She looked about the same as everyone else after she died. Her skin had turned blue, or that sickly coloration that comes with cold storage for a body. She'd been wheeled out so everyone on Alpha-9 could positively identify her, a formality more than anything, and they'd tossed the fabric covering her stiff, cold body so Jackie could nod her head. She'd noticed that Iris' body had a lot more scars than she had been expecting, but she didn't linger. Even if she was gone at this point, there was a reason she'd kept herself covered up so much, and Iris still commanded respect. Even more so now, with the innate sanctity of a body. That shock of blonde hair, laid out on the cold metal gurney, was the only cushion Iris was afforded. Even so, she looked calm. Jackie couldn't bring herself to call her face 'peaceful.'
The mortuary technician tossed the cover back over Iris' head and addressed the four people in attendance, telling them that he was to begin cremation immediately - standard procedure for expired anomalies. Foxx left first, nodding to his teammates as he went and offering a couple 'I'm sorrys' and 'if you need anythings' on his way out. Adams looked at the lump on the gurney get rolled over to the wall, and when the cremator was activated, she turned and left, all without a word. That only left Anne and Jackie, the former staring at the body as it was loaded, practically unblinking. Jackie couldn't tell what she was thinking, but rarely was she quiet and still for this long. For her part, Jackie stayed too; with Iris gone, she now had nobody to talk to at Site-17, and nothing to do until she got transferred back to 19.
Her body was loaded in, the sheet removed, and the door shut. The technician pressed a button and watched a screen for a few minutes before deciding things were going alright and turning to leave. He faltered when he saw Anne and Jackie, still watching in the window to the morgue, but he didn't stop. After a moment, Jackie heard a door open and shut, then it was just the two of them. There wasn't much to see or hear in the hallway, and Anne looked every bit a corpse as the one they just saw, so Jackie simply watched a temperature reading on a monitor climb and said nothing. Such was the silence that Jackie felt chained to the ground, but then again, she had nowhere to be but there.
"Optimal combustion…" Anne murmured. It took Jackie a moment to even realize something had been said, initially assuming it was just a noise from the air vents.
"What?" Jackie winced as she spoke, unprepared for her voice to break the quiet.
Anne gave a quick sideways glance towards Jackie before turning back to the room. Jackie could see she wasn't crying, but her eyes were cold and hard. "…He was talking about it before. Getting her… getting the body to 'optimal combustion,'" she said in a small voice. "I guess that's all she is now. A log."
Jackie didn't have anything to say to that. She'd seen enough bodies to view them in much the same way. Typically, she didn't think about the person they used to be nearly as much as where to dispose of them to limit the spread of disease. They tended to be more 'carcasses' than 'bodies' to her.
Once the quiet was broken, though, it was hard to let it stay quiet. And it's not like the slowly rising digital thermometer was a very good distraction. "I'm surprised you're still here," Anne said, her voice closer to a normal speaking tone than before, even if it wasn't quite there yet.
No response. Jackie wasn't really aware of why she was still standing there either. Even if she had nothing to do, there must have been better places to stand and look at a wall than the morgue. Maybe she just didn't want to have to see everyone else hearing the news. It sounded like a pain.
"…You knew her longer than I did." Anne turned her head to Jackie, and she didn't look back this time. "Did you really care?"
Jackie broke eye contact, but she wasn't sure why. There was nothing for her to feel guilty about. "We worked together. Same as anyone else."
Anne clenched her jaw, but it seemed like she was satisfied with that answer, or at least believed it. She turned back to the wall and let the constant hum of the air ducts overtake her.
Her concentration, or lack thereof, broken, Jackie stood awkwardly for a few seconds before turning to leave, instinctively making as little noise as possible. And yet. Something stopped her before she left the room, and she turned back to Anne.
"I never asked you," she started. Anne's eyes looked in her direction, their concentration broken. "Why you asked to join in the first place."
"Didn't think you cared," Anne scoffed half-heartedly.
"Let's just say I'm sating my own curiosity." Jackie took a breath. "I just want to know."
Anne looked back at the cremator's door and raised a hand, almost touching the glass, before she winced in what looked like shame and brought her hand back to her side. "I don't know. I guess I just thought… I just wanted her to be different."
Jackie clenched her jaw and looked at the ground, then back up to Anne. Me too, she didn't say, as she turned and left without so much as a nod, leaving Anne and Iris alone.
Aleksander spun his flip lighter in his fingers, tapping each side against the armrest of his chair as he did so. Perhaps it was just because he was nervous, or perhaps because it was something to focus on besides the other two women in the room. September looked bone tired, far past the kind of everyday exhaustion she was capable of covering up, and Adams hadn't seemed comfortable once since she woke up. That was understandable, and it's not like Aleksander was feeling particularly chipper himself, but none of that made being with the two of them any more bearable.
"I just spoke with Carol Rodgers," September sighed, putting down a carefully arranged stack of paper and rubbing her forehead. "Now that the cremation has been successful, the interment of SCP-105's remains comes next. Now, do either of you have any… strong opinions on if it should be the standard anomaly disposal or with KIA operators?"
Aleksander thought for a moment and shook his head. He hadn't known Iris very well, so he shouldn't speak for her. He turned to Adams, who looked like she was thinking about it pretty hard despite her distant expression.
"I think…" Adams trailed off and shook her head. Seems like she realized the same thing Aleksander had.
"Right, well, since Rodgers' socialization project is the reason the anomalies even know each other, she offered to take care of… notifying everyone." September handed a sheet of paper with the designations of a handful of anomaly designations to Aleksander. He recognized a couple - 3009 and 4818, two teenagers he'd seen Iris talking to when he had visited. "Counselors will be telling those close to her about her passing in private, offer grief counseling, and then notify the general population tomorrow morning."
He shared the blame of what happened along with Adams. And Iris herself, of course, but she wasn't here to make amends, so he folded the paper up and shoved it into his pocket. The least he could do was check in on the girls now that Iris was gone, but he'd do that on his own time. That wasn't why they were here.
"So." September enunciated the word so as to assert that the conversation was moving along. "Leadership has made a decision as to your next assignment related to Alpha-9, and asked for me to pass it along to you." Aleksander understood 'leadership,' when used in this context, didn't mean the Site-17 leadership, but something nebulous and spoken about in hushed tones. As a new Foundation hire, he understood it wasn't something he should be prying into if he wanted to keep his job, so he didn't press for specifics.
September produced a stack of half a dozen or so manila folders and pushed them across her desk towards Aleksander and Adams. Aleksander waited a moment for Adams to take a look at the documents, but she didn't turn her attention away from her newly attached arm as she picked at its skin. He remembered what he had felt like when he woke up after getting his organs swapped out following the accident, so he hadn't been pushing her, but if it was eating into work, then…
"If you'll take a look at the dossiers, you'll find a small handful of, uh, 'candidates,'" she said, barely concealing her incredulity. "Replacements for Iris. Due to your positions close to the task force, the two of you are to screen candidates to fill up the hole in the task force's roster."
Aleksander took the stack and looked through the folders. "Daniel, no shot, Leora, just a kid, Marya, too unpredictable, Rainer, too dangerous." He closed the folders with a soft whap and looked at September. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
September slumped down in her chair. "Alright. Off the record? Sure," she groaned, to Aleksander's surprise. "Me, personally? I think that's the only answer you could give. Iris took the job in the first place so nobody else would, but there wasn't a good shot anyone else even fit for the role." She took a deep breath and recomposed herself. "But that's just me. Maybe you know something I don't."
It was unconvincing, but it served its purpose of distancing September's opinion from her job. Aleksander waited for Adams to say something, but she barely seemed like she was paying attention. "Was that everything?" He asked.
"Yeah. Clef's asking for the reports in a week, but that's just so he can throw them out sooner. You've got two. After that the decision's out of your hands," September replied. Aleksander nodded and stood up, and Adams followed suit a second later once she noticed. "Alexei - SCP-2273 opted out of any sort of consideration for this, but expect it to be forced through in the next couple days anyways. You're free to go," she finished with a nod.
Before Aleksander and Adams were even out of the room, she had turned her attention back to some other work on her laptop. Aleksander shrugged internally and made his way out of the Factotum's office, holding the door open for Adams and closing it behind her, which she acknowledged with a slight nod.
"Hey, uh, Andrea?" Aleksander called after her with a measured voice. They were still right outside the Factotum's office, and her secretary was still sitting there, so he didn't want to say anything too loud. He shot the secretary - Jessica, her name was - a look, and she cowered back behind her desktop. He didn't think it was that intense of a look, but whatever.
"Huh? Uh, yeah?" Adams seemed to at least partially snap back to reality upon hearing her name.
"You alright?" Aleksander didn't want to press too hard, but he expected Adams was too professional to come out and say it herself. "I know you and Iris were friends, so-"
"No." Adams shook her head. "We weren't, we just worked together."
It took Aleksander a moment before he spoke again, as Adams stopped talking as abruptly as she had started. "…Uh huh. Well, I just saw you looking at your arm a lot, is all."
Adams broke eye contact, but didn't say anything. Aleksander wouldn't push the Iris thing if she didn't want to talk about it, but she couldn't hide how much the arm was bothering her. "Hey, I got pretty messed up before too, right? It was weird when they first put me back together, but you get used to it." Adams was still spacing out, so Aleksander gave her a light punch to the arm. "Plus it looks like they sewed you up better than my old job did with me. My chest still looks fucked up, but on you, you can't even see the join," he finished with a low chuckle.
"But that's…" Adams made a face for a second before she returned to her listless expression. "No. It's fine, I'll be fine."
Aleksander shoved one of his hands into his coat pocket while the other tapped the files against his knee. He thought about Iris for a moment, about those girls who used to orbit her, then about how long it would take to speak with them, and how late the bars around the city were open. Technically, his job was just to look over his files, but having an upset coworker and a depressed workplace wasn't good for work, either.
"Look, I'm gonna go talk to the girls real quick. Lucille was real torn up when a teacher she liked passed a couple years ago, so… Well, you know. I'll just see if they need anything." Foxx cleared his throat to brush past that, expecting some kind of protest but getting none. "Then, tell you what, we can go to that real expensive bar downtown you were talking about."
Adams groaned. "Foxx, I don't-"
"Honest-to-god, just as a coworker," Aleksander said with his hands in the air, keeping his tone quiet. "I've been there, and it's good to blow off some steam and relax a little. Just… you know. Remember you're still you."
A few more seconds of silence. Aleksander could tell that Jessica was holding her breath behind her computer and eavesdropping, but he didn't care. He was worried about Adams, and even if she did talk to September, that woman didn't seem like the type to involve herself in other people's business. Eventually, Adams nodded, then pinched her nose.
"Yeah. Yeah, shit. I think I just need to get out for once." Adams started to relax, and Aleksander felt himself doing the same - not that he was aware he was even tense in the first place. "So, what? You pick me up at eight?"
Aleksander smiled. "Sounds good to me."
"Alright then. See you at eight." Adams started to leave, but turned around for a second. "And… thanks, Aleksander."
With that she took her leave. Once she was out of the room, Aleksander took a breath that slowly morphed into a sigh. Honestly, he didn't know much about the two girls Iris looked after aside from their names and numbers. Still, even though Iris knew the risks, it was at least partially the fault of Aleksander - Aleksander's equipment, rather, that it went down like it did. Iris didn't have much in the way of affairs, but what she did have deserved to be taken care of.
He checked the clock. 3:34, so he had about three and a half hours to sort all that out before he had to get ready himself. Aleksander shrugged and walked towards Jessica as she sank further into her chair the closer he got. At least she'd know where to find that Stacey kid.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't grip the countertop so tightly. Relax. Straighten up your back and try to smile. At least make a neutral face.
A while ago, that mantra used to be something that was a lot more professional-sounding. Ten years of repetition lead to it being whittled down to its essentials, rough edges and all. But it was what Andrea needed as she looked at herself in the mirror, her dress looking nice enough, her hair looking straight enough, her makeup looking convincing enough.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Make sure your dress is on right. Stop pressing your nails into your palms. Push out your chest and smile this time.
Foxx was right, she'd been feeling strange since she woke up after the last operation. She could, and indeed did, attribute some of that to learning that her job security for the near future bit the dust, but ultimately she wasn't ever going to be let go by the Foundation if they'd gone through the trouble of wiping her memories after hiring her. Which was a normal thing for a lot of staff members, she knew. She knew that.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax already. Hold your hands together if you have to. Smile. Smile already. Not like that. Do it right.
She just needed to get her mind off of things, go and relax. She was too focused on how wrong everything's been feeling since she woke up, she just needed to get back in the swing of things. Live a little, take a load off, focus on shooting the shit instead of her arm. Her perfectly fine arm.
Breathe in. Breathe out. I said relax. Stop staring at your arm.
Andrea kept a clean apartment, so her mirror wasn't smudged. Her arm was spotless in the reflection, clean as the mirror. Even though that thing had ripped it off. Pushed her to the ground and twisted her arm in a way it should never bend and pulled and pulled and pulled until Andrea could feel things she didn't know she had in her tearing apart and snapping and then kept on pulling. Even though she tore Andrea's skin apart like she was made of plastic grocery bags.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Stop it.
She watched a hand trace up her arm and pull the strap of her dress down past her shoulder. The skin there was clear, same color as the rest of her skin. No scars, nothing. A miracle of medical science, and that was that. But even so. The reflection of Andrea's other hand pushed at the skin under her shoulder. It wasn't even sore, and that part of her hadn't even been attached to her when she lost consciousness.
Stop it.
The skin was perfect. Just like her body no matter how much she ate. Just like her health no matter what she did. Just like her face no matter how much she aged. The hand in the reflection pushed into the skin on her upper arm. Only now did the skin look any different.
Stop it.
The hand kept pressing in. The arm in the reflection started to become deformed and the hand started to shake from the exertion. The thumb rubbed back and forth as if searching for imperfections, but even this close to the bone it could find none. No metal bars, or pins, or lumps. Nothing but perfection. The same as the body has always been.
Stop it.
The thumb broke through the smooth, perfect skin and dug into the muscle. As it continued pushing back and forth, the gap widened, and sludge started to pour out. Not blood, but greyish-red sludge. Like the kind that poured out of the thing that took her arm. Not the thing that poured out of Iris when she-
Knock, knock.
Two knocks on the door. Firm and polite. The reflection looked up, and Andrea breathes in again, though it was more of a gasp. Her eyes darted down to her shoulder covered in __________ and she cursed. She couldn't go out, but she needed to talk to Foxx. She's a professional. So she turned away from the mirror and focused on her door for the entire time it took her to walk over to and open it. Foxx doesn't knock again in all that time.
Andea opened the door halfway, keeping her injured shoulder out of view. Foxx, dressed in a suit that for once wasn't too much, looked up and smiled for Andrea the second he sees her. For someone who was just talking to a bereaved teenager, it looked very convincing.
"Hey! Ready to go?" Foxx did his best to look relaxed. Andrea tried to, but her attempt was far from her best.
She looked at the floor. "I, uh… I'm sorry, something came up." Andrea cleared her throat, took a breath in, then took a breath out. "I don't think I can go out tonight."
After a moment, Andrea looked up to see if Foxx hadn't heard her, and saw that past his smile, his eyes looked hurt. "Andrea. I'm gonna come in for a second, okay?"
"Wait, uh-" But before Andrea could think of a response, Foxx pushed the door open and she took a step back. She wanted to turn her imperfect shoulder away from him, but found herself rooted in place. She simply… didn't know where to go.
His eyes looked at the glob on her shoulder and he thought for a moment. Then he sighed, and reached into his pocket to procure a handkerchief. An honest-to-god handkerchief. "Alright, so, you got a little crap on yourself. No big deal."
Foxx stepped in front of her, and again, Andrea found herself unable to move. He took his handkerchief, dabbed up the viscous liquid, rubbed the spot where it was before, and… then stepped back again with a smile as he jammed the cloth back into his pocket. "See? Not a big deal."
"But-" Andrea stopped in her tracks. Her arm was perfect again. No hole in the skin, no scars, no imperfections. Same as it ever was. She opened her mouth-
Stop it.
And closed it again. Took a breath in, then out, then looked at Foxx. "Thanks. Uh, sorry about that. Ready to go when you are."