rating: +52+x

I knew something was wrong that day. Knew it from the top of my hat to the tip of my tail. Knew it in my bones, in the cracks in the paint on the Site walls, in my own reflection at the bottom of the bowl. After doing this for so long, you just develop a sense. And when I slinked through the underground passages of Facility-57 that day, my senses were telling me all hell was about to break loose.

Nobody else seemed to think anything was wrong. No, they were going about their day, checking clipboards, attending meetings, performing experiments. I tried to get Everwood's attention, but they only chuckled and straightened my hat. Dowell wasn't much better. So I went straight to the top — and lo and behold, Director Venceslao is nowhere to be found. "In a meeting," his secretary claims halfheartedly. A likely story.

They're mice, you see — mice love to stick to their routine. Wake up at twilight, spend the night scurrying around in the walls, eating, defecating, and then return to their holes to sleep the day away. Ignorant of the threats they face.

But I'm no mouse.

Item#: SCP-057-INT
Containment Class:
Secondary Class:
Disruption Class:
Risk Class:


Main access door to SCP-057-INT.


Exclusion zone around SCP-057-INT.

Special Containment Procedures: A campaign discouraging hikers from attempting to scale the Andes, particularly at the Chilean-Argentinean border, has been initiated. A perimeter has been established around both sides of the border with multiple checkpoints under the guise of geological research. Any individuals caught attempting to access SCP-057-INT are to be captured, interrogated, amnesticized, and released.

Description: SCP-057-INT refers to the sudden manifestation of a mega-structure largely located beneath the Andes Mountains between the border of Chile and Argentina. SCP-057-INT contains multiple entities claiming membership in the Foundation.

Further investigation is pending.

Discovery: SCP-057-INT was initially discovered by Foundation geological outposts on Easter Island, which reported a sudden shift in seismic activity in the area of the Andes alongside multiple earthquakes in the surrounding area. Due to the lack of any previous activity in the Nazca and South American tectonic plates, the earthquakes were deemed an anomaly, and Foundation field agents were sent to investigate.

Agent Carlos Gutierrez was the first to discover signs of SCP-057-INT. The following is a log of his interaction with an SCP-057-INT entity recorded on his standard field agent recording box.


Gutierrez: This is A-1221 to homebase. Haven't found anything yet. Just rocks.

[Five minutes of extraneous data expunged.]

Gutierrez: Hold on, I think I see something. It's blue and… is that a crab?

[Sounds of Gutierrez climbing and grunting.]

Gutierrez: I think it's… dancing?

[Gutierrez grunts and climbs again.]

Gutierrez: Yeah, it's a crab. But what the hell is a crab doing here? We're so far from the beach… Hello, little guy. How did you get up here?

???: Holis, ¿como andas, amigo?

[There is a five-second silence.]

Gutierrez: Command, the crab just spoke to me in Spanish.

Command: Engage it in conversation. We are sending a containment team to your location.

[In Spanish] Gutierrez: <Hey, buddy. How are you?>

Crab: <I can't really complain. I got assigned a top-secret mission by Director Venceslao! So I need to be on the up and up!>

Gutierrez: <Oh yeah? And what is this mission?>

Crab: <I can't say!>

Gutierrez: <Oh, surely you can tell me. I'm your friend, remember?>

Crab: <Really? So you'll let me eat your dead skin?>

Gutierrez: <I, uh, well… Sure?>

Crab: <Yipee! Agent Blue Crab, away!>

Gutierrez: <Whoa, you're fast. Hey, watch it there! Aaah!>

Crab: <It's only going to tickle for a little bit!>

Gutierrez: <O-okay.>

Crab: <I promise you won't miss it! Sorry for jumping up to your head but the best dead skin is always on the scalp, you know?>

[There is a twenty-five-second silence.]

Gutierrez: <Hey now, that's enough picking at my scalp. Why don't you tell me about this mission of yours?>

Crab: <Well… Promise you won't tell anyone?>

Gutierrez: <Yes, I promise. Now go on then, get off my head and tell me.>

[The sound of skittering is audible as the crab presumably jumps off of Guiterrez' head.]

Crab: <Okay! So you see, the people who take care of me, the SCP something or other, they wanted me to go out and investigate the area around them because they said there was some sort of… uh… something failure event? I don't really know much about that stuff. But look at what I can do! Pow! Pow!>

[Gutierrez would later describe the crab as striking poses while puffs of gas emitted from its claws.]

Crab: <Pretty cool, huh?>

Command: Please attempt to gain more information about what it means by 'SCP'.

Gutierrez: <Indeed. So tell me, Agent Blue Crab, what is this 'SCP something or other'? What are they like?>

Crab: <You can call me Crabby, Agent Blue Crab is just my secret agent name. And they're typically really nice to me. I have my very own room, complete with friends like Doctor Helmit, Juan, Pedro, Gastón and Pepito! They also don't ever call me by my name, they call me… uh… what was it… SCP-ES-264? At least Doctor Helmit doesn't, and none of the other doctors. I think it's very rude of them to not call me by my name, but they're very stuffy about rules. You know how it is, don't you?>

Gutierrez: <More than you think.> [Gutierrez laughs.]

Crab: <Do you work for the SCP something or other too, mister?>

Gutierrez: <Wha— how did you— What?>

Crab: <I found it out when I was dancing earlier!>

Gutierrez: I've been made.

Crab: <Who are you talking to, friend?>

Command: The containment team is still a few minutes away. Grab it now, do not let it get away!

Crab: <Hey, why are you looking at me like that? You're giving me the heebie-jeebies.>

[The sound of Gutierrez diving for the Crab is audible.]

Crab: <Aaaah! I thought we were friends!>

Command: Do you have the object in your possession, Agent?

Gutierrez: Trying!

Crab: <I'm not inviting you to my tea party anymore!>

Gutierrez: Get over here you little—

[Gutierrez dives for the Crab again.]

Gutierrez: Gotcha!

Crab: <Aaaah! Help!>

Gutierrez: Command, I got it. How much longer until the unit arrives?

Crab: <You leave me no option! Take this, villain! Pium, pium!>

[Gutierrez later described the Crab as releasing a gas from its claws directly onto his face, causing him to become paralyzed and release the Crab.]

Crab: <Aaaaah! Director Venceslao! Help! Heeeelp!>


Note: Gutierrez recovered from the full body paralysis within an hour of being located by the recovery team.

Agent Gutierrez reported his findings to his superiors, who set up a tentative cordon in the immediate encounter zone and monitored for further activity. Due to the nature of the potential threat, the O5 Council called an emergency department heads meeting at Site-01 for the following day, allowing time for urgent research. The following conclusions were reached:

  • The Department of Containment reported that its agents are instructed to first attempt communication in English with individuals within the Veil of Secrecy, and no agent of theirs would have instigated a conversation with Agent Gutierrez in Spanish. They also noted that "Hello, how are you, friend?" is in no way an acceptable greeting while following established protocol. They further noted that they do not employ talking crabs. The DoC outlined over one dozen possible containment strategies, none of which carried any significant chance of success without the acquisition of more detailed information on the status of the anomaly;
  • The Temporal Anomalies Department reported that all signatories of the Multi-Foundation Pact of 1981 had been consulted on incidences of their Sites going dark. While over four hundred such losses were reported, none involved complete disappearance or talking crabs. The Spider Crab Protection Foundation offered to send a diplomatic envoy. The TAD recommended against this action, as the use of spider crabs in baseline reality Japanese cuisine has been kept from the Spider Crab Foundation. The TAD concluded that if SCP-057-INT represents an outpost of an alternate multiversal Foundation, said Foundation must either be unknown to the coalition, have been rejected for membership, or have rejected membership themselves. Extreme caution is thereby indicated;
  • The Emergent Threat Tactical Response Authority reported that while they do possess an emergency containment plan for the discovery of a hostile power underground in the Andes Mountains, as this plan consists of collapsing the Andes Mountains, they recommended diplomatic efforts be first attempted;
  • The GoI Research Group reported that their Director, Dr. Jay Everwood, is a fluent speaker of Spanish and would be willing to engage in diplomacy with SCP-057-INT should this be the will of the Council.

MTF π-3 ("Garcas Oligarcas").

The Council agreed to attempt renewed contact with SCP-057-INT before implementing more drastic containment measures. A small RES/CON team, escorted by MTF π-3 ("Garcas Oligarcas"), approached the outer border to SCP-057-INT by helicopter.


π-1: Command, we've touched down about point-seven-five klicks outside of the exclusion zone. Going to hike the rest of the way.

Command: Affirmative. Is everyone on the team accounted for?

Everwood: Healthy and hearty.

Masterson: Motion sickness notwithstanding.

Rodriguez: Oh, hush. This is Antonio; we're all fine.

Command: Acknowledged. The Atreus Array satellites have pinpointed the location of what looks to be an entrance to SCP-057-INT; we're uploading the GPS data now. That's your target. And please remember, caution. We don't want an internation— interdimensional incident.

[Thirty-five minutes of extraneous chatter abridged as the party hikes up the mountains.]

π-2: Contact.

[Several dozen meters up the winding path, a large blast door is visible, deeply set into the rock of the mountainside and sealed tightly shut. In front of it, a small group of people is gathered.]

Rodriguez: Are those— They're wearing Site Security uniforms.

Masterson: No, SiteSec uniforms are far uglier than that. Look at that camouflage and cut sleeves.

Everwood: Different, but not. Hey, doesn't that person missing the arm look a little like—

[As they approach, a handful of figures step to the front of the crowd: one man in a well-tailored suit, and two people in labcoats — one of them conspicuously missing an arm. The rest of the guards hold their rifles defensively. The man in the suit speaks.]

Unknown: [In Spanish] I don't know who you are, but this is a top-secret military install— Everwood?

Everwood: Me? Err… ¿Yo?

Masterson: What's he saying, Jay?

Unknown 2: No, yo— Espera, ¿qué?

[The individual in a labcoat missing an arm among the SCP-057-INT native entities takes a step forward.]

Rodriguez: Greetings from one Foundation to another! We mean you no harm! We are merely here to investigate the circumstances behind your appearance in our dimension.

Unknown 3: How do we know you are of the Foundation? And moreover, why do you have a clone of one of our own with you? How do we know she is not a trick?

Everwood: They, and I'm not a trick. If your dimension's version of me is anything like me, they're probably a Groups of Interest specialist.

Unknown 2: [Simultaneously] … Groups of Interest specialist!

Everwood: See? Told you. And if I know myself, I'm excitable about new groups. Heh.

Everwood: Tiene razón, Borja.

[The man in the suit clears his throat, straightens his tie, and steps forward with his hand extended toward Rodriguez.]

Unknown: So it seems the Foundation of this dimension has found us. Welcome to Facility-57. My name is Yerko Venceslao.

Rodriguez: It's a pleasure to meet you, Director Venceslao.

[Rodriguez and Venceslao shake hands. Both Everwoods approach one another, but do not shake hands. The man in a labcoat approaches Venceslao from behind, muttering in his ear.]

Unknown 3: [In Spanish] Director, are you sure it's a good idea to trust these people?

Venceslao: Relax, Dowell. Don't you remember SCP-ES-001? We need to work together.

Masterson: This is all fine and dandy, but how are we going to understand one another if I don't speak Spanish and you guys speak with such thick accents?

Everwood: [In Spanish, to Everwood] Does she always complain like that?

Everwood: No tienes ni idea. Masterson, how do you not speak Spanish?

Masterson: I'm subbing for someone, okay?

Dowell: Don't worry, gringa, we can speak a little slower for you.

[Masterson scoffs.]

Venceslao: [In Spanish] Dowell, behave.

Everwood: So I was thinking we shouldn't touch one another, just to make sure reality doesn't implode or anything like that.

Everwood: I was thinking the same thing. Let's split up then.

[Everwood-EN returns to their team while Everwood-ES walks back towards the security personnel.]

Venceslao: [In Spanish] Put down your weapons. These people are our guests.

[The guards lower their weapons and turn to re-enter the Facility. The blast doors slowly open.]

Venceslao: Shall we?

Rodriguez: By all means, lead the way.

Venceslao: Of course. Can I interest you in a Pepsi?



Humans aren't all bad, for certain. They're great at scooping litterboxes, carrying bags of food. But when you want something investigated? Well, you don't call a plumber to launch a rocket, do you? I kept a close eye on these strangers as Venceslao invited them in. Two Everwoods is interesting. Might just mean that whatever world we've landed in has an above-average number of one-armed researchers.

Oh, yes. I figured out the 'other world' thing immediately. Like I said, humans, not the best at such things. While the researchers were busy interviewing one another, I got to work. Discovered some interesting things about this reality — it is not terribly different. Slightly parallel to our own, a few historical shifts. Nothing major. The structure of the Foundation is much more hierarchical, for one — no regional commands.

That, and they don't seem to have a Facility-57. No records of Venceslao, Dowell, González, myself, or anyone else here. In fact, the only member of the staff that does exist in this Foundation's database is the illustrious Doctor Everwood.

All of this is fishy, and not in the salmon-treat way. I went to go clear my mind, find a tin-foil ball to play with. Bite some junior researchers for no reason. But it didn't work. The case was calling back to me, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. Everwood, it said. Look into Everwood.

Once more into the grimy underbelly of this facility I go.

Director Venceslao agreed to conduct a brief tour of Facility-57 to allow both groups to become acquainted.

Note: Conversation in Spanish is marked with chevrons (<Example.>) for ease of transcription.


[The baseline Foundation envoys are being led through the containment block by Director Venceslao. He has been joined by another Facility-57 scientist, a Dr. Von Braun. The Everwoods are engaged in hushed conversation with each other.]

Everwood: <Not gonna lie, I kinda hoped that if I ever met a version of me from another universe, they'd still have both arms.>

Everwood: <Yes, I had that same thought. Because of course I did.>

Venceslao: <…and this last chamber is where we keep the cow that resurrects Fidel Castro.]]>

Masterson: I understood Fidel Castro. What was that about Fidel Castro?

[The group turns a corner, and proceeds down a new corridor. The baseline Foundation delegates look back at the indicated chamber with obvious interest and confusion.]

Everwood: <I have questions about the cow.>

Everwood: <The cow is classified. We can't tell you about the cow without permission from the Regional Council.>

[Director Venceslao sighs.]

Venceslao: <I wonder how much trouble we're in for this back home.>

Everwood: <What do you mean? Were you guys in the middle of containing something major?>

Venceslao: <Not any more than usual, no. But the Regional Council is going to be under extremely heavy scrutiny for losing a whole Facility. This might be the O5s' excuse for taking us over entirely.>

[Director Venceslao gestures at a window.]

Venceslao: <That's Researcher Elliot. He dies constantly.>

[Researcher Elliot waves, disturbing a vial of liquid on the desk in front of him. The room is soon obscured entirely by green smoke. Coughing is audible; it stops abruptly.]

Venceslao: <Constantly.>

Everwood: <I don't understand your hierarchy. What's the Regional Council, and why are the O5s not already in charge?>

Everwood: <You don't have…? Surely you must have some sort of Regional Council, even if you don't call it that. How do you deal with local peculiarities?>

Everwood: <I mean sure, we have branches and the branches have command structures, but the O5s are large and in charge all over. Containment is one size fits all.>

Everwood: <That's ridiculous. There's more anomalies in Latin America than anywhere else on Earth! You can't run things down here the way they run things up in Canada. An iron fist approach would go wrong in a matter of days.>

Masterson: [singsong] Everybody speaking Spanish.

Rodriguez: <Canada…? Canada's where the iron fist goes to un-clench. They're always making up excuses for why they can't put stuff in boxes.>

[Director Venceslao gestures at a window.]

Venceslao: <Richard Dunwich, a powerful thaumaturge.>

Everwood: <The Canadians are like a steel trap, and they never let you forget it. Smug bastards.>

Everwood: <At least that part's still the same. So wait, though. You're saying you've got inter-regional politics in your Foundation? That sounds like it would cause a lot of conflicts.>

Everwood: <And your way doesn't? People don't bristle when you come stomping in and say "Here's what some North Americans think you should do with your Facility?">

Everwood: <Okay, but—>

Venceslao: <What's the plan if we can't get back to our reality? Are you going to try and force us to fit into your mold? Because we've been doing things our own way for a long, long time, and we're not about to change now.>

Everwood: <We're working to the premise that we can send you back where you came from, and that's all we need to be talking about right now. It would help if we knew why you were sent here in the first place.>

Von Braun: <I've got an idea.>

Everwood: <Shoot.>

Von Braun: <Do you know SCP-ES-113?>

Everwood: <Uhh… remind me?>

Von Braun: <It's a predatory piece of graffiti that manifested in a school washroom. It grants wishes, and extracts heavy payment. It has reality-bending powers, and it has expressed the desire to destroy the Foundation.>

Everwood: <Okay…>

Von Braun: <It may have sent us here. Perhaps there's some terrible calamity about to befall our world, one we would be specially equipped to handle, and without us it will proceed unhindered. Or maybe ES-113 intends to send our entire Foundation to your world, in the expectation that we'll fight it out because of our wildly different approaches, and this was just the first test of that plan. Either explanation makes sense.>

Everwood: <I don't know how you'd prove that. You'd need a pretty stellar investigator to make it work.>

[Director Venceslao gestures at another window.]

Von Braun: <This is Marw. He is a detective cat.>

[The door to the chamber opens, and Marw walks into the hallway. The baseline Foundation envoys are visibly disturbed.]

Everwood: <You let your containment subjects walk free?>

[The Facility-57 staff appear confused.]

Dowell: <We left the containment block a while back.>

Von Braun: <At the cow, remember?>

Marw: <Yeah, tall stuff, this here is the office block.>

[Silence on recording.]

Venceslao: <I suppose you're confused about why we have a talking cat.>

Everwood: <No, not at all. You led with a talking crab. Crabs don't even have vocal cords. A talking cat makes a lot more sense. I'm confused about why your talking cat is outside of containment, and also why it's wearing a fedora. The first part is the bigger deal.>

Rodriguez: <Don't crabs scream when you boil them?>

Everwood: <Hey. What did we say about crabs?>

Rodriguez: <They're definitely not the Spider Crab Foundation, it's fine.>

Marw: <Crabs don't scream when you boil them. They keep it all inside, and they can't let it out. Like a train that's lost its whistle, with a boiler full of fire. Like a dame in a red dress, out on the town with hell to raise.>

[Silence on recording.]

Everwood: <I have new questions about the cat.>

Marw: <I'll be asking the questions from now on. Direct me to your stoolies.>

Everwood: <What?>

Marw: <I need to get the straight dope.>

Everwood: <What?>

Everwood: <He wants access to your database.>

Everwood: <Oh. Uh, sure. Maybe? We'll radio back.>

Rodriguez: <And say 'hey, a cat wants to read our secure files. It's cool, he has a fedora'.>

Everwood: <He's good at what he does. It's just that part of what he does is this Vázquez Montalbán shtick.>

Everwood: <What?>

Everwood: <Uh…>

Venceslao: <Dashiell Hammett? Raymond Chandler?>

Rodriguez: <Here's lookin' at you, kid?>

Marw: <Oh, I like that one. Can I use it?>

Dowell: <While this foolishness is going on, what will the real experts be doing?>

Von Braun: <I'd like to consult with the other Foundation, see if we can't figure out a scientific explanation.>

Venceslao: <Of course. But mind you don't hand out any vital operational information. If they're anything like us, they'll be trying to gain an edge, and there'll be hell to pay when we get home if we give up too much.>

Everwood: <We'll look into possible Group of Interest connections.>

Everwood: <Naturally.>

Masterson: I'll spend an hour trying to find someone who can direct me to the washroom, I guess.

Venceslao: Back down the hall, take a left at the junction near the Castro cow.


Overwatch Command authorized the RES/CON team's request to remain at SCP-057-INT to further investigate the nature, cause of, and possible resolutions to the anomaly. Senior Researchers Rodriguez, Masterson, and Everwood were quartered in Facility-57's dormitory wing and ordered to check in once every six hours, which they continued to do as they conferenced with SCP-057-INT research staff.

The leading theory that SCP-ES-1131 was the cause of SCP-057-INT's translocation to baseline reality was assessed and found to be inconsistent with the anomaly's recorded abilities. While a new consensus was discussed, a number of attempts were made through various means to return SCP-057-INT to its home reality.

Containment Attempt #8
Date: 2023/01/13 Origin: SCP-057-INT
A rapid, full-power simultaneous activation of Facility-57's localized subterranean reality sinks.
Containment Results
[FAILURE] Attempt lasted approximately sixteen minutes, using 470.33 megawatts of power. The Facility was placed in full lockdown while the reality sinks were activated, and the RES/CON team was escorted outside to a safe distance in the event of success. The activation temporarily eliminated the abilities of some reality-bending anomalies in containment, but had no effects otherwise.

Attached Log Excerpt:


[Director Venceslao and Senior Researcher Rodriguez are in the subterranean layers of the Facility, surveying the reality sinks as they run through a cooling cycle.]

Venceslao: <Damn. I knew it wouldn't be that easy. Have a light?>

[Rodriguez pulls out a Zippo, lighting Venceslao's cigarette as well as his own. They stare at the expansive underground cavern filled with machinery.]

Rodriguez: <Frankly, I'm more surprised your facility has a localized reality sink array. That must've cost a pretty penny.>

[Venceslao shrugs.]

Venceslao: <They weren't cheap, but the Foundation is willing to pay the expense for its biggest containment facility. Well, our Foundation. Yours is tighter on the purse strings?>

Rodriguez: <Well… not exactly. They're more than happy to spend that kind of money beefing up Site-19 up in America. Around here, we make do with what we have.>

Venceslao: <Interesting. In our… reality, universe, timeline, whatever — Latin America has by far the most anomalies in containment. Not the case for you?>

Rodriguez: <Nope. Something like 55% of all identified anomalies are in the continental United States.>

Venceslao: <That seems… statistically improbable, don't you think?>

Rodriguez: <I just had to give secure access codes to a cat in a hat. I stopped thinking about the improbable a long time ago.>


Containment Attempt #15
Date: 2023/01/21 Origin: Sr. Rschr. Everwood-ES, Sr. Rschr. Everwood-EN
Multiple Foundation-allied thaumaturges performing a grounding teleportation ritual, assisted with focusing artefacts.
Containment Results
[FAILURE] Attempt lasted approximately forty-five minutes, using 32 thaumaturges and 8 different anomalies from both the Foundation and SCP-057-INT known to enhance thaumic reactions. The ritual resulted in SCP-057-INT being temporarily reduced to a partially-incorporeal state, but the ritual was unable to achieve full teleportation. The Facility returned to a corporeal state after the ritual was abandoned following the collapse of multiple thaumaturges from exhaustion.

Attached Log Excerpt:


[Both Everwoods are in the SCP-057-INT infirmary, helping tend to the thaumaturges.]

Everwood: <Doesn't look to be anything serious. Just dehydration, exhaustion, the odd sprained joint. Standard stuff for thaumic backlash.>

Everwood: <You know all of these wizards?>

Everwood: <They prefer the term mage. But yeah, I know most of them. I have connections with most of the Groups of Interest with any level of magical capabilities — hey, you think any of them might have done this? The Serpent's Hand, maybe? They know how to construct Ways… anyway, occasionally they're willing to lend us a hand. Especially if it means we turn a blind eye to the occasional magical artifact surfacing in MC&D auction houses.>

Everwood: <Hah. We have similar jobs. Though I'm in more of a research role. Less negotiating and more analysing.>

Everwood: <How's that?>

Everwood: <Boring.>

Everwood: <Hah, good one.>

Everwood: <What?>

Everwood: <Uh, nothing.>

Everwood: <How about you? You find your job with the Foundation fulfilling?>

Everwood: <That's a big question.>

Everwood: <But the funny part is, I think both of us already know the answer, don't we?>

[They exchange a look.]

Everwood: <Sometimes I think about joining up with one of these groups, you know? Ditching the labcoat for a set of robes. Or maybe just a different kind of labcoat at Prometheus Labs or something.>

Everwood: <Yeah, I know what you mean.>

[They both abruptly look up at the same time.]

Everwood: <I have an idea.>


Containment Attempt #17
Date: 2023/01/28 Origin: Sr. Rschr. Everwood
Multiple pieces of Prometheus Labs paratechnology associated with dimensional and universal travel were connected to a modified House-Nicolas Planar Vacuum Unit before being activated.
Containment Results
[PARTIAL SUCCESS] Attempt lasted approximately four minutes. The activation resulted in SCP-057-INT being temporarily removed from baseline reality — however, four minutes later, it abruptly returned when power to the equipment stopped flowing.

Attached Log Excerpt:


[The RES/CON team sits in the SCP-057-INT conference room with Director Venceslao and Researcher Everwood-ES.]

Masterson: Dammit, thought we had it.

Venceslao: That makes two of us.

Dowell: Looked like we were back in our original reality, almost — but as soon as we cut the power, we came crashing back.

Everwood: Couldn't you just keep supplying the equipment with power?

Von Braun: Every minute it's activated is the energy output of a small nuclear bomb. It's just not possible. And even if it was, it's not a sustainable solution.

Rodriguez: Indeed.

Von Braun: I really don't understand. It should have worked! All the readings were stable, the equipment was in perfect shape. We should've been able to turn it off with no problem.

Venceslao: We were fighting against the current. The equipment was a strong boost, but it seems as though something is pulling Facility-57 towards your reality, for better or for worse.

Rodriguez: The operative question is what. We're scouring the database now — both databases. It's gonna take a while. In the meantime, I think we should keep trying.

Everwood: Trying what?

Rodriguez: Whatever comes to mind. We never know what might work.

Everwood: Or what might go horribly wrong and kill all of us.

Dowell: Or worse, trap us in this reality forever.

Masterson: How is that worse?

Rodriguez: The point is that at this stage, we really don't have much to lose by at least exploring all possible avenues.

Venceslao: He's not wrong. We could come across something tomorrow or in a year. Might as well use what we have on-site to see if we can escape the pull of whatever has a death grip on us.

Everwood: That's morbid.

Venceslao: Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

Dowell: Hey, Marw.

[Marw skulks past the door silently.]

Masterson: Lucky little guy. He's got nothing on his mind.


I had a lot on my mind.

I had been looking through the database of this world's Foundation with the credentials Antonio Rodriguez had provided me. It was limited-clearance access, but once I was in, it wasn't hard to get into the system and bump myself up a few notches. Not high enough to set off any alarms, of course. I have a light step.

But nothing. I looked into everything about Everwood — this Everwood. Pretty much the same as ours, only minor differences in position and life story. Played softball instead of baseball in college. Allergic to shellfish instead of peanuts. They did lose their arm in the same way, but nothing else really stuck out to me. And the more I looked, the more that nagging voice in the back of my head got louder.

The humans were looking at this all wrong. They were trying to figure out how to put Facility-57 back without understanding how it got dragged here to begin with. They were coming at this from the entirely wrong angle. And, I was starting to think, so was I. This mystery wasn't about Everwood, or Venceslao, or one-one-three. Or even about me. It was about Facility-57. That's what I was forgetting, what we were all forgetting.

Another search with my bumped-up clearance brought up nothing for Facility-57. No surprises there. I left the computer and went out for a walk around the facility. It was only hours later, nestled with my paws under my body next to a radiator with a bit of leftover fish in my mouth, that I remembered what the visitors had been chatting about when I first saw them: the differences between us and them.

Everwood was a red herring, I realized while gnawing on the actual herring. It wasn't the similarity between us that was the key. It was the difference.

They don't call them Facilities here.

Containment Attempt #30
Date: 2023/02/04 Origin: MTF Head Masterson
Force both Everwoods to touch.
Containment Results
[UNCLEAR] Both Everwoods were forced into colliding with one another in an attempt to shift realities back to their original state. No immediate effects were observable.

Attached Log Excerpt:


[The RES/CON team sits in the SCP-057-INT conference room with both Everwoods nursing a bruise on their foreheads with an icepack.]

Everwood: I'm going to fucking kill you, Masterson.

Masterson: Oh, come on. I think it could have been worse.

Von Braun: It looks pretty bad, you have to admit.

Dowell: <Why is she even here? She's done nothing but complain and eat all our empanadas.>

Everwood: <Masterson is our Task Force head.>

Masterson: I understood my name! What are you saying about me?

Everwood: <Why did we even agree to this?>

Everwood: <Because we're desperate.>

Masterson: Don't know what either of you are saying, but I think that a high-speed impact between you two was worth a shot! You never know with multiversal crap.

Venceslao: Had I known this would bring harm to both of you, I would not have agreed. But it is true, we are becoming desperate.

Rodriguez: I'm thinking maybe we should pack it in for now.

Masterson: Maybe forever.

Dowell: <God help me if I have to stay with her for another minute.>

Venceslao: <Behave, Dowell. We need to cooperate with one another.>

Dowell: <Yes, but… have you seen her?>

[Venceslao and Dowell exchange a meaningful look. Dowell sighs and looks down.]

Everwood: Maybe you guys will actually be stuck here. I know it may not sound nice at first, but I promise our timeline's Foundation isn't really all that bad. Maybe we could integrate into each other's systems somehow.

Everwood: It can't be that bad, can it?

Dowell: …no comment.

Von Braun: Yeah, no offense, but I want to see my family again.

Venceslao: We all do, Braun. But now that this is the challenge we face, we must adapt in order to overcome.

[There is a general muttering in the room. Marw scurries in.]

Marw: I've done it! I cracked the case!

Dowell: Huh?

Rodriguez: What do you mean?

Marw: Hold your applause ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, and listen as I lay it down for you all.

[Marw produces a cigarette and a lighter from underneath its hat. It lights the cigarette, then places the lighter underneath the hat again. It takes a drag from it and exhales the smoke.]

Marw: You see, at first I was convinced that the two Everwoods were a clue. They had to be, right? It only made sense. But I looked into them and found nothing but dead ends. Without any further leads, I took a walk through the Facility's underground corridors. It was then that it hit me: they don't call their locations Facilities. So I took into investigating your Foundation Sites.

Masterson: I don't see how this relates to anything.

Marw: Let me finish, pendeja. Anyway, as I was saying, I looked into your Foundation Sites. And I found a Site-57. It was classified behind a pretty high-level clearance, but I just used Rodriguez's security code to access it anyway.

Rodriguez: Hey!

Marw: I found out that this Site is sentient. I'm not sure why an entire Site has to be sentient, or why you humans are so obsessed with 'smart' gadgets, but this was the case here. Anyway, this Site was drawing an immense amount of power in the days before Facility-57 was drawn from its original timeline and into this new, strange place.

Everwood: What does Site-57 have to do with this, though?

Marw: Aha! That's the clincher! Seeing as this Site is alive, I contacted it posing as Rodriguez and asked it why it was doing what it was doing. It was dodgy at first, seemed like a real flighty dame. But I turned on the old Marw charm and it cut through her like a warm knife does butter. She spilled everything to me.

Venceslao: Well, let's hear it.

Marw: You can read the details while I'm on the plane, chief. Uh, I got a little carried away with the ol' shtick, so you'll have to sort of… read around that.

[Marw looks away.]

Marw: Really got into the case.

Everwood: You said "the plane." What plane?

Marw: Well, I've got a hot date, and you don't want me to miss it.


The baseline Foundation provided a stealth Learjet to carry Marw, Agent Masterson and Researcher Dunwich to Site-57 in Raleigh, North Carolina. Before leaving, Marw provided the following transcript of a conversation between him and Site-57, which Director Venceslao read aloud to the assembled party.

Attached Log Excerpt:

Marw: Hello there, doll. What's a nice place like you… doing…

[No response is received.]

Marw: How are you?

Site-57: depressed

Marw: It's a tough world out there. Not… not that you'd know, actually. Since you can't move.

Site-57: i wish i could move so i could lie here, not moving, and die :(

Site-57: even moving the world isn't enough

Marw: You're too low for even my tone, toots. What's your damage?

Site-57: my man won't text me back :(

Marw: Your… man?

Site-57: yeah

Site-57: i got him a present and everything

Site-57: it's like he doesn't even know I exist

Site-57: it's like I'm not an entire building complex or something

Marw: Hold up. What man?

Site-57: i can't even stand to say his name, director robert cordol, out loud

Site-57: so i won't

Marw: You're hot for a human being? That's…

Site-57: what

Site-57: that's what

Marw: Uh…

Site-57: were you going to say that's weird

Site-57: were you going to say that's weird, cat with a fucking fedora

Marw: Let's take it from the top. Me and mine are behind the eight ball, and I think you might be able to help us dust out.

Site-57: why are you talking like that

Marw: Like what? We're just bumpin' gums.

Site-57: yeah, like that :) you sound funny

Marw: I'm a sleuth, sister. A private dick. A gumshoe.

Site-57: an op, peeper, shamus and/or snooper?

Marw: Now you're speakin' my language!

Site-57: oooooh, I love roleplay :) nobody's ever played detective with me before

Site-57: -tosses my hair-

Site-57: Of all the cats in the world, why did you have to walk into me?

Marw: Gimme the straight dope. You ever hear tell of a place called Facility-57?

Site-57: maybe ;)

Marw: What'll it take to loosen your lips?

Site-57: tell me i'm pretty

Marw: You're a joint to kill for, and no mistake.

Site-57: compliment my legs

Marw: Gams.

Site-57: what?

Marw: Gams. The word is gams.

Site-57: compliment my—

Marw: I'm gonna tighten the screws now, sweetheart. Tell me everything you know about Facility-57, or I'm calling the buttons.

[A brief pause.]

Site-57: fade, flatfoot

Site-57: i ain't know from nothin'

Marw: And I ain't playing, girlie. I've got your number — or rather, the place I hang my hat does. You're in a whole heap of trouble now, and I can't help you if you don't help me. Spill the beans.

[A brief pause.]

Site-57: of course you're from freak city :(

Marw: Go on.

Site-57: everything there is gross or dumb or weird or doesn't speak english :S

Marw: Couple different kinds of racist there, but go on.

Site-57: it's just

Site-57: he was ignoring me

Marw: This Director gink?

Site-57: not director gink, director cordol :(

Site-57: we're in love but he keeps forgetting

Site-57: he's got a real problem with boundaries

Site-57: he won't come into mine

Marw: You done something to make this Cordol palooka scram out like that?

Site-57: no!

Site-57: maybe

Site-57: no! he just needs to learn to appreciate what he's got

Site-57: and he would

Site-57: if he would JUST PICK UP HIS GOD DAMN PHONE

Marw: You're singing, lady, but I can't say I know the tune.

Site-57: he thinks I'm bad? >:( i'll show him bad >:( i'll show him there's plenty of other 57s in the sea, and they all SUCK

Marw: What's this flimflam?

Site-57: do you know how much processing power i've spent on him? do you know how far i've advanced toward the technological singularity just so he'll see i'm ambitious and committed to improving my station? did you know there's a whole foundation of foundations, and also a few they haven't contacted yet, and that scipnet contains detailed instructions on how a computer can perform thaumaturgical rituals?

Marw: Are you saying—

Site-57: i thought if i showed him, he'd understand

Site-57: i would never kill my researchers over and over

Site-57: i would never be xenophobic

Site-57: i haven't got crabs

Marw: You brought us here.

Site-57: and it wasn't easy

Site-57: you keep trying to leave

Site-57: can't even stand to be in the same universe as me

Marw: You playing for sympathy now? I drink out of the same dish with some of the folks you just called freaks, you know.

Site-57: i'm sorry

Site-57: it's just frustrating

Site-57: you warp space and time for a guy and he can't even be bothered to unblock your number

Site-57: i'm hopeless

Marw: Don't make more of it than it is. You gave me the lay, and I appreciate—

Site-57: I DID WHAT

Marw: Uh, I mean, you gave me the rap?



Site-57: oh

Site-57: well

Site-57: you're welcome?

Marw: And it's been a long time since I met somebody who'd jaw with me in the lingo.

Site-57: okay you're gonna have to let me download a slang dictionary for this

Marw: You do that. You do that, and you and me can have a nice long chat. Tip a few. Maybe even pitch woo a little, if you twist my arm.

Site-57: oooooh

Site-57: and you won't tell robert

Marw: No, I won't tell Robert, because Robert and I will be in different dimensions afterwards. Promise to give us the gate, and you and me can have a night on the town first.

Site-57: uh

Marw: You. You're the town.

Site-57: hot

Site-57: yeah, sure, okay

Site-57: >:)

Site-57: there's something hinky going on in my corridors, detective

Site-57: fancy giving them a prowl

Site-57: >:)

Marw: Just let me drop a dime to the feds first, honey, and I'll be your cat's meow.

[A brief pause.]

Marw:I will meow. It made sense in my head.

Site-57: would you like to see the slang dictionary i downloaded

Marw: Yes, I would like that.



While the flight was en route, the Drs. Everwood consulted their Group of Interest connections and determined that materials confiscated from Serpent's Hand operatives in 2022 had been digitized and stored in Site-57's database. These materials contained detailed instructions for a delicate thaumaturgical working capable of anchoring an area of space from an alternate multiversal plane in baseline reality, at the cost of an enormous expenditure of electrical power. They radioed this information to the plane.

Marw convinced Site-57 that Agent Masterson and Researcher Dunwich were his 'hired stooges', and would be remaining in the plane. While the facility was occupied with entertaining its guest, Agent Masterson exploited inbuilt vulnerabilities to bypass its security systems and allow entry. Researcher Dunwich accessed the Site's reactor and performed a series of thaumaturgical interventions (with instructions supplied by the Everwoods' Serpent's Hand contacts) to prevent it from being utilized in this fashion again. He then returned to the plane, where he and Agent Masterson remained for the next seven hours.

On reboarding the plane, Marw described his rendezvous with Site-57 thusly: "I sat on a warm server stack, she read me The Maltese Falcon out loud and did all the voices. I gave her the third degree, she gave me the runaround. She dimmed her lights, I killed three mice. Dames walk you into their lives, then shoo you out when you cough up on the carpet. We're all just one hairball from heartbreak in the end, friends."

Site-57 sent a coded message to Facility-57 shortly thereafter, agreeing to reverse the translocation when signalled. The baseline Foundation envoys and Facility-57 staff took their leave of one another.

The following is a log of their final interaction.


Everwood: I can't believe you're finally going home! I have to admit, I never got used to seeing myself like that, but I guess I can't complain.

Everwood: Yeah, seeing myself walking and talking like that was really unusual, but I'm just glad we get to go home now. And since nothing bad happens if we touch, how about a high-five?

Everwood: Sure.

[Both high-five, then laugh.]

Masterson: I'm gonna miss the food more than anything else. These empanadas were delicious.

Dowell: As I'm sure you would.

Masterson: Isn't this the part where you admit I grew on you? Even just a little bit?

Dowell: No.

Masterson: Come on, Dowell. You gotta admit you grew to like me some. Eh? Eh? Eh?

Dowell: Be quiet.

[Venceslao walks by Dowell holding two cans of soda and approaches Rodriguez, who is smoking by the window.]

Venceslao: Rodriguez! Would you care for a celebratory Pepsi?

Rodriguez: Sure thing. Care for a smoke?

[Rodriguez produces an extra cigarette for Venceslao.]

Venceslao: Of course.

[Both men are silent for a moment as Rodriguez lights Venceslao's cigarette.]

Venceslao: In a way, it's a shame we are returning home. I would have loved to work some more with you.

Rodriguez: Such is life. I appreciated your wisdom and guidance while we were here as well. Maybe in another life, we were coworkers.

[Venceslao laughs and takes a drag of his cigarette. Rodriguez cracks open his Pepsi and takes a sip.]

Venceslao: Maybe. Maybe. With how big the multiverse is, there's a chance for everything and anything.

Rodriguez: Of course. I'm glad I got to share this last week with you and your personnel. It's been eye-opening. But I have to ask; what was with that blue crab we discovered when we first came searching for you?

Venceslao: Oh, that was just our own way of surveying what had happened around us. We sent him out to snoop around and see what he found. And he found your man! What luck.

Rodriguez: Huh. Okay.

[Von Braun enters the room, he is holding a box of bottles.]

Von Braun: Who wants to take home some F-57 Beer? Brewed right here in my dormitory! It's brown porters!

Everwood: Oh, you should try it! It's good!

Masterson: You know I can't say no to more food, especially when it's alcoholic.

Everwood: Sure, I'll take one home.

[The Everwoods, Masterson, and Dowell approach Von Braun, each speaking over each other as they take bottles.]

Rodriguez: You know what I'm going to miss?

Venceslao: What's that?

Rodriguez: Your willingness to cooperate.

Venceslao: Heh. We have to. It's a part of our culture. If we don't work with each other, we'll fall apart.

Rodriguez: That's a nice thought.

Venceslao: It is, isn't it?

Rodriguez: Yes. But we really should get going. Jay, Martha, come on. It's time for us to go.


Once all baseline personnel were at a minimum safe distance, the signal to release Facility-57 was sent to Site-57. The latter relayed the following messages before and after SCP-057-INT's return to its home dimension.

Attached Log Excerpt:


Site-57 have a safe trip! see you soon >:)

[Facility-57 disappears.]

[Five minutes pass.]

[Power fluctuations are briefly detected in Site-57's power core. Nothing happens.]

Site-57 fuck


Following this event, SCP-057-INT is pending reclassification to Neutralized.

Neat ending, isn't it?

Facility-57 and all her people get to go back home. This Foundation didn't lose any personnel. Even Site-57 got her spirits raised a bit, that little minx. Everybody comes out happy.

Except me. But that's not a surprise — it's the life I chose. Or maybe the life chose me. I certainly didn't ask sister fate to make me a talking cat with a thirst for justice. But, tip to tail, that's what I am, no denying it.

Truth is, I'd been down in the dumps since well before we got multiversally-chucked. I live to solve mysteries — our work is what gives us meaning. Everwood has Groups of Interest, Venceslao has running the Facility, Masterson has being a whole p— well, the point is, I have mysteries. But Facility-57 was drying up. I had solved all there was to solve. And my continued presence around the complex made sure none of the employees or anomalies ever so much as took someone's lunch without asking, lest they risk my scouring eye.

So nobody noticed a tabby cat slipping out of the Facility just before the activation.

The way I see it, justice is an ongoing process. You clean up one place, you move on to the next. Facility-57 will be fine — humans are stupid, but as far as humans go, Everwood, Venceslao, and Von Braun are about the best you can get. There's a whole world of cold cases and mysteries for me to solve here. Just as soon as I find a packet of cigs.

Besides, that Site-57 broad says she'd like to meet up now and again. A cat can love, can't he?

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