Per 
Hi this is zhendirez speaking.
My profile picture is my cat Peter.
"Who are you?"
"I can't tell you. All I can say is that I need something from you."
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Golden and orange leaves, fallen weeks prior, crunched under the operatives' feet. Four men working for an obscure Intelligence Agency belonging to a secretive organization hiked through eight miles of untouched forest.
The team was silent. They were already briefed beforehand, so no talking was needed. All fours' adrenaline still pumped, despite their years of experience and dozens of missions.
"Team, pick up the pace. We have an unidentified convoy approaching the target location. Not sure what they're doing, but they have armored cars and they don't look friendly." The mission commander spoke into their earpieces.
"Understood. Let's go, we don't have long." The team's leader, Charles, said quietly. The other members nodded, and everyone picked up speed.
"There it is."
The team came to the edge of the forest, finding a road. Immediately to their left was an unlit tunnel, and to the right was a short stretch of road leading to a large vacation home.
"Command, we have eyes on the target location."
"Solid copy. Proceed."
"Why should I help you?"
"Your family went missing recently, correct?"
"There's the alarm system…"
The team's engineer, Shay, stood at a power box. He had a small yellow device with wires hooked up inside the box. Charles stood behind him, keeping watch. The other two members were still scouting the remainder of the house, steering clear of armed guards and surveillance cameras.
"…and there it goes," he said, as he snipped two wires, and pressed two buttons on the console. "Hey, hang on."
"What is it?" asked Charles.
"This system is odd," Shay said, inspecting small characters on the device's screen. "The alarm should automatically dial out to 911, but it doesn't. It goes to an unlisted one, a private number."
"Any idea who it is?"
"Only way to find out is to give them a call. I'll give the number to command and they can sort it out."
"Are we done here?"
"Yeah. Shouldn't set off any red flags."
"What do you want from me?"
"You're a mission leader. You're going somewhere that I'm interested in."
"Damn these reinforced doors. Electromagnetic locks. Can't get them open unless we wanna go loud."
"Alright. Any alternate entry points?"
The team's explosive expert, Keyes, and their infiltrator, Proxy, talked in hushed voices.
"Possibly. What if we tried to go through the vents?"
"Vents?"
"It's a giant-ass house, you think they wouldn't have a ventilation system?"
There was silence as the two men pondered.
"These locks need power to work, right?"
"Yeah."
"What if there's a breaker or something for the doors somewhere?"
"Good plan. What if it's inside the house, though?"
"If all else fails, we still have another option," said Keyes, as he looked up at a second-floor window.
"They're going to find out if I help you."
"They won't. I'll make sure of it."
Two armed guards sat on a large, comfortable sofa. Their assignment to a heavily-armed vacation home was quite luxurious. They had to keep up appearances, of course. The home's "official" owner, actually a financial sponsor of the Hand, was more than happy to provide them with a constant stream of good-quality food and entertainment. The group also had to host cocktail parties every once in a while - mostly just other Hand members, who understood the nature of the lakehouse.
"You ever wonder if the Foundation's gonna try and get in here?"
"Nah. To them, we're just another rich white asshole's vacation home on the coast of Quebec. No one's gonna bat an eye."
A third man walked into the room where the two were having their idle conversation, holding a box of donuts. "Found a really good place right off the freeway. You guys want some?"
"Fine, but I'll only do it if you promise me something."
"I'm listening."
"Christ, this guy's heavy." Shay carried the unconscious body of one of the exterior patrolling guards. He had been forced to choke the man out when he had been spotted hiding behind a pillar. Fortunately, the guard hadn't been very strong.
"Throw him down there, he'll wake up long after we're done," Charles said to him.
Shay dropped the body into a spit of sand underneath the dock. It was only a ten-foot drop, nothing fatal.
"Alright, that's done. Let's keep looking around," Shay said.
"Hey, what's that out there? On the water." Charles asked. "Do you see that?"
Shay looked out onto the Atlantic, confused. "See what?"
Immediately after, there was a suppressed pistol shot, and a bullet was in the back of Shay's head. His body fell over the railing and into the sand below.
"Promise you'll let them go."
"Of course I will."
"Command, can you give me some help on this?"
"Standby."
The two men were crouched beside another power box. Keyes had figured that it was connected somehow to the main breaker.
"Shay probably would've figured this out in a nanosecond."
"Yeah, well. He's dealing with the alarms, isn't he?"
"If there are any. We can probably just break a window."
"That would be loud."
Proxy peeked through a window, spying one man asleep on a metal folding chair, a black cap tipped over his eyes.
"These guys don't exactly seem like professionals."
"Fair enough. Command, you still with us?"
"Yeah, hang on. We got someone who can help you."
"Hey boys, show me that box again. Let's get rewiring."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Are you, or your loved ones, in any position not to?"
"Sir, this is surveillance."
"Go ahead."
"Might have a problem here."
"What's up?"
"One of the perimeter ops didn't do his radio check-in. I pinged him six times, and he hasn't responded."
"Send someone out to investigate."
"Yes, sir."
"Why not just do this yourself?"
"That would make it easier for people to find me."
"Lock's down. Try the door now."
Keyes turned the handle and slowly nudged the steel door open. It moved without trouble.
"Hell yeah. We got an entry point."
"Right then. Let's do this."
Keyes and Proxy moved into the house, closing the door behind them. They both readied their suppressed pistols. Proxy brought an M1911 suppressed, despite objections from Keyes over practicality and standardization.
"There's some files on the desk, let's grab them."
"I'll cover."
Keyes stepped out, placing four manila folders into his black duffel bag. Proxy looked cautiously down the hall.
"Hey, one of these has a number written on it. '4-6-3-1.'"
"A code, probably. Let's keep looking around."
The two moved down the hall, ignoring the bathroom door that had a light shining under it.
"Big room out here. It looks like a living room."
"Looks like they're enjoying some donuts. Whatcha wanna do?"
"Do you see a different route?"
"Nope."
"Ok, I have a plan. There's a garage back where we came from. Maybe we can get upstairs a different way."
"Worth a shot. Let's go."
"Why are you worried about being caught?"
"It wouldn't be a problem, just a nuisance."
"Alright lads. We gotta go sweep the outside of the house."
"Hell no. I'm not going out there alone."
"Fuck it, I'm bored. Let's go find the guy."
The three men stood up from their sofas lazily, grabbing their UMP-45 submachine guns off of the coffee table.
"Shouldn't one of us stay behind and keep watch?"
"We have a camera guy, don't we? We don't need to worry about a thing."
"Fair enough. Let's go find the guy."
"You know what happens if the Foundation catches you."
"Which is why I have no intention of letting that happen. It's why I'm sending you."
"Just our luck. Take a looksie, Proc."
Proxy came back from the garage to see the three Hand members walking through a different door to the outside.
"Well god damn. Good for us."
The two stepped cautiously into the living room.
"Hey, hey, a giant-ass security door with a keypad."
"Just our luck. Let's take a look."
"Shouldn't we tell the commander?"
"Nah, we won't be down there long," said Keyes as he typed the code into the keypad.
Keyes pulled the large metal door open.
"We probably should've checked to see if it was alarmed."
"Shay took them out, remember?"
"He's supposed to have. Let's just go down. 20-minute adventure."
"Haha. Let's go."
The two proceeded into the dark-gray concrete stairwell leading to the basement.
"So what's the plan, then?"
"First and foremost, you'll do your job normally. Everything by the book."
The three Hand soldiers idly swept the premises.
"Sir, there's no sign of our guy."
"Confirmed. Keep looking around, and if you can't find him, you can-"
"Sir. Found two bodies below the dock."
"What?"
"Two bodies. One of them is our guy. The other one isn't, and there's blood around his head on the sand."
"Retrieve those bodies. I'll call it in."
"Copy that. Shit, man."
"And if something goes wrong?"
"I have tactical operatives. They'll arrive and take the location by force."
"Team, be advised. Enemy has picked up that something is going on, and the convoy is picking up speed. We might have a problem here."
"Hang on. We found a server room with an unlocked laptop, we're gonna get through the door."
"What? That'll make noise!"
"It's a silent drill, custom-built. We're putting it to the test."
"Good luck, but hurry, please. We're on the clock. Convoy will be there in around five minutes."
"I'll look around the rest of the area. Proc, keep that drill going."
"You got it."
"What about my team?"
"They're actually rather simple."
"Guys, we're packing up and leaving."
The Hand soldiers were surprised.
"We're doing what now?"
"Go to your bunks, get your stuff. We gotta go, now."
"Is something wrong?"
"We've been compromised. Armed hostiles are incoming."
"Should we at least wipe the servers?"
"That won't be necessary. Once you have your stuff, get to the boat. We're getting out of here."
"Alright then, boys. Everyone, let's get the hell outta here."
"Simple?"
"Assuming you have the willpower to do it."
"Alright, door's open. Let's get that laptop and get out."
"Team, be advised. Assault teams are moving in around the house. You really do not have time."
Proxy rushed into the room, visually scanning and closing the laptop before placing it in his duffel bag.
Keyes' duffel bag was stuffed with manila envelopes, loaded with more math and encrypted data than he would ever want to see in his life again.
"We got it, let's get outta here."
Keyes and Proxy rushed to the basement stairs, finding Charles waiting for them.
"Boss, we got intel. We can leave."
Charles's voice was off. Stressed, almost.
"Let's go, then."
"What do I do?"
"Don't get attached to them, for one."
The Hand soldiers jumped into the speedboat, one by one.
"I'll call our benefactor. Hopefully his enormous fortune can cover the cost of all this."
"Yeah. Anyway, who's excited for a boat ride?"
"And then..?"
"You'll kill them all."
Keyes and Proxy lay dead on the living room floor, pistol shots in their chests.
It had been quick. Only five shots were needed. Charles had tried to make sure they wouldn't know that it was happening.
Keyes had seen Proxy's body fall. He had screamed, turning to fire on Charles. He collapsed a moment later.
Charles tried to keep himself from tears. He heard vehicles breaking through the gates of the house.
Dozens of unmarked tactical operatives stormed the home, finding only Charles sitting in an armchair, an emotionless expression on his face. The group secured envelopes loaded with intel on Hand operations worldwide. The group retrieved the stolen laptop, cleaning off the small stain of blood on its screen.
Charles trudged to a waiting armored car. A gunship flew overhead - black and unmarked, as it watched the Hand boat zipping away at high speeds. The operatives set fire to the house, burying its secrets. Ten minutes later, firemen attempted to put out the blaze, to no effect.
"No, I can't do that."
"You can, and you will. It's not your choice. You work for us now."
The commander of the Hand group dialed a private number on his phone, hidden from any records.
"M. We've been had."
"So I've heard."
"We're heading to the safehouse. I'm sorry, sir."
"It's no worry. While the loss of the lakehouse was tragic, we can get a new one. I'll come and talk to you all later."
"I'll see you then, sir. Farewell."
"Farewell."
The commander gazed back at the blazing house, now far behind them. The attackers had mercifully chosen to let them leave.
He slumped down into a seat, crossed his legs, and cracked open a can of soda.
Incident Report [REDACTED]
Date: 7 January, 2015
Clearance Level: 4, Top Secret
Incident Nature: Failed operation.
Location: Serpent's Hand safehouse, [REDACTED], Quebec, Canada.
Description: Three out of four operatives missing in action. One confirmed dead, team leader Charles Cooper. [REDACTED] city firefighters found his body on the roadside, with one bullet wound in his forehead. The status of the other three team members is unknown.
Notes: Cooper was a nervous wreck before the operation. It's kind of abnormal for him. I guess his family going missing was something, but he didn't know about that. At least he wasn't supposed to.
Most of the intel from the safehouse was lost. One of the team members, designated "Proxy" had started to send intel from a laptop our way before we lost contact. Among some mathematical equations related to the Library, we found a message that was automatically intercepted.
We're done.
Very well. Proceed with the final stage.
Are you gonna actually let his family go?
Of course I will. Into the Pacific Ocean.
All in all, a rather tragic chapter for us. There is nothing more to say.
-Senior Investigator Ryan Ross, SCP Foundation Intelligence Agency
Agent Mills stood, hands behind his back, in front of a door to a conference room aboard a 747 airplane. The flight was inbound to Site-02, a favorite of the Ethics Committee's upper echelons.
Mills stepped to the side as the door slid open, and two more members entered the room. His commander followed the two men.
"Come with me," the commander whispered.
Mills followed his commander through the door and stood at the corner of the room. He glanced at some of the Committee members, before turning his gaze to the center of the room.
A young man in what Mills guessed to be his early twenties stood in front of a small desk at the front of the room, visibly shaking due to the presence of such powerful people.
Thanks to the pills that Mills had to take the day before, everything the Committee members said simply faded from his mind instantly. Very little slipped through the cracks. Mentions of rather insignificant security oversights in clandestine Areas buried under two kilometers of rock.
The members talked for ten minutes. Nothing significant occurred.
Twenty minutes later, gunfire erupted somewhere else on the aircraft.
Mills' radio crackled. "Hijackers are taking the plane!"
The commander immediately began shouting at the Committee members, who were already sprinting to the panic room upstairs. Mills drew his pistol, and covered the exits to the room.
Once all the members had left the room, the opposite door blew open. Five tactical operatives with familiar markings stormed inside. Mills took down one with two pistol shots, but was gunned down immediately after.
The operatives rushed through the room, leaving Mills to bleed out on the ground.
Before he blacked out, he remembered where he had seen the markings. The Committee had been betrayed.
"Commander, we have a situation here."
"Go ahead."
"The Committee plane sent out a distress signal, the pilot is saying they've been boarded."
"What's the status of their escort craft?"
"Silent. They haven't said anything, but they seem to still be in flight."
"Understood. Scramble the Valkyries and figure out what's going on."
"Yes, sir."
Two of the traitorous soldiers stood over the body of a Committee member.
"I still feel kinda bad for these guys."
"Yeah. A whole bunch of unarmed old people isn't fun. This sucks."
The two stood silent, pensively thinking about the situation.
A lieutenant entered the room.
"You two, we have a problem here. Hostile aircraft inbound."
"Flight C-113, this is Sparrow, Mobile Task Force unit Sigma-9. Report your status."
Silence.
"Flight C-113, this is MTF Sigma-9, report your status immediately."
More silence.
"Flight C-113, respond immediately or you will be designated as compromised."
"I'M STILL HERE, DAMN IT! WE'VE BEEN BOARDED, WE NEED HELP!"
"Understood. Command, Flight C-113 has been boarded by unknown enemy assailants, they need immediate assistance."
"Confirmed. Get FAC-11 to take autonomous flight control and land at Site-08 as quickly as possible."
"Acknowledged. Standby, I'm being locked on to. Escort craft, stand down. This is MTF Sigma-9, we're here to help-"
"SHIT! ESCORT CRAFT, STAND DOWN IMMEDIATELY!"
"Sparrow, what's going on up there?"
"The escort fighters are firing on me, I'm withdrawing."
"Affirmative. Get out of there."
"With pleasure. Flight C-113, we're going to come back soon. Hang in there."
The Ethics Committee liaison stepped into the conference room where several Overseer Council members were seated.
"A flight with several high-ranking Committee members was boarded by unknown attackers. It seems to be a losing fight at this point. The escort craft are hostile to us as well."
"So, you're saying the attackers have essentially succeeded?"
The liaison looked down at the document in his hand.
"Well, yes. They've almost breached the cockpit, and the panic room doors aren't likely to hold much longer."
O5-9, the Overseer of the Intelligence Agency, stood up from her chair.
"Looks like they did it. Cheers."
"What do you mean, 'cheers?!'"
O5-9 drew a pistol, and put a bullet through the liaison's head.
Chapter One - Ethical Dilemma
Site-17 was in chaos.
Doctors, medical professionals, and security officers scrambled about, frightened and confused. The outbreak of hysteria had come from one, lone email, sent to all Level-2 or higher personnel.
The truth of the Overseer Council is the only truth.
The Ethics Committee is hereby dissolved.
There is nothing more to say.
Secure. Contain. Protect.
Naturally, all Ethics Committee members were either designated to be reassigned or shot.
Doctor Cimmerian, however, chose to flee.
He sat in a UH60 Black Hawk helicopter, owned by Mobile Task Force Omega-1, "Law's Left Hand." Two operatives sat across from him, slumped down pensively.
Cimmerian was as pale as the snow that fell softly outside. His head was down, elbow on his lap, his hand clamped to his forehead.
He had no idea where they were supposed to be going. The pilot mentioned Site-02 as a possibility, but remembered that Site-02 was dangerously close to Site-01. Instead, he opted to fly around the Yukon for several hours until he received orders to do otherwise. His co-pilot concurred wholeheartedly.
The five passengers of the helicopter sat in tense silence. All knew that at any moment, they could be shot down.
There was no one out there to help them.
"This is some bullshit. Honest-to-God bullshit."
Site Director Evan Merrick sat at the head of a conference table at Site-08. At the other seats were his departmental advisors. The Ethics Committee liaison was, of course, absent.
"Can they just outright dissolve the Ethics Committee? Are they allowed to do that?"
"Well," said Security Chief Marcus Northwood, "the only people who can really do anything about it is the Ethics Committee."
Maintenance Chief Thomas Harper remained silent. He simply glared down at his laptop, at the email the Overseer Council had given to everyone.
"Look," said Northwood, "For the most part, we aren't actually going to be affected by it. We're just a paper-pushing storage site. We're going to be fine."
"I know that," said Merrick. "What I'm worried about is what's going to happen to other sites. If there's no Ethics Committee, humanoids can be treated like shit. And if humanoids are treated like shit, they get angry. And if humanoids are angry, we're going to have some trouble."
"You think the Council cares?"
"No, I don't think they care. That's what I'm worried about."
The group sat in silence.
The maintenance head finally broke the silence.
"We'll make it."
Silence resumed as everyone silently agreed.
The conference room door opened, and a communications specialist stepped in. "Sir. We've made contact with a surviving aircraft. They're carrying an Ethics Committee VIP."
Merrick looked up at the man.
"Well, then. Let's invite them in."
The UH-60 Black Hawk stealthily approached the base, now protected by friendly SAMs and anti-air guns. Site-08's helipad crew popped an amnestic pill each, and began to mark the landing zone.
The pilot touched down on the helipad under the watchful eye of the anti-air guns. The pilots, soldiers, and Doctor Cimmerian exited the aircraft. As they walked into the command building, their helicopter was brought into a hangar, covered in a tarp, and brought to a lower level. Everyone who saw it was ordered to pop an amnestic pill in their mouth by an Internal Security Department operative.
The group was escorted to the third subterranean floor, where they were sat on sofas and given hot cocoa in an attempt to comfort the group.
Commander Blackout of MTF Omega-1 stood atop a platform, overlooking the two hundred operatives who stood at parade rest, shoulder to shoulder.
Blackout took a deep, tear-choked breath. He stepped forward.
"Soldiers of Law's Left Hand…After ten years of serving as your commander…I have come…"
A tear rolled down his face.
"To say…"
"Goodbye!" His shout echoed into the mountains.
In the corner of his eye, he saw one of his lieutenants close to bursting into tears.
"The Committee has been dissolved. Without them, Omega-1 will not go on!"
The crowd of soldiers stood, staunch and unmoving.
"They're having me killed. I am too much of a risk to the Council."
Blackout heard a teardrop hit the metal plates where the weeping lieutenant stood.
"Though I love you all…"
Another tear.
"I cannot embrace you all."
He turned around. His four lieutenants stood at parade rest. They, too, knew the end was nigh. They looked to the man who had led them for years. Their eyes searched the commander desperately, looking for some glimmer of hope in the man.
There was none.
Commander Blackout stepped back. He pensively stood at parade rest as an MTF Alpha-1 sergeant took his place.
The interloper addressed the crowd.
"You are all being reassigned. Report to the canteen at nineteen hundred hours to receive new orders. That is all."
The man stepped back, facing the edge of the podium, and stood next to Blackout. He whispered to the commander, and the two walked toward a waiting helicopter.
Even when the sergeant left, and the crowd was unsupervised and unattended. The two of the four lieutenants burst into tears. One attempted to console the two sobbing men, to little success. The fourth lieutenant stepped into the commander's former place.
"You are all dismissed!" Her voice had a hint of breaking.
The crowd solemnly trudged back into MTF Omega-1's former headquarters. They gathered their belongings and marched to the canteen.
Two lieutenants and fifty-five operatives committed suicide later in the night. Commander Blackout was brought to a secure location.
MTF Omega-1, "Law's Left Hand" was no more.
The Overseer Council sat at a conference table buried in a bunker at Site-01. MTF Alpha-1 was already clearing Site-02 of all Ethics Committee members and related staff.
Meanwhile, O5-9 was lobbying to put the Internal Security Department under Intelligence Agency control.
"No. Absolutely not." O5-2 was having none of it.
O5-2 was the title held by the Director of Internal Security. It was understandable that they would not want another Overseer essentially being subordinate to another one.
Curiously, the others were perfectly happy with the "consolidation" of the two departments. Truthfully, O5-2 thought it was more the IA stealing the job of the ISD.
"Why would this actually be a good idea? How do any of you agree with this?"
O5-4 spoke up. "Your departments essentially do the same things. The difference is that one of them operates externally, while the other operates internally. Why not combine them?"
O5-2 became heated. "The same things? Our departments are nothing alike. Most of the IA doesn't even know we exist!"
O5-9 shot them a glare. -2 felt compelled to shut up.
"If the departments combine, it'll make management and data storage easier. Besides, your department needs a public face. If people KNOW they're being monitored, it'll keep our employees in line."
"Bullshit!"
O5-2's voice echoed through the large conference room.
"You're doing another one of your fucking power grabs. Ever seen the Administrator AND HIS SECRETARIES stopped talking to us, you've been-"
"I haven't got the slightest clue what you're talking about." -9 grinned slightly.
-1 turned to -2. "You're getting superstitious. There's nothing going on here. The Administrator fell silent, and we have to take control until he's come back and-"
"My GOD!" -2 threw their hands onto the table.
"You're all crazy!"
The room was quiet for a while. -6 and -10 simply opened books and began to read.
"If you all want to vote in favor of that sorry excuse of an Overseer, go right ahead."
Everyone looked up. Overseers outright insulting one another was abnormal.
-9 smiled. "Let's call it, then. All in favor of combining the Intelligence Agency and Internal Security Department?"
Everyone except -2 raised their hands.
"All opposed?"
-2 raised their hand.
"What a shame, -2."
O5-2 stood up from their seat. "Rot in hell, all of you."
-2 walked out of the conference room, and left Site-01 with a detachment of Internal Security Department operatives. Officially, they were the Intelligence Agency. However, they were still authorized to disappear.
The other members packed up their things and left the conference room.
-2 sent a resignation letter the next day. -9 read it before the rest of the Council, and tore it up gleefully. Her only opponent on the Council was finally gone.
The entirety of Site-08 had to be questioned about their knowledge of the Ethics Committee. Their loyalty to it, how invested they were in it, and if they were ever contacted by it.
Meanwhile, Cimmerian and his Omega-1 comrades were confined to the lower floors to prevent any Overseer spies from knowing that Site-08 was complicit with the survivors.
Site Director Merrick sat with Cimmerian and the other survivors in a break room in the lower levels.
"The Oh-Fives have a feeling that something is up, since our Internal Security operative simply stopped reporting in. I also think -9 has it out for me since she's gone and slashed our budget in half."
One of the pilots spoke up. "What does that mean for us?"
Merrick looked at the man. "It means we can't pay for all of our amenities anymore. Nor can we keep Sigma-9 on-site for longer than a month without maintenance falling apart."
"Regardless, they're trying to punish me for something, and we have no real excess cash to speak of."
Author's note: Not the end, I went inactive before I could finish this chapter. Sorry. ;w;
