#infamous second son fanfiction

[darling-i-read-it]

Neon Eyes

Delsin Rowe x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: heavy insinuations to smut (like basically leads up to smut and then afterwards but I’m always too lazy to write it. Use your imagination lol), delsin nervous you wont accept him 

Author’s Note: the annual playthrough of second son had begun <;3 

Summary: Delsin struggles to tell you about his new powers, even though he wants nothing more than to be held by you. 

Song: Polaroid by Imagine Dragons was weirdly on repeat. 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Delsin looked at his phone. He flicked through his contacts, hovering over each one. The air was crisp in Seattle. It felt much more processed than it did back home, like it was muffled by all the smoke coming out of buildings. Granted, he couldn’t exactly complain about the smoke thing. It happened to be incredibly beneficial to him. 

He hovered over Betty’s name. He should call her back. He had been avoiding her calls, though not intentionally. She just kept calling him at inopportune times. He passed her name. Reggie was at the top of his recently called list. Delsin skipped him easily. As he kept going, he landed on a name that filled his stomach with warmth. 

You. 

He should call you. No, he shouldn’t call you. He wanted to call you. There was a difference. Delsin kicked his feet back and forth, looking down past his phone. He was sitting on a balcony, a couple floors above the ground. The world had turned into specks below him. He wanted to call you. 

He didn't want to get you in trouble. 

He wanted to hear your voice. 

“Goddamnit,” Delsin muttered and pushed your name. It highlighted and then started to ring. Immediately regretting it, Delsin hung up. He shouldn’t have done that. You had surely heard about what happened with the tribe, maybe even heard about his new condition. Maybe Reggie had called you already. Delsin made a face at the thought. He didn’t want his brother talking to you period, let alone about him. 

Delsin jumped. His phone was ringing. Your name hovered on his screen. 

“Oh fuck,” he grumbled. He held the phone with both hands so he wouldn’t drop it. He stared at it for a moment too long, listening to his ringtone. 

After a long moment, he answered the call. 

“Hello?”

“Hey D! Did you call me on purpose?” God, he was right. Your voice had already soothed him. Childhood friends, turned something else, staying something else. 

“Butt dialed, my bad!” He scratched the back of his neck. “Actually, I lied.” 

“You tend to do that.” He chuckled, looking down at his feet, dangling. 

“It’s nice to hear your voice,” he said and he meant it.

“Yours too.” Your voice had gone soft. “What are you doing? Are you around home?” He shook his head even though you couldn’t see it. 

“No. I’m in Seattle.” 

“With all that shit going on?” you asked. Even though your voice was practically disembodied, it felt like laying in soft grass in the summer or getting in bed after a long day. It made him weirdly emotional. 

“Yeah, I chose the worst time for a vacation.” 

“Is Reggie with you?”

“Why would I bring Reggie on a vacation?” 

“Is anyone with you?” “Reggie.” You laughed. It felt like a cloud. Your words started with a hum, a comforting noise. Delsin hadn’t noticed how badly this whole thing had affected him. He had been going without stopping for so long he hadn’t even thought about it. His home was effectively ruined if he didn’t finish this. His life had been turned upside down by these new powers and responsibilities. 

“Seriously though, what are you doing out there? Is this about that attack on the tribe?” 

“You could say that. So Reggie hasn’t called you?” 

“Nope. You Rowe boys are avoiding me like the plague these days.” He chuckled. 

“We’ve just been busy,” he explained. “You haven’t talked to Betty?” 

“Nope. Believe it or not, I’ve been stuck in Seattle too. I came down yesterday for a concert and got stuck with all this DUP stuff. Guess we both have bad taste in day adventures.” 

“I guess we do.” You didn’t know. You had no idea what he was. He was just Delsin to you, the same person he had always been. ”Well while you’re stuck here, you wouldn’t wanna meet up would you?” 

“Are you staying somewhere?” 

“This isn’t a booty call,” he promised, voice deadly serious.

“I know that Delsin.” Your laugh moved to a small giggle. “I just meant, where should I meet you and it came out more aggressive than I intended.” 

“Oh! Oh yeah. I didn’t mean it either.” 

“I want to see you. Where are you?” you said slowly, in case he didn’t get it. 

“I’ll come to you. I’m quick on my feet these days.” 

“Alright well I’m staying in Capitol Hill, by the market. I’lll text you the address.” 

-

You were waiting in the lobby for him. There was smoke trailing behind him as he came in through the automatic doors. He knew he had more pressing things to do. He had people to save and he had things to break.

But at the moment he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. 

“Delsin!” you exclaimed, standing up. You stood up, putting down the book you were reading. He practically hopped over to you, always light on his feet. He threw his arms around you and engulfed you completely. “Oof. You alright?” 

“Better now.” 

“Delsin, you’re acting weird,” you noted. He pulled away, holding your arms in his hands. “Why do you have a chain around your wrist?” You watched him, eyes scanning his figure. Something was up, you just couldn’t put your finger on what. 

“I need to tell you something.” 

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered. He looked around the lobby. There were stragglers around, too many people to give you any kind of demonstration. 

“I was back home when a conduit broke into The Lodge.” Your eyebrows furrowed. “Augustine caught this guy, Hank, and he had these weird smoke powers. He tried to hurt Betty and Reggie. I grabbed him and something happened. I like, grabbed his hand and saw his whole life. And then…then I like..” He was fidgeting out of anxiety. He looked around again. He was practically oozing with stress. 

“Delsin.” 

“He gave me some of his powers.” You stared at each other, eyes locked, mere inches apart. 

“What do you mean?” Your voice had hushed. He didn’t answer right away, which made you antsy. “Delsin.” 

“C’here.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you out the front doors. You followed him wordlessly as he took you around the back of the building where there were nothing but cars. You watched him attentively as he let go of your hand, raised his, and shot something out of the sky. 

You yelped in surprise. 

“Delsin?! What was that?!” 

“I’m...I'm a conduit,” he said, voice quiet. It still felt weird on his lips, like the words weren't exactly true.

You stared at each other, eyes wide and searching. You went very quiet for a moment. He swore he could hear his heart beating in his ears. For some reason this was scarier than feeling the powers at all. 

You had heard all the propaganda about bio terrorists. You had seen what they could do to your home and your family. You also were very aware of the man standing in front of you. This was your best friend, the man you’ve loved for years. You knew that the DUP was killing people like him. 

And Delsin looked scared. 

You took a slow step forward. 

“Woah.” 

“Right?” he hissed. “I can float and stuff. And turn into smoke or something, I don’t know how it works biologically. I just know I can do a lot of things my body couldn’t do before.” You closed the distance and grabbed his hands, putting his palms to the air. You traced the creases, shaking your head. 

“Shit Del,” you muttered. “What did Reggie say?” 

“He still thinks we’re here to find a cure. "I'm here to get Augustine’s powers and help the tribe.”

“You think it’ll work?” 

“It’s all I got right now.”

“So why did you call me?” 

Delsin's whole body had relaxed with your reaction. You didn’t see him any differently. There was no fear in your eyes. He wanted to complain about everyone else's reactions, fill you in on everything that had happened. 

“I just wanted to see you.” Your face softened. 

“Oh.” 

“Maybe I could crash at your hotel room too.” You scoffed, hitting him. “I met this other girl too though, she lives in a billboard. I could always crash with her…” 

“Alright alright. You’ve guilted me into it.” 

-

It was a one bed hotel room. Delsin didn’t mind that one bit. You offered it to him easily and after some light banter, you agreed you should just share it. 

The sun had gone down over the Seattle skyline. Delsin sat at the edge of the bed as you got dressed for bed. He had no extra clothes. He would make some joke about sleeping naked and you would likely let him strip down to his boxers. You had seen him naked before.

“Are you gonna sleep in that beanie?” 

“When have you ever seen me sleep in the beanie?” You shrugged, coming out of the bathroom door.

“Could be a new thing you’re trying.” You sat down beside him. He turned to you, both of his feet still planted on the ground. You put your legs underneath you and faced him with your entire body, taking the beanie off his head. You ran your hand through his hat hair that was smashed down. “Can I see the neon again?” He laughed. 

“I’m like your circus clown.” 

“My court jester.” 

He put up his finger, lightly tracing the air with a pink neon. He spelled out your name in the empty space. You smiled like a child, watching eagerly. You turned your head back to him, eyes narrowing gently. 

He put his hand on your thigh. The silence was familiar and comfortable. 

“Do you think your eyes go neon when you…you know,” you quipped, your smile turning sly. He rolled his eyes with his whole head, squeezing your thigh. 

“You wanna find out?” 

-

Delsin rested his head on your chest. It was the most relaxed he had been in days. Weeks. You had your arm wrapped around his shoulder, your hand playing in his hair. You were tracing circles into his scalp, pulling lightly at his roots, brushing out his knots. 

He hadn’t been this safe since he first got his powers. 

“I did think you were gonna blast a smoke hole through me,” you said, voice quiet. The air conditioning was the only actual sound in the room. The lights were off, submerging you in darkness. 

“I had it completely under control.” You tilted your head down to look at him, laughing a bit. 

“That pillow is only feathers now,” you accused. 

“The pillow isn’t you.” You shook your head a bit. He nestled into your chest, putting his arm tighter around you. 

There was a long beat of silence. Just breathing. A room empty of any expectations. 

“Thank you for not freaking out when you saw me,” he breathed. 

“Thank you for not changing who you are.” You pressed a kiss against his head and it stayed there, lingering. “You’re in the line of fire now D.” 

“I know.” 

“I don’t want you to get hurt. You or Reg.” 

“I know.” 

“Can you promise me you won’t get hurt in the name of sheer goodness?” He nodded sleepily. 

“I’ve never broken my word to you babe.” You liked it when he called you babe. It came off his lips so effortlessly. “Thanks for letting me crash here.” You scoffed. 

“You’re always welcome to whatever bed I sleep in. You knew that.”

“I did.” 

He fell asleep soon after, his breathing evening. The police were searching for him and he was with you, pretending there were no other problems in the world. He deserved that much.

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Thirty-Three — Shadow Play

“I see the mark on each affront to God, now. The Mark of the Beast. It burns in their chests like the pits of hell, it’s on their hands anytime they use their powers. They’re all branded. All marked, even me. But I see it now, I see why God has made me what I am.”

7k word count | 2 spacers provided as pause points | TRIGGER WARNINGS: a lot of words, possible claustrophobia [they are UNDERGROUND please remember that!], human experimentation, military mention. ONE imbedded link.

Our footsteps echoed back a thousand times as we walked along the crescent-shaped dais on the other side of the room, Dad the first to step up onto it. “How far back do you think this goes?” He asked, shining a light down the rounded archway of the hall he was standing in front of. ADVANCED SYSTEMS. The last words of his sentence reverberated in the chasm, Brent joining him to look down it. 

“Hey!” He hollered, his voice overlapping Dad’s as the single syllable hopped around again and again. Brent turned back to face everyone, motioning down the hall. “It’s gotta be long.”

“Has to be some sort of tech lab,” Dad muttered in agreement. 

Brent smirked at the thought. “Think we have enough time to go look? Maybe they have, like, ray guns back there,”

“If we’re talkin’ Vermaak,” Zeke started, looking over my head at Dad, “We should probably start here. Advanced systems has gotta mean power transfer device, right?” 

Dad, though, wasn’t listening, not really; his phone’s flashlight had traveled along with his stare, looking across the dais to the hall on the other side, brow furrowed. His eyes narrowed a bit like he was trying to decipher something in the shadows, and he stayed quiet long enough for me to share a worried glance with Brent. “Dad?” I eventually asked. 

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

He blinked hard, coming back down to earth from wherever his head had dragged him as he looked over at me, then to the other men. “Y-yeah, sorry,” he stammered, giving the hall at the other end one last look before turning fully to Advanced Systems. “We should see what’s down there.”

 Everything looked insane, so futuristic, and I felt bad for laughing at Bertrand when he said he was amazed by what he saw because I couldn’t help but agree. This place was amazing. 

Dad blew past the unmarked doors in the hall, moving deeper into the hall as he sensed something I only caught onto the further we traveled; there was something at the end of the hall echoing our footsteps back just a little too loudly, the sound coming back like an irregular heartbeat as it tried to match the loud drumming in my ears. Zeke stayed behind Brent and I as Dad held up a hand, light sweeping the rounded ceiling and noting the strange change: “It’s getting taller.”

“The entrance was wider too,” Brent muttered, shining his own against the wall. “Means there’s something at the end, doesn’t it?” 

“Probably.” Dad agreed. 

And they were right; as the ceiling widened like a maw, it spit us out into a rounded room littered in broken glass and severed wire, the walls lined with pods built into the walls. It looked like the shattered glass came from there, rained down by nearly a hundred of something escaping. A raised platform stood in the middle of the room, the perimeter circled by computers while the center held some excavated hole, something ripped up out of the ground and the concrete remains left strewn among the glass. 

And hanging from the ceiling were two cuffs, and a thick dangled wire with its copper ends sticking out. 

“Jesus,” Zeke muttered, shining his light behind him at one of the pods. They also had wires dangling from their enclosure, the ends looking like the pasties of EKG machines and some still holding catheters for veins. Zeke came to the conclusion I did, first to verbalize it: “They look like experiment pods.”

“Think this is where the Vermaak were?” Dad asked, stepping up to the platform. The computers stood on metal podiums with no visible wires, some with broken screens. “Wish Eugene was down here…”

“Could be,” Zeke hummed, messing around with the electrodes. 

Brent followed Dad up onto the platform as I slowly walked around it, shining my light at the base. There was no gap or welding or something that connected the platform to the floor; the ends simply bent out like the platform had been molded from the ground on a pottery wheel, no actual bolts in sight. It was so sleek, so unnaturally smooth and perfect.

There was a flash on the side and I glanced over to see Brent taking pictures of the pit, probably just as much for his own files as Dad’s. ‘Course. But the shine was enough to distract me, and I didn’t know there was something in my path until I could feel it under my ankle boot.

I lifted my foot to peel off the little thing off of it — it looked like a tag? Like the sort of paper tags I’d put on my gymnastics bag before going to a meet. It was in near-perfect condition, having been untouched since it was dropped.

Date and time of capture. Circumstances. Weapons, physical conditions, name rank, all duplicated three times on a page that signified needing to be cut. I flipped the page over, the sections on the back more for the holder than whoever the form was supposed to be attached to, the top titled ENEMY PRISONER OF WAR (EPW) CAPTURE TAG (PART A). “I found something,” I announced. “I think it’s some sorta…some sorta army thing?” 

Dad’s head snapped up. “What?” 

I didn’t bother answering, instead following the rounded edge of the platform again to where he stood and handed him the page. He breezed over the front before flipping it to the warnings on the back, huffing. “‘DA Form 5976,’” he muttered, looking over his shoulder at Zeke. “Direct Action form. The military raided this place."

“Oh yeah, more than likely,” Zeke agreed. “New Marais was under martial law for a bit as they dug around for information on the Beast and the First Sons. Guess they got here first.” 

Dad made some sort of dissatisfied noise in his throat, flashlight going from the form back to the computers — and then to the divot in the floor. “If this is where the Vermaak were…that had to be where the power transfer device was. They came in here with the intention of detaining anyone they found.”

Zeke left where he stood to join Dad on the platform, his light adding to the one shining down into the pit. “Guess now would be a good time to tell you they didn’t get the original device, huh?” 

Dad perked up, looking at Zeke. “Really?”

“Yeah. Bertrand tried shipping out the device, the original one meant for one-on-one transfer, when I was spyin’ on the Militia for Cole. He was trying to get it outta there before Cole got to it. You know the whole story about that gang fight at Fort Philippe?”

“Yeah,”

Zeke nodded once. “It was for that. We captured the place from the Militia, got the device, and Cole used it right there with Kuo. It exploded after.”

“What happened to it after?” I asked. Sure, it exploded, but it had to go somewhere, right?

Zeke shrugged. “It was basically scrap. Even if they got it, they wouldn’t have found anything useful in it.”

Dad’s brow furrowed. “So they never actually got the power transfer device?” He asked Zeke. 

“If it’s what was in this hole? No. Most the military coulda done was download whatever was on the computers.”

“And probably wipe them,” Dad added, more a complaint than an observation. “I’m surprised they didn’t rip these things out of the ground.”

Brent stared thoughtfully at the computer we were standing in front of, finger tracing the pole of steel that was holding it up. “We could.” 

I blinked. “What?”

Brent looked up, glancing between Dad and I. “You can recover deleted stuff from computers, right? Even if you’ve done everything to scrub it off. If we take the computer up to Dr. Sims, maybe he can find something.”

Dad rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the pedestal and the defunct computer on top of it. “We’d have to find its hard drive,” he eventually mumbled before looking back up at Brent. “We can’t just take the monitor, that’s useless.” 

“Wouldn’t the army take the hard drive?” I asked. It seemed illogical that they’d sweep the First Sons base and leave behind something so crucial. 

Brent’s eyes traveled down the metal pole, all the way to the floor and along it. “Maybe they didn’t know where to look,” he muttered, following some line we couldn’t see. His eyes raised to follow the wall and I saw all green was gone, replaced with a silver that reflected the light like…well, steel. He tracked whatever he saw to the wall next to the atrium’s entrance, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Hold this,” Brent asked Dad, not even looking at him as he passed over his phone and causing Dad to almost drop it on the ground. Brent stalked over to the wall and ran his hand along it, looking for some bump in the smooth texture and cursing under his breath when he couldn’t find it. “There’s something…under this…” Brent growled under his breath, sounding sure. “But the wall isn’t steel. I don’t see any…any bolts either.” 

“Think it’s welded straight on?” Zeke asked. 

Brent shrugged. “No idea. Either way it’s way too smooth to get through, unless I…”

Brent stared thoughtfully at the wall for a beat before bringing up his fist and turning it to steel, some extra metal shavings layering against the ridges of his knuckles as he reared his fist back and slammed it against the wall. 

Whatever metal was there instantly gave away, revealing a hidden server farm sitting stagnant behind it, all ziptied servos wires and electrical tape. “Oh, shit,” Zeke muttered as Brent moved to grip the second panel and rip it off, more of the server bank being revealed. He looked over to Dad. “That’s gotta be for every pod in here and these computers."

Dad nodded slightly. “Alright. Okay, Zeke, you’re our best bet for this, so salvage what you think might be useful,” 

Thirty minutes later, Zeke was zipping up the sling backpack and Dad sighed, turning to look back in the room. He looked absolutely displeased at how much nothing there was in this room. “The ice Conduit, Kuo — you said she was activated down here, too?”

Zeke nodded. “She came outta here cold as a corpse. Said they injected her with something to get her goin’.”

Dad mulled over those words. “We should try Bio-Science, then.” he decided unilaterally, voice making it very clear that this wasn’t up for discussion. “Whatever activated her here had to be made there.”

It was unsettling how loudly our footsteps echoed back at us as we walked out of the hall and back into the atrium, across the floor to the space where the Bio-Science hall stood. Dad was leading the pack, steps sure the entire way to the hallway before he faltered, staring down the hall with reservation. 

“You okay?” Brent asked. 

It took Dad a moment to even register that Brent spoke, glancing back at us. “Yeah, yeah, I just…” he drew off, attention going back to the hall. “You ever get a really weird feeling, like something’s wrong?”

“It’s probably the shitty horror movie lighting,” Zeke joked. 

“Not like that,” he chastised. “I mean, there’s just…there’s something wrong here. In this hall. I don’t know what it is or…”

He drew off, growling under his breath as he failed to translate just how wrong it felt to him. I could sort of relate; I’d get a bad feeling in situations that did turn out to be bad, and there was whatever that gut feeling was when the ice soldiers appeared on the Sound. Maybe Dad was getting that weird sixth sense right now too? “Do you want to leave?” I asked. 

“No,” Dad answered almost immediately. He flexed his shoulders, and that unsureness left him. “Come on,” He decided, “Let’s go see what we can find.”

Our footsteps rang out sharply like slamming gavels as we walked into the wing. God, how huge was this place? The hallway seemed to go on forever, large spaces in-between the labeled and rounded doors. And those labels didn't exactly help. Once we passed the basic ones that said things like 'Laboratory Supplies' or 'Restroom', the placards began to list off actual project names: Project Emerald, Project Mirage, Project Fracture.

I wasn't feeling very hopeful about much, especially when Dad just blew past the doors to keep walking down the hall. “There's...a lot of rooms to go through,” I mumbled, shining my phone light at another door that said 'Project Helix'.

“I know,” Dad replied. “Try to remember all the names. Let's get to the end of the hall, see if there's anything there,”

The end of the hall came swiftly after that conversation, the placard reading 'Project Metamorphosis'. The door…it was scratched to hell and back, chipped away like someone took an axe to its front and failed to take it down. Dad’s hand traced the edge of the door, that pensive look still on his face. He stayed unspeaking for so long that I finally cracked, saying, “Dad? Are you okay?” 

Dad nodded. “This is it,” he said with so much assurance. His phone light traveled around, inspecting the weirdly shaped door. 

“You sure?” Zeke asked. 

Dad nodded slowly. “Yeah, I…” his brows came together, like he was confused by his own knowledge. “I’m sure. Let’s go.”

“Looks like someone else tried getting in, too,” Brent pointed out. “Think the military tried taking down the door with no luck?”

No one answered. If that was true, it meant we probably wouldn’t have a chance to get in, either. 

Dad stepped up to the door and tried opening it. Tried. He pushed against the door, he fit his hands in the linear grooves to try and pull. Brent put his hand against the door only to flinch away at the attempt to drain it, and I crouched, running my hand along where the door met the floor — or, more accurately, where the recess was. “It lowers,” I said, looking up at them two. “Goes down, like a car window,” 

“Without electricity, it’s basically useless,” Zeke said as Dad got to my level, looking at the recess. “Delsin, I know you’re intent on this, but it doesn’t look like we can get in—”

“No.” Dad snapped a bit. “This…there’s something in this room. I need to see it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before turning his head to look at Brent. "Well, any advice from the architect?"

Brent huffed, humored at the recognition but unable to answer. “Couldn't tell you. Haven't really looked into how to tear down buildings, yet. I don’t even know what kind of metal this is.” He hit the metal with his knuckle, the metallic ping that reverberated back high in pitch. 

Zeke’s eyes narrowed at the sound, and before long he was digging in his pockets for something, pulling out his keys. He held a little flashlight-shaped thing on it up to the door, sliding it around its face. “It’s not magnetic,” he declared, shoving his keys — with the magnet on them, apparently — back into his pocket. 

“So then, what’s that mean?” Dad asked. 

Brent was the one to speak next. “Means it’s probably titanium,” he said, pushing his own hand against the door. “Which means it’s strong.” 

“So we’re not gonna be able to get in?” I asked, standing. 

Dad’s face darkened. “No. We’re getting in.” He said, determined. “How do you break titanium?” 

“You don’t,” Brent said, almost sounding offended at the idea. “Do you know how strong it is?” 

“There’s…” I drew off, unsure how to ask what I wanted to. “There’s rankings or classes or something for metal strength, right? Are there any stronger metals?” 

“Steel,” Zeke hummed, looking over at Brent. 

Brent shook his head. “I don’t know if it’d be enough,” he admitted. 

“It's worth a shot,” Dad said, standing straight. “We throw enough steel at this door and it’s bound to break,” 

“Yeah, and it could also take down the entire hall.” Brent stressed. “We have no idea what’s load-bearing in here and what’s not. Most doors are connected to one—” 

“The door sinks into the ground,” I interrupted. Not only that, but this one was round. Didn't load bearing walls have to be vertical? “What’s the likelihood of it being one if it does that?”

Brent’s words faltered as he looked down at the rubber flaps on the door’s edge. “I…” he drew off, thinking hard. “Less…less likely, but still—”

Dad seemed to think that was enough. “Then we just aim for the door,” he decided. “And try not to bring anything else down.” 

Brent’s eyebrow cocked. “‘We?’” 

Dad nodded, saying, “We should use our powers together. Steel and concrete.”

“What about Jean?” 

Dad’s eyes broke from Brent’s to glance my way, and he dedicated all of seven milliseconds to the thought before saying, “Jean, you and Zeke move back, be ready to help if something happens.”

I tried not to let the request get to me. My water probably couldn’t help here, anyways. 

Dad and Brent passed me their phones and Zeke pulled me a good eight feet back as they both positioned themselves in front of the door, Dad hovering over Brent’s shoulder. I hadn’t realized they were nearly the same height before now. “You prep, I’ll add, we both throw. Okay?” He asked Brent, who nodded. 

The steel Brent produced caught the light from the phones, little beams bouncing around and the very large and very threatening looking beams Brent was making grew over his shoulder like some magical spear being materialized from thin air. I guess, in a way, it was. But what was different this time was Dad putting his concrete-laden hand through the shrapnel cloud to reach for the bars and touch them, the black rock on his arms sloughing off and onto the steel to make a jagged battering ram. 

“Now!” Dad yelled, moving to cross his arms over his face. Brent’s arms flinched as Dad threw his out and the battering ram went flying, the sound it made as it slammed into the titanium door something unpleasant I could feel in my bones as it screeched in protest, making me cringe so hard I accidentally bit my cheek. The door jolted hard, but stayed standing. 

“Again!” Dad yelled over the echoes of the grinding metal. Brent built up another large spear, Dad touching it with his gravely grace before they both threw it at the door a second time. This impact came with sparks and a divot in its center that exposed a way darker metal beyond the painted surface, a bullet hole in the kevlar the First Sons gave the door. “Come on, almost,” Dad encouraged. 

They ran the same race, Brent putting his entire upper body into this next throw, and the way the entire hall shook as the battering ram made impact with the door frightened me so badly that my water was reacting before I even saw the shrapnel, phones falling to the ground to instead let my hands shoot out to weave a wall of water between them and the wall they took down. The remains of the bent circular door shot back, taking out multiple desks in the room behind it and careening into a wall as my water caught whatever rubble it tried to throw back at the two men. The shaking stopped and the horrible sounds died off soon after, and within a beat, everyone breathed. 

And then immediately groaned as the broken door slowly fell forward, revealing the hallway it couldn’t fit through. “God, it's neverendin', isn't it?” Zeke muttered, glancing at me. All I could do was sigh in return.

I let my water fall and we all entered the lab dedicated to whatever Project Metamorphosis was, shining our flashlights around the room. God, even the furniture was white, pure metal desks laid in rows in the center — well, minus the ones Brent and Dad sent flying — with standing laboratory tables lining the walls, the expo marker on the white boards posted on the wall above them faded out but still legible.

Zeke beelined it towards some leftover lab equipment while Dad moved to shift through the contents of the first desk. Brent and I glanced at each other and simultaneously shrugged, moving to the edge of the room and exploring on our own.

With no luck at my station, I moved back towards Brent, him not even looking up as I moved. “This is insane,” Brent murmured, looking down at some files. “It looks like they were trying to do something with inactivated Conduits,”

“What, like what the DUP did?” I asked, looking around his shoulder at the document. Or, trying to — the font was so small that it looked like gibberish to me.

Brent shook his head. “No, different than that. Not sure how, though...” His flashlight left the laboratory counter to shine on the board screwed to the wall — which we only then realized wasn't a board at all, but one of those x-ray lightboxes. There were still some x-rays attached to it, but Brent's phone light wasn't hitting the picture right to make it show.

“Here, hold this,” he said, passing me his phone so quickly that I almost dropped it on the ground. After throwing a quick glare my way, Brent leaned forward, ripping the x-ray from off of the board and holding it in his hands, elevated a bit. “Okay, shine the flashlight under it,” he requested.

I did — and immediately cringed after. God...what happened to this person? Their jaw simply wasn’t there anymore, shatterings of bone protruding out of the open orifice in ribbons. I've seen brain x-rays before in health class, and while you're not supposed to see every nook and cranny, it's also not supposed to be foggy white, almost like it was riddled with infection or melted to mush. “Jeez,” I murmured, shining the light farther down the x-ray. It stopped just after the clavicle — not that that was one anymore, either. It was riddled with extra growth, as if wrapped up in solid tumors. “What the hell happened to them?”

Brent opened his mouth to retort when Dad, in the center of the room, called out, “Found some stuff on the Ray Sphere!” looking up at Zeke.

Zeke turned, in the midst of wrapping a stoppered glass vial with his sock while handlessly shoving his foot back into the tennis shoe. “What's it say?” He asked, taking off the sling bag so he could store the vial away.

“A lot of big words I don't know,” Dad started, holding up the rather thick file as Zeke and Brent's light landed on Dad's form, illuminating his tall shadow against the wall. “But it has a beginning note — apparently, the Ray Sphere can corrupt a person's powers?”

Zeke's head tilted to the side as he slipped the sling bag back on, looking at Dad curiously. ""Corrupt?'” he repeated. “Corrupt how?”

Dad looked back down at the file, phone light traveling across it in tandem with his eyes. “Says it makes a person's power stronger, but more volatile. Harder to control.” He looked up at Zeke. “Were Cole's power like that?”

Zeke shook his head, almost seeming offended at the accusation. “No, he was in control of what he could do.”

“And his power didn't affect his daily life? He wasn't having issues with—” Dad looked down at the file in his hands, “—his 'enhanced capabilities exceeding the threshold of practical applicability in routine activities, leading to the unintended manifestation of his powers in a potentially disruptive or uncontrolled manner?'”

“What does that even mean?” Brent scoffed.

Zeke's eyes, though, went wide. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. Then repeated it, louder. “Son of a bitch!” With a foot stomp, like he just made the world's biggest breakthrough.

Dad glanced back up, eyebrow quirking. “So is...that a yes?”

Zeke nodded fervently. “Cole couldn't do anything with electronics 'cause his power would short circuit the wires. He couldn't sit in a car or hold a gun 'cause he'd make 'em explode. You're telling me that's why he couldn't do that? The Ray Sphere corrupted him?”

Dad looked back down at the document. “More like made him too powerful for his own good. Which I mean, did help with the Beast, but he would have had a horrible time trying to live in the Age of Technology.”

Zeke nodded. “Yeah, you've got that right. Had to create a double insulated phone pouch just so he could call me whenever we were off doing stuff,”

“These powers,” I interjected. “The, uh, corruption. Would it be enough to turn someone into a monster?”

Dad looked over at me like I was insane — but Zeke just nodded sagely. “Guess that would make sense. Bertrand, his power was...well, it was somethin'. He could turn himself and other people into these things, buncha fucked up looking creatures.”

Brent held up the x-ray, and we both immediately shined our phone's flashlight behind it to brighten up the image of the jawless person. “Like this?” Brent and I asked in unison.

“Jesus Christ,” Dad muttered, looking at the image as Zeke nodded.

“Exactly like that. Well, one of them, at least.” He replied.

Dad looked equal parts confused and bewildered. “So there was a Conduit that could turn just anyone into monsters?” He asked Zeke.

Brent let the x-ray fall, turning back to the table. “Not just anyone,” he said, grabbing his own stack of documents. “People with inactivated Conduit genes,”

“That's somehow worse,” Dad's murmur echoed easily to us. He raised his voice. “But if someone's able to manipulate a Conduit like that, we need those notes. Anything that can affect their powers is close enough to what's going on with your sister.”

We nodded, Zeke motioning for us all to come here as he took the sling bag off once again for us all to put our found documents in. As I worked on rolling up the x-ray and slipping my hair tie around it so it would fit easily, Brent muttered, “You don't think you're gonna turn into one of those, right?”

I could feel the blood leave my face as I thought of the possibility. “Oh God, I hope not?” I said. “I mean, the notes said it was nearly instantaneous, right?”

He nodded. “They did, they did. Just wondering, 'cause it seems like it would be a great cosmetic improvement for you,”

My smack against his head rang out loudly through the room and into the adjacent hallway, his yelp bouncing around just as vibrantly. Asshole. 

As Dad tried to find a way to fit the large x-ray into Zeke's bag, I watched Brent turn, shining his flashlight across the room and to the gap in the wall where the vast hallway stood. “What do you think is back there?” He asked me.

“I don't know,” I shrugged. “Probably more human rights violations.”

“Was there anything else over by that x-ray viewing box?” Dad asked us. We both sorta shrugged, giving him some noncommittal sounds that had him huffing hard. “Alright, I'll go double check. Do me a favor? Go check out the desk we flung next to the hall.”

We nodded, separating from the group as Zeke moved to fiddle with the other desk that was thrown to the side when Brent and Dad broke in. Brent put the flashlight on me like a spotlight as I tried to shift through the contents of the desk despite the weird angle it was at, pulling out nothing but useless to-do notes and nicotine gum foils.

“Anything good?” Brent asked me.

I scoffed, “Unless you wanna count old McDonald's receipts as loot, then no,”

I sat back on my heels and looked up just in time to see Zeke straighten, holding his hand up triumphantly like he had found gold — but whatever was in his hands was too small to see. “Got something!” He declared. “Some sorta recording chip.“

Dad turned to look over his shoulder. “Any idea what's on it?” He asked.

“Not yet,” Zeke hummed. He grabbed at a little pouch on the strap of his sling bag and there was a quick snap as he unbuttoned something. “But luckily, I brought Cole's old phone. I had tinkered with it a bit way back when — gave it a chip reader.”

Dad's eyebrow raised, and he 100% looked like he was not buying whatever Zeke was saying. “And you're sure a 25 year old piece of technology will work?”

Zeke snorted. “I modified a Nokia. I'll die before this thing does.”

Dad began walking over to Zeke as he fiddled with the old phone and the chip reader. The beam of light above me slowly started to move, and I glanced up to see Brent's attention — and inadvertently his phone — begin pointing towards the hallway again. “C'mon,” he finally said as I rose to my feet. “Let's go check out what's back there,”

Brent was already walking away by the time I called out to Dad to tell him what we were doing. “Okay, just shout if you find something, alright?” he requested as I jogged to catch up to Brent.

The hall was squared, which was different from the others — it felt like a normal hallway. Brent flashed the light everywhere; the high ceiling, the floor, where they met. He had this studious look on his face that left me wondering if he was taking notes for his own build down the line, or if he was critiquing the place and thinking of how he could have done it better. “Wonder if every other room is this big,” he hummed, light jolting to shine behind us. I couldn't blame him; I wasn't really a fan of treading through the dark underground, either. It felt like there was always something breathing over my shoulder. This entire place was freaky enough even without the fact that it was entirely powered down.

“Well, it's going to be a very long night if they all are,” I murmured back.

We turned forward simultaneously, just in time to see the light of the phone catch in the reflective surface of a pane of glass. It was as long as Brent was tall, following the curve of the wall in a slope. “What the hell...” Brent muttered.

The closer we got, the more I realized it wasn't a window, but a door, some large and super thick plexiglass thing that had five separate locking mechanisms on the outside. None of them had a keyhole though. There was a screen the size of a small television on the side, and a laminated piece of paper above it haphazardly taped to the wall like it was an afterthought, the 'TEST SUBJECT 0409' in giant bold.

There was nothing else about the corpse in the viewing room. No name, no demographics, no gender. Just a set of numbers the First Sons only bothered to throw on the wall after the fact. Barely cared about, barely human.

“What the fuck…” Brent drew off as he looked into the chamber. I couldn’t say much, I was too shocked. 

The glass was iced at the edges, patterned spreads of white frost that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. There wasn’t a bed in the room, no sink or anything. There was barely something that constituted a toilet — but it was all frosted over. The corpse in the corner of the small observation room was curled in on herself, arms wrapped around her knees as if she was trying to keep every little bit of warmth she had left contained to her core until the very end. She was perfectly preserved. That’s what was worse; I could see her frosted eyebrows still screwed close together, how she seemed to have froze in the middle of chattering her teeth. The folds of the thin scrubs she was in were stiff with icicles, her lips softly blue. 

“They froze her?” I whispered, the reminder of that feeling making shivers run down my spine.

Brent moved his phone’s flashlight around, up and down, trying to get a good look inside the chamber. “Look, see that?” he asked, pointing to the corner of the room. I looked up where he was pointing; it was one of those old flip signs, the kind they’d have at super old airports that would flip to say if a place was boarding or whatever. The white on it was damaged from the frost, but the dark black lettering showed through with ease; PRESERVATION ENGAGED.

“Do you think it was something to keep her body…” I drew off, unsure of how to even say what was going on, “...mummified?” 

Brent flashed his light around the room once more before letting it settle on the 5 locks. “That, or keep her from squealing.” he sighed hard, turning. “C’mon, let’s look at the others.”

I threw one last look at 0409 before letting my eyes fall to my feet, following Brent. 

There was a cshchsk that echoed into the hallway from the main room of the lab, like a walkie talkie was receiving interference, and then that same sickeningly sweet voice from the other dead drops came back, the voice of the Bertrand guy. 

“At first, I questioned His choices,” Bertrand’s voice echoed down the hall, the gross drawl of his accent making another shiver go down my spine after the one wracked up it by the cold hallway. There was another testing room, this time a man in it, hands frozen to the wall as he died trying to claw through the frost. I couldn’t help but hold my arms close to my core and Brent noticed, dragging me along. “Why would God turn me into such a monster when all I’ve done is follow His word? I never strayed far from His grace,”

Brent scoffed. “Isn’t this the same dickwad that was a fascist?”

I shook my head in disbelief at this asshole’s words, looking into the next testing chamber — and pausing when I did. In this chamber, there was definitely…someone, but I couldn’t see them well. Not when they were buried under the frost like that. But there was something off about the lump in the frost that I couldn’t put my finger on, like they were misshapen in a way. 

I mean, of course, that could have been a side effect of being frozen alive. 

“I prayed for days after I used the Ray Sphere to ask God why. Why turn me into this beast, this monster?” He asked no one. I’m pretty sure it was just to hear himself talk. “Why would He damn one of His most loyal soldiers to be a demon for the rest of his life? But I don’t believe that’s it anymore, no. I think I finally see what He has planned for me.”

Brent stopped dead in his tracks, making me run into his side. “Wh–, dude!” I snipped, rubbing where the bridge of my nose hit his hard bicep and blinking back the tears from the impact. 

Brent didn’t react. He didn’t even really care. He was too busy staring wide eyed into the next testing chamber, face a bit paled even in the dim light of my phone’s flashlight. I followed his stare, my own eyes widening as I looked at what was in the room. 

There was a human…I think. It was definitely the remains of one, at least. Their skin was leathery, grayed out in the way you only expected corpses to be. But the color darkened to match the texture the further it crawled down their arms, the skin growing and hardening to become these scythes of a pollex crab claw. It looked shelled, too, just like a crab’s would be. There was still a face to the person, still a mostly human body…but those claws…

“I understand what the auras I see are now. Marks of the Beast, of the devil’s influence. I’m branded with my own, and that’s why the Lord has made me what I am. I must atone for my sins.” Bertrand’s voice said from the other room as both Brent and I looked at each other and then rushed to look in the next cell. This one had the same claws and grayed skin, but there was more. Jagged frills of shell climbed up their — its — arms, clubbed claws where its feet used to be. It laid curled, back to us, so I couldn’t see its face — but I could see how its back seemed larger than humanly possible, like there was an extra set of muscles along its spine. 

“What the fuck?” Brent murmured again, more aghast this time. 

“I see the mark on each affront to God, now. The Mark of the Beast. It burns in their chests like the pits of hell, it’s on their hands anytime they use their powers. They’re all branded. All marked, even me. But I see it now, I see why God has made me what I am.”

 I followed Brent as he walked briskly down the hall, glancing into each chamber before quickly moving on. God, they were all the same; the huge claws long enough for them to use as crutches, the bent backs. At some point we got to see the horrors of that x-ray in all their fucked up glory; black bled through their abdomen and up their spines like something was poisoning them from the inside, their jaw shattered by the force of those thick appendages that jutted out of their jaws like tentacles. I guess the only solace I could cling on to when looking at these monstrosities is that they looked tranquil, curled up in the frost. Hopefully the people they once were passed peacefully. 

“He is giving me a chance to repent. To be more. His son was betrayed by one of his own, yet through that betrayal, we received salvation for our sins. That sacrifice is what He is expecting of me now.” Bertrand said, sounding so sure of himself. “I’m to be His sword and His might. I’m to cure the world of these demons by turning them into such and exposing them to the world.”

Brent’s steps slowed as the phone’s flashlight moved to face forward again and started traveling up, higher and higher as it caught the red and black exoskeleton of whatever that was in front of us. The chamber was at the end of the hallway and double the size of the others with the little crab-guys — but it needed to be to hold that creature. It was doubled over, reinforced arms being used as forelegs as it glared forward, three eyes on each side of its elongated head. It looked like something out of a horror movie, especially with its mouth open like a lotus, three long pincers coming together over a row of razor-sharp teeth. You could barely see the skin of the human it used to be under the exoskeleton of its hard shell, just as grayed and veined as the other crab-guys only an evolved form. Was this the end stage? Two segment claws as long as my arm and knees facing the wrong way?

“I’m meant to be the cure to the monster Kessler saw in his visions, the Beast that will burn the world to the ground,” Bertrand affirmed to himself. “I’ve done it, and watched them be hunted like the vermin they are. I’ve built the Militia to help track them down. These Conduits are not human, and they won’t be when I’m done with them. We are in the end times, and I am one of the disciples God intends to help salvage the world.”

Brent and I stepped closer to the frosted glass, standing on either side to get a look at just how tall, how wide this thing was. It had blades that ran up its elbows like knives, one elbow nudge away from spearing through someone. “Let them devour New Marais like a swarm of locusts. Let them see the monsters that are hiding among the meek, and let me be their savior. Let me lead them away.”

As I was looking at the jaw ripped open with tendrils of tissue holding the bones together, a volt of electricity shot up my spine when I realized the thing was staring back at me, blinking ice off of its translucent eyelid. 

“Let them ravage the world and get rid of the sinners, and may God help those that fight against them.”

“Jean,” Brent warned when he saw the head of the creature, the ‘Ravager,’ snap sideways to look at him.

We both took a half step back as the Ravager’s elbows flexed and it stood straighter, looking down at us from behind the glass. The three pincers on its mouth flexed open so it could give off a garbled scream that even the thick glass couldn’t keep silent, making me flinch and move to cover my ears. Its limbs moved lazily as it awoke from whatever hibernation the frost had it in before its super thick and long claws slammed into the concrete ground, shattering it with each rake. 

It was trying to dig its way out. 

“Run,” Brent said as Dad’s voice yelled something from the lab. “Go, run!”

[dudebro231]

Victoria Chase's life has been in a slump for the past three years, and as things are seemingly only getting worse, life hits her with a bout of motivation that might just change her life forever.

kwyhbuh wednesday number three! victoria is finally brought into the fold, and the ball is beginning to roll. stay tuned for next week....

[dzthenerd490]

Action Report: Finally Capturing SCP-4666

On 2018, it was coming close to Christmas and Site Director Eto was getting tired of the Foundation's constant chase for SCP-4666. As such he put in a request to form his own personal task force to have SCP-4666 contained once and for all. He had his request sent directly to the O5 Council, which was risky as they normally don't focus on anomalies with low casualty or media exposure risks. Though to his surprise they accepted and gave him until December 21st to have a team and plan formed to contain SCP-4666. This led to the utilization of Mobile Task Force Zeus-1 "Conduits" Division "Elementals". 

For the operation Captain Delsin Rowe along with four of his units Code Names: Fire, Lightning, Steel, and Ice. None of them are given anything more than standard Foundation suits and armor. That December by order of Site Director Eto and with the approval of the entirety of the Ethics Committe and almost an entire 1/4th of the Administrative Staff the operation was a go. Foundation observation staff on the moon were monitoring every satellite in the sky for the slightest hint at SCP-4666 activity until finally he showed up. Once they were sure it was a house targeted for attack Captain Rowe and his team were deployed immediately. 

***

SCP-4666 was outside the house and only seconds away from breaking in, he drooled as he was sure this last one of the nights was going to be the best. Though before he entered, he was reminded of that one last night where he had to fight those fucking abominations. He growled in anger as he was reminded of that horrible night and how he almost lost everything. His sacred goal, his fun, his duty, all of it could have been gone because of those fucking freaks. He busted the door down in anger and rushed in hoping to quickly get to work to get the frustration.

"Yo! What's up freak?" The Yule Man looked at the human leaning on the living room table. He scoffed and ran towards the human but suddenly the human raised his hand and a ball of fire hit him in the stomach. Suddenly he went flying out of the house and landed hard into the cold hard grown and some snow. Suddenly he found himself surrounded by four other humans. He tried getting up but suddenly his arms and legs were covered and filled with chilling ice. It wasn't just growing over his flesh but freezing his blood, his muscles, his very bones. He screamed in pain or at least tried to but his tonged suddenly was incinerated by a thousand bolts manifesting in his mouth. 

"Heh, well that was easy, hey Delsin, looks like another job well-" The Yule Man refused to accept this so he broke his hand out of the ice leaving nothing but broken bones. His hand regenerated instantly so he punched the soldier with enough force to break every bone in their body. As they went flying the other next to him tried to retaliate but the Yule Man was superior in speed and bashed their head into the ground. Suddenly the Yule Man had metal rods infused into his skin and in the next second he was hit with lighting strikes. 

The current of lighting followed through the rods in his body frying every single cell in his body. He would have accepted defeat at that point if he was a lesser being, but he was nothing like his master. He would be the one to bring the true meaning of Christmas to the entire world by blanketing the entire world in snow. To achieve such a noble goal, pain like this was nothing but an obstacle to be crushed. These annoying naught adults were no different. 

He slammed his fists onto the ground sending shockwaves through the ground and his scorched body. The result made snow and ash fly in the air making the two remaining humans blinded by it all. He punched one in the stomach hard enough to break every bone in their body. He tried punching the other but a large wall of pure steel making him break his fist on impact. Suddenly the wall flew towards him and landed on him, crushing him on the ground and shattering half the bones in his body. 

The metal on top of him started heating up and quickly melting into molten steel causing it to melt over him. The molten metal was flowing like lava giving him no chance of escape and no way of resisting. He couldn't imagine feeling pain any worse than what he was feeling right now but he knew he could just shake off the molten steel eventually. Or that was what he thought but it suddenly started cooling down and freezing up so quickly by a sudden wave of cold ice. 

The ice froze everything to the point that the steel turned hard again and froze together before any of it could break by the sudden change in temperature. Now he was completely trapped unable to break free at all as the steel melted on to his very bones preventing him from moving even a millimeter. 

"Ugh, okay I think he's actually contained this time."

"Gya! Fuck this fuck face he broke every part of my fucking spine!"

"You got off easy, you know how fucking painful it is to have your own skull break into your brain." The Yule Man could hear everything they were saying and started growling in anger. His muscles were destroyed by the molten metal from earlier, but he could still move his bones. The metal was clearly bending and breaking by his movements even if ever so slightly. 

"What the fuck?! He can still move?!"

"All of you get out of here, get those kids in the back to the nearest Foundation Area. I'll take care of the Christmas freak."

"God it boss."

"Show him what your made of Delson!" The Yule Man broke his arm out of the metal while he heard the four other adults leaving and one more approaching to continue the fight. He was enraged by this; how dare they perceive him as such a light threat. He was the one who could cover the world in snow, they should fear him as they were the naughty ones that would feel his wrath. He would make them regret retreating by ripping his new human to pieces. He finally broke out of the metal thought bits of the metal was still melted onto his body. 

It hurt a lot, but he smiled as the metal pits hanged off of his body like bits of blades and armor that fit naturally on his body. Perhaps he could get used to this new form of his and use it to more effectively kill the naughtiest of the world starting with the smirking brat in front of him. He was angered by him but since it was just one human, he didn't let it bother him too much. Even if he had magic like the others did, he could crush him if he was all by himself.

"Huh, so you're the Yule Man or whatever. Woah the others really did a number on you. You know I would feel bad for your right now if you weren't a child murderer."

"... You clearly can't comprehend my great work."

"Pfft! Great work?! That's a load of shit, what GREAT work could possibly involve torturing kids on every Christmas? You know I knew a woman who talked about saving people by imprisoning them all. You wanna know what happened to her?"

"If I had to guess, the same thing I'm about to do to you!"

"Hmph, no, it's actually what I'm about to do to you." The Yule Man frowned in anger at this cocky brat and charged at him ready to tear him to pieces. But suddenly his body was engulfed in flames, then in ice, then struct by a thousand bolts, then covered in burning neon, then sliced up by virtual blades, then stabbed by thousands of concrete blades, finally his body was filled to the brim with oil making him bloat like a balloon and his skin was covered with napalm. After a single bolt from Delson's finger he exploded, the resulting explosion was powerful enough to destroy the entire area. It was only thanks to Delson absorbing all the entire and smoke was that no humans or wildlife in the area were hurt. 

Now all that was left of the Yule Man was a smoldering skeleton that fell to its knees. The pain it felt was unimaginable, it couldn't speak, it couldn't move, it couldn't even think. Delson walked up to the Yule Man and waved his hand around just to be sure it was unable to move. Though it did twitch a little to show it was still alive and capable of regeneration.

"Huh so even that didn't kill you... Not that I wanted too, the higher ups wouldn't let me hear the end if I did that. But still, I heard what you regularly do to children you fucking piece of shit. You deserve a lot worse than that. But you know what, I'm satisfied that with this. Besides, once your locked up in a cage you'll be the Foundation's toy." The Yule Man couldn't let it end like this, once the people with the three arrows got him that would be the end. He had to activate his ring to get a portal, if he could just make a portal, he would be free. But suddenly his had was covered in ice.

"Yeah, we heard about the ring form the last attempt to kidnap you. I honestly can't believe you never once considered bolstering up your own defenses or just quitting entirely so we couldn't get you. You really are a cocky asshole; but hey, Karma's a bitch, am I right?" Delson then kicked the Yule Man in the face. 

***

The Yule Man woke up in a large room with seemingly no escape, he quickly panicked and tried manifesting a portal but for some reason nothing manifested no matter what he tried.

"Don't bother. The walls have been infused with a type of cement that nullify spatial anomalies like portals. It's also coated with an indestructible metal; you can't escape no matter what you do." The Yule Man was horrified now he was trapped for real, and this meant that so long as he was trapped here his goals would be hindered to near impossible. However, he stopped for a moment then smiled and looked up to the ceiling. He wasn't sure how those watching over him could see him, there wasn't any cameras after all. Though he could see speaker, just no cameras. 

"You really should have killed me, now you will be wasting resources trying to keep me contained which you will ultimately fail at! I know you! The jailers! You will fail and I will be there to laugh and mock you! You can't kill me! So long as I have this ring I will live forever, and you will rot while I thrive! Time is one my side! You should have taken the ring you naughty brats! Now you can never kill me!"

"... Hahaha... Oh SCP-4666, we don't want to kill you." Suddenly one of the walls started moving up, revealing a new room on the other side. 

"But in a few seconds, you're really going to wish that we did." The room was fully exposed to the room the Yule Man was in. He looked in and couldn't see anything in the dark room, though he could hear pathetic weeping. Suddenly a tall man that looked smaller and weaker than him walked forward into the light allowing the Yule Man to see him in confusion. In the next second they met eyes and SCP-096 screamed as he charged.

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

Hellllo 👋🏻, I follow you on Ao3, I hope this isn't annoying or anything, just genuinely wanting to know. I really enjoyed the LowRes and Josh and Nancy Drew series, was just wondering if you're still writing for them or if it's done. You don't have to answer.

Ya'll some thirsty bitches... here's a sneak preview of what I'm writing for Kinktober. <3_<3

You strum your fingers on the metal door frame and make a face, “Jesus… this guy’s baby dick energy is so massive it probably never occurred to him that people like us existed.”

Inside the van, behind you, Wrench grins loudly, “Did you seriously say baby dick energy? Now all I can picture are penis lasers,” and, with robotic static, adds, “Pew-pew-right in the dick!”

You roll your eyes, backpedal inside the safety of the van and plunk down on the swivel chair and desk setup bolted to the floor. There’ll be enough mansion ogling when you’ve finished Ray’s algo anyway and if you get Wrench riled up too fast, then nothing productive is getting done today.

Wrench stays quiet for two-point-three seconds, then collapses into a playgirl-esque pose on the computer desk in front of you. Before he can knock over your milky coffee drink with his elbow, you scoot it out of the way with a pointed glare, all without taking a hand off the keys. 

“Ya know you’re supposed to be the lookout, right?”

Pixel arrows point at the ceiling happily, “Nothing’s happened since we got here. The prodigal son is out,” he waves a tattooed hand like he’s brain farting on a particular word, “prodigality-ing… or something, and you’re waaaay nicer to look at than the adult LEGO set that fucker calls a house. Plus, you still owe me for losing that bet last night.”

While Wrench can be insufferable at times and you actually take pride in your work ethic unlike ‘someone,’ he is utterly charming to a fault, so you hide a smile and ignore his finger-gunning crotch motions. 

“You so would pick something sexual for that,” you respond as dryly as possible. 

Watching his emotes go from seductive hearts to underscores then inward slashes like a sad puppy dog was worth the finger flick he lands on your cheek, especially when the movement makes the hem of his hoodie ride up his stomach, exposing a sliver of hard abdominals, inked with scatch-hearts. It wouldn’t be all that wise to get distracted this way, but Wrench is a jack of all trades and a master of many; he’s mastered the art of LowRes seduction very, very well.

You blush a little, but only after he readjusts the denim creases around his junk, rubbing at what looks like an oil stain from the events of last night. The algorithm from T-Bone gets typed in a tad slower due to some minor ‘distractions’ but all in all, this lil’ mission Marcus sent you both on is going swimmingly.

“Gotta admit,” Wrench wonders aloud, “this dude’s got way too many lemon-flavored goodies to not have some sort of protocol against hacker babes like us.”

You nod while typing in the final line of code, then throw down the enter key with a puff of breath, “No shit. It’s almost too easy. Like, suspiciously so.”

“Hmm, want me to check the digital keypad while you run that thing?”

“Probably a smart move,” you agree, lifting your laptop and drink off the desk as he wiggles like spawning salmon off the edge - heels smacking the metal floor with a lurch over the wheels. He kicks open the back doors - ever the subtle criminal - and starts judging the keypad.

The van and the two of you are currently stationary in Ahed’s four-car garage which is unsurprisingly empty since the McMansion was still being shown to high-end clients for future mass development. Rich assholes weren’t always the smartest people, as much as they thought they were. Opening their lives up to hackers through everything from toaster ovens to smart showerheads was only gonna make groups like DedSec stronger. Bring it on, you think with a tiny smile.

“Ooooh, looks like fart boy had his dingleberries install a monitoring chip,” Wrench’s voice crackles from around the van, “I could just… right…” something metallic stabs and clicks, “there!”

He swings himself back inside the van, close enough you can feel the furnace that is his body temperature lather on your right side. Double-carets smile at you as he hunches over, presenting a little, toothy microchip between his fingertips. 

 “See, it’s all in the wrist.”

“Mmhmm,” you can't help but smile, “your technique is not in question, don’t worry.” His skills are never really in question, at least not when it comes to you, but you add a little insinuation to your words considering he’s been threatening you with a good time since this morning.

Your tone does not go unnoticed. 

As the algorithm does its thing - rendering the security firm obsolete via a fake firewall - Wrench tosses the offending chip over his shoulder and props his spiked chin in his fist, lowering his voice to Barry Manilow levels, “Only thing I’m worried about is when I get to stick my cockerdoodle in your-“

“Shooosh,” you interrupt hastily, looking dramatically behind him, “do you hear that?”

“Hear what now?” His mask blinks question marks.

The silence continues.

“That.”

Wrench goes silent as a bricked system and looks over his shoulder, knowing when it’s time to get serious.

With a tight lipped-smile and your best dramatic tone locked and loaded, you whisper, “It’s the sound of a rare Wrench not saying something pornographic for five seconds.”

Side-eyeing underscores turn to you, but the leather below his digital display creases, proving that beneath the glare, he’s grinning

“Pffff,” he raspberries, “it was way longer than that!”

“Well, maybe seven seconds.”

[asoutherngothic]

Infamous: Second Son Fancast.

Because I'm replaying the game.

Infamous Second Son Fancast!!

Delsin Rowe - D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai, couldn't find anyone young enough to protray Delsin, cause there aren't enough Indigenous Actors. I like up and coming actors rather than known, it gives more options and more talent to emerge, But I really like D'Pharaoh.

Reggie Rowe - Martin Sensmeier, Chaske Spencer, or Kiowa Gordon. I'd really say Martin, because his skin tone matches D'Pharaoh. Probably simple minded to think that, lol. (I'm black btw. 1% Indigenous lol). Though I really like Chasake, he got the older brother who's just tired of younger brother vibe. And Kiowa was really good in Dark Winds. (I recommend you to watch, it's a good show).

Betty - Tantoo Cardinal (The only older woman I could find to play Betty...But also because Tantoo is a really great actress).

Brooke Augustine - Sigourney Weaver Or if Male, Anthony Starr. Sigourney is an obvious choice to play strong evil villain lady, but imagine it being Anthony Starr. He creeps me out on The Boys so much, but like...he's also...yeah. But he plays such an evil asshole, that I think he would do good as Augustine. Bruce Augustine...lol.

Henry Daughtry - Oliver Jackson-Cohen. I liked him in The Haunting of Hill House and the other trilogy whatevers lol. If he can pull out a Texan or Southern accent out his ass, he'd be pretty neat. (I'm Southern also btw).

Fetch (Abigail Waller) - Odessa A'zion, honestly couldn't find anyone I liked.

Eugene Sims - Evan Peters, Devon Bosick. I know Evan is tired of playing evil twisted roles. But he made a really good superhero in X-Men. He also gives Introvert nerd that hacks into databases. So does Devon Bosick, I started back reading The 100 fanfictions, and he'd make a good choice.

Shane -Boyd Hollbrook, Anthony Starr, like I said before. Evil. Villainy. He's amazing at it. Also Boyd played a good bad guy on Logan...I love his acting and his face..

I love doing fancast.

[wadebox]

Welcome to my little corner of tumblr where I can scream to the void and act silly!!

About me

wade parker; lvl.23 (he/they) trans pan aro; entp, english is not my first language & I'm european with asian heritage;

Achievements

Certified Nerd™; Long Time Fandom Lurker™ ; Metalhead™ ; Multishipper™ ; Multifandom™ ; "Artist"™ ; recently got into editing and picked up back writing

May ramble about

Youtube -> smosh (my fav is damien), game grumps, callmekevin; jacksepticeye; the click;

videogames -> dragon age, the elder scrolls series, detroit become human, a way out, dream daddy, infamous second son, the sims, valheim, beyond two souls, waluigi enthusiast, life is strange; dark souls; bloodborne;

dnd -> (I'm playing a pirate gnome artificer rn + I have a bunch of ocs), critical role, sword af;

comics -> hawkeye, moon knight, john constantine; deadpool; spiderman;

Other blogs

Likes from @wadesboxes

Main @hawkentp (also on ao3)

Fanfiction recommendations @shutupandreadthisfanfic

ig: wadeboxes

Open to talk!!

[tatitex1]

So to continue off of this cause I’m rewatching Supernatural by introducing it to my mother haha

-

Taka is the son of a cop and a devote believer in god following his family’s fall from society. He turns to his studies and then an angel called for him to begin his service.

This angel is Raguel, the angel of Justice.

His mission is to retrieve Mondo’s soul from damnation and set him towards the path that will lead to the destined battle for the Earth. Of course, no one expected that the angel and the human would fall in love with said soul.

“So your vessel’s name is Taka and you’re Ragú somethin’?”

“I am not a pasta sauce. At least you make up for your intelligence with your butt and fancy hair.”

“…”

“I enjoyed watching the titular journey of the diseased creature and his strangely morbid young mistress.”

“Lilo & Stitch. The movie is Lilo & Stitch, feathers.”

“I am also not a bird.”

Mondo gets along with him for the most part, but the angel has a lot to learn about Earth culture. And Mondo needs to not be so clueless.

-

And of course, Hagakure, a fake psychic, became the vessel of the playful archangel Gabriel. Gabriel is much like canon and he appreciates making funny prophecies, tampering with reality and of course, messing with humans.

“So, is it safe to call you angel face?”

“Whatever you wanna call me, big boy.”

Heavy no homo vibes from Daiya and Hiro there

-

Makoto Naegi is a normal dude when he was seemingly struck by lighting and his dyslexia autocorrected like Percy Jackson. He is now a prophet of the lord being protected by a hunter from an infamous family, Kirigiri, and a human vessel named Togami that is currently hosting the demon prince, Mammon. The demon is under contract with the hunter until her goals are met.

“I can read this now… I think this tablet has some sort of fanfiction about brothers hunting monsters. Ooh and one of them is shipped with an angel. God invented Ao3 so-“

“Makoto, why would God need fanfiction? He plays us like the Sims.“

“Yeah and human x angel isn’t my thing. Now, if you want something spicy-“

It’s a lot of back and forth banter with the two of them while Makoto gets to work with the bros solving hell texts and junk.

-

Kazuichi lives in the middle of nowhere making special monster slaying, demon obliterating weapons and he loves to experiment any chance he gets. He was born into the trade of blacksmithing. His guardians are demonologists, Gundham and Sonia.

Gundham is a master of taming creatures that can detect the presence of demons and other creatures. Rumor has it is that he can really communicate with creatures.

Sonia is from a long line of hunters, going back to the medieval age when there was a secret line of hunters working for the royal family. It’s said that she’s a descendant between a hunter and a royal, which explains her extreme good looks.

“THAT IS BLESSED SILVER! LIKE ANGEL SILVER, THE GOOD CUSH! WHERE THE FUCK-“

“Do not utter such crude language around the dark queen, paramour. Your shrieks of joy are enough.”

“It was fun! We wanted to summon a demon to get some blood, but an angel showed up instead. So I wrestled and killed him!”

“…”

Sometimes Kazuichi wonders how unhinged Sonia really is compared to the odd Gundham.

-

Chihiro got affliated with the Oowada bros after being rescued from a spirit that was haunting the library computers. From there, they vowed to pay them back for their kindness (Mondo refused a thousand times before Daiya said that they could tag along) and now does a good chunk of their pilimary research of monsters to slay and where to find them.

“So between the house where people’s arms have been twisted off, the serial drowning and spontaneous combustion, which one would you rather go look at first?”

“Hmm… It’s a tight one between the dollhouse and the pool.”

“How about we just don’t for one goddamn week, for fuck’s sake, your finger got cut off-“

Mondo would like to have five seconds to relax sometimes.

[pluto-parker]

Shatter *Delsin Rowe x Reader*

Summary: The one where you’re rescued by a fiery smoke conduit looking to acquire your deadly power.

Warnings: Violence and a teeeeeny bit of angst and a butt ton of flirty fluff!

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist

(A/N: I know I’m like SUUUPER late (Like three-four years late??) to writing this fanfic but I finally got and finished Infamous: Second Son and fell in love with Delsin. This’ll probably be the only imagine I write for him, unless someone out there wants a part two)

It was hard being a conduit.

At every turn, danger awaited you as you roamed the streets of Seattle.

An outcast, a threat, a target; that’s what you were in the eyes of the D.U.P..

They always shot first. 

The blood on your hands wasn’t your fault. If you had the choice you would never kill again, but they forced you to become the monster they thought you were with their guns and concrete bombs. And there was no way in hell you were going to go back to Curdun Cay. You were done being one of Augustine’s little lab rats. Done being poked and prodded for the powers you possessed. 

When Hank wrecked the D.U.P truck a couple weeks back, you ran like hell with Fetch and Eugene. You fought your way to freedom before tailing it away from them, too. The three of you may have fought together to survive, but none of their actions were done with any concern for anyone else but themselves. You couldn’t trust them.

And now, you stood alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by a swarm of D.U.P brain-dead soldiers as you took your last stand. You weren’t going back to Curdun Cay, you’d either survive, or die fighting.

Power coursed through your veins as you stared down the D.U.P.. 

They took the first shot. 

Then all hell broke loose.

Focusing your power into your hands, you sent a wave of sharp glass straight at a cluster of soldiers, tearing them to shreds. A bullet tore through the back of your shoulder and you turned toward the source, blasting a shard bomb straight at the man. His remains cascaded with the explosion. You tore up flesh, blew up cars, scaled buildings, and threw down men, but they kept on coming and coming and coming.

Eventually, you ran low on fuel, cornered by a swarm of soldiers in an alleyway with no way to escape. In a last ditch effort to survive, you pulled out your last trick. The exertion to pull it off could kill you, but it was all you had left: The Crystal Hellfire. Mustering every drop of energy in your battered and bruised body, you launched yourself into the air, floating like an angel as all of the windows on buildings and cars in a half-mile radius shattered instantaneously, the small fragments flying toward you, building on one another until large shards of glass circled around your glowing form. With a piercing cry, your arms spread open like wings as you spiraled violently in the air, reigning the spears down on the men, piercing straight through them from head to toe, and staking them to the ground with a sickening crunch.

Collapsing onto your knees, you gasped in haggard breaths as you stared at your surroundings. It was horrible, disastrous carnage. All of it.

It sickened you to your stomach as you glared at your handiwork, but the quiet that settled over the scene helped ease your upset heart.

“I see the target!”

Your blood ran cold. There were more.

Another wave of D.U.P. circled around you like hungry sharks.

Exhausted, completely drained, and stricken with grief, you closed your eyes and accepted death, waiting for the onslaught of bullets that would soon rip through your aching body.

But the shots never came.

Your eyes flashed open in confusion as the terrified yells of the soldiers reached your ears.

“It’s him, the smoke conduit!”

Your gaze scanned your surroundings, searching for Hank, but finding a mysterious man floating in ash as he took down the D.U.P.s with lethal blow after lethal blow instead.

The conduit took only minutes to take out the rest of the soldiers, and you could feel yourself slip in and out of consciousness as you watched his performance. Moments later, he landed a few feet in front of you, out of breath but unscathed with hands held up in resignation as he approached with slow and careful steps.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said, his irises filled with sincerity as he gazed into your eyes.

Exhausted, you struggled to get to your feet, only managing a few staggering steps before collapsing to the ground.

Instead of hitting hard concrete, your body landed in the gentle arms of your rescuer, and you just barely registered his quiet murmured assurances before blacking out.

~~~

You woke up on a mattress, groggy and head pounding, with a jean jacket splayed over your body. You kept your eyes closed as the events before you blacked out flashed through your mind.

The D.U.P.. The Crystal Hellfire. The carnage.

The smoke conduit.

Your eyes flashed open and you sat up stick straight, immediately regretting your fast movements as a wave of nausea churned your stomach and spun your head. Sucking in a few deep breaths to ground yourself, you scanned your surroundings. You were on a rooftop next to a small fire that had no visible source but was burning and warm all the same.

“Glad to see that you’re awake.”

The deep voice cut through the calm silence save the crackle of the fire and you sprung to your feet, ignoring your nausea and exhaustion as you focused your power into your hands and stared down the man standing in the shadows.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s calm down, angel. I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said before stepping into the light with his hands up.

It was the smoke conduit that saved you.

You immediately relaxed against your better judgement. He did rescue you after all.

His eyes widened in shock at you standing down, “Oh, wow. You’re the first conduit I’ve met that I haven’t had to fight before we talk.”

You let out a soft chuckle at his words, sitting back on the mattress, finally letting your exhaustion shine through. You could just imagine Fetch and Eugene’s reactions when they met the guy. Not pretty.

“Yeah, well my heads screwed on a bit tighter than Eugene and Fetch’s.” You gazed at him curiously, admiring the way his eyes glistened with humor in the firelight. “Why did you save me?”

He seemed surprised by your words, “We’re conduits. We have to look out for each other.”

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief, skeptical, “Bullshit. Everybody wants something in this world.”

He scratched the back of his neck, contemplating his next words before finally speaking, “Okay. You caught me. But, that still is part of the reason you know.”

“Uh huh, sure... so tell me what you---

“What’s your name?” he interrupted.

You were surprised once more, but decided to tell him without giving him a hard time. “(Y/N).”

He smiled, “I’m Delsin... Delsin Rowe.”

Another pause, then you spoke, “So, Delsin Rowe,” he smirked as you said his full name, making your cheeks go slightly pink. You had to admit, the guy was handsome. “What do you want?”

“If we weren’t wanted ‘criminals’? To take you out on a date, but seeing how difficult that would be with all the D.U.P.s around, we’ll have to wait until after you help me take down Augustine.”

Your face was bright red now, and you struggled to keep your composure as he began to walk closer to you, “And what makes you think I can help you take down Augustine?”

He sat next to you on the mattress, his knee brushing yours ever so slightly, sending waves of electricity through your body, “I saw your finishing move. It was crazy badass, angel. With that move, we could beat her for sure.”

There was that pet name again.

“Angel?” you gulped.

His eyes were piercing as he held your gaze, and you ran a hand nervously through your hair as you averted your eyes, embarrassed.

“Seeing you flying in the air like that? I thought you were one, kind of still do,” he quipped confidently.

You grew even more flustered, struggling to think of what to say when the image of the agents you killed earlier flashed through your mind.

You met his gaze once more, your eyes going dark, “Trust me. I’m no angel.”

“Hard to believe,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes before changing the subject, “What do you call your finisher?”

You hesitated for just moment,“The Crystal Hellfire.”

He let out a whistle that started high and ended low, “God damn. Now that’s a fucking name.”

Suddenly, he turned toward you, his hands inches from your own as he stared deep into your eyes, “(Y/N), my conduit ability isn’t smoke. I can... I can learn other conduits’ powers. I have neon and digital, too, from Fetch and Eugene. I won’t take away your power; you’ll still have glass, but I need you to let me have yours, too, to take down Augustine. So, I know it’s a lot to ask but, will you let me have your power?”

You stared down at your hands. The feeling of your power coursing through your veins was constant, and you knew that glass was one of the most, if not the most, deadly conduit power in the world. Did you really trust this man you just met enough with that sort of ability?

Sucking in deep a breath, you murmured just loud enough for him to hear, “Are you going to kill her? ...Are you going to kill Augustine?”

He didn’t even hesitate, “No. The things she has done are horrible but she doesn’t deserve to die. She needs to be tried for her crimes and locked up; she needs to experience the pain that she inflicted on so many innocent people.”

You smiled at his answer, satisfied, and the genuine look in his irises was all you needed to say yes.

“You can have my power, Delsin... on one condition.”

He waited for you to continue, curiosity in his features.

You grinned humorously, “No seafood.”

His eyebrows knit together in confusion, “What?”

“Our date. I don’t like seafood.”

“Oh,” he said stupidly before collecting himself, his signature smirk reappearing on his lips, “As you wish, angel.”

And then, in a flash, his hands were under yours, pulling them toward his lips to place a swift kiss on your knuckles, sending another shock wave through your body just before your past flashed before your eyes and white crystals of glass began to flow between your fingertips, glowing bright around the both of you before you succumbed to the darkness once more.

[wawacrosswalks]

I've started playing InFAMOUS: Second Son (yes, I know I'm about eight years late) but let's just say that I am getting some ideas for my Superhero AU and for Tommy tehehe

[neon-mooni]

So I’m writing an au fanfic where Reggie is a water conduit

And all I can imagine is Delsin’s smoke turning into steam anytime Reggie is in close proximity to Delsin.

[esamastation]

In which Desmond is in Curdun Cay

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Twenty-Four — Burden Borne

How much bloodshed? How many people would have to die so their graves could be the foundation of peace? How many more was I supposed to be able to stomach, to see as permissible? Why was there a fucking allowed amount in the first place? 

4.7k words | 16 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Death, injuries, natural disaster, murder, testing condoned by the US Government

“We’ll call you with results as soon as we get them,” the doctor said as the nurse rushed off with the skin biopsy. Dr. Sims nodded, thanking her for her time as she finished dressing another new set of stitches and snapping off thick surgery gloves, disappearing past the curtain and out the door. 

Dad was pacing now, his shadow casting across the floor again and again as he passed by the open window. Brent was in his chair, steering clear of his stomps lest he wished to be bulldozed over. Dr. Sims double checked the new set of stitches on my leg, shaking his head slightly. 

No one would talk, and I think that’s what scared me the most about this. I’d just found out Augustine had some mystery power when we fought, something Dad and Dr. Sims weren’t even familiar with, and no one would say anything! It felt like I was attending my own wake, like my fate was already out of my hands. 

Dad was the first to break. “You ever heard of anything like this?” He asked Dr. Sims. 

Dr. Sims stood, helping me cover my leg back up with the blanket. “A power that can negate someone’s healing? No.” 

Dad went right back to pacing. “I didn’t even know tar could be a power,” he muttered. 

“I’ve…heard rumors,” Dr. Sims said, moving back to his computer and scrolling through it a bit. “But nothing like this.”

“What do we do?” Dad demanded.

I could see how Dr. Sims tensed even with his back turned, how he hesitated for a moment before saying to Dad, “I want to get samples before jumping to any conclusions. I know someone who could help, but not without that tar.”

Dad glanced over at me — only for a moment, though. It seemed like he couldn’t stomach looking at me for too long. “I can’t go right now,” He said pointedly. 

Dr. Sims logged out of the mini-laptop and closed in, turning in place. “I’ll go back to Salmon Bay, see if I can find anything.” He was already shrugging on his jacket by the time Dad agreed. “I’ll call you if the doctors get back to me before I return,”

Dr. Sims then turned to regard both Brent and I. “If either of you can think of anything else, tell your father.”

He left on hurried goodbyes, leaving the three of us in an awkward and tense silence.

Dad wouldn’t stop pacing, and Brent refused to look me in the eye. Both seemed angry, though I wasn’t really sure why — well, no, I knew why Brent was. He was up in arms because I had the gall to give a fuck about him enough to try and keep Augustine from making him malleable. All I knew was I couldn’t stand being in the room much longer. “Dad?”

He only hummed in response. “D’you think it’s okay if I take that bath?”

I got final confirmation from the doctor that it was okay so long as I didn’t get that hole in my neck wet, and left the two of them to ruminate on their issues, giving myself the time to worry about my own. 

I wasn’t prepared to face my reflection and see that’s what I looked like. I felt like I was more bandage and bruise than human; so many parts of my skin lit up blue, like I rolled around in spilled ink. My back was steeped in iodine and littered with black stitches, the skin around the slice on my side was bright red. My neck was even a little bit swollen on the left of it where that ball of concrete hit it. I couldn’t stomach looking at myself for long. It was just another reminder of how wrong everything was. 

The shallow water soothed my aches, thank god, but all that did was clear up enough room for my nerves to take hold. All I could think about was my fear. Why wouldn’t I heal, what was wrong with me? The water slid off of my legs with a laze to it, my powers working against gravity. It reminded me of that dress of water in my…dream? Hallucination? Purgatory? I didn’t know what it was. I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to know, because that’d be some confirmation of whether Mom was real or not. I wanted her to be real, I wanted her to be there — but that’d also mean something would have to happen to me if I was to ever meet her again. And now that I was a broken Conduit…

It felt like too much of a possibility, returning to her. 

But fuck, I’d give anything to make that hug real. To make those reassurances real. I just wanted my Mom, was that so bad? I just needed someone to tell me things were going to be okay. 

I broke down thinking about how gentle she was, how I missed out on a lifetime of that. Hallucination or not, I was homesick for a place I couldn’t return to. 

I didn’t come back out of the bathroom for an hour, but it didn’t matter — neither of them changed places. Dad was still as a statue now, leaned against the wall and looking out of the window at Seattle, but otherwise nothing changed. 

Well, that wasn’t true. The television program ended to show the mid-morning news, and I froze in the middle of braiding my hair to look at what was on it. 

Elliott Bay was flooded, boats misplaced and docks completely shredded, the roofs of some shacks at the ends of piers floating freely in the flood. There were flashes of businesses partially underwater in West Seattle, of people in Queen Anne sitting atop their roofs waiting to be rescued. Downtown wasn’t spared; the base of the Space Needle was a pool, a few unlucky people in hi-vis coats wading through the polluted murk. The stream cut to a simulated chart of the flooding, captioned Christmas Eve Tsunami 2036.

“What happened?” I asked, moving towards the wall the television was mounted on. Slowly, as the ache was already permeating my body again. I might have to live in water just to make it through this healing process painlessly. I finished buttoning the spare soft flannel Dad gave me in place of a pajama shirt, staring at the simulation as ten foot tall waters overtook the map. 

Dad cursed behind me, and before I knew it, the television was off, him holding the wired remote like it was an IED. He looked at me, bug-eyed, and said, “Jean—”

Why was he so freaked out? “Was there a tsunami?” I asked, like it wasn’t painfully obvious. The west was littered with fault lines, there were three in the Portland area alone — was there an actual, big earthquake this time? Did it flood Seattle? 

Brent was white as a ghost when I glanced back at him, making me pause. “Did…did someone get hurt?” I asked. Tsunamis can go both ways, right? Did the reservation get flooded?

They both stayed looking at me like that, like they expected me to break, and I could feel realization settle into the ache between my shoulder blades as I thought about Christmas Eve. About how the last thing I did was summon a huge wave to wipe Augustine and the Archangel soldiers off of the earth. I wasn’t there to pull it back like I did the whirlpool, to control how the tides would fall. 

Oh God. There was no earthquake, otherwise the news would have said so. There was just a tsunami, and I had an idea where it came from. “Did…” I choked out. “Did I…”

Dad slowly laid the remote back on the bed. “It’s not your fault,” He began, confirming everything I needed to know. Everything except one thing. 

“How many people died?” I whispered. 

Dad shook his head lightly. “Jeanie—”

I was already starting for the remote before he could say more, but he didn’t fight to stop me. Guess he knew I was going to find out regardless, and decided it’d be better to deal with the fallout than the fight. 

I didn’t need to turn the volume high. I didn’t even really need to try and search for the answer; it was there clear as day on the screen, 134 CONFIRMED DEAD, Over 3,000 INJURED.

One hundred and thirty four dead. 

“No,” I muttered, my uninjured hand shooting to my mouth. Oh my god, I did this. I killed all these people before Christmas. “No, no, no.” 

I didn’t feel the ground rushing towards me until Brent snatched me from the air, his hold pressing into my injured side and making me yelp. None of that mattered. I deserved every bit of pain, I deserved to hurt. I didn’t deserve for Brent to catch me from my collapse and help lower me to the ground as I began sobbing, nor did I deserve Dad coming around the bed to take me from his arms. How was I supposed to act like being treated well was okay when over a hundred people were dead from what I’ve done?

I was deaf to Dad’s reassurances, barely able to see his figure past the blur of my tears — his figure on the television, I mean. There was layman footage of him pulling back a wave, just enough to make the rush an ebb before disappearing into the water again. 

The only reason people were alive was because of Dad. The only reason I was, was because of Dad. How much more reckless was I going to get? “I killed those people,” I whispered, aghast. 

“Jean, you weren’t there, you were gone before—“ Dad started, but I cut him off with my head shaking. 

“No, no.” I sobbed. 

“This isn’t your fault—“ 

“Stop lying to me!” I demanded on a screech that sounded inhuman. I couldn’t do this anymore! My entire life was a fucking lie, he didn’t tell me the truth when I asked what happened to Mom’s brother — I couldn’t stomach another something sugared in half-truths to help me swallow it down. He hadn’t even told me about this, and he had time to! 

It was my water, my tsunami, that did this. “I did this,” I sobbed. 

Was this what Augustine was trying to protect Mom from? Feeling like she was a monster because of what her powers could do?

I watched the sun set over a distressed city, all cried out. The flooding seemed to have receded mostly, if that segment was to be believed, but that didn’t mitigate the damage. The destroyed homes, the destroyed lives. My power could kill so easily, and I didn’t even stop to care about anyone else when I was freezing. 

I didn’t think at all. That was the issue — I didn’t think. 

“—anything, Jean?” Dad’s voice broke through my thoughts. 

“Hm?” I hummed, looking up. Dad and Brent were standing in the middle of some kind of delegation, Dad with his coat on. 

“I said: did you want anything from the cafeteria downstairs?” Dad repeated. 

I just shook my head, looking back out the window. How the hell was I supposed to eat when my stomach felt like this? 

There was some more muttering but none of it really reached my ears. Footsteps, the door closing—

And then someone sitting on my bed. 

I looked over to Dad just as he finished taking off his coat, and asked, “Where’s Brent?”

“Figured he could get his own food,” Dad shrugged, tossing his coat onto the seat of the chair. “Wanted to talk to you, too.” 

Oh, great. 

I dropped my eyes, raising my one hand to meet my other so I could pick at the PICC. “Jean,” he called gently. “None of what happened is your fault.” 

“How is it not, Dad?” I whispered. I wanted to put fire behind the demand but I could barely even raise my voice. 

“You weren’t…” he hesitated. “Aware for it. You didn’t intentionally push those tidal waves into Seattle.”

I might as well have. 

Dad waited a while longer, probably for me to say something, and sighed when I didn’t. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for this. You were trying to protect yourself — and Brent — and you did. You know how proud I am about that? You know how many times I had to fight Augustine before—“

“It shouldn’t be at the expense of other people,” I interrupted. “I was trying to stop Augustine from killing the Akomish and I just killed way more people than she would have if I stood by,”

“But you didn’t,” Dad said pointedly. “You didn’t just stand by. I think that matters more.”

“Yeah, tell that to everyone who lost family on fucking Christmas.” I snipped. 

“You’re not gonna be the hero to everyone,” Dad continued. Thank God he didn’t chastise me for cursing, I think I would have lost it if he did. “No matter what you do, someone’s going to see you as a bad guy. They did me—”

“You didn’t kill over a hundred people!” I cut him off, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “You kept me from doing more damage! You don’t get t-to sit there and act like it wasn’t a bad thing! You know it’s bad — that’s why you didn't mention mom killing her brother, and you wouldn’t have even told me about the tsunami if I didn’t see it! You know it’s something to be ashamed of,”

There were times, when Dad would engage us in our little arguments and debates, that he’d turn on the stoic lawyer thing and we’d definitely lose the fight. There was just something about arguing emotions versus logic against a person that made you talk yourself into a corner. He wouldn’t be emotionless, mind you — he’d validate points that we made, empathize. But it always felt like he was trying to teach us to not let our emotions be the only thing that drove us. 

Dad dropped the bloodsucker facade for this fight. His eyes softened at the tears pooling in mine, and he bit on his cheek so hard it looked painful. “You’d just gone through hell, Jean, I didn’t want to make it any harder for you—”

“You can’t use that as an excuse,” I cut him off. “I asked you about Mom and Uncle Brent days ago. You promised no more lies and the next day you lied!”

“I didn’t lie,” He stated simply. “Your uncle died because of a gang war. That’s true.”

Oh my fucking god. I ground my teeth once I realized what he did, the bastard. “You used your stupid little perjury loopholes on me?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant—”

“It was, Dad, it was very relevant!” I scoffed. 

Dad leaned forward slightly. “And you would have wanted to know that? You would have wanted to know your Mom killed her brother by accident and it haunted her for the rest of her life? Your mom was on anti-psychotics because of the damage it did to her. She’d sob about it at least once a week. Augustine used that fact to get her to do her bidding, brainwashed your mother into being her perfect little sniper. Your mom deserved to be known for more than that, for better than that.”

“I would have thought that either way,” I insisted. “I would have forgiven almost anything she did, but you — you didn’t tell me, and now it feels like I can’t even trust you to give me the chance to choose.” I motioned towards the television. “You didn’t tell me what happened so that I could — so that I’d just know—”

“You needed to rest and heal before worrying about anything like that—”

I pointed to my broken arm slung in a cast, at the way the purple of its plastic almost faded away into the purple of my bruising. “That would have taken weeks! You know it’s something I should feel bad about, and that’s why you didn’t tell me. So I wouldn’t be ashamed of how I killed people.”

“You did not kill them.” Dad insisted, stressing every word. “It’s not your fault.”

“I caused the tsunami. I wasn’t in control, I didn’t think. That’s enough,” 

Dad grabbed my other hand when I went to drop it, and it took everything in me not to pull away. “You were…you were dying, Jean. When we found you in the Sound a few days after you disappeared, you were in this mass that left you barely warm enough to have a heartbeat. If it wasn’t for the Sound doing that, you would have died. You can’t blame yourself for not having control when you were about to die.”

“You don’t understand,” I finally decided, looking away. Back outside of that window, back to the skyline of Seattle. How many of them blamed me for what happened? 

Dad inhaled, and for a moment, stayed quiet. I knew he was probably just building another argument, something I wasn’t going to relate to at all. Something I wasn’t going to accept. Then he spoke, and what he said caught me off guard: “Do you know how many Akomish died because of Augustine?”

I looked up slowly, eyebrows raising. “Huh?” 

“When you went over the Seattle Uprising in school, did they mention how many Akomish died?” he repeated. I shook my head. “Forty-eight. One hundred and thirteen were interrogated, stuffed with fucking concrete, and almost half of them died.” He sighed. “When Augustine got there after your mom and Eugene broke out, I’d just got my first power. I had it for probably fifteen minutes, max. She thought the guy I got smoke from told me about her plan — the breakout and the DUP funding, all that. When I told her all he gave me was his power…she didn’t believe me. She thought I was covering for him, that I was making fun of her, and I…I didn’t show her I had powers. I could have tried. I could have done something, anything…but I froze. I watched her put concrete in Betty’s legs and I did nothing. She went through the reservation interrogating people, sticking concrete in them all, and by the time I came back with her power so I could undo it, almost fifty people had passed. I could have kept everyone from dying, and I didn’t.

“And you want to know something else? I’ve killed.” He stated plainly, admitting to the crime. “I’ve had to, to survive. To keep you safe, like in that alley. But I’ve also…I’ve done it because I wanted to. That anger your mom felt enough of to hunt down drug dealers? I’ve experienced it. I followed through with it.” 

I could feel the blood rush from my face. Dad’s killed people too? 

“I’ve been on both sides. At fault inadvertently, and directly involved. I’ve been in a middle ground where it had to happen. I understand. And I have enough experience to know that, what you did? Is not your fault. You weren’t out of control, you didn’t do it selfishly. You were dying and you did what you could. There’ll…there’ll be death in fights like this. Archangel is out hunting for blood, and fights like this sometimes can only be won with loss. But you cannot blame yourself for every loss that happens. You couldn’t prevent any of them, you shouldn’t have to carry that burden.” 

War isn’t won in battles, but bloodshed, Augustine had said. 

How much bloodshed? How many people would have to die so their graves could be the foundation of peace? How many more was I supposed to be able to stomach, to see as permissible? Why was there a fucking allowed amount in the first place? 

I stayed silent, sitting there for what felt like forever, picking at the cuticles on the hand connected to my broken arm. “Do you regret it?” I finally whispered, unable to look up.

“What?” 

“Killing someone,” I clarified, meeting his eyes. “It…do you regret it?”

Inhaling, he nodded. “Yeah, I do.” 

“Why?” I asked, still nearly silent. “Why did you…” 

Dad swallowed hard, and he seemed to be so far away as he thought about why. “I don’t want to justify what I did,” he started, “I can’t. It was wrong. I was on a warpath and didn’t care about anything but revenge. But I swear, I regret it. It’s haunted me since. It’s not something you can just forget, no matter how hard you try. And I regret not being honest with you. I shouldn’t have white lied my way out of explaining what happened with your mom, I’m sorry.”

I nodded, not opening my mouth to spit out some form of it’s okay because it definitely wasn’t. I didn’t feel like it was, at least. All I could keep thinking about were the casualties. 

Dad squeezed my hand gently, and said, “You should eat. They’re wanting to give you an antibiotic to prevent infections and you can’t have those without food,”

“Yeah,” I muttered, “Okay.”

Brent didn’t seem like he was holding onto his anger anymore, at least. Thank God — I wasn’t sure if I could take any more fighting. He wouldn’t really meet my eyes either though, even when we were facing each other as night came, trying to fall asleep. 

That was harder than it needed to be: sleeping in a hospital. Every noise seemed to carry further than possible through the halls; every machine beep, every patient’s cough, every nurse’s footsteps. My eyes may have been closed but it sure felt like my brain stayed awake through it all — which is why it was so easy to pick up on the hushed voices on the other side of the curtain. 

“—hell do you think it is?” Dad finished. 

“Don’t know,” Dr. Sims muttered back. 

“You said you’ve heard of this shit as a power before?”

“Tar? Yeah. Way back in the day, DARPA caught this woman that worked for the First Sons, some scientist. Had tar powers. She was one of the first Conduits they started experimenting on before the DUP became a separate thing from the DoD.”

Only about twenty percent of that made sense to me. 

I quietly rolled over to face the curtain that separated me from Dad and Dr. Sims, whose silhouettes were cast against the blue wall from the light of the bathroom. Dad was holding up a long tube of something, Dr. Sims standing across from him, arms crossed. 

“DARPA? Like, the government?” Dad asked. 

Dr. Sims’ shadow nodded. “Yeah. Turns out, they were funding the First Sons, probably the whole reason Empire City happened in the first place. The tar had mind-control abilities, and they were using it for some sort of revival of the MK-ULTRA project. Killed her over a whistleblower before the media could investigate and swept it all under the rug,”

“Jesus,” Dad breathed out. 

“You’ve missed a lot the past sixteen years,” Dr. Sims laughed mirthlessly under his breath. “There’s a lot of shit the public doesn’t know. The First Sons even used this stuff to get people to attack MacGrath during the Quarantine. Made people sick too,”

Dad’s hand lowered. “And this stuff’s in my daughter? Is that why she won’t heal?”

“That’s the thing,” Dr. Sims took the tube back. “I don’t know if it’s the same, or some mutated version from the experiments, or what. I know nothing about this stuff at all.”

Dad’s next breath was shaky. “Fuck,” his head shook. “I’m scared, man. This is Abbs all over again.”

“You don’t know that, D—”

“She stopped healing first.” Dad interrupted — almost painfully. “You remember! The healing went first, and then the speed, and then the fuckin’—” he cut off when his voice caught. “I thought there was something wrong with her. I thought something about her flipped. If the same thing’s happening to Jean? That — it means it might not have been a coincidence.”

“You think it might run in the family?” 

“I don’t know.” Dad tilted his head back slightly, like he was trying to keep bile from appearing. “I don’t know if I think it’s hereditary, or if…if someone maybe did something to Abbs.”

“Del, you don’t know if that’s—“

Dad’s hand swung wildly in my direction. “My kid’s got forty-six stitches! Her arm’s broken! Only other time I’ve seen a Conduit like this is when Abbs’ c-section scar got infected. We don’t get infections, we don’t get stitches. I don’t know if it’s something hereditary, or because of that shit, but I don’t like that it’s happening again.”

I blinked out of my sleep then. Mom…stopped healing, too? That was where her sickness started?

Dr. Sims hummed gently. “I’m worried too, but remember the exact same thing is happening to those old DUP agents.”

“Yeah — ‘cause they’re forced Conduits! Jean’s prime—”

“We can’t make any assumptions until we know more about what’s going on.”

Dad’s hands came up to run through his hair, and I could hear him sigh deeply. “So then what do we do?”

“I could run a microarray on her, see if it’s genetic. I’d want Brent’s as a base sample too.”

“And if it’s not that?” Dad demanded.

Dr. Sims hesitated for a moment. “I…know someone that could help us,” he began. “Someone that’s seen this stuff in action. Might have some connections, too. But…” he drew off. “You’re not gonna like it.”

The shadow of Dad’s head cocked to the side in curiosity, and they were silent for a full ten seconds before Dad’s head snapped straight again and he said, “No. Absolutely not.”

“Del, listen—”

“Not happening. Do you not remember last time?”

“That was almost eighteen years ago—”

“And it hasn’t been long enough! You weren’t there, man. He’s weird! I got this speech that didn’t make sense and he — the fucker wouldn’t even meet me after everything—”

“You’re still holding on to that?”

“He’s not even a Conduit!” Dad hissed on a whisper that was bordering a regular voice. The closest he could get to yelling. “He has no business being involved is this—”

“He is the closest we will ever get to talking to Cole MacGrath,” Dr. Sims interrupted. His silhouette raised the tube and shook it at Dad slightly. “You wanna know what this is? You wanna help Jean? He’s the only one that can help. Him, or the government — and you and I both know how that would go.”

Dad’s hands came up, and while I couldn’t really tell what he was doing, I knew he was probably pressing his palms into his eyes like he always did when he was frustrated. But then his head raised and looked my way, and my breath froze. Did he know I was eavesdropping? 

No, he didn’t. Looking towards where I was seemed to be the last cannonball that broke down the wall of his objection, because he sighed, entirely complicit and absolutely unwillingly, “Fine. Okay. How do we get in contact with him? I haven’t talked to him since that shit with Wolfe,”

“We’ve got a system. He likes to stay off the radar, but he’s not too hard to find.” Dr. Sims tucked the tube away in his pocket, saying “Take out your phone,” while doing so.

Dad did, the click of him unlocking it echoing off of the sterile walls. “Okay, now what?” 

Dr. Sims held out his hand, and that twinkling sound that always accompanied his power came back. It wasn’t like Dad’s; Dad’s had the underlying tone of TV static, where Dr. Sims’ almost sounded like what I imagined wizard magic would sound like. Their side of the curtain lit up, making me squint in discomfort at the sudden light change, and by the time the sound ended and the brightness dimmed, Dad was in the middle of cursing. “Eugene — fuck — I didn’t mean now—”

“I can only catch his signal when I concentrate on it,” Dr. Sims shrugged. “Otherwise it’s scrambled.”

“Yeah, okay, but I’d have liked to have slept before dealing with him,” Dad grumbled, the hand holding his phone coming up to his ear. I could barely hear the ringing that came from the receiver; it sang once, twice, and then was picked up, Dad sighing as the voice on the other side answered. 

“Zeke Dunbar?” Dad asked. “This is Delsin Rowe.” His body turned slightly in place so he could look where he knew I was, a final reminder of why he needed to call. “I need your help.”

[thedeathofmabe]

I recently finish InFAMOUS Second Son (I know, really late) and I can't stop thinking to make a Fanfiction Crossover with Assassin's Creed. But not just there, I really want to make something with Prototype. So what do you think?. AC x InFAMOUS x Prototype?. Anyway, I'm really sorry for the lates updates in AO3 for being so long. I study medicine...so... well, I'm diying everytime lmao.

[dzthenerd490]

Action Report: Capture Rebirth

Regular reports of a strange, abandoned building where people go in but don't get out caused Iota-10 forces to alert Foundation staff right away about the location while keeping the local law forces away from the area. The area was [data expunged] of West Verginia, quite small and surrounded by forest. However, it was claimed to be haunted and thus children often go to make ghost videos, thus leading to the disappearances. One survivor was apprehended by the foundation calming they were attacked by a giant spider made of metal. They were later given a Class B Amnestic and given the cover story that they survived the attack of a serial killer while their friends died, trauma being the given reason for the memory loss. Iota-10 forces were assigned to plant false evidence of a serial killer in the area and use said evidence to direct the local law enforcement to another direction.

Due to the info of a "giant spider made of metal" it was suspected that a faction of the Church of the Broken God is responsible for the disappearances. To ensure no more unnecessary human casualties would occur MTF Delta-5 deployed a strike force to assess whether the area was under the control of GoI: Church of the Broken God, and if necessary, strike.

- October 11th, 2020: Delta-5 strike force dispatched. D-1 through D-6 were deployed around the area. D-1 armed with electromagnetic sniper rifle, D-2 armed with plasma torch thrower, D-3 through D-6 armed with assault rifles with AP rounds. The Strike force was briefed that this was a reconnaissance mission only and that engagement and termination of occupants in the building is only if all other options are unavailable.

Recording Begins

Command-1: All units in position? Over.

D-1: Yes sir, moving in on the target right now. Over.

Command-1: copy that D-1, remember your mission is information gathering only. Do not engage any hostiles or anomalies unless it is the only option. Over.

D-1: acknowledged. We surrounding the site now anything to report boys?

D-3: no sir.

D-5: nothing here.

D-6: nope.

D-2: no sir.

D-4: no sir.

D-1: Alright let's get a closer look then, weapons hot everyone let's not take any chances.

D-3: So uh, what exactly are we dealing with Sir?

D-1: Honestly no idea, thought the higher ups believe it's the Church of the Broken God. the evidence is that a survivor reported seeing a giant metal spider.

D-4: A giant metal spider? That's new. Doesn't sound like typical Church behavior.

D-1: Must be a pet project or something, Like I said we don't know. Alright hold position for now. Command, we're about to enter the building. Over.

Command-1: Copy that D-1, keep us posted as you survey the interior.

D-1: Acknowledged, Alright boys, enter slowly and quiet-

Static cut out the end of D-1's dialogue, Command assumed it was just regular audio static and thus waited on D-1 to respond himself. However, after 5 minutes there was no response from any one of the Detla-5 strike force.

Command-1: D-1? are you there? D-1 please report... D-2? D-3? D-4, 5, 6? Is anyone there?

Command-2: what's going on?

Command-1: I don't know, they're not responding, Detla-5 please respond, where are you guys?

D-1: ... WHO IS THIS?

Command remained silent for a short while before responding.

Command-1: this- this is the police, release our men and the law will be lenient on you.

D-1: ... THE POLICE? ... YOU FOOLS... YOU WOULD BE WISE TO FORGET YOUR ALLIES... THEY WILL BE THE FOOD FOR THE NEW GODS...

Command-2: what the hell does that mean?

Command-1: Shhh! we know you're a part of a cult known as the Church of the Broken God! You have nowhere to hide!

D-1: ... WE ARE NOT SERVENTS OF MEKHANE... WE ARE OUR OWN GODS!

After this the audio cuts out abruptly indicating that whoever was talking destroyed the radio.

Command-1: what the hell was that?

Command-2: oh shit, start the Van! we got entities heading our way!

Recording Ends

Command was confirmed to be the only survivors of the operation, due to the incoming threats Command was unable to gather more information as they retreated. The operation was declared a failure. Upon reviewing the recording, it was ruled out that the organization was aligned with the COTBG due to the phrase "we are not servants of Mekhane" Mekhane being the deity of the COTBG. However, the phrase "we are our own gods" confirms it was indeed a cult and how they were able to take out the Detla-5 strike force, know the existence of Mekhane, and locate command so easily shows they are an anomalous cult and thus a potential Group of Interest. Due to the increased danger displayed by the GoI, the deployment of another Delta-5 strike force was denied. Instead, due to the danger and need for more information, a request was made to deploy Z-1: Video of MTF Zues-1, the request was granted almost immediately.

- October 13th, 2020: Z-1: Video of MTF Zues-1 was dispatched. The Team consisted of three parts with ZA units given video cloaking abilities and silencer pistols. ZB units given standard Foundation assault rifles and video object/ weapon manifestation powers. ZC units being the no anomalously enhanced and acting as the command control. ZA-1 through ZA-3, ZB-1 through ZB-6, and ZC-1 through ZC-2 were deployed. Eugene Sims was not requested to participate but insisted on coming due to the potential overwhelming threat.

Recording Begins

Eugene Sims: Ok people, with hope we won't need to engage in combat. ZA-1 through ZA-3 begin cloaking and infiltrate. ZB-1 and 2 stay with us and guard. ZB-3 through ZB-6 survey the area. ZC-1 and 2 keep me posted on everything.

ZA-1: Copy that.

ZB-1: Copy.

ZB-3: Copy.

ZC-1: Copy.

ZA-1: Alright entering building now.

Eugene Sims: Great, keep us posted. Everything good on the outside?

ZB-3: So far so good.

ZB-4: yup nothing outside.

ZB-6: only movement inside the building detected.

ZB-5: yeah there's no...

ZC-1: ZB-5? what's wrong?

ZB-5: uh, has anybody else seen the bugs, they don't... look right...

ZB-6: congratulations you found a new species, take a picture and earn your nobel prize later idiot.

Eugene Sims: ZB-6 shut up; ZB-5 take a closer look at the bugs if you can. ZC-1 look into ZB-5's camera and see if you find something abnormal.

ZB-5: Ah, got it... Woah look at this thing, it's like a grasshopper but, it's got weird black boils all over it. Command do you see this?

ZC-1: huh, yeah I see it, strange their alight so evenly around the body almost like... ZB-5 can you see other creatures like it around the woods?

ZB-5: uh yeah give me a sec... holy-! their all around me!

ZB-3: shit, their around me too!

ZB-4: they're just staring not doing anything else.

ZB-6: what the hell?! when I move around, they just keep following me but when I stop, they stop.

Eugene Sims: Shit, ok ZB-3 through ZB-6 weapons hot but don’t fire, so far, those things aren't hostile but that doesn't mean their harmless.  ZC-2 check on ZA-1 through ZA-3's status.

ZC-2: Copy, ZA-1, 2, and 3 come in, you boys doing, ok?

ZA-1: yeah, were good, but uh, you guys are not going to like this. I think this is a Sarkic stronghold.

ZC-2: what?

ZA-1: It's like a maze down here, and worst off it's got its own minotaur's! There are these living corpses wandering around, with these purple syringes.

ZA-3: I've been seeing them too, its only because of the cloaking we didn't get ambushed and injected. these things are so damn quiet, I almost ran into a few of them.

ZC-2: Sounds like guards, keep avoiding them as much as possible and find out what their guarding.

ZA-1: Copy that.

ZB-2: Uh Command, we got those Grasshopper things surrounding us too.

ZB-1: Ugh! Gross! I think those black boils are eyes!

ZC-1: Keep monitoring the anomalous bugs, let us know if their behavior changes in any way.

ZB-1: Acknowledged, ugh, it's definitely Sarkic, only those flesh freaks would make gross ass stalker grasshoppers and walking corpses.

ZC-1: That would explain why they said they're not servants of Mekhane and that they are their own gods.

ZC-2: But then what about the report of the giant metal spider?

ZC-1: Could have been confusion from intense fear, makes sense given the anomalous stuff we've seen so far. But then again, mutant insects and undead monsters does sound Sarkic but it also kinda... off. Like this sounds Sarkic but it doesn't feel Sarkic.

Eugene Sims: Speculating isn't going to help us figure it out people. Keep cataloguing everything you find, leave no stone unturned.

All Z-1: Video units remained radio silent for approximately ten minutes due to no changes in monitoring or events. Radio chatter only resumes after ZA-3 manages to find a staircase leading to the next floor.

ZA-3: Command I finally made it past the maze! There's a staircase leading down.

Eugene Sims: Copy that, good work ZA-3. proceed with caution and tells us what you find. ZC-1 and 2, record her steps and tell ZA-1 and 2 to follow ZA-3 to give her backup.

ZC-1: roger, retracing now.

Suddenly static could be heard over the radio along with grunting form ZB-3.

ZB-3: Shit!

ZC-2: ZB-3? Are you ok? What happened?

ZB-3: I don't know! Something just super-fast just slipped past me!

ZB-2: Fuck! The building is compromised something just entered the building! Repeat, an unknown entity just entered the building! ZA-1, ZA-2, and ZA-3 are in danger!

ZC-2: Copy that! ZA-1, 2, and 3 be advised! Possible hostile has entered the building, weapons hot! Do not turn off your cloaking!

ZC-1: ZA-1 and ZA-2 I'm going to show you how to retrace ZA-3's steps.

ZA-1: Copy that.

ZA-2: Copy, ready to receive.

ZA-3: uh, Command? I made it down the stairs but... I looks like I'm in a prison here.

ZC-2: That's to be expected when it comes to Sarkic's are the cells filled with prisoners or anomalies?

ZA-3: uh no, Command. It's not like a run down and disgusting prison... it's like a futuristic prison!

Eugene Sims: what? That can't be right.

ZC-2: Could it be the base of a Neo-Sarkic clan?

ZA-3: Look through my camera and see for yourself.

Command viewed the ZA-3's camera and saw how clean and polished the prison looked like it was designed with a futuristic appeal.

ZC-2: Huh... Guess this particular Neo-Sarkic clan has some unique taste.

Eugene Sims: All the cells are empty, ZA-3 continue looking around see what you can find.

ZC-1: ZA-1 and ZA-2, have you found the staircase?

ZA-1: Yup, going down it now.

ZC-1: Good... ZA-2 what about you?

ZA-2 remains silent, Eugene Sims only waits thirty seconds before trying the radio himself.

Eugene Sims: Uh, ZA-2? Where are you?

Again ZA-2 remains silent.

Eugene Sims: ZA-1 do you see ZA-2?

ZA-1: uh, yeah, he's right behind... uh, he was right behind me I swear.

Eugene Sims, ZC-1 and ZC-2 all remain silent for a short while, they then quickly get back into contact with the units.

ZC-1: ZA-3 stop moving, stay where you are and wait for ZA-1.

ZC-2: ZA-1 get down the stairs as quickly as possible! You will find ZA-3 waiting for you there, stay with her and update us as soon as possible.

Eugene Sims: ZB-1 through ZB-6 has there been any change of the anomalous insects? Any at all?

While ZB-1 through ZB-6 confirmed to be ok, ZC-1 checked on ZA-1 and ZA-2's progress.

ZC-1: Your almost there ZA-1, do not stop.

ZA-1: God damn it, how could something have gotten ZA-2? he was still cloaking like I was.

ZA-1 finally makes it down the stars and reunites with ZA-3 the two of them hug and laugh out of relief. Due to them relaxing they unintentionally stop using their cloaking abilities.

ZC-1: Hey you two! Turn you're cloaking back on right now!

ZA-2: TOO LATE...

ZA-1 and ZA-3 quickly pull out their pistols when they hear the voice coming from ZA-2's radio. ZC-1 and Eugene Sims look into their cameras to see if anything has appeared. Then all three of them remain silent as they can vaguely see an invisible entity walking on the celling. ZA-3 quickly shoots where she can see the body of the entity is. They entity screeches and uncloaks itself to reveal a giant metal spider with flesh underneath it's exoskeleton.

ZA-1: HOLY SHIT!

ZA-1 and ZA-3 instantly start firing at the anomalous entity aiming directly for its eyes. The entity screeches in pain, because of their AP rounds even the exoskeleton is damaged. However, ZA-1 and ZA-3 manage to shoot several organic eyes causing the entity to bleed and screech angrily. The entity then cloaks again and runs away; however, ZA-1 and ZA-3 can still see it because of the blood and shot at it as it retreats. They do not stop firing until it is out of sight.

ZA-1: WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT THING?!

ZC-1: This... This doesn't make any sense. is this really the Church of the Broken god?

ZC-2: but that makes no sense! why would the COTBG utilize mutant stalker bugs and zombies? That's more of what Sarkic's do.

Eugene Sims: Alright that's enough, all units pull out! We are clearly not informed or equipped enough to deal with this threat. prepare to make a rough retreat!

ZA-2: YOU WON'T GET FAR!

ZA-1: God damn it! Command, will you guys disconnect his radio!

It took ZA-1 and ZA-3 25 minutes to get out of the lower level and get past the maze to get out of the building. Once ZA-1 and ZA-2 were outside they met up with ZB-3 through ZB-6.

ZB-4: holy hell, you guys look like you've seen a ghost.

ZA-3 more like a demon from hell.

ZB-3: alright enough talking! Remember what the commander said, weapons up! We're retreating now so-

ZB-3 suddenly manifests a digital shield and uses it to protect ZA-1 from a dagger flying right towards him. ZB-4, ZB-5, and ZB-6 then manifest shields as well while ZA-1 and ZA-3 raise their pistols at the building. From the darkness another anomalous entity leaves the building and presents itself to the Z1: Video units. It appears to be a humanoid entity however it is wearing a cloak of white and red flesh all over its body and has a hood of flesh as well. However, the entity was wearing a mask seeming to be cybernetic in natures. The mask had horn like spikes with two on each of the sides of the mask and an unknown symbol engraved on the front of the mask. The entity then raised his arms from under his cloak and like the spider he had a metal exoskeleton but flesh and muscle underneath it all. Within the entity's hands steel swords manifested in his hands.

Entity: Rejoice, your blood will feed the new gods.

ZA-3: Yeah, no thanks pal!

ZA-3 and ZA-1 start firing and ZB-3 through ZB-6 get the safeties off their rifles and start firing as well. The Entity is seen to actually take damage as his cloak is pierced by the bullets and is bleeding. However, the Entity is unphased and even spins around causing its cloak to lift up as well. Video feed shows that the flesh cloak is somehow now able to deflect the bullets that hit the cloak at an angle. The Entity then abruptly stops and takes several more shots before manifesting a steel circular shield. After deflecting a few more bullets the Entity threw the shield, it bounced off of ZB-6's shield but also destabilized his shield making it disappear. The Entity then charges at ZB-6 despite still receiving heavy fire from the other units. ZB-6 then manifests a digital hammer and bashes the entity causing it to ram back into the building's wall.

Entity: Your power is impressive. You should join us.

ZB-3: All units! Reload and fire! Keep this thing down so we have nothing on our backs while we retreat!

All units do as ZB-3 commanded while the entity is still bleeding but gets up. The entity then opens is flesh cloak to show the cybernetic armor covering its flesh body. The Entity screeches, causing auditory pain on all units and even command through the radio. Though video feed is now unfocused it can still be seen that the mutant grasshopper entities start flying toward the Entity and under his cloak. From what can be gathered the Entity is using the mutant grasshoppers to fuse into a larger and stronger monster of insectoid design. From here video feed is cut out, However Audio feed shows that Eugene Sims left the command team ran toward the entity's location to assist the engaged units.

ZB-3: Ugh! Shit! What the hell?!

ZB-2: This son of a- wait, Commander?! What are you doing here?!

Eugene Sims: Saving you guys that's what! Now fall back! I'll handle this!

All units do as Eugene Sims commands, video feed returns but Eugene Sims has no camera and thus nothing can be seen. Through Audio however it can be interpreted that Eugene Sims activates his powers and attacks the entity. The battle seemingly lasts for about 6 minutes and ends with Eugene Sims being victorious. However more entities appear before Eugene Sims can finish off the original entity. 

SCP-ABX: I suggest you stop there; I'd rather you not kill one of my most loyal Ascended.

Through Audio alone it's unclear what happens at this moment despite the appearance SCP-ABX. Later Eugene Sims recounts that behind SCP-ABX there were the metal spider and another entity. The second entity was a fleshy hulking monster with steel plating exoskeleton. Eugene also explains that SCP-ABX's hand suddenly mutates and stretches out to grab the "Ascended" entity. SCP-ABX then somehow opens a portal behind him and orders the other entities to retreat with the injured entity. After wards the portal closes and SCP-ABX focuses back on Eugene Sims.

SCP-ABX: well now, you are certainly powerful. I really must ask; how did you obtain such power?

Eugene Sims: ... I lost one of the units I was responsible for today, that's more than what I'm comfortable with. The death stops here, either surrender or I will make you.

SCP-ABX starts to emit a large amount of energy to display his power, Eugene Sims then does the same to show he won't stand down. After a few seconds SCP-ABX then stops.

SCP-ABX: Alright! I give up! I surrender.

SCP-ABX then held out his hands as to show he was ready to be cuffed. Eugene Sims is silent at first but then manifests a large full body cuff to keep SCP-ABX restrained.

End Recording

SCP-ABX was later processed and contained at Site-AA with SCP-ABW apprehended from him. Of course, afterwards his full anomalous properties were revealed and was quickly moved to Site-AF. Afterwards an interview between SCP-ABX and Dr. tutela was conducted, the info gathered reviled the full extent of the GoI known as The Scriptures of Rotten Flesh and Cybernetic Bones. Due to the newfound knowledge of the GoI, they have been determined as a larger threat than hostile subgroups of COTBG and the entirety of the Sarkic Cults combined. 

Eugene Sims was commended for his devotion to his crew. The Foundation considered this operation a success on Zues-1: Video's part on showing that Eugene Sims was indeed a capable leader of Zues-1: Video and thus the training and anxiety medication provided to him does indeed work. By his request ZA-2 was given a proper funeral despite no body being found.

After the operation Foundation researchers and security entered the building to two days later to find any more remains of the Scriptures. Nothing was found as all assets and resources had already been taken away. However, later SCP-[data expunged] was discovered.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[decayhexerei]

i will now write infamous second son fanfiction to cope with life, thank you