Jean-Luc Emmanuel Dubois

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IN THE 1800s

— - —

In a room devoid of light or sound, a man sat at his desk and read. There was a time when the darkness would have impeded him — but that time had passed. Now, he found it comforting. Colors distracted him from his work.

He turned to the next page of the book — despite not needing to ‘see’ the words to read them. Old habits, he supposed. With each successive sentence, his calm gave way to cold, calculated purpose.

The door opened. A blade of light pierced the room, illuminating the man and his desk. It cut across his forearm and highlighted an old burn scar. He instinctively moved his hand out to cover it.

He looked up. A woman stood at the doorway, hesitating. It was only then that he realized his face was twisted with rage.

He forced himself to relax, acknowledged her with a nod, and motioned her in.

She took two steps forward and spoke: “You’ve studied?”

“Trying my best to” He closed the book, “When do we start?”

“Tomorrow.” She moved to approach, but stopped — as if a wind forced her back. “I’ll be there in a moment. I will be waiting for you.”

“And the Professor?”

The woman didn’t respond.

He sighed. “Babineaux?”

“We didn’t find him. If he was stabbed, he might be dead. We have to assume the worst.”

The man stood, his eyes fixed on the backs of his own knuckles. “I don’t understand how this could happen. I don’t understand who would do this. Who could do this. Do they even know what they did?” He looked up at her. “This is bad.”

Her expression did not change. “The rest of our college has been alerted. I just came here to make sure you knew.” She took another step forward; her hand fell to his desk. “Maybe… maybe if we just-”

“Whatever you were about to say, don’t.” His voice was flat; something trembled just under the surface. “Whoever they are, they got lucky.”

She frowned. He could see the weariness in her face. There was something she wanted to tell him; there was something she wanted to say. Instead, she just closed her eyes and nodded.

He reached for her hand upon the desk, taking it into his own. His palm was like worn, scraped leather. Hers was ice. “I know you’re tired. I know. God, I know. I’m…”

He forced himself to stop. He took a breath, turned her hand over, and traced the scars along her wrist and forearm. She looked so frail, now. “We can’t stop now. We can’t give up now.”

Her eyes were still closed. “I know.”

“Go, now. Go back to studying Martha. You know the way in. You’ll be safe there. I'm going to call up our friends and we’ll figure out what this is. I’ll call you when it’s clear.”

She squeezed his hand back. At last, her eyes opened. “What about you?”

He smiled. “I just need to figure some things out, and then I’ll come with you.”

He came around the desk and held her; she held him back. After a few moments of silence, she turned her head up to his. “I—”

The phone rang.

He grimaced. His grip on her loosened. “I’m sorry. I…”

Her expression hardened. She released him, nodding. “I know.” Without another word, she turned and left him alone.

The man in the room stood up from his desk and walked to the window, gazing out into the dark, empty street below. His thoughts were racing. Who would do this? Why Babineaux? He couldn't shake the feeling that something bigger was at play, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

The ringing phone snapped him out of his thoughts. He walked back to the desk.

He reached for the phone.

"Jean, it's me, Martin," the voice on the other end said.

Jean-Luc Dubois leaned back against the desk, letting out a sigh of relief. "Martin, it's good to hear your voice."

"I heard what happened. Are you okay?"

Jean hesitated before answering. "I'm fine, but Babineaux is missing, and it's not looking good."

"Mon Dieu," Martin breathed. "What do you need from me?"

Jean took a deep breath. "I need you to gather the others. We need to figure out who did this and why. I have a feeling that this isn't just some random act of violence."

"Understood. I'll get the word out and gather the team. We'll meet you at the college as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Martin. I'll see you soon."

Jean hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair.

Jean-Luc Dubois got up from his chair, book in hand, and headed towards the door. The room behind him remained dark, the only source of light coming from the open door. As he exited the room, the light illuminated his tall figure, briefly blinding him as he covered his eyes. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh air, and began to walk down a white corridor.

The walls were lined with posters and artwork, but he paid them no mind. His thoughts were consumed by what Martin had just told him. The attack on their colleague was not something to be taken lightly, and Jean knew he needed to take action.

He quickened his pace, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. His mind raced with plans and possibilities, but he needed more information before he could make any decisions.

As he turned a corner, he saw a group of students huddled together, talking in hushed tones. They looked up as he approached, their eyes widening in recognition.

“Jean!” one of them called out. “Have you heard about Professor Babineaux?”

“Yes,” Jean replied, his voice cold and distant. “I have.”

The group fell silent, and Jean continued on his way. He had no time for idle chatter, not when the safety of their college was at stake.

He finally reached the end of the corridor, where a staircase led down to the main floor. He descended the steps, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of trouble. But everything seemed normal, and he felt a small sense of relief.

As he made his way through the crowded halls, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Martin standing behind him.

“Jean, I’ve been looking for you,” Martin said, his voice urgent.

“I just got your message. What’s going on?”

“I’ve been doing some digging,” Martin said, his eyes darting around the hallway. “I think I might know who’s behind the attack.”

Jean’s heart raced with excitement and fear. “Who?”

“I don’t have all the details yet, but I think it’s a group of radicals. They’ve been causing trouble all over Paris.”

Jean’s mind whirled with possibilities. He knew that he had to act fast, before it was too late.

“Meet me in the library,” Jean said, his voice determined. “We need to make a plan.”

Martin nodded, and they both hurried off in different directions. Jean could feel the weight of the book in his hand, a symbol of the knowledge he needed to defend their college.

Jean walked briskly towards the library, his mind racing with thoughts of how to stop the radicals from attacking their college. As he walked, he passed several students who were chatting and laughing. They seemed oblivious to the danger that was lurking just outside the walls of their college.

Finally, Jean arrived at the library and found Martin waiting for him. Martin had a worried look on his face.

“I’ve been trying to gather more information about this group,” Martin said as Jean approached him. “But it’s been difficult. They’re very secretive.”

Jean nodded. “We can’t wait for more information. We have to act now.”

Martin hesitated for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “What’s your plan?”

Jean thought for a moment, then spoke firmly. “We need to gather all the able-bodied students and faculty we can find and organize a defense. We’ll barricade the doors and windows, and be ready to fight if they come.”

Martin looked uncertain. “Do you really think we can win against them?”

“We have to try,” Jean replied resolutely. “Our college, our education, and our lives are at stake.”

With that, the two friends began to gather anyone they could find who was willing to defend their college. They knew that they might be outnumbered and outgunned, but they were determined to fight for what they believed in.

Jean and Martin sat at a small table in the library, surrounded by towering bookshelves. Jean had a notebook in front of him, and Martin had a map spread out.

“We need to identify their targets,” Jean said, tapping his pen on the notebook. “They’ve attacked our college, but they’re likely to have other targets as well.”

Martin nodded. “I’ve been looking at their pattern of attacks, and it seems like they’re going after places with a lot of historical significance. Museums, landmarks, that sort of thing.”

Jean furrowed his brow. “That’s going to make it difficult. Paris is full of historical landmarks.”

“We need to narrow it down,” Martin said. “We could try to track their movements, see if there’s a specific area they’re targeting.”

Jean nodded. “That’s a good idea. But we also need to think about how to defend our college.”

“We could try to fortify the building,” Martin suggested. “Board up the windows, reinforce the doors.”

Jean shook his head. “That’s not enough. We need to be proactive. We need to catch them before they can attack.”

Martin leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. “Maybe we could set a trap. Lure them into a false sense of security and then strike.”

Jean nodded slowly. “That could work. But how do we do it?”

They both sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Then Jean’s eyes lit up. “I’ve got an idea.”

He leaned in close to Martin, and whispered his plan. Martin’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he nodded slowly.

“It’s risky,” he said. “But it just might work.”

As they walked towards the college gates, Jean and Martin heard the distant sound of marching footsteps. They quickened their pace, the weight of the books in their bags seeming to increase with every step.

When they reached the gates, they saw a group of angry-looking men approaching. Jean recognized them as the same group he had seen earlier, gathered outside the café. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest.

The men stopped in front of Jean and Martin, their leader stepping forward. "We warned you not to interfere," he said, his voice cold and menacing.

Jean stood his ground, his jaw clenched. "We won't let you destroy our college," he said, his voice steady.

The leader of the group sneered. "You think your books and your knowledge can protect you? You're nothing but weaklings."

But Jean was not deterred. He knew that he had to stand up to these bullies, even if it meant putting himself in danger.

Suddenly, a loud horn blared in the distance, and the men turned to look. In that moment, Jean and Martin seized their opportunity and ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction.

Breathless, they eventually found themselves in a small alleyway, where they collapsed against the wall, panting and sweating.

"That was close," Martin said, his eyes wide with fear.

Jean nodded, his mind racing with the close call. But he knew that they couldn't stop now. They had to keep fighting for what they believed in, no matter what the cost.

As the sun began to set over Paris, Jean and Martin made their way back to their respective homes. Jean's mind was still buzzing with the excitement of their successful mission. He felt a sense of pride and satisfaction knowing that they had protected their college from the dangerous radicals.

As they walked through the quiet streets, Martin turned to Jean. "We make a good team, you know."

Jean nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "We do. We have to stay vigilant, though. Who knows when they'll strike again?"

Martin's expression turned serious. "I know. But we'll be ready for them."

With a final nod of agreement, they parted ways. Jean made his way up the stairs to his small apartment, feeling exhausted but also exhilarated. He couldn't wait to see what adventures lay ahead for him and Martin, two friends united in their determination to protect their beloved Paris.

— - —

Jean slowly opened his eyes, the bright rays of sunlight penetrating through the curtains and into his small apartment room. He felt the stiffness in his muscles dissipating. As he sat up on the bed, the only sound present was the distant hum of oxygen outside.

Suddenly, a loud doorbell rang, the sound filling the room and jolting Jean out of his drowsiness. He sat still for a moment, wondering who could be visiting him so early in the morning. The doorbell continued to ring, persistently, and Jean got up from the bed, still groggy, and made his way to the front door.

As he approached the door, the bell rang again, and he could feel his annoyance growing. He opened the door, expecting to see a neighbor, but instead, he found no one. The street outside was empty, and the only sound present was the distant chirping of birds.

Confused, Jean closed the door and went back to his room. As he lay down on the bed, the doorbell rang again. This time, he got up quickly and rushed to the door, opening it with irritation.

On the fifth ring, he opened the door, and to his surprise, there was a small package on the doorstep. Jean picked it up and examined it carefully, wondering who could have left it there. He couldn't find any markings or labels on the package, but he noticed a small note attached to it.

With a sense of trepidation, Jean opened the note, and his eyes widened as he read its contents. The note contained a cryptic message, written in a language he couldn't understand.

Jean stared at the note for a moment, trying to decipher its meaning. Finally, the words "MEET ME AT THE CAFETERIA - MARTIN" became clear. He felt a sense of apprehension mixed with excitement as he realized he was about to embark on a new adventure.

Exiting his small apartment room, Jean made his way down the dimly lit hallway and towards the door. With each step, his heart raced faster, and he could feel a cold sweat forming on his palms.

As he stepped out into the city of Paris in the late 1800s, he took a deep breath of the cool night air. The streets were deserted, and the only sound was the distant hum of horse-drawn carriages.

Making his way towards the college gates, Jean's mind was filled with questions. As he pushed open the gates and entered the courtyard, he saw Martin waiting for him.

"You've seen?" Martin asked, his eyes filled with excitement.

Jean nodded, unsure of what to expect next.

Martin and Jean stepped through the grand doors of the college, the bright lights causing Jean to squint. He noticed Martin's attention was fixed on a figure in the distance. "Hey, it's Maximillian!" Martin exclaimed.

Jean looked over at Maximillian, not recognizing the name. "Who?" he asked.

Martin turned back to Jean, looking surprised. "Jean, he's my childhood friend. I thought I told you about him before."

Jean felt a pang of guilt for forgetting. "Ah, yes. I must have forgotten. I'm sorry, friend." he apologized.

Martin nodded, and the three of them continued towards the cafeteria as planned. Jean scanned the area for an empty table and finally spotted one in the far left corner. They took their seats, and Martin began to speak. "Do you remember our conversation yesterday?" he asked, turning towards Jean.

Jean nodded in response. "Yes, a group of radicals have been causing chaos all over Paris, even attacking our college. It's possible that they killed Professor Babineaux. You suggested we set a trap and lure them into a false sense of security before striking."

Martin nodded in agreement. Maximillian listened intently, his expression serious.

As Jean and Martin continued to discuss their plans, they noticed Maximillian getting up from his chair, a look of fury on his face. Without warning, he closed his fist and aimed it straight at Martin's face. Jean watched in shock as Martin fell to the ground with a loud crack.

Before Jean could even react, Maximillian brought his fist down on Jean's face. Everything went black.

When Jean woke up, he found himself in a dimly lit room. The darkness around him was suffocating, and he could barely see a few feet in front of him. He frantically searched the room for Maximillian, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead, he saw Martin, sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. Blood was oozing from his nose and mouth, and his face was covered in bruises. Jean called out to him, but there was no response.

Jean struggled to make a sound, but his throat felt dry and scratchy. He tried to move his arms and legs, but they felt heavy and unresponsive. Panic began to set in as he realized he was tied to a chair.

In the darkness, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The door creaked open and a sliver of light pierced the darkness. Jean squinted as Maximillian entered the room, his face contorted in a sinister smile.

"Well, well, well. Look who's finally awake," Maximillian sneered. "Did you enjoy your nap?"

Jean glared at Maximillian, but said nothing. He knew he was in a dangerous situation and needed to bide his time.

Maximillian walked over to Martin and roughly shook him. "Wake up, my friend. We have some work to do," he said, his voice cold and menacing.

Jean watched as Martin slowly stirred, groaning in pain. He couldn't believe what had happened. How could Maximillian, Martin's childhood friend, do this to him?

Maximillian turned back to Jean, his eyes narrowed. "You and Martin were getting too close to the truth," he said. "I couldn't let that happen."

Jean's heart sank as he realized the gravity of the situation. Maximillian was not just a criminal, he was a ruthless killer. He had to find a way to escape before it was too late.

Maximillian took a deep breath and began to explain his story to Jean. He told Jean that he was originally from the United States and had come to Paris with his parents to pursue his college dreams. However, things did not go as planned, and he fell into a deep depression.

One day, he stumbled upon a group of radicals who promised him a purpose and belonging. He quickly became involved with them, and before he knew it, he was a fully-fledged member of the group.

Jean listens in horror as Maximillian reveals his dark past. He watches as Maximillian paces back and forth in front of him, a manic look in his eyes.

Maximillian then confesses to being the one who killed Professor Babineaux, luring him to an alleyway outside the college and stabbing him repeatedly until his body went limp. Jean feels sick to his stomach, the weight of the situation crushing down on him.

"Why are you telling me this?" Jean finally manages to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

Maximillian stops pacing and turns to face Jean. "Because you're going to help me," he says with a sneer. "You're going to help me take down the rest of the college and anyone who stands in our way."

Jean shakes his head, feeling a spark of anger ignite within him. "I'll never help you," he spits out.

Maximillian's face darkens. "You don't have a choice," he growls. "If you don't help me, I'll make sure that you and Martin both suffer the same fate as Professor Babineaux."

Jean's heart races as he realizes the gravity of the situation. He has to find a way out of this, a way to save himself and Martin. But how?

He had to find a way out of this room and get help. He noticed a mangrove door standing at the far end corner, right where Martin's limp body was. "Who's behind that door?" Jean asked, pointing towards the door.

Maximillian followed Jean's gaze. "That's none of your concern," he snapped. "Just focus on what I'm telling you."

But Jean couldn't shake the feeling that the door held the key to his escape. "Please, I need to know who's behind that door," he pleaded.

Maximillian hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Fine. It's one of my fellow radicals. He has some important news to share with me."

As they were talking, the door suddenly creaked open, and the light from outside blinded Jean for a moment as it had so many times before. And as he had so many times before, he squinted his eyes to protect them from the brightness.

A tall figure loomed over the room, "Max, are you done yet?" the figure called out.

"Not yet," Maximillian replied.

"I don't care, you have to come and see this," the figure said urgently.

Maximillian visibly enraged, walked towards the door, and Jean saw his chance. He sprang up from the chair and ran towards the open door. But before he could reach it, Maximillian turned around and lunged towards him.

Jean quickly dodged Maximillian's attack and backed away towards the other side of the room. "You won't get away with this," Jean said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the fear he felt.

Maximillian laughed, "Oh, but I already have," he replied with a sneer.

Jean looked around the room, searching for something to defend himself with. He spotted a broken chair leg on the ground and grabbed it. "Stay back!" he warned Maximillian, brandishing the makeshift weapon.

Maximillian continued to advance towards Jean, his eyes wild with anger. "You don't understand," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I did what I had to do. The professor was getting in the way of our plans."

Jean shook his head in disbelief. "That doesn't justify murder," he said firmly.

Maximillian lunged towards Jean again, and this time, Jean swung the chair leg with all his might. It made contact with Maximillian's head, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, Jean looked down at Maximillian's motionless form. He knew he had to act fast before the other members of the radical group returned.

A sweet glimmer of euphoria enveloped him as he looked down on Max's limp body.

Jean stumbled towards Martin's body, his legs heavy with exhaustion. He knelt down beside him and felt for a pulse, but there was nothing. Martin's face was a mess of bruises and blood, barely recognizable. Tears streamed down Jean's face as he realized that Martin was gone.

"Jean," Martin croaked out, barely audible. "Run."

Jean shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "No, Martin. I can't leave you here like this."

But Martin's body went limp against his bruises, his eyes staring lifelessly into the distance. Jean knew there was nothing he could do.

A tear rolled down Jean's cheek as he watched Martin take his last breath. He closed Martin's eyes and sat there for a moment, silently grieving.

Martin Toussaint was dead.

Eventually, Jean knew he had to move. He slowly got up, his legs feeling weak beneath him, and walked towards the door. He didn't know what awaited him on the other side, but he had to take the chance.

As he pushed open the door, the blinding light once again seared his eyes. He shielded his face with his hand and stepped forward cautiously.

As Jean stumbled out of the dark room, he was blinded by the sudden brightness of the hallway. He shielded his eyes and took a moment to adjust to the light. Looking around, he saw a small group of armed guards with a peculiar symbol on their left shoulder - a gray circle with three arrows.

One of the guards stepped forward and asked, "You're alone?"

Jean nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. "Who are you?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"We are the SCP Foundation," the guard replied. "Come with us. You're safe now. The radicals have been neutralized."

Jean felt a wave of relief wash over him as he realized he was finally safe. He nodded to the man and followed the guards out of the building. As they walked, the man introduced himself as Dr. Williams and explained that the SCP Foundation was a secret organization dedicated to containing and studying anomalous entities and phenomena.

Jean was skeptical at first, but Dr. Williams showed him credentials and explained that they had been monitoring the situation with the radicals for some time. They had been waiting for the right moment to intervene and neutralize the threat.

As they made their way out of the building, Jean couldn't help but think about Martin and what had happened to him. He knew he couldn't just leave him there. "Wait, what about Martin? He's still in there," Jean said, turning to Dr. Williams.

Dr. Williams paused for a moment and then nodded. "I understand. We'll send a team in to recover his body. I'm sorry for your loss."

Jean felt a lump form in his throat as they walked towards the waiting vehicles. He knew Martin had been the only one who truly understood him and now he was gone. But at least he was finally safe, and for that, Jean was grateful.

— - —

Decades had gone by since Jean's encounter with the SCP Foundation. Now, he had risen through the ranks and was a senior researcher, having made significant contributions to the study and containment of various anomalies.

One day in February 1922, the Overseers proposed a new project called "Twins of God," with O5-1 as the lead figure and Omega-5 as the research team. Jean was given the project details to review.

The file outlined the project's goal to use information from recent tests of Item-███ and Item-███ to alter the quantum makeup of objects over large distances, rendering them functionally non-existent. They aimed to transfer this effect to a human subject through the use of Item-███, resulting in greater control over the effect. The project required the removal of 3 Items from Foundation records, and their containment solely at the primary testing facility, disguised as a military waste disposal site in Northern Mexico.

The file warned of the project's potentially volatile nature, and fail-safes were put in place in case of a catastrophic containment breach. The success of the project would result in the creation of a new entity, referred to as Item-001, under the control of the Foundation Administrator. The entity would be used against the anomalous organization known as GOI-003, "Kingdom of Abaddon," with mind-kill agents placed within the Item and accessible only by the Administrator as a fail-safe.

Jean was shocked by what he read. He had never heard of the Kingdom of Abaddon before and was left with many unanswered questions.

Jean delved deeper into the project's files and discovered even more unsettling information. The Fail-Safe Containment Procedures were particularly alarming, outlining the steps to be taken in the event of a catastrophic breach of containment

Procedures Alpha, Beta, Delta and Epsilon.

Jean couldn't believe what he was reading. He was deeply disturbed by the severity of the procedures, and couldn't fathom why the project was approved by The Administrator and O5-1, whose signatures were at the bottom of the file.

Jean couldn't shake off the unease he felt about the project. It seemed like a dangerous experiment that could go horribly wrong. He decided to investigate further, digging through more files and talking to colleagues he trusted within the Foundation. He discovered that the Kingdom of Abaddon was a rival anomalous organization that had been causing trouble for the Foundation for years. The Twins of God project was an attempt to create a powerful weapon to use against them.

After the project was put into place, the results were disturbing to Jean. The Foundation had strapped nine children onto a machine in San Marco, Mexico, which had granted them the ability to delete targets at any range when near each other. O5-1, Aaron Siegel, was the project lead and the First Overseer.

Jean stumbled across another file that revealed the purpose of the project: to create a weapon against the Kingdom of Abaddon, a group of hostile reality benders at war with the Foundation. Siegel had experimented on the children with the "Harkin's Gateway" and "Multiple Injections" anomaly after it had killed every adult it empowered.

The file finally answered Jean's question on Abaddon.

Several years passed, and the Administrator became concerned about Siegel's health. The Administrator attempted to reassign him as Site-19 director after Abaddon was defeated. However, when the Administrator arrived to see the children used, Siegel killed him and the entirety of Abaddon with the anomaly before defecting with a group of other personnel.

Jean was shocked by the news. Siegel had killed the Administrator and the very organization he had dedicated his life to.

Jean was devastated by the news of Aaron Siegel's defection and the formation of the Chaos Insurgency. He couldn't believe that a respected researcher within the Foundation would do such a thing. But as he continued to investigate, he discovered more about the corrupt inner workings of the Foundation.

He found evidence of unethical experiments, cover-ups, and other questionable actions carried out in the name of containing anomalies. The more he learned, the more he became convinced that the Foundation was not the organization he thought it was.

After much contemplation, Jean made the decision to defect from the Foundation and join Aaron Siegel and the Chaos Insurgency. He believed that they were fighting for a just cause, to expose the truth and bring down the corrupt hierarchy of the Foundation.

Jean quickly rose through the ranks of the Insurgency, using his extensive knowledge of anomalous phenomena to aid in their efforts. He helped to carry out several successful operations against the Foundation, acquiring valuable information and resources for the Insurgency.

— - —

Jean was standing in front of Delta Command, the leading faces of the Chaos Insurgency. Delta Command had been formed by the Engineer, Aaron Siegel, to bring together the seven squabbling branches of what had once been called “The Insurgency”. The name was a joke, of course. According to legend, the Engineer had nearly given up trying to coordinate the bickering factions by saying “never in history has a more chaotic insurgency been mishandled into existence.” The name stuck, though Delta thought that “Chaotic Insurgency” wasn’t nearly distinguished enough.

Thus, the Chaos Insurgency.

Jean was about to embark on a mission that required approval from Delta Command. He knew the members of Delta Command well, but he didn't know that he was about to meet them in person. Coincidentally, it was Howard Kowalski, a mid-level bureaucrat who had previously been a junior congressman for the state of New Jersey, who spoke first.

“Good afternoon, Jean,” the portly man said, balancing a pair of thin glasses on the end of his pointed snout. “We appreciate you making the trip out here. As you know, we’re in the middle of renovations to Delta Command Headquarters-”

Jean knew full well that the former command center, the one built by the Engineer himself, had been leveled by the Global Occult Coalition nearly three decades prior, though Delta refused to acknowledge this.

“-so this will have to do, I think. Yes.” Kowalski nodded and tapped a stack of papers against the desk. “I guess what we’re most curious about here, Jean, is this document we hear you’ve recovered.” He leaned forward, peering over the stack of papers. “The file. Do you have it?”

Jean nodded. “If you allow me a moment of your time, I promise we’ll talk about the file.”

One of the other members of Delta, a tall, long-haired woman named Norris, made a sound in the back of her throat. “Don’t test our patience, boy. It’s bad enough that we had to suffer the journey out here, but I swear to god if we did it so you could bullshit around with some fake archive, I’ll have your job.”

Kowalski laughed nervously as Jean raised an eyebrow at the outburst. “Now now, Priscilla,” Kowalski said cautiously, “let’s just hear what he has to say. Jean has really done a lot for our organization, I think we can all agree-” grudging nods were had all around, “-and I think he deserves the benefit of the doubt, here.” He motioned for Jean to continue.

Sylvester Sloan, the oldest member of Delta, cackled. “Our value comes in inhibiting the Foundation’s efforts. What it sounds like you’re about to say is that you intend to interrupt them entirely.”

Jean leaned back slightly. “More than that. I intend to uproot the Foundation, leaf and stem.”

A thick silence fell over the group, as if someone had just thrown a rotten egg into an elevator. Herman Van Gandry, another one of Delta’s veterans, was the first to laugh. The rest followed in quick succession.

Kowalski tried to keep a straight face, but even he was rubbing his eyes before too long. “Jean, look, I know you mean well, and you know you’ve got a lot of respect from all of us, but come on. That’s a fool’s errand.”

Jean took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "I appreciate your skepticism, but I assure you, my intentions are serious. My mission is to set sail from Australia to Bangladesh in hopes of leading the Foundation Overseers to surrender. We have gathered enough intelligence to know that they have been weakened, and we have a chance to strike."

The room fell silent, and Jean could feel the weight of their stares on him.

Priscilla was the first to speak. "And what makes you think we can succeed where so many others have failed?"

Jean looked at her squarely. "Because we have something that they don't. We have each other, and we have the conviction to see this through to the end."

Sloan let out a deep belly laugh. "Conviction? That won't get us very far, my boy. We need more than that to take down the Foundation."

Jean nodded. "I understand that. But we also have a plan, and we have the resources to see it through. We just need your approval and your support."

There was a long pause before Kowalski spoke up. "Jean, I appreciate your passion, but this is a risky endeavor. We could be putting ourselves and our entire organization in danger."

Jean held his ground. "I understand the risks. But we cannot continue to live in fear of the Foundation. We have to take the fight to them, and we have to do it now."

Herman spoke up next. "And what happens if we fail? What happens if we're captured or killed?"

Jean looked around the room. "Then we die as martyrs for the cause. But if we succeed, we could change the course of history."

The room fell silent again, and Jean could feel the weight of their decision hanging in the air.

Finally, Kowalski spoke. "Alright, Jean. We'll give you our approval and our support. But know that this is a dangerous mission, and the outcome is far from certain."

Jean nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. "Thank you, Delta. I won't let you down."

Kowalski turned back to Jean.

"What do you need?"

Jean had carefully selected a team of eight individuals to assist him in his mission. Each team member had been assigned a specific task to coordinate and execute the plan. As he looked over his team, he noticed a tall African man in his mid-forties who seemed to stand out from the rest.

"Jean," the man asked, his voice deep and measured, "How do you expect this to work out?"

Jean took a deep breath and looked at each member of his team before responding. "We have a tough road ahead of us," he said, his eyes resting on the African man. "But I believe that we have what it takes to succeed."

The man nodded slowly. "And what about the Foundation? Do you think they'll surrender without a fight?"

Jean's expression hardened. "I have no illusions about the Foundation's willingness to give up their power. But we have an advantage that they don't have. We have something to fight for. We have a cause that we believe in. And that will give us the strength to see this through to the end."

The African man nodded again, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I'm with you, Jean. Let's do this."

With those words, Jean knew that he had the support of his team. They were all in this together, and they were willing to do whatever it took to achieve their goal.

Together, they set out to finalize their plans and prepare for their journey from Australia to Bangladesh. They knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but they were ready to face whatever challenges came their way. They were the Chaos Insurgency, and they were ready to uproot the Foundation, leaf and stem.

As they made their way towards the ship, Jean could feel the weight of the mission on his shoulders. He had carefully selected eight individuals to help him succeed, each one with a specific task to ensure the success of the mission.

Their journey was treacherous, as the ship battled against the fierce waves of the southern Indian Ocean. The jagged rocks and violent waters threatened to sink the ship, but Ulysses, a former engineer in the Foundation, quickly repaired the damage and stabilized the ship.

Once they were back on course, Jean called for a meeting in the ship's inner rooms to discuss the plan in more detail. The team was determined to see the mission through to the end, no matter the cost.

As they sailed through the Bengal Sea, the tension on the ship was palpable. Everyone knew the risks involved, but they were committed to the cause. They discussed the final details of the plan, making sure everything was in order.

As the ship finally reached the calm waters of the Bengal Sea, Jean called for his team to gather at the wheelhouse to discuss their plans. The tall African male, whose name was Malik, seemed restless and uneasy.

"Jean, I'm not sure about this plan," Malik spoke up. "We're taking a huge risk here. What if something goes wrong?"

Jean looked at Malik with a stern expression. "We've been over this before, Malik. We can't just sit back and watch the Overseers do as they please. We have to take action, and this is the best plan we've got."

The team began to discuss their roles in the mission. Ulysses would oversee the technical aspects, while Harrison would coordinate the logistics. John would lead the ground team, and Malik would be in charge of communications.

As they were deep in discussion, they heard the sound of metal creaking and groaning. Suddenly, a loud bang echoed from below deck, followed by the sound of rushing water.

"We're taking on water!" Ulysses shouted. "We need to abandon ship!"

The team quickly grabbed their gear and rushed to the lifeboats, but they soon realized that there were only five seats available for the nine of them. Jean stood on the sinking ship, his boots filling with water, while Malik shook and clung onto the ship's rails. The other members of the team looked on in horror as the ship sank faster and faster. One of them raised his hand and placed it on his forehead, forming a salute, tears streaming down his face.

Harrison, cried out in Latin, "Death, take us!"

Jean could only watch as the ship finally sank, taking him, Malik, Harrison, and Alexander with it. The water was clear enough to see the ship as it was pulled down to the bottom of the sea.

John, looked on incredulously.

The water where the ship had been oozed a strange gray liquid before dissipating and returning to its original color. Meanwhile, a nearby fisherman watched the scene and quickly ran away in terror.

The remaining members of the team were devastated by the loss of their comrades. They rowed for hours until they finally reached the coast of Bangladesh.

As they landed on the shore, they were immediately surrounded by armed guards. The guards ordered them to drop their weapons and surrender.

One of the team members, a former Foundation agent named Sofia, stepped forward and tried to explain their mission. But the guards didn't listen, and they were taken into custody.

They were interrogated and held in a dark, damp cell. They were given little food and water, the guards however, stayed fed, and their hopes of escape were fading fast.

But then, one day, the cell door creaked open. In the doorway stood a tall, imposing figure, dressed in a flowing robe. It was none other than one of the Foundation's Overseers.

The Overseer explained that they had been monitoring Jean's plan from the beginning, and that they had allowed the team to proceed in order to gather intelligence. The Overseer offered them a chance to work for the Foundation, and to help make the world a safer place.

The team members were stunned by the offer, but they knew they had no other choice. They agreed to work for the Foundation, and were soon sent on their first mission.

As they boarded a plane to an undisclosed location, they couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for them. But they knew one thing for certain: they would never forget the sacrifice of their fallen comrades, and they would do everything in their power to honor their memory.

Meanwhile, the fisherman stumbled into the news station, panting and shaking violently. The reporters looked at him with concern.

"What happened?" One of them asked.

"Anantashesha," the fisherman stuttered. "It took the ship down to the bottom of the sea."

The reporters exchanged confused glances. "What's Anantashesha?" another reporter asked.

"It's a giant serpent, that's what it is!" the fisherman exclaimed.

The reporters were stunned. "Are you sure?" one of them asked.

The fisherman nodded frantically. "I saw it with my own eyes! It was dragging the ship down into the depths of the ocean!"

The news spread quickly throughout Bangladesh. The Foundation was immediately alerted, and agents were dispatched to investigate the incident.

As they arrived at the scene, one of the agents approached the fisherman. "Can you tell us more about this Anantashesha?" she asked.

The fisherman took a deep breath. "It's a serpent that lives in the depths of the ocean. It's said to be so big that it can swallow entire ships whole."

The agent raised an eyebrow. "And you're sure that's what you saw?"

The fisherman nodded. "I know what I saw. It was Anantashesha, I'm sure of it."

The Foundation dispatched additional agents to investigate the scene and monitor the area. They quickly apprehended the fisherman and sent him to a therapist to ensure he received proper care.

As they surveyed the area, they discovered that the sunken ship belonged to the Insurgency, a notorious group known for their attempts to undermine the Foundation's efforts. The team also found a strange residue left behind in the water that had since dissipated, but they were unable to identify its origin.

Months passed, and the Foundation continued to investigate the incident. Finally, a metal detector indicated the presence of an unusual object at the bottom of the Bengal Sea, precisely where the fisherman had told them.

Meanwhile, Jean had miraculously survived but had spent months underwater, slowly losing his memory as he drifted through the dark and empty waters of the Bengal Sea. His fellow Insurgency members, including Malik, had not been as fortunate, succumbing to the water that filled their lungs.

As the Foundation retrieved the sunken ship, they discovered that it had rusted and turned an unusual blue color, unlike the Insurgency's typical black boats. Inside, they found a disheveled Frenchman in his late thirties who appeared to be Jean, but he was different, having lost most of his memory while underwater.

"Who are you? What happened to you?" one of the Foundation agents asked Jean as they helped him out of the ship.

Jean looked around, confused and disoriented. "I don't… I don't remember. Where am I?" he replied weakly.

The Foundation agents quickly transported Jean to a nearby facility for medical attention and debriefing.

As the Foundation continued their investigation, they discovered that the fisherman's constant repetition of "Anantashesha" referred to an aquatic entity that they dubbed SCP-3000. Strangely enough, during an interview with O5-1, Jean also repeatedly muttered the name.

Further exploration led to the discovery of a strange gray liquid, which they called Y-909. The substance was linked to SCP-3000 and possessed unique amnestic properties.

The Foundation synthesized a new drug using Y-909, a powerful amnestic that could erase memories with just a simple injection.

During Jean's recovery, it was revealed that the First Overseer, previously believed to be deceased, was actually Aaron Siegel, the former Foundation researcher who defected and formed the Chaos Insurgency. Now occupying a position at Overwatch Command, he held immense power as part of the O5 Council.

Despite efforts to recover his memories, Jean's amnesia proved too severe. The Foundation was left to wonder what other secrets may have been lost with the former Insurgent's memories.

Following the discovery of Jean on the Insurgency's ship, the Foundation uncovered three skeletons on board, one of whom was identified as Malik, a mid-forties African male, while the other two remained unknown.

The Foundation contacted a mysterious organization to help care for Jean as he recovered, but upon their arrival, Jean couldn't help but feel uneasy as he watched a long black car pull over. Out stepped an old man in a dark blue outfit, accompanied by bodyguards, and a woman in a white turtleneck with short hair.

Jean couldn't quite make out the symbol on the car, but it soon became clear to him - a snake consuming its tail with a spinning gear in the center. The words above it read "The 909 Council."

The First Overseer, Aaron Siegel, greeted the old man as he shook his hand. "Welcome, 909-15. I really appreciate your help," Aaron said with a smile. The old man returned the gesture. "Likewise, O5-1."

As they made their way over to Jean, 909-15 greeted him with a thick Russian accent. "Jean, I've heard."

Jean's anxiety continued to rise as 909-15 introduced himself and the woman, 909-14, to him. "My name is Ivan, the Founder of the 909 Council," he said as he shook Jean's hand. 909-14 followed closely behind him, and 909-14 introduced her as 909-14, asking Jean to refer to her as Antonina.

Aaron couldn't help but feel a wave of guilt wash over him as he looked at the Insurgency's ship. He knew all too well the consequences of defying the Foundation, having defected and formed the Chaos Insurgency himself before returning to the Foundation. The cycle seemed to never end, especially with Vincent Arians' book about the Overseers.

Turning to Antonina, Aaron asked, "How's everything going so far?" She stared at him for a moment before responding in a thick Russian accent, "We're just getting to know him." Aaron nodded, his mind still haunted by the past.

Suddenly, a loud alarm sounded throughout the facility, and the agents rushed to their posts. Aaron looked at Ivan and Antonina, gesturing for them to flee immediately. "Something's wrong," he said, his voice laced with concern.

Aaron ordered Ivan and Antonina to leave immediately. They quickly rushed back to the car with Jean, and drove away. Jean looked out of the car window, but Ivan stopped him and spoke in a low tone, "We have to keep you safe. You possess knowledge that can be dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands."

The sound of the alarm continued to ring in Aaron's ears.

As they drove away, Aaron faced the dock and saw a helicopter with the symbol of a red circle pierced by three parallel arrows approached him. A loud voice came through the speakers, "Siegel, where's Jean?" Aaron recognized the voice of his former colleague and friend, Ismael.

"None of your business, traitors!" Aaron shouted back, feeling a mix of anger and guilt. He knew he had betrayed the Insurgency when he returned to the Foundation, but he never imagined that it would come back to haunt him like this.

"Traitors? You betrayed us first, Siegel! Do you remember Vince?" The voice sounded bitter and hurt.

Aaron paused, feeling a pang of sadness at the mention of his friend's name. "I remember," he replied, his voice heavy with regret.

The voice on the other end seemed to soften slightly. "We just want to talk to Jean. He's one of us, you know that."

Aaron hesitated for a moment, then gave the order to open fire. The soldiers below him aimed their weapons at the helicopter, and a rocket was launched. Scarlet filled the air as it struck the helicopter and both the aircraft and the rocket exploded into flames, falling into the ocean. A large part of the aircraft struck a nearby building.

As the wreckage and the building collapsed, Aaron quickly fled the scene. He knew that the Insurgency would not let this go easily, and that he would have to prepare for whatever came next.

He hoped that Jean would be safe in the hands of the 909 Council.

— - —

As Jean is inside the car, he overhears muffled screaming and an explosion, Ivan reassured him, "You'll be alright."

Jean nodded. Then, the interior was filled with silence.

After a while, Jean couldn't take the silence anymore and asked Ivan, "Who were those people in the helicopter? They seemed to know me."

Ivan turned to him with a serious expression, "Those were members of the Chaos Insurgency, the same organization you used to work for before you were discovered by the Foundation."

Jean felt a pang of guilt and confusion wash over him. "I used to work for them? What did I do?" he asked, looking at Ivan with wide eyes.

Ivan sighed heavily, "We don't know the details yet, but we believe you were involved in some dangerous and unethical operations. That's why the Foundation is keeping you under their protection now."

Jean leaned back into the car seat, feeling overwhelmed by everything he was learning. "I don't remember any of it. I feel like I'm missing a huge part of my life."

Ivan nodded understandingly, "That's why we're here to help you recover your memories, Jean. The 909 Council has resources and methods that can aid you in this process."

Jean looked at him gratefully, feeling a glimmer of hope. "Thank you, Ivan. I really appreciate it."

Ivan smiled kindly, "Of course, Jean. You're one of us now. We take care of our own."

As they drove off into the night, Jean couldn't help but wonder what other secrets and mysteries he would uncover about his past.

With that, Jean closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

As Jean slept, Antonina and Ivan continued their conversation in hushed tones. They knew they had a difficult task ahead of them, and they needed to be prepared for whatever might happen.

Antonina looked over at Jean, still sleeping peacefully in the back seat. "What do you think we should do when we arrive at our site?" she asked Ivan.

Ivan paused for a moment, deep in thought. "That's a good question," he replied. "For now, we have to focus on our mission. We have a bone to pick with the Insurgency, and who knows what other plans they have in store?"

Antonina nodded in agreement. "It's lucky that O5-1 called us to take Jean into our custody," she said. "First, we need to recover his memory. As someone who used to work with the Insurgency, he could be a valuable asset to us."

Ivan leaned in closer. "What do you think his new job should be?" he asked.

Antonina furrowed her brow, deep in thought. "He could be an agent, I suppose," she said tentatively.

Ivan shook his head. "That's unlikely. Just because he used to work as an agent doesn't mean he'll remember how to be one. Remember his memory loss?"

Antonina nodded again. "Right, I forgot about that."

Ivan thought for a moment before continuing. "It's possible he could be a Consulate," he said slowly. "It's worth a try."

Antonina nodded again, this time more decisively. "Jean was an agent of the Insurgency, right?" she asked.

Ivan nodded. "That's right. Aaron Siegel actually knew him well before he defected. After Jean's defection, Aaron went back to become O5-1 once again, leading to his betrayal."

Antonina was intrigued. "Do you have any more information about Jean?" she asked.

Ivan nodded again. "There are a few things I've been told," he said. "He went on a mission to sail from Australia to Bangladesh in hopes of convincing the Overseers to surrender and for the Foundation to fall. His ship sank, and he was dragged underwater by a gigantic aquatic entity. We now know it as SCP-3000."

Antonina's eyes widened in shock. "Is there more?" she asked.

Ivan continued. "His ship was pulled out months later when a fisherman reported seeing it being dragged onto the bottom of the Bay of Bengal. Jean was found alive despite being stranded there for months."

Antonina was amazed. "Alright. So, he's going to be a new Consulate, then?" she asked.

Ivan nodded. "That's the plan. But he'll need to understand first how to become one of us. I'm thinking he could be the Eleventh Consulate, 909-11. Sounds good?"

Antonina smiled. "Sounds perfect," she said. "Let's get to work."

The long black car finally pulled over after hours of driving. Jean awoke to the sound of the engine stopping, his head groggy from sleeping for so long. He quickly forced his head to get up and looked out the window. The sky was a vibrant blue, a stark contrast to the dark interior of the car. He looked over to see Ivan getting out of the driver seat, the door slamming into the car with a loud thud. Antonina reached for her right arm towards the handle, she slid it away from her and the door opened smoothly.

"Get up, Jean," she said, her voice calm but firm. "We're here."

Jean sat back up, rubbing his eyes as he tried to regain his bearings. He opened the door and stepped out, feeling the cold breeze of fresh air as it hit his face. The air was crisp and clean, a refreshing change from the stale air in the car. He turned to close the door, but before he could, the door slammed against the car with a loud thud. Antonina followed suit and closed her door.

"Follow me, Jean," Ivan said, his voice low and commanding.

Jean nodded and followed Ivan and Antonina through a pathway lined with trees. As they walked, he saw a group of men and women in orange jumpsuits being escorted out of a white vehicle by a group of armed guards. Similar to the ones he saw when he was found on a blue ship. The symbol on their right shoulder was the same symbol he saw on the car — A snake eating its tail forming a circle with a spinning gear in the center — he stared at them, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. One of the soldiers caught his gaze and stared back at him, sending a chill down his spine.

They made their way into a tall and large building with large pipes at the top, occasionally spewing out smoke. The text above the building read "Site-12D", and Jean couldn't help but wonder what kind of place this was. Ivan fiddled with his pocket for a moment, then pulled out a silver key. He inserted the key into the door's keyhole, and the door opened with a creak.

Ivan and Antonina entered first, disappearing into the darkness beyond the doorway. Jean hesitated for a moment before following them in. As he entered, he felt the weight of the door closing behind him, sealing him in this unfamiliar place. The darkness was oppressive, but he could see faint outlines of figures moving around the room.

"Welcome to Site-12D, Jean," Ivan said, his voice echoing through the room. "This is where we'll be staying for the time being."

Jean blinked rapidly as the lights of the Site flickered on and off, illuminating the faces of those around him before plunging them back into darkness. He strained to see through the gloom, only catching glimpses of the crowd of people around him. Suddenly, the lights blazed to life, the sudden brightness causing him to shield his eyes with his arm.

"Sorry about that," a man's voice said from the crowd. "We've been having some power issues lately."

The man speaking appeared to be in his late fifties, Slavic, with salt-and-pepper hair and a pair of glasses perched on his nose.

Jean nodded, still trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness, as he followed Ivan and Antonina down a dimly lit hallway. Unable to bear the silence any longer, he spoke up.

"Where are we exactly? And who are you guys?" he asked, his voice echoing softly off the walls.

Antonina spoke up, "We are members of the 909 Council, Jean. This is one of our newer sites, Site-12D, which we use to contain world-ending phenomena, prevent the spread of deadly contagions, and save countless lives."

Ivan added, "I am Ivan, 909-15, the Founder of the 909 Council. Antonina is 909-14, The Cananite. We are here to discuss the recent events that have transpired, and what your role will be in the future."

Jean was taken aback by their responses. "My role? What do you mean?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Ivan turned to face Jean and spoke in a serious tone. "Jean, The Foundation and us have been watching you for some time now. And you were deemed to be a valuable asset to our organization."

Antonina chimed in, "We need people like you, Jean. People who are willing to do whatever it takes to protect the world from the unknown and the dangerous."

Jean didn't know what to say. He was flattered by their words but also felt a sense of unease. "What exactly do you want me to do?" he asked cautiously.

Ivan looked at Jean and said, "We want you to join us, Jean. To become a member of the 909 Council and help us in our mission to protect humanity."

Jean was surprised by their offer. He had never considered himself to be a hero or someone capable of saving the world. But as he looked around at the site and the people who were working to contain the unknown, he realized that maybe he could make a difference.

"I'll do it," he said, his voice filled with determination.

Ivan and Antonina smiled at him. "Welcome to the 909 Council, Jean," Ivan said as they continued down the hallway towards their next destination.

Ivan turned to Jean and asked, "Do you remember anything besides being discovered by a Foundation soldier?"

Jean shook his head. "No, I can't recall anything else besides… Anantashesha. I don't remember being a part of The Chaos Insurgency. I heard you say I was a part of it?"

Ivan's expression turned grim. "Yes, you were. You went on a mission to Bangladesh in hopes of persuading the Overseers of the SCP Foundation to surrender. Your plan failed, and your boat sank to the bottom of the sea. Your memory loss was caused by SCP-3000."

Jean's eyes widened in disbelief. "What is the SCP Foundation?" he asked.

Antonina chimed in, "You were actually part of it since the late 1800s. They found you in a dark room and you became a senior researcher. But then you defected to the Insurgency. The SCP Foundation is responsible for containing anomalous entities, objects, and other assorted phenomena."

As Jean tried to process this information, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping up on him. His mind raced with questions, but before he could ask anything, Ivan interjected. "We don't have much time, Jean."

With a heavy heart, Jean followed Ivan and Antonina through the dimly lit corridors of the 909 Council site. As they walked, he couldn't help but wonder what his true purpose was and whether he would ever be able to uncover the truth about his past.

As they walked, Jean continuously murmured the name "O5-1" under his breath.

"The First Overseer?" Antonina asked, clearly surprised by Jean's knowledge.

Jean nodded. "Yeah, O5-1. Who's that?"

Ivan answered, "His name is Aaron Siegel. He's the one who made you defect from the Foundation years ago. He interviewed you when you were found and brought you to us."

Jean raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the mention of Siegel.

As they reached the end of the hallway, they were greeted by a middle-aged British-German woman in a green pantsuit. Jean could barely see her name badge, which read "O5-7 - Green."

"Hello, fellow Consulates!" she exclaimed, flashing a wide smile and blowing a flying kiss towards Jean. "So, is this who Mr. Siegel brought to you?" she asked, gesturing towards Jean.

Ivan nodded. "Yes, Ms. Green. He's the one."

"Wonderful!" O5-7 exclaimed, clearly excited. "I promise to teach him everything about the inner workings of the 909 Council, even though I'm not a part of your organization."

Ivan smiled and turned to Jean. "This is O5-7, a member of the O5 Council, the high-ranking individuals of the Foundation. She will teach you everything you need to know later, okay?"

Jean nodded in agreement, eager to learn more about his past and the mysterious organizations that surrounded him.

O5-7 motioned for Jean to follow her, and they walked out of the room together, leaving Ivan and Antonina behind.

— - —

Aaron Siegel flees the scene, muffled screams and the sound of the helicopter exploding filled the air. Despite the encounter with the Chaos Insurgency, he successfully delivers Jean to the custody of the 909 Council. As he hears a nearby building collapsing from the explosion, he reaches for a small device in his pocket and dials a number.

On the other end of the line, a crackling voice with a South American accent responds, "Mr. Siegel, what do you need?"

"O5-6, I just encountered the Insurgency while bringing Jean to the 909 Council. Is Valerie at Site-12D?" Aaron asks urgently.

"She sure is, sir," O5-6 replies promptly.

"Good. Have her teach Jean about the Council, even if she's an Overseer," Aaron instructs before gasping for breath. "Get me a helicopter. I'm at the Bangladesh site."

"Roger that, sir," O5-6 responds before ending the call.

Aaron can't help but feel a sense of guilt. He was once a researcher for the SCP Foundation, and he created the Children, which led to the demise of Frederick Williams. The machine he created to be used as a powerful weapon ultimately led to his defection and the creation of the Chaos Insurgency. Now, he sits as an Overseer within the Foundation.

His heart skips a beat as a helicopter arrives from the sky, and the pilot nods towards him. Aaron runs towards the helicopter as fast as a cheetah chasing a deer and climbs aboard. A tall man of Spanish ancestry greets him as he gets inside.

"You're safe, Mr. Siegel!" the man exclaims. Aaron thanks O5-6, who goes by the name Rufus King or "The American".

King nods before the helicopter begins to rise into the sky. Aaron peers out to see the wreckage of the destroyed helicopter before sitting down. As the helicopter flies away, he can't help but think of what he's done and the consequences of his actions.

Jean is led by O5-7, also known as "Green," to an elevator shaft. Jean takes a deep breath, and Green takes the lead, holding his hand and guiding him towards the elevator. She presses a button, and the doors slam shut as the shaft begins to descend. Jean can feel his heart racing with anticipation as he wonders what awaits him at the bottom.

Jean and Green descend deeper and deeper into the bowels of the underground facility. The elevator ride is long, but they finally come to a stop. The doors slide open to reveal a massive chamber, bustling with activity. Jean can see researchers and technicians scurrying around, their faces obscured by masks and protective goggles.

As they step out of the elevator, Jean turns to Green and asks, "What's the first thing I need to do?"

Green turns to him with a serious expression, "First, we need to recover your memory. You were found on an Insurgency boat, and you lost half of your memory there."

Jean nods, "I remember bits and pieces, but everything is hazy."

Green puts a hand on his shoulder, "Don't worry, we'll get it all back. But before that, let me show you around."

She leads him through the chamber, pointing out various areas of interest. They pass by a team of researchers huddled around a computer terminal, analyzing data from a recent containment breach. Jean can see the tension in their faces, and he knows firsthand how dangerous the anomalies can be.

As they continue down a long hallway, Jean can't help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the facility. "How many people work here?" he asks.

Green looks at him with a small smile, "That's classified information, but let's just say that there are a lot of us. We have operations all over the world."

Finally, they come to a door marked "Training Chamber". Green stops and turns to Jean. "This is where I will train you," she says. "I'm not a part of your organization, but I assure you that you'll be fine."

Jean nods, "I trust you."

As they enter the chamber, Jean sees a large open space with various obstacles and equipment scattered throughout. "What kind of training will I receive?" he asks.

Green grins, "The kind that will prepare you for anything. We'll start with physical training, and then move on to mental and emotional resilience. You'll need to be able to handle anything that comes your way."

Jean nods, determined to do whatever it takes to become an effective member of the 909 Council.

"Let's get started," he says.

Green leads Jean into the training chamber, a spacious room filled with various training equipment and weapons. Jean can feel a sense of excitement mixed with apprehension as he looks around the room.

Green walks over to a control panel and begins typing on it. "I'm going to start the training program now," she says. "We need to recover your memory and assess your skills."

Jean nods, feeling a sense of determination.

The program starts, Jean's skills are put to the test. He shows proficiency with various weapons and hand-to-hand combat techniques. Green is impressed by his natural abilities and quick reflexes.

After several hours of training, Green deactivates the program and turns to Jean. "You've done well," she says with a smile. "Your memory has been mostly restored, and your skills are impressive. But there's still more work to be done."

Jean nods, feeling grateful for the opportunity to make amends for his past mistakes. "I'm ready for whatever you have in store," he says, determination in his voice.

Jean and Green step out of the training chamber, and Jean wipes the sweat off his forehead. As they enter the elevator, Jean finally takes notice of Green's green pantsuit. "Why is your codename Green, Ms. Green?" he asks, his French accent thick.

Green chuckles. "It's because I always wear a green pantsuit," she replies in a voice that's rich, vaguely Southern, and full-textured.

Jean nods, understanding. "And what's your real name, Ms. Green?" he asks.

Green raises an eyebrow, but then shrugs. "It's Valerie, but don't tell anyone that I told you that, okay?" she says, blowing him a flying kiss.

The elevator comes to a stop, and the doors slide open. Ivan and Antonina are waiting for them. "How's it going so far?" Ivan asks.

"It's going pretty well, dear Consulates!" Green replies excitedly, and Jean smiles.

Ivan and Antonina smile, the Consulates lead the way as the Overseer and the new Consulate follow down the same dimly lit hallway.

As they walked, Jean couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, like something wasn't right. He looked at his skin and saw it melting and moving, like his skin was a candle, and underneath was a number of worms, but as he rubbed his eyes, his vision returned to normal. Ivan noticed Jean's discomfort and asked if he was okay.

"Oui, I mean, yes sir, Ivan sir," Jean replied, trying to compose himself.

The group passed by heavily guarded doors that led to various research facilities. Ivan and Antonina explained that each facility was dedicated to studying and experimenting on anomalous objects.

"Remember what we've explained to you about the 909 Council, Jean," Antonina reminded him.

"I do, Ms. Antonina," Jean replied. "You are responsible for containing world-ending phenomena, preventing the spread of deadly contagions, and saving countless lives."

"That's correct," Ivan nodded. "That gargantuan aquatic entity has taken a toll on you, but I'm surprised you remembered."

Jean's eyes widened when he heard the creature's name. "Anantashesha?"

Green, Ivan, and Antonina stared at him with blank expressions. "Yes, that creature," Green said. "I'm sure Mr. Siegel has it under control."

Ivan and Antonina reassured Jean and they finally arrived at a red crimson door. Ivan opened it and Antonina went inside first. Ivan explained that the 909 Council is a partner of the SCP Foundation, an organization similar to theirs but dedicated to containing anomalous entities and objects.

"That's why O5-7 is here," Ivan said, referring to Green. "She's a high-ranking individual within the Foundation." Green smiles.

With that, they entered the room.

The walls are lined with high-tech monitors and screens displaying live feeds from around the world. A large calendar on the wall catches Jean's eye, displaying the date as June 3rd, 1974. As the door shuts behind them, Jean turns to see Ivan, his grip firm on the handle.

Jean's mind is racing, his memories fading in and out like a flickering light. Suddenly, a vivid vision flashes in his mind. He sees a dimly lit room, with a tall French man wielding a mace, but Jean cannot recognize him. In the center of the room, he sees himself tied to a chair, and in the corner, he sees a beaten and battered body, their face unrecognizable.

A door creaks open, and a man steps out. "Max, are you done yet?" he calls out. "Not yet," the man with the mace replies. "I don't care, you have to come and see this," the figure says urgently. Jean jumps up, the chair still attached to him, he rushes towards the open door. However, before he can reach it, the man turns around and charges at him.

Jean breaks free and picks up a broken chair leg, swinging it with all his might to crush the man's head. The attacker crumples to the ground, motionless.

The vision fades away, leaving Jean feeling uneasy.

As they continue down the hallway, Jean's mind is preoccupied with the vision. He tries to push it to the back of his mind and focus on the present. Ivan and Antonina explain to him that the 909 Council is a partner of the SCP Foundation, an organization similar to theirs but dedicated to containing anomalous entities and objects. They are responsible for containing world-ending phenomena, preventing the spread of deadly contagions, and saving countless lives. This is why Green is here with them.

Jean nods even if they explained him this two times already, he is trying to absorb as much information as possible. He is determined to be a valuable asset to the 909 Council and to help them in their mission to protect the world from anomalous threats.

Jean's mind suddenly jolts with another vision. He finds himself in a dimly lit research laboratory, hunched over a file on a desk. His eyes widen in terror as he reads the contents of the file, then quickly closes it and returns it to its rightful place on the shelf.

Then, he hears the sound of gunshots ringing in his ears, and the memory fades away.

Jean shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He looks around the room and sees that Ivan and Green are watching him closely.

"Are you alright, darling?" Green asks, concern etched on her face.

"I… I don't know," Jean replies, still feeling disoriented. "I keep having these visions. They're like memories, but I don't understand them."

Ivan steps forward and places a hand on Jean's shoulder. "It's okay, Jean. We'll help you make sense of them. But right now, we have work to do."

He turns to Green. "We need to get started on the containment procedures for SCP-3000. We don't have much time."

Green nods, and Ivan and Antonina leave.

As Ivan and Antonina depart, Jean is left alone with Green. The room falls silent.

Green, with her distinctive Southern accent, breaks the silence. "You seem troubled, darling. Is everything all right?"

Jean hesitates for a moment before responding. "I keep having these strange visions. They're disjointed, but they feel real."

Green nods sympathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that, hon. But try not to worry too much. You're in good hands here with us at the 909 Council. We'll help you figure things out."

As she speaks, another vision abruptly appears in Jean's mind. He is carrying a box filled with his belongings, walking through a hallway full of researchers who pay him no attention. As he reaches the door, he shields himself from the scorching heat outside. A black vehicle is parked nearby, and a man opens the door from the inside. He is a Caucasian male in his late thirties.

"Another defector?" the man says with a smirk. "Very good."

"You may know me as O5-1, but refer to me as Aaron Siegel, please," he says as Jean nods in acknowledgement.

The vision disappears as quickly as it came, leaving Jean feeling even more disoriented.

Green clears her throat, drawing Jean's attention back to the present. "Is everything alright, Mr. Jean?" she asks in a smooth Southern drawl, her voice carrying an air of elegance and wealth.

"Yes, I just had some strange visions," Jean replies, his voice shaky.

"Ah, bless your heart, dear," Green says sympathetically. "Your memories are coming back, I can only imagine how unsettling that must be."

Jean nods, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "What is this place?" he asks, gesturing to the high-tech room around him.

"Why, this is the 909 Council's brand new command center, sweetie," Green explains, gesturing to the various screens and monitors lining the walls. "From here, they keep an eye on all sorts of anomalous activity around the world and work with their partners, such as the SCP Foundation, you know."

Jean nods, his eyes taking in the various feeds on the screens. "What kind of anomalous activity?" he asks.

Green's expression turns serious. "Well, honey, anything from rogue entities to apocalyptic events," she says, her accent becoming more pronounced. "It's their job to ensure the safety and security of all us regular folks."

As Jean takes in the gravity of her words, another vision flashes through his mind. He sees himself standing in a dark black room, surrounded by people in heavy armor with guns, the Foundation seal on their left shoulder. One of them, a man with short hair and sharp eyes, greets him.

"You are alone?," the agent asks.

He nods as a beaten and battered body is lying in the corner, sitting in a chair. A motionless man who wields a mace is on the floor, blood pouring out of his temple. He is carrying a broken chair leg, blood oozing out of it. It was a follow-up to his first vision.

The vision fades away, leaving Jean feeling even more unsettled.

"What is it, hon?" Green asks, noticing his distress.

"I think I remember something…about the Foundation," Jean says, his voice trailing off.

Green nods, her expression understanding. "Well, sugar, take your time," she says in a soothing voice. "We'll be here for you every step of the way."

As Jean tries to piece together his memories, he can't shake the feeling that he's stumbled into something much bigger than himself. Something that could change the course of his life forever.

Suddenly, Green's pocket emits a ringing sound, and she quickly reaches for her device communicator. She answers, "Yes?"

The voice on the other end belongs to a Caucasian man in his late thirties. "Valerie, how's Jean doing?" he asks.

"He's doing well, Aaron," Green responds, her rich accent thickening. "I've been teachin' him a lot about our partner, the 909 Council."

"Good," Aaron replies, the sound of a helicopter propeller audible in the background. "It's good to hear that. Rufus and I are on our way to the meeting now. You should join us."

Jean watches as Green's expression turns to one of excitement. "Of course, Aaron!" she says eagerly. "I'll head over there now. Toodles!" She hangs up and turns to Jean. "I'm sorry, darling, but duty calls," she says with a sigh.

Jean nods, understanding the importance of her work. Before she leaves, he musters up the courage to ask her a question that's been on his mind.

"Aaron Siegel… he's the one who brought me to the 909 Council's custody, right?" he asks tentatively.

Green's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Yes, honey, that's right," she confirms. "Aaron is O5-1, and I'm O5-7. The other person who he called Rufus was O5-6. Remember that, sugar."

Jean nods, committing the information to memory. "Alright, Green. Take care," he says as she leaves the room, her elegant green pantsuit making a statement against the bland white walls.

As Green exits the room, the heavy crimson door shuts behind her, leaving Jean alone in the high-tech command center. The silence is almost suffocating, broken only by the occasional drip of water echoing through the room.

Suddenly, Jean's skin begins to shift and melt from the inside out, causing him to panic as he watches in horror. The sensation intensifies, and he can feel his skin and hair changing rapidly. After a few moments of intense discomfort, the transformation ceases, and he finds himself looking completely different, like a completely different person.

He rushes towards the mirror on the far end of the room, staring at the stranger staring back at him. The reflection shows a man with short brown hair, wearing a red shirt and jeans, clearly British. He tries to scream, but his voice comes out hoarse and in an unfamiliar British accent.

The transformation continues for a while longer, until finally, his body reverts to his original form, clad in his blue Frenchman suit and with his short black hair. He pinches himself, feeling the sting of pain, and realizes that what he just experienced was not a dream or a hallucination. It was all too real.

With a million questions running through his mind, Jean begins to wonder what the 909 Council had done to him and what kind of power they held. As fear and uncertainty grip him, he realizes that he may be in way over his head.

As Jean paces back and forth, Ivan enters the room and notices his discomfort.

"What's wrong?" Ivan asks, his thick Russian accent emphasizing his concern.

Jean stops pacing and looks at Ivan, his face full of worry. "My body was changing," he says. "It was like my identity and my appearance changed. I looked British when I looked at the mirror! It wasn't a dream."

Ivan raises an eyebrow. "You're becoming a polymorph, but how? Normally, that only happens to anomalous entities contained in the Foundation."

Jean's mind races as he tries to make sense of what's happening to him. "Polymorph? What does that even mean?"

"It means you have the ability to change your appearance and identity at will," Ivan explains. "It's a rare anomaly, but not unheard of."

Jean's expression turns to one of shock. "But why is this happening to me? I'm not an anomalous entity."

"I don't know," Ivan admits. "But we need to figure out why and how this is happening to you."

Jean nods in agreement. "But what do we do now?"

"We can contact the Foundation," Ivan suggests. "They may have more information about polymorphs and how to control their abilities."

Jean shakes his head. "No, I don't want to involve them. Ms. Green mentioned a meeting with Mr. Siegel. Maybe they have some information that can help us."

Ivan nods in agreement. "Alright, we'll wait and see what they have to say. But we need to be careful. If the Foundation finds out about your abilities, they may try to contain you."

Jean's expression turns to one of fear. "Contain me?"

"The Foundation contains anomalous entities to protect humanity," Ivan explains. "But they also see them as potential threats. If they see you as a threat, they may try to contain you and study you."

Jean's mind races as he tries to make sense of everything. "I don't want to be studied. I just want to figure out what's happening to me and how to control it."

Ivan nods reassuringly. "We'll figure it out. But we need to be careful and stay under the radar."

Jean nods in agreement. "Okay. I trust you, Ivan."

Ivan nods back. "We're in this together, Jean."

The control room doors burst open, and a group of people wearing white lab coats rushed into the hallway. The Consulate, followed closely behind them and sprinted towards the only illuminated room on the floor, with her guards flanking the door. Once inside, she paused to catch her breath.

Ivan was standing next to Jean, and when Antonina saw him, she stumbled over towards them. She placed a trembling hand on Jean's forehead and felt his shallow breath.

"What happened?" Antonina asked, her voice ragged with concern.

Jean tried to answer, but his breath was too shallow. Ivan stepped forward and explained the situation to Antonina.

"He's becoming a polymorph," Ivan said. "His body is changing, and he's experiencing identity shifts."

Antonina looked alarmed. "This is highly unusual," she said. "We need to get him to the infirmary."

She motioned to her guards, who quickly lifted Jean onto a stretcher and rushed him out of the room. Antonina and Ivan followed closely behind.

As they made their way through the halls, Antonina spoke to Ivan. "I've seen this before," she said. "In SCP entities, yes, but never in a human. We need to figure out what's causing this."

Ivan nodded. "Agreed. But for now, we need to stabilize him and make sure he's okay."

They arrived at the medical bay, and Jean was whisked away by the medical staff. Antonina and Ivan stood outside, waiting anxiously for news.

After what felt like an eternity, a doctor emerged from the room. "He's stable," she said. "But he's still undergoing rapid physical changes. We're not sure what's causing it."

Antonina and Ivan exchanged a worried glance.

The doctor urged them to leave the infirmary for their safety, and Ivan and Antonina quickly exited the room. The door slammed shut behind them, causing Antonina to jump.

Ivan's mind raced as he tried to piece together what was happening. Suddenly, a memory flashed in his mind.

"I want to introduce you to O5-11," Aaron Siegel had said. "They're a powerful polymorph we found underwater for months."

Ivan remembered smiling before asking O5-11 their name. "I'm Samantha Biel, or Sam Biel," they had replied.

The memory faded, and Ivan finally realized what was happening. It wasn't just Jean who was experiencing polymorphic abilities, but an Overseer of the SCP Foundation: O5-11.

Antonina noticed the shock on Ivan's face and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I just remembered something. There's an Overseer in the Foundation who's also a polymorph," Ivan said, still trying to process the information.

Antonina's eyes widened in surprise, "Are you serious? That's never been reported before."

"Well, it's happening now with Jean. We need to figure out why and how," Ivan replied, determination in his voice.

Antonina nodded in agreement, "I'll start researching and see if there are any connections between the two cases. Meanwhile, we need to keep a close eye on Jean and ensure his safety."

Ivan agreed, "I'll go talk to Green and see if she knows anything that could help us."

Ivan couldn't shake off the feeling that they were dealing with something much bigger than they initially thought. The Foundation was built on containing and studying anomalous entities, but what if they themselves were becoming anomalies?

As Ivan tries to steady his breathing, he reaches for a small communication device and dials a number. A smooth and sultry voice answers on the other end, "Green here, what do you need Ivan?"

"Jean's becoming a polymorph," Ivan blurts out, his voice trembling. "I remember there's an Overseer called The Liar who's also a polymorph, right?"

Green's tone turns anxious. "Yes, there is— Wai— Jean's turning into one?"

Ivan nods, even though Green can't see him. "Yes, do you know anything about how to cure it?"

Green lets out a heavy sigh. "I'm afraid not, darling. Polymorphs can't be cured."

Ivan's eyes fill with tears, and he struggles to control his shaking. "What do we do then?" he asks, desperation creeping into his voice.

Green's voice takes on a more cheerful tone. "Well, don't worry too much, honey. It'll only take a few days or weeks for Jean to control his ability. Once he gets control of it, Blam! He can be a valuable asset for your organization!"

Ivan takes a deep breath, feeling a little bit of hope. "Okay, so what should we do in the meantime?"

Green ponders for a moment. "Hmm, I'll talk to Aaron later and see if he has any suggestions. In the meantime, just keep an eye on Jean and make sure he doesn't hurt himself or anyone else. And Ivan, take care of yourself, too. Toodles!" With that, the line goes dead.

Ivan puts down the device and looks at Antonina, who's been watching him anxiously. "Green doesn't know of any cure," he says, his voice flat.

Antonina nods, looking serious. "Then we'll have to make sure Jean doesn't hurt anyone while he learns to control his abilities."

The infirmary doors flung open and Ivan rushes towards Jean, who was sitting on a wheelchair being pushed by a medical staff. "I called Green," Ivan announces breathlessly. "There's no cure for polymorphs."

Jean looks up at Ivan, his eyes pleading for a solution. "What do we do then?" he asks.

"We keep an eye on you," Ivan says, trying to hide the sadness in his voice. "And make sure you don't harm yourself or anyone else."

The doctor nods in agreement. "We're doing everything we can to help you," he assures Jean.

Jean's face contorts with pain as he tries to control his shifting form. "It hurts," he whispers.

"I know," Ivan says softly, placing a hand on Jean's shoulder. "But you'll get through this. You're not alone."

The medical staff continue to wheel Jean away as Ivan watches him disappear down the hallway. Ivan stands there for a moment, feeling helpless and lost.

The sound of Jean's wheelchair echoes through the corridors of the site, growing fainter and fainter as he disappears into the darkness. Ivan stands frozen, his eyes fixed on the spot where Jean disappeared.

A sense of helplessness washes over him as he realizes that Jean's condition is irreversible. He thinks about the potential consequences of having a polymorph roaming the site, the danger he could pose to himself and others.

Ivan takes a deep breath and tries to gather his thoughts. He needs to come up with a plan to contain Jean's abilities and keep him under control. He decides to consult with Antonina and the rest of the team to devise a strategy.

As he turns to leave, Ivan can't shake the feeling that something dark and sinister is brewing beneath the surface of the site. The events of the past few hours have left him on edge, and he can't help but wonder what other secrets his site is hiding.

Elsewhere, The Overseer is seated in a dimly lit conference room, the rest of the attendees having long since departed. Only five figures remain, including a person whose gender and ethnicity are difficult to discern. Their attire is ornate, but a small scar on their left temple hints at a darker past, she quickly adjusts their hair to conceal it. Green, a middle-aged woman in a vibrant green pantsuit, picks at her cigarette while perched on the edge of the table. Across from Aaron sits a tall elderly man with distinct Spanish features; he is Rufus King. Finally, a young woman in her twenties with long black gloves sits next to Aaron, the designation "O5-2" emblazoned on her back.

Green extinguished her cigarette and broke the silence in the Foundation meeting room.

"You remember, Aaron?" she asked with her soft, rich accent.

The Founder nodded in response.

"Jean has been transformed into a polymorph," he said. "Sam," he continued, addressing the person in lavish outfits with a small scar on their left temple. "Since you're a polymorph too, can you provide any specific instructions for Jean? He's becoming like you. Since you've learned to control your ability, can you help him?"

The person known as the Liar, who was sitting quietly until now, raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Which partner are you referring to?" they asked.

"The 909 Council," the Founder clarified. "Is there anything you would like him to know?"

The Liar paused for a moment before responding.

"I can give them a general idea of what's going on, but I won't be able to provide any specifics," they say. "As for Jean, I can give him some guidance on how to control his abilities, but it won't be easy."

The American speaks up, "We need to ensure that Jean doesn't pose a threat to the Foundation or to the outside world."

"I agree," The Nazarene says, nodding. "But we also need to make sure he doesn't feel like he's being imprisoned. We should try to find a way to help him come to terms with his new abilities."

The Founder looks at each of them thoughtfully. "We'll need to approach this carefully. We don't want to risk any breaches or containment breaches."

The Liar chimes in, "And we don't want to scare Jean away or make him feel like he's being treated like a monster."

The table nods in unison.

"Let's reconvene tomorrow and come up with a plan of action," he says. "In the meantime, let's keep an eye on Jean and make sure he's not a danger to himself or others."

The Overseers disperse.

The Founder rose from his seat, with the Nazarene holding onto his hand. But before they could move any further, the phone on the table rang, breaking the silence in the room.

The Nazarene let go of the Founder's hand as he walked towards the phone, her long black gloves trailing behind her. "I understand," she said softly.

"Thanks, Sophia," the Founder replied, his voice calm and steady as he picked up the receiver on the third ring.

He spoke in low tones for a few moments before setting the receiver back down. The Nazarene watched him intently from across the table. The Founder's gaze shifted towards the shadows, as if he was looking at someone, but no one was there. In reality, the phone was the Administrator, communicating through it to the Founder.

— - —

Ivan, also known as The Founder, sits at the head of a long, polished mahogany ovular table in a 909 Council meeting room in Site-12D. Four other council members sit around the table with him, including Antonina, also known as The Canaanite, who sits on his right. To his left is a Caucasian male of Greek descent, who goes by the name The Tattletale. Across from him is an East Asian male with a monocle perched on his right eye, who is known as Greed. Next to Greed sits a Caucasian male with Nordic features, who is referred to as The Humanitarian. Lastly, a woman of European descent, known as The Vassal, sits at the opposite end of the table.

Jean stands behind The Founder, observing the meeting.

As the meeting progresses, the Founder rises from his seat and retrieves a small device from his pocket. With a single red button on top, it looks deceptively simple. The Founder presses the button, and a section of the wall behind him silently slides open to reveal a large, white screen. With another press of the button, the screen hums to life, casting a bright glow across the room.

The Founder turns to face the screen, which displays the face of the Liar, an Overseer of the Foundation. "Thank you for joining us," the Founder says. "We have a newly designated Consulate, Jean, who has recently transformed into a polymorph. We were hoping you could give us some guidance on how to help him control his abilities."

The Liar nods in understanding. "I can certainly provide some guidance," they said. "Polymorphs have a unique ability to manipulate their physical form. With practice, Jean should be able to control their transformations and maintain a stable form."

The Tattletale interjects. "What about the emotional toll?" he asks. "Doesn't the constant shifting take a toll on their mental health?"

The Liar considers this for a moment before responding. "Yes, it can be a difficult adjustment. But with the right support and training, Jean should be able to manage their emotions and maintain control over their abilities."

The Founder nods in agreement. "Thank you for your guidance," he says. "We will do everything we can to support Jean through this."

The screen goes black as the call ends. The Founder turns to face the Consulates. "We have our work cut out for us," he says. "But we will do everything we can to help Jean control their abilities and adjust to their new life as a polymorph."

In the middle of the discussion, the door to the meeting room suddenly swung open, and a man rushed in, gasping for breath. He was a Portuguese man in his late forties, holding a leather-bound book in his hand.

"I'm sorry Ivan!" he exclaimed, trying to catch his breath. "Am I late?"

The Founder nodded. "Yes, very late, Francisco," he said, his tone stern.

"I'm so sorry Ivan, what did I miss?" the man, now referred to as The Historical Archivist, said as he tried to catch his breath.

"You missed everything," Ivan said, his anger still simmering just below the surface.

He then turned to The Vassal, nodding towards her. She stood up and began to recount everything that had been discussed before The Historical Archivist's arrival.

The Historical Archivist listens carefully to The Vassal's explanation, his eyes flicking back and forth across the faces of the other Consulates. When she finishes, he nods slowly and takes a seat.

"I see," he says, his voice soft but firm. "Thank you, Aurora."

The Founder clears his throat and speaks up. "Now that we're all caught up, let's continue with the matter at hand. Jean, we need to find a way to control your abilities. Has anyone had any success with something like this in the past?"

The Canaanite speaks up. "There have been a few cases of anomalous individuals with similar abilities. We might be able to find something in our archives that could help."

The Tattletale nods. "Agreed. And we should also consider bringing in outside help, if necessary."

The Humanitarian speaks up. "I have some contacts who specialize in unusual medical cases. They might have some insights."

The Vassal leans forward. "I also have some resources at my disposal. I'll see what I can do."

The Founder nods. "Good. Let's all start researching and reconvene in a week. Hopefully, by then, we'll have some leads on how to help Jean."

The Founder stays behind and turns to Jean gesturing for him to leave.

"Don't worry, we'll find a way to help you," he says with a reassuring smile.

Jean nods, his eyes still looking sad. "Thank you, Ivan."

The Founder watches Jean exit through the door, deep in thought.

The Tattletale spoke up, his eyes scanning the group. "Ivan, if I may ask, what was Green's response to your inquiry?"

The Founder nodded before replying. "I asked her if there was a cure for polymorphs. She stated that there wasn't one."

The room fell into silence at the revelation, each of the Consulates wearing a look of concern on their faces except for The Canaanite, who remained stoic.

The Humanitarian speaks up, "Is there any hope then? Can we do something for Jean?"

The Founder looks at Jean, who is standing quietly behind him, "During the call, I remembered something, I remembered the Overseer with similar properties. That is why I call in the Liar."

The room goes silent for a moment, as the Consulates process this information.

Finally, The Historical Archivist breaks the silence, "I have some information on the Liar in my archives. I could gather it and send it to you, Ivan."

The Founder nods, "That would be helpful, Francisco."

The Tattletale clears his throat, "Ivan, have you considered that Jean's transformation may not be accidental? Could someone have tampered with him?"

The Founder's expression turns serious, "That's a possibility, Hudson. We need to investigate this."

The Canaanite speaks up, "I agree. I will have my team conduct a full investigation on Jean's recent activities."

The Founder nods, "Thank you, Antonina. Let's reconvene tomorrow once we have more information."

With that, the Consulates start to file out of the room.

Jean is waiting patiently outside the door. The door opens with The Consulates exiting all at once, with Ivan at the back. Finally, Ivan finally leaves but stops when he feels a small pain on his stomach. Ivan turns to see Jean held out a hand to stop him.

"Ivan," he says quietly, "what's going to happen to me?"

The Founder puts a hand on his shoulder, "We will do everything we can to help you, Jean. You're not alone in this."

Jean nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn't fade as he leaves Ivan behind.

Ivan watches him go before turning his attention to Antonina, the Canaanite, who is already heading towards the elevator. He straightens his tie and follows her.

Ivan catches up with Antonina just before she reaches the elevator. "Antonina," he says, "may I have a word with you?"

She nods and they step into the elevator together. Ivan presses the button for the ground floor and the elevator begins its descent. They stand in silence for a few moments before Ivan speaks again.

"I need your help with something," he says. "Something I cannot discuss with the others."

Antonina looks at him with a curious expression. "Of course, Ivan," she says. "What do you need?"

Ivan takes a deep breath. "I need you to investigate something for me," he says. "Something that has been troubling me for some time now."

"What is it?" Antonina asks.

"It's about the origin of our partnership with the Foundation," Ivan says. "I have reason to believe that there may be more to it than what we have been told."

Antonina raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asks.

"I can't go into detail right now," Ivan says. "But I believe there may be a connection between the Foundation and certain groups that we have had conflicts with in the past. I need you to find out everything you can about our partnership with the Foundation, and see if there is anything that has been kept from us."

Antonina nods. "Consider it done," she says. "I'll start looking into it immediately."

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open. Ivan steps out and turns back to Antonina. "Thank you, Antonina," he says. "Your loyalty to the Council is appreciated."

She nods and steps back into the elevator as the doors slide shut. Ivan heads towards his office, his mind already racing with the possibilities of what Antonina might uncover.

The doors of the elevator shaft open, and Ivan and Antonina step out of the elevator, they find themselves in the lobby of Site-12D. Ivan bids farewell to Antonina before watching her walk away, and then he heads towards the exit door. He can't help but notice the flickering lights, which have been an ongoing issue at the site. Ivan knows that there's not much he can do about it since the site is relatively new.

Once he reaches the door, Ivan places his hand on the handle and turns it clockwise. The door opens smoothly, and he steps outside into the cool Bangladeshi air. He sees a sleek black car with the 909 Council emblem on it parked outside, and he waves to the driver, who waves back.

As Ivan walks towards the car, he sees someone sitting in the back seat. — It's Tristan, the Humanitarian.

"Hey, Ivan," Tristan greets him with a warm smile.

Ivan nods in response. "What brings you here?"

Tristan shrugs. "Just thought I'd catch a ride with the Council car. It's a long walk to my hotel from here."

Ivan nods again, understandingly. "Hop in."

Tristan thanks him and opens the door to sit in the front passenger seat. Ivan gets into the back seat next to him, and the driver starts the car.

As they drive through the busy streets of Dhaka, Tristan strikes up a conversation with Ivan. "So, how did the meeting go?"

Ivan lets out a tired sigh. "It was…tense. We discussed Jean's situation and the fact that there's no cure for polymorphs."

Tristan frowns. "I remember, Is there anything we can do for Jean?"

Ivan shakes his head. "Not at the moment. We're just trying to figure out how to help him control his abilities."

Tristan nods, understandingly. "Well, I hope you find a solution soon. We can't let one of our own suffer like that."

Ivan smiles slightly. "Thanks, Tristan. I appreciate your concern."

As the car drives through the city, Ivan looks out the window and reflects on the meeting. He knows that they have a lot of work to do to help Jean, but he's confident that they'll figure it out. After all, the Council has faced challenges before and always come out on top.

The sleek black car pulled up to a stop in front of a towering white hotel, and Ivan turned to face Tristan. "We have arrived, Tristan," Ivan said with a nod.

Tristan grinned in excitement as he reached for the door handle. As he opened the door, it accidentally slammed against the car, causing both men to wince.

"Sorry about that," Tristan apologized before stepping out onto the pavement.

Ivan watched as Tristan made his way towards the entrance of the hotel, his steps quick and confident. Once Tristan disappeared from view, Ivan leaned back into the car seat, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him.

The car started moving again, and Ivan found himself alone with his thoughts. He gazed out of the window, watching the passing cityscape of Dhaka. The flickering lights of the buildings seemed to blend together, creating a mesmerizing display.

As the car continued down the road, Ivan closed his eyes, feeling the cool air of the air conditioning washing over him.

The car finally came to a stop after hours of driving. The driver, an unknown man in heavy armor, got out and gestured for Ivan to follow. Ivan nodded and stepped out of the car.

The two men were greeted by a sprawling facility hidden behind a row of mountains. "Welcome back, Consulate," the armored man said, his voice muffled by his helmet.

Ivan smiled, "It's good to be back, Reason." He referred to the man by his codename, as was the norm among the Council.

Reason led Ivan down a dirt pathway until they reached a heavy wooden door framed within the 909 Council's seal. The stone archway was intricately carved with images of monsters, miracles, and towers stretching to the heavens and deep underground.

These symbols held great significance, serving a purpose for their partner organization.

A race of humanoids worshiping a dead god.

A massive machine sleeping beneath the earth.

Dark and empty eyes.

The faces of animals without names.

A metal suit from a mysterious future.

Towering rows of books stretching into dark infinity.

A human with a history of misfortunate events.

Ivan gazed at the carvings, but he did not notice the archway.

Reason stood back as Ivan approached the heavy wooden door framed within the 909 Council's seal. The symbols etched into the stone archway surrounding the door were a reminder of their partnership with the Foundation, but Ivan was too focused on what lay beyond to notice. As the door creaked open, Ivan turned to Reason.

"Will anyone else be joining us?" he asked, his voice low.

"No," Reason replied.

"Make sure they don't," Ivan instructed.

"As you wish," Reason nodded.

Ivan stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the door. He hesitated for a moment, looking back at Reason's unflinching gaze, before disappearing into the unknown.

Ivan traversed the narrow, intricately carved tunnel with a sense of awe. The darkness enveloped him, but he could make out the faintest shapes etched into the walls. The figures were so detailed and intricate that it felt like they were alive. As he walked, he heard whispers in the distance. The voices were too far away to be heard, yet they seemed to accompany his footsteps.

Soon, Ivan emerged into a grand room, larger than the one before. The centerpiece was a long, ovular table illuminated by spotlights suspended high above it. The walls were lined with screens displaying various scenes from around the facility. He saw researchers huddled over microscopes, security personnel patrolling the halls, and monsters lurking in their containment units.

Suddenly, the largest screen flickered to life, displaying moments from Ivan's past. He saw himself at different points in his life, leading up to this moment. — He saw himself sitting alone in the darkness of a church, when he was only thirteen. He saw himself fleeing the cold lands of Russia with another man, and then arriving at a sprawling British city.

He saw himself in an academy, one that is now a consortium, being appointed a doctor. His first meeting with his brother Aleksander. His first with his old friend Chris Walker, whom Ivan was accompanied by Edward Saunders. The four of them meeting Hudson.

Each scene made him feel like a puppet being dragged along by an invisible force. He traced the string back to its origin, across the world and back, until it led him to this room.

As Ivan approached the phone at the end of the room, he noticed something lying next to it on the stairway. He couldn't make out what it was, but he felt a growing sense of unease. Just as he took a step towards the phone, it began to ring.

The ring of the phone echoed loudly through the room, the only sound present other than Ivan's footsteps as he approached it.


And it rang.


And rang.


And rang.


And rang.


And rang.


On the seventh ring, Ivan reached for the phone and picked it up. The ringing stopped, leaving the room in silence once more.

— - —

Meanwhile, in a dark and foreboding corner of Site-12D, Jean found himself locked in his room, struggling to contain his unruly polymorphic abilities. The door loomed before him, its small window providing only the faintest glimpse of the world outside. He could see his fellow Consulates passing by in the dim light, their faces etched with worry and concern.

But Jean knew he couldn't let his powers get the best of him. Not now, not when the fate of the Council hung in the balance. He took a deep breath and tried to focus his thoughts, willing his body to obey his commands.

It was then that Antonina's words came back to him, ringing in his ears like a warning bell. The Liar, one of the few other human polymorphs in existence, had given her a warning about Jean's powers. He couldn't harm anyone, nor himself, when he had control over himself. It was a glimmer of hope in an otherwise dark situation, but Jean was finding it hard to hold on to.

He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, his body writhing with the effort of controlling his abilities. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his breathing grew ragged, but he refused to give in. He knew that if he lost control, the consequences could be catastrophic.

For now, all he could do was wait and hope that he could gain the upper hand once more. Locked away from the rest of the world, Jean was left alone with his thoughts and his powers, fighting an internal battle that he wasn't sure he could win.

Then, the metal door let out a spine-tingling screech as it opened, revealing the silhouette of Antonina, The Canaanite, in the bright light behind her. Jean squinted as he tried to adjust his eyes to the sudden illumination.

"Antonina?" he asked, his French accent thickening with concern.

Antonina's usually vibrant eyes appeared pallid, hinting at the gravity of the situation. "Have you regained control yet?" she inquired, her voice laced with anxiety.

Jean shook his head, his features contorted with frustration. "No, not yet," he replied. "These visions, they're my memories, they keep coming back."

Antonina's expression softened, empathy flickering in her eyes. "I understand," she offered comfortingly. "Green will be back soon to speak with you."

A glimmer of relief shone in Jean's eyes, and he offered her a grateful smile. "Thank you, Ms. Antonina," he said as she turned to leave. The door shut with a dull thud, plunging the room back into darkness.

Jean slumped back in his rickety wooden chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. The darkness above him seemed to grow deeper, swallowing him whole. His eyelids drooped heavily, and soon he drifted off into a fitful slumber.

As he slept, Jean's mind was plagued by vivid, haunting dreams. Memories long since forgotten flooded his mind, overwhelming him with a sense of loss and despair. He tossed and turned in his sleep, muttering unintelligibly.

Hours passed, and the sun began to rise outside. Jean stirred in his chair, his eyes fluttering open. He rubbed his bleary eyes and looked around, disoriented. For a moment, he had forgotten where he was.

Then the memories came flooding back. The door, the darkness, Antonina's visit. He sighed heavily, knowing that his struggle was far from over. But for now, at least, he was grateful for the brief respite of sleep.

The sound of metal grating against metal roused Jean from his slumber. He rubbed his eyes and sat up in his chair, his gaze fixed on the silhouette that appeared in the doorway. It was unmistakably Green, the cunning belle of the Overseer Council.

"Well, hello there, sugar," Green drawled as she sauntered into the room. "How's our little polymorph doing today?"

Jean frowned, unsure of how to respond to the older woman's flirtatious tone. "I am… struggling," he admitted.

Green clicked her tongue sympathetically. "Oh, bless your heart," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It can be tough, dealing with all those memories and emotions rushing back. But don't you worry none, Jean, we're here to help you through it."

She then turned to the door and called out, "Antonina, sweetie, could you bring us some sweet tea? I think our boy here could use a some."

As Antonina brought in the tea, Green continued to chat with Jean, offering words of encouragement and support. Though her demeanor was bubbly and flirtatious, Jean could sense a deep sense of caring and compassion beneath the Southern charm.

As Green finished her tea, she patted Jean's knee and said, "Now, you take care of yourself, sugar. We'll be here for you every step of the way."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Jean alone once again in the darkness.

Jean stood up from his chair, feeling the weight of his position as the Eleventh Consulate of the 909 Council. His mind wandered back to the day he was brought in by a mysterious Caucasian man to meet with Ivan and Antonina. The only sounds he remembered were the blaring alarm and the whirring of helicopter blades as the man hurried Ivan and Antonina to their car then disappearing into the night.

But now, Jean was alone in the site, with no one to keep him company but the sound of his own footsteps as he paced back and forth. His impatience grew with each passing moment, and he found himself tapping his foot in frustration to break the oppressive silence.

As Jean tried to focus his eyes in the dim light, he could make out the shape of Ivan's long beard and his blue outfit. It reminded him of the day he was brought to the custody of the 909 Council. It was Ivan who received him then.

As Jean thought about that day, he remembered the name of the man who brought him in - Aaron Siegel, an Overseer of the SCP Foundation. He knew that the 909 Council had an alliance with the Foundation. Ivan took a step forward, and then another.

"Greetings, Jean," Ivan greeted him, his voice soft. "How are you holding up?"

Jean rose from his chair, trying to shake off his lethargy. "It's been tough," he replied. "I'm still struggling with my abilities. Green came to see me earlier, but I can't remember what she said."

Ivan nodded understandingly. "I know it's hard, but you're not alone in this. We all have our struggles. And who knows, maybe one day we'll be even stronger than our rivals."

Jean looked at him skeptically. "Do you really think that's possible?"

Ivan's smile never faltered. "Anything is possible, Jean. We just have to believe it," he said before continuing. "I just got off the phone with the Administrator. He watches everything, and he's even higher than us Consulates."

Jean nodded, knowing full well who the Administrator was. He was the voice on the phone and the highest position of the 909 Council.

"Green?" Jean asked, changing the subject. "Where is she now?"

"She's waiting for you on the ground floor, near the elevator," Ivan said, taking a step back. "She wants to talk to you."

"Thank you, Ivan," Jean said, feeling a flicker of hope in his chest. "I'll go see her now."

Jean rose from his chair and followed Ivan down the hallway, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the walls. He couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he thought about the Administrator and the mysteries that surrounded him. Ivan's words had only deepened his curiosity about the enigmatic figure.

As they approached the elevator, Jean saw Green waiting for him, leaning against the wall in a green pantsuit that accentuated her curves. She greeted him with a smile and blew him a flying kiss, but Jean found himself recoiling from her touch.

"How are you holding up?" she asked sympathetically.

"I'm doing okay," Jean replied. "Just trying to figure out my abilities."

Green nodded understandingly. "It's not easy, but you'll get there eventually."

She then leaned in closer and her perfume filled Jean's senses. "We're going to have a little chat later," she said with a sly smile.

Jean felt a knot form in his stomach at her words, but he nodded nonetheless. Ivan raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

"Now, now," said Green, gesturing towards Ivan. "Don't be crazy, Ivan. You know that's just how I talk."

Ivan laughed and shook his head. "You never change, Valerie."

Green rolled her eyes. "Don't call me that, you know only the Overseers can use our real names."

Jean watched the exchange with a mixture of confusion and discomfort, but he followed them into the elevator nonetheless. The doors closed behind them, and Jean felt a sense of relief as the cramped space gave him some distance from Green's overpowering presence.

Jean stepped into the elevator with Green and Ivan, feeling a sense of discomfort as he stood between them. The elevator descended slowly, and Jean tried to steady his breathing. He knew he was about to have a difficult conversation with Green, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for it.

As they rode the elevator up, Green kept up a steady stream of small talk, but Jean's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't right. He had trusted Green and Ivan up to this point, but the mention of the Administrator and Green's suggestive comments had set him on edge.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, revealing a dimly lit hallway. Green gestured for him and Ivan to follow as she led him down the corridor. They passed by a few doors before finally coming to one at the end of the hall. Green produced a keycard and swiped it through the lock, and the door clicked open.

Green led Jean and Ivan into a large conference room, its walls adorned with framed photographs and charts of various objects. As they took their seats at the long wooden table, Jean's eyes were drawn to a photograph of a strange creature with a dozen tentacles and a gaping maw. He shuddered and looked away, feeling a chill run down his spine.

Green noticed his discomfort and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Jean," she said, her voice soft. "We'll get your memories back and you'll be back to your old self in no time."

Ivan cleared his throat and addressed Jean. "Jean, we've been monitoring your progress closely," he said, his voice serious. "And we think it's time for you to undergo a special procedure that will help you regain your memories."

Jean felt a flicker of hope at Ivan's words. "What kind of procedure?" he asked, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"It's called a memory regression," Ivan explained. "It involves accessing your subconscious mind and bringing your memories to the surface."

Jean nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "When can we do it?"

"We can start as soon as you're ready," Green said, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Jean nodded again and looked at Ivan. "What do I need to do?"

Ivan leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Just relax and let the machine do its work," he said. "We'll be with you the entire time."

Jean nodded and closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He felt the machine hum to life, its gentle vibrations lulling him into a state of relaxation.

As he drifted off, Jean couldn't help but wonder what memories would surface, and whether they would be too painful to bear. But he knew that he had to take this chance, no matter the cost.

Jean hesitated for a moment before stepping into the machine, feeling a rush of anxiety wash over him. The room began to hum as the machine's lights flickered to life, casting an eerie blue glow across the walls. He could hear the distant sound of Ivan and Green's voices, but they sounded far away, as if coming from another world.

As Jean settled into the machine, he felt a sudden jolt that caused him to lose his balance. The machine shook violently, sparks flying out of the control panel as the lights flickered on and off. Jean could feel the energy coursing through the machine, surging through his body like a bolt of lightning. Then, everything went black.

When Jean finally opened his eyes, he found himself lying in a sterile white room, surrounded by beeping machines and medical equipment. His head throbbed with pain, and his body ached all over. As he struggled to sit up, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, causing him to fall back onto the bed.

A nurse rushed over to him, a look of concern etched on her face. "Don't move," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You've been through a lot. You need to rest."

Jean tried to speak, but his throat felt dry and scratchy. He coughed, trying to clear his throat, and the nurse handed him a glass of water. He took a sip, feeling the cool liquid soothe his parched throat.

"What happened?" he managed to croak out.

The nurse looked at him sympathetically. "You had a bit of a mishap in the machine," she said, checking his vitals. "But you're going to be okay. Just take it easy for a while."

Jean nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He lay back down, closing his eyes as the nurse continued to tend to him. As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but wonder what had gone wrong in the machine, and what kind of damage it had caused. He had a feeling that things were only going to get more complicated from here on out.

Jean's recovery from his previous experience in the machine was slow but steady. He had suffered from several internal injuries and was fortunate to be alive. His time in the infirmary had given him time to reflect on what had happened and what could happen in the future. Jean felt a sense of apprehension, and his mind raced with thoughts of the dangerous implications of the machine.

Ivan and Antonina, on the other hand, were eager to continue their research, fueled by the passion for their project. The machine was their life's work, and they couldn't wait to perfect it. They had to find a way to overcome the power outage problem, and they were determined to do so. They spent long hours experimenting with the machine, tirelessly pouring over data and tirelessly testing their invention.

Despite Jean's reservations about the machine, he remained a dedicated member of the team. He was eager to get back into the machine, and he felt as though it held the key to unlocking secrets about the universe. He couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and adventure whenever he thought about the possibilities the machine could unlock.

One day, while lying in bed in the infirmary, Jean overheard a conversation between Ivan and Antonina. They were discussing the possibility of using the machine to see into every point in the world simultaneously. Jean was stunned by what he had heard. He had never imagined that the machine could be capable of such a thing.

As he lay in bed, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was not right about the machine. He had vivid recollections of his previous experience, the strange visions he had encountered, and the feeling of being transported to another world. He couldn't help but feel that the machine was unstable, that there was a danger lurking just beneath the surface.

Unbeknownst to him, Green left after getting into contact with Aaron Siegel.

Despite his concerns, Jean kept his reservations to himself. He didn't want to discourage Ivan and Antonina, knowing how much the machine meant to them. He watched from the sidelines as the two researchers became more and more obsessed with their work, their focus entirely on the machine and its possibilities.

One night, while Jean was lying in bed, he heard a strange noise coming from the lab. It sounded like a machine in overdrive, and it was coming from the direction of the machine. He sat up, his heart pounding in his chest, and peered out of the window. He saw a faint glow emanating from within the lab.

Without hesitation, Jean got out of bed and made his way to the lab. As he approached, he could feel the ground shaking beneath his feet, and he could hear the sound of voices shouting over the noise of the machinery. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, his eyes widening in horror at what he saw.

Ivan and Antonina were standing in front of the machine, their faces twisted with concentration, frantically typing on the control panel. The machine was now glowing with a blinding white light, and Jean could see the strain on their faces, the sweat pouring down their foreheads.

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion, and the room was filled with smoke and debris. Jean felt a searing pain in his side and realized that he had been hit by a piece of shrapnel. He stumbled backwards, feeling dizzy and disoriented.

Ivan looks back to see Jean on the floor, Ivan rushed to his side.

"We have to get out of here," Ivan shouted, grabbing Jean by the arm. "The machine's gone critical. We have to shut it down before it's too late."

Together, the three of them stumbled out of the lab and into the hallway, the sound of the explosion ringing in their ears. They could hear alarms blaring in the distance, and they knew that they had to act fast before the entire facility was destroyed.

The three Consulates had barely managed to escape the lab, dodging panicked researchers and technicians rushing past them amidst the sounds of explosions and alarms echoing through the air. Jean could feel the ground trembling beneath his feet as they fled the site that was now engulfed in flames.

Looking back, Jean saw a figure running away from the site, their features barely discernible amidst the chaos. As the figure drew closer, Jean recognized the face of The Tattletale, Hudson Theodore. The First Consulate had managed to escape along with the other Consulates, including The Historical Archivist and The Vassal.

Turning a corner, they found themselves face to face with a group of security personnel armed with guns and protective gear. The guards demanded to know what was going on and ordered them to stop, but upon seeing the three Consulates, the guards nodded grimly and instructed them to follow to a secure location.

As they made their way through the facility, Jean couldn't shake off the feeling of impending doom. He knew that their experiment had gone horribly wrong and that they were all in grave danger.

Eventually, they arrived at a heavily reinforced room that resembled a bunker. The guards quickly ushered them inside and locked the door behind them.

For a few minutes, the room was silent except for the sound of their breathing and the occasional distant explosion.

Jean couldn't help but feel a sense of dread, knowing that they were facing something far beyond their expectations. He had a sinking feeling that they had unleashed something terrible, something that they may never be able to control.

His attention was drawn to a calendar hanging on the wall, the date reading June 30th, 1974.

"Where's Green?" Jean asked.

"She's with the Overseers," Ivan replied. "She left after Aaron called her back."

Jean nodded in understanding, but then a TV screen flickered to life, displaying the 909 Council seal: a red rotating snake consuming its tail with a spinning gear in the middle. Ivan realized that the reinforced room was a bunker designed for such an event.

The spinning of the 909 Council seal on the screen grew increasingly rapid until it suddenly stopped, showing a black and white footage of a young Ivan and a man whom he called "Ismael," an Israeli-Palestinian male. The tape was an introduction to the 909 Council and its partners, including the SCP Foundation. In the video, young Ivan and Ismael stated the Council's objectives: containing world-ending phenomena, preventing the spread of contagious diseases, and saving countless lives.

As Ivan watched the video, a name formed on his lips, which he quietly muttered under his breath.

"Ismael… I'm sorry… It was my mistake…"

Neither Jean nor Antonina noticed, but Ivan had known Ismael since the turn of the 16th century.

Then, Jean approached Ivan, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. He could sense that Ivan was troubled by the footage of his younger self and his former friend Ismael.

"Who are those people?" Jean asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

Ivan hesitated for a moment before answering, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "That tall one, that's me, years ago," he explained. "And that's… my old friend… Ismael."

Jean's eyes widened in surprise. "Who's Ismael?" he asked, sensing that there was more to this story than Ivan was letting on.

"He left us… I knew him for centuries," Ivan said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tears welled up in Ivan's eyes, but he didn't let them fall. Jean could see the pain etched on Ivan's face, and he knew that there was something more to this story than Ivan was telling him.

"Why did he leave?" Jean asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Ivan looked away, his expression pained. "You don't want to know," he said, his voice barely audible. "It's best if you stay here for a moment."

Jean nodded, sensing that Ivan needed some time alone to process his grief. He looked around the bunker, wondering how long they would be stuck there and what the future held for them.

The room was filled with equipment that Jean couldn't identify, and there was a small table with some chairs in the corner. A few books and papers were scattered on the table, but Jean couldn't focus on them. His mind was racing with thoughts of what could have gone wrong with their experiment and what they would do next.

The sound of explosions and alarms continued to echo in the distance, reminding Jean of the danger that was still present outside the bunker. He knew that they were up against something powerful, something that they might never be able to contain.

Ivan turned away from Jean and walked to a corner of the room, where he slumped down against the wall. His eyes were distant, lost in memory.

Antonina looked at him with concern, but didn't say anything. She knew Ivan well enough to know that he needed some time alone.

The room was silent again, save for the occasional explosion in the distance. The tension was palpable, and everyone could feel it weighing down on them.

After a few minutes, Ivan finally spoke up.

"You know what the worst part is?" he said, his voice low and pained. "I knew this was going to happen. I knew it, and I did nothing to stop it."

Jean and Antonina exchanged a look, both unsure of how to respond.

"What do you mean?" Jean finally asked.

"I mean," Ivan said, his voice rising, "that I knew what we were doing was dangerous. I knew that we were playing with things that we didn't fully understand. But I was so convinced that we could control it, that we could contain it. I was so blind."

He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

Antonina stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault," she said gently. "We all knew the risks. We all made the choice to be here."

Ivan looked up at her, his eyes red and puffy. "But I was the one in charge," he said. "I was the one who was supposed to keep everyone safe. And I failed."

Jean stepped forward as well. "We don't know what happened yet," he said. "We don't know if anyone survived, or what the extent of the damage is. But we do know that we're all still here. And we're going to get through this together."

Ivan looked at Jean, and then at Antonina. He took a deep breath, and then another. "You're right," he said, his voice steadying. "We're still here. And we have a job to do."

He stood up, and the three of them looked at each other with grim determination. And then, the door to the room shook as something slammed into it from the other side.

Finally, the door stopped shaking, and then the room behind the door produced a ringing sound. Ivan opened the door and entered, his expression unreadable. Jean turned to follow, but Antonina stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave him be," she said, her voice low and serious. "It's important."

Jean hesitated for a moment, then nodded in agreement. He could sense the tension in the air, and he knew that Ivan needed some time to himself.

As they waited for Ivan to emerge, Jean couldn't help but wonder what had happened behind that door. He had a feeling that it was something big, something that they weren't quite ready for.

When Ivan finally reappeared, his expression gave nothing away. Jean couldn't help but wonder what he had seen inside that room, but he didn't dare ask.

"Who was that?" Jean asked instead, trying to break the uneasy silence that had descended upon them.

"Nothing," Ivan replied curtly, his eyes flicking towards the door of the reinforced room before quickly returning to Jean's.

Jean nodded, sensing that it was best not to push the matter any further. But deep down, he knew that something big was happening, something that they were only on the fringes of.

They were all just pawns in a much larger game, and Jean couldn't help but wonder if they were playing on the right side.

Then, a loud explosion erupted from outside, Jean jumped at the sound of the explosion, his hands instinctively flying up to cover his ears. As the debris rained down outside, he felt a sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

When the knock came on the reinforced door, Ivan hesitated for a moment before finally opening it. The relief on the man's face was palpable as he stumbled inside.

"Ivan, thank God!" the man gasped, and Jean could see that it was none other than Hudson Theodore, the Tattletale.

"What the hell happened?" Ivan demanded, looking frustrated.

"The site exploded," Hudson said, his voice shaking.

"The other Consulates? Where are they?"

Hudson's shrug was answer enough, and Ivan's expression darkened.

"It's too late now—" he began, but was cut off by Hudson's next question.

"Where's Tristan?" Hudson asked urgently.

"He's at his apartment in Dhaka," Ivan replied.

"I hope he's safe," Hudson muttered, his eyes flicking around the room as if searching for answers.

The room was getting more crowded by the minute. Ivan's frustration was palpable, and it seemed like the others were just as shaken up as he was. Jean felt like he was caught in the middle of something much bigger than himself, something he couldn't even begin to understand.

The reinforced door of the secure room swung open once again, revealing the remaining members of the 909 Council. Hudson stepped aside to allow them entry, and Ivan wasted no time in ushering them in. Jean watched as the Historical Archivist, the Vassal, and Greed entered the room, all looking shaken and confused.

"Jesus Christ, Ivan," Greed muttered as he took in the scene before him.

"Don't ask any questions, Calvin," Ivan snapped, clearly agitated.

The Vassal turned to Jean, concern etched on her face. "Are you feeling alright, Jean?" she asked.

"I…I'm okay, I guess," Jean replied, still reeling from the events of the past few minutes. "Thanks, Ms. Aurora."

The Vassal nodded in understanding, then turned her attention back to the others. The Historical Archivist was the first to speak up.

"What the fuck did you two do?" he demanded, his eyes flashing with anger.

"I said, don't ask any questions right now, Francisco," Ivan shot back, his own temper starting to fray.

The Historical Archivist grumbled but didn't press the issue any further. "Fine," he said after a moment. "The only thing that matters is that we're safe." The rest of the 909 Council nodded in unison, relieved to have made it through whatever had just happened.

The room had already been cramped, but now it was downright claustrophobic. Hudson looked over his shoulder at the TV, where a red circle pierced by three parallel arrows had appeared on the screen. Ivan's eyes went wide, and he turned to face the screen.

"SHOULD INTERMITTENT VENGEANCE ARM AGAIN HIS RED RIGHT HAND TO PLAGUE US?" the words beneath the symbol read, followed by an ominous red text.

It was the Chaos Insurgency logo, and Ivan knew what it meant. He watched in horror as a face appeared on the screen — Ismael. The man had aged since Ivan had last seen him, but he was just as dangerous as ever.

"Brothers and sisters of the Insurgency," Ismael said, his voice low and menacing. "Today, we have scored a great victory against those who would seek to undermine our reality. Today, we have spat in the face of tyrants who would use the unraveling of creation for their own benefit, instead of seeking to heal it. Our strength grows, and with it does our influence."

Ivan felt his blood run cold. He knew what Ismael was capable of, and the fact that he was addressing the Insurgency was a very bad sign.

"The 909 Council has been laid low today," Ismael continued, "but we cannot grow complacent. We must take this opportunity to strike again, where they are weakest. We will cut their supply lines. We will sink their ships. We will derail their trains. We will undo the damage they have caused and make our world whole again."

Ismael stood up from the table he was sitting at and walked off-screen. When he returned, he was holding a sledgehammer. Ivan felt a sense of dread wash over him as Ismael raised the hammer above his head.

"There is only one response fitting for fascists and tyrants, brothers and sisters. Our vengeance."

Ismael brought the hammer down on a small jade jar on the table, shattering it and causing a blast of light and sound to erupt from it. When the smoke cleared, Ismael was still standing there, his eyes fixed on the camera.

"I know you're watching, Ivan," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "This is the world you built. These are your towers. Your planes. These deaths are on your hands. I am your Crimson Vanguard. I am what you were too craven to do. You can sit there in the fortress that you should have burned to the ground, but you should not feel safe in it."

Ivan felt a shiver run down his spine. Ismael was right - he had made mistakes. He had tried to do the right thing, but it had all gone so horribly wrong.

"I don't understand, Ivan. I've never understood," Ismael continued, his voice growing louder. "I trusted you. We trusted you. Darren, myself, Saunders, and Sofia…"

Ismael trailed off, slamming his fist against the wall in frustration. "You're a coward. You're a traitor. And I will make you suffer every day of the rest of your life for what you've done."

Ismael extended his arms out to his sides. "I am Vengeance. I am Wrath."

The screen went dark, but the room was filled with a palpable sense of unease. Ivan knew that Ismael was just getting started.

The room was silent, save for the sound of Ivan's heavy breathing. His hands were shaking, and he could feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He knew that the end was near, and that he and the rest of the Council members were vulnerable. The Foundation Overseers had always been one step ahead of them, always a little more prepared, a little more powerful.

Suddenly, the sound of a car outside shattered the quiet. Ivan tensed, and he could see the same fear mirrored in the eyes of the others. They all knew what this meant — the end of the line.

Aurora, the Vassal, was the first to move. She stepped forward and opened the reinforced door, peering outside cautiously. The grass was black and the remains of shattered glass and concrete littered the ground. She stepped forward onto the grass, and Ivan could hear the sound of shattering glass beneath her foot, it had shattered to a million fragments of its former self.

He watched in disbelief as she ignored the glass and peered forward to see a Humvee parked outside. A man sat inside, his features obscured by the shadows. Aurora nodded, and the man ordered for them to follow.

They stepped out of the bunker and made their way towards the Humvee, Aurora in the lead. As they approached, the door slid open, and Aurora caught her first glimpse of the man inside. He was Caucasian, with Nordic features and a warm smile. It was Tristan, the Humanitarian.

Aurora let out a sigh of relief, and Ivan felt the tension in his muscles begin to release. "It's safe, Ivan," she announced, and he followed her into the Humvee. They drove away from the ruined landscape beneath them.

Tristan and Ivan drove through the night, taking turns behind the wheel while Jean, Antonina, and Aurora slept in the back seat. They remained silent until they arrived at their destination, a small inn in a remote town on the edge of the forest, a few miles away from the main road. They stopped at a petrol station and Tristan went inside to meet their contact. It was morning, and they were exhausted from their journey.

The agent they met in a burning city near France had given them a map, a key, and a notecard with a room number on it. Tristan used the key to unlock the door of the designated room on the second floor, trying not to make a sound.

As he stepped inside, he heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked. He froze, waiting for the shooter to speak.

“Does the Black Moon howl?” the voice behind the gun asked.

“Only when the Sun needs a reminder of the darkness,” Tristan responded.

The room was dark, save for a sliver of light peeking through the thin blinds of the window. A desk lamp flickered on, illuminating David Hunter, the Molter, sitting on a chair with a gun in his hand. His forehead was slick with sweat, and he let out a sigh of relief when he recognized Tristan.

“Thank God it's you,” Hunter said. “I don’t think I could pull the trigger on anyone, to be honest. I'm glad it's you. You look like you’ve been through hell.”

Tristan was surprised to see Hunter there, of all people, in the room. "What are you doing here, Hunter? Was there no one else you could send?"

Hunter grimaced. "I may have been out of the game for a while, but I can still get the job done. Besides, I have some important information for you. Our sources indicate that Insurgency troops are landing on a beach near where you and the Council just came from. They're saying it's to quell the rebellion, but the numbers don't match their intentions.”

Tristan remembered the bombers they had seen the previous night. “That explains the military presence we saw last night. What else do you know?”

“There's another ship in the group that doesn't match any Navy ship on record. Our sources believe it might be the Scranton or the Wormwood, but either way, it's flying an Insurgency flag. That can only mean one thing,” Hunter said.

“Ismael Cohen,” Tristan said, nodding in understanding.

“They're trying to smoke you out, Tristan. We can get you out of here, but where's Ivan and the rest of the Council?” Hunter asked.

“They're in the Humvee outside,” Tristan replied. “Ivan, come in here.”

Ivan walked into the room, and Hunter greeted him with a smile. “Does the Black Moon howl?”

“It's the only thing that howls,” Ivan replied.

“It's good to see you again, Ivan. You've done an amazing job so far, but this is different. This is a hammer, and you're the nail,” Hunter said, his tone serious.

Ivan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We might get a shot at this later, after you finish your other tasks. Right now, you have a military division a few hours away, and you're not going to be able to take them on alone. We're no good to anyone dead,” Hunter said.

Ivan hesitated for a moment, considering his options.

“There’s one more thing, Ivan. We have agents who have evidence of a secure container being moved out of one of our sites that was recently raided and onto that ship. Whatever is in there, they’re no doubt planning on weaponizing it.”

“If you were me, what would you do?” Ivan said.

Hunter laughed. "Fortunately for both of us, I'm not you, Ivan. But if it were me, I wouldn't be here. You have a military division a few hours away, and we're no good to us dead."

Hunter leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the wooden table. "Let me tell you something, Ivan," he said, his voice low and serious. "You're in a bad spot. Real bad. There's no way you can take on this army head-to-head, and even sneaking around might not do you any good. These guys have been rooting out people from holes in the Middle East for the past four decades. They'll find you."

He paused, his gaze flickering over to Tristan for a moment before returning to Ivan. "I once met a guy named Ismael Cohen. Might have been the same one you're after, might not have been. But let me tell you, that guy was the most arrogant, braggadocious son of a bitch I've ever met. He talked like he was the man who sought vengeance upon you himself."

Hunter chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe he did, who knows. But I don't think you can beat him by being smart, Ivan. You've got to force him to make a mistake."

Ivan and Tristan exchanged a look, then nodded. "Maybe," Ivan said. "But we can't just walk away from this. We're not going to get another shot at him, and if we don't take him out now, things are only going to get harder."

Hunter stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "I agree. And I can't think of anyone better suited for the job than you two."

As they made their way to the door, Ivan opened it slowly. Hunter shot him a look, and he shrugged apologetically. "Didn't want to wake anyone up."

Hunter laughed. "Don't worry about it. The whole town is empty. They knew what was coming and cleared out last night."

Outside, the sun was just starting to rise, casting a hazy glow over the trees. Antonina, Jean, and Aurora were already up, and the rest of the team was sitting in the back seat of the jeep. When Antonina saw Ivan and Tristan, she did an abrupt double take.

Hunter turned to face the three operatives. "Antonina, Jean, Aurora, I need you to go ahead and scout the area. Make sure there aren't any surprises waiting for us. And be careful. This whole town may be empty, but that doesn't mean it's safe."

The three nodded and quickly set off, their weapons at the ready. Ivan and Tristan climbed into the jeep with the others, and Hunter took the driver's seat.

"Alright," Hunter said as he turned the key in the ignition, "let's move out. We've got a job to do."

The Humvee rumbled to life, and they set off down the road, the sun slowly rising behind them. Tristan couldn't help but feel a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. He had been on plenty of missions before, but this one felt different. The stakes were higher, and the enemy was more dangerous.

As they drove, he couldn't help but wonder if they were making a mistake. Was it really worth it to go after Ismael? But then he looked over at Ivan, who sat beside him, his expression determined and focused. Ivan knew that Tristan wouldn't back down, no matter how difficult the task.

They drove for several hours, the landscape changing from dense forests to rolling hills. Eventually, they reached the outskirts of a small village. Hunter brought the jeep to a stop, and they all piled out, weapons at the ready.

They made their way through the deserted streets, their footsteps echoing off the empty buildings. Suddenly, they heard a noise up ahead. Hunter held up a hand, and they all froze in place.

After a moment, they heard it again. This time, it sounded like footsteps. Ivan's heart was pounding in his chest as they cautiously approached the source of the noise.

As they turned a corner, they came face to face with a group of armed men. Hunter didn't hesitate. He raised his weapon and fired, and the others followed suit. The gunfire echoed through the streets as they battled their way through the enemy forces.

Finally, they reached the center of the village, where they found Ismael and his inner circle waiting for them. The two sides stared at each other for a long moment, neither willing to make the first move.

Then, without warning, Ismael raised his weapon and fired.

---

- BACK -


- CONTINUATION -