BluePinpoint and Boogey_Man23 - Sandbox
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[…] These efforts would focus on low-risk targets of minorly anomalous nature. Following a holding period for initial assessment, these would then be transferred to Site-90 for processing as deemed appropriate. This protocol should allow the Foundation to contain a number of anomalies which might otherwise go unnoticed, as well as give the Site's Researchers and Containment Techs a headstart on the documentation and analysis of incoming anomalies.

Dr. Reginald read over the cover letter of his proposal yet again, wary of any error or typo he might have somehow overlooked in all of his previous proofreading efforts. Not that finding it now would be of any use. Each member of the review panel, currently seated opposite him at the table, already had a copy in front of them. But in these anxious minutes between concluding his presentation and responding to questions from the panel, Reginald embraced any diversion from his nervousness. At last, someone cleared their throat. Chin up. Deep breath.

"Does this proposal really serve the Foundation's interests?"

"I believe it does, sir. A proactive approach to identifying and containing these anomalies will reduce the chances of a civilian stumbling upon them first, which could be disastrous in any number of ways."

"You feel this Outpost can be staffed by a single operative?"

"Yes, ma'am. With partial support from Site-90's personnel as needed. But the routine duties, as outlined, can be seen to by just myself."

"[A third question. Because rule of three.]"

"[A third answer.]"

Hushed whispers between Site-90's senior staff members. Ruffling sheets of paper. The pound of a stamp. Approval.

"No, that won't do." Reggie paced back and forth in his office, one hand holding his phone and the other clenched in a fist. "Absolutely not! How can- … Damnit, she's just a child! … How can that even- … Why?!" Reggie's scowl grew more intense as he listened to what he was being told. "Alright," he growled through gritted teeth. "Alright, fine then. … Fine! But I'm putting in a requisition for more of that solution. And it better come through quick." With that, he ended the call.

You have 1 new message.

Hey Reg! It's Justin here. Calling because we're, ah, we're reviewing some logs here for month-end and, ah… Well, it's looking like there's a bit of a dropoff in how frequently you're, uhh, in touch with us here at Site. Now I went ahead and pulled last month's, plus the month before, and it does look like, ah, like a bit of a trend there. Yeah… So, ah, gimme a call back when you can, right? Because, well, it's gonna- gonna have to go up the chain here if I can't get ahold of you. Okay? So, ah, yeah. Thanks!


He shook the thought off and checked the time: 10:27 PM, 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.


Finally they were back: Reggie's Home for the Oddly Gifted. The once bright and colourful sign was now worn and faded, hanging loosely askew from its place on the building. It was tacky and in disrepair, but in this neighbourhood that made it completely inconspicuous.

Having settled Daniel in one of the (few remaining) unoccupied rooms, it was there Reginald conducted his interview. He began with noting the official assessments: name, age, appearance, anomalous conditions. Reggie spent more of the time asking after 'less official' information about Daniel: his history, previous living conditions, what did he like to eat? It was very late before the boy drifted off to sleep and Reginald silently withdrew to his own office space.

(Profiles collapsibles w/ personal notes here)

Reginald was about to start a new entry for Daniel, but he stopped short as his eyes settled on one particular file. An 'inactive file' that could have been archived away in a different folder and left alone, but Reggie hadn't done that. Instead, he did now what he always did: opened the file and, for the nth time, read what he had written there.

(Grace collapsible here)



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