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IN THE 1900s
— - —
Bullets flew through the air as Ivan and his team quickly took cover behind the nearest buildings. Hunter pulled out a large revolver, aiming carefully at Ismael's group. The sound of gunfire echoed throughout the quiet village, shattering windows and causing the ground to shake.
Ivan gritted his teeth and looked around at his team. They were outnumbered, outgunned, but they had no choice but to fight. They had to eliminate Ismael and his group to prevent them from causing any more harm.
Suddenly, a group of Chaos Insurgency soldiers burst onto the scene, attacking both Ivan's team and Ismael's group. The two sides paused their fighting to take on the new threat, their hatred for the Chaos Insurgency uniting them momentarily.
Hunter stood tall, firing his revolver with deadly accuracy, taking out the Insurgency soldiers one by one. Ivan and his team fought fiercely, their training and experience coming to the forefront as they battled against the enemy.
Amidst the chaos and carnage, Ivan caught sight of Ismael. The man was shouting orders to his soldiers, his face twisted in anger and determination. Ivan knew that this was his chance. He raised his weapon and took careful aim, blocking out the sounds of the battle around him.
The moment seemed to stretch on forever as Ivan held his breath, waiting for the perfect shot. Then, he squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew straight and true, hitting Ismael in the chest and taking him down.
The battle slowly came to a halt as Ivan's team and Ismael's group realized that their leader had fallen. The Chaos Insurgency soldiers took advantage of the momentary confusion and slipped away into the shadows.
Ivan let out a deep breath and lowered his weapon, his heart still pounding with adrenaline. He looked around at the destruction and devastation around him, knowing that this was only the beginning. There would be more battles to come, more enemies to face. But for now, they had won. They had eliminated a dangerous threat to the Foundation and saved countless lives in the process.
As the dust settled and the gunfire ceased, Ivan, Tristan, and Hunter made their way back to the Humvee. Unbeknownst to them, Ismael had survived the attack and was now hiding in the shadows, waiting for his opportunity to strike.
Inside the vehicle, the Council members were in a state of shock. Jean was shaking violently, Antonina had draped a blanket over him in an attempt to calm him down. Calvin's eyes had turned a pale shade, indicating his state of shock. Even Francisco, The Historical Archivist, was looking out of the window with a confused expression on his face.
As Ivan climbed into the driver's seat, he glanced over at Hunter. "We have to go back," he said.
Hunter nodded. "Agreed. But we need to be smart about this. Ismael won't go down easily."
Tristan spoke up from the back seat. "We need a plan. We can't just rush in there blindly."
Ivan thought for a moment, his mind racing. "We need to draw him out," he said finally. "Force him to make a move."
"But how do we do that?" asked Hunter.
Ivan looked at him, determination in his eyes. "We make ourselves a target. We let him come to us."
Hunter's voice cut through the silence. "That's a risky move," he said, his gaze fixed on Ivan. He hesitated for a moment before finally nodding in agreement.
Jean was still trembling, confusion writ large on his face. "Mr… what's your name sir?" he asked tentatively.
Hunter turned to face him, his expression softening. "It's David Hunter. Yes, Jean?" he asked kindly.
Jean swallowed nervously before blurting out his questions. "Why are you here? And what happened outside?"
Hunter let out a heavy sigh before offering an explanation. "We had a run-in with Ismael. I'm sure Ivan has told you about him," he said, casting a sidelong glance at Ivan. "Right, Ivan?"
Ivan nodded slowly, his eyes downcast. "Ismael was once a friend of mine. We worked together against our rivals, but he left us after I accidentally killed the Administrator," he said, his face twisted in a grimace.
Jean couldn't believe his ears. The man was none other than David Hunter, the Union Brigadier General of the American Civil War. He had heard rumors about Hunter's involvement with the Council, but he never expected to meet him in person.
"Are you a—" Jean began to ask, but he was quickly cut off by Hunter.
"Yes, a Union Brigadier General in the American Civil War, why?" Hunter interjected, seeming almost annoyed.
Jean was taken aback by Hunter's abrupt response. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "I'm sorry, I just…didn't expect to meet someone like you in the Council."
Hunter let out a deep sigh. "I know, I know. It's a bit surreal, isn't it? But I've been with the Council for almost sixty years now. Ivan gave me the codename when I joined back in 1912. It was his way of mocking me," he explained, shooting a sidelong glance at Ivan.
Ivan chuckled silently, clearly amused by the memory. Hunter rolled his eyes before turning back to Jean. "And yes, I'm also known as the Molter. Thanks to Ivan," he added with a hint of sarcasm.
Jean nodded slowly, still trying to process everything. He couldn't believe he was sitting in a Humvee with a legendary Union General and one of the most powerful members of the Council.
Aurora, still groggy from her nap, broke the heavy silence that had settled over the group. "So, where are we headed? Did Ismael's gang retreat;?" she asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
"Yes, they did," Hunter replied, his voice low and gruff. "We're headed to another site, not the one that exploded."
"Site-12D?" Aurora guessed. "That's the one that exploded, right? Where are we going then?"
"We're headed to Site-11. It's quite a distance away from Dhaka," Tristan informed her.
Aurora nodded and turned her attention to Calvin, who was slumped against the window, his eyes staring blankly ahead. "How long has it been? I feel like I've lost track of time," she asked.
"It's July 1st, 1974," Ivan answered.
The group fell back into silence, broken only by the low hum of the Humvee's engine as they drove deeper into the wilderness. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, still reeling from the events of the past few hours.
The Humvee rumbled down the road towards Site-11, Ivan couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. He knew that Ismael's defection to the Chaos Insurgency had been a major blow to their operations, and the recent explosion at Site-12D had only added to his concerns.
"We need to be careful," Ivan said, breaking the silence. "Ismael may have been defeated, but the Insurgency is still out there, and they won't stop until they've destroyed everything we've built."
Tristan nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "We'll be ready for them," he said. "We always have been."
Hunter leaned forward from the back seat. "We should focus on rebuilding our forces," he said. "Recruit more agents, gather more resources. We need to be prepared for whatever comes next."
Aurora looked at Hunter, her eyes filled with concern. "But what about the people who were at Site-12D?" she asked. "What are we going to do for them?"
Ivan sighed heavily. "We'll do what we can," he said. "But our priority right now is to protect the rest of our sites, and to make sure that this doesn't happen again."
The group fell silent once more, lost in their own thoughts and worries as the Humvee continued its journey. They knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but they were determined to persevere, no matter what the Insurgency threw at them.
As they drove, the sun began to set, casting a golden light across the landscape. Ivan watched as the world outside the window slowly faded into darkness, his mind racing with all that had happened and all that was yet to come.
The road stretched on ahead of them, seemingly endless, but they kept driving, each mile taking them closer to the next chapter in their never-ending battle against the forces of darkness.
The Humvee finally grinded to a halt after what felt like an eternity of driving. The Council members slowly emerged from the vehicle, each one taking their time to stretch their legs and take in their surroundings. The desolate land of Bangladesh stretched out before them, with the lone building of Site-11 looming in the distance.
Tristan was the first to exit, followed closely by Ivan and Hunter. Calvin, who had been slumped against the window, also exited, while Jean, Aurora, Antonina and Hudson soon followed suit. Francisco, however, seemed frozen in place.
"Are you all right, Francisco?" Aurora asked.
Francisco suddenly shook his head rapidly and turned to Aurora, nodding. He had been zoning out for a moment. Then, he finally exited the Humvee.
As they approached the doors of Site-11, they suddenly opened as if by magic. Inside, they saw four armed guards waiting for them. Ivan called out to them, addressing them by name: "Irantu, Munru, Nanku, Onru. It's good to see you once again."
The four guards nodded in unison, but Jean couldn't help but notice something odd about them. They didn't look entirely human. Instead, they appeared to be some sort of cyborg clones.
"Are they… humans?" Jean asked, his confusion evident.
"They are four cyborgs made from cloned bodies derived from the flesh of a dead god," Ivan explained matter-of-factly.
Jean stared blankly, clearly taken aback by Ivan's response. The other Council members, however, seemed unfazed. They had known these guards since the time they were created.
As they stepped through the door, the group found themselves in a heavily damaged room. The walls were scorched and broken, the ceiling barely holding up. Hunter turned to one of the four cyborg clones.
"Irantu, do you know what happened?" Hunter asked, his voice echoing through the empty space.
The cyborg clones emerged from the shadows, lifted up from the pool by long metal arms that whirred quietly as they worked. They carried metallic plates, long lengths of wire and tubing, and racks of ammunition over to the figures, across whom glowing lines of superheated metal appeared as they squirmed silently.
The foremost figure, a bald humanoid male in flexible armor, nodded. “We do.”
"The Voidweaver has broken into this site," It said in its robotic voice. "He stole various artifacts before getting subdued."
Hunter let out a weary sigh, while Ivan was taken aback from the response. The situation seemed to be escalating, and they needed to be prepared for any possibility.
The Council, or what was left of it, walked down the decrepit and twisted hallways of Site-11. Jean struggled to gain control of his new polymorphic abilities while Ivan and Hunter guided the way. They traversed through numerous rooms, most of which were barren except for a solitary black telephone at the end of the hallway.
Ivan paid no heed to it even as it rang, which it did, much to Jean's apprehension. Nevertheless, they continued to follow Ivan until they arrived at a metal door, rusted and unused since the site's inception over thirteen years ago. Without hesitation, they pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room they entered was an office, but not just any office. It was the original office of the early 909 Council, the five founding members who established the Council in its infancy. The room was small and cramped, with only five chairs arranged in a circle. Each chair represented one of the founding members: Hudson, Francisco, Antonina, Ivan, and the Administrator.
The other members of the Council, Aurora, Tristan, Hunter, and Calvin, were all present as well, along with the newest member, Jean. Ivan sat in the center of the circle of chairs, with the other founding members taking their respective seats. The only empty seat was next to Hudson, a constant reminder of the Administrator's death at the hands of Ivan's uncontrollable powers.
The room was quiet, with only the sound of shuffling feet and the rustling of clothes breaking the silence. The weight of history hung heavily in the air, as if the very walls themselves were remembering the Council's long and storied past.
The silence in the room was palpable as the Council members stood frozen, unsure of what to say or do. That was until Jean's body began to shift once again, the sensation like a thousand needles and yarn etching into his flesh. The transformation was so sudden and complete that Ivan and the others could only watch in a mix of amazement and horror as Jean's French suit and black hair turned into a green shirt with ginger hair.
His eyes shifted from blue to hazel, and a green hat now sat perched on his head. The eight other members looked at Jean incredulously, with no mirror to be found, he seemed concerned as Ivan, Antonina, Francisco, and most of them watched him worriedly. Hunter, on the other hand, was horrified. Ivan had failed to mention to him about Jean's situation, and now he was watching the transformation unfold before his very eyes.
"What the fuck happened, Ivan?" Hunter asked.
"He became a polymorph," Ivan replied calmly.
Hunter raised an eyebrow, "Why didn't you tell me that we had an anomaly here?"
"No, Hunter," Ivan interjected. "He's just gaining control over his powers. He's not dangerous."
"He better not be," Hunter said, clenching his fists. "Because if that son of a bitch gets dangerous, I'm retiring."
Thankfully, Jean's body returned to normal, and he appeared groggy and disoriented in his blue Frenchman outfit with straight black hair. The Council members continued to stare at him, unsure of what to say or do next.
Jean sat down on the empty chair, looking pale and sickly. Ivan, Hunter, and the council members stood around him, looking concerned.
"What happened, Jean?" Ivan asked.
Jean looked up at him, his eyes still hazel. "I don't know. It felt like something was trying to take over my body."
"Did you feel any pain?" Antonina asked.
Jean shook his head. "No, just… discomfort. And confusion. I couldn't control anything."
Ivan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It sounds like your powers are still evolving. We need to find a way to help you control them."
Jean nodded weakly. "Please, I don't want to hurt anyone."
"You won't," Ivan assured him. "We'll make sure of that."
Just then, a loud explosion shook the room. Everyone instinctively grabbed for their weapons as the metal door was blasted off its hinges. Through the smoke and debris stepped a figure in a black hooded robe, wielding a glowing red staff.
The council members recognized the figure immediately. "It's the Voidweaver!" Hudson shouted.
Hunter raised his gun. "Freeze! Drop your weapon!"
The Voidweaver laughed, his voice echoing in the small room. "Foolish mortals. You cannot stop me. I have come for what I seek."
"And what's that?" Ivan demanded.
The Voidweaver raised his staff. "The Key to the Gate. And you will give it to me, or suffer the consequences."
Ivan stood his ground, his eyes locked onto the Voidweaver before him. He held the artifact tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white from the strain. "No," he repeated firmly. "I will not give it to you. Look at the damage you have done. Who knows what else you have done to us and the Foundation."
The Voidweaver's response was a twisted, mirthless laugh. Ivan tensed, ready for any sudden movements. But then, to his surprise, Irantu and the other cyborg clone emerged from the shadows behind the Insurgent. Irantu's metallic fist connected with the back of the Voidweaver's head, sending him sprawling onto the ground.
As the Voidweaver struggled to get back up, the four cyborgs emerged fully into the light. Two of them were female, one carrying a lit flamethrower and the other a long rifle. The other two were male, one of them carrying what appeared to be a minigun fed by a long chain of bullets from a pack on his back. The four of them eyed the Voidweaver in unison, and began running towards him.
Ivan watched as the cyborgs descended upon the Voidweaver, their weapons blazing. He knew that the situation was under control now, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him. What else could be lurking in the shadows of this damaged site, waiting to strike at the heart of the Council?
Irantu's grip on the Voidweaver's hood tightened as he dragged him towards the female with the flamethrower. The Voidweaver reached for a gun in his pocket and shot the female in the head, but she quickly recovered and loaded up the flamethrower. Meanwhile, the female with the rifle opened fire on the Voidweaver, who had dropped his staff in the process. As he picked it back up, a deafening pop echoed through the room, followed by a blinding blast of fire from the flamethrower.
The room was illuminated in a flash of heat and light, causing the 909 Council members to scramble towards the exit. The flames consumed everything in their path, scorching the walls and ceiling of the cavern and sending smoke and ash billowing into the air. The female spun the flamethrower around her head, creating a flaming maelstrom that filled the entire chamber.
The Voidweaver ducked behind a pillar, trying to avoid the onslaught of bullets from the minigun wielded by one of the males. Hunter and the Council members flooded into an empty room, but their escape was cut off as the door caught fire from the flames. Hunter fired wildly at the Voidweaver, trying to keep him at bay as the rest of the group searched for another way out.
The Voidweaver stumbled backwards, his vision a blur of darkness and pain. He had barely lifted his staff before the rifle shot twice at his eyes, leaving him severely blinded. Irantu, Munru, Nanku, and Onru watched as six black vortexes appeared behind them, each one spilling out a replica of the Voidweaver.
The Council members frantically dodged the hail of bullets, Ivan catching glimpses of the gruesome battle taking place behind them. The female with the flamethrower lifted the Voidweaver into the air, the weapon's flames dancing dangerously close to his face. Meanwhile, the larger man had yanked a steel support pillar from the wall and used it to skewer two of his foes.
"Down! Stay down!" Irantu hissed at the Council members.
A bullet ricocheted off a nearby metal desk, and Francisco saw the long-rifle-wielding assailant slowly walking towards the Voidweaver, firing with deadly accuracy. The other three cyborg clones prepared to take off once again.
As they cowered behind cover, a black phone at the end of the hallway began to ring. The sound echoed through the chamber, each ring louder and more urgent than the last.
The sound of the ringing phone echoed through the chamber, causing the Voidweaver to stumble as he tried to clear his burnt face. Ivan and the Council members rose to their feet, watching as Irantu delivered a brutal kick to the Voidweaver's groin, eliciting a devilish scream. In response, nine black vortexes appeared, each revealing a tall figure cloaked in purple robes. Around their necks, each figure wore a necklace made of a dead shapeshifter's finger. But just as suddenly as they appeared, the phone stopped ringing.
Irantu seized the Voidweaver by his robe, holding his head steady with one hand. With the other, he drew a slim black hatchet from his belt and held it out in front of him. The Voidweaver's eyes bulged in terror, and he began to gurgle like a drowning man. Without hesitation, Irantu brought the hatchet down into the Voidweaver's skull with a sickening crunch. He raised it up again and brought it down a second time, splitting the skull open. Blood and brains spilled onto the floor as Irantu tore the skull in two with his bare hands. The Voidweaver's body convulsed on the ground for a few moments before falling still. The room grew silent, except for the roar of flames.
Jean's breaths came in ragged gasps as one of the figures approached him, but the sound of a jeep's engine cut through the air, interrupting the silence. The Council turned to see Tristan's Humvee racing away from the scene. Tristan shouted and gestured frantically, but the vehicle disappeared into the distance. Ivan's heart raced in his chest. Suddenly, the distinct whirring of a minigun filled the air. A hail of bullets streaked across the flaming room, tearing into the purple-robed figures. The man holding the minigun tracked three of them with deadly accuracy, and only when they fell, did he release the trigger.
Ivan's heart was pounding in his chest as he surveyed the charred remains of Site-11. The flames had spread quickly, and the exit was blocked by a wall of fire. He knew they had to get out of there, and fast.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and the ceiling began to collapse around them. Ivan watched in amazement as a black helicopter emblazoned with the SCP Foundation seal descended from the smoke-filled sky. He couldn't believe it — the Foundation had come to their aid.
As the operatives secured the area, Ivan and the other Council members were quickly escorted onto the helicopter. He watched as the Foundation moved in to contain the breach, wondering if they would ever know the truth of what had transpired.
But Ivan was determined to find out. He couldn't shake the feeling that something much larger was at play here. As they lifted off, he saw a lone figure in the distance, watching them from the shadows.
The Council members looked over the remains of Site-11, while Irantu, Munru, Nanku, and Onru saluted the helicopter in unison. Ivan knew they had narrowly escaped death, but he was determined to uncover the secrets of the Voidweaver, no matter the cost.
As the helicopter flew off into the night sky, Ivan made a vow to himself: he would find out the truth behind the Voidweaver, and he would make sure that the Council and the Foundation were prepared for whatever was coming next.
The roar of the helicopter's engines filled the air as the Council members sat in silence, their minds racing with thoughts of the recent events. "I can't believe it," Aurora whispered, barely audible over the noise. "We were so close to being killed."
Hudson nodded, his hand clutching his chest as if trying to calm his racing heart. "The Voidweaver," he muttered. "I never thought I'd see him in person. To think he was capable of such atrocities."
As Irantu led the Foundation agents to the site, Ivan heard a ringing phone coming from inside the building. The seasoned operative ripped the phone out of the wall and smashed it into the ground, shattering it into a million pieces. Suddenly, a black smoke emerged from the shattered phone, unknowingly releasing a soul. The black smoke flew away and up towards the helicopter with the Council on it. Just as the smoke approached them, a phone rang from inside the helicopter, but it stopped after a short six seconds.
Antonina frowned. "What I don't understand is who those purple-robed figures were," she said, her eyes narrowing in thought. "And why were they carrying the finger of a dead shapeshifter?"
Jean, the newest member of the Council and recent polymorph, looked visibly shaken. Tristan, the liaison to the Foundation, had been quiet up until now, but Ivan could see the gears turning in his head. "I'll reach out to my contacts within the Foundation," he said finally. "We'll get to the bottom of this."
Hunter was unfamiliar with the Council's partnership with the Foundation, looked on in confusion.
As the helicopter flew farther away from Site-11, Ivan made a decision. "We need to get to the bottom of this," he said firmly. "We can't let something like this happen again."
The other Council members nodded in agreement, a shared sense of determination washing over them.
The memory of Irantu violently tearing the Voidweaver's skull into two was still fresh in Jean's mind. It had been a necessary act, one that had saved the lives of the Council. But it had also been a reminder of just how dangerous the world could be. But Antonina's reassuring hand on his shoulder helped to ground him.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft.
Jean nodded, his eyes still wide. "I just…I can't believe what I just saw."
Antonina nodded in understanding. "Believe it or not, this isn't the first time I've seen something like this. The Foundation deals with things like this all the time."
Jean frowned, "But who was that? And those purple-robed figures?"
Antonina sighed, "I don't know. But one thing's for sure, we need to find out. We can't afford to let this kind of thing happen again."
Jean nodded, still feeling uneasy. He had only recently become a polymorph and was still getting used to the strange and terrifying world of anomalies.
As the helicopter flew further away from Site-11, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. The Voidweaver was dead, but at what cost? And who were those mysterious figures in purple robes?
Antonina placed a reassuring hand on Jean's shoulder once again. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Jean. I promise."
As the helicopter made its descent onto the Foundation's sprawling compound, Ivan felt a sense of unease creep over him. The truth was out there, somewhere, waiting to be discovered. But the road to uncovering it was uncertain and treacherous.
Ivan knew that the purple-robed figures they had encountered at Site-11 were just the tip of the iceberg. There were forces at work in the world that even the Foundation and the 909 Council were not equipped to handle.
But he also knew that they could not afford to give up. The stakes were too high, and the cost of failure was too great. With a deep breath, he stepped off the helicopter and onto the tarmac, ready to face whatever lay ahead.
Ivan emerged from the helicopter, his eyes squinting in the bright sun. The heat and humidity were oppressive, and the smell of diesel hung heavy in the air. He scanned the surroundings, taking in the chaotic scene of the tarmac.
But as he turned to address the Council, he realized that one of their own was missing. Hunter had vanished without a word, leaving Ivan with a growing sense of unease.
"Where's Hunter?" he asked, furrowing his brow.
Antonina's expression mirrored his concern. "I don't see him," she said, her voice low.
Jean shrugged. "I didn't even notice him leave," he admitted.
Ivan's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. Could Hunter have been compromised? Was he a threat to the mission?
"Ah, to hell with him," Ivan said, shaking his head. "We can't worry about him now. Let's focus on the task at hand."
A Foundation agent descended from the helicopter, addressing the Council members. "Follow me, Consulates," he said, leading them away from the chaos of the tarmac and towards a sleek, modern building.
As they walked, Ivan took note of the clean and orderly surroundings. Unlike the chaos and destruction of Site-11, this facility was pristine and showed no signs of damage.
The agent led them through a series of corridors and security checkpoints, until they arrived at a conference room. Inside, a man in a sharp suit was waiting for them.
"Welcome to the Bangladesh Site," he said, his voice cool and professional. "I am Dr. Rahman, and I will be your liaison during your stay here."
Dr. Rahman greeted the Consulates as they entered the clean, nondescript facility. Tristan greeted him warmly, shaking his hand.
"It's good to see you once again, Dr. Rahman," he said. "Likewise, Mr. Fischer."
Rahman turned to Ivan, recognizing him as the most powerful person on the planet, second only to the Foundation Overseers.
"So, what do you know about the Voidweaver?" he asked.
"We saw it appear in front of us after Jean transformed due to his polymorphic abilities again. It wore a black hood obscuring its face," Ivan explained.
Tristan interjected, eager to share what he knew. "Irantu and the other three cyborg clones fought him. Irantu killed the Voidweaver when he pulled out a black hatchet and swung at his skull. He tore his skull into tw—"
Antonina interrupted him. "And he made vortexes appear which made purple hooded figures appear with a shapeshifter's finger on their neck."
Rahman nodded, taking notes as he listened. "Irantu… that name sounds familiar… Samsara? The task force?"
Ivan nodded. "Yes, we made the Task Force from the flesh of a dead God."
Rahman's eyes widened. "We also have the same task force here at the Foundation. That's really impressive on how you managed to recreate our task force."
Ivan smiled at the recognition.
"But back to the matter at hand," Rahman said, refocusing the conversation. "These purple-robed figures… do you have any idea what they could be?"
Ivan shook his head. "None at all. But we intend to find out."
The group continued to discuss their next steps, exchanging ideas and theories as they worked to uncover the truth behind the mysterious figures and their connection to the Voidweaver.
Dr. Rahman continued. "What did they say you said about these… purple-robed figures again?"
"They appeared when Irantu kicked the Voidweaver's groin." Ivan said. "They all wore a necklace with a finger of a deceased shapeshifter."
Rahman nodded and took notes, while Jean sits alone staring into the darkness of the roof.
Dr. Rahman leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen against his chin. "Interesting," he said, "it sounds like these figures may be linked to some kind of shapeshifter cult. We'll need to look into this further."
As he spoke, Jean's mind wandered, his thoughts consumed by what he had witnessed back at Site-11. He couldn't shake the image of Irantu tearing apart the Voidweaver, the violence and brutality of it all. And then there were the purple-robed figures, their strange appearance and ominous presence leaving him with a feeling of unease.
But he couldn't let his fear consume him, not now. There was too much at stake, too much to be uncovered. With a deep breath, he pushed aside his thoughts and refocused on the conversation at hand.
"What's our next move?" he asked, looking to Ivan.
Ivan leaned forward, his expression serious. "We need to investigate these purple-robed figures, find out who they are and what they want. And we need to do it quickly, before they strike again."
Rahman nodded in agreement. "I'll have my team start digging into any information we have on shapeshifters and cults. We'll work together to get to the bottom of this."
Jean nodded, feeling a sense of determination building within him. They had faced countless threats before, and they would face this one too.
As the group continued their discussion, Jean noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see a familiar figure walking down the hallway, dressed in a green pantsuit. It was Green — the woman who had taught him so much about the Foundation and the 909 Council.
Jean couldn't believe his eyes. He had been told that Green had returned to the Foundation after a call with Aaron Siegel, but he never expected to see her here, now.
Green adjusted her blonde hair and peered into a glass door before noticing the group of Council members. Jean felt a shiver run down his spine as she made eye contact with him. He knew that Green was one of the Overseers.
Green gracefully opened the door, catching the attention of everyone in the room. The 909 Council members looked on as she entered, a sense of familiarity washing over them. "Hello there, Consulates! I'm so sorry for interrupting your session Dr. Rahman." Rahman nods in understanding.
"That's alright, Ma'am," Rahman responds politely before Green notices Jean, a smile spreading across her face.
"Jean, My dear! How's it going, sugar?" She asked Jean, her rich accent giving her words a melodic quality. "It's going great, Ms. Green," Jean responded with a mixture of surprise and delight.
Green smiles at him, Jean smiled back as Ivan watched on.
"Good to hear!" her rich tone becoming more noticeable.
"Until later gentlemen. Toodles!" she says before leaving the room.
Green's departure from the room left a brief silence as the Consulates returned their focus to Dr. Rahman.
"Now then," Rahman said, "let's continue our discussion on the Voidweaver and these purple-robed figures."
Ivan nodded, eager to contribute. "It's clear that they're connected somehow. We just need to figure out how."
Rahman flipped through his notes, deep in thought. "There are a number of possibilities. They could have summoned the Insurgent, or played a role in its creation."
Jean's mind raced with possibilities, and he found himself eagerly anticipating what other secrets the Foundation might hold.
"We'll need to investigate further," Rahman said with finality.
Ivan smiled in agreement. "Consider it done."
As the Consulates discussed logistics, Jean sat back and watched, eager to see what new discoveries they would make.
Then, the clock struck at 12:00 PM, Dr. Rahman rose from his seat, signaling the end of the session. The 909 Consulates followed suit, nodding in agreement. As they exited the parlor, Jean lagged behind, still preoccupied with controlling his polymorphic abilities.
Ivan and Antonina led the way, followed by the other Council members. The oppressive heat and humidity of Bangladesh made Ivan squint, but he pressed on, focused on the task at hand. Meanwhile, Jean continued to practice his abilities, determined to master them.
As they reached the outside of the site, they saw the same black helicopter that had rescued them from Site-11. The pilot ordered them to follow, and Ivan and Antonina were the first to enter, eager to leave the sweltering heat behind. Hudson, Francisco, Calvin, Aurora, and Tristan quickly followed suit.
Jean was the last to board, taking a deep breath before stepping into the helicopter. As they took off, he couldn't help but wonder what new challenges lay ahead.
The journey was arduous, the Consulates silently contemplating the events that had just transpired. The only sound was the rhythmic thumping of the helicopter's rotors.
Eventually, they touched down in a desolate area outside Dhaka. As they disembarked from the aircraft, their eyes were drawn to the imposing structure before them. It was one of the 909 Council's sites, Site-84.
The building loomed over them, a stark reminder of the power and reach of the Council. Jean couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear as he gazed up at the towering structure. He was still new to this world, still learning about the horrors that lurked in the shadows.
Ivan, however, seemed unfazed. He strode confidently towards the entrance of the facility, Antonina and the rest of the Council following in his wake.
Jean took a deep breath and followed, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. As they crossed the threshold into Site-84, he couldn't help but wonder what secrets this place held.
Jean felt a sense of unease settle over him. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about this place felt off. The other Consulates seemed unfazed, but Jean couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap.
They entered the building and were greeted by a team of security personnel. Ivan and Antonina took the lead, speaking with the guards and presenting their identification. Jean looked around the lobby, taking in the sterile surroundings and the strict security measures.
As they made their way deeper into the facility, Jean began to notice that there was something different about this site compared to the others he had visited. It wasn't just the increased security, or the way the guards watched them with wary eyes. There was an underlying tension that hung in the air like a thick fog.
Finally, they arrived at their destination — a large conference room filled with technology Jean had never seen before. The walls were lined with screens and computer monitors, each displaying streams of data and surveillance footage.
"Welcome to Site-84," Ivan said, gesturing towards the room. "This is where we'll be conducting our investigation."
Jean took a deep breath, his mind racing with questions. What had they stumbled upon? What were they looking for? And most importantly - why did he feel like something terrible was about to happen?
Nevertheless, Jean sat nervously in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the 909 Council members. Ivan sat across from him, his expression serious yet sympathetic.
"We're here to discuss your new abilities," Ivan began, his voice measured. "We need to understand what happened and how we can help you control them."
Jean took a deep breath, his mind racing with memories of the incident. "I remember when Ms. Green left the room," he began. "Suddenly, I felt this strange energy coursing through my body. And then I looked in the mirror and I was someone else entirely."
Ivan nodded, his eyes never leaving Jean's. "We understand this must be difficult for you," he said. "But we're here to support you and help you master your powers."
Jean felt a sense of relief wash over him. He knew that he could count on the Council to guide him through this challenging time.
Jean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes flickering between Ivan and the other council members. The discussion of his newfound abilities was making him nervous.
"You remember our call with O5-11?" Ivan asked, breaking the silence. "An Overseer within the Foundation who's also a polymorph?"
Jean nodded slowly, recalling the conversation. "Yes, I do. The Liar told me to not harm anyone or myself."
The rest of the council members nodded in agreement, except for Calvin, who seemed to be lost in thought, picking at his fingernail.
Aurora noticed his distraction and shot him a quick glance. "Oh, sorry Ivan," Calvin muttered, refocusing his attention on the conversation at hand. Ivan simply nodded in response.
"Right, so we need to figure out how to control these abilities," Ivan continued, bringing the conversation back on track. "We can't have you transforming into someone else without warning, especially if it puts others in danger."
Jean's mind raced with questions and concerns. How would he learn to control this? Would he ever be able to change back to his normal self? The uncertainty was overwhelming.
But he knew he had the support of the council, and together, they would find a way to navigate this new challenge.
Without warning, the sound of a helicopter's rotors filled the air. Ivan rose from his seat and walked over to the window, peering out to see a chopper emblazoned with the Foundation's logo. Relief washed over him, but it was quickly tempered by a creeping sense of unease. Ivan had been around long enough to know that when the Foundation showed up, it usually meant trouble.
He watched anxiously as the helicopter landed, and his tension only mounted when a heavily armored man stepped out, followed by a familiar figure. It was Aaron Siegel, one of the Overseers who had brought Jean to the Council's attention. Purpose, the infamous Red Right Hand of the Overseers, walked alongside him.
Ivan hurried to the entrance to greet them, offering a warm smile as he shook Aaron's hand. The Council members looked on with interest, while Jean couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in the presence of the man who had brought him here.
As Ivan turned his attention to Purpose, a memory flickered through his mind. He saw a young man with black hair and blue eyes, battling against Insurgency operatives with an almost inhuman grace. He remembered the name they had called him - Lament.
But that was a long time ago. Ivan pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the present. There was work to be done.
Ivan led the distinguished Aaron Siegel through the 909 Council's conference room, Purpose following closely behind. The researchers gaped at the heavily-armored man as he strode by, seemingly impervious to their incredulous stares. Ivan pushed open the glass door to the conference room, and Aaron entered after him. Jean felt a lump form in his throat as he saw the Overseer, but he managed to keep his composure and remain silent.
"My fellow Consulates," Ivan announced to the gathered council members. "I'm sure you all recognize our esteemed guest."
The Council nodded in unison, and Purpose shut the door behind them.
"Jean, how's everything going so far?" Aaron inquired, looking directly at the nervous polymorph.
Jean hesitated for a moment before answering. "It's been good, Mr. Siegel," he replied.
"How are your polymorphic abilities coming along?" Aaron pressed.
"I'm still struggling to control them, sir," Jean admitted.
Aaron nodded thoughtfully, while Ivan sneezed and reached for a tissue to wipe his long grey beard. Jean knew that Aaron was the most powerful man in the world, and that Ivan was second only to him - even though the 909 Council was a century older than the Foundation.
Ivan looked at Jean with concern. "We will help you learn to control your abilities, Jean. We want you to use them for the betterment of humanity, not for destruction."
Jean nodded, relieved that the Council was willing to help him. He had been afraid that they would use his abilities for their own gain.
Aaron spoke up, "Ivan, I have come with urgent news. The Foundation has detected an anomaly that threatens the fabric of reality itself."
Aaron felt silent for a moment. "I've heard that before." he quietly muttered under his breath. The Council members looked at each other with concern. Ivan nodded, "We will do whatever we can to help."
Aaron continued, "The anomaly is located in a remote area of Siberia. The Foundation is sending a team to contain it, but they need our help. They have requested that we send some of our best researchers and agents to assist them."
Ivan nodded again, "We will send a team immediately. Who do you suggest we send?"
Aaron thought for a moment before answering, "I suggest you send Agent Kozlov and Dr. Zhang. They have experience with reality-bending anomalies and would be valuable assets to the Foundation team."
Ivan turned to one of the council members, "Prepare a team to assist the Foundation. We cannot let this anomaly threaten the safety of humanity."
The council member nodded and left the room to make the necessary preparations. Aaron turned to Jean, "Jean, you have potential. Perhaps someday you could join us in our mission to protect humanity."
Jean looked at Aaron, feeling a sense of purpose he had never felt before. He nodded, "I will do whatever it takes to protect humanity."
Ivan smiled, "That is what we all strive for. Together with the Foundation, we will keep the world safe from the anomalies that threaten it."
— - —
Years had passed since Jean had joined the 909 Council, and he had come a long way. He had finally gained control over his polymorphic abilities and had just signed the contract to become a Consulate, along with three others. His abilities were honed under the watchful eye of Green, the Seventh Overseer. Despite her friendly appearance, Green was cunning and bloodthirsty, and she had taught Jean to harness his powers to their full potential.
— - —
Jean arrived at Site-52C, a sprawling business campus that was the base of operations for the 909 Council. He stepped out of the long black car and was greeted by Ivan, who was dressed in a sleek black suit. Jean's blue French attire was crisp and clean, and his gaze was sharp as he took in his surroundings.
"Good morning, 909-11," Ivan said warmly as he shook Jean's hand. "Welcome to Site-52C. I'm thrilled to be hosting you."
Jean smiled meekly. "It's my pleasure, Sir Ivan Hilohiko," he responded. "Sorry for the delay, sir."
Ivan nodded solemnly. "No worries. We're having a conference meeting right now, and we have several new recruits here too. Come with me, 909-11."
Jean followed Ivan through the Site, flanked by his security detail. They arrived at a meeting room, and Ivan pushed his hand against a small screen, causing the door to slide open with a satisfying hiss.
Inside, Jean saw ten people seated at a long ovular table, all dressed in black suits. Four of them were women, and the rest were men, including a Scottish-American man with an 1800s-style rifle seated at the far end of the table, identified as "909-10."
Jean took his seat and glanced around the table. He saw two new recruits seated next to him, 909-2 and 909-3, both of whom looked serious and focused. On his right was the infamous 909-10, David Hunter, who had fled from the helicopter when they arrived at the Bangladesh Site. But here he was, seated calmly at the Council table.
There was only one empty seat, next to a Swahili woman in her mid-twenties, on her chest read "909-13".
Ivan extended his arms. "We're waiting for the last recruit. Sohrab El-Tabatabai, who goes by the alias Sohrab Mohammedi, 909-12," he explained, the Council including the newly recruited Consulates nodding in unison.
Jean settled into his seat and waited for the meeting to begin, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation. Jean was proud to be a part of such a prestigious organization.
Ivan strode out of the room, leaving only silence in his wake, it entered like an unwelcome guest. The silence was broken only by the soft sound of a cigarette being lit. Jean looked at the two newly appointed Consulates seated beside him. 909-2, a Japanese woman in her late thirties, sat beside 909-3, a Kolechian male in his mid-sixties. Jean didn't know much about Kolechia, but he knew that he was skilled.
The door creaked open, breaking the silence once again. A man entered, his aging features belying his Iranian heritage. It was 909-12, Sohrab El-Tabatabai, or Sohrab Mohammedi, as he was known. Sohrab took a seat on the only empty chair in the room.
"Now that we're all here," Ivan began, "let's begin the briefing. Our latest mission concerns a series of anomalous events occurring in the town of Santa Ana, Ecuador."
Jean listened intently as Ivan spoke, taking in all the details of the mission. It was clear that this was not going to be an easy task.
As Ivan wrapped up the briefing, he turned to Sohrab. "909-12, I trust that you are up for the task ahead?"
Sohrab sat up straight in his chair, his eyes alight with determination. "Absolutely, Sir Hilohiko. I won't let you down."
"Good," Ivan said with a nod. "You and the rest of the team will depart for Ecuador tomorrow morning. I have faith that you will succeed in your mission."
Sohrab felt a mix of excitement and nervousness at the prospect of the mission ahead. Jean knew that this was just the beginning of Sohrab's journey within the 909 Council, but he was confident that Sohrab was up to the task.
As the meeting drew to a close, 909-10 stood up and addressed Ivan. "Uh, Ivan? You forgot to assign codenames to our new recruits."
Ivan's lips twitched slightly. "Ah, thank you for reminding me, Hunter."
909-2, the Japanese female, raised her arm confidently. "I'll be The Assassin," she declared.
Ivan made a note of it before turning to 909-3, the Kolechian male. "You seem to enjoy causing destruction wherever you go. You'll be the Mercenary," Ivan assigned.
909-3 seemed unfazed, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.
Jean spoke up next. "The Chimera," he said confidently.
Ivan raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "The Chimera?" he repeated, but Jean didn't offer any explanation.
As 909-12 began to suggest a codename, 909-10 interrupted him with a playful grin. "How about The Terrorist?" he joked.
Ivan didn't seem too impressed, but he let it go. Sohrab was a bit hesitant about the name, but he ultimately decided to go along with it.
With the codenames assigned, the meeting came to an end, and the Consulates filed out of the room.
As 909-11 made his way out of the conference room, he found himself standing in the lobby with his fellow new recruits. The quartet of newcomers sat silently on small white chairs, lost in their own thoughts. 909-13, the sentinel assigned to guard the exit, briefly cast a curious glance at Sohrab as Jean took a seat at the far end of the room, alongside the Assassin and the Terrorist.
Without a word, Ivan gestured for them to follow him, and they soon found themselves walking towards a long black car. Climbing inside, they settled into silence as the vehicle made its way through the bustling city streets.
It was Jean who finally broke the stillness, his voice smooth and reassuring. "So, what's your story?" he asked, his eyes flitting between his fellow recruits.
The Terrorist hesitated for a moment before responding. "I come from a small town in Saudi Arabia," he began. "I always felt like I was different from others, like I had abilities beyond what I could understand. And then, one day, I was approached by the 909 Council. They told me that I was right, that I did have special abilities, and that I could use them for a greater purpose."
The Mercenary snorted derisively. "Sounds like a typical recruitment pitch," he muttered. "They love to prey on people who feel like outcasts."
The Assassin shot him a sharp look. "Don't be so cynical," she admonished.
"Everyone here has a depressing backstory," The Mercenary continued unabated. "We've got Ivan, whose father died, and Chris abandoned him."
The sense of danger emanating from The Mercenary's words was palpable, and the Terrorist couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension.
"Safadi, shut up," Jean barked, his tone commanding. "We're all new here. Let's give each other a chance."
The car continued on in silence until they reached a tall apartment building. Pulling up outside, the driver raised two fingers in appreciation before driving off. The recruits entered the building and were directed to their respective private residences.
As the door to his apartment slid open, 909-11 was greeted with a spacious living area and floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded him a stunning view of the city skyline. The decor was sleek and modern, with a black leather sofa and a glass coffee table in the living room, and a king-sized bed adorned with pristine white sheets in the bedroom.
Making his way towards the balcony, 909-11 took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. He was about to embark on a new journey, one that he had never thought was possible. Gazing out over the glittering cityscape, he knew that his life would never be the same again.
— - —
Jean awoke to the incessant buzzing of his alarm clock. He groggily reached over and shut it off before taking a deep breath of the cool morning air. He rose from his king-sized bed and made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a plate with toasted bread on it along the way.
As he walked through his modern and minimalist apartment, he felt a sense of calm wash over him. His wooden closet at the far end of his bedroom held an array of neatly hung and folded blue French suits, ties, pants, and white shirts. Selecting his outfit for the day, he made his way to the luxurious bathroom.
Limestone tiles lined the floor, and a glass-enclosed shower head loomed over the far corner. Jean stepped into the shower for a quick rinse, feeling refreshed as he stepped out and donned his new clothes. He stood in front of his apartment door, took a deep breath, and exhaled, ready to tackle whatever the day had in store for him.
As Jean exited his apartment and made his way towards the elevator, he noticed that the lobby was nearly empty except for the man on the reception table and a few 909 Council guards. They ordered Jean to take a seat inside the lobby and instructed him to wait until all the newly appointed Consulates had arrived.
It wasn't long before the elevator door opened behind him, and out came the Terrorist, Sohrab, or 909-12. Despite being fellow recruits, they didn't acknowledge each other. Sohrab was also instructed to wait until all the 909 recruits had arrived.
After a few minutes, 909-3, the Mercenary, stepped out of his elevator. His hair was neatly curled back, and a mustache preceded along his top lip. Six minutes later, 909-2, The Assassin, stepped out of her elevator. Her hair had been neatly styled, and she wore a blue dress with a hint of red, giving off an aura of confidence and sophistication.
The man in charge gestured for the new Consulates to follow him, and they proceeded to leave the apartment. As they walked towards the car, Jean could hear a phone ringing in the distance.
They were once again greeted by the same long black car, and they entered it. Jean spoke to Sohrab in a thick French accent, "Tell me a little bit more about yourself."
Sohrab obliged, "My parents moved to Iran to escape the Saudi-Yemeni War, I was a preacher until I went to college, my mom died of Leukemia."
Jean nodded in understanding and patted Sohrab's back as he could only smile.
The long black car pulled up to Site-52C once again, and the newly recruited Consulates stepped out. Sohrab, known as 909-12, was the last to exit, and this time the car remained stationary.
Ivan greeted each Consulate, stopping to shake their hands and offer words of praise. "Sakura, well done yesterday," he said to 909-2 with a smile. He glared at 909-3 before reluctantly shaking his hand. "I'd say I'm impressed, Ivan. You really made us all feel special," 909-3 remarked with a hint of sarcasm. Ivan only gave a faint smile.
Jean shook Ivan's hand quickly before leading the way towards the building. Inside, the new recruits were led to a slightly smaller room, where Ivan pressed his hand against a hand-sized screen and the sliding door opened. The room had only five chairs, with Ivan taking a seat at the far end of the ovular table.
The meeting was a tense affair, with Ivan explaining each member's role and objectives. 909-12, was tasked with a mission to Santa Ana, Ecuador, to investigate and eliminate a potential threat. He eagerly accepted the challenge, determined to prove himself to his new colleagues.
But 909-2, known as Sakura, was not satisfied with the briefing. She stood up and asked a question, her voice ringing out like a bell in the quiet room. "What is the relevance of the 'false God' by Bumaro?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in concentration.
Ivan paused for a moment, his eyes flicking to Sakura before answering. "It's a machine made by the Church of the Broken God," he explained. "It has caused the sea levels to rise, leading to the sinking of parts of Ecuador."
The other new recruits looked stunned by the revelation. For Jean, however, they only confirmed his worst fears. The 909 Council's mission was to stop or contain world-ending phenomena, but with threats like a false God looming on the horizon, he couldn't help but wonder if they were truly up to the task.
As the meeting concluded and the new recruits filed out of the room, Jean lingered behind for a moment, lost in thought. He knew that the 909 Council had been founded in the 1700s, a century before the SCP Foundation came into existence. And while the two organizations were partners, their approaches to containment were vastly different.
For the 909 Council, eradicating viruses and saving countless lives was a fundamental part of their mission, as outlined in their contract. But as the threat of the false God and other world-ending phenomena continued to grow, Jean couldn't help but wonder if their efforts would be enough to stave off disaster.
Ivan weaved a winding path through the twisting corridors of Site-52C, each turn revealing another section of the sprawling underground complex. As they walked, he gestured to various rooms and labs, explaining their purposes in brief but informative detail. Jean listened intently, his mind racing with the weight of his newly appointed position on the 909 Council.
Sohrab stood silently in the entrance, his eyes darting about the dimly lit halls. He was eager to prove himself on his upcoming mission to Santa Ana, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension at the thought of facing off against the forces of the Church of the Broken God.
Despite the urgency of the situation, Ivan's pace remained steady, measured. He seemed to know the layout of the facility like the back of his hand, moving with a fluidity that belied his years. As they reached the end of one particularly long corridor, he turned to Jean.
"So, what do you make of our little slice of heaven here at Site-52C?" he asked, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Jean looked around, taking in the high-tech equipment and the scientists scurrying around like ants. "It's certainly impressive," he said, nodding slowly.
Ivan chuckled. "You haven't seen nothing yet," he said, leading Jean towards the elevator. "We've got some of the most cutting-edge technology in the world, all in the service of keeping the planet safe from world-ending phenomena and other dangerous anomalies."
Jean frowned. "You mentioned 'world-ending phenomena before. What do you mean by that?"
Ivan paused, turning to face Jean. "It's exactly what it sounds like," he said gravely. "We're talking about events or entities that could potentially end the world as we know it. The 909 Council was founded to stop or contain these types of threats, and we take our mission very seriously."
As the elevator doors opened, Ivan gestured for Jean to step inside. "And that's where the SCP Foundation comes in," he continued. "They're our partners in this fight, and together, we're the last line of defense against the forces that seek to destroy our world."
Ivan and Jean finally arrived at a large metal door marked "Containment Area." Ivan punched in a code and the door slid open with a hiss. They stepped into a dimly lit room with multiple holding cells lining the walls. The sound of labored breathing echoed throughout the room.
"Welcome to the containment area," Ivan said, gesturing to the cells. "This is where we keep some of the most dangerous anomalies that we've managed to capture."
Jean looked around, his eyes widening at the sight of the creatures held within the cells. Some were humanoids with distorted features, while others were entirely alien in appearance.
"How do you keep them contained?" Jean asked, his voice low.
Ivan smirked. "We have our ways," he replied cryptically.
As they made their way through the cells, Jean couldn't help but wonder what kind of horrors the 909 Council had faced in their centuries of existence. He was grateful for the opportunity to work with them and do his part in preventing world-ending disasters.
The thought of the SCP Foundation being their partner organization reminded him of the immense responsibility that came with their line of work. But Jean was confident in the abilities of both organizations to handle whatever came their way. Together, they could make a difference and save countless lives.
As Ivan and Jean made their way back towards the main lab, Ivan suddenly froze in his tracks. His mind was flooded with a vivid memory of an Overseer from the Foundation, she was Green.
"I'm afraid that Jean's memories since the day he was found at the Bay of Bengal, they have long since been forgotten by him." Green had said to Ivan in the memory, her tone heavy with concern.
Ivan's heart sank as he realized the gravity of the situation. "What do you suggest we do?" Ivan had asked, desperation creeping into his voice.
Green had let out a deep sigh. "I have to admit that this took a long time," she had admitted. "But the only way is to secretly manipulate him into working for you."
Ivan had felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought of manipulating someone in such a way. "How?" he had asked. "What if he finds out?"
Green had simply smiled. "Don't worry," she had said. "We did the same to Sam Biel, O5-11, do you recall?"
Ivan had nodded, a knot forming in his stomach. "Okay," he had said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you."
With that, the memory faded and Ivan was left standing there in the hallway, his mind racing with thoughts of the past and the present. He knew that they had to tread carefully with Jean, and that the truth of his lost memories could not be revealed. But he was also filled with a sense of unease, wondering if he could truly trust the SCP Foundation and the methods they employed.
Jean regarded Ivan with a quizzical expression.
"What's wrong, Ivan?" he asked. "You just stopped and stared off for a moment there."
Ivan's forehead was slick with sweat as he struggled to collect his thoughts. "I…I remembered something," he said hesitantly. "A memory, but it's not something I can discuss."
Jean raised an eyebrow. "Is everything okay?" he asked, concern etched on his features.
Ivan forced a smile. "Everything's fine," he said, although his voice was strained. "We have work to do, after all. Let's get back to it."
Jean nodded, although he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. As they resumed their tour of Site-52C, their footsteps echoing through the hallways as they made their way to the next area.
"So, who are these newly appointed Consulates, and how did you approach them all?" Jean asked once again, curiosity evident in his voice.
Ivan smirked. "We've been monitoring their activities privately," he said, a hint of mystery in his tone. "909-2, Sakura, was a Japanese woman who worked for a small secret agency in her youth. She has the ability to perform calculations faster than any other calculator."
Jean raised an eyebrow in surprise at the backstory of 909-2. Ivan continued, "As for 909-3, Shaddy Safadi, he's a notorious drug smuggler who really enjoys inciting rebellions and invading countries. He's quite good at it too."
Jean was once again taken aback by the nature of their recruits. Ivan went on, "And last but not least, you may have heard of 909-12. Sohrab, I bet you know him, right?"
Jean nodded, a hint of recognition in his eyes. "Yes, he told me he came from a small Saudi village and his family moved to Iran to escape the Saudi-Yemeni War. His mother died of Leukemia," he recalled.
"Correct," Ivan confirmed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It seemed that their newest Consulate was a talented and resourceful group, each with their own unique abilities that could aid in the 909 Council's missions.
The tour had come to an end, the duo arriving at Site-52C's lobby. The door opened, revealing the young Swahili woman, 909-13, who had apparently opened it. Ivan motioned for Jean to take a seat, which he did obediently.
As they settled in, a phone began to ring. The sharp sound echoed through the otherwise silent room, ringing seven times before Ivan stood up to answer it. With a nod to 909-13, he lifted the receiver to his ear.
NOW
— - —
Jean had dedicated nearly three decades of his life to serving the 909 Council. He had been appointed unofficially in 1974, and then officially in 1979. Even now, Jean continued to work with the Council, helping their partner organizations, including the Foundation. However, there was a dark secret that the Council and the Foundation had kept hidden from Jean for many years.
It wasn't until later that Jean found out about the manipulation that had been secretly inflicted upon him. It was a devastating revelation for Jean, who had always trusted the Council and the Foundation. Despite considering suicide, he persevered and continued his work.
Jean's ability to become a polymorph had led him to change his pronouns to they/them, just like Sam Biel had done. However, Jean kept their findings about the secret manipulation from Ivan and the Council. Meanwhile, Sohrab had successfully completed his mission in Santa Ana, Ecuador, and had come out of the private airplane, injured but alive.
Jean's unique ability to create other realities and universes had become a crucial part of the Council's mission, which had been ongoing since the 1700s. Most of the world-ending phenomena and contagious diseases had been contained within these realities.
With the addition of the Eleventh Consulate, the Council knew that the world would not survive for much longer. The Council had a Department of Disinformation, but Jean completely reinvigorated the field by creating the Department of Public Awareness and Perception Management, which Jean would lead.
Perhaps in becoming the Eleventh Consulate, Jean had lost a part of themselves. Despite the Council's efforts to recover Jean and learn more about the Insurgency, they were unable to bring Jean back from the dark.
swore to defend.
- BACK -
