7 Jan 1990, 11 PM
Another dark & stormy night among many. Seems like that’s just all there is. The holy war is over now, which means I get some me-time back in 1990… Damn. I missed New Years. Bet it didn’t miss me though. Need to get handwriting straight again. Haven’t journaled (‘s’at even a word?) in a while. Wish I had me some company.
Going in the hotel now. Have to get in VIP room. Some C.I. HVTs hidden away in there. I’m on Foundie payroll this time. Set up a little gizmo on the fuse box and the generator. Let’s kick this off.
“Hello there lad. Could I see your I.D.? Normal procedure,” the man at reception requested from the one across from him, visibly in a haze; Nobody was feigning hysteria, something he was good at.
“I’m proper sorry, I’m not doin’ too hot right now. I just needed somewhere to lie for the night,” he responded.
“Oh, it’s no issue then. I know the feeling. We’ll let you stay free for the night," he assured.
“Gee, thanks-a-million, sir. I really need that,” he stated. “My mind, it feels like it’s cutting up.”
“Yea-” The hotel’s power was suddenly shut off at the press of a button on Nobody’s sleeve, as two small explosions were heard. The lobby broke into mayhem.
“Good God, Tim was supposed to fix the box from blowing last week. Terribly sorry,” the receptionist apologized profusely.
“Oh, there’s no need for apologies, sir,” Nobody reassured. “No need whatsoever.”
As the man told Nobody to stay put, he ran towards the power station to fix whatever was going on… but what would Nobody be if not disobedient?
Nobody made his way into the stairwell and gazed up above him. For Apsel's sake, too many stairs for three Insurgents, he internalized. Just then, a light flickered on in his head; he still had a grappling hook, stuffed in a dark crevice of his suit jacket. He removed it and aimed carefully toward the peak of the flights and fired, hooking on the guardrail and surging to the top. After sticking his cane between his legs and narrowly avoiding banging his trilby against the surrounding stairs, he put the line and hook back into the gun, before recontaining it in his coat.
I haven't had a real mission in a hot second, but that's okay. Three Insurgents. I've got this. I'm Nobody.
He approached the door, raising up his cane.
Knock, knock.
"Yeah, give me a sec', will ya?" a voice shouted, muffled, from inside.
Five pass. Again, Knock knock knock.
The door swung open, revealing an armed guard to greet Nobody. Flanking him were two muscled men, fit for paramilitary, and one leaner than the others. The lights were on, but flickering. Strange.
“Welcome to the suite, chap. The hell do you want?”
“Yeah, who's ya leader?" another joked.
“Excuse me sirs, just needed somewhere to go. Chaos downstairs,” he explained apologetically.
“Well you’re safe with us. Just scram when power’s back on, or you’ll be putin’ yer teeth back in,” exclaimed the man with the largest build, left most side of the table. He notably had a leviathan tattooed to his neck. The one in the center—the lean one—speaks.
“So kid, you need anything else?” he asked in a calm but stern manner. I am at least two centuries older than this man.
“Yes, in fact. I'm just on the run right now, some big group."
"From who? Da Ghostbusters?"
The posse bursted into hysterics. The guard smirked.
"Ha! No, just a group calling themselves the 'Foundation'. Was hoping for refuge."
The group got silent. The guard visibly and audibly tightened his grip on his gun.
“Kid, you got no clue what yer dealin’ with,” warned the leviathan goon.
“Yeah,” agreed the one to the right most side, with a Rising Star tattooed to his forearm. “I mean, if they catch you and you’re lucky, you might remember your name. They are a scourge to the planet, seeped in every little hole,” he explained. “Everywhere you go, they’re there—”
“Omnipresent,” the lean one finished. “They won't stop 'til they find you, and they will put you through hell, literally. You’re safe with us.”
“Well, good to know I have allies here. I’ve never heard of them before. I didn’t know they were that big a threat.”
“You don’t seem very anxious. Why’s that?” asked the Rising Star.
“Brain injury. Lost that,” he lied again. I do wonder how absurd my lies can get. Best not to risk it.
“Sorry kid.”
“I’m gonna go hit the tank. Excuse me, gentlemen.” Nobody visited the restroom, and removed a small card from a pack of fifty-two. A handy little thing from a friend. He then looked around for ideas. He noticed the sink, and had another little spark. He then saw that the room had acoustic panels, powerful ones. This was very convenient for Nobody, who had now been wondering what type of person would soundproof a restroom.
Slipping the playing card in his sleeve and propping his cane up against the wall, he peered his head out of the restroom. “Hey, sink’s not workin’, can I get some help?”
“Yeah, a sec’,” the one with the Rising Star responded. In a moment, he was there. When he approached the sink, Nobody closed the door.
“So what's wrong with it? I don't see anything of—”
Nobody slammed the man’s face into it, immediately concussing him and breaking the sink.
“Your sink isn’t working. You should probably call someone.”
Nobody kicked the man for good measure, washed his hands and retrieved the cane, exiting the restroom. “Hello. He’s looking at it now,” he lied again.
“Ah, hope Tim doesn’t mess the shit up. He’s not really good for technical things, bless his heart.”
“I understand,” Nobody falsely reassured. “My father was the same way, ha.” They all shared a small laugh before Nobody sat down.
“So, you never shared your names, gents,” Nobody reminded them with a tone that insisted they follow.
“I’m Jeremy,” said the one with the leaner build.
“Tommy,” the one with the leviathan tattoo answered. “The one with the gun over there is Lee.” The guard at the door gave a salute and a smirk.
“Well, I’m obliged. The name is Pluto,” Nobody entertained. Another lie. He does not know his name.
“Nice to meet ya, Pluto. Welcome to the skyline.”
“Could I have a tour?” Nobody curiously asked.
“Don't'cha think that's a little fast there?" responded Jeremy. “How's your night been?”
“Well, it's been alright. Kind of uneventful apart from the blackout, which reminds me; how do you have power in here? I didn't notice a generator,” he inquired.
“Magic. Long story with that group you mentioned. We'll explain it later,” Jeremy answered.
“Huh. Not as weird as your soundproofed restroom, ey?”
“Suite came with it,” Tommy answered without missing a beat. “We were as confused as you. Anyways, ‘bout that tour, I suppose so,” Tommy gestured towards Jeremy, who guided Nobody to the large window leading to the balcony.
When they arrived outside, Nobody noticed a button next to the large glass door separating the interior and exterior. He connected the dots and pressed it, closing the curtains.
“Ah, what a lovely view!” exclaimed Nobody. “I see why you live here.” He let out a breath of fresh air, as if mentally preparing himself for something.
“Yeah, and rent’s manageable.” He changed the subject shortly after a moment of silence. “So, you mentioned the ‘Foundation’? What have you heard?”
“Well, I'd entertain you, but I don’t feel like drawing this conversation out. Thus, I’ll keep it short…” Nobody drew a knife from the crown of his cane and slashed the man’s legs, then just as swiftly covered his mouth with his inner elbow, refusing to let go of said cane.
“The Jailors send their regards.”
Nobody sliced the man’s throat open and threw him over the edge of the balcony, before wiping his blade and resealing it. He dusted himself off and returned inside, careful not to leave the curtains open too much. But it was enough to cause suspicion.
“Ay, Pluto, where’d Jeremy go? ‘S’he out there?” asked Tommy, who noticed a dark spot on Nobody's sleeve.
“You’ll join him shortly.” Nobody summoned the card and immediately flashed it to the man, careful not to look at it himself. He doesn’t know if it would affect him, but doesn’t want to try. Tommy immediately began seizing and crying on the floor. As Lee raised his weapon, Nobody flipped over the table, taking cover behind it and narrowly avoiding a frenzy of gunfire.
Lee began to round the table, careful the entire time. When he got there, nobody was there. Before he could catch on and turn around, Nobody began stabbing him from behind, causing him to drop his gun. After a flurry of slashes, Lee finally screamed and threw Nobody into the kitchen, sending his trilby and cane flying as he impacted the fridge. Too much armor, damnit!
As Nobody regained his bearings, the guard had already reobtained his gun and took aim. Nobody managed to glare at him just the right way to disorient him long enough to get the running start to a dropkick. As Lee was sent tumbling over — his gun flying away — Nobody caught it. When the guard looked back up, Nobody stepped on his chest and opened fire on his helmet, hoping it would get through. After just three seconds, he saw blood. He knew he won the scuffle. Holy shit, is that thaumaturgic armor or something?
Dropping the gun, grabbing his hat and stuffing the blade back into the cane, he strutted back toward the now weeping Tommy in the corner, drawing a suppressed handgun from the darkness of his coat and blasting him in the dome, putting him out of his misery. He adjusted his bow tie.
That was… so, so much sloppier, than I would have fancied. Oh well.
Nobody pulled a small radio from his sleeve. “I have taken care of the Insurgents. Once I have the intelligence, I’ll send it with Director D. Light. You can send my package with her, I’ll pick it up.”
“Affirmative, GoI-000. We'll be waiting at 02's Way for her. Happy huntin’.”
“Sure. Out.”
He made his way to a computer located in the corner. Let’s see. How to get this open…
Hey, I still have 005 on me. He drew the Skeleton Key from his coat. Holding it up to the monitor, the passcode field is automatically filled in and unlocked. Poof, ta-da!
He scrambled through different folders and files, eventually finding some titled ‘Operation Full Stop.’ It asked for a code, to which Nobody utilized the key yet again. He was greeted with images and such, detailing the layout and weak points of hundreds of Sites, Eigenweapons even he didn’t know existed, Ways to different places that surely no one else had written down, blueprints of a device that could destroy a whole small nation, and many other plans of similar velocity, most including major Groups of Interest. What the fuck? Even for A-1 dissenters, this is absurd.
Nobody grabbed a small camera, a cigar, and a lighter from his coat, as well as an empty folder lying nearby, and got to work.
Nobody walked through the long, stainless white corridors of Site-01 carrying a folder, carefully escorted by two Alpha-1 operatives, each having a gun pointed to Nobody’s head. He didn’t prefer it, but understood it, in a way. Safety is important when dealing with one of your most valuable.
The stomping of their boots provided an incessant clash with the clacking of his cane against the metal ground, an attribute of which he found annoying.
“GoI-000,” the one on the left started. “Please step into the door. You have five minutes with the Administrator, and will be terminated if you exceed it.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve talked to him before. I know your regulations.” He stepped toward the door of the Overseer boardroom, unusually evacuated, barring one figure in the center. The guards shut the door behind him, bathing the room in darkness, save for the bright smile of the man inside.
“Nobody! Long time no see, old friend,” exclaimed the Administrator of the SCP Foundation, Fritz Williams, visibly ecstatic to see Nobody again.
“Same to you, Willy. I got something for you.”
They sat down at the same desk that the Overseers had used so many times before, Nobody in Aaron Siegel’s seat; O5-1, and Fritz in his own, opposite to it.
"So I've heard. You got a USB or something to look at this?” he jokingly asked.
“C’mon Fritzy, you know those aren’t made for another six years, even with the Shift back in '60,” he quips back. “I took some images for you. Check these.”
Nobody slid the folder to Fritz, which began levitating. The photographs inside began flipping about wildly, for just three seconds, before stopping and falling back down to the oval table, just as they were. Nobody noted Fritz’ face, which flashed with both concern and excitement.
“Well, that’s new. Do you know if there’s any more?” he asked, a small smile creeping up his face.
“I scrubbed through their computer three more times after photographing,” he responded. “Turned up with nothing but dummy folders.”
“Shame we couldn’t get more. Y'know I've been wishing something big would happen, weird as it may sound.” He continued, “Well, I’ll call Ten to see if he can’t run through SCiPnet and catch any moles or the sort that could grab them this much info.” He finished, “I’ll probably grab One for interrogations as well, in case something does happen to pop up. He has his charms.”
“I’d also probably contact most GoIs too, huh?” Nobody suggested.
“Yeah, I’ll get to it. Hell, knowing al Fine, she’s probably already caught on somehow and nuked the whole damn Insurgency,” he joked.
“Fair.” He continued, “Y’know, I’ve always admired how laid back you are compared to the other Overseers. Wouldn’t expect that from someone of your… profession.”
“Well, the way I see it, you can’t afford to have so much doom and gloom in such a doomy and gloomy world. Bad for morale," he responded.
“I understand your sentiment,” another lie. He doesn’t see the world in a positive light. Not at all. “Be seeing yo—”
“Wait, before you leave,” Fritz interjected. “When I was informed that Nobody wanted to see me, I made sure to grab your package. And don't worry, I saved Light the trek.”
“Thank you,” Nobody exclaimed, grabbing the package.
“So, what’s in it, if I might ask?" curiously asked Fritz. Nobody thinks for a moment.
“Sorry, that’s above your clearance. Trust me,” Nobody chuckled out.
“When have I not?” Fritz quipped. They shared a laugh.
And with that, Nobody exited the boardroom of the Overseers, escorted by Alpha-1 guards to and out of the elevator, and left Site-01. Fritz Williams sat quietly in his room for a few moments, before laughing to himself and pulling out his personal phone, calling D.C. al Fine.
8 Jan 1990, 4 AM
Fuckin’ hell. Don’t know what ‘Operation Full Stop.’ is, and frankly, kind of don’t want to. How the C.I. even got their hands on all that is beyond even me. If I had to guess by the name and contents, they’re plotting an attack to cripple most GoIs.
I don’t know if I want to have a place in this, I haven’t gotten my hands dirty in much too long. I think I’m gonna grab some IHOP and hit the hay. Maybe gamble a bit at Undervegas, never know. But I also don’t want to leave Fritz hanging, he’s a good friend. Hell, mate. I’ll figure it out. Nice seein’ Fritz again. Miss that ecstatic attitude he always had.
TO-DO LIST!!
-Grab some IHOP, one of the few places that does Belgian right, I’m famished six ways from Sunday.
-See if I can’t warn Light about what’s to come. In case she didn’t get the memo, you never know with the Jailors.
-Sleep. I can’t hold myself like this today. Guess I’ll have to change my schedule a bit for a few days. Maybe it'll help.
-Later, hit up slots in Undervegas. Gambling is always a win. Always.