Bolterpyre

BIRDPOCALYPSE TEST

Agent Trident raised his suppressed submachinegun and aimed at the red feathered humanoid bird in front of him. He inhaled another lungful of Nitro-Ampethamine to contain the rising excitement in his heart. He was unsure if the entity he was fighting now was a product of the drug's hallucination or if he was literally fighting a real entity. He aimed at its shiny human abs and opened fire. It was the only part he knew that would injure the bird if it got hit.

"Shit!" The humanoid bird yelled in frustration, blood escaping from its bill. "Henderson, get that asshole over there!"

Trident immediately took cover when the red bird pointed at him. He thought he was safe but a boulder sized human fist smashed against his ribcage. He felt something snapped. He looked up and the last thing he saw was a blue bird's head staring down at him before it raised its Timberlands and crushed his face.

Int-GOI Contest The Reliquary structure IDEA

WARNING: THIS IS AN IDEA NOT A DRAFT

The Reliquary:

Prime Curator - The Prime Curator leads The Reliquary. He oversees the organization and he usually hires proxy or identical double. Only a few select have seen him personally and those individuals were either deemed important or was given with a special assignment to accomplish. He was said to be old and powerful. Some reports said that he have fought five Sarkics at once and lived to tell the tale. Some said he battled a priest from a Broken God Church but those reports were usually contradictory. He has the ability to conjure Type-1 Entity and has the ability to use Class-S Thaumaturgy. He was the sole wielder of the Sword of Black Arts. He was identified with a purple suit.

Curators - Curators both managed the internal affairs of The Reliquary and rarely goes into the field. Their work usually involves containing the retrieved artifacts and writing safety and security measures for it. They have a Type-2 Entity guardians and they could use Class-A Thaumaturgy. They were identified with white suits.

Conservators - Conservators oversees the retrieval of artifacts. They sometimes join in retrieval operations or raids, sometimes they just simply watch from the distance. Usually, a Conservator can act as Cell Leaders in an area. They were capable of conjuring a Type-3 Entity and has the ability to utilize Class-B Thaumaturgy and dark esoteric magic. They were identified with black suits.

Archivists - Archivists are the sergeants who leads the Librarians both in battle, retrieval and protection of the anomalous artifacts in an organization-controlled museum. Capable of using Class-C Thaumaturgy, they were identified with blue suits.

Librarian - Librarians are the grunts and the footmen of The Reliquary. They are the soldiers of the organization and their job is double edged, custodian of the artifacts and provide security over them. Capable of using low leveled thaumaturgy magic, they are identified with their red suits.

IDEA INT-GOI

1) GOI Documentation

2) Opening Tale

3) Pursuit Tale

4) Final Tale

First Draft

Suarez adjusted his tie as he walked across the long hallway. His footsteps were muffled by the carpet on the ground. He was flanked on both side by men in blue suits.
The walls of the hallway was decorated with vintage paintings of the country's reknowned artists like Juan Luna and Fernando Amorsolo. They were beautiful, however, the paintings were not anomalous. Not interesting to keep.

Unless it was Luna's other works.

The wooden door that leads to Mr. Bajao's living room was just in front of him. He cleared his throat, signaled to his men to wait for him. For ten years, Bajao was Suarez's contact in this country. He had known the man when he visited the Museum back in Lisbon.
He was aware of the existence of the anomalous but chose not to dabble in it for obvious reasons. However, he remained as Suarez's contact. If he finds anything weird, he hands it over to him, but for a big price of course.

He calmly reached for the golden knob and entered. Bajao was sitting in the middle of the room, silently drinking his whiskey. He was surrounded by old anito statues that he had bought in an auction when he made a business trip in Ifugao.

"Nice collections." Suarez said as he joined his friend, sitting across him. They were separated by a round wooden table.

"I know, but of course you're not interested in it."

"Sure, but keeping them has added no interest to our organization." Suarez replied. "You have what we're looking for?"

"Yes." Bajao glanced behind and nodded at an unseen figure obscured in the dark. Two men in farmer's clothing appeared, carrying a marble box towards them. Suarez eyed the long bolos hanging on their waists. "They were workers in my farm. Don't mind them."

Suarez laughed. He set the briefcase he was carrying on the table.

"You never fail me, friend." He snapped both his fingers and the men in blue suits entered. They wordlessly carried the marble box outside.

"Who were they?" Bajao asked out of curiousity as he poured a whiskey on an empty glass and slid it towards Suarez.

"Archivists for The Reliquary." Suarez replied as he took the drink and drank its contents. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"You too, Mr. Suarez."

Suarez smiled at the old man and left, following his Archivists to the door of the mansion.

*

Outside, Agent Richard Madrigal was hiding behind a tree. His black armor was installed with a stealth module issued by Sigma-18's armory. The visor of his helmet transmits everything he sees to the nearby Bike Squad hidden along the nearby highways. It was already midnight, pursuing the group would not be a problem for them especially that the Bike Squads were mobilized for action.

The looped dark synthwave music was already playing from his DUBSTEP earpiece. His RUSH inhaler, containing safe amounts of Nitro-Ampethamine combat drugs, was already filling his lungs and mouth with its sweet and addictive scent. Drug syncopation was the primary asset of Mobile Task Force Sigma-18, codenamed, Blackened Shards. It turned each Agents into deadly and fearless operatives with no regards for failure.

Madrigal saw Suarez and two men in blue ties exiting the mansion with the object. Men in red and blue seemingly appeared out of nowhere and began occupying the van.

"This is Agent Madrigal, Carter, do you see this?"

"I do."

"They're on the move."

"We are in position. We will pursue once they get into our range.

"Affirmative."

"Return back to the Site. We'll take it from here."

Second Draft Tale

A convoy of four vans sped across the highway in the witching hours of the night. The vehicles were fast for their size and built, attracting the attention of the Highway Patrol Group of the Philippine National Police.
The officers posted in the EDSA Highway caught the moving vehicles in their thermal speed cam device installed in the dashboards of their police mobile. The senior among the three patrolmen were grateful to the new equipment issued to them as part of PNP’s modernization program. Had it not for it, they wouldn’t catch any law breakers.
Like these ones.
The sirens on the police mobile began wailing as it speeds towards the perpetrators of the law. The violation of speed limit caused many deaths in the EDSA Highway before. SPO1 Ricardo Salongga is determined not to let it happen again.
A hand appeared from the window of the last van in the convoy, dropping what appeared to be little beans on the road. Salongga shook his head. The beans grew into thick branches and vines before morphing into a grotesque humanoid entity. Vicious, inhuman and ferocious, the skin of the ugly entity consisted of barks and dead leaves. Its right arm was elongated and hollowed; its face was human-like but its smiling mouth revealed sharp rows of canines.
It raised its hollowed arm and ‘fired’. Wooden spikes shoots out of it and impaled the vehicle. The officers inside let out gurgling screams before the police mobile exploded when the fuel tank was accidentally hit.
Hiding in the darkened alleyway, the operatives of Mobile Task Force Sigma-18 was notified of the attack. The Sigma-18, having completed their nightly patrol for the Group of Interest only known as “The Reliquary”, was alerted by their counterparts in the PNP’s Anomalous Police Force. They sped out of the alleyway and gave chase to the convoy.
“Men, RUSH and DUBSTEP on.”
Agent Alexander Constantine pressed the button of the inhaler attached on his breathing mask and the earpiece on the left side of his helmet. For a few seconds, his vision slowed; the night became day, the walls of the building around them lit up like flames and the road beneath them was covered with bones. It was hell but the sweet scent of lavender travelling through his nostrils was tickling to the very center of his brain.
It was addictive yet punishing.
Then in an instant just as it came, the sensation disappeared and all his hallucinations were gone and the electrohouse music began filling his eardrums like a seducing whisper, setting his mood to kill, shoot and run all at once.
He was riding behind the driver of the Harley Davidson Bike. Its attached weapons were locked onto the vans. The other Bike Squads were moving around the convoy to form a net and intercept the vehicles. For now, their Bike Squad was ordered to distract the bad guys before they find out what’s going on.
A man peeked from one of the windows of the van with a Heckler and Koch submachine gun. It was trained at their direction. Agent Constantine raised his suppressed MP5 and fired. Three bullets hit the man in the torso but he was still clutching his weapon, aimed and ready to fire. His driver muttered a curse before swerving to the left to avoid the bullets fired by the man, making Constantine lose his clear shot.
“Drive closer! I can’t hit him from here!” Constantine yelled but knowing Agent Carlson, he was probably cursing at Constantine inside his mind.
However, Carlson complied and sped nearer. Constantine squeezed the trigger again and luckily hit the man in the forehead.
The man slumped dead, releasing his grip on his weapon. Blood trailed from the orifices of his face. A hand visibly shoved the dead corpse across the highway. Constantine isn’t sure if that was an effort to deter their pursuers or the occupants inside doesn’t want to keep a dead body.
Two more armed men appeared on either side, aiming at them and at the same time, the rest of the Biker Squad caught up with them. Their passengers opened fire at the armed men but their targets were still standing and even firing back. Constantine joined the shootout and took one down while the rest of the Bike Squad killed the other one.
“What’s taking the other Bikers so fucking long?!” Carlson asked over the radio to which their superior responded.
“I was just about to instruct all of you to shoot their tires, Master Carl. The net is already formed. Do it now!”
Complying with the order, Carlson pressed a button below the handlebar and the twin machineguns attached on either side of the Harley Davidson trained itself on the tires of their target vehicles.
Constantine felt his entire world shook as soon as the guns began firing. The tires popped as soon as the bullets made contact with the hard rubber. The other riders of their Biker Squad fired as well, disabling the vehicles in an instant. Soon, the net closes in and the men and women of Mobile Task Force Sigma-18 surrounded the outlaws.
“The fight isn’t over yet.” Their superior said as he pointed at the monster heading towards them.
“Well shit.” Carlson said.
The entity sprinted at them with superhuman speed, eager to protect its master aboard inside. It fired its hand weapon and impaled a bike driver in the chest. His passenger fired her weapon at the entity. Yellow pus-like substance sprayed out of its wound. It roared in aguish as it grabbed its assailant by the neck and threw her across the road.
Carlson activated the bike’s guns and opened fire. Constantine contributed to the firepower with his weapon. The others joined and soon, the entity fell to its knees; its chest was a hollowed wreckage. The pus-like substance pooled around it. It remained motionless but just to be sure; one of the Agents shot it in the back of its head.
Disembarking from the Bike, Agent Constantine approached the van. Men in black suits were already lined up with their knees on the ground and hands raised to their heads. The confiscated weapons were laid in front of the captured outlaws.
“What do we have here?” Their superior officer, Senior Agent Wilson Carter, muttered as he and another Agent extracted a small box from one of the vans.
The box was too small for its height. Its surface was similar to a marble concrete, smooth, shiny and hard. The duo placed it beside the confiscated weapons.
The outlaws glared at the Agents around them. One of them in particular was a bald Caucasian man with red eyes, staring intently at Carter. The two men locked eyes with one another for a minute; Constantine was watching from a distance. The sirens coming from an armored car carrying the PNP’s Anomalous Police Force blared in the distance. It was concealed under the guise of the NBI’s SWAT Team.
“Take them in.”
*
“Who do you work for?” Carter asked, arms crossed across his chest.
The interrogation room was full of tension. The table that was previously dividing Carter and the bald man can be seen on the side, toppled. The Agents behind the obscured mirror watched silently at the men inside. Among all of the outlaws, the man was the hardest to crack. Based on their statements, the man, called by his preferred name, ‘Suarez’, was the cell leader of The Reliquary’s Metro Manila Cell.
For five years, Suarez was involved in numerous transactions in the black market, both importing and exporting dangerous artifacts for the powers-that-be. He was ruthless and, thus, was favored among the other cell leaders across the National Capital Region.
Foundation-personnel embedded in the PNP had him on their watch list. An asset they sent to infiltrate the ranks of The Reliquary provided valuable information about a raid that the group will carry out.
MTF Sigma-18 was instantly scrambled to intercept their convoy.
With the capture of Suarez, Senior Agent Wilson Carter considered this a decisive success; however, the artifact they recovered still remained a mystery. Its functions and its uses were currently unknown.
Carter’s fist made contact with Suarez’s jaw. The man spat a wad of saliva and blood before glaring at Carter again.
“I already told you, I work for The Reliquary, you deaf. What else do you want to know?”
“Who’s your employer?”
“My boss.”
“I need names, dammit!” Carter’s impatience got the best of him once more as he struck Suarez’s face.
“We called him, Tatang, he’s just an Albularyo with a connection to our group. That’s all I know, I swear!”
“We were just wasting time asking the same questions here, Carter.” Madison said as he approached his friend and slowly moved him back with a hand. “It’s my time to ask the question that really matters. What is that thing and what does it do?”
“How would I know?” A fist flew straight to his nose. “Alright, you ever heard of the tale of Dark Bathala?”
“We are not into mythology, really. So let’s just cut the crap, shall we?”
“It was a story that was redacted in the Philippine literature for some reason. Bathala was a chief god of the Filipino natives who happened to have a twin brother. His brother, watching humans struggle in their daily lives because of the absence of fire brought it to them when their creator is not looking. Bathala became furious of what he did so he punished his brother to burn eternally. His brother promised revenge against him and so he did. He struck Bathala with a spear, gouging his eye out. Bathala killed his brother in defense.”
“It does not make any sense.” Agent Carter interjected. Suarez glanced at him and grinned.
“Oh you will, you will, soon.”
*
Researcher Smith lowered the angle grinder as soon as everyone is in safe distance. The grinder effortlessly cut through the marble surface like butter, offering no resistance. Smith raised it as soon as the box is now opened.
Smith scooped the transparent sphere with a gloved hand. The texture of the sphere was similar to a liquid. The words ‘ball of water’ would perfectly describe the item. In the middle of the sphere was a glowing light, bright as a flame. It was reacting to his touch, illuminating the part where his fingers are making contact with the surface. It was beautiful.
“What the hell is that?” Researcher Andrews muttered as he approached Smith with fascination.
Shortly, the sirens in the corner began blaring. Gunfire echoed outside the room. Researcher Andrew decided to peek at the door when an explosion blew the door down. Numerous men in black balaclavas came in, firing at the Researchers inside the room. Smith staggered and fell with a perforated body. Blood slowly drains from him, death was getting closer.
One of the men pried the sphere from Smith’s dead fingers. They moved out of the room, quietly.
*
Carter drew his handgun as soon as he heard the sirens wailing. Suarez grinned, his hands balling into fists. Too bad, he was cuffed to where he sat. He could have smashed Wilson’s face minutes ago.
Carter turned to Suarez with an angry stare. He approached Suarez and was about to take aim when a body smashed through the obscured window and hit both Carter and Madison. Both fell to the ground, unconscious.
Carter could hear a key being unlocked. His hazy vision caught sight of Suarez standing up from his chair and dropping the restraint on the ground. He approached the downed Agent and sent a kick at his face.
*
Agent Constantine entered the security room. The Reliquary, although fearsome and ruthless they may be, lacked many things. The surveillance cameras recorded everything that had happened inside the Provisional Site, including group’s escape along with the prisoners that Sigma-18 had captured. Constantine let out a curse before ordering the security personnel beside him to switch the footage of the Experimentation Room. He rewound the footage and watched as one of the men held a transparent orb in his hands.
“I need a screen shot of this sent on my PDA, ASAP.” Constantine ordered.
The personnel worked in front of the console. Constantine’s phone rang. He unlocked it, studied the image for a second, before pressing a few numbers. He was going to call someone expert to the subject matter.
*
Father Battalla raised the blessed sword before swinging it down at a wounded Aswang, effectively splitting its head open. He heard a sound behind him and noticed a humanoid being with a muscular human body and an equine head. He reached for his pistol and took aim. Three bullets were issued from the muzzle of his gun. The entity known as a ‘Tikbalang’ fell to the ground with multiple gunshots to the chest.
Retrieving his sword from the dead body of the Aswang, the black corpse sizzled, its red eyes popped. Its body slowly burned away, leaving only the pungent scent of sulfur as its remains.
The screech of a Manananggal caught his attention. Father Battalla glanced up and saw an upper half of a woman, winged and horrifying. It pointed its sharp claws at the Priest before speeding towards his direction.
Activating the jetpack attached on his protective armor, he jumped and let the machine do its work. He met the creature head on, swinging in a wide arc. The blade sawed through flesh and bones as the Priest decapitated the creature.
He slowly descends to the ground, leaving a messy battlezone behind. The Foundation would just send cleanup teams to cover up the entire incident. The matter is out of his hands now.
He began his walk back to Armed Reliquary Site-039, the home of the Mobile Task Force Gamma-57, codenamed “Jetpack Reverends”. The sacristans would be worried by now but what bothered him the most was the celebration of Mass at six in the morning. It was three o’clock.
*
“Father, while you’re away, someone called.” Father Nazareno said as soon as Battalla sat on the chair to drink his coffee.
“Who?”
“Constantine.”
“Call him back.”
“No need.” Agent Alexander Constantine said as he entered the convent. A group of Deacons were trying to pull him back to the entrance. He turned at them and yelled, “What, I can’t visit an old friend?”
“Constantine the wayward.” Father Battalla let out a chuckle. “What are you in need of?”
Constantine pulled a chair near Battalla and sat. He pressed a few icons on his phone before showing it to Father Battalla.
“This was a dangerous artifact. Your Task Force recovered it?” Battalla asked while studying the picture on the screen with a mild concerned look on his face.
“Well no, a Group of Interest did. We just intercepted them”
“And by the looks of it, the item has fallen into the wrong hands.”
“The security in Provisional Site-9318 was minimal.”
“I see.” Battalla downed the contents of his mug with a long swig. “What do you want to know about it?”
“Anything.”
*
Agent Wilson Carter was directed on the Guest Room of Site-67. He was waiting for an old friend, whom he has served with in the French Foreign Legion back in ’14.
The Guest Room smelt of disinfectant. The tiles and walls were pristine, as if untouched by neither anyone nor anything. The middle of the room contained a table with a coffee maker and some toast. Black couches were also provided to allow any guests to rest from their journey.
Carter was about to sit when the door slid open. Agent Jeane Bouchard entered and shook Carter’s hand when the latter extended it.
“Good to see you, brother.” Carter said, immediately suppressing every unwanted thoughts popping in his head. He was a WOLF Operative of the MTF Omega-20, a Thought Police. He was capable of reading his mind.
“Good to see you too.” Bouchard replied.
“How’s the arm?”
“It has completely healed. It’s been years, brother.”
“I know.”
“What brings you here today?”
Carter unzipped his jacket and retrieved a folder inside. He handed it over to Bouchard before speaking once more.
“We’ve got a Person of Interest on the run. He escaped along with an artifact that was retrieved by the Foundation.”
“So, you want us to find him?”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t be here if I don’t want to.”
“I thought you’re just gonna ask me for some drinks.”
“Nah, I don’t want to end up like Bangkok.”
“Bangkok is dead.” Bouchard said with a grieving tone. “The Legion just sent me a letter about it.”
“Oh.” It was the only thing that Carter said.
“I’m going to run a scan about this guy. Wait for me.”
“You got it.” Carter said before finally sitting down on the couch.
*
“In the story, Dark Bathala, when Bathala’s brother, Hindi-Mapangalanan, killed Bathala in a fit rage and thirst for vengeance, his spear gouged the eye of Bathala. The eye was said to have been swallowed by Hindi-Mapangalanan but Bathala’s adoptive son, Mandirigma, fought the treacherous god, cutting the god’s intestines and retrieving the Mata ni Bathala, or Eye of Bathala when translated to your language.”
“Yeah?” Constantine interjected as he took a sip in his coffee.
“The Eye was corrupted inside Hindi-Mapangalanan’s stomach. The Eye has also corrupted him. He discovered that the Eye is capable of conjuring monsters that the Flame God Mangkukulam created.”
“What monsters?”
“The very same thing that usually walks in the night. Aswang, Manananggal, Tikbalang, Engkanto, Diwata, you name it.”
“What umbrella term do you use to call them?”
“We call them here, the Nightwalkers. Back to the story, Mandirigma conjured thousands of evil monsters that he could muster and began attacking every village in the islands. However, the God Apollaki saw what he did so came down and fought Mandirigma, causing their ranks to be in disarray.”
“You still fought them?” Constantine interrupted.
“Stop interrupting. Mandirigma was killed by a fatal wound from Apollaki’s blade. Soon enough, Mandirigma succumbed and died. The monsters howled in terror and anger, seeing their leader dead. He was prophesized to return. Up to this day, the monsters were still howling at night, to remind the people that their leader will rise once again to lead their army. To answer your question, yes, we still fought them.”
“Where’d you get all that?”
“From a book that we retrieved from the Initiative bastards.”
Constantine slowly nodded before standing from his seat.
“Thanks for the information, Father. I’ll see you around.”
“Wait.” Battalla stood to stop him. Constantine halted and turned.
“You cannot fight them alone. Whoever they are, they must be that powerful to know about the artifact, and they have it in their possession.”
“What do you propose then?”
“We will join you in your battle against them.”
*
The Dauphinois Museum was primarily the meeting point between Suarez and a proxy acting on behalf of the wider organization. The museum concealed what it really contains. He walked across the lobby towards a set of displays before moving down to an undisclosed hallway obscured by a long curtain and some discouraging warning signs.
Soon, he found himself in a dark room, surrounded by artifacts encased in transparent glasses and shady figures with hidden agendas. Some display reeked of hazardous memetic effects while some were capable of outright killing you if the safety measures were not properly followed. He was careful not to be affected by any of those.
Suarez was carrying a briefcase with him. Its contents remained a mystery, only known to him. His contact stood at the far side of the room, observing a piece of Juan Luna’s anomalous paintings, a piece expunged by both the Philippine and Spanish government from history books for obvious reasons.
He strode over him. He glanced at the piece he was looking at and immediately recognized what it was.
“The death of Bathala.” His contact whispered. A sound would be enough to trigger the piece’s effects. Its victims would die the same way Bathala died in the painting. “Do you have it?”
“Yes I have it.” Suarez replied.
“Good, the Bosses wanted it to be catalogued now. It was already been documented, only—“
Suarez retrieved a gun from the briefcase and fired at the temple of his contact. He turned to the shady figures and opened fire as well, sparing only those who were not completely loyal with The Reliquary.
“Suarez, what the hell are you doing?!” One of them yelled in fright. Suarez glared at the figure with black eyes.
“You will follow everything as I say.” His voice was low and guttural. “Or else you will die!” A Tikbalang suddenly appeared behind Suarez and approached the man who questioned him.
“Fine! Just spare us!”
The Tikbalang dragged the man in front of Suarez. The insane man touched his victim’s forehead. He vomited blood for a few minutes before standing up, completely changed. His eyes became red, his skin became black and his body became muscular.
“You will serve me well.”
*
The council was comprised of hundreds of men and women in different color of suits, denoting their ranks and role in The Reliquary. The middle of the enormous chamber was a raised dais that could only be occupied by one man. A projector can be seen in the middle.
The council was discussing among themselves about Suarez’ defection and the loss of an important relic; the fact that the Foundation knew of its existence was already worrisome. One part of the council wanted to wage an all out war against the Foundation and the other wants nothing but to stop Suarez and retrieve the Eye of Bathala.
The council fell quiet when the hologramic projection of the Prime Curator appeared into view. He was old, yet his body was visibly muscular hidden beneath his white suit. His face was covered in white beard; his trimmed hair matched its color.
“I demand an audience among you.” His voice was authoritative. Some speculated that he was God made flesh; others theorized that he was thousands of years old. Every time he spoke, it always carried a hint of knowledge drawn within from experience.
“A good son was now lost. His memories shall be buried and remain forgotten and unknown. He served us well but his actions swayed away from the path.”
There were murmurs among the crowd. The Prime Curator knew that they wanted to curse Suarez in the top of their lungs but out of respect, held their peace instead.
“On the top of that, an enemy challenges us. An enemy that deserved nothing but to be trampled underfoot slithered across the globe to fight us. We shall rise and behead the serpent with our sword!” Out of nowhere, the Prime Curator’s projection drew a sword seemingly out of nowhere. It was burning in darkness.
Documents recovered within The Reliquary said that the sword belonged to one of the Watchers mentioned in the Apocryphal Book of Enoch. The documents, however, were contradictory as some said that it belonged to the Fallen Angel Azazel and some to the Watcher Phanuel.
The council roared in applause as the Prime Curator’s projection disappeared. The crowd marched out of the chamber and towards the Thaumaturgical Armory to prepare for battle.
*
Suarez sat on the top of his throne, which was constructed out of enslaved human and flesh. Below, the city of Lisbon was covered in darkness. Winged feminine torso, black furred creatures and black spirits surrounded the court of Suarez. The creatures reeked of pure evil, intent and malice. A group of humanoid horses dragged a group of chained humans before Suarez. They were abducted from the city below. The Tikbalangs bowed, turned and left.
“How is our progress?” Suarez asked the unseen entity behind.
“Thirty percent of the population succumbed to our power. Fifteen percent of the city was terraformed to our needs. The citizenry still put up resistance against our forces.”
“Send in our Death Guards.”
“My Lord,” the entity spoke. “We have a problem.”
“What is it?”
A moving image of a group of men in red, blue and black suits fought scores of monsters in the outskirts of an urban zone. The area was mutated heavily that Suarez has no idea what that place previously was.
“Librarians, Archivists and Conservators.” Suarez grinned. He was a Conservator before. But he evolved far from that. “My family wanted to fight me. I’ll give them what they wanted. Send in the scouts and locate their forces throughout the city. I need the information as soon as possible.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
*
“THIS IS TASK FORCE COMMANDER ALDRIN JONES, CAN ANYONE COPY ME OVER?!” The recorded feed was covered in static. The voice was visibly panicking at the situation unfolding around him. He yelled a few expletives before attempting to reach out to anyone that might be listening.
“This was recovered from Site-145. It was located in Lisbon, the city that Suarez attacked.” Omega-20 WOLF Operative, Agent Bouchard said as soon as he handed the folders and the recording device back to Carter.
“He’s there?”
“Yes. A large tower was reportedly seen above the city. It abruptly appeared along with numerous creatures that seemingly appear from it. Following their attacks, there were reports of missing persons.”
“Thanks, we’ll take it from here.” Carter finally said, not wanting to waste time.
“I got you, brother.”
Carter nodded and left.

Third Draft Tale (WIP)

Agent Richard Madrigal held onto the handrail overhead. He was a Sigma-18 Agent that belonged to the Task Force’s Parkour Squad. Their mission is to provide a safe passage for the Bike Squad and eliminate hostile elements that belonged both from the Group of Interest “The Reliquary” and its splintering faction.
Lisbon was attacked hours earlier. The Foundation’s response was simple and quick. Numerous ground units under the guise of Portuguese Armed Forces were dispatched to combat the growing threat. However, they were losing along with the real Portuguese soldiers.
The dropship shook as soon as it began descending. The surface of the dropship carrier was coated with a special paint that rendered it invisible to the naked eye. Visibility in these kinds of situation was a low priority, for now. Besides, amnestics could be easily dispersed airborne anyway.
The side ramps of the dropship slowly lowered, revealing a city warped in shadows. A few explosions lit up some parts of the darkened city but its illumination was short lived. The dropship descended onto a zone free from the enemy’s grasp. Madrigal, along with four other Agents jumped onto the ground.
Their superior was on the opposite side of the dropship, along with three other men. He barked an order, instructing his men to activate their inhalers and their earpieces. Madrigal inhaled. He was caught in a beautiful nightmare once more.
The Nitro-Amphetamine rendered them fearless. He was unsure if the Agents who died before him were aware of their impeding deaths or they were just letting the drugs take over their systems so that death was unfelt.
The onset phase ended, leaving Madrigal bombarded and in an alerted state. His fellow Agents were already running across the war torn city. The streets were littered with horribly mutilated corpses. Handful of vehicles, both civilian and military alike, were strewn everywhere like toys. In the distance, he could hear gunfire and shouting men. It was accompanied by inhuman roars that neither sounded agony nor fear, but pure terror.
The parts of the buildings around them were covered in an asphalt-like material. Madrigal ignored it and focused on the task at hand. Soon, they encountered men in red suits. Each was armed with close quarters weaponry. One of them yelled something before started firing at their direction.
Madrigal moved to a flipped vehicle and took cover. From there, he fired back at the men, hitting one in the forehead and the other, in his chest. The firefight ended shortly when the men were killed by the drug fuelled Agents.
Their superior approached the corpses and examined it. They belonged to the GOI called, “The Reliquary.”
“Librarians.” Senior Agent Philippou said, kicking one in the head. “Intel reports stated that these guys were the grunts of our GOI. Be cautious.”
“Yes sir.” They replied.
Continuing their journey, the group came across a devastated area. They group dodged the debris from fallen structures. Madrigal vaulted over a slab of stone, looked from left to right, before continuing his sprint. After a few seconds, green flames sped at them, hitting an Agent in the chest. Thankfully, he wasn’t dead. Madrigal saw another group of Librarians approaching. They were being led by a man in blue suit.
“An Archivist! Take caution, he was capable of magic!” Philippou yelled before firing at the group.
He dashed behind a flipped Sedan and felt it shake as the Librarians opened fire at it. He returned fire and managed to kill a single target. They fired back, flanked by the Archivist who kept on throwing green balls of fire at them.
Philippou was already on the move along with three other Agents. Madrigal returned fire, distracting the group so their attention wouldn’t be focused at them. He heard the gunfire issued from the Agents who shared the same cover with him. He reloaded his weapon before firing back.
Philippou and his team managed to sneak behind the group. Philippou grabbed the Archivist from behind with a blade at hand. He slit the throat of the Archivist while the Agents with him fired at the Librarians.
*
The Bike Squad sped across the city. The riders have already activated the twin machineguns on their bikes. Its muzzles were tracking down men in suits and dark creatures. Overhead, the operators of Gamma-57 flew; their guns were firing down at the same targets. Their destination was clear: a large hovering tower

First Tale Version 2

NNOOONNEEAAHH

Intro - The Midnight Purge

It was on Monday morning. The Universal Bank was filled with people, the source of the main activity inside the bank. Boomer sat on one of the chairs that were provided for those who were waiting along with the elderly and the businessmen. Boomer glanced sideways to the left where he spotted Gunner, pretending to fill up a depository form. Gunner glanced back at him and nods. Boomer briefly looks at Smoker, who was standing beside a guard, asking questions about money withdrawals despite being told to talk to the receptionists numerous times. He was under the guise of a blind person, his rare grey pupils was a huge advantage.

Somewhere outside the bank, Driver was waiting. He was their getaway vehicle; a humanoid with the ability to teleport any object around him to another place.

The plan was set, all players are in position. There was no way that Boomer's plan fails as long as nobody messes up. He took a quick glance around the bank. Three tellers were standing behind three separate counters, each accommodating their clients. Three surveillance cameras can be seen: one pointing at the tellers, the second one, at the lined up clients, and the third, the entrance where two security guards were standing, armed with small S&W handguns with black finishes. Their target: the bank vault on the eastern part of the building. Another guard was standing in front of it.

With a nod from Boomer, Smoker grabbed the security guard from behind and dispensed a smog of grey smoke from his palm, directly aimed at the guard's nose and mouth. Gunner pointed at the surveillance cameras in a finger gun gesture and fired. Nonexistent 9mm bullets destroyed each camera within seconds. Sparks flew from it accompanied by a smoke that smelt of burning wires. The robbers wore their black balaclava in an instant as Boomer declared a bank robbery.

Smoker aimed his palm at the second guard. A fog of smoke that reeks of sulfur materializes from his hand and immediately invaded the man's face and mouth, suffocating him before he could draw his handgun. He fell knees first to the ground while clutching his throat as the smoke filled his lungs.
The third guard standing by the vault aimed at Smoker. Before he could squeeze the trigger, Gunner fired an invisible bullet from his fingertip.

The man's jugular bursts outwards, spraying blood and flesh inflicted by the unseen force. He fell, clutching his bleeding neck.

Boomer directed his willpower at the glass above the counter which separates the teller and the client. He visualized a bomb nearing its explosion. The resulting explosion was immediate as the glass erupted into millions of tiny fragments. The nearby tellers and clients are thrown backwards, receiving concussions when they hit the ground.

Boomer repeated the same process at the vault door. Powerful metal creaked as it twists and bends before exploding.

"Pack everything you can." Boomer instructed.

Smoker and Gunner followed what they were told while Boomer stood on the entrance, on the lookout out in case any police might show up. The two filled their rucksacks with money. Boomer handed his own bag at them and ordered Gunner to fill it up. After a few seconds, he handed it back to Boomer.

The air was filled with tension as they reached for the entrance, adrenaline rushed through their veins. Each step they made was an equivalent of the soil they dig for their graves. Gunner was shaking. He was nervous. This was the first time he joined in a hit. He became nervous further when sirens blared in the distance.

"Ah fuck!" Boomer yelled. A child began to cry which resulted in Gunner turning at the child and silencing her with a shot to the head. Boomer and Smoker stared at him with a stunned look on their faces.

"What the fuck did you do?!" Smoker asked as the first mobile car came into view.

"No time for that," Boomer says. "Follow me."

They filed out of the entrance with hands over their heads. Despite walking out with a surrendering gesture, the police still instructed, "Hands in the air!" Boomer waited for one of the cops to handcuff them. When he came to a close, Boomer cocks back and sent a clenched fist at the face of the cop.

"Gunner, now!" Boomer ordered as he directed his willpower at the mobile car. It bursts into flames as Boomer made the fuel tank explode. Meanwhile, Gunner put an invisible round on the cop's thigh. Smoker did what he was good at; creating a thick fog of smoke that temporarily concealed their escape.

The three sprinted around the bank, towards a dark alley where Driver was waiting for them. Driver approached before snapping his fingers. They were gone in an instant.

It was March 16, 1981. This is the story of how the Midnight Purge began.

Delegates - The Midnight Purge

The negotiations between the humanoid entities and the humans took place in an abandoned building which was renovated by a joint team from both races. Outside, it looks like a dilapidated nondescript office complex guarded remotely by armed men posing as security guards. The interiors of the buildings were empty, just as expected. Each floors were unpainted and not even a single furniture or soul would be found.

But one floor remained different from the others. It was not accessible to any of the elevators nor the staircases within the building.

However, the only way to enter the floor is to be admitted by a humanoid called, the 'Gatekeeper'. It is how the six delegates sent by the UNGOC from PTOLEMY Division entered.

The room, despite no apparent windows, was ventilated by a wall-type air conditioner. Director Bruce Wallace, one of the delegates, was impressed of the renovation made by humanoids. Architectural analysis of the structure has shown that this floor is not visible from the exterior of the building. He presumed that this floor was a pocket dimension created by the Gatekeeper for the purpose of the negotiation.

The six men sat opposite their humanoid counterparts. A long oval table separates the delegates from each other. The lack of windows had covered the room in complete darkness. It was only illuminated by three fluorescent bulbs hanging overhead.

"What would be your proposal this time?" One of the humanoids asked. The delegates resembled the appearances of ordinary humans, just like their other brethren who resides throughout New York. He learned that the humanoids were divided into two factions. The "Normies" and the "Freaks". The Normies resembled humans in many ways, from appearance to attitude. The Freaks were different. Two heads, six arms, big, small, etc. They are the complete opposite of the word, 'Humanity'.

"We would not be proposing another condition, Mister…"

"General," The Hispanic humanoid who wishes to be addressed as 'General' said. "Call me General."

"Well yes, General. We would like you to work with the discipline of your people. They have caused too much trouble already." Wallace says bluntly.

"Well, fuck you Mr. Wallace, fuck your Coalition and fuck humanity. We didn't want to be born like this, Mister—"

"Director."

"I don't care, Felicia. Look, your Coalition's experimentation has irradiated the River. We were forced by your goddamned people out of our homes and treated us as outcasts. Do you know what else were mutated in us?" He asked. Wallace didn't answer. "It's our sanity. We kill to preserve sanity. We kill for vengeance. Now fuck off." The General stood and nods at a guard from the door.

"Look, the Coalition is trying their best to keep—"

The room was suddenly engulfed in darkness. Wallace attempted to move but rendered immobile by an unseen force. The General remained frozen in place as well, but he wore a wide grin. Soon, light appeared and found themselves standing in the New York Square.

Wallace was still frozen, and so are the other delegates. The General produced an M4 Carbine seemingly out of nowhere. The other "delegates" did as well and they opened fire, killing Wallace and the others.

The Humanoid which calls itself, General, disappeared along with its subordinates. The people around screamed upon witnessing the murder.

PAYBACK - The Midnight Purge

To all members of STRIKE,

The crime and violence between humanoid parathreats and humans have increased last year. When they publicly executed the six delegates we have sent for the annual negotiations held each year, they have already declared a war against us. We have given them enough time. Although engaging them might compromise our Second Mission, I have come to believe that their utilization of paranormal abilities to cause harm has broken the purpose of preserving normalcy. It's payback time.

Operation Midnight Purge is dedicated for the complete eradication of all humanoid entities inhabiting the city of New York. Your instructions will be handed to you by your team leaders.

The fate of humanity is in your hands. Do not fail the Coalition.

Under Secretary-General of the UNGOC,
DC al-Fine

John 1 - The Midnight Purge

It was another evening in New York. A pub operated by a former GOC operative was filled with the Coalition's Agents just as usual. The sound of laughter and the smell of liquor came from inside the pub accompanied by a smooth jazz playing in the background.

It was another Friday evening.

John emerged from the dark alley adjacent to the entrance of the bar. He examined the security of the bar for a brief minute, none. The Coalition were too confident with the abilities of their Agents that safety was a second priority. They think no one would touch them.

John will prove them wrong.

He slipped on his mask, a white grinning dog with its canines revealed. He picked up the baseball bat resting against the wall and zipped up his letterman jacket.

It's time to smash people's heads.

His left arm ignited in a spark of orange flames as he sent a fireball at the entrance, melting the metal frames and the glass door. He approached the nearest Operative and smashed his head in a downward motion twice. He swings to the right, the jaw of another Agent cracked due to the impact. To make sure she's dead, he sent a pillar of flame at her body, burning it.

Witnessing this, a GOC Operative from STRIKE, stood from his seat with a raised handgun. John snatched the pistol from the first operative he had killed and fired. Three bullets hit the STRIKE Agent while three of the bullets from the STRIKE hit him.

The bullet, upon collision, was engulfed in flames.

John emptied his clip at the two other STRIKEs sitting with the one he shot.

He felt motion behind him. John raised his bat and smashed the Agent's head before the Agent could send a kick at him. Another swing had taken the life of another Agent when the bat rammed itself in the Agent's throat.

He whirled behind him. The drugs that his colleague gave him really works. It makes his perception really slow that dodging bullets was just a piece of cake. He toppled the wooden table to the ground and took cover as five GOC Agents from an Assessment Team fired at him. He stood from his cover and launched a stream of fire, setting them on fire.

Six more remained, excluding the bartender, who extracted a buckshot underneath the counter. John threw the bat at the bartender's face. His perception suddenly accelerated in speed, one of the trippy side effects of the drug, which he got used to when using other perception-altering drugs. He scanned the room for possible weapons and saw his only options: an axe decoration, bottles and some throwing knives. He grabbed the throwing knives from the walls and hurled them at the easiest target. He hid behind cover as the GOC Operatives fired back. He threw the remaining two at the Operatives then he returned to the wall and snatched the battle axe. He charged at the remaining Agents while grinning behind his mask. Every swing, a body part falls to the ground followed by blood spilling on the floor. The Agents had never felt and seen such horror in their life.

For them, they thought this was just another evening night.

For John, this was just another job given to him by the Chicago Spectre.

John 2 - The Midnight Purge

Assessment Team 623 "Charnel Swords" arrived at the ruined pub seven hours after the attack. The pub was cordoned off from the public with a cover story established about a leaked gas that resulted in explosion. Agent Train approached one of the burnt bodies and examined it.

Several eye witnesses reports that a masked man entered the pub and attacked multiple GOC operators. Although the motives are still unknown, Train presumed that the attack is hatred against the Coalition and its assets.

He took a few samples from the burnt corpse and sealed it inside a small vial for identification later. The other Agents in his team did the same with the other corpses before stepping out of the pub. He studied the melted door frame. The damage was so large enough that it exposed the interior of the pub.

---

The small apartment was devoid of all furniture, save for a cot, a wooden table, a couch and a broken television. John didn't know why he even bothered keeping that old TV set. He sat on his chair next to the table and took a swig from the can of his favorite energy drink.

The phone beside the cot rang.

He approached it and picked up the receiver to his ear.

"Hello, this is 'Jonah' from the Spirit Funeral Services. We have a client waiting for you at 56th Avenue. Don't keep them waiting." Then a click.

He returned from his table and snatched his mask. He put it on and left.

---

The Coalition owned an establishment which serves as their 'armory'. To the public, it was an electronic store that sells all sorts of gadgets from Walkman to NES game cartridges, but beneath the building, it is where they store and develop their experimental equipment that were not too dangerous nor powerful enough to be stored in a place like this.

He observed the store from an abandoned building opposite it. There are few faces that he recognizes, mostly GOC operatives whom he failed to kill out of mercy. No doubt, the GOC must have known about him from them. They walked in empty handed, only to walk out with a bag or some jacket to conceal whatever they retrieved from that store.

He descended to the ground floor and retrieved the baseball bat from the ground. He crossed the street with a brisk pace and entered.

Few people wandered around the small store. John couldn't tell which one were undercover Coalition operatives or innocent bystanders who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Each walls were lined with shelves where electronics are displayed along with other accessories. A long "U" shaped counter separates the employees and the customers.

Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time.

John turned the signage from open to close before slowly turning to the people behind him.

I feel alive.

Silence settles as tension builds in the air. John gripped his bat. The sound of the Queen's Don't Stop Me Now played in the background. John would love this night.

Don't stop me now, don't stop me, cause I'm having a good time, I'm having a good time.

He pulled the nearby person to the ground and began smashing him with the baseball bat.

I'm a racing car passing by, like Lady Godiva.

In the corner of his eyes, he saw one of the employees behind the counter grabbed a silver weapon from below.

I'm burning through the sky, yeah.

He launched a fireball at the man's direction, sending him to the ground with a scream. He vaulted over the counter and attacked the second employee with a bat three times.

Don't stop me now I'm having such a good time, I'm having a ball.

He snatched the identical weapon from his hands and fired at the third and fourth employee.

I'm out of control I'm a sex machine ready to reload like an atom bomb.

When the rifle clicked empty, he tossed it at the fifth employee before hitting him with a bat.

Don't stop me, don't stop me.

He heard gunfire from the customers congregating in the middle of the store. John vaulted over as he swings his bat to the nearest head. He swings again, hitting another, then another and another.

Oh, burning through the sky yeah, 200 degrees that's why they call me Mr. Fahrenheit.

Until the last skull was eventually smashed to the pulp.

Don't stop me now, yes I'm having a good time, I don't wanna stop at all.

He glanced back at the wooden door behind the counter. He vaulted over and kicked it open, sending it flying from the door frame. He was greeted with the sight of a lift. He stepped in and pressed a button. The lift begins to descend down to the floor that never existed.

The dark floor was occupied by two men in lab coats. Prototype weaponry and equipment were displayed on the top of tables aligned in a row. John approached and examined an armored headgear with a wide visor. He picked it up and hurled it at one of the men in lab coats.

"Who the fu—oh shit." The disturbed researcher says as John charged at them with a raised bat.

Butcher 1

The Sacramento Butcher (SCP Tale 1)

It was dusk when the Sacramento Butcher came and visited its 11th victim, who laid lifelessly on the floor of the liquor store. His tongue is missing, and so was his left eye. His throat was slit open where countless of blood flowed from but by the time the sun had risen, the corpse would have been dried.

A handful of police vehicles were parked outside, bearing the logo of the Sacramento Police Department. The liquor store was already been cordoned off from public. SOCO operatives has began their investigation, taking shots and blood samples. The killing has become problematic in the side of the Sacramento Police Department. It was always the topic of the local news and papers. If they couldn't catch the Butcher from claiming his 12th victim in time, the Police Department would garner a bad image for not solving a single crime in their hands.

Thirty minutes after the investigators arrived on scene, a black Thunderbird pulled up beside one of the mobile patrol cars. Inspector Moreno stepped off from the vehicle and entered the cordoned liquor store.

"What happened here?" Moreno asked a uniformed rookie.

"The Butcher strikes again, Inspector." The rookie replied as he joined the ageing Inspector across the store. "Just as usual, left eye missing and tongue missing, slitted throat and a black dragoon tattoo."

"Dammit, the Chief would not be happy about this. The last thing we want was the goddamn feds taking over this case."

"Well, you're right." A baritone voice said behind. Moreno and the rookie spun around to address the speaker.

"Agent Winchester, FBI, Unusual Incidents Unit." A burly man in a black suit and tie gestured at his partner, an African-American man.

"Agent Smith." He said, showing his badge.

"Speaking of the Devil." Moreno whispered as he leaned at the rookie. He approached the men and introduced himself, "Inspector John Moreno, Sacramento Police Department." He cocked his head at the rookie and said, "That's Jack Romero, our rookie."

"Pleased to meet you," Agent Winchester said as he inclined his head respectfully. "Although I regret to inform that we will be taking over the case."

"Well, I'm glad that somebody will take this out of our hands." Moreno lied. "This case has caused us too much time already."

Winchester grinned as he make way for Moreno to leave. The SOCO investigators and the elements of Sacramento Police Department were replaced by FBI Investigators. All the essential information gathered by the SPD were handed over to the FBI back in the precinct.

"So, what do you think this is?" Winchester asked as he knelt beside the corpse.

"I guess it's a Tulpa." Smith replied as he knelt beside the corpse opposite Winchester. "The files even says that the killer manifested in 'three' places at the same time to claim its fourth, fifth and sixth victims."

"Oh yeah?" Winchester asked. "How so."

"There are calls in 12 midnight about a masked killer with a butcher's knife, chasing people in the parking lot of a grocery store at 22nd Avenue, and another in Jazz Alley, and another one in the 29th. If that wasn't the Butcher, then I don't know what is."

"What if there are multiple perpetrators working together?" Winchester suggested. "Just tricking everyone they were only one person."

"Autopsies found multiple blood in the knuckles of the victims before their deaths, suggesting a struggle. These knuckles does not belong to the victims, but to one person."

"Has they identified the Butcher yet?"

"He's John Doe, I'm afraid."

"Ah," Winchester stood up. Before walking away, he noticed a dragon tattoo on corpse's right shoulder. "Smith, I need the file about all known Groups of Interest."

Butcher 2

The Sacramento Butcher (SCP Tale 2)

The day is beginning, but for Ivan, his day has just ended as he hung his blood drenched mask and his butcher's knife, on the table. He discarded his black jacket to the coach in the living room and immediately raced towards the bathroom.

He turned the faucet on, splashed a handful of water onto his face, and stared at his reflection for a long time. His red shirt obscured every sin he committed, but the scent is impossible to be concealed.

"Get a grip of yourself, mate." Ivan said as he opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and extracted a yellow cylindrical container. He fished two white pills and dry swallowed it before placing it back in the cabinet and closing it shut.

He returned to the living room, discarding his dirty red shirt and putting on a new one. He sat on the couch, sunrise seeping through between the blinds of his windows. For another thirty minutes, he sat in silence.

Then he came.

"How long will you be doing this?" The new visitor asked, obscured by the shadows of his room.

"They need to pay." Ivan said.

"From whom? You don't have grip over reality, do you?"

"What the hell do you mean?" Ivan asked as he turned to the obscured speaker. He saw an outline of a skull, hidden beneath a hoodie.

"Why exactly are you doing this?"

"To exact revenge."

"What did they do to you?"

"From what they did."

The skull let out a laugh. The room darkened that even the sunrise outside has suddenly disappeared, leaving Ivan in complete darkness with him.

"All I see was a dark future, a dead end." The speaker said. "Your mind is distracted that I couldn't get a firm answer from you. I will visit you again to ask the same thing, Ivan. I wish to bring light upon you, but instead you're running away from it." Then silence.

Ivan remained motionless as he watched the sunrise behind the closed blinds return. He watched it for another minute then slept, finally.

"How could you sleep at night, knowing that you killed defenseless victims?"

Butcher 3

Agent Winchester patiently waited for Smith to fetch the files to his desk. His office was separated from the other offices by large cubicles. His office consisted of a desktop computer, a library that lined one wall, a shelf to the left that displays plaque and trophies and another desk occupied by Smith. He was a Senior Field Agent and three years from now, he would be retiring with Smith replacing him. He silently tap the pen against a book cover when Smith came, carrying a pile of papers with him.

"Here," He placed it gently on Winchester's desk. "Why'd you asked for it?"

"I noticed that the victim had this black tattoo on his right shoulder. I thought it was just some dragoon tattoo but at closer inspection, well I know why." He glanced at Smith and raised an eyebrow. "You've read the autopsy reports, didn't you? I'm pretty sure you've seen it."

"Well yes. I thought it was irrelevant so I didn't informed you about it."

"What?!" Winchester asked. "You've been a Field Agent for like ten years now, you shouldn't have missed that."

"Forgive me, sir."

"It's fine." Winchester said. "With all of these crap we're facing, it definitely wears us out." He flipped through each folders, discarding the irrelevant ones until he separated the GOI files that were related with the dragons, or any Groups of Interests that would require their members with inking their skin with an image of a dragon. "This is definitely going to be a long night."

Smith returned to his own desk. Folders relating to the Sacramento killings were scattered throughout the desk, overlapping the other unrelated files. He rummaged through it and found the autopsy reports. He was about to open it when his eyes caught something that were worth more reading about. He picked it up and opened it instead.

Transcripts of call logs were printed in a typewriter font. The caller reporting seeing a man in a black jacket and red shirt, chasing a woman, his seventh victim, down an alley with a butcher's knife. His face was obscured with a mask that resembles Al Pacino's face. The caller reported that killer drew a weapon which they described resembling a tommy gun and began shooting the victim down. The Sacramento Butcher proceeded to extract the left eyeball and the tongue of the victim before slitting her throat.

Flipping to another page, another caller reportedly seen the killer in the same appearance, except his mask was different. His mask now resembles the face of the late Chester Bennington, the lead vocalist of the band, Linkin Park, who died twenty three years ago. The transcript ended there so he searched for the case file that pertains to the killing. When he found it, he flipped it open and read that the victim in question was hung from the ceiling with a missing eye and tongue. The throat was also slit apart.

He read another transcript. This time, it came from one of the victims themselves. They barricaded themselves in a room but the killer, in a Sharlto Copley mask, 'appeared' from behind and decapitated the victim from the jaw. The killer removed the corpse's left eye and tongue then slitted its throat.

Upon reading the call logs, case files and autopsy reports, the Sacramento Butcher's brutality intensifies every thirteenth of the month. One of it was slitting the throat of his victim and tying both their feet on the ceiling while the victim is still alive, or impaling their victim's head while their children were restrained and muffled with a ring gag, forcing them to drink the blood of their parents. But there are mild ones that only involves putting a pillow over his victim's face or putting a poison on their food. Though, he would still extract their eyes and tongue and slit their throat.

The Butcher's method of killing were related to the films or deaths of certain celebrities that his mask depicts. But the unnecessary brutality was something he was clueless about. Why the left eye or the tongue? Why slit their throat when they're already dead?

"Found anything?" Winchester asked as he stared at his partner's bewildered face.

"Well, yes." Smith replied. "Our guy seemed to kill people through methods related to celebrity deaths. Although, the motives behind it remained unknown, police reports only sees it as a some kind of a revenge killing against a group of interest."

"That's what I think." Winchester says as he raised a folder. "The GOI, Cult of the Black Dragon, was known for kidnapping adolescent teenagers between the age range of 16 to 20 only to kill them in some woods. They were involved in the cases of missing persons back in the year 2021 to 2023."

"So, the perpetrator was a female who takes revenge against them?" Smith suggested.

"Could be. Or could be possible that the perp's girlfriend or any relatives were victimized by the Group of Interest."

"Yeah," Smith says. Suddenly, Winchester's phone rang.

"Richard speaking," He said over the phone. "Yes, we'll come over there as soon as possible." He glanced at Smith and said, "Our perp strikes again."

Butcher 4

Frank raced across the street and briefly glanced back to see man in a black jacket approaching. The man was wearing a Boris Karloff mask while holding a large cleaver in his hand. He ran again, screaming for help. A black dragon tattoo can be seen in his forearm, revealed by his erratic movements despite his efforts to conceal it with a long sleeve jacket.

It was twelve at night. For the Butcher, it was a lucky day to commit a brutal murder because it was 13th of November, and it was Friday.

He sighted his victim running but despite the victim's efforts to escape, he was always greeted with the sight of the killer slowly approaching. He couldn't lose him. He couldn't shake him. His strength is slowly seeping away from his body.

"Alright, bitch." The man yelled at the incoming avatar of death. He produced a TASER from his red jacket and approached his pursuer. "Come over here!"

The Butcher let out a laugh as he let the man plunge the TASER in his neck, to no effect. The electric flow was directed back at the man, knocking him cold. It left him in the mercy of the infamous Sacramento Butcher.

Waking up, he found himself strapped onto a steel cold table. He was muffled with a huge leather strap big enough to prevent him from opening his mouth, tightly pressed against his lips. His butt and his spine felt the cold metal pressed against it. He could see medical paraphernalia from his left and three metal tables to his right where three dead animals could be seen, lying dead.

The Sacramento Butcher in Boris Karloff mask came in, wearing a white apron. He approached the rack and lifted a scalpel while his victim thrashed against his restrains. He placed the scalpel down and instead, raised two syringes which contains artificial epinephrine and morphine. He injected the two liquids in the neck of his victim, making him hyper, although the pain would probably a little bit dull, though, it doesn't matter. He'd be dead anyway. He approached the body and made a 'Y' cut. The victim is still alive despite this and watched in horror as the Sacramento Butcher begins to replace his organs with that of the dead animals.

Butcher 5

"Damn," Smith mattered as he examined the body on the surface of the metal table. "That was a hard way to go."

"This was his twelfth victim. Who knows what he would achieve when he claimed his thirteenth victim." Agent Washington said as a group of investigators walked past him. He turned to left the basement to talk to the owners of the house, who were quietly sleeping while the Butcher did his work. Meanwhile, Smith was left with a few photographers and forensic experts. He approached the dead body and studied it. His body was cleanly stitched, though the incised wound inflicted by the Butcher to place foreign organs inside were turning violet and decaying. Tears could be seen on the late victim's eyes and due to the body's attempt to expel the foreign materials, green liquid could be seen dripping from the mouth. He noticed the dragon tattoo on the forearm. It was inked in black, typical to the other tattoos inked on the body but this one had its forked tongue out. It was odd because Smith hadn't seen any other tattoos from the victims with the dragon's tongue slithering out.

"That's odd." Smith says as Washington called him from the basement.

Ivan proudly placed his mask back to its place where the other masks were kept. He walked to the bathroom and rinsed himself before changing in another red shirt.

"Are you happy?" A familiar voice said.

"Leave me the fuck alone." Ivan replied.

"Why?"

Ivan didn't reply as he sat on his couch where he usually sit and sleep. He stared at the skull visage bathed in darkness before looking away.

"I need to dismantle the Nazi's operations. That's why I'm killing their operatives and helping the Allies."

"Ivan, why?" The figure asked. "You shouldn't have taken that pill. It only makes you worse."

"Leave the pills out of this. The Commander promised that I will be a hero, a hero that everyone will look up to. I know I can do this. I can liberate this country from the Nazis!"

"No," The visage replied. "You have indeed lost your grip to reality. Were you abusing your pills just to cope up with the deaths of your parents? Will they be happy when they see you like this? I hope you don't end up in the wrong side of the gun when the time comes. The souls of whom you've killed will only take delight at the punishment waiting for you in the other side." The figure said. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"What the fuck do you mean?"

"I guess it's pointless to speak in cryptic now. Your understanding was impeded by the drug dosage in your body. Let me just ask you, when was the last time since your capsule has ran out?"

Ivan stared at him, silent.

"Why were you killing people? Why are you wearing the same shirt over and over again? When was the last time you ate?"

"What do you mean?" Ivan repeated the question.

"That is a question for you to find out." The skull visage replied. "I'll visit you soon, Ivan."

Confused, Ivan didn't slept the entire night.

Butcher 6

Smith was alone in his desk, reviewing the files that were onto his desk. He was reading a file which was not related to the Sacramento Butcher. Washington and a handful of Agents left early to meet up with a liaison from the Foundation, an organization dedicated to secure, contain and protect. He was left in the office to do things such as to respond in case the Sacramento Butcher strikes again and besides he insisted to be left alone anyway.

He put down the file about an anomalous telephone that rings every five minutes, only to connect the caller to some souls in the underworld or somewhere. He shut both eyes. He was working too hard since the past few hours when the Bureau had assigned them with the Sacramento Butcher case.

Then he remembered the tattoo.

There was something odd in the tattoo that he scolded himself for missing it. He picked up a case file relating to the Sacramento murders and flipped it open. It was an autopsy report of a victim. He examined the victim's tattoo closely and noticed that the dragon wasn't showcasing any tongue.

He stood up and borrowed the GOI's folder from Winchester's desk and read. Even tattoo on the cult members doesn't even match.

He cursed when the phone suddenly rang. His heart had beaten twice faster as he approached and picked up the receiver.

"Agent Smith, UIU, how may I help you?"

"This is Inspector Moreno. The Butcher had struck again at the Pleasant Dr."

"I'm on my way."

Smith put the receiver down and retrieved his coat from the chair. He walked out of the office and left.

It was another chilly night, the usual time when the Sacramento Butcher strikes. Callers has allegedly reported that a man in a Jogo Morgado mask has crucified a victim upside down, left eye and tongue missing and its neck slit. The crucified man was tied on the back of a black Sedan while it was speeding away with no apparent driver inside. Few eyewitnesses says that the Butcher were seen driving the truck while the crucified man yelled for help. One witness even attempted to bring vigilante justice against the masked killer, only to develop stigmata afterwards that resulted to blood loss.

The black Sedan collided with a house. Luckily, no one was killed inside and the residents were sleeping at the time of the incident despite the loud noise.

"Jesus takes the wheel, huh?" Moreno joked as he and Smith approached the vehicle and the crucified corpse behind it. The investigators were already on scene, cordoning off the area from the public.

"Funny." Smith says as he knelt beside the corpse, bearing its usual wounds typical to the victims of the Sacramento Butcher. He examined the corpse and found the man's ribcage to be exposed in a greenstick fracture, puncturing the skin and revealing the bone inside.

"When did this happened?"

"Just as usual, around midnight."

"Well, the perp has an affinity for the number thirteen. Would he stop now or something?"

"I'm not sure." Moreno admitted although the question asked by Smith wasn't directed to him, but to himself. He saw the dragon tattoo on the man's left breast and noticed that the dragon had two heads. "Inspector, what do you know about the Sacramento kidnappings in 2021 and 2023?"

"Well, it was perpetrated by a local coven in honor of a reptilian deity, all that pagan and satanic crap. Why?"

"Coven? It only means that it consists of women."

"Well, I'm not an expert in all that kinds of stuff but, yeah I guess?"

"I need to go, Inspector." Smith stood up and nods respectfully at Moreno. "I'll have this reported to Winchester."

"Sure."

*

"Do you like hurting people?"

Ivan's eyes opened. He glanced to his left, only to see the skull figure again, bathed in shadows.

"Sure, if it meant the freedom of my people."

"Wake up, Ivan. This is not your world."

"What do you mean?"

"You always ask that question yet you fail to understand the answer to it. You are with your parents when the accident happened, remember?"

"So?"

"They've died, but you survived."

"Well, yeah, what are you trying to prove?"

"Except you're in a coma."

"Oh yeah?"

"When was the last time you've seen the sun outside? You've never left this place in the morning and not only that, you survive without food."

Ivan shot him a questioning look.

"Wake up." The skull figure snapped his fingers and in an instant, Ivan found himself in a strange room covered in white paint. Few nurses milled about around him. He was injected with IVs, tubes, a mask and other medical paraphernalia.

The man with a skull face stood beside the bed. Ivan swore that he saw him grin.

Butcher 7

"Give us a reason why would we want to aid you?" The man in black suit and tie asked. He was much more shadier than the Agent across him.

"For starters, we'd be able to stop a serial killer in rampage who might probably searching for another victim in Sacramento." Winchester said, his tone remained calm, although he was becoming impatient. The negotiation is getting nowhere.

"Isn't that your job, Federal Agent?"

"Well yes, but based on my hunch, the killer possessed certain traits that were anomalous.

"So, you are asking us to aid you based off your 'hunch', without any solid evidence to prove your suspicion as fact that this killer you are trying to chase was anomalous in nature?"

"Eyewitness reports tells us that the killer was repeatedly seen manifesting and disappearing, to quote, 'out of thin air.' And besides, the autopsies never lie. Most of the victims were murdered in unusual ways with signs of consciousness despite the fact that they should have been dead."

"Maybe the killer in question was anomalous. An operative from the Coalition?"

"No, the bodies were non anomalous. They were already examined by the Paranormal Forensics Department."

"If that is so, we will agree to aid you, but what will the Foundation gain once the agreement is completed?"

"We will hand over 30% of the anomalous items we have recovered, most of them would be useful for your research."

"I do not expect the UIU would give up that many anomalous items but I will look forward to that." Another man in suit and tie approached and handed the person across Washington a mobile phone.

"Get Omega-20, they're going to bag an 'anomalous' killer."

Ivan ripped the mask from his face and the IVs from his arms. He stepped off the bed but his legs were wobbly after months of immobility. The nurse outside his room rushed to him and helped him maintain his balance. Ivan grabbed one of the IVs he ripped from his arm and repeatedly stabbed the nurse's neck with it. He walked towards the door, vision slowly restoring to its equilibrium. He out to the white hallway, stumbling in each step. He leaned to the walls as support to reach the other side of the corridor.

A nurse came out from one of the rooms in front of Ivan. He wrapped his hand around her neck began to choke her. They stumbled to the ground with Ivan on the top of her. He raised her head and smashed her skull to the floor four times. When he stopped, the nurse's head was covered in blood.

The patient inside the room gasped as he witnessed the killing. Ivan stood with a grin. He spotted a bread knife from the tray beside the patient. He sprinted towards the tray and retrieved the knife.

After a few seconds, the patient stopped yelling when Ivan ripped his vocal chords from his throat. He walked out of the room and walked again. He saw what looks like a janitorial stock room. He grinned as he slunk inside. He emerged from the room in a janitorial attire, pushing a cart which contains cleaning materials.

"After all that I have done for you, you didn't change." A voice called behind him. Ivan ignored the familiar voice. He knew who it is.

"You think this is still some kind of a dream, do you?" The voice added. "This is real, Ivan. You cannot wake from it."

"Your words mean nothing now." Ivan replied.

Suddenly, he found himself face to face with the skull faced man.

"Oh is it? Suit yourself then. I have watched you fail repeatedly. Only this time, you'll fail again."

"What do you mean?"

"Always with that damn question, are we, Ivan? This time paradox you're stuck into, I'm afraid, isn't a game you can simply switch off or a dream you can always wake up from. I have given you a chance to change the direction of your life but I ended up watching you walk the same road again." He turned and begin to walk away. "Goodbye, Ivan." Then he disappeared.

Ivan continued until he found another victim, a six year old kid.

Mobile Task Force Omega-20 ("Thought Police") arrived in Mercy General Hospital, equipped in their usual combat gear and armed from head to toe with their standard tactical loadout. Agent Bouchard had already told them about their target and everything they need to know about the current situation.

One by one, the MTF Operators filed out of the van and advanced through the entrance of the hospital. Numerous mobile police cars had already arrived on scene. Most of them were surrounding the hospital. A few SWAT Teams from the LAPD and FBI were already briefed in their mission, but received a standing order not to carry out the mission.

"What the fuck?!" One of the SWAT Officers says. "What the hell are we supposed to do?!" He yelled when he saw a group of men in black gear and gas masks entered the building through the entrance. "Now who the fuck are those guys?! Why can't we get in there and apprehend the target ourselves?!"

Agent Bouchard swept the area with his rifle. To his left stood Agent Barrientos and to his right, Agent Greyson. The LANCE Squad stood behind them, men who were completely incapable of telepathy unlike their WOLF counterparts, but they were there to assist them.

The target was on the sixth floor. His psychic residue was too strong to be ignored. Unless there are other psychics admitted in the hospital, Bouchard, Greyson and Barrientos were certain that their target was on the sixth floor.

"Adams, take that staircase on the right and lead your men to the sixth floor." Bouchard instructed sternly.

Agent Adams did not respond as he did what he was told. Bouchard led his men to the left staircase and hastily ascended.

After killing the toddler, Ivan found himself staring at the face of a young woman. She was restrained by a gauze tape. Her mouth was wrapped with a cloth bandage. Ivan approached her with a scalpel at hand. He incised her left eye and took it out with his fingers.

The door suddenly opened and the LANCEs aimed at their target. Ivan tossed the scalpel at Adams, who got struck in the chest. He threw the eyeball at the other LANCEs but the MTF operatives has no time for games. They pulled the trigger, only for Ivan to stop it midair.

"Who could have thought, I have powers in real world!" He said as he sent the bullets back the direction they came from. The operatives who were hit were incapacitated by the neural bullets loaded in their rifles.

Bouchard, Barrientos and Greyson arrived on the opposite side of the hallway. Bouchard fired at Ivan, who deflected it back. Bouchard swatted it away with his will. Barrientos visualized an arrow with his mind and sent it at Ivan to maim him. Greyson pulled the target telepathically where Bouchard stomped an armored boot at Ivan's face, knocking him cold. Barrientos attached a collar at Ivan's neck and dragged him away. The other LANCEs made their way out of the room when their protective suit resuscitated them after being immobile for a long period of time.

Butcher 8

Winchester arrived in his office. Smith was already inside, reviewing the files related to the Sacramento murders. He approached his own desk and sat, sweat running down his cheeks.

"I have a new information about the Sacramento Butcher." Smith says.

"The Butcher is already taken care of."

"But wouldn't you be intrigued about the motives behind these killings?" Smith asked.

Winchester stared at him briefly before finally saying, "Okay what do you have?"

"Turns out that our guy is just randomly killing everyone. The tattoo in question does not resemble any dragons from any cult listed in our Groups of Interest."

"What do you mean?"

"All of these are just pointless killings and hatred to anyone with a dragon tattoo."

"That strikes as pointless, indeed." A ring suddenly interrupted them. "But why the hatred with people with dragon tattoos?" He added before lifting the receiver to his ear. "Agent Winchester speaking." He paused. "Alright, we'll get over there." He glanced at Smith and said, "They got the suspect now."

"Who got them?"

"The Foundation."

"You've requested help from the Foundation? With all due respect, sir, but are you nuts?!"

"Calm down, Smith. I told them we'll hand over 30% of anomalous items in our inventory but of course I wouldn't do that. What am I, stupid?" He stood from his seat and walked outside. Smith followed him.

"So, we have your guy." The man in suit says.

"Sure." Winchester glanced at Smith. "Check the van."

The Smith and three other Agents approached the white van. They opened the door and saw a blindfolded, gagged and restrained man lying on the floor of the van. A bag covered his entire head.

"He's here, sir."

"Expect the items delivered to you." Winchester says as he nods at one of the Agent, who grabbed the man by his shoulder and led him out.

"Sure. Pleasure to be doing business with you, Agent."

"You too." Winchester said as he turned and left.

As they left area, LANCE operatives hidden within the shadows made sure that they were out of earshot before telling the man that it was safe to contact the other operatives of MTF Omega-20.

"Bouchard, you got our man?" The man asked.

"Yes sir, we're arriving at Site-17 now." Bouchard replied.

"Good. See you then." He hung up before dialing another number again. "Sir, it is done."

"Good. How's the D-Class?"

"We've administered him with Class-A amnesiacs and filled his head with all the bullcrap we could feed him with."

"Good." The person on the other line hung up.

"Let's get out of here."

"Tell me, why did you kill all those people?!" Winchester yelled at the top of his voice. 'Ivan' stared at him blankly.

"My name is Ivan, I killed all those men, arrest me please." The man repeated.

"There's something wrong here." Smith says, observing behind the polarized glass. Three Agents recorded the interrogation behind him. "Charles, fetch me the sketches please."

An Agent left the dark room then returned after three minutes. He handed over Smith a folder which the superior Agent accepted. Smith read the file and was surprised at what he saw.

"Sir, I need to talk to you for a second." Smith's voice echoed from the speakers of the interrogation room.

Winchester left the room and saw Smith standing in the hallway.

"We have a problem, sir."

"What is it?"

"That's not Ivan."

An Agent bursted out of the observation room and said, "The detainee is melting, sir!"

Winchester sped back to the room, only to see the fake Ivan turning into green smoke. Smith pulled Winchester out and locked the interrogation room.

"Seems like we were screwed by your friends, sir." Smith says sarcastically.

"So, why did you do it?" Bouchard asked Ivan, who was sitting across him. Barrientos, Greyson and a few LANCEs and WOLFs were watching behind the polarized glass.

"You know, we can do this all day, even if you don't talk." Bouchard added. Agent Jan Mariano stood on one corner, listening. He was a WOLF, just like Bouchard. He pretended to be listening in the background, but in truth, he was silently rummaging through Ivan's thoughts, collecting every information that would be useful to them.

"You think you're special?" Bouchard asked as he grinned at the person in front of him. "Tell you what, you're not. You're never the top of the chain, Ivan? You know why? You prey upon people whom you deemed normal. You prey upon those who cannot fight back. But let me tell you this, we prey upon those who preyed on weak people. We are stronger than you are, Ivan, and using that ability of yours over us is a huge mistake you'll ever make. I'll guarantee you that."

"Sir," Agent Mariano called. His information gathering is completed. "Outside."

The two left the room. Mariano turned to him and said, "The POI is inclined to take revenge against the person who killed his parents in the car crash. He was with them, sir, and the person in question had a dragon tattoo, which explains his murders involves with victims with dragon tattoos."

"Wait, I don't follow. I haven't read his file yet."

"Don't worry, sir. I have it all in my head."

Butcher 9

Inmate #: 0352

Inmate Class: Safe

Special Detainment Procedures: Inmate-0352 is to be fitted with an anti psychic resonator collar before being detained in a standard cryogenic pod where they will be serving for an indefinite amount of time. The cryogenic pod will be connected to a tube which will pump Class-A Mustard Gas in case Inmate-0352 attempts to breach detainment. Inmate-0352 is to be terminated if they resists detainment before their internment to the cryogenic pod.

Description: Inmate-0352 is a Caucasian male in his early twenties. Inmate-0325 is classified as a Dream-Walker type psychic with the ability to conjure semi-corporeal entities in their sleep. Upon detainment, Inmate-0352 displays telepathic abilities when they incapacitated LANCE operatives from MTF Omega-20 ("Thought Police"). Inmate-0352's psychic abilities were presumed to have been activated when they were involved in an accident in September 07, 2029 where one (1) male and one (1) female, presumably his parents, were both killed. Inmate-0352 is immediately assessed psychologically and were found to be psychopathic due to his lack of guilt when committing murders. When asked about his actions, he showed no response.

Addendum-0352-1: Inmate-0352 was involved in the Sacramento Murders which resulted in thirteen (13) civilian deaths.

Butcher 10

Ivan woke up, only to find himself submerged deep beneath the ocean. He was naked, the cold sea seeped through his skin and bones, preventing him from moving. Beneath him, he could see the skull faced figure approaching him, it looks like as if the figure was walking towards him.

"I told you, Ivan. It will end into this." He began. "I've looked into thousands of possibilities where it could have been different. You could have taken those paths but you keep on walking down the same road again and again and again. This was your thirteenth time and I'm afraid, there's nothing I can do now." The skull faced man looked below. "Oh, they're waiting for you. Goodbye Ivan, this was the last time we'll see each other again. I promise you that."

Ivan was pulled deeper beneath the ocean. He saw thousands of flayed faces that resembles the faces of his victims. Ivan wanted to scream, but he realized that his mouth was missing.

KTE-4241

Access KTE-4241-Blackwood Whitebuster

Threat ID: KTE-4241-Blackwood-Whitebuster "Demon of Death"

Authorized Response Level: 3 (Moderate Threat)

Description: Caucasian male, 1.72 cm in height, threat's age is presumed to be in its middle twenties. A double edged knife was confiscated on the threat's person.

The threat came to the Coalition's attention when it was last seen pursuing a humanoid target. Based on eye witness reports, it was recorded to produce flames out of its hands while it engaged its target in a combat which ended in the death of the victim.

Rules of Engagement: The threat is engaged by members of STRIKE Team 422 "Black Axe". The threat shows extreme hostility against Coalition operatives and any persons related to any Abrahamic faith.

STRIKE Team 422 "Black Axe" utilized the ammunition blessed by an available Roman Catholic priest for the purpose of the threat's termination. The termination was successful.

Cuddles 1

The night has came once again. Jennifer climbed onto her bed and pulled the sheet of blanket all over her small body. She reached for 'Mr. Cuddles', a gold furred stuffed toy teddy bear that her Aunt Maria gave her last Christmas.

Her Mom gave her a kiss on her forehead. She caressed her face twice.

"Good night honey, sweet dreams." She said and stood up to leave. However, Jennifer gave her Mom a worrying look. "Something wrong, honey?"

She silently pointed at the open cabinet to their right. Her playful imaginations made her perceive two glowing red eyes peeking from beneath the dark cabinet.

Her Mom closed the cabinet and gave Jennifer a reassuring look.

"No monsters, see? Now sleep tight." She smiled for one last time. "Don't forget to pray to God and His Angels."

She shut the door behind her. Jennifer looked at the cabinet, which creaked open. The two red eyes glared at her, ready to jump at the hapless child now that her parent is gone.

"O Michael of the Night, Angel of the Right, His Red Right Hand, Hunter of Demons and the Destruction of Evil, keep me safe. Cover me with thine wings, shield me with your arms and defend me with your sword. May God send you to protect me." She shut her eyes tight.

She fell asleep. It was instant. The entity in her closet grinned, revealing its pointy teeth. With one swift motion, it lounged at the innocent child.

Only to get kicked in the face by 'Mr. Cuddles'.

"Stand back, you motherfucker!" Mr. Cuddles yelled as he raised his silver handgun the size of his small fist.

"What the hell?!" The entity was thrown backwards, skinny emaciated arms were raised in defense. "Bear Corps!"

"That's right," Mr. Cuddles, or Captain HJK-317 by the members of the BEAR Corps, said as he fired at the entity's left kneecap. The entity stretched its mouth open. It was screaming in silence, an action common to its kin when hurt. "So, the Initiative sent another pig for me to kill. Any last words?"

"The Boogeymen Initiative shall never suffer defeat against your piece of shit Corps!" It stood, black liquid dripping from its wound. The dripping liquid disappeared the moment it touched the ground. "Die!"

HJK-317 jumped to the right, avoiding the sharp nails that almost rip him to pieces. He jumped and sent a right hook at the jaw of the Boogeyman, sending him staggering backwards. His appearance and composition may be soft, but the power bestowed upon the 'shell' he was inhabiting allows him to badly hurt any entities that will cause harm to the children he was assigned to protect.

The Boogeyman launched itself at him one last time. HJK-317 put two bullets between the eyes of his enemy. It landed on the ground with a muffled thud and burned away to dust.

"Scary you may be, but all of you are nothing but weak fuckers who preys on children." He grinned as he turned to the door. "Pick somebody your own size."

He opened the door and made a dash to the stairs below. He moved from the living room to the kitchen, where he found an Elf in green jumpsuit, waiting for him.

"Hello, Jimmy." HJK-317 greeted. "Noise complains?"

"Yeah." The little Elf replied. HJK-317 was taller and bigger than him. He always hated to show up on the old Captain's doorsteps whenever some elemental spirit complained of 'noises' every time he banished a Boogeyman. "You working?"

"Sure." HJK-317 nodded. "Goodnight, Jimmy."

"Goodnight, sir." Jimmy disappeared in an instant.

The Elf Corps, a detachment of lawmakers left by Santa Claus to aid the Bear Corps in its mission to maintain peace and order to the urbanized areas of the world where spiritual beings happened to live. HJK-317 was glad to have them by their side.

The Captain slipped through the secret hole he made in the door in the first day in his house. Before he was 'resold' to the Benjamin Family through a Walmart Sale, there were three Operatives from the Bear Corps that have served here.

One of them was reassigned and resold to another family and the other two were killed in action.

The garden was quiet. Dad's barbecue grill was stained with blackened grease. The kiddie pool was long since deflated and the sandbox to the left where various toys and playgrounds were scattered. He approached the sandbox and genuflected for five minutes.

"Are you calling me?" A deep authoritative voice asked behind.

HJK-317 turned. He squinted his eyes at the glowing humanoid figure and raised his furry hand to cover his whole face. It was the Archangel Michael.

When the fallen Angel Lucifer unleashed the Demon Lilith upon the world, Michael grew worried when the amount of children killed 'mysteriously' increased over time. Lilith preyed upon their children's corpses to consume their soul, which she used to construct her own army of Boogeymen.

Silent hunters and lethal in all aspects, the Boogeymen were efficient killers that aided Lilith in her consummation of children souls.

In despair, Michael created the Bear Corps in 1920 to battle the Boogeymen. Legions upon legions of Teddy Bear were created and sold to the public as 'stuff toys'.

The tide of battle turned with Lilith being slain by one of Michael's machinations. This scattered the Boogeymen that degenerated into nothing but a faction of fledgling monsters hunting for themselves or living among the humans.

"Yes sir," HJK-315 replied as he bowed his head respectfully. "This was the fifth time a Boogeyman appeared attempted to kill the child I was assigned to protect."

"What bothers you? Are you not supposed to be joyful and consider this a success?"

"I sense something, sir, something isn't right."

"The scenes shall unfold itself." Michael said, slowly fading. "Only time will tell. I do not hold the visions to the future, do not consult me unless it was gravely important." He disappeared.

HJK-317 wanted to launch himself where the Archangel previously stood.

*

Malfiel stood on the cart pulled in tow by a toy truck. Two more Elf from his squad sat on the driver and shotgun, bopping their heads at the sound of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer

"It's not even Christmas!" Malfiel yelled at the two but his words fell on deaf ears. The truck was accelerating past a hole in a fence of a huge backyard.

The night was eerily quiet, with the sound of the crickets and the bugs only heard. The spirits that resides on earth, wind and the plants were also silent. Malfiel usually hear them like talking about how the world changed from a healthy one into something that borderline between death and chaos. With the humans constantly messing around with nature with their technology and such, Malfiel couldn't help but to agree with the spirits. He—

Something caught the corner of his eye. Malfiel saw a gigantic humanoid figure standing at the end of their path, red eyes glowing. He tapped at the roof of the truck's cabin but the Elves inside couldn't care any less. Malfiel slammed the butt of his handgun at the roof for the second time.

They finally stopped.

The truck halted. The figure remained where it stand, its red eyes staring down at them. It was grinning and its face was covered in a white fur. Its mouth appeared to be a snout.

A wolfman. The Bear Corps usually handled these kinds of entities. The Elf Corps can only handle spirits, but not a Boogeyman like this.

The wolfman leapt at them in all four. The Elves turned where they came and accelerated. Malfiel fired at the gigantic entity. He wondered if his shots were even hitting the enemy.

Before they pass through the fence, Malfiel could see three humans with glowing tattoos. Unless the humans had invented another fashion trend that involves glowing Occult symbol tattoos, Malfiel knew something doesn't sits right.

He gave the wolfman one last look before its opened mouth came closer.

Jennifer woke up from sleep. She looked at the cabinet where she last saw the 'monster' only to find it closed. Sun rays seeped through the blinds that covered her window and the digital clock resting beside her bed displayed '7:00'.

She kissed Mr. Cuddles in the forehead and placed him on the bed with his head resting on the pillow. She planted both feet on the floor and left the room.

HJK-315 watched the child walk away from the room. He stood up and tossed the leaf stuck on his chest away from him. The child didn't see it, which was a relief.

"Captain," the familiar voice of Jimmy the Elf inquired from behind. HJK-315 turned and saw the elf. He wore an expression of horror and sadness. "You need to come with me."

"Something wrong? Have I violated the law?"

"Just come." Jimmy said as he entered a circular pocket dimension which appeared out of nowhere.

HJK-315 watched Jimmy disappeared inside. He followed him and they were transported into a white pristine hospital. Numerous elves from the Elf Corps walked to and from corridors to corridors, entering and leaving rooms at once. The rooms contained wounded elves who were lucky enough to survive in each of the battle they fought.

None of this make sense to the old Captain. What does this have to do with him?

He followed the elf across the hospital. He was the only Bear present and his large frame took up the spaces of the hallways they entered. The elves cursed at him as they squeezed past. HJK-315 ignored them.

Finally, Jimmy stopped in front of a door. He opened it and entered. The old Captain saw an elf with a bandaged face. His body was covered with a blood stained blanket.

"It took them three hours to patch him altogether." Jimmy said.

"Goddammit." HJK-315 muttered. "I'm sorry for your loss but this does not answer the question what does it have to do with me?"

"A wolfman attacked them. They were in a patrol wagon. Two of the elves were dead." Jimmy stared at the pitiful sight of his colleague. "Malfiel, what happened?"

The Text-To-Speech device attached to his bed began displaying letters. Malfiel retold the encounter they had with the wolfman and the men with glowing tattoos.

"Have you sent men to check on the family living in the house?" HJK-315 asked.

"We did. Three Inquisitor Squads and two Strike Teams in case shit hits the fan, nada. The two old couple and their teenage daughters were missing."

"Teenagers doesn't play with teddy bears anymore, right?" HJK-315 rhetorically asked. He reprimanded himself for asking such a stupid question in front of a colleague. "I mean, I'll get to the bottom of this. I need to return back to my child's house."

"What are you gonna do?" Jimmy asked as he opened the portal back to Jennifer's room.

"Goodbye, Jimmy."

He landed on Jennifer's bed. The child must have been fetched by her mother to the school bus. He sprinted across the bed and climbed on the table to confirm this. He saw Jennifer climbing aboard the bus in front of their house with her mother waving at her goodbye.

He jumped back to the bed and slid down to the floor. He crawled underneath the bed and pulled out a small laptop that bears the insignia of the Corps on top, a shield crossed by two diagonal swords.

He opened it and booted the system online. He typed a few keys in the console and the faces of his teammates appeared on the screen.

The four bears were identical to him but two of them differed in color; one has pink fur and the other, green. The other two was gold like him.

"Cuddles," the bear with the pink fur asked. "How can we be of assistance?"

"Strawberry," HJK-315 greeted him. Their names were originally three letters and three numbers but calling one another by nicknames would be much more convenient to address each other than their jumbled serial numbers. "We have a Code Red situation. A wolfman manifested in the neighborhood and murdered two elves."

"Wolfman? Aren't those Boogeymen dead long time ago?" A gold bear asked.

"Yes, Charlie, that's what I thought too." HJK-315 replied. "We need to assemble ASAP. We're going to visit the investigation site and get some clues."

"Would the Elf Corps allow us?" The green bear asked.

"Of course, Candy. I see no reason why they have to prohibit us."

"Alright then," another gold bear finally said. "I'll get my child's toy car. We're gonna roll!"

"This is not a roadtrip, Skittles." HJK-315 said. "Get your gear ready and expect combat."

*

The morning was cold and the skies were covered by grey clouds. Luckily for them, they don't have to conceal their tracks. The toy car was a yellow small vehicle powered by a motorcycle battery. Skittles' child must be rich to own this kind of toy. He was driving while his team were sitting on the back seat.

Each Bear Operatives were wearing black berets, indicating that they belong to the Death Special Forces. The star pinned on their berets means that they were also veterans. The sleeveless black vests they wore were impervious to bullets and sharp objectives. Fitted on the slots and holsters were miniature size of modern day weaponry and a few thaumaturgical instruments that has the capability of banishing Boogeymen powered by thoughts and emotions.

The car came to a stop. Three patrol wagons painted in the Elf Corps colors were parked on the now-vacant house. The door was slightly open and they could see silhouettes of little men inside.

"So the midgets came here first." Strawberry said. HJK-315 hit him on the side of his head.

"You're going to jeopardize the relationship between the Bear Corps and the Elf Corps if they hear you say that." He said as they disembarked from the car. "Let's move."

They crossed the patio in a few seconds. HJK-315 pushed the door big enough for him and his team to enter.

Three elves raised their pistols but slowly lowered it when they saw the Bear Operatives.

"What happened here?" HJK-315 asked.

"Wolfman, they said." One of the elves replied. "But I guess it's just the dog."

"Where were the inhabitants of this house?" The Captain asked the second time.

"We don't know. The investigators were all over the house already, looking for clues and signs."

"We're going to conduct an investigation of our own." HJK-315 glanced around. "If what they said were true, your Corps isn't sufficiently equipped to handle the Boogeyman responsible for the attack."

"Sure."

HJK-315 and his team walked across the living room, past the elves. The walls were devoid of furniture save for a few frames with no pictures. The floor was wooden and the ceiling had cobwebs on the corners.

They ascended to a flight of stairs to their right where the other elves had went. When they reached the first landing, they spotted an elf whose lower body was missing.

"Ah shit!" HJK-315 whispered as he lifted the elf from the ground. "What happened?"

"Dark Spirits!" The elf replied before coughing transparent liquid. "We encountered them. They knew who snatched the family. Just need…" the elf coughed once again. "…the right spell." He drew his last breath.

"Spread out and shoot anything elemental." The Captain said as he drew his Smith & Wesson. The others did the same as they ascended the stairs.

Peeking through the door to the hallway of the second floor, the Captain saw a dark humanoid entity just as small as the elves. It was shrouded in shadows with purple glowing eyes shooting beams of dark matter from it.

HJK-315 pushed the door open and fired. His first shot hit the face of the entity. It let out a screech before disappearing, dropping the lifeless body of an elf. Strawberry fired his gun at the other Dark Spirit raising towards them. The Captain nodded his thanks as they moved forward.

"I'm gonna toss my quartz across the floor." Strawberry said. "Hopefully, we can acquire enough information about our target."

The rest of the team arrived with their weapons raised. The door to the master's bedroom was opened, however, the door behind them.that leads to the daughters' room were closed shut.

Three Dark Spirits emerged from underneath the bed. HJK-315 opened fire. His bullet hit the mid section of his target. Strawberry's bullets precisely landed on his intended target, the face.

The last one sprinted at them. Strawberry kicked the quartz across the floor towards the lumbering entity. It absorbed the Dark Spirit inside.

Four more Dark Spirits emerged from under the bed. Skittles, Candy and Charlie concentrated their gunfire at the entities to their right while Strawberry and HJK-315 on their left. Five Dark Spirits replaced them, jumping down from the top of the bed and sprinted at them. HJK-315 knelt a knee on the ground and squeezed the trigger. His handgun was trained at the groin of the enemy.

When his target fell, he attacked the next target. Its neck bursts open when the rounds of his revolver hit it.

The last of the Dark Spirits fell. The team reloaded their handguns before proceeding inside.

Strawberry picked up the quartz stone with his free hand while his team swept the room, empty. He concentrated on the quartz and fell into a trance.

"Boy, aren't we glad we've brought these things with us?" Candy asked as he pointed at the thaumaturgical kit attached to his armor.

"Sure." HJK-315 said. Strawberry finally looked up at them. "Are you guys ready to play SWAT?"

Operation KILL WATCH 1

Operation KILL WATCH

Foreword: Operation KILL WATCH is a response to the ongoing threat posed by five Greenchild entities inadvertently created by a Type Green Threat upon its termination.

When the liquidation of "Johnson" was enacted, the Coalition has not thought of the possibility of the creation of the entities. Due to the large number of casualties that they have caused in the few years and the threat to the normalcy we are achieving to preserve, the Coalition has enacted Operation KILL WATCH as a last resort against the parathreats.

Operation KILL WATCH is to be executed by Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant" due to their experience in the encounter and termination of the creator of the anomalies. Additional Strike and Assessment Teams will be assigned to the operation to provide assistance to the Strike Team for maximum efficiency.

Primary Objective: The termination of the five Greenchild entities detected across the globe that has an apparent connection to the death of the Type Green Entity, Johnson.

Addendum: Below is the original file of the Type Green Entity, Johnson:

Threat ID: LTE-7783-Green-Warhol "Johnson"

Authorized Response Level: 5 (Maximum Threat, Engage On Sight) N/A (Threat Neutralized)

Description: LTE-7783-Green-Warhol (hereafter referred to as Subject) is a Caucasian male in his late twenties, 1.75 cm in height, athletic and has no recorded relatives. The Subject's name remained unknown and was only identified by its peers in the name, Johnson. The Subject has apparent ties with the Group of Interest, Are We Cool Yet? when a night raid in the Subject's apartment was conducted that resulted in six of its colleagues, who were identified to be members of the GOI, killed.

The Subject managed to escape Coalition operatives through anomalous means and remained in hiding for a span of five years until its resurface in 2012. The Subject was located in Shandong Province of China and was reported to be opening an 'art exhibition' there.

Liquidation: Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant" was assigned for the termination of the Subject. The Subject, although anomalous, was vulnerable to conventional weapons. This weakness resulted in the Subject's termination.

History: First encountered in a raid of an anomalous art exhibition in Queens, New York, the Subject was given a Type Green classification due to its capabilities to manipulate reality. Most of its 'art' was observed to include both botanical and cryologic components. The Subject escaped the raid but not after engaging Coalition operatives.

When another tip has lead us to the Subject's whereabouts, Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant" was dispatched to lead a raid on the Subject's apartment in December 12, 2007. The raid resulted to the death of the Subject's colleagues, who were present at the time of the raid. The Subject managed to evade the Strike Team through the use of its anomalous capabilities.

Five years later, the Subject was reportedly seen in Shandong Province of China, setting up an anomalous art exhibition along with known anomalous artists who were known in the Chinese anomalous art community. Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant" was later dispatched in the termination of the Subject which eventually succeeded. However, a phenomenon was noted to have taken effect after the Subject's termination. This effect resulted in the creation of five entities given with Greenchild classifications.

Operation KILL WATCH 2

A Strike Team based out of Gothenburg, Sweden.
Specializes in the termination of humanoid reality-bender entities.

• Heraldry: An upward sword impaling a skull from below. Unit number is displayed above the heater where the contents of the heraldry was displayed and the team's motto was printed below the heater.

• Motto: Honoris in Mortis

"Gyrfalcon"

Serial Number: 44306987/8871
Title: Team Leader

+ show block

Real Name: [CLASSIFIED]
Nationality: [CLASSIFIED]
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: [CLASSIFIED]

Biographical Information

[CLASSIFIED]

Career Service Vitae

[PRIOR CSV INFORMATION CLASSIFIED]

• [CLASSIFIED]
• [CLASSIFIED]

---

"Mouse"

Serial Number: 44587412/8871
Title: Team Executive Officer

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Real Name: [CLASSIFIED]
Nationality: [CLASSIFIED]
Gender: Female
Date of Birth: [CLASSIFIED]

Biographical Information

[CLASSIFIED]

Career Service Vitae

[PRIOR CSV INFORMATION CLASSIFIED]

• [CLASSIFIED]
• [CLASSIFIED]

---

"Syringe"

Serial Number: 44365287/8871
Title: Medic

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Real Name: [CLASSIFIED]
Nationality: [CLASSIFIED]
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: [CLASSIFIED]

Biographical Information

[CLASSIFIED]

Career Service Vitae

[PRIOR CSV INFORMATION CLASSIFIED]

• [CLASSIFIED]
• [CLASSIFIED]

---

"Radiohead"

Serial Number: 40401121/8871
Title: Communications and Technical Specialist

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Real Name: [CLASSIFIED]
Nationality: [CLASSIFIED]
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: [CLASSIFIED]

Biographical Information

[CLASSIFIED]

Career Service Vitae

[PRIOR CSV INFORMATION CLASSIFIED]

• [CLASSIFIED]
• [CLASSIFIED]

---

"Sword"

Serial Number: 44789632/8871

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Real Name: [CLASSIFIED]
Nationality: [CLASSIFIED]
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: [CLASSIFIED]

Biographical Information

[CLASSIFIED]

Career Service Vitae

[PRIOR CSV INFORMATION CLASSIFIED]

• [CLASSIFIED]
• [CLASSIFIED]

---

"Grave"

Serial Number: 44201478/8871

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Real Name: [CLASSIFIED]
Nationality: [CLASSIFIED]
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: [CLASSIFIED]

Biographical Information

[CLASSIFIED]

Career Service Vitae

[PRIOR CSV INFORMATION CLASSIFIED]

• [CLASSIFIED]
• [CLASSIFIED]

---

"Backflip"

Serial Number: 4417841/8871

+ show block

Real Name: [CLASSIFIED]
Nationality: [CLASSIFIED]
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: [CLASSIFIED]

Biographical Information

[CLASSIFIED]

Career Service Vitae

[PRIOR CSV INFORMATION CLASSIFIED]

• [CLASSIFIED]
• [CLASSIFIED]

---

"Autumn"

Serial Number: 44711242/8871

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Real Name: [CLASSIFIED]
Nationality: [CLASSIFIED]
Gender: Female
Date of Birth: 02/11/19[REDACTED]

Biographical Information

[CLASSIFIED]

Career Service Vitae

[PRIOR CSV INFORMATION CLASSIFIED]

• [CLASSIFIED]
• [CLASSIFIED]

Operation KILL WATCH 3

Threat ID: LTE-6573-Cetus-Greenchild "Son of the Deep"

Authorized Response Level: 4 (Severe Threat, Engage Target On Sight) N/A (Threat Neutralized)

Description: LTE-6573-Cetus-Greenchild (hereafter referred to as Entity) is a humanoid entity that was first detected in the Pacific Ocean. The Entity was noted to possess green coloration in its skin and its yellow eyes were observed to lack irises.

The Entity came to the Coalition's attention when reports of missing vessels have increased from 2020 to 2025. The first encounter with the Entity has resulted in multiple casualties in the assigned STRIKE Teams for the liquidation of the Entity. Termination efforts were increased after the previous attempt when the Entity was observed to react negatively against cyanide.

Liquidation: Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant" were dispatched for the termination of the Entity. The ammunition used for their weapons were infused with cyanide for the purpose of the Entity's termination.

History: The Entity was created by a Type Green Reality Bender, "Johnson", in its subsequent attack in the Shandong Province of China. By the time it was terminated by Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant", five Greenchild entities were inadvertently created. The termination of the Greenchild entities was enacted to achieve the Coalition's Second Mission.

Threat ID: LTE-1142-Plague-Greenchild "The Bearer Of The Plague"

Authorized Response Level: 4 (Severe Threat, Engage On Sight) N/A (Threat Neutralized)

Description: LTE-1142-Plague-Greenchild "The Bearer Of The Plague" (hereafter referred to as Entity) was a humanoid entity with an anomalous ability to manipulate and produce diseases both known and foreign to man. The Entity appears to be a Hispanic male in his early thirties and possesses a silver walking stick.

The Entity was first encountered when Assessment Team 627 "Buckshot" was sent in a desolate town in Bergen, Norway to investigate a growing epidemic which was spreading at a faster rate.

Liquidation: Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant" engaged the Entity with the use of a special type of smoke grenade filled with antibiotics and disinfectant compounds.

History: The Entity was created by a Type Green Reality Bender, "Johnson", in its subsequent attack in the Shandong Province of China. By the time it was terminated by Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant", five Greenchild entities were inadvertently created. The termination of the Greenchild entities was enacted to achieve the Coalition's Second Mission.

Threat ID: LTE-4985-Blackwood-Greenchild "Night Dweller"

Authorized Response Level: 4 (Severe Threat, Engage On Sight) N/A (Threat Neutralized)

Description: LTE-4985-Blackwood-Greenchild (hereafter referred to as Entity) is a humanoid entity. The Entity is noted for its midnight black skin. It possessed the ability to project shadow from its hands and the creation of pocket dimensions where the Entity is known to detain its victims.

The Entity was encountered when Coalition operatives investigated an abnormally large number of missing persons in a span of three months in the city of Antwerp, Belgium.

Liquidation: Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant" utilized a light-based rifle that has the capability of projecting flashes of 10000 lumens per second for the purpose of the Entity's termination.

History: The Entity was created by a Type Green Reality Bender, "Johnson", in its subsequent attack in the Shandong Province of China. By the time it was terminated by Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant", five Greenchild entities were inadvertently created. The termination of the Greenchild entities was enacted to achieve the Coalition's Second Mission.

Addendum 4985-1: Autopsy reports have shown that the Entity was previously a human. Its identity matches that of one "Richard Janssens". Richard Janssens was reported missing in 12/09/2013 and was last seen in his home around 11:30 PM.

Threat ID: LTE-5503-Fiji-Greenchild "Arachnid Worm"

Authorized Response Level: 4 (Severe Threat, Engage On Sight) N/A (Thread Neutralized)

Description: LTE-5503-Fiji-Greenchild (hereafter referred to as the Entity) is a quadruped black arachnid. Its mandibles were divided into three parts where a long tube protrudes from. The tube was utilized as a weapon to launch biological fluids at a certain target.

The fluid was observed to solidify approximately three minutes after being launched from the tube inside its mouth.

The Entity was encountered by natives inhabiting a village in a forested area in Kyoto, Japan. According to eyewitnesses, the Entity showed hostility to the natives and caused [REDACTED] casualties.

Upon death, the remains of the Entity is observed to break into small parasitical lifeforms that can be terminated by compounds typically found in common aerosol insecticides.

Liquidation: The Entity was terminated by Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant" with the use of special insecticides filled inside two cylindrical canisters and dispensed through large sprayer rifles.

History: The Entity was created by a Type Green Reality Bender, "Johnson", in its subsequent attack in the Shandong Province of China. By the time it was terminated by Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant", five Greenchild entities were inadvertently created. The termination of the Greenchild entities was enacted to achieve the Coalition's Second Mission.

Threat ID: LTE-5529-Goodrick-Greenchild "The Daughter of the Heavens"

Authorized Response Level: 4 (Severe Threat, Engage On Sight) N/A (Threat Neutralized)

Description: LTE-5529-Goodrick-Greenchild (hereafter referred to as Entity) was a humanoid entity that appears to be a Caucasian female, 1.59 cm in height and possessed a pair of wings located in her back. The Entity has the capability of healing any persons afflicted by diseases or injuries be it major or minor.

The Entity gained a considerable amount of followers who were all zealously devoted to protecting their self-proclaimed deity. A church in Cluj-Napoca, Romania was established in its honor and most of the inhabitants of the city see the Entity as 'An Angel sent from Heaven'.

Liquidation: Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant" has successfully neutralized the cult devoted to the Entity and the Entity itself through the use of conventional weapons. It is worth noting that the Strike Team struggled with the termination of the regenerating followers.

History: The Entity was created by a Type Green Reality Bender, "Johnson", in its subsequent attack in the Shandong Province of China. By the time it was terminated by Strike Team 8871 "Pacific Exuberant", five Greenchild entities were inadvertently created. The termination of the Greenchild entities was enacted to achieve the Coalition's Second Mission.

SCP

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Keter Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is to be contained in an armed bio containment chamber at Site-78. The hallways leading to the door of SCP-XXXX's containment chamber is to be divided into five sections. Each one is to be sealed by blast doors if SCP-XXXX should attempt to breach containment. The divided hallways are to be installed with ventilation ducts that will dispense neutralization gas (See Procedure-XXXX-Asmodeus). Weapons and any objects that could potentially inflict harm were be prohibited inside the containment chamber. Documentation is to be done through camera, recording or electronic devices.

SCP-XXXX requires no sustenance at this point. Testing of SCP-XXXX is to be approved by personnel with Level 4/XXXX clearance or higher.

The following are the procedures to be taken in the event that SCP-XXXX breached containment:

Procedure-XXXX-Asmodeus: If SCP-XXXX has breached its containment, Procedure-XXXX-Asmodeus is to be enacted. Blast doors leading to SCP-XXXX's containment chamber are to be deployed. Ventilation ducts are to dispense nerve agent compounds that consists of 20% Nitrogen, 30% Cyanide, and 50% Mustard gas. Once SCP-XXXX entered a calm state, the entity is to be escorted back to its containment chamber.

Procedure-XXXX-Beelzebub: If SCP-XXXX has injured any Foundation personnel (including D-Class outside of supervised combat exercise), SCP-XXXX is to be paralyzed with a recitation of the prayer, "Orationis de Exultabo in Salutari" (recorded playing in SCP-XXXX-1), by any personnel of Roman Catholic faith. At this point, SCP-XXXX will enter a catatonic state and will remain unresponsive for the remainder of the entire prayer. Personnel are to escort SCP-XXXX inside it containment chamber.

Procedure-XXXX-Caim: If SCP-XXXX has managed to acquire any weapons or objects capable of inflicting harm, a personnel is to recite any verse found in a Duoay-Rheims version of the Bible. At this point, SCP-XXXX will lower its weapon and drop to its knees. Personnel are allowed to escort it back to its cell (Note: Regardless of where SCP-XXXX is prior to the acquisition of the weapon, Procedure-XXXX-Caim is to be enacted. If it was found outside its cell, do not enact Procedure-XXXX-Asmodeus, enact Procedure-XXXX-Caim immediately).
"Follow the procedure written above this note. We already have a lot of dead personnel for not following the right procedures for the re-containment of the subject." -Dr. Pearson

Procedure-XXXX-Lilith: If SCP-XXXX has managed to escape outside Site-78, the introduction of lavender scent through airborne is to be done. At this point, SCP-XXXX will remain immobile although a loud weeping from SCP-XXXX will be heard and that shall be an indication of SCP-XXXX's location.

NOTE: When enacting this procedures, all personnel are prohibited to use any weapons. Non lethal weapons are to be catalogued and reviewed by 4/XXXX Security Officer before being given proper clearance for issuance to containment personnel.

Revised Special Containment Procedures: Due to the recovery of SCP-XXXX-1 and SCP-XXXX-2, SCP-XXXX is observed to not attempt to breach its containment anymore. The procedures in the previous iteration of the file is considered unnecessary at this point.

SCP-XXXX is to be contained in an armed bio containment chamber at Site-78. Weapons and any objects that could potentially inflict harm were be prohibited inside the containment chamber. Documentation is to be done through camera, recording or electronic devices.

SCP-XXXX-1 is to be stored in a storage containment unit at the Anomalous Object Storage Wing of Site-78. Testings of SCP-XXXX-1 is to be approved by any personnel who has a Level 3/XXXX Security Clearance or higher. The experimentation and research are to be supervised by three guards armed with weaponry compliant to the Weapons Catalogue-XXXX. (See Addendum-XXXX-1)

SCP-XXXX is to be allowed to access SCP-XXXX-1 once in a month for the administration of its medication. Procedure-XXXX-Mikhail is to be enacted one week before SCP-XXXX is allowed to access SCP-XXXX-1. Five guards, armed with non lethal weaponry listed in the catalogue (See Addendum-XXXX-1), is to escort SCP-XXXX-1 inside its storage containment unit. An additional of ten guards is to remain outside in standby, should SCP-XXXX attempt to breach containment but due to the positive behavior it shows, that might not be necessary.

Procedure-XXXX-Mikhail: This procedure consists of the deactivation of SCP-XXXX-1's lethal features as instructed by SCP-XXXX to avoid further damage to any personnel. A Level-3 Technician is to be escorted inside Storage Containment Unit XXXX-1, escorted by three guards armed with approved non lethal weapons.

Once SCP-XXXX has successfully utilized SCP-XXXX, it is to be escorted back to its containment chamber.

SCP-XXXX-2 is to be contained in Provisional Site 78-A, located approximately 5 miles away from Site-78. Information about SCP-XXXX-2 shall be kept from SCP-XXXX. Any personnel who were previously assigned to SCP-XXXX-2 should be administrated with Class-A Amnesiacs to avoid information leaks and a possible containment breach.

Updated Special Containment Procedures: The previous iterations of the Special Containment Procedures for SCP-XXXX is deemed unnecessary. SCP-XXXX is inducted to Mobile Task Force Epsilon-60 ("Breaking Benjamin").

When not assigned to any missions given by the Foundation, SCP-XXXX is to be contained in an armed bio containment chamber at Site-78. SCP-XXXX will be given three hours of socialization to other Site-78 personnel in the cafeteria and two hours socialization to the other members of its Mobile Task Force. SCP-XXXX will not request any additional items inside its containment cell.

SCP-XXXX is to be allowed to access SCP-XXXX-1 once in a month for the administration of its medication. Procedure-XXXX-Mikhail is to be enacted one week before SCP-XXXX is allowed to access SCP-XXXX-1. Five guards, armed with non lethal weaponry listed in the catalogue (See Addendum-XXXX-1), is to escort SCP-XXXX-1 inside its storage containment unit. An additional of ten guards is to remain outside in standby, should SCP-XXXX attempt to breach containment but due to the positive behavior it shows, that might not be necessary.

Weapons and any objects that could potentially inflict harm were be prohibited inside the containment chamber. Documentation is to be done through camera, recording or electronic devices.

SCP-XXXX is allowed to access SCP-XXXX-2 when the entity was assigned to a mission. However, SCP-XXXX-2 is to remained stored in Provisional Site-78-A when not on missions.

Description: SCP-XXXX is a humanoid entity, 2.13 cm tall, blonde, of muscular built and appears to be in its late twenties. SCP-XXXX's eyes is recorded to be glowing every three seconds before reverting back to normal for another three seconds. This process repeats endlessly. Carbon dating on SCP-XXXX's tissue has revealed that the age of SCP-XXXX is over billions of years ago. The entity has shown in-depth knowledge about human history including the creation of mankind up to the events currently happening.

SCP-XXXX has also shown knowledge about thaumaturgy and has the capability to utilize both in harmful and beneficial way. SCP-XXXX can perceive the thoughts of anyone it engaged conversation with and describe such thoughts accurately. Further experimentations has revealed that the entity possesses incredible strength, speed and intelligence. The entity has managed to surpass each tests conducted for the purpose of the entity's Intelligence Quotient measurement. However, the tests have failed to accurately measure its IQ score due to the limitation of the Foundation's instruments.

SCP-XXXX-1 refers to the armor equipped by SCP-XXXX prior to its containment. SCP-XXXX-1 appears to be a Crusader's armor constructed from an unknown type of metal. Analysis has revealed that the material made to construct SCP-XXXX-1 is extraterrestrial in nature. Experimentations of the object's durability has shown that it remains impervious to all weapons known to mankind, be it conventional or thaumaturgic. SCP-XXXX-1 shows sapience through various response to external stimuli. This response includes but not limited to:

• Replying to any questions asked.
• Deployment of additional weapons or accessories when presented with environmental hazards or threats that could potentially be harmful to its user.
• Emittance of thermal energy followed by the object's radiation of light based particles (as of now, the purpose of this particles are still not known).
• Emitting a scent of lavender in the presence of a subject afflicted by a clinical depression.
• A voice praying both in Latin and in unknown language at a certain time of period (For complete reference, see Addendum-XXXX-2).

SCP-XXXX-1 is also hypothesized to perform more than the observed capabilities listed above. Interview Logs of SCP-XXXX has also revealed that the object is also capable of healing its user, although this was not observed to be performed by SCP-XXXX-1.

SCP-XXXX-1 rejects 99% of personnel who attempts to utilize it, mostly killing them in the process through administration of lethal substance located within the object.

SCP-XXXX-2 is a long sword made from an unknown material. Analysis has shown that SCP-XXXX-2 is constructed from the same material as SCP-XXXX-1. However, SCP-XXXX-2 does not show any sentience that SCP-XXXX-1 reveals. SCP-XXXX-2 is noted to emit a faint glow from its blade. A low hum is recorded emanating from the object. This, however, does not causes any anomalous effects to anyone in its presence including any persons who will attempt to utilize SCP-XXXX-2 as contrary to SCP-XXXX-1.

SCP-XXXX-2 can cut into any material. It was also recorded to radiate thermal energy (hereafter referred to as SCP-XXXX-2-A) every time the weapon is swung. SCP-XXXX-2-A affects any object SCP-XXXX-2 is directed upon. This effects varies, from cauterization to combustion, depending to the user's thaumaturgic knowledge.

Any individual who has no prior knowledge to thaumaturgy has failed to trigger SCP-XXXX-2-A when SCP-XXXX-2 is utilized.

Addendum-XXXX-1:

The following are non lethal weapons allowed to be use for the incapacitation of SCP-XXXX in the event that the entity will become uncooperative. The following format will be used for the list:

Weapon Name:
Status:
Date Approved:
Effect:

Weapon Name: T10 Shock Baton
Status: Approved
Date Approved: 09/12/[REDACTED]
Effect: SCP-XXXX's body jerked when struck with the weapon. It repeated the words, "Dimitte nobis". (See Interview Log-XXXX-1)

Weapon Name: R10 Electrocution Gun
Status: Approved
Date Approved: 09/12/[REDACTED]
Effect: SCP-XXXX's body jerked when shot with the weapon. It repeated the words, "Dimitte nobis." (See Interview Log-XXXX-1)

Weapon Name: A canister of lavender scent
Status: Approved
Date Approved: 09/12/[REDACTED]
Effect: SCP-XXXX is recorded to weep albeit it entered into a calmed state.

Weapon Name: A canister of Nitrogen
Status: Denied
Date Approved: N/A
Effect: N/A

Weapon Name: Handheld Flamethrower
Status: Denied
Date Approved: N/A
Effect: At one point, it was tested on SCP-XXXX when it attempted to breach containment. The weapon has no effect on SCP-XXXX and only agitated it further. It was recorded yelling, "mori quam foedari" while charging at the wielder of the weapon.

Weapon Name: A bottle of holy water
Status: Denied
Date Approved: N/A
Effect: The weapon has no apparent effect to SCP-XXXX although noted to calm SCP-XXXX.

Weapon Name: Sound based weaponry
Status: Denied
Date Approved: N/A
Effect: N/A

Weapon Name: Dark thaumaturgy
Status: Denied
Date Approved: N/A
Effect: [DATA REDACTED]
NOTE: Who the hell thought this would be a good idea? -Dr. [REDACTED]

Weapon Name: Type-A Riot Airsoft Rifles
Status: Approved
Date Approved: 10/02/[REDACTED]
Effect: No significant effect is recorded but managed to keep SCP-XXXX at bay for some reason.

Weapon Name: A copy of the Bible
Status: Approved
Date Approved: 10/02/[REDACTED]
Effect: SCP-XXXX enters an unresponsive state.

Addendum-XXXX-2:

The following are invocations recorded from SCP-XXXX-1 that has apparent effect on SCP-XXXX. The prayers are translated to English for reading convenience.

The following format was used for this addendum:

Prayer Title:
Length:
Effect:
Time of Recitation:

Prayer Title: Prayer of Joy in Your Salvation
Length: 3 Stanzas
Effect: SCP-XXXX entered an unresponsive, yet cooperative state. This prayer is used in Procedure-XXXX-Beelzebub.
Time of Recitation: Every 12:00 AM

Prayer Title: Prayer of the Legion of the Flaming Sword
Length: 6 Stanzas
Effect: SCP-XXXX will enter a raged state. When SCP-XXXX-2 is in possession of SCP-XXXX, the entity will look for a target to attack. Any individuals related to Satanism or the Group of Interest, Servants of the Dark Harvest, will be a prime target for SCP-XXXX. When SCP-XXXX-2 is not in possession of SCP-XXXX, the entity will engage those targets in hand to hand combat.
Time of Recitation: Every 9:00 AM. When played by SCP-XXXX-1 regardless of the presence of SCP-XXXX, the entity will not enter an active state that it typically shows when the entity itself invokes the prayer.

Prayer Title: Prayer of the Sword
Length: 3 Stanzas
Effect: SCP-XXXX usually recite this every combat exercises. SCP-XXXX will remain vigorated in the duration of the combat exercise and will not show any signs of exhaustion.
Time of Recitation: Every 8:00 AM or in time of practice.

Prayer Title: Prayer of Defence
Length: 2 Stanzas
Effect: N/A (Effect not recorded)
Time of Recitation: N/A

Prayer Title: Prayer of Healing
Length: 1 Stanza
Effect: Any individuals within earshot of SCP-XXXX and SCP-XXXX itself will be healed regardless of the severity of their injuries.
Time of Recitation: N/A

Prayer Title: Prayer for Battle
Length: 1 Stanza
Effect: Any individuals and SCP-XXXX itself will enter a raged state. SCP-XXXX is observed not to attack any individuals who shares the same state as it.
Time of Recitation: N/A

Prayer Title: Prayer for Victory
Length: 1 Stanza
Effect: N/A
Time of Recitation: 11:00 PM

Prayer Title: Prayer of Thanksgiving
Length: 1 Stanza
Effect: N/A
Time of Recitation: 12:00 PM

Prayer Title: 3 o'clock Prayer
Length: 2 Stanza
Effect: N/A
Time of Recitation: 3:00 PM

Interview Log XXXX-1

Interviewer: Dr. Raj Singh

Interviewee: SCP-XXXX

Notes: The Interview took place three weeks after SCP-XXXX's containment.

[BEGIN LOG]

Dr. Singh: SCP-XXXX, please tell me about yourself.

SCP-XXXX: Greetings, Raj. My name is [EXPUNGED]. I am the Second Captain of the Flaming Sword Legion, a Scion of Michael and the Doom of the Hellspawns. [SCP-XXXX looks around.] I see that you have kept a large number of creatures here. Such horrors never existed in our realm.

Dr. Singh: How did you know my name?

SCP-XXXX: I know everything, Raj. Even the viewers behind those devices. [Points at surveillance cameras] But do not worry…Doctor. I know where to mind my business.

Dr. Singh: You mentioned something about a 'realm'. Is this where you came from?

SCP-XXXX: Yes. The Hourglass Universe is comprised of thousands of dimensions that leads to one place to another. This dimension is one of them.

Dr. Singh: What realm did you originated from?

SCP-XXXX: Does it matter, Doctor? Let's just say that this was a duplicate of that universe. In other universe, all of this is probably a fiction being written by some kid. In another, it's probably a movie being watched, and in another, this transcript is probably being read as a history text.

Dr. Singh: We will continue this next time. Goodbye, SCP-XXXX.

[SCP-XXXX turns away and ignored Dr. Singh.]

[END LOG]]

Class-C Amnesiacs are to be administered to personnel who were assigned to interview SCP-XXXX

NOTE: An alteration of the interview log was observed when SCP-XXXX omitted its name. SCP-XXXX is seemed to be unaware of it.

Interview Log XXXX-2

Interviewer: D-58975

Interviewee: SCP-XXXX

Notes: Dr. Singh has requested to be transferred to another project. D-58975, who was administered with Class-C amnestics and given with a fake identification to prevent information leakage, replaced him. D-58975 assumed the entity of a "Dr. Chris Walsh".

[BEGIN LOG]
D-58975: Good morning, SCP-XXXX.

SCP-XXXX: Good morning…Doctor.

D-58975: Please tell us about where you came from?

SCP-XXXX: I find your welcome so warm in the cold cell you gave me. [Looks at D-58975 for three minutes in complete silence] My name is [Alteration to the video feed] and I came from the Alpha Realm.

D-58975: Can you tell me what kind of a realm is that?

SCP-XXXX: Just the same as yours. It was plagued with monstrosity.

D-58975: How did you end up here?

SCP-XXXX: That was a good question. We were fighting a large number of Demons…I forgot what Legion that is but they were being aided by the Servants of the Dark Harvest. Those damned beings…they had us surrounded.

SCP-XXXX remained quiet.

SCP-XXXX: When you found me, have you also found my Battle Suit?

D-58975: Excuse me?

SCP-XXXX: My Battle Suit?

D-58975: I am sorry, you are not authorized to ask any questions, SCP-XXXX and you haven't answered my question yet.

SCP-XXXX: We have fought the Demons in the northern part of Realm-5, where your realm and dimension is located. Our objective is to provide the First Company of our Legion a cover by spearheading attacks against Hell's vessels. We have succeeded until the Servants came and obliterated my company, the Second Company. I was lucky because I wind up in this dimension.

D-58975: Who are these Servants of the Dark Harvest and by the sound of it, you are fighting a war.

SCP-XXXX: We do. The Demons are advancing and it will only a matter of time before they conquer this realm of yours. That's why I need access to my Battle Suit.

D-58975: Are there any other realms outside of this 'realm'?

SCP-XXXX: Yes, and to answer your next question, yes, the other realms were also battlegrounds between Heaven and Hell. We were told to protect this realm in secrecy, but I believe there is no point of hiding it to you know, since you are in the brink of destruction.

D-58975: How do we stop it?

SCP-XXXX: You have me, as long as I have access to my Battle Suit.

For a long period of silence, D-58975 replied.

D-58975: Thank you for your time.

[END LOG]

Following this interview, SCP-XXXX attempted to breach containment seven times before SCP-XXXX-1 was found. SCP-XXXX seemed to have ceased attempting to breach its containment upon learning of SCP-XXXX-1's whereabouts.

A ZK-Class possibility was taken into consideration. SCP-XXXX was tested through combat exercises and was classified as 'Keter' upon seeing its destructive capabilities in combat.

SCP-XXXX has shown proficiency in hand to hand combat, melee combat, small arms fire and rifles proficiency and thaumaturgical combat. SCP-XXXX was not recorded to utilize any of this when it attempted to breach containment before the acquisition of SCP-XXXX-1. However, when an individual points a weapon at it, SCP-XXXX will not hesitate to injure the individual lethally.

Interview Log-XXXX-3

Interviewer: D-58975 (Under his assumed identity, Dr. Chris Walsh)

Interviewee: SCP-XXXX

[BEGIN LOG]

D-58975: Good—

SCP-XXXX: Thank you, for finding it.

D-58975: You've warned us about such entities.

SCP-XXXX: You would not want to encounter them. Given the level of technology your people possess, you wouldn't stand a chance against them.

D-58975: Where is the rest of your legion?

SCP-XXXX: My brothers are aware of your Foundation's activities. They wouldn't attempt to conduct a planetfall lest they spark an all out war that would result to your realm being reduced into molecular stardust.

D-58975: I understand. What allegiance does your Legion serves?

SCP-XXXX: God.

D-58975: Are you aware of SCP-343?

SCP-XXXX: [VIDEO FEED INTERFERENCE]

D-58975: So, you are Angels?

SCP-XXXX: No, we are former Fallen Angels who were forcefully conscripted by Lucifer to join his rebellious army before the Judgement of Prime Earth. When the Grand Master of the Legion learned of his treachery, we have fought a guerilla war in Hell and managed to topple the government a little bit until the little turd kicked us out of his kingdom. We surrendered to Michael and in Purgatory, we were detained until the Son of God judged Earth. After Lucifer's fall, the remnants of his army retreated to Realm 12 and, out of God mercy, we were inducted back to the Heavenly Hosts but not as full Angels because falling from grace degrades you. Do you not see I have no wings? We were assembled into a probationary legion but we managed to attain full legion status. We have fought thousands of battle across the Hourglass Multiverse. Even if we managed to acquire full pardon, we cannot help but feel guilty of almost everything, like all of the good things happening to you, you know in yourself that you never deserve it. Anyways, to make long story short, we fight and bleed for Heaven until I got translated into realspace here in your realm.

D-58975: Thank you for your time, SCP-XXXX.

[END LOG]

SCP-XXXX is allowed access to SCP-XXXX-1 once every month. SCP-XXXX's mood was observed to have improved after allowing access to SCP-XXXX-1. Containment procedures were also revised.

Interview Log-XXXX-4

Interviewer: D-58975 (Under a false identity)

Interviewee: SCP-XXXX

[BEGIN LOG]

D-58975: Goo—

SCP-XXXX: They're coming, I sensed them.

D-58975: What are the signs we should know to see as indication that they were arriving?

SCP-XXXX: The Servants appears to be scarecrows made out of black hay. They were surrounded with purple flames. If you see purple flames in the sky or if the sky turned purple, that was your indication that they will arrive.

D-58975: How do we stop them?

SCP-XXXX: They were not ordinary Demons. So there is no available option other than to treasure every second you have remaining in your world.

D-58975: Why is that?

SCP-XXXX: I know your superiors would not allow me to fight them. You don't trust anything you caught.

D-58975: What about your brothers?

SCP-XXXX: Like I said, they were not allowed to conduct a planetfall.

Both went silent for a minute.

D-58975: Goodbye, SCP-XXXX

[END LOG]

An event consistent to the indication that SCP-XXXX has described took place. Permission from Site-78 Director to utilize SCP-XXXX is still pending.

Permission-XXXX

ACCESSING DATA FILE XXXX/0001…

To: Site-78 Director
From: Dr. Richard Emerson, Containment Specialist
Subject: XXXX

Director,

We request permission to weaponize SCP-XXXX. If SCP-XXXX warning is authentic, we are possibly facing a ZK-Class scenario. SCP-XXXX might be the only salvation we have.

-Dr. R. Emerson, Site-78 Containment Specialist

To: Dr. Richard Emerson, Containment Specialist
From: Site-78 Director
Subject: XXXX

Director,

Are we not gonna learn something about Omega-7? XXXX is probably fabricating stories just to breach containment, and all of you are willing to fall for it.

-Site-78 Director

Incident Report-XXXX

INCIDENT REPORT-XXXX:

Several instances of unknown humanoid entity has successfully completed atmospheric entry via a large unidentified vessel. The instances (hereafter referred to as E-1) began to advance towards north of their position, invading Mexico and its surrounding neighbors. There are [REDACTED] confirmed civilian casualties, and counting. Local law enforcement agencies and military forces were mobilized to address the growing security threat. However, the efforts to terminate the instances remained low as local security forces were overwhelmed.

Mexico has fallen under E-1's control six hours after they made planetfall. E-1 instances are continuing to advance at the time of writing. Several civilians were recorded to have been converted to E-1 instances.

NOTICE-XXXX

BY THE ORDER OF SITE-78 DIRECTORATE:

SCP-XXXX is to be inducted into Mobile Task Force Epsilon-60 ("Breaking Benjamin") for the purpose of increasing termination efforts of E-1/XXXX instances. SCP-XXXX is allowed to have access to both SCP-XXXX-1 and SCP-XXXX-2 for maximum efficiency. Foundation operatives are also to be inducted to MTF Epsilon-60 to provide support for SCP-XXXX.

Should SCP-XXXX established contact with any entities that belongs in its kind, if possible to be contained, they are to be inducted to MTF Epsilon-60 as well.

Time is upon us now. The fight will decide the fate of our survival. Good luck to all of you, and pleasure to be working with you all. Consider this a death note should we not get through this.

-Site-78 Director

GOC Tale 1

Assessment Team 576 "Dead Delta" arrived on what looks like a massacre scene. Spike examined the bullet holes on the makeshift shelter, the broken palisade, and the corpses of men in combat vests. He approached one of the corpses and knelt a knee down.

"Who would have thought, these guys aren't what they really were." Another Agent said behind Spike. Frankenstein removed the corpse's balaclava and lifted its upper lip with armored fingers, to reveal rows of sharp dagger-like teeth. The chompers of the corpse was abnormally pointy than an average human teeth.

"Hey Doc Frank!" Agent Bison yelled, examining a dead black doberman. "I think you wanna see this."

The two raced towards Bison and upon arrival, Bison revealed the canine's teeth, also abnormally large, and its eyes, bright red. Three bullets had penetrated through its ribcage by an assault rifle.

"Who and what are these things?" Frankenstein asked. Being a field surgeon in the Medic Corps with a background in pathology, Frankenstein has never seen anything like the corpse he was seeing now.

"Well, I don't know." Pumpkin says as she approached the rest of the team. She emerged from the makeshift shelter with a journal in hand. "But these things, I'm pretty sure they were vampires."

"Bag it." Bison says as he stood. "We'll call the Cleanup Team to sterilize the area. We got what we need. Let's move out."

---

"Have they retrieved the Staff?"

"Yes, Commander."

"What happened then?"

"Post Action reports stated that there are no casualties in the Strike Team, but the enemies were…neutralized with no survivors."

"Good. Were they already debriefed?"

"Yes sir. They're on their way back to Belfast."

"What about the Assessment Team? What did they found?"

"They have arrived at 0900 hours, sir, and retrieved this."

"What else?"

"They have also acquired a corpse for autopsy and research. The Cleanup Team arrived and successfully sterilized the entire area."

"Good."

GOC Tale 2

Scorpion took a deep breath, his VERITAS detected multiple life signatures below them. He crouched as the watch light swept past overhead, he was almost caught by the guard on the tower. He glanced behind him and saw Wolf, making his way while silently hacking through banana leaves, vines and tree branches.

"Okay, final check. Grendel One, do you copy?" He asked, making sure his voice was heard on the mic below his chin.

"Grendel Two, I copy, over."

"Grendel Three, loud and clear."

"Grendel Four, mic online."

"Grendel Five, I hear you, sir."

"Grendel Six, reporting in."

"Grendel Seven, ready for action."

"Grendel Eight, ready."

Nodding, Scorpion returned his gaze back down. The camp was established on a clearing, surrounded by tall dark green trees. It was enclosed with palisades and four watchtowers overseeing the surroundings.

Inside the palisades were five tents and a shelter made out of logs. The structures were built in a semi circle, surrounding a bonfire in the middle.

The camp was guarded by roving guards and Dobermans.

"Hawkeye, Arjunay, take out the nearest watchtowers, then take out the remaining two." He briefly glanced behind before issuing another order. "Leopard, Tiger and Payday, provide diversionary fire. Make sure their attention is not to us." In the background, he could hear the distinctive sound of CHAMELEON skins activating. "Wolf and Arachnid, on me."

He watched as Arjunay and Hawkeye took up positions not far from them and the diversionary team slowly making their way down below, occasionally stopping when a watch light wandered too close or their movements had interfered with the functions of the CHAMELEON.

"Wait for Arjunay and Hawkeye." Scorpion spoke over the mic. "Arjunay, Hawkeye, your shots will be our signal."

For a brief moment, their surroundings suddenly become quiet. Arjunay wasn't sure if silence had befell around them or it was just his adrenaline flowing through his nerves. He raised his aim and peeked through his scope, putting a man's head in the crosshair. He examined his enemy briefly: grey balaclava, green combat vest and jungle camouflage. He was armed with a smuggled M4 Carbine rifle.

Both Arjunay and Hawkeye shot their targets simultaneously. Within seconds, Arjunay's target slumped to the ground. His head was reduced to crimson gore.

Upon hearing the shot, Leopard raised his squad automatic weapon and opened fire at the guard in front of him. The man convulsed as multiple bullets shredded through his flesh and fabric. He slumped on the wall behind him, leaving trails of bright red liquid as he slowly hit the ground. Tiger and Payday sprinted through the palisade, breaking it down with a kick. The whole camp was suddenly alerted as six men filed out of the makeshift shelter with handguns, racing towards one of their tents which Scorpion presumes to be their armory.

"Showtime, boys!" Scorpion yelled as he dashed below, Arachnid and Wolf trailing behind him. When they hit the ground, two more shots erupted from both Arjunay and Hawkeye.

The third and fourth watch towers were disabled.

Scorpion aimed at one of the men from the shelter with his SCAR-L rifle. Most of them were not wearing vests, which makes them easy targets for Scorpion and his team. He wasted no time as he fired. The first man hit the ground with four bullets on his chest. He aimed at the second one and squeezed the trigger, hitting his chest three times and the third one was hit in the shoulder and torso.

After that, he sprinted towards the tent in the middle, where they keep it.

He was going to retrieve the artifact. It is what they came for anyway.

He sprinted past two armed men. The two raised their weapons at Scorpion but were shot dead by Arachnid and Wolf. One more tried to intercept him but Arachnid had put a bullet on his head without mercy.

Scorpion reached the tent and found a steel crate in the center, secured with a chain. His VERITAS scanned crate; the artifact inside emits high amounts of EVE signature, a long wooden stick surrounded by thaumaturgical energy. He carried it and sprinted back the way they came from.

The Strike Team, upon seeing Scorpion with the package, began to retreat. They have inadvertently left no one alive but it makes their escape easier than expected.

In a matter of minutes, Strike Team Twilight Grendel was gone. A chopper was hovering not far from the enemy camp and the Strike Team has already embarked and left the area.

GOC Tale 3

Day 1

So we arrived in the jungles here at [DATA REDACTED] with the rest of the team. One of the Predator Teams arrived after we set up the whole encampment with a crate. They told us to protect it. They immediately left.

Day 2

I was honored by His Greatness, Lord Dracula, to entrust us to protect one of the feared artifacts that his Unholy Right Hand had retrieved. The Base Commander briefed us about guard rotation and schedules. We began by 0300 hours, changing shift and looking for intruders.

Day 3

The Staff of Moses was completely hidden in the crate. So Base Commander told us that a Retrieval Team would arrive six days from now to transfer the artifact somewhere safe. We couldn't afford the risk to let this artifact simply laying in an open camp like this.

Day 4

By His Unholy Eminence, Lord Dracula has given us as a way to preserve our race. Dragging people away in the night and sucking their blood has become impossible for us due to the existence of organizations that "deals with the paranormal." We have to rely on poultry but that has also alerted the said organizations when the owners of some barn found their cattle and chickens missing. So we need to take the alternative way.

Day 5

The Staff of Moses, the fabled staff, wielded by a prophet, was said to turn great bodies of water into blood. One day from now, the Retrieval Team will arrive to transfer the artifact and finally, that will end our hunger once and for all. Praise be to the Unholy Lord, Count Dracula.

Cover

Other tales goes over here.

Meeting

The Archangel Michael glanced around the facility while he was accompanied by his Protectorate since he knew who these people are and they have trusted him as much as he trusts them. The Agency, before its incarnation as the SCP Foundation, was known to be scavenging the battlefield where the wars between Heaven and Hell were fought. They showed up in the Watchtower as a faction of interest but no one was inclined to attack or destroy them because they were not even doing anything that might affect Heaven’s interest badly.

“Protektovare,” Michael called at Blackshot by his Legion’s Enochian name. “Where and how did you find these people?”

“I know, sir. Protectorate Blackshot replied. “They were…weird. But the amounts of things they have contained were too many to count.”

“That I know.” Michael was at loss of words. Just walking around the steel corridor, he could already feel the malicious presence of everything that the Foundation had detained. They walked past numerous researchers and guards, who glanced at them. Had it not for Blackshot’s former colleague, whom they knew as ‘Buggeman’, the guards would have probably shoot at them due to Michael’s abnormal, yet beautiful appearance.

“How’s life since the Agency’s reformation?” Blackshot asked Buggeman.

“It was fine, but of course, we need to operate clandestinely just like before, to which we don’t have any difficulty, lest we spark an all out war with the Remnant Order.”

“Yeah,” Blackshot replied. “Why did you asked for our assistance?”

They turned to the left and walked down the hall. As they reached the end of it, Buggeman opened a door to their right and entered.

“That information is classified to Level 4 Administrators. I believe that before you left the Agency, you were given a Level 4 Security Clearance, as well as I.” Buggeman ushered the former Human and the Archangel inside. Buggeman closed the door behind Michael.
He squeezed his way to the long table in the center of the room where a projector was resting. Blackshot could see the chairs beside the table along with a folder containing sheaf of papers. The lights went out and the projector was activated as soon as Buggeman pressed the ‘on’ button.
The projector, facing a whiteboard, displays an image of five Black Poison Insurgents in their Mark II Exosuits. Blackshot shot him a quizzical look.
“You need help from…Insurgents?”

“No, they were not Commie Innies.” Buggeman says as he pressed another button on the projector where a symbol of a group was displayed. It was a black skull with four lines crossing the skull horizontally. “These Group of Interest calls themselves the Spooks. Data gathered from this GOI revealed to us that they splintered off from the Black Poison Society after the Riots of 2030’s. The GOI in question utilized the same Mark II Exosuit that they got from the Society, except they use dark thaumaturgy.”

“You mean Dark Arcane Enochian?” Michael interrupted. His voice was so deep and loud that the Hybrid and Buggeman jumped.

“Well…yes, if that’s what you call it in Heaven. They have carried out raids to numerous Sites like Site-10, Site-49, and Armed Containment Reliquary Area-06. They were snatching off artifacts related to SCP redacted.”

“What do you mean redacted?” Blackshot asked.

“I don’t know, it just says redacted in here.”

“Whatever it is,” Michael interjected. “You are asking for our help to hunt them down?”
“Yes, my Lord.” Buggeman replied.

“I am not your Lord.” He glanced at Blackshot and beckoned him to come. They left the room, leaving Buggeman behind.

“How did you made contact from such a group like this?” He asked.

“They contained Brother Vengeance before. They mistook her for these things they call ‘Glitch’, which is an equivalent of something unusual. I’m not sure how to put it due to the amount of ‘unusual’ things we were dealing with.”

“That was before they become the Foundation?”

“Yes.”

“What did Sergeant-Commissar Vengeance do?”

“She got bored and kicked the door out of containment…it’s what the file says. To summarize, the Protectorate Legion is not in good terms with the Agency before its incarnation as the Foundation. I guess I was the only one who worked with them.”

“Fine. We will help them just this one, although, we cannot ask for the Remnant Order’s aid for this. The Church was already dealing with a lot of problems and I don’t think they will take kindly to groups such as this.”

“What do we do with them after this, sir?” Blackshot asked.

Michael didn’t answer. The Foundation is good at its job of containing things. Even he was a powerful Archangel, he doesn’t know the answer. Their existence was crucial for the normalcy of the world they were living in. Instead of their dissolution, he was thinking of the Foundation’s preservation.

“Get inside. We will deal with the Spooks.”

list

NOTE TO SELF: Transfer this and empty the tabs attached once I got home. Pastebin is too cluttered for this.

1

O Heavenly Father, the Maker of Life and the Giver of Relief,
bless us with good health to continue our work that we relentlessly present to you.
May our work bears bountiful fruits for Your Greater Glory.
May You use us as instruments to Your Will through these duties that we fervently commit ourselves into, we pray.

Saint Raphael the Archangel, O Angel of Health, soothe our ailing spirits with the balm that the Lord has entrusted upon you.
May we obtain the strength to continue this day and may we acquire peace when doing so.
Cheer us our saddened spirits and raise our morale to continue our work faithfully.

I ask through Christ, Amen.

SCP-069-PH-TAG

Aytem Bilang: SCP-069

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: Ang SCP-069 ay kasalukuyang nagpapanggap bilang isang dating Ahente ng Pundasyon na si [DATA REDACTED], at kasalukuyang nakapiit sa Humanoid Containment Site-06-3. Ang SCP-069 ay puwedeng bigyan ng kahit anong bagay na hihingiin nito basta't naaayon sa Protokol Seguridad ng Pundasyon. Ang SCP-069 ay kasalukuyang nakalista sa Suicide Watch, lahat ng bagay na hihilingin nito ay dapat may pahintulot ng hindi bababa sa dalawang Level 3 Personnel.

Kung ang SCP-069 ay sinubukang tumakas mula sa pagkakapiit, it ay kinakailangang pigilan sa pamamagitan ng hindi nakamamatay na paraan. Kung sakaling mamatay man ang SCP-069, ang mga undercover na ahente ay inaatasang subaybayan ang mga reports ng insidente kung saan ang isang indibidwal ay nakaligtas sa isang bagay na tiyak na ikamamatay nito at dito ay puwedeng mahuli ulit ang SCP-069 sa lalong madaling panahon.

Babala: Kasalungat ng pagaakala na ang SCP-069 ay magkahalintulad kay Agent [REDACTED] sa lahat ng bagay, ito ay mananatiling aktib na SCP sa containment, at hindi puwedeng tratuhin bilang isang empleyado ng Pundasyon. Lahat ng hilinging klasipikadong impormasyon ay hindi pahihintulutan at ang pagbisita ng mga dating katrabaho na walang awtorisasyon ay hindi papayagan.

Deskripsyon: Ang SCP-069 ay isang inaakalang humanoid entity na kahit anong panlabas na anyo o kasarian. Sa pamamagitan ng isang hindi maipaliwanag na kakayahan, kapag ang SCP-069 ay naiwang magisa kasama ang isang kamamatay na bangkay, ang katawan ay maglalaho at ang SCP-069 ay magagaya ang anyo, kilos o kaalaman ng bangkay nung ito pa ay nabubuhay.
Sa pamamagitan ng masaliksik na pagaaral, naipakita dito na ang SCP-069 ay hindi naiiba sa indibidwal na ginaya nito, lahat ng fingerprints, DNA at [DATA EXPUNGED] ay magkahalintulad na walang bahid ng pagkakaiba. Ang SCP-069 ay walang alaala patungkol sa dati nitong nakopyang indibwal. Ang SCP-069 ay naapektuhan ng sakit at sugat at kung ito man ay mamatay, ito ay mabilis na maaagnas. Walang anumang paraan ang naging mabisa para mapreserba ang katawan nito. Ang SCP-069 ay lilitaw sa lugar kung saan may indibidwal na kamamatay lamang. Walang hangganan ang epekto nito at dahil dito, ito ay naobserbahang tumatalon ng hanggang 675 kilometro.
Ang SCP-069 ay may kakayahang kopyahin ang isang indibidwal ng walang limit. Pero, ito ay magkakaroon ng pagtatangkang “ibalik ang kanyang buhay sa ayos”, kasama pero hindi baba sa: pagaayos sa problemang pinansyal at personal na obligasyon, pagbisita sa malalayong kamaganak, dagdagan ang huling habilin at iba pang mga bagay. Noong itinanong, ang SCP-069 ay umamin na walang ibang motibasyon kundi ayusin ang kanilang buhay bago ang biglaang pagkamatay.
Ang SCP-069 ay unang napansin ng Pundasyon noong █/██/199█ base sa isang report tungkol sa isang John M███████, isang bumbero ng █████████ City na himalang nakalabas ng buhay sa isang 3-alarm building fire kung saan 2 bumbero at 11 sibilyan pa ang namatay. Ang mga undercover na ahente na nakalagay sa lokal na awtoridad ay nasabihan patungkol sa isang posibleng SCP ng maisama sa report na ang gamit ng bumbero ay nasira at sinasabing imposible para sa bumberong ito na makalabas ng walang sugat. Makalipas ang tatlong linggo, ang inaakalang si John M███████ ay hindi na natagpuan pagkatapos rumesponde sa isang malaking gusaling nasusunog kung saan pinasok niya ang umuusok na kuwarto magisa. Isang sibilyan ang nailigtas mula sa gusali, at ito ay walang bahid ng sakit kahit napupuno ng usok ang gusali. Sumunod na araw, ito ay kinlasipika bilang SCP-069 at naibigay sa kustodiya ng Pundasyon sa tulong ng mga miyembro ng Mobile Task Force Xi-3 (“Body Snatchers”).

Addendum 069-01: Noong ██/█/200█, si Agent ███████ █████ na nakadestino bilang guard on duty na naka assign sa SCP-069, ay napatay pagkatapos ang isang containment breach ng SCP-██ at di kalayunang, ginaya ng SCP-069. Kahit pilit nitong tinatanggi ang bagong katauhan, ito ay masugid na sumusunod pagkatapos ng pangkokopya sa isang empleyado ng Pundasyon. Mga plano upang gamitin ang SCP-069 para sa mga mamamatay na empleyado ng Pundasyon ay pinaguusapan.

Addendum 069-02: Noong ██/█/200█, ang SCP-069 ay sinubukang magpakamatay pagkatapos masambit ng isang junior researcher na ang pamilya ni Agent ███████ ay nasabihan na si Agent ███████ ay patay na at ang mga reaksyon nito sa kanyang kamatayan. Dahil sa malakihang posibilidad na kinakailangang mahuli muli ang SCP-069, isang striktong suicide measure ang iiimplementa. Ang mga plano para gamitin ang mga namayapang empleyado ng Pundasyon para gayahin ng SCP-069 ay itinigil.

MTF Gamma-57

Armed Reliquary Site-039 is the home of a hundred anomalous objects and entities that has connection to the Abrahamic faith. Some were raided from facilities occupied by the Horizon Initiative, some from the ORIA, but most were obtained from supernatural beings banished by Mobile Task Force Gamma-57 codenamed, "Jetpack Reverends".

While the site has the name 'Reliquary' in it, the objects it contained were mostly demonic and paranormal in nature. The 'holy' items acquired throughout Gamma-57's years of service were mostly used for the containment of the dangerous unholy artifacts.

Its personnel were comprised of Researchers, but mostly, former chaplains of the Anomalous Battalion of the Philippine Marine Corps, that also makes up Gamma-57. Their expertise were requested by the Anomalous Battalion and the Foundation.

It was night, when Deacon Santos received a distress call from a squad of Marines currently fighting a group of beings known in the Philippine Pantheon as the Manananggal. The transmission was brief; Santos heard static after the Marine pleaded for help.

He signed himself before the crucifix attached to the wall just above a large drawer. He pulled one of its handle open, revealing two golden Berretas with an embossed crucfix on the muzzle. He opened the shelf below the drawer and retrieved the plates of his armor.

Quickly strapping it onto his body, he holstered the two pistols on the drawer and the clips inside. He turned to the wall to his right and knocked rhythmically. An operative of Gamma-57 will never forget the important piece of his armor.

The Reverend and his fellow Priests were just returning from a mission after they received a call about a demonic exorcism. Deacon Santos was the only one left in the Cathedral at that time. The wall he was facing slowly parted, revealing a jetpack device the size of a briefcase. It was easily concealed with a long robe, cloak or vestige, should the need to do so arises. The jetpack was encased on a glass.

He lifted the jetpack from its case and attached it to his back. It hummed to life, but not activated to send him to the roof of the cathedral. He returned back to his room and retrieved the standard blessed sacraments that cases like this usually required.

"Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio." He muttered as he walked out of the room.

---

The scene was a bloody mess with multiple limbs strewn around. The caller slumped against the wall with a missing ribcage. He was lucky, compared to his *buddies who have suffered worse fates. Decapitated heads, amputated limbs, exsanguinated corpses.

One of the perpetrators stood on the top of the corpses with a cleaver at hand. She has a long messy hair that covered her face and grease stained shirt and long skirt. She bent and began hacking the body, mutilating and dicing it to the point that the corpse couldn't now be identified. She tossed each pieces to a fellow Manananggal, who began hamstringing the pieces.

Deacon Santos was watching from above a roof. The bloodied alley was narrow and the night was already old for anyone to notice the five monsters in the dark. He watched them desecrated the corpses of their victims further before deciding to take action.

Lighting a blessed candle which he had pulled from his kit, he dropped it on the top of a Manananggal. Its head exploded in blood and dark flesh before its headless corpse slumped to its knees and fell. Deacon Santos panted. His face was filled with fear but had it not for the visor before his face, his enemies would have seen it.

The collective Manananggal let out a loud screech. Santos dropped a tape recorder that plays the Latin version of Saint Michael's prayer. For some reason, these monsters were greatly affected by it.

They fell also to their knees, yelling obscenities. Santos wasted no time aiming and firing at the incapacitated monsters.

Three down, however, the third one vomited a lungful of blood at the tape recorder, ruining it.

When the prayer stopped, one of the monsters detached herself from her lower body and flew towards Santos. The Deacon activated his jetpack and flew upwards, holstering his guns and drawing his sanctified blade. It was a relic crafted from the bones of a Saint. The monster was too close and too fast for his pistols, resorting to a melee weapon would be the best solution for this.

He made a wide arc, bisecting the monster in half from the forehead to its torso. Santos watched the last one escape. The Deacon noticed that the monster was the youngest of all if he is to ignore the fact that she was a monster. He flew down on the alley and sliced the lower body of the one he had killed earlier. He proceeded to chase her.

Her attempt to escape was useless when the Deacon aimed his gun at her and fired. The bullet penetrated through the neck and out of her throat.

She slumped forward, dead. Santos walked away. The monsters' corpses would burn away after dawn and, Foundation personnel embedded in the police department would simply make a cover up story about a raid gone wrong against a violent insurgent faction.