BluePinpoint and Boogey_Man23 - Sandbox
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Reginald remembered the moment like it was yesterday; waiting excitedly at his computer for the email notification sound that his project had been confirmed. He bit his lip in anxiety as he refreshed his inbox until… DING. Project accepted. He relaxed in his chair, his shoulders visibly slackening. He wasn't able to suppress the huge grin on his face, nor could he suppress his happy little chuckle. It seemed so simple then…

Reginald swiveled in his chair slightly, rain pattering on the window outside. He was filled with anxiety as he constantly refreshed his inbox. He sipped a small glass of scotch and ran his fingers through his short brown hair nervously as he waited for his salvation, for his deus ex machina, for his guardian angel to tap on the door, (if someone's guardian angel was composed of an adequate sum of money). At last, after he had broken the refresh key…

Re: Funding Adjustment Request


Upon review of your most recent request for additional funding, I must advise that said request has been denied. As we have previously informed you: Until your project can be shown to reliably meet all of its stated objectives, no further expenditures will be considered.

As it was you who conceived the program, you are responsible for having underrepresented the costs associated with maintaining it. The lack of any demonstrable benefits to our Site from this outpost as-is, combined with the incident which occured last March, are the main factors in our assessment. Bear in mind that there are numerous ongoing operations in your area which are considered a higher priority, and could make effective use of your currently allocated budget.

Site-90 Office of Administrative Review,
~Dr. Albrecht

He closed the email and threw his glass of scotch against his office wall. The first two denials were acceptable losses, but this one hit a soft spot. The windows were cracked, his leather chair was torn, he was running out of time before the walls fell down around his ears. The second to last line of the email reopened a wound he wanted to keep closed. Reginald understood it was his fault, but the Foundation failed sometimes too, right?, he reasoned.

He shook the thought off and checked the time, 10:27, time to run night procedures. He swept the glass from the floor, trashed it, and walked out of his office. He stopped at the supply closet, grabbed a mop, tinted cognitohazard-safety goggles, a set of keys, and and a coloring book. He closed the office door to hear small footsteps behind him.

"Rosie, what are you doing out of your room? We're all about to go to bed."

She responded as coherently as a 4-year old could, "Chase me!" She ran down the halls, and Reginald simply walked after her, trying his best to not make any noise. As he was about to catch her Rosie ran right through wall into her room. Reginald sighed and unlocked her door to find her trying to pick up a small doll. Her hand simply passed through it.

"Now, Rosie, don't you be waking up the other kids, okay?"

"Okay, Weggie", she responded. Reginald took out a small translucent key, stuck in a keyhole in the wall, and turned it. With this, Rosie was able to pick up her doll and climb into bed.

"Goodnight Rosie"


Reginald walked back out into the hall to hear a faint shriek like a dog whistle, and covered his ears. "Ah shit", he mumbled to himself.

He ran four doors down, opened the door and immediately handed Jared the coloring book. Jared's high pitched whines turned into small sobs, then complacency as he took interest in the coloring book. He calmed down, started to draw, but before he could even realize, became sleepy and slumped over on the floor. Reginald lifted him into bed, turned the lights out and slipped out.

Luckily, the commotion hadn't woken up any of the other kids. Reginald checked their rooms to make sure they were all asleep. As he approached John's room, he readied the mop, and unlocked the door. John was fast asleep on his bed, but in his room remained orange juice covering the floor. Reginald mopped up the orange juice as quietly as he could while John slept. After five minutes of mopping, he looked up at John to see his bed lightly stained with more of the tart drink. Reginald just smiled to himself and went back out to the hall, locking the door as he left.

His last check of the night was Vivian's room. Goggles on his face, he opened the door slowly. There Vivian sat on the edge of her bed, legs to her chest, arms around them. She was the oldest of the bunch, and thus Reginald had a harder time dealing with her. She stared at Reginald as he walked in, or at least he thought so, as the goggles blurred her into a shady outline.

"Why am I not allowed to go outside, Reggie?"

"We've had this discussion Vivian, you're not like the other people, you're more special, you have a gift that they don't understand."

"Oh really? Do I? Take your stupid goggles off, then!"

Reginald didn't change his expression and tried his hardest to stay sincere, "Vivian, you know I can't do that. That's part of your gift." She jumped off the bed and attempted to storm out of the room, only for Reggie to block the door.

"Vivian, go to bed", his voice stern.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong with me, or why I'm here, or who wants me to stay here!" She refused to move.

"Vivian, I-… I can't do that, and you know that. You're a smart girl an-"


He hastily backed out of the room and locked the door behind him, Vivian's screams persisted from the other side of the wall. The goggles were cast to the floor as Reggie strode quickly to his office and sat at his computer. On the surveillance monitor, in the panel showing the specially filtered feed of Vivian's room, Reggie could see she was sitting aganst the wall in the same posture as when he'd first entered her room. Even as just a shady outline, Reggie could recognize she was sobbing. He pressed a couple buttons on a panel he'd labeled 'If Necessary' and a thin gray gas filled her room; before long she was asleep on the floor.

Reggie sat with his head in his hands, a teardrop fell to his keyboard. This was becoming all too common; it began to feel like the difficult days were outnumbering the positive ones. He left the computer and climbed into his bed, but could not sleep. He tossed restlessly in his sheets, all his troubling thoughts kept coming and going and returning again. Was it my fault? Should I have known it couldn't be done? They'd scrap the whole program if I told them that. He turned and buried his head in a pillow. It isn't quite what I outlined in my proposal, but it should be adaptable after the fact. After showing the demand. Haven't I shown them? How important this is? How much it's needed? How much it means for them? Is it so unthinkable that we might actually do something good when it's in our power to do so? He had very nearly drifted off when a gunshot outside snapped him wide awake.

Across the street, through the heavy rainfall, Reggie could see two teenagers standing and facing each other. A pistol clutched in hand, an expression of shock and terror; but both belonging to the bigger of the two. The shorter teen (or were they even older than 12?) calmly removed a bullet from his chest and dropped it on the ground. The armed teen turned and ran, the boy returned his hand to the place where he had been shot (Reginald, later, would note that not even a scar remained).

Reginald's excited reaction was nearly instant. He hurried down the flight of stairs and into the front hall, even running into an endtable barely slowed him down as he fumbled to turn on the lights. His coat hung on the wall, nearby sat the backpack he kept stocked for just such a situation: flashlight, standard-issue taser, signal flares, low-grade amnestics kit, some snacks and bottled water, and a spare jacket. Jerking his arms into the sleeves of his raincoat, Reggie swung the bag over his shoulder and sprinted out the door.

Out in the cold, wet, New York City night, Reggie caught sight of the boy just up the road: strolling casually and casting glances down each alley they passed by. Typical noises of the city at night were muted and distant, the sound of puddles splashing under heavy footsteps rose as Reginald tried to catch up with the only other person out on the sidewalks. The boy glanced back, did a double-take as he registered that there was a stange man running toward him, and disappeared around the next corner. 'Oh bother,' Reggie thought to himself.

Two pairs of feet now pounding pavement echoed down the narrow alleyway. Reggie might have tried calling out, if he thought he could spare the breath to do it without slowing down. For a couple blocks he strained to keep up, until finally the kid hit a dead end in a derelict construction site. Reggie slung his bacpack under his arm so he could reach inside. A moment passed where all that could be heard was each party struggling to catch their breath, and rainfall echoing through the incomplete structure.

"Please," said Reggie, still panting. "I'm not going to- … not trying to hurt you."

"Get that light out of my face, man!"

Reggie had taken out the flashlight to illuminate the dim room; upon realizing he was shining it right into the poor boy's eyes he promptly cast the beam downward. "Sorry," Reggie apologized. "That other boy back there, he shot you… Are you okay?" The child didn't respond, but was slowly inching toward a small gap in the crumbling wall nearby; not wanting to allow Reginald to close the distance between them. Reggie resolved to try talking gently from where he currently stood, lest he have to give chase once more; or worse, lose track of the child completely.

"It's a cold night out," Reggie began a new tactic. "You could probably use…" Reggie set his backpack down in front of himself, trying to retrieve the coat from the bottom without letting any of the other items spill out. The boy, curious, edged slightly closer. Reginald triumphantly pulled the coat from the bag, and held it for the boy to take.

The pair of footsteps splashed along the sidewalk as they walked back the direction of the chase, towards Reginald's place. "What is your name?"


"So tell me Daniel, what happened between you and that other boy?" he inquired.

"Well, we… we were havin' an argument and he decided to bring up my mom", he said slowly.

"What happened then?" Daniel refused to speak for the rest of the walk back. They passed many interesting buildings on their walk back. A flower shop that had been looted and covered in graffiti, a coffee shop that was now boarded up and overgrown with several species of weeds. Towards Reginald's place they passed a Mexican restaurant, of which its sign had been torn down and windows broken. Daniel stopped and stared at the restaurant with a certain yearning, not wanting to move.

"Everything okay, Daniel?" Daniel still didn't respond, and walked up to the restaurant. "I'd be careful Daniel, there's probably fifteen different diseases in there, you shou-", but he had already slipped through a hole in the door. Reginald jogged up to the same door, "Daniel? Daniel, where did you go? I don't want you getting hurt now." Reginald pried some of the door's boarding out of the way so he could enter as well. There he shined the light on Daniel standing in the far corner of the dining area, staring into the empty kitchen. The chairs in the dining area were either broken beyond repair or non-existent, the tables had all rotted, the carpets had stains every color of the rainbow. The walls of the place had already been covered in mold, and a fine brown dust hung in the air. "Daniel, are you okay?"

Daniel continued to stare into the kitchen, then turned around to face Reginald, "My dad used to work here." He broke down and started to cry, to which Reginald walked over and knelt down with him. He guided Daniel out of the restaurant and across the street.

Reginald pulled out his walkie-talkie and hailed (Once again, idk who to put here, like an important Foundation person), "This is Reginald, I've recovered another one." No response.

Finally they were back. Reggie's Home for the Oddly Gifted. The sign slanted downward slightly and was in serious disrepair. It looked like a broken carnival sign; tacky, yet inconspicuous. No wonder it had worked for so long in this part of town. Reginald opened the door and led a still teary-eyed Daniel upstairs to a vacant room. There, Reginald interviewed him for hours, asking everything from favorite foods to the strange ability Daniel possessed. Once the favorite, Daniel tucked himself into bed and dozed off, and Reggie walked back to his office.

Reginald was about to start typing up Daniel's information until his eyes stuck to Grace's file for the nth time. The thoughts of that very day began to flood back into his head, the panic in the air, the words of false encouragement, the apologies. He quickly opened the cabinet under his desk to retrieve a handle of vodka and a glass, and drank until he passed out in his torn leather chair.

He woke up, slumped in his chair, to the sunlight pouring in from outside. He stumbled up, fixed his hair, his clothes, his face and walked out of the little office. He checked the time on the way out, 10:30. He was late. He ran back to his office to change clothes and grabbed his car keys on the way out. He was about to make his way to a secluded spot that hid his dinky sedan until he noticed something. Silence. He stood very still, not making a noise. The moment hit him, and he bolted from room to room. John's room, empty. Vivian's room, empty. Rosie's room, empty. Jared's room, empty. He forgot to lock Daniel's door when he gave him his new room.

Reginald panicked and ran outside, only to run face first into a Foundation armed guard and fall onto the ground. The building had been surrounded with armed guards. "Wha-, I, where are the kids?" Reginald squeaked out, concerned.

"That's your job Reginald, and it seems you've failed to do that", emanated a voice behind the guard. A staunch female figure stepped out from behind the guard. "You're time is up, Reginald." "(Some important Foundation person),

"This happened because YOU couldn't increase the f-"

"Shut up Reginald" she replied. "You decided to head this 'minimalist operation, and you've failed. Now a bunch of rogue entities have been let loose on New York, thus wasting our time. Face it, your experiment failed." Reginald struggled for words, but knew she was right. He slowly got up, only to be grabbed by the armed guard he ran into. He was shoved into a van and all information pertaining Reggie's Home for the Oddly Gifted was eliminated.

Site Director Andrews was sitting, staring at the Incident Report that had been on top of his desk since that morning. He glanced up when Assistant Site Director Albrecht tapped on the door.

"Come in," he said with a wave of his hand.

Dr. Albrecht took a seat. About a minute of uncomfortable silence passed before she finally spoke up.

"It was made to seem viable on paper." Albrecht hesistated briefly before continuing. "A lot went wrong in practice, though. Projected capacity for entities was exceeded, human resources weren't made use of…"

"One person can't take care of all that themselves," Andrews said. "Especially when they're off the wagon."

"Agreed. Did you see the notes he had for each of the k-… excuse me, entities? 'Claims she knows 'Panish, but I know that silly goose is lying.' Does that sound professional to you?"

"No, it does not." Andrews rubbed his forehead and sighed, visibly frustrated. "He clearly can't handle it. We should have pulled the plug on this thing before the breach. Now we've got half a dozen anomalies loose all at once in the country's most populated city… What's the situation on that now?"

"Pi-1's got eyes out for them right now. We've scrambled all the security and containment techs we can spare from Site, and have another containment MTF dispatched and en route."

"And the outpost itself?"

"All equipment recovered, building swept clean, no trace left behind." Albrecht added "Trust me. I went there myself."

"Good. I'll also trust you to continue coordinating the response effort."

Albrecht shifted in her chair. There was only one thing left to address. "So, as for…"

"Dr. Reginald himself, yes…" Andrews furrowed his brow and tapped his finger as he considered the decision. "Clearly not suited for any kind of management role; possibly unfit to work with humanoids at all. Hmm… There must be some low-value object storage facility in need of another containment technician." Andrews shuffled the sheets of the incident report together and returned them to the file folder. "I'll authorize a transfer, Human Resources can fill in the blank on where they need more bodies. Maybe he'll have time for self-reflection while he's sorting lockers in a warehouse somewhere."

"I agree, sir."

Papers were signed, the incident report was filed, and nobody at Site-90 spoke of Reggie's Home for the Oddly Gifted again.




Collectors Edition Bonus Content Disc!


  • A "Making-Of" Featurette
  • Production notes from the set
  • Commentary track featuring the authors