Alan left the Hub, the diner door slamming shut behind him and the entry bell leaving an incessant ringing in his ears that lasted for just a second too long. He deeply inhaled for a count of four seconds and then let it out after one.
He closed his eyes and pictured himself on the roof of the diner at his back. With a familiar flash of static, he was there. He felt uneasy, but he rose to his feet and stood steady, observing the vastness of eternity. The Hub existed in an endlessly flat piece of desert where day never broke; rather, the moon lit the world.
He let himself reprocess everything that had happened to him in what seemed like such a short time. He expected to be assaulted by fear and anxiety; he had had his mind wiped God knows how many times, learned the truth of his true family, joined a group of faceless people withholding secrets not even the most powerful organizations in the world could understand. He was about to put his first foot forward. But no. He felt not fear, but excitement— as if God had offered a hand when he lost his footing. He was ready.
Alan fixed his gaze onto the golden crescent moon for the last time, admiring it; to shine as bright as that was something he had always looked forward to. His glowing suit swayed in the wind.
He turned around, his back lit by the moonlight, and smirked to himself, lighting up his dark side. He paced toward the door and down a staircase. With each and every step, the building was subsumed by static, shifting reality before his eyes. He smiled. When he reached the bottom, it all left him, letting him walk on normal planet Earth again for the first time in his new life.
The moon was replaced by the sun, rising behind the skyscraping mountains— a morning star. It shone greatly on his young face, and his golden figure reflected it like a mirror. He inhaled the oxygen from nearby greens and felt life through his veins. Earth welcomed him home, and he accepted it with joy.
With his cane at his side, his disability was now a mere cosmetic for onlookers. He liked it, in a sense. He thought it made him look 'cool.' He cleared his throat and reminded himself of his business: catching 12.
Although he didn't know where to go or what to look for, he guided himself with cities and villages that he passed through. A voice beckoned to him, his intuition manifest as a guide for the lost. It was a hand that guided Alan, the sunflower, toward the sun.
Through these cities he would find himself struggling to keep himself hidden from the public eye, all-seeing as it is. A man in a golden suit is more attractive than a beautiful woman, albeit the former would catch greed rather than lust— both equally terrible.
He took short breaks; he couldn't pause to eat or drink but did occasionally stop to give his legs some rest. During one of these instances, he was in a pathway with both sides filled with sunflowers. He looked at them from the way, which was towering over them; he watched as their color and order made the field look like a golden flat surface— a place of eternal bliss.
He was hit by light from his back, darkening his front; he smiled. The flowers started to slowly, but noticeably, turn to face him. It took him by surprise at first, but once he turned around, he realized the sun was just right behind him. He sighed in relief.
After hours, when the sun had started to set, he found it. A building far away, hidden in isolation and silence. From his distance, it was merely a shadowed building. But the closer he got, the more features he could make up.
Soon enough, he was there, just twenty steps away. He hid behind a dead—but standing—tree, watching from the side. He was already exhausted enough just by coming here, and he prayed the inside wasn't as troublesome.
His first problem was the guards at the entrance, two to be exact. He had no arsenal to make use of other than his best friend, his cane. He walked to the side of the building, where no guards or watchers were present, and approached a corner.
There, he carefully peeked his head, watching the guards. They were armed to the teeth, with the SCP Foundation logo printed on their arms. Alan didn't know if it was safe to just show himself to them, but he knew they were a secret organization of some sort; he could comfortably assume he would be dead on the spot.
He did notice one strange thing about them, though. They were, say, too still, accompanied by their eye sockets being empty—no, not empty, but Vantablack. Were they alive? Dead? Undead? Puppets?
He watched carefully, studying even their smallest of movements. Or rather, lack thereof. A sweat ran down from his head; this was his first time seeing something this unusual. He had an idea in mind, but if it didn't work as he hoped, he would be as good as gone.
He quietly took a deep inhale and let it out, not letting his uneasiness affect his intelligence. He crouched and grabbed a hand-sized stone from the ground, whispered a prayer, and threw it into their field of view.
And he waited.
And waited.
Nothing.
Alan relaxed a bit. “They seem to be blind, or they don't register sensory input.” He said to himself and slowly started to approach them from the side. He lifted his cane and used the wall to help him walk through the gap, which felt like hours.
Once close enough, he carefully poked one of the guards with the other side of his cane. Still no reaction.
Desperate for safety, he applied more force and pushed the guard from behind, resulting in him falling face-first into the ground. He briefly gave a look to the other one and approached the now lying-down man to check his pulse and crouched on one knee.
No impulse. No heartbeat. They were put here to mimic the guards that they once were. The black substance slowly leaked out of his eyes and onto the ground, bubbling like acid. Alan closed his eyes and mourned their death, even if it was only for a few seconds.
He got up, a small sense of anger ignited within him. He didn't know these people, but murder is unjustified no matter what. He approached the entrance door of the facility and pushed himself in through the doors.
Inside, he was welcomed not by people working or noises created by machines working for years non-stop, but rather by a dead silence. The walls were covered with splashes of blood and that previous black substance, but there were no bodies to be found.
He picked up his gun from his inner pocket and readied himself for anything to come. His footsteps echoed in this once lively place, but now it housed nobody.
He checked all the research rooms and test chambers he came across; most of them were empty, or rather, abandoned. He turned a few corridors and finally saw a body. He ran towards it for inspection. His neck was snapped professionally.
“I thought he'd be the kind of guy to shoot people, not break necks.” He said to himself and checked the dead man's pockets. He found a clearance card.
Clearance level-2
Research Assistant
Y.O.E: 2009
Age: 36
Name: Roger Dinero
He took the card, paid his respects for the dead, and continued to move forward. It was rather uneventful, having nothing to entertain himself with other than the god-annoying buzzing of the lights and his own train of thoughts.
That soon changed, however, as he could see from his place that the lights in front of him were flickering, the buzzing continuously getting interrupted. He tightened his grip on his golden Desert Eagle and moved forward.
A mysterious smell caught his attention—it was disgusting. It was the smell of rotten meat and bones. He turned one last corner to see the source, and his eyes saw something he would never forget.
All the bodies piled up to the sides, bathing in their own blood. “Mother'a mercy…”
He slowly approached to get a closer look; not a single one of them was alive. He looked at the wall on his left; “Do not look away” was written in blood. The light flickering got intense as he read— A quick shockwave ran through his body; his intuition alerted him of danger. He quickly turned around and saw a sculpture at the other side of the hallway—the lights went out.
After a second, it came back, and SCP-173 was only a few steps away from him. Alan fell to his hips in surprise; adrenaline rushed through his body faster than light itself. He looked at that damn thing and didn't even blink, got up, and made a run for it backwards.
After enough distance, he turned around and ran straight forward. With each disappearance of light, the scripture got closer and closer as he watched. He fixed his gaze to his front, and was met with a 3-way. Not willing to gamble his life away, he let his only trustworthy friend make the decision — his intuition.
He chose the left and went into a smaller, darker pathway. At the end of it, a clearance card requiring automatic door was standing closed. It required level 1 or higher, perfect!
Alan reached out to his pocket amidst the panic and swiped his card across the reader, the door opened, and he rushed inside before the door closed by itself. He turned around and stared at the door, catching his breath in desperation. A loud thug came from the other side. Alan gave a loud sigh of relief and collapsed to the wall to his side and rested.
This room was full of gentle and smooth light, unflickering. The silence was music, and the light was a pat on the back.
“Who the hell… keeps a murderous statue in their facility?” He told to himself, both in confusion and righteous anger, all those dead men will be forgotten in a mere day to an organization like this, and Alan knew that.
But his train of thought was interrupted by muffled noises coming from afar. He cocked his gun and carefully approached the source. One of the SCP containment rooms, made for a "Such Black Light," — at least that's what it said on the headline beneath the four digit number.
He looked at the reader, and the text read it required level 5 clearance level only. He put his ear on the door and listened.
"This book is too dangerous to be within your hands."
"That's too bad, really. Now, cooperate or I will put a bullet in your head, and grab it from your dead body."
Alan disconnected his ear from the door, and quickly checked around for anything he could do to enter the door.
Then, he got an idea. He took a few steps back and made distance from the door, produced his golden pocket watch, and pressed on its pin. He aimed his gun at his head, albeit nervously, and closed his eyes before pulling the trigger.
BANG! — The pocket watch produced a fake corpse, which fell down to the ground lifelessly, while the real Alan had now become invisible until the timer ran out.
As soon as the shot was fired, the hostile conversation inside came to a halt. Alan quickly went to the other side of the door and waited impatiently. After two seconds, the door opened, and a figure emerged from the darkness within—a Nobody, holding a gun and pointing, clearing the area before seeing Alan's fake corpse on his right.
The real Alan, who was standing invisibly on his left, made his way inside the room.
The first thing the golden boy noticed upon entering was the fact that the room was dark in a circular manner, with only the middle given the spotlight. In that spotlight, he saw a woman—presumably in her 40s—with long black hair running down to her half, strong posture, beautiful green eyes, and a black uniform with "O5-9" written on the arms and the SCP logo where the heart would be.
Alan wouldn't admit it, not to anybody or to himself, but he did get struck by a weird sensation after looking at her, a sensation that ignited a small flame inside him and made him space out.
He quickly snapped back to reality after the automatic door closed, and Nobody made his way inside. "An intruder that seemed to have regretted making his way here," he commented out loud for O5-9 to hear. "Bringing that statue here with me was a good idea; I had to deal much less with your men. Now, where were we? Ah, right." He pointed his pistol at O5-9. "This is the part where I kill you and get the book from your corpse."
He pulled the hammer of the pistol instead of pulling the trigger, just to tease and try to squeeze a bit of please from the gentlewoman in front of him, but she did not give in to fear. She was assigned to O5 Council for her bravery, commitment, unmatched wit, and loyalty. She would die with honor on this spot, right here and right now.
Nobody's evil smile quickly faded away after noticing that this woman was harder than metal to crack. Before he could release the hammer, though, he felt the sensation of a metal barrel being pressed against the back side of his head—his head lightly tilted at the interaction too.
Then, Alan's timer ran out. With a loud buzz, the invisibility faded away from his body, revealing that he is holding Nobody at gunpoint, just like how he was holding O5-9. "Sorry, number Twelve, my old co-worker, but this room needs some lighting." Alan said.
Nobody's eyes shrunk at that voice—if they were visible, that is. He recognized it from the bottom of his darkened heart: the "friend" he shot in the head back in the Hub, now back on his feet and seeking correction.
He quickly landed an elbow to Alan's chest. The impact stunned him, preventing him from breathing for solid three seconds and making him lose his posture. Nobody grabbed him by the hand and twisted it.
Alan yelped in pain and pressed the trigger of his golden gun before the hand-twist made him drop it. He missed, though. The bullet grazed Nobody's cheek, giving it a small bleed. But he paid no mind to it.
In these microseconds, Alan focused his concentration on the bullet he just fired amidst the pain, and soon enough, the bullet came back and pierced through Nobody's palm like wet paper. The bullet made a visible hole through his hand; it was possible to see the other side through it like a window.
Nobody grabbed his injured hand as a response to immense pain; the force of the bullet threw the gun away from his reach. "What the hell…?!" Nobody said, looking at his palm, seeing his own blood drain before his eyes.
Alan landed a punch to his face, followed up by a kick that threw him to the ground. He crouched and picked up his gun and trained the aim at him. He walked backwards to get closer to O5-9. "Bullets that change trajectory by the command of my mind. The Boss knew you'd cheat your way out, so I got a few fancy tools as well."
Alan turned to look at the O5 who stood next to him now. "Are you okay, lady?" he asked.
"Call me O5-9," the Overseer responded coldly. "And I am fine." Not a single piece of worry was in her voice, as if she knew Alan would be here.
That confidence was beautiful.
But the sweet thoughts were interrupted as Nobody stood back on his feet; the blood dripping from his hand into the little blood puddle echoed inside the small room. "You annoying rat… how are you not dead?!"
Alan gave his gun a small spin before breaking his aim and took off his golden fedora to showcase the bandage wrapped around his left eye and the rest of his forehead. "By all means, nobody knows. It pierced through my brain and weakened my sense of balance but didn't kill me. So, now I am dependent on this little guy to move around." He lightly lifted his cane.
"I will make sure you never walk again." Nobody said and turned his injured hand into a fist, causing a big splash of blood to come out. He swung his hand like a sword and spread the blood right into Alan's only exposed eye, making him temporarily blind. "I am going to kill you and that Overseer!"
But Alan did not allow himself to be exploited, and so he blindly charged towards the man in black with his shoulder and hit the automatic door, sending both of them to the other side of the hallway with unmatched strength.
He did not know how he managed to output such a strong force; maybe something protective within him gave him strength he did not originally possess. He rubbed his eye in hopes of swiping the blood away, and once he did, it looked like his eye was bloodshot, with his pupil being yellow instead of blue. It was glimmering with determination and power.
"O5-9," Alan called out to her, "You should leave immediately; this place is dangerous."
"SCP-173 is on the loose, and all of the site pathways are shut down." O5-9 replied from the other side. "You need to go to the administration room to revert the shutdowns, which would take too long."
That statue's called SCP-173? Whatever, Alan had to find a quicker solution. And he did, but at the cost of property damage. Alan walked next to the Overseer and told her to stay away from the wall.
Then, Alan squeezed his fist as hard as he could before delivering all of his power into the wall. It got destroyed, torn to hundreds of pieces and dust, and an explosive force spread to the outside. Now they had immediate access to the outside, but Alan's knuckle was destroyed as a result. It bled rapidly.
He ignored the pain.
The Overseer was amazed by the power display, and his tolerance to pain was a sweet aftertaste for her. Now that this piece of gold caught her attention, she came to realize how handsome he looked. Young, strong, determined. His glowing yellow eye was very cool, too. A guy once in a lifetime. She would definitely accept him as her—
"Leave." Alan interrupted her thoughts. His voice was very dominant and commanding. "Go far away, and make sure no harm comes to you." He walked towards the door he just broke, the constant noise of his blood dripping following him from behind.
"Wh…What about you?" The Overseer asked.
"I know this person. He and I have a bit of bad history together. It's personal, you can say."
O5-9 Stayed silent for a small moment. "Try not to die, alright?" She said. That one destroyed all of the cool personality she built up over the years. The hesitance in her voice was obvious.
"Will try." Alan simply replied before walking out of the doorframe and entering the hallway again. And O5-9 shortly ran out with the book in her hands.
Nobody slowly got up; the metallic door was resting beneath him. He saw Alan standing at the other side of the corridor, slowly approaching him. "Defeating a cheater by cheating better… you truly were raised by the Boss."
"Cheating?" Alan replied. "We both are unarmed…" He threw his golden gun far away to his back. "…And we both lack a functioning hand, your left and my right. I think we're on equal ground."
"Quite a funny dynamic, is it not?" Twelve said, getting a few steps closer himself before stopping. "How about we add another one? You become six feet under, and I reach for the skies. See? Up and down, I'd say it's a good deal."
"Considerable," Alan replied back in an ironic manner. "But I have a lot of things to do. Can't get this suit dirty, you know?"
Alan extended his bleeding hand forward. "Come."
Twelve launched himself forward, throwing a fist that equaled a grenade in power. Alan responded with a fist of his own, and once the two hands collided, it produced a shockwave that spread throughout the facility. It even made O5-9's hair dance with the wind, who had already made a distance from the site.
The lights started to flicker as a reaction, but the two paid no mind to it as they were more concerned with having their second hands almost destroyed.
Newton's third law: Giving force to an object makes the object give you equal force. In other words, not only did they punch each other, but also themselves, making their bodies unable to withstand the strength and leaving both of them immobile until the shock swimming through their bodies faded away. Twelve took advantage of Alan's stunned state and rushed again, throwing the same fist.
This time, Alan dodged it, threw a knee to his abdomen, and kicked him a few steps away. Nobody spit out a little bit of blood and wiped it onto his sleeve. He quickly rushed again, faster than before. It caught the golden boy off guard and got a punch on the face, followed up by another. The man in black then kicked him on the knees, grabbed him by the throat, and threw him against a wall.
The golden boy broke through the wall, conveniently landing on an office chair while the oncoming debris destroyed the table next to him. The chair spun violently and moved back. It stopped once it hit the next wall.
Alan put a hand onto his head; he swore he could actually see birds and stars spinning on top of his head. Once his head stopped spinning, he saw the man's silhouette approach him amidst the smoke.
Alan quickly checked his surroundings, took a sharp piece of wood from the remains of the table, and grabbed a mop nearby. That kick hurt his knees, so he came up with a brilliant idea.
He used the mop to push the chair close to the office door and then punched it down. He shook his hand in pain before making his way out.
The man in black came out of the smoke, seeing nobody in the room. He turned his head to see the absence of an entrance door. He followed. To his right, he saw Alan getting away with an office chair by using the mop like a boat shovel before turning a corner.
"The fuck? Hey!!" He ran behind him.
Alan used the back of the mop stick to kick down a shot-down surveillance camera and check the cables. It still had electricity. He carefully put it in his pocket and kept going.
"Now, we need water…"
He kept pushing the chair and soon found a bunch of lockers on his way.
"Item lockers for employees…" Alan spoke to himself. "Looking at all of them one by one would take too long."
Alan knocked on his head with his knuckle. "Hey, Intuition! Help me!" And soon, he got a feeling about which locker to choose. He held the handle and pulled out the entire face of the locker.
There it was. A bottle of water. Alan took it with a smirk and turned to his left to go back for his plan. But Nobody was already standing right in front of him. Alan's smirk faded away faster than light.
Alan slowly looked up to the towering Black man. "Hi." He said with a fake smile.
Nobody grabbed the chair by the nylon frame and spun it faster than light. Then, he kicked the chair, making it crash onto a wall. Alan fell out of it; the bottle's cap opened and poured on the floor. Alan held his head again. "Oh, hey, more birds…" He collapsed.
Nobody approached the lying golden boy, stepped on the wet floor, and picked him up by the throat. "You think this is funny, faker?"
Alan held his arm to let him go. "Y-Yeah… Wanna know what's funnier?"
"What?" Nobody replied.
Alan reached into his pocket and dropped the broken camera onto the small body of water. Electricity ran through both of their bodies. Nobody quickly dropped Alan, but he himself was still getting electrocuted. Alan grabbed the mop and pushed the camera out of the water. The electrocution stopped.
Nobody collapsed to the ground belly-up, smoke coming out of his body. His fedora was detached from his head. Alan dipped his mop into the water and approached the man. Now he was the towering one. "What do you think? Was that funny?"
Nobody gritted his teeth in anger. "Fuck. You."
"Aw, maybe not." Alan replied. "Here's a pun then. What idiom does janitors use to threaten people?"
Twelve didn't reply.
Alan raised his mop. "I'm going to mop the floor with you." And then pressed it onto his face. He started to run, dragging Nobody on the ground with him. His glimmering yellow eye left short trails as he ran across the facility at superspeed within seconds.
Then he stopped and looked back. The ground was shining brightly. All clean. Alan let go of the mop and grabbed him by the face. "Let me return the favor." He said, and then threw him with immense force, making him go through countless walls.
Twelve coughed up a lot of blood, his nose was broken, and a long cut went vertically on his face's left side, rendering his left eye blind. His suit and pants were shredded, from small cuts to big pieces missing.
He weakly looked around and saw Alan's golden gun lying near him. His eyes— eye— widened and grabbed the gun, hiding it behind himself. He put a hand on the wall and used it as a support to get up.
The light above Twelve was flickering violently. He walked to the side of the gap and waited. Soon, Alan walked out of the smoke. Both Gold and Coal came eye to eye, staring at each other without any words.
Twelve was blinking fast, while Alan's was slow. Alan took a step forward. "Give up. The Boss will be—"
4 quick shots fired onto the golden boy's right arm, completely dismembering it from the body. Alan's eyes widened before the pain came rushing down onto his nerves. He screamed.
Nobody held his gun pointed, smoke coming out of the barrel, hand shaking. He watched and listened as the blood poured down like a waterfall. "You lost." Twelve said, adrenaline going through his body. "To win against a cheater is to cheat better."
Alan turned his broken hand into a fist and squeezed it.
"One more move, and you are de—"
Alan produced the sharp wooden piece and rushed at superspeed, severing Twelve's left arm.
"I guess you can say… now we really are… unarmed."
They both collapsed to the ground at the same time.
A big boom echoed through the skies of the earth, and the glass and trees nearby waved in agony as the shockwave broke a piece of them. Where the facility once was was now replaced by a mushroom cloud rising into the dark night.
The air was now filled with dust, debris, and pieces of gold cloth. Some descended onto the ground rather violently, while others floated down gently. The sudden detonation of the warheads came unexpectedly to both gold and coal.
The gold was destroyed, and coal was nowhere to be seen.
There was a sudden impact that left a small crater on the ground. But there was no object to be seen after the air around cleared.
Then, a mechanical buzz played out, and the gold slowly became visible to the eye. Alan was heavily injured but took a nuke face-on.
He struggled to stand up at first; his cane was gone, he was missing an arm and now his entire body was bleeding out. Each minicule movement felt like an inner muscle was being ripped open. Each breath he took felt like inhaling fire. But against all odds and pain, he did it.
…before falling off again after the first step. No cane after all. And so, he crawled. And crawled until he was in a familiar place, crawled until his bones and tissues were nonfunctional. And his only eyewitness was the moon above.
Two kilometers. His body couldn't take it anymore. He turned himself belly-up and looked at the stars above. It hurt. God, it hurt. He closed his eyes, not knowing if he would get to open them again.
"Hey." A voice close by said. It was a familiar feminine voice. Alan shot open his eyes, only eyeballing around his field of view as he couldn't afford to turn his head anywhere.
"H-Hello?" Alan said loudly, waiting for anything in return.
Then, after the footsteps of shoes crushing grass came closer, a shadow was cast above him as the figure stood in front of the moonlight. "Need help, pretty?"
"Sure… I could use some." Alan replied weakly before feeling a palm get pressed onto his chest. A small bit of green light emitted from the contact, and he felt all the wounds close themselves up like a superspeed regeneration, and regenerated his missing arm. Including the clothe too.
Alan's body and mind relaxed; all that agonizing pain was gone in mere seconds. He tried to stand up, but couldn't because… no cane. The figure helped him get up by holding him by his armpits and lifting him.
"Thanks…" Alan said. "May I know who you… oh."
It was O5-9.
"I thought you ran away, Miss."
"I did, just not too far away. A part of me didn't want to leave you with him." The Overseer replied. "Did you kill him?"
"I… don't know. I hope I didn't." He replied.
"You hope?" She repeated.
"Killing is something I will never do," Alan confirmed. "No matter how terrible a person is, we have to be better than the opponent."
"I'm pretty sure he is fine." O5-9 replied back; she was pretty sure he was dead, though.
"Is it possible for you to fix my balance?" Alan looked at her in the eyes. Hoping, almost pleadingly.
"I can, but I won't." She chuckled.
"Eh?"
She opened her hand, and a cane manifested inside her palm. She extended it to the golden boy, keeping a cocky smirk. "You being dependent on a cane makes you look very cute. And also very fashionable."
Alan quietly took the cane. He did not know if that was an insult or a real compliment, or a mix of both, but it did embarrass him. He separated himself from her embrace and put a small distance between them.
"Face's lookin' red, Goldie."
What did she just call me?
"I-I'm leaving. Bye." Alan started to walk back home, the exact path he came with. O5-9 followed him from behind.
She chuckled. "Okay, I'm sorry."
Alan looked over his shoulder. "Don't you have anywhere to go, Miss?"
"Well, I do, but we both came from the same path, so I'll be a guest for a while."
Alan sighed.
The moon was right above the two. The moonlight was bright enough to see their surroundings, so visibility was not a concern in the dead of the night. Alan was exhausted from the walk, while Sophia was unbothered.
Alan paused his movement and sat on the grass to rest. He looked at the mysterious girl that was towering over him now. "How are you not tired?"
"We O5s used to rely on guardians for our protection for years," Overseer began, crouching down to his level. "Aaron decided to come up with the idea of genetically making us superhuman. Both for convenience and assured protection."
Alan sighed, almost in jealousy. "He lost his left arm in the process, though. Now he is more of a cyborg than a superhuman." She added.
"Superhuman, huh?" Alan repeated to himself. "How far does that title go?" He replied to Overseer.
"I can turn Mount Everest into millions of pieces with a single fist if I really wanted to." She replied with a smile.
Alan delayed his response for a few seconds. He didn't feel any sense of surprise or shock; maybe he was getting used to the world of the supernatural. "I see… then why didn't you defeat Twelve by yourself?"
"Twelve?" Sophia repeated in confusion.
"That particular Nobody is numbered 12 by the rest of the group. A rogue one I was sent to take care of and get that book in the pro-…" Alan's eyes widened. "AH! THE BOOK! I FORGOT ABOUT IT!!"
Sophia laughed. "I have it with me, don't worry." She produced the book. "I was going to give it to you later."
Alan used his cane as a support for getting up, and Sophia uncrouched in response. "Why would you? Is it not important to you or others?" Alan asked.
Sophia's tone suddenly shifted from playful to serious and nervous. "Truth be told…" she began. "Our boss, Administrator, has been acting weird for years. He started to disregard the Ethics Committee's concerns during operations and became unnecessarily brutal with the subjects."
Alan listened attentively.
"It was Aaron who called him out for his behavior," she continued. "But he got fired out of the Council two days later. He ran away before he could be amnesticized, and now nobody knows where he is. This book is dangerous, and I believe it's in a safer place within your hands." She extended the book towards the golden boy.
Alan extended his hand and gently grabbed it. He wondered why Boss needed such an ordinary-looking book. "Thanks." He said and examined the book.
"Do not open it, by the way." Sophia added.
Alan fixed his gaze on her. "Why?"
"Well, this book is categorized as SCP-4485 by our database. Reading it without deep understanding of logical systems and stuff will drive you mad." Sophia replied back. "But if you can brute-force your mind to comprehend SCP-4485, you will become one of the strongest reality benders there is."
"Ah… makes sense to why it's classified." Alan commented to himself before opening the book. The contests inside were… nonsense. It was full of random writings with pages unconnected to each other. It had drawings that poorly resembled humans, animals, and shapes.
In that instance—in that smallest unity of a second, Planck time—Alan's vision was distorted, broken, shattered. As if reality were a glass and he just threw a stone at it by looking at this book. In the next Planck Time, his vision was static. There was nothing left within his perception of reality as floods of information started to flow inside his mind. In the next, his mind was reality. He was the heart of the universe, and every galaxy, nebula, supercluster, and other space matter was a part of his brain. In the next, his broken perception of reality was undone, like a motion being reversed. In the next, his procession was done.
In a total of 5 Planck Times, he understood everything. He understood the very reason and axiomatic bones of the universe. He understood what makes sense and what doesn't. And now reality was at the tips of his fingers.
The aftermath was what took longer, as he felt as if his very essence was constantly switching from being to non-being like a light switch.
For Sophia, though, he was just standing there like a statue. She even waved her hand in front of his eyes to catch his attention. "Hey, Goldie, are you alright?"
Alan blinked in quick succession as he came back to his senses, immediately accompanied by a headache. "Ahhh, sh…" Golden Boy wouldn't swear. "!@?#"
"Huh?" Sophia was left stunned and then let out a short laugh. "Did you just make a beeping noise with your mouth?"
Alan let out a weak smile. "Mama raised a gentleman. Ahhh, my head."
Sophia spread her arms open. "Come into my arms, Goldie. Let me help you 'till it's gone."
"Woah, woah, woah—Ah, how convenient! My headache's no more!" He took a step back, laughing nervously. And immediately started to book it.
"Hey!! Come back here!" She followed her from behind.
They both continued their journey. Sophia had locked Alan by the head within her armpit, and he had a defeated look on his face. That chase lasted mere seconds. She was faster than a speeding damn bullet!
She looked up; the moon was still above them despite an hour passing. She then turned her gaze to the eastern horizon. "Strange. Sunrise should've begun by now."
"I'm responsible for that," Alan said from beneath. "I wanted to show you something, if you could let me— ow—go."
"And how'd you do that? Stop the rotation of the earth? Or our solar system?" She cockily tightened her grip.
"Ow-ow-ow! I can't explain it in any logical sense, but know that I did alter a few things."
"Okay, fine." She let go of the golden boy. "What's up?"
Alan held his back neck and made a short distance away from the Overseer.
"When I was a kid, I used to watch a cartoon on the television. It was about alien warriors fighting each other. They would scream their lungs out and change their hair color." He said. "And they would gain a fire-like look surrounding their bodies. Ever since I was a kid, I always wanted something like that."
Alan closed his eyes and slowly opened his arms. Then, suddenly, a golden aura formed around his body, emitting light as if it were a real fire. Overseer was surprised, both by the magic and by the movement of the aura itself. The fire was almost… gentle. It moved slowly, it did not emit any kind of heat, and it was perfectly transparent.
With now the golden boy being a source of light himself, their surroundings brightened. Sophia then realized that they were in a straight path with both sides of it filled with flaccid sunflowers. It was the same place.
Alan opened his eyes and waved O5-9 to come closer. Sophia obeyed.
While she was getting closer, Alan crouched and gently pulled one of the sunflowers from the ground. When she was near, he rose up and offered it to her. She extended her hand to take it, but she was cautious about it due to the golden fire, but she took it anyway. No burns or pain.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Alan said, his voice was totally calm. "I have been here only once before, and yet it almost feels like… home." He fixed his gaze on the field.
Before the Overseer could say anything, she noticed that the sunflower she was holding was perking up before her eyes and turned in the direction of Alan. She quickly looked at the field as well; all the sunflowers were turning their heads in real-time, looking at Alan as they regained their lively leaves.
He smiled.
"Keep the flower," He said, looking at the amazed Overseer. "Let's keep going, I'll guide you."
A city, with the quietness of the gentle winds going past their ears, stood in front of them.
"This is where I depart, dear." She said and stopped walking. Alan noticed it immediately.
"Leaving so soon?" He replied half-jokingly.
"Well, it's been three hours since we began to walk together. I wouldn't say that's soon."
Alan chuckled. "Where are you going?"
"To our main facility. Can't tell that one. And you?"
"Home." Alan replied simply. "It's been only a day, and yet I miss it so much. I hope I didn't make Boss wait too long."
"Boss?" Sophia repeated.
"Nobody special." Alan winked.
"Well then." Sophia said. "Off I go. Hope to see you soon about that stopwatch, dear."
"W-Wait!" Alan called out. "I didn't get to state my name! It's Alan!" He said loudly as she purposefully kept making distance from him. "Alan Dell'oro!"
And she was gone within the blink of an eye. He couldn't tell if it was teleportation or if this girl was Flash incarnate, but he did widen a smile upon realization.
This supernatural stuff? It was fun.
He sighed in relief and turned off his golden fire surrounding him. Now approaching the city that housed his house.
Soon, he made it home. He opened the door and put the book aside on a small table, reversing the powers it had given to him. And then he immediately collapsed on his long couch.
He closed his eyes and thought, recounting today's events.
Twenty, that statue, they were dead or destroyed. They were still out there. His intuition told him that.
But he wasn't worried about it. The boss said he would take care of the aftermath.
His dream slowly started to manifest into the darkness of his eyelids, an empty space.
A figure was standing right in front of him. Someone he never met, and yet didn't feel like a stranger.
"Boss is very proud of you." He said and extended his hand forward. "Take my hand; he wants to meet you in person."
Alan accepted.
And everything was black.
He picked up the transmitter of the rotary phone, and dialed a number.
He put it on his ear, "O5-3" written on his arm.
"Administrator, I have news for you."