belonged to one of the fallen children for the ritual, and you think- no, wait, you know this knife belonged to one off them. Specifically Justice, I'm guessing."

"...Got it in one. How did- you know what, I don't even want to know." As he said that, he slowly stooped down and took the knife out of the bag then placed it in the middle of the rectangle, chanting a few words under his breath involved in the ritual. "Ok, so the ritual caster is supposed to explain to the ritual target, in this case you, as much as they can about the spirit in question. Skipping anything they already know. So... what do you actually know or remember about the spirit we are dealing with this time?" "Nothing, really." "...Ooh boy." "How much do you know?" "A lot. A made it a habit to learn as much as I could about each of the fallen children and add them to my growing list of people that I shall make sure aren't completely forgotten." "...Does that include me?" "Kind of? I usually did most of my research after the kids died, because how am I supposed to know to research them in the first place otherwise, and you obviously didn't actually die down there." He could feel their eyes boring into him through their eyelids and lashes. "...Well, permanently at least. So, no, not as much as the others. But I had internet down there, and well..." "...Right. Forgot for a minute there. But I'm nothing like-" Now it was his turn to shoot them a look. "Okay, okay, maybe just a little." "A little!? Ah huh. Sure, little guy, you unholy flirt monster." "I'm not that bad, I would never flirt with my mom!!!" "True, you aren't as bad as 'you know what' makes you out to be. ...And dear GOD not as bad as certain parts of the other 'you know what' would lead you to believe. But you are still a child, and you have more 'game' then some adults I have known." They began shifting, visibly uncomfortable with the way this is going. "...Alright, I'll lay off. So, where do I start..."

I explained to them the same thing I am now writing here. Their name was Blake Galloway, and they were born biologically female in the United States of America in early 1986. However, from a very young age they developed a tendency towards more... 'boyish' activities, while still enjoying many 'girly' ones. This got them labeled a tomboy, but they also developed somewhat complicated feelings regarding their sex, not feeling entirely at home in their own body. A common enough story, I'm sure. Can't really relate myself. ...Or rather, very much can relate, but not in any helpful way. Ahem, back on topic. Due to these feelings, they would sometime around the age of four, adopt the name Jake. Somewhat surprisingly, unlike most of the other fallen children, their family situation, at least initially, wasn't completely horrible! They possessed both a supportive mother and a supportive, if not particularly understanding, father, as well as two grandparents on their father's side from whom they received a love of the wild west. That's all at first, of course. Ever since the stories and legends began, kids with functioning families and healthy lives do not climb Mt. Ebott.

The story gets sad in 1991, when Blake was just five years old. His mother, while by all witnesses' accounts was deeply loving, understanding, and supportive, was also deeply overworked. One day, shortly after beginning in Kindergarten, Blake's father, who normally was responsible for picking them up, got into an extremely heated debate with one of his coworkers at his job. Rather then do as he was supposed to and go pickup his kid, he went straight to a bar, despite not having had drinking issues before, and preceded to get, according a newspaper's interview of the bartender, 'completely sh*t faced', leaving them alone at school. One of the teachers there contacted their mother's work place, which I know about because that phone just so happened to have been tapped by a P.I. due to an investigation into alleged cheating on the part of her boss for her bosses' wife, a case which later went very public. Regardless, their mom couldn't come until later, when her shift ended.

By the time Jake was in their mom's car, their mother was tired and would be driving home in the dark, which she had almost no experience in. Perhaps what happened next is somewhat unsurprising with this in mind, but tragedy would strike. At an abandoned intersection, a 'highly intoxicated' or to quote the same newspaper article again, 'so wasted he probably couldn't count to ten' driver practically flying at over twice the posted limit rammed into the their car at, obviously, extreme speed. The police report thinks it extremely unlikely she ever saw it coming. Two different miracles were in play, one good, one bad. On the bad side, the drunk's car flipped from the impact but landed on its tires and was somehow undamaged, aside from blowing three of said tires on landing. As a result, he was able to drive away from the scene, trailing sparks the whole time, before police could even arrive to dispense justice.

The good miracle, arguably at least, maybe bad actually, is what happened to the people in Jake's mom's car. Their mom died almost on impact, but Jake was almost miraculously 'lucky'. They survived both the initial impact and receiving a shard of high velocity shrapnel through the throat area, as while the small metal shard did terrible damage to their larynx, the area with the vocal chords, it did not hit any of the extremely important blood vessels in the throat. The damage did compromise their breathing at first, but this is the second part of the miracle, as they would survive long enough to receive help, and in the long term, their breathing would return to normal. Their vocal chords though... that's a different story.

The father felt personally responsible for the accident, and to make matters even worse, the driver who was actually responsible would not be held accountable. The police claimed that since there were no witnesses at the scene where it happened and they drove away before the first responders arrived, it could have been anyone. But that's an actual bald-faced lie, as essentially everyone in their town knew exactly who was responsible, and while it is true that there were no witnesses, there was evidence! Blurry game cam footage from a local hunter captured the entire thing, was uploaded to a forgotten pre-youtube video sharing site, and is still available through the internet archive. And as if the universe wasn't already cruel enough, their father's parents both died not long after; their grandfather that same year around Christmas, the grandmother just a month later.

These events were rapidly starting to become too much for what was left of the family, particularly the father, so he made the decision that would ultimately lead to Jake falling to the Underground; he would move up north to the old family home where his grandparents, Jake's great grandparents, still lived and had just outlived their only child and her husband. This part I don't know for sure, but I speculate that they would be much more traditional and far less supportive then their grandparents or parents of their... gender choices. What I do know, since they confided this in Gerson during their time in the Underground, is that since none of the kids at their new school knew about the accident, well... kids can be cruel. They were bullied, relentlessly, for being 'too quiet'. In fairness, their teachers actually cared and weren't having any of this, but their attempts to help ultimately only helped prevent further incidents while they were looking. Then, one day in 1996, the day before their birthday, they had just had enough. They left school, ignoring their teachers' demands to return, and somewhat numbly walked all the way to Mt. Ebott. They fell into the underground on their birthday and died two days later at the hands of Asgore.

"And all of this matters... why?" "Most of it doesn't, really. It helps us understand the person they were better. Purely incidentally, if they were still alive, they'd be 34 this year, but I digress. Really it matters because its a part of the ritual and with magic being bogus, best to make sure I tell you everything I can." "...Fair enough." "Also, it's important because did you notice how most of their family is either dead or old by the end of it?" "Yeah?" "For the ritual of release, the spirit needs to be relieved of any last regrets and it needs to be put in contact with any remaining living relatives. For them, their father is the only one left, the great grandparents died some time ago." "Ok. So? Where's their dad?" He points lazily over at the puzzle cube. "You're looking right at him." "...You can't be serious." "After everything you've been through, I didn't think that would be your response, but no, I am. Just go ahead and grab the knife, like so, when you're ready." After demonstrating how to grab it, he stepped away and allowed them to pick it up.

As their fingers wrapped around the handle, the sigils glowed with an arcane light, which began spreading over the shapes in the center, before bathing over Frisk. As the light dissipated, HWWB dared to look up and take in the sight before him. They stood there, holding the blade with eyes wide open and glowing yellow. "Uh, is that you in there, Jake? If so, can you tell me what your last regrets are? If any?" The hands on Frisk's body move up to massage their throat. "Ah. Interesting. Ok. ...Well-" Suddenly, he felt a familiar presence come over the room. He couldn't help but think, seriously, what the heck keeps doing this?. As he shakes his head, he looks back to see a grin across the face of Frisk's face.

"My regret? Sure, I'll tell you my regret. * over the top clearing of the throat *"

🎼Where is the justice!?🎼

Oh creator above, what have I gotten myself into this time?