Eitri Black Market, Olken City:
The knife was resheathed, the pass examined for a second before the thief nodded respectfully and left. Lawful crime, an interesting thought. One would think it wouldn't work in practice, but the thieves tended to be terribly strict on unlicensed crime. The money they made off of these evolved, orderly protection rackets was enough to make actual thieving worthless; why take the money, when they paid you handsomely not to?
Despite that, this man wasn't one anyone wanted to steal from anyway, it was more for the flair of it, something the thief could show off. The Archivists were the top tier of this city, the founders. They were even rumoured to know the identities of the þrír bússǫld themselves. This man (if he was indeed a man at all), was their leader: The Curator.
Phaedrus chuckled as the thief scampered off, one of the few cities where daylight robbery was the norm, and perfectly lawful at that. The guild seemed to be prospering more than ever with extra workers flooding in through the Ways; it seems to be due to a surge of displaced Hybrasil workers down on their luck end up in Olken. Thinking about the Thieves Guild, he hoped Leon was doing alright in that Casino he calls home. The Thief Master was a long time friend of Phaedrus and had helped him numerous times; his spies were some of the best in the business and some of them even became part of the Archivist Chameleon Division.
Whilst Olken City was mainly known for its factories, the guilds within the city played a major role both inside and outside the city borders. Blacksmiths from Olken were known Nexus wide for their product quality and worker skill thus, often gained favourable employment in other Nexuses. Along this spider web network of Olken Citizens, gossip and information ran rampant, with Leon sat in the middle of it all.
Phaedrus checked his watch, 15:45; ten minutes to get to the sýnrúm to see the bússǫld council. Despite many beliefs, the council weren't some eldritch deities. He should know, he was one of them.
It should be noted here that the þrír bússǫld were seen as almost gods to the residents of Olken City. In an extremely crude example, they are what an English Monarch is to the British colonies; A distant regal figure who they give thanks to every so often, but tends to actually do very little.
The main running of the city was left to its own business. An inquisitive AI sometimes liked to have a look over all the figures when it got bored with running jobs for others, which ended up being pretty often. But, it was mostly a free-spinning economy.
After a brief walk through the soot heavy avenues of the Freyr district, Phaedrus felt ready to handle the important parts of today. As he walked down the main avenue towards the sýnrúm the sea of people parted around him, their voices following him like a cloak of whispers. The title of Curator, head of Archivists, gained him a high degree of respect in society; but, it did mean he couldn't blend in at all.
He strode into the giant council building, rumoured to be the only building in this city without ash stains. White pillars, like trees, reached upwards to the cavernous ceiling, and seats lined the floor, neatly arranged. The speaker's podium bathed in warm golden light, behind it, an inconspicuous white metal door with a small touchpad. Phaedrus typed in his access code. The scanner flashed green displaying the name "Týr" on it briefly. Then the heavy metal door slowly swung inwards, revealing a room with three cubicles no larger than a broom cupboard, two currently occupied, along with a small elevator. With a nod to the Wolf on duty, Phaedrus entered the final cubicle and plugged the offered wire into his custom chip.
The inside of the sýnrúm virtual space was a huge feat of coding prowess, it could accurately display and simulate different areas of the explored multiverse for the council to enjoy.
Unfortunately, it didn't.
Currently, it displayed a dusty library… Admittedly not just any library, the wandering library in its prime was the backdrop for today's meeting. But… It was still just a library. To be fair, it could very well be said the actual contents of the conversation within the space was more important— but that lacks finesse in my lack of eyes.
Sitting in their carved wooden chairs and beautiful ebony planning table they plotted. This wasn't really Phaedrus' area of expertise, so he sat back as Eir and Brokkr discussed the plan of action. His part so far had been done with relative ease. The Chameleon operatives had successfully embedded themselves with the local timelines' populous and the Dolphins contacted Anderson for a local supply deal. The Starlings were on standby for any Church or Sarkic activity.
"Oh and Týr, what happened about the Wolf who was lost in Three Ports?"
Phaedrus jerked out of his reverie, "Ahm, his gear has been recovered and the Foundation Site personnel amnestisized. We have agents nearby if any leak is found to have occurred. I had, however, noticed some disturbance at Site 11, of course, that wouldn't have anything to do with you would it Brokkr?" He grinned slowly.
A chuckle came from the other figure. "Of course not, you know me Týr."
"Indeed. That's why I am worried,"
"Idle speculation gets us nowhere, the Foundation finding of our existence was going to happen sooner or later. I trust Embla-002 is… still… in its container, Brokkr? And Phaedrus, you have been sent Phase 2. I will be dealing with trouble back in W-042 with the Beavers and thus will be out of contact for a while. Please try not to cause too much chaos while I am gone.
"Goodluck and goodbye gentlemen."
Eir swiftly disconnected. Phaedrus glanced at Brokkr, who gave him a sly smile. Phaedrus sighed as Eir disconnected, this could be a long couple of weeks.
All 3 figures blinked out of the room. For such a boring backdrop, it was a pretty melodramatic meeting really. Although, it is often like this leading up to a major hinge.
— Olk.aic
Valet
Hex
Orchitty
HunterDog
DrUnoriginal
Three Portlands
June 2015. Thursday:
Phaedrus strolled through the cobbled streets, his shoes echoing through the silent blanket of night. A quick left turn took him into a hemmed in alley, darkness pooling in the corners. A pale hand splayed out in an unnatural position. Phaedrus sighed. Dragging the body into the open, he went through the pockets with precision.
A letter was hidden within the inner part of the suit jacket. Phaedrus slid it out carefully, as to not rip it, using his blade to flick it open.
“Dear Valued Customer
Thank you for your interest in our humble company. However, spying on us is not (and will never be) tolerated. However, I would like to speak at the earliest possible occasion. I am always interested in new business ventures and your agent has given me much to think about.
Sorry for any problems caused due to the nature of this letter being delivered.
MC&D”
His face thoughtful, Phaedrus turned and headed towards the nearest way out into Portland, UK. The letter was firmly stored within an inner pocket for deliberation at a later date. He mourned the loss of one of his agents; however, he thought it a fair compromise for his gambit.
Back in the alley the rats suddenly darted for cover as a hand reached down, checking the inner pocket of the fallen man with obvious intent. After a second of searching, the figure pulled out a phone and made a call. A few words were exchanged in hushed tones and once finished, the figure quickly set off. Whistling, they beckoned forward, 2 shadows quietly detached themselves from the walls.
A gravelly voice softly spoke, “Message delivered, head back to base,'' hitching a ride on a passing trolley, their group headed towards Prometheus Plaza.
Unbeknown to all, a seemingly inconspicuous watch sat in the corner whilst all this was happening. A small, almost unnoticeable glint as the pale light of the street beyond shone down.
Almost a full 7 hours passed before there was more movement; a couple passed the alley and happened to see the body. This incident was reported to the Three Portland's City Council and then passed onto the UIU from them. The body along with the watch, a fountain pen and a silver chain were recovered. Both the pen and silver chain were kept by the UIU owing to their lack of immediately visible anomalous properties. However, after intervention from the Foundation, mainly from Containment Director Sophia Turner, the watch was handed over for study owing to slight irregularities.
The Foundation, Site-64:
Date: June 2015. Friday:
Site Director Edgar Holman rubbed his bleary eyes as yet another stack of papers landed on his desk. William Johnson smiled sympathetically at Edgar and left; his job done for the day. Holman took a quick look at the first one, another murder, he was about to file it away when he noticed the linked anomalous object. Not something particularly impressive really, he thought, but an interesting find. He made a note to talk to Sanchez about the discovery.
Dr Sam Evans was pretty new to this whole Foundation gig, he had kind of, naively, expected to be working on some cutting edge anomalous tech… Instead, he was stuck with a watch.
It wasn't just any watch though, it uh— it… changed speeds near different anomalies, sort of an anomalous compass of a kind. Turner, his boss, had given him a book about something called "Humes" which was meant to help, but just ended up confusing him more so. Luckily, he had a meeting with her later that was meant to clear things up a bit.
(talk about him going to caf? being alone, finding his way around facility)
Sam slowly opened the door, seeing Dr Turner sat working quietly at her desk.
"Hey Sam, I hope you are doing alright?"
"Yeah, uh, can I ask you a few questions?" He said nervously.
"Sure! What do you want to know?
"The "Humes" book, I didn't quite understand it."
Turner went to reply but there was a huge bang. The shrill sound of sirens echoed throughout the facility.
Sam went to open the door— but his arm was grabbed by Turner, the sound of heavy footfall becoming louder in the hall, “Alpha squad follow me, Beta Squad head down to wing B.” The neighbouring reply was heard further down the hallway.
Turner hazarded a peek, “CI, fuck. Why here of all places”. Deigning to respond, Evans hunkered below the desk. Once the Insurgency members passed, they carefully moved towards the door— which suddenly swung open to admit a tall man in doctors attire along with a black mask and dark glasses. A smooth Canadian voice emanated from within the mask.
“Hello, sorry to interrupt.”
“Why are you CI agents here, there are plenty of other sites with many more SCPs,” Turner said carefully, trying to get over towards her draw.
The man chuckled, “CI? I think not, however, they do serve as a handy distraction”.
Turner looked puzzled, “who ar…” but, before she could finish, the man shot her with a dart, a dazed look fell across her and she fell heavily to the ground.
“An amnestic dart, I don't believe your lot has invented it yet,” said the figure, before Evans could ask. “Sorry Sam, you are too much of an unknown variable to us.”
“But, who are you, how do you know my name?” whispered Evans.
“Me personally? I’m just Percy, Percy Macdonald”, replied the man, ignoring the second question. He slowly raised the gun, pointing it squarely at Evans’ forehead.
Evans tried to stay composed, “why are you doing this, you could have taken the watch and gone!”.
Percy sighed and said, “We are covering our tracks; besides, two is a crowd.” With a sharp bang, Evans fell silent.
“It had to be done. All their information on Embla-003 is now wiped,” quietly said a distorted voice from the doorway, holding up a small USB stick.
“I know #31, doesn’t make it any easier” muttered Percy looking at the corpse.
The strangely distorted voice echoed along the halls “Four if you please, also if it makes it any better, he was a risk to the Foundation even if we left him,” said Four.
"Murdering innocents in the grander scheme of peace,” Percy replied shaking his head. As he turned, a gold six was shown on the side of his mask, etched into its surface.
“Well there you have it Six, whilst being the universe's archivists isn’t easy, someone’s gotta do it,” replied Four softly. Grabbing the watch lying on the table next to Turner, both of them shifted out. They left the Chaos to clear up the mess and claim responsibility, as if they had never been there.
Raynes
DrUnoriginal
13th Sunday 2307 - Archivists Pocket Universe, Unknown
A-1 was just finishing filing the last of the tax slips before flipping through the pile of unfinished paperwork. The next document awaiting completion was a strip of white paper with a series of seemingly endless empty fields, each accompanied by a one-liner question. The title at the top read: "Review for the Employee of the Month." He groaned.
Hearing a light knock on the hardwood door, he shouted: "Come in!" Sam Evans, also known as R-1, walked into the room smoothly; a man refined by age, rather than taken by it. He raised his eyebrow at the mess on A-1's desk.
"Sorry, are you busy?" he said with a smile.
"If I'd known why you let me take over, I would have refused," replied A-1 shaking his head slowly. "Anyway Sam, what is it that you want from tired old me?"
"Nothing too major. Dolphin Squad Fjórir needs some more parts that we can't acquire easily anywhere in this timeline, and Wolf Squad Ein want some action again. You're still the best backup we have — you in?"
"I Haven't hit the range in a while though."
"I am sure it'll come back to you. You'll have to act like the stern Curator in the field though, no slacking off like you did in Soho." R-1 winked.
A-1 feigned exasperation. Looks like this week was going to be much more interesting than he thought. "What's the brief?"
"A gang with a less than stellar reputation has organised a meetup with some of our agents. Apparently, the agent was overheard at the Eurtec Eitri Market; personally, I don't advocate for working with thieves and thugs, but we may need to get our hands dirty."
Strolling towards the storage area, he nodded to the guards on duty, no identification badge needed. He walked up to the first free room on his right, placing his palm upon the scanner. After a brief pause, it flashed green, displaying "A-1, Identification Accepted".
"What can we do for you today, Phaedrus? Haven't seen you here in a while," said a soft disembodied voice.
"Not too bad, Olk, Evans finally has a job for me," he shrugged. "Gets me out of the office."
"About time, you were wasted there. Standard kit?"
"Yeah, please. The custom Barrett M82A1 as well."
"As you wish."
The white wall slid open smoothly, a draw with the classic kit contained within, alongside a smooth black case. He strapped on the kevlar composite vest and clipped the recently refined Embla-003, courtesy of the Dolphins, onto his wrist. "Have the rest of the Wolves come see you yet, Olk?"
"They were here 1 hour and 37 minutes ago, standard kits were issued."
"Perfect, thanks. I would say take the rest of the day off, but not sure anomalous AI constructs get that pleasure."
"I am quite happy here Phaedrus. I can mess around with the white coats if I get bored."
Phaedrus let out a hearty laugh, "Goodbye Olk."
"Goodbye Phaedrus."
Phaedrus and Wolf Ein squad stood next to the lodestone, Embla-004, checking their watches. He nodded. They all turned the dial to the 60-degree mark and pushed.
16th Wednesday 2307 - The Eitri Black Market, Eurtec
With a slight shunting feeling, they arrived in the back of a small black market tech store beside another instance of Embla-004. The Chameleon agent that currently owned the shop greeted them enthusiastically, vigorously shaking Phaedrus' hand. He then handed them all a chip with a map of the area stored on, and some of the local currency.
After some quick good luck messages, they exited from the back entrance. The journey to the local black market of Eitri should only take around 10 minutes, and then set up and preparation should only take around 5. The whole operation should be wrapped up in just under 45 minutes.
It was getting dark and windy in the black market, thus Phaedrus wanted the deal with the shady arms tradesman done as quick as possible. He wondered if he was getting a bit old for all this, despite all his complaining about the desk job, it was rather cosy. It wasn't as if he got cramp, or ever felt cold, but sitting like this for around half an hour tended to get slightly uncomfortable. Unfortunately, MC&D hadn't been able to find the required item, and the goose chase for it had led him here, awkwardly set up on the low, somewhat flat roof of an illegal vape shop, with his Baretta rifle trained on the shop front.
Finally, it was starting. Scoping in, he watched Wolf Ein-2 and 3 enter the building and start talking with the trader. Wolf Ein-4, 5 and 6 took up positions by the entrance. The gang they were dealing with were notorious for shady deals and backstabbing.
This whole area was rife with shops like these. The GOC supposedly policed Eurtec, but it was well known for its black markets and paracrime. Many assumed that they took bribes to stay out of the way which benefitted all parties. Although, it did mean the shops in this area weren't known for being the most trustworthy establishments. Gangs were the real force in this district, roaming the streets, looking for any incentive to fight or enforcing protection rackets.
Sure enough, something wasn't right. Phaedrus saw one of the 'bodyguards' speaking covertly into his microphone. The dealer seemed to be trying to stall for time. Sighing, he readied the cross-hair onto the bodyguard.
Bang.
The gun bucked slightly, his tensed shoulder absorbing most of the blow. Blood blossomed onto the wall behind the man as he slumped to the ground, viscera coating the clean white wall. The dealer turned to run.
A rush filled Phaedrus' head, the thrill coming back. He wasn't meant for desk work. This is what he was made for. Breathing in the smoke from the shot; he felt happier than he had in a long time. It was great to be back in the field, even just for potentially one run.
Flicking on his headset, there was a few grunts and yelps before silence fell. He heard Wolf-2 state calmly "We advised you not to try anything. Consider this a final warning. Now, the trade?" Phaedrus watched Wolf 3 and 4 quickly restrain the remaining men inside the building. After confirming the neutralization of all hostiles in the area, Phaedrus refocused on the dealer.
The scrawny dealer turned to look at his dead guard and chuckled, "Alright then, what can I do for ya lads?"
10 kevlar vests and 5 quantum tachyon processors later, the Wolves exited the building. "Can't blame a man for tryin his luck!" the dealer shouted out the door. Phaedrus shook his head. It was like most of this city were living so close to death itself that they liked to flaunt the line. He turned off the mic.
Kneeling by his sniper rifle, he meticulously took it apart, lovingly packing it into its custom case. It will need oiling later, he thought idly. It was a shame, he hadn’t been out in the field for a while and the rifle was just sitting there, collecting dust. Perhaps it was time to try to take on another apprentice. He would have to mull that thought over and talk to R-1 if he had any suggestions. R-1 always had been better with judging people in that way. Oh, he also needed to meet Six in W-006 for a debrief on current events; the Hinge was soon and they needed to be ready.
Thank you to 
OCuin, 
mjl, 
TheyCallMeTim and 
Calibri Bold for their crit on the first iteration of my draft. Also thank you to 
Nagiros, 
Cyvstvi13,
Popsioak and 
cybersqyd for final draft crit.
A tale to introduce a group that I am working on. I hope you enjoy!
Chatter and noise filled the air. The smell of freshly cooked meat hit Four’s nose, he sighed. The ambience of this place was great. He put down his glass and smiled at his companion.
“I feel as if you are enjoying this too much Four,” said Six disapprovingly.
“When in La Rue do what the La Rue’ians do, or something like that,” said Four. Taking a last longing glance at the platters of food around him, he jumped off the barstool. Chatter of twenty or so patrons echoed around him, the music of their voices swirling around the humble bar full of interesting tidbits.
Quickly drinking the scene in as he left, he saw Six watching him. “Do you not feel it lad? All the information flowing like a river of gossip, its beautiful!” He exclaimed.
Six shook their head, not quite managing to hide a grin. “Who are we meeting here Four? All you said was they were an “informant”.
Four chuckled. “If I told ya that, it’d be no fun”
Six looked at him slowly, an eyebrow raised, Four just winked slowly.
Eyes subtly followed the pair as they left The Never’n Not, outsiders weren’t a rare occurrence here but these people stuck out like a sore thumb. Quickly getting out a notepad, their details were noted down along with the peculiar chameleon badge upon their shoulder. Thinking slowly, they sipped the beer.
The two slipped through the throng in the Market Square as the sun set. The stalls were packing up, but the after-party certainly was not. "Didya get the location I sent to ya?" said Four worriedly, Six stood still for a second, his eyes glazing over. "Take a left out of the square, you didn't forget already did you?" Six said.
"Weeeell, I mighta been busy concentrating on the ambience of the place".
Six sighed "You were busy looking at the waitress weren't you". Four looked sheepish.
"Ooh one of Andersons', we don't often see your kind around here." A tall, well-built man stepped out of the gloom
Outside the sun was rising, its rays steadily bathing Portland in a honeyed glow. Two masked figures sat in a small country bar. The outside wall adorned with ivy gently waving in the sea breeze, a blanket of silence only punctuated by the creaking wooden sign depicting a gold crown. "So, any news?" The voice came from the tall man on the left, an imposing figure with an equally imposing voice.
The reply was from a man far from home, a rough slow drawl at odds with the scene, "The Insurgency seems to be preparing for a Foundation raid, not sure it matters to us either way… Hang on there was something else…"
"Ah yes!" he continued. "The Foundation seems to be planning an MTF raid into one of MC&D's storage warehouses. They asked us to help hold them off till they can move everything out."
Phaedrus thought for a second, "I will take the Wolves again, we need some more exercise."
"Good to see ya gettin back into it," replied the Canadian, a grin tugging at his face.
Sarah, the current server, headed over to the table to take the bill. Despite it being early, these men weren't an unusual occurrence. They seemed to like watching the sea whilst being left to relative privacy.
Interesting fellows though, she mused, looking out the window. Turning back she saw the larger of the two staring at her with his head cocked. She gave a little yelp and tripped over a buckled wooden floorboard that she had completely forgotten about in a brief moment of shock. A half-empty pint flew over, just missing her head and landing right in her lap. Mortified, she looked at the men in the corner. As the larger of the two stood and went to walk over, she tried to scramble up.
A hand came into vision.
"You lookin like you be needing a hand?" She accepted it gratefully, and with the help of the Canadian's firm grip, she wobblily stood up. The other figure walked over to the tab that lay in a puddle of beer from the spilt pint. He brushed it off, and placed it on the table along with a pile of coins, before turning to leave. She noticed him pointedly ignoring her, as well as her mistake, and frowned.
She watched as both men exited the door. "Thanks!" she hollered at the Canadian.
"Sorry for the trouble ma chérie!" the stocky Canadian shouted back, flipping something towards her. She caught it by instinct. A small silver coin lay in her palm with the letters "AV" etched onto its face and ringed by a series of notches on the edge. Before she could shout a farewell, they were gone. Shaking her head, she pocketed the coin and went to change. Probably the most exciting thing that would happen to her for weeks, she supposed.
- MC&D Warehouse protection
Containment Class:
esoteric
| ITEM NUMBER: SCP-XXXX |
LEVEL-03/CONFIDENTIAL |
| CONTAINMENT CLASS: SAFE |
DISRUPTION CLASS: VLAM |
| Assigned Site |
Site Director |
Research Head |
Assigned MTF |
| Provisional Research Station 364 |
Dr. Xavier |
Dr. Vane |
MTF-Zeta-10 (Time Travelers) |
CONTAINMENT CLASS: THAUMIEL
Site Director
Dr Director
CONTAINMENT CLASS: THAUMIEL
Containment Class:
esoteric
Secondary Class:
terminal
Per 
