I'll look into whatever killed your colleagues, but if I smell a rat, I'm gonna exterminate it. Got it?
-
Info
"Murphy Law in…Skip 8643 - Sunset on Horizon Boulevard" by
Mister_Toasty
Suggested music to listen to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLD-WKMVYhE&t=5008s
Site-19
23/5/2025
08:22 am
(Researcher Leonard Heinz enters Research Station 44, immediately signing a form laid out on a table. He then goes over to a nearby bookshelf, removing C.S. Lewis's "Till We Have Faces". He sits down at the table and opens the book, skimming along as he makes notes. He comes to a stop, staring, his eyes slowly widening in astonishment. Heinz produces a cellular telephone and takes several pictures of a page, then contacts Director Mann. After a redacted conversation, Heinz texts the images to Mann.)
Site-278
23/5/2025
21:59 pm
(Security officers Guenon and Lezard patrol the hallways of floor 2. They raise their hand in greeting as they pass several members of staff)
Guenon: (into her comm) Clear on two. Moving to elevator.
Control: Copy.
(They head to an elevator and activate it. Lezard stretches as they wait)
Lezard: You hear about the new Director coming in?
Guenon: Yeah, word is that it's someone from ETTRA.
Lezard: The threat response place? Hmm. Should be interesting.
(The elevator opens and they enter.)
Guenon: I think she's American. Bilingual, at least.
Lezard: You get a name?
Guenon: No, I just picked up a few details from the higher-ups. We'll find out soon.
(The elevator opens. Lezard's comm blips)
Lezard: Lezard here.
Control: Current position, Lezard?
Lezard: Floor three, just started patrol.
Control: Copy, head to Lab 36 ASAP. Emergency request.
Lezard: Copy.
(They jog down the hallway to Lab 36, where several researchers and technicians are gathered. Senior Containment Specialist Levye gestures them over. Guenon and Lezard recoil as they see two partial bodies on the floor. Their midsections are completely blotted out.)
Guenon: Whoa, what in the name of…
Levye: (to the crowd) All right, could everyone disperse, please? Let's get back to work, all right? You'll all get a report about this from Director Offet when the time comes.
(The crowd gradually thins out, leaving only Levye and the security officers. Guenon tips her helmet and whistles.)
Guenon: You ever seen injuries like that, Doc?
Levye: No. I don't think anyone has.
Guenon: In the whole Site?
(hesitates)
Levye: In the whole Foundation. (he takes several pictures with a cell phone and begins texting someone) I'm sending this to a specialist. If he doesn't know anything, it's free boat rides up shit creek for everyone.
(The guards appear confused. Levye kneels down, indicating injuries on one of the bodies.)
Levye: I used to intern for a lady who worked in pataphysics. From what I remember, this has all the marks of— (his phone activates, and he answers) Hey. … I know. I just took a shot in the dark, and… … Really. That's upsetting. … Oh, really!? That's… … Yeah, sure. I'll keep everything the way I found it. … Levye, from 278. … Corsica. …We're a bit off the radar; I doubt you would've… … Sure, sure. … All right. Thanks.
(he hangs up)
Levye: Okay, good news: he says he knows a guy who might be able to help.
Lezard: And…is there bad news?
(Levye frowns, nodding uncomfortably)
Levye: Let's just say that…everything that could go wrong probably will.
FADE IN:
EXT. STREET IN AN UNKNOWN TOWN - AFTERNOON
The sky is dark, rumbling ominously as the hiss of a rainstorm envelops the world. Few people walk these streets; one in particular glances about sharply, his hands stuffed inside a large overcoat as he skulks down the sidewalk. Every step he makes carries with it the weight of one balancing on the razor's edge between life and death, without rest or relief, trying to stay one step ahead of those who would have him buried. He has the countenance of a cornered animal, a man who is clinging at the end of his rope by tooth and nail.
He is…MURPHY LAW: DETECTIVE AT LARGE!
Even now, he is ready to give anyone a bit of the business. He is hard and handsome — with the sort of face that's seen enough storms to last a lifetime, while still coming off as a safe harbor, though there's little supply of those. He's in a bad way, framed for a crime he didn't commit, on the run from the most powerful organization in the world, with nothing to count on but his wits and a fully-loaded magnum. He is also our NARRATOR. He walks on in the rain, casually rounding a corner, glancing around before slipping into a doorway.
MURPHY shuffles down a dingy hallway before ducking into a dark corner of the hovel. He glances around cautiously, slowly removing a key from his overcoat, droplets of water coagulating on the hard wooden floor. He unlocks a door, heads inside, and barricades the door before finally breathing a sigh of relief.
He is safe: for now.
MURPHY silently removes his trilby and overcoat, hanging them on a rusty rack, and puts his gun and shoulder-strap holster on a table. He roughly drags a tattered cloth over his face. Once he's dried off, he looks into a mirror, scowling at the man glaring back at him. There's four days of stubble on his chin, and his eyes are bloodshot and saggy. He's in need of a shower, and sleep, and a hot meal, and…
NARRATOR
What's the old saying? "Only the bad sleep well"? Hmm. Whoever said that can go swimming with a cement snorkel. I haven't slept well in a dog's age, good or bad. I can't afford to sleep. Always got to stay on edge, stay alert. Can't take a breather anymore. Not when the Foundation's nipping at my heels like a hound from hell. Not when my back's to the wall and the odds are against me.
His voice is a harsh growl, as if he had been a broken-down junkyard dog in some previous life. It carries with it immense weariness, like a millstone, with only a man's indomitable will to counter it. MURPHY turns away from the mirror and finds a chair to collapse into. He affords himself a single cigarette and holds the lighter before him, pondering the fire.
NARRATOR
It's no way for any man to live — always on the move, always looking over my shoulder, never able to catch more than a few winks of sleep — but it's the only choice I've got left. I've been trying to clear my name, get out of this pit, put my life together, for years now, but it's Sisyphean work, and if I stop, I know I'll only be crushed.
Smoke issues from his nose as MURPHY exhales. He flicks his lighter off, discarding it, staring out the only window his ramshackle abode has to offer.
NARRATOR
Normally I'm the guy you call when everything that can go wrong, has, but what happens when all the wrong stuff happens to me? When every move you make is a game of chance, where you're betting your life and the dealer's got every card in the deck. I guess…
Close-up on MURPHY'S face. His eyes glimmer as he issues a weary, smoky sigh. He puts the cigarette out and slowly closes them.
NARRATOR
I'll just have to keep pushing my luck. They say an animal's most dangerous when he's cornered. We'll see.
FADE OUT.
SNAP CUT:
INT. MURPHY LAW'S SAFE HOUSE - EVENING
A knock is heard at the door. MURPHY, formerly asleep in his chair, is startled by the noise. The knocking continues, softly but persistently, as he regains his bearings, stretches, and takes a deep breath.
NARRATOR
There's only one guy who knows where I am, and he wouldn't betray my position for anything. This piece of work hammering on my door is probably just another drifter who's lost and confused. Thinks this is their hovel. It's happened before. Usually I just keep quiet until they go away.
The knocking continues. A voice calls out from the other side of the door.
VOICE
Mr. Lawden? Are you in there, Mr. Lawden?
Focus in on MURPHY'S eyes, squinting and burning in anger.
NARRATOR
Damn. They found me. I don't know how, but those rat Foundation bastards found me. Only they call me by that name.
The knocking resumes.
NARRATOR
No way in hell am I gonna give my position away. Whoever this fink is, they'll give up sooner or later if they think I'm not actually here. There are a few other places I could be holed up in, safe havens for me to slip into and out of, to throw people off my track. I'll keep my mouth shut and let this screwhead think I'm at one of them.
The knocking becomes silent. A voice calls out again.
VOICE
Mr. Lawde — pardon me: Mr. Law. Are you in there? I have urgent business I need to discuss with you. I'm authorized to pay you any form of compensation you wish.
Pan back from MURPHY, showing his teeth bared as he gnashes them.
NARRATOR
They're trying to bait me by playing nice, offering me promises they'll never keep. Thing is, though, they know I'm not so stupid as to fall for something like that. I kept my mouth shut, but I couldn't help but wonder what their angle was.
A silence hangs for a brief moment.
VOICE
I'm also authorized to offer you complete amnesty for past…activities. The Foundation is willing to overlook your shared sordid history in exchange for your cooperation. I'll even say "please" if you like.
NARRATOR
Damn. It's one thing for the Foundation to ask outside sources for help, but to wipe my slate clean, after they think I killed two of their Overseers… What in the hell would make them desperate or frightened enough to do that?
(growls)
I still can't trust them. The Foundation's the sort that wouldn't spit on you to put out a fire. Gotta play this safe. Gotta fall back on the one thing I know I can count on.
MURPHY slowly reaches for his magnum. After checking to make sure it's loaded, he points it at the door and waits. Silence clings.
VOICE
(sighs)
All right. Either you're not there or you're not talking. That's fair. But maybe this will convince you to hear me out.
An envelope slides through the crack in the doorway, coming to a stop at MURPHY'S feet. Slowly, he leans over and picks it up, keeping his gun trained on the door. MURPHY carefully opens the envelope, finding three photographs inside. Two feature images of Foundation-issue uniforms, along with dress pants, socks, and shoes. The other image is that of an ordinary-looking man laying in a hospital bed. The man is missing part of his right foot.
Zoom to MURPHY'S eyed widening.
NARRATOR
I had no idea what kind of games this button-down bean-counter was playing with the other two pictures, but I'd recognize the man in the other photo from anywhere. He was the one guy I knew I could count on, the only man I trusted. If this lousy stinking no-good yellow-bellied errand boy did something to him just to get to me…
MURPHY
Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't perforate you right here and now!
VOICE
Ah, so you are in there. To answer your question, Mr. Lawde — erm, Mr. Law, we'd like to find out who did that to 423, and how, and why.
MURPHY eases up but keeps his gun steady.
MURPHY
All right: start talking.
VOICE
Researcher Heinz from Site-19 found 423 like this during a routine observation. It's a condition we've never seen before. That in itself is concerning.
(a pause)
You know, there are a great number of us who like four-twent — erm, who like Fred, and they'd take just as much offense to this as you do. Besides, he could only be the first. A test-run for some more undesirable…more destructive purpose.
A heavy silence falls. MURPHY stares hotly at the door, his finger gently caressing the trigger of his gun. He looks at the photographs again. FRED appears to be in great pain.
MURPHY
What about the other two?
VOICE
Site-278 personnel who suffered similar effects, on a much larger scale. Whatever happened to four-tw — to Fred's foot happened to their midsections. Their remains dissolved shortly after. On top of that, their records and identities were removed as well. We couldn't find anything on them, except that they had worked at the Foundation at some point. The discarded clothing gave that away. Oh: and Fred claims that his foot's always been…incomplete as well, though a bit of research and some mnestics on our part prove otherwise.
Now I don't know about you, Mr. Law, but having baseline humans and anomalies both suffer the same effects — physically and mnestically — compounds our issues tremendously. I was called in to offer some insight and… Well, to cut to the proverbial chase, all signs point to metafictional destabilization.
MURPHY
Metafictional what?
Pan back, showing MURPHY squinting and clenching his teeth.
VOICE
Fred was partially removed from all narrative cohesion, and it's my personal hypothesis that the two personnel were removed, completely removed, in a similar manner — hence why there's no trace of them, except for their clothes. Baseline humans being treated as narrative constructs isn't something we normally encounter, and since you seem to have a penchant for getting yourself entangled in these matters, I figured you might be able to give us a unique angle on—
The door opens slightly. MURPHY'S magnum protrudes from the opening, his eyes glinting from the shadows. He looks up and immediately recognizes the person on the other side as PLACEHOLDER MCDOCTORATE.
MURPHY
Oh. It's you.
PLACEHOLDER
Yes. We've not had the pleasure of meeting before, but our reputations preclude introductions.
MURPHY gestures with his gun.
MURPHY
Do me a favor, Doc, and drop whatever pataphysical mumbo-jumbo you're about to yodel. Speak to me plainly and I might, might, hear you out.
PLACEHOLDER
(shrugs)
Very well. The gun's not necessary, Mr. Law: I'm unarmed.
MURPHY
And I don't trust you.
PLACEHOLDER sighs.
PLACEHOLDER
May I come in? I'd like to sit down.
MURPHY
I only have one chair. Sorry this ain't the Ritz.
PLACEHOLDER stares blankly at MURPHY.
PLACEHOLDER
Then I suppose I should be succinct. As I stated, we're willing to offer you compensation, amnesty, and resources in exchange for your cooperation. Find out who attacked our personnel and 423 — Fred — and deliver them, or their methods, to us.
MURPHY
And you can't do all that on your own?
PLACEHOLDER
Like I said, you have a penchant, a modus operandi, that many at the Foundation lack. Besides, at the risk of stoking your ire, this is exactly the sort of redemption arc you've been craving.
MURPHY growls.
PLACEHOLDER
Am I wrong?
NARRATOR
This louse really knew how to set me off. I'd sooner buy a bridge off a man dressed up as Napoleon than whatever story this overpaid librarian was touting. Whatever the Foundation was really after, I knew they had no intention of playing clean, and I wasn't gonna be their patsy. On the other hand, sometimes the only way to get to the truth is to dig through the dirt, and the only way I could do that was to play along.
MURPHY
Right about now, I couldn't give a damn about redemption, or whatever snake oil you're trying to peddle. I'm only doing this because I owe it to a good man to set things straight. I'll look into whatever killed your colleagues, but if I smell a rat, I'm gonna exterminate it. Got it?
MURPHY glares one more time before withdrawing his gun.
PLACEHOLDER
Perfectly, Mr. Law. I'll have our accountants forward you something up front, as a gesture of good faith. Feel free to call on us if you need assistance. The number's changed since the last time you used it, but the passcode is the same.
PLACEHOLDER shows Murphy a business card. He reads the number and nods.
MURPHY
Just so long as they're not looking over my shoulder. I'm also gonna need clearance for Site-19 and 278.
PLACEHOLDER
I've already arranged it.
MURPHY stares distrustfully at PLACEHOLDER.
NARRATOR
Damn. What the hell happened to give them this change of heart? There was no doubt that I was walking head-first into a field full of red flags. I just had to pray that they didn't turn to blood.
MURPHY
This has really got you spooked, eh Doc?
PLACEHOLDER
We deal with the frightening and the unknown every day, Mr. Law, though I will confess that this is a…unique situation. Whether you trust us or not, we still need to know the truth, and how best to prepare ourselves for what may come of it. We're just going about it in the most expedient way we know.
MURPHY hesitates. He finally takes a deep breath.
MURPHY
Ah, to hell with it. It'll be nice to get outta this gutter and walk around without having to constantly look over my shoulder. But I ain't shakin' your hand or nothin'. This is armistice, Doc: nothing more.
PLACEHOLDER
That suits me. If you'll excuse me, I'll be burning the proverbial oil on my end, but do keep us in the loop. Oh, and one more thing: take another look in that envelope when you have the chance. Until then, Murphy Law.
PLACEHOLDER smiles thinly and walks back down the hallway, exiting. MURPHY shuts his door, lets out a ragged breath, and heads over to the table, where he placed the envelope. He fumbles around and finds a familiar key inside, finally cracking a smile as he studies it.
TITLE SPLASH
Murphy Law in… Skip 8643 - SUNSET ON HORIZON BOULEVARD!
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
INT. SITE-278, FORENSICS DEPT. - MORNING
Two sets of clothing are positioned on a large table. MURPHY LAW is carefully examining them. Senior Containment Specialist LEVYE is standing off to the side with his arms crossed.
NARRATOR
It felt good to get outta that rat hole, shrug that weight off my shoulders, see the sun again. It was almost enough to make me feel human. The stiffs here gave me a bit of guff when I showed up, but it wasn't anything I wasn't expecting. "Long is the road and hard, that out of hell leads to light." Word here is that a man named Levye was the first to come across the bodies. He's the one who called the Doc, so in a kind of funny sense, I've got him to blame for my unexpected visitor. I'll try not to go too hard on em'.
MURPHY
And that's all you know?
LEVYE nods his head, still keeping his arms crossed.
LEVYE
Yeah. I found them in Lab 36, bisected at the midsection. There was no blood or entrails or anything — just two dead bodies I couldn't recognize or recall.
MURPHY nods.
MURPHY
Did the security cameras pick up anything?
LEVYE
No. There was a malfunction. Visuals cut out for two minutes.
MURPHY
Hmph. Convenient.
LEVYE
We have guards on all entrances and exits. Nothing unusual was reported the entire day, until…
MURPHY
Yeah, I get it. So it's possible this was an internal affair.
LEVYE
Possibly. We interrogated everyone who'd been on-site, including the Director. Even I got the treatment.
MURPHY grunts and carefully examines the clothes. One set contains a discarded lab coat, while the other has a maintenance jumpsuit.
MURPHY
McDoctorate claims nobody here remembered who these people were. Could one of them be the suspect?
LEVYE appears confused.
LEVYE
You're suggesting one of our staff did…whatever this was to the other person, then turned this…weapon, I suppose, on themselves?
MURPHY
(shrugs)
It'd be a good way to cover their tracks.
LEVYE
It's certainly a possibility. But that's worse than suicide…
NARRATOR
Yeah, it sounded like a horrible way to go, but maybe this was something so big that it was worth that kind of sacrifice. I couldn't even start imagining what kind of messed-up weapon this could be, but it was enough for the Overseers to sweep all their umbrage with me under the rug. I hate to admit it, but maybe that book-club wiseguy had a good reason for being nervous.
LEVYE
And it still doesn't get us any closer to solving this.
NARRATOR
He was right. I had gone over every fiber of these clothes with a fine-tooth comb, and the only thing I could pull out was lint and dead ends. I asked them to take me to Lab 36, which they had prudently left untouched, and went over to where they had first uncovered the bodies.
MURPHY
Did you take any mnestics?
LEVYE
Yes, but they didn't help. I'm sorry, we're as much in the dark as you are.
MURPHY frowns. He gets down on his hands and knees, carefully crawling along the floor, holding a magnifying lens in front of him. He pauses as he spots something, and moves in for a closer look. Three minuscule flakes lie nearly undetected.
MURPHY
Hmm. Maybe not.
MURPHY gently brushes the flakes into a small plastic bag, then stands up.
MURPHY
Think I could borrow one of those microscopes?
SNAP CUT.
FADE IN:
INT. SITE-19 CLINIC - AFTERNOON
MURPHY quietly steps into the Site clinic, removing his trilby. An ordinary-looking man is laying in a bed, his right foot bandaged. He is muttering incoherently.
FRED
Two sisters. Seven nameless gods. Four soldiers. Seven barbs catching ram's fleece.
MURPHY stands at the foot of the bed. He puts a toothpick in his mouth and prepares a notepad.
MURPHY
Hi, Fred, how ya doin'?
FRED
Twenty-seven lights. Seventy-four eunuchs. Forty-seven veils.
FRED snaps out of his daze, finally noticing MURPHY. He grins.
FRED
Murphy Law! I haven't seen you since that crazy limo ride back in…what, 22'? I thought you were on the lam!
MURPHY cracks a smile.
MURPHY
Yeah…yeah, I was. But never mind that, Fred: I heard you got into some trouble lately.
FRED
Trouble? I don't know what you're talking about, Murph. I've just been passing from one gig to the next, like always. Nothing really out of the ordinary has happened.
MURPHY
What was your last job, Fred?
FRED
I was Frithu, royal guard for Queen Orual of Glome. Captain Bardia's right-hand man.1
MURPHY
Sounds like a real swell job, Fred. Is that where you picked up that injury?
FRED
What injury, Murph?
MURPHY
Part of your foot's missing. The heel, I think.
FRED
(laughs)
Oh, I've always had that. Just a funny little thing I've had since who knows when. I hardly even notice it anymore.
MURPHY
Zat' so?
MURPHY chews on his toothpick as he writes on the notepad.
FRED
Why do you ask?
MURPHY
Oh, no reason, Fred. Sorry if I embarrassed you. What was the last thing you remember about your job?
FRED
Hmm, nothing special. Captain Bardia took me with him on a campaign, and…
FRED appears to struggle with his thoughts.
FRED
Did that clock always have twenty-seven hours in it?
MURPHY
What clock?
MURPHY glances around. There are no clocks in the room.
FRED
(stammering)
It's the funniest thing. Forty-seven minutes past the twenty-seventh hour. Two eyes. Seven gunmen. Four limbs. Seven days.
MURPHY
Uh…you all right there, Fred?
FRED
Two, two, two. Weren't there more than two sisters? And…seven guards? Four foxes, seven chairs…
MURPHY stands closer to FRED.
MURPHY
Hey, Fred, what's gotten into you?
FRED regains his senses and slowly rubs his face.
FRED
I dunno, Murph. It feels like there's a part of me that's missing. But that's silly, isn't it? I'm all here, and I feel fine!
MURPHY
Are you sure about that, Fred? I mean, you are in a hospital.
FRED
Sure, I'm fine, I…
FRED stares lifelessly into the distance.
FRED
Murphy, why am I in a hospital bed? The last thing I remember was…Lenny Heinz f-finding me, but…
FRED trails off, muttering incoherently. MURPHY attempts to rouse him, but to no avail.
FRED
Was I in Site-274? A passenger aboard a 747. The forty-seventh man in a line. Seventy-fourth coal I swallowed. Second chance. Seventh night alone.
MURPHY shakes his head and sighs.
NARRATOR
Poor kid. He must've told the Foundation where I was after he got hurt. Figured I was his only chance at unraveling this Gordian knot. It was hard seeing him like that, and what's worse, I barely got anything for my troubles, except some inane babbling. Well, I wasn't gonna do him any good standing around here. Got to find a place to sit down, clear my head, think straight.
MURPHY solemnly puts his trilby on and nods at FRED.
MURPHY
Don't worry, Freddie: I'll find whoever did this to you, grab them by the neck, and wring it like a soggy rag. I promise.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
EXT. OUTSIDE MURPHY LAW'S DETECTIVE AGENCY - EVENING
MURPHY is hovering at the front door, hands in his pockets and a cigarette between his lips. He appears to be reminiscing and apprehensive.
NARRATOR
I haven't been back to the old joint since before I got sent up the river. If you were to ask me if I ever thought I would return, I'd just laugh in your face. But here I am, and I even got my old key back. I figure the Foundation must've turned everything I had upside-down in an attempt to find me, but now that they were playing nice, maybe they'd gone and tidied up. Well, here goes nothing.
MURPHY unlocks the door, opens it, and steps inside. He issues a short chuckle; the office is clean and organized, with all-new furniture, supplies, and a note on his desk. MURPHY picks up the note and reads it.
MURPHY
"Took the liberty of cleaning up the place and covering your bills. You'll have to supply your own refreshments." Signed, P.M.D. Thanks, Doc.
MURPHY throws the note into his wastebasket. He hangs his coat up, puts the bagged sample of debris on his desk, and sits in his chair, smiling as he steeples his fingers and relaxes. The smile fades as he produces his notebook.
NARRATOR
What a case to have for a homecoming. Two people dead and forgotten, another who'd nearly lost his mind, the Foundation bending over backwards, and all I had to show for it was debris. I left the eggheads at 278 a sample of what I'd found and kept the rest. Maybe I was wasting my time on it, but between Levye forgetting about dead personnel and Fred's mind shot to kingdom come, I didn't have anything else to…
MURPHY pauses, sits up, and examines his notepad more closely.
NARRATOR
Hang on a minute. Fred kept repeating the same three numbers: two, four, and seven. Did they have any kind of significance? An entire ocean full of red herrings came to mind, too much for one man to sort through. I hated to do it, but I called the Doc to see if he had any thoughts. He said he'd look into it and would get back to me. Back to square one.
MURPHY sighs and leans back. After a moment of silence, he reaches for the bagged debris sample, carefully emptying it. Slowly, he extends his finger and touches the sample. A sharp hiss emits, causing him to jerk back in shock. When he looks, there is a small scar on his finger.
MURPHY
What in the name of—
A knock is heard at his door. MURPHY quickly brushes the sample back into the bag and applies a bandage to his finger. He looks up, seeing a silhouette on the glass. The visitor knocks again.
MURPHY
Yeah? It's open.
A woman walks through the door. She has an olive complexion and stormy grey eyes. Her dark hair is tied up, and she is wearing a red dress.
WOMAN 1
Are you Mr. Murphy Law?
NARRATOR
I coulda been knocked over with a feather. I ain't seen a dame like that walk through my door since my mother was a baby. She moved like an animal that had been born wild and free, only to be weighed down by decades of imprisonment. She carried herself like she had seen lifetimes of misery and torment, and it took everything she had to keep her head held high. Her voice was subdued, but defiant, and I didn't know whether to take her into my arms or throw myself out the window and run for it. Dames like that only come around once in a fella's lifetime, and that's if he's real lucky.
MURPHY
Um, yeah. To whom do I owe the pleasure?
WOMAN 1
I'd rather not reveal who I am at the moment. Just call me Friday.
MURPHY pauses. He looks her over again, slowly relaxing.
MURPHY
All right, Miss Friday, take a seat. What can I do for you?
FRIDAY sits down opposite MURPHY. He offers her a cigarette, which she declines.
FRIDAY
It's my husband, Mr. Law: he's dead, and I'd like for you to find out who killed him, and why.
MURPHY
Huh, ain't that a coincidence. I'm working my way through a job just like that. What can you tell me about your husband?
FRIDAY
To be honest, Mr. Law, I don't know. I'm finding it very difficult to remember anything about him. Nobody else remembers him, either, not even his family.
MURPHY
Hmm, that is strange. So how come you haven't completely forgotten him, Miss Friday?
FRIDAY hangs her head, apprehensively taking something out of her purse.
FRIDAY
I think it's because of this wedding ring. I've held onto it ever since he…died…and I think it's the only thing keeping him in my thoughts.
MURPHY
Ya don't say. May I ask what condition your husband was in when he, uh…
FRIDAY
His head was gone, Mr. Law. And his right arm. And part of his torso. The rest of him…dissolved, I guess you could say, shortly after.
MURPHY stares in silence for a beat.
MURPHY
I'm sorry to bring it up, but I had to ask. The other deaths I mentioned followed the same pattern. I don't suppose you got a good look at whoever did it.
FRIDAY
No, Mr. Law, and I've no idea why anyone would want to kill my husband. He was…that is, I'd like to think that he was a good man, who wouldn't have hurt anyone. I…know that isn't really helpful.
NARRATOR
Poor kid. I wanted to tell her that I'd look into it, poke around, grill a few suspects, but a woman like that… You don't lie to her. She looked like she'd eaten misery for breakfast and heartache for lunch, and no amount of honey from me would wash that out.
MURPHY
It's all right, Lady. Something tells me that if I keep following this thread I'm on, I'll run into the truth, but right now, it's a hell of a labyrinth, and whatever killed your husband's a monster running loose.
FRIDAY chuckles softly, parting a stray lock of hair from her face.
FRIDAY
I appreciate the metaphor, Mr. Law, more than you'll ever—
MURPHY'S telephone rings. He answers it; LEVYE is on the other end.
MURPHY
Yeah?
LEVYE
Hello, Mr. Law, it's Levye. The analysis for that debris you sent us came back. It's composed of a common volatile organic compound called isoprene. In layman's terms, it's rubber.
(silence)
One more thing: I got a call from Dr. McDoctorate. He says that the numbers two, four, and seven don't hold any relevant significance as far as he knows.
MURPHY
Hmm. Well, so much for that.
LEVYE
Wait: he wanted me to ask you if that sequence was 2-7-4-7.
MURPHY double-checks his notes.
MURPHY
What difference does it make?
There is a silence between them.
LEVYE
Because it could be referring to SCP-2747. McDoctorate's given you clearance to examine that file. I hope this helps.
MURPHY
Yeah… I'll keep in touch.
MURPHY hangs up. He circles a sequence of numbers in his notepad, frowning in thought. FRIDAY leans in.
FRIDAY
Has something happened, Mr. Law?
MURPHY
Maybe. I'll have to look into it. You may as well go home, Miss Friday; I gotta head over to a special library for some, uh, light reading.
As MURPHY stands up, FRIDAY steps between him and the door.
FRIDAY
I'd like to come with you — if you don't mind.
MURPHY
No offense, but you'd just get in my way, lady. Now go on home and I'll call you once I get anything, all right?
FRIDAY hesitates. She eventually steps aside.
FRIDAY
All right. Just be careful, Mr. Law.
MURPHY approaches his door and opens it. FRIDAY exits. MURPHY reaches for his trilby and puts it on.
MURPHY
Will do, kid. I'll see ya 'round.
FADE OUT.
SNAP CUT:
INT. MURPHY LAW'S PACKARD 120 - NIGHT
NARRATOR
The nearest Foundation property to my joint was about ten miles away. The rain had come back while I was busy admiring my new digs, making an already dark night even darker. Seems like It Always Rains around here. I kept my speed low, my lights bright, and my focus sharp; I didn't want to take any chances now that I had found a lead to this case. I'd never heard of SCP-2747, but from the way Fred was behaving, I knew I'd be in for a rough ride.
MURPHY'S car is seen narrowly missing a red light as it swerves a corner.
NARRATOR
What part did those rubber shavings have to play in all this? Were they just leftovers from someone's spring cleaning? Rationale told me that it was nothing, just some dirt left on the floor, a bit of negligence anyone could be guilty of. But my instinct said otherwise, and a guy like me, in this line of work, always chooses instinct over rationale, even if he knows it'll bite him in the end.
MURPHY'S car threads between lanes, trying to stay ahead of traffic.
NARRATOR
And then there was Friday. I had only known the dame a few minutes, yet she kept burrowing into my mind, like a drug you can't stop yourself from taking. It didn't seem like a coincidence that her husband had suffered the same fate as those two Foundation stiffs. Not only their bodies, but their entire identities, were gone, vaporized. She claimed that her wedding ring had kept her husband's memory alive. Did that mean nobody at 278 had any sentimental connection with those two people? They didn't have any friends, any loved ones, nothing? Bah, but maybe that's what happens when you screw around with amnestics long enough. Frankly, it's a miracle—
The windshield to MURPHY'S car abruptly buckles, a web of cracks splashing across the passenger side. MURPHY swerves his car instinctively, gently impacting the car on the right. He frantically pumps the brakes as another glass crater forms, and another, and another. The chassis shudders and dents as it's peppered, and one of his rear ties blows out. MURPHY skids and careens on the wet road, desperately trying to slow down and find safe haven. His car sidelines a street lamp, finally coming to a halt.
Smoke billows from the car's hood as gunfire pelts the driver side. MURPHY ducks down, narrowly avoiding a blast that shatters his window. He thrusts his magnum out the jagged opening and returns fire. His door buckles as more shots impact it, one skidding off his shoulder. He winces and fires back.
NARRATOR
Just what I needed: an ambush. No time to waste wondering who was trying to kill me — that list was long enough. Just gotta fight back, give better than I get, and look for a way out of this mess. Crashing my Packard certainly did me no favors. I wasn't hurt too bad but the impact knocked the wind outta me. The rain kept getting in my eyes, blurring my aim, made my fingers slippery as I reloaded. Can't worry about that, though. Stay focused, stay sharp, try and take out as many of them as you can before…
MURPHY stops firing as he notices the gunfire suddenly ceasing. Cries of surprise and pain pierce the inky sky. More of his unknown assailants are systematically removed. He snaps out of it as one of them breaks cover and runs to his position. Murphy fires twice, missing once, hitting the attacker in the torso. They keep charging while he frantically reloads. Suddenly a figure approaches them from behind, lifts them off the ground, and slams them onto the pavement. The figure then approaches MURPHY. It is a young woman: slight, petite, with bright, innocent eyes and short disheveled golden hair.
WOMAN 2
Mr. Law, I presume?
MURPHY finishes reloading and immediately snaps his gun in the woman's direction.
MURPHY
You got five seconds to tell me who you are and what the hell's going on.
WOMAN 2
Oh! Sister Claire; I'm with Horizon. We're kind of in danger here, so if you c—
CLAIRE glances up at the rooftops.
CLAIRE
Wait: there's a sniper up there, and there's someone in that alley over there ready to ambush us.
Confused, MURPHY glares up, shielding his eyes against the rain. He sees vague movement and fires blindly, rewarded a moment later by a man's scream. He then whirls around and points his gun where CLAIRE indicated.
MURPHY
Drop it!
The other man fumbles, firing wildly. MURPHY returns fire, hearing a groan and a thud. He sighs and stares at CLAIRE.
MURPHY
How the hell did you know those two thugs were there?
CLAIRE
(chuckling)
It's just some minor intuition. We'd better get to safety before we're—
She is cut off as a large group of armed people encircle them.
CLAIRE
Surrounded.
THUG
Drop your weapon, Mr. Law! Hands on your head, knees on the ground. You too, Sister!
CLAIRE and MURPHY remain frozen, weighing their odds. Suddenly, one of the armed men lowers their weapon. Two more lower theirs as well, followed by four more. Eventually they all lower their weapons, becoming docile. An older woman approaches the group. She is tall, tranquil, and deliberate, with hair like the shroud of death and eyes perpetually locked in a serene haze.
WOMAN 3
It's all right. Just relax. That's it. Good. Here, let me have those.
The woman takes their firearms and places them in a large duffle bag. She manages to effortlessly disarm the entire group, finally approaching CLAIRE and MURPHY.
WOMAN 3
Are you two all right?
CLAIRE
Yes, thank you!
MURPHY
Hey, would you mind telling me how you did that, and what the hell is going on?
WOMAN 3
Certainly, Mr. Law, but we should find someplace more comfortable to talk. Claire, could you administer them?
CLAIRE nods and produces a small canister from her belt. She sprays one of the men, causing him to slowly collapse. She busies herself with the others.
WOMAN 3
Just a sedative so we're not followed. I'm Pacificator Biancospino; you've met my protege. We'll have to take my car.
MURPHY
Look, Lady, it's not that I'm ungrateful for the rescue, but what makes you think I'm going anywhere with you?
BIANCOSPINO looks at MURPHY innocently.
BIANCOSPINO
Oh, did you not want to know why the Chaos Insurgency was trying to kill you?
She approaches one of the unconscious men, removing his gloves. A red tattoo of the Chaos Insurgency's insignia is on his right hand. MURPHY scowls.
MURPHY
Fine. But I'm riding shotgun.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
EXT. HORIZON INITIATIVE MANOR - NIGHT
A car containing BIANCOSPINO, CLAIRE, and MURPHY drives up a gravel road leading to a three-story manor. A gate opens for them. Several gardens and a fountain are visible as the car approaches.
NARRATOR
This place could've been on the cover of any well to-do magazine on the shelf. The ladies told me this was the property of Grand Inquisitor Veridas, not that my skin hadn't been crawling enough already. I had never heard of the guy, but I made sure to keep my gun close and my eyes peeled.
Four security guards are at the front entrance, but they remain motionless as MURPHY and the women enter. The interior of the manor is resplendant with velvet carpets, crystal chandeliers, portraits on the wall, candelabras, a spiral staircase, and suits of armor decorating the hallway. MURPHY grunts in disapproval as he is led away from the stairs down a hallway, into VERIDAS'S office.
A fireplace is crackling in the corner, and various shelves are lined with books; MURPHY also notices a small wine rack. A sinewy elderly man with soft, sparse white hair sits behind a desk, writing. He stands as the group enters, offering a heartwarming smile.
VERIDAS
Ah, good evening. Thank you for bringing him here, ladies.
NARRATOR
I looked around, bemused, wondering when the trap would spring.
MURPHY
What gives, padre? Usually by this time, I'd be handing my sidepiece over to a gorilla in a zoot suit after being frisked halfway to Sunday.
VERIDAS
There's no need for that as long as Romia is here. She'll be waiting outside. Ah, but I must insist you remove your hat and coat. Manners. Romia will hold onto them for you. Sister Claire, you may return to your duties.
CLAIRE bows slightly and exits. MURPHY reluctantly removes his coat and trilby, handing them to BIANCOSPINO, who exits. VERIDAS gestures to a chair, which MURPHY sits in. VERIDAS looks directly at him.
VERIDAS
What would you like to drink, Mr. Law?
MURPHY
A Mint Julep.
MURPHY appears surprised.
NARRATOR
I didn't mean to say that. I wanted to tell him to cut to the chase, tell me what was going on. But there he is, making me a drink I haven't tasted since half a lifetime ago.
VERIDAS offers the drink, smiling softly. MURPHY glares at it suspiciously.
VERIDAS
Will you not drink it?
MURPHY
No. I think it's either laced with poison or Sodium Pentothal.
MURPHY appears more surprised.
NARRATOR
What the hell? Why did I say that out loud? It's not like me to spill the beans so carelessly like that.
VERIDAS laughs softly.
VERIDAS
Mr. Law, if I wanted you dead, my associates wouldn't have saved you; and if I wanted to interrogate you, I would. I'd much rather establish friendly relations with you, though. We'd both benefit if you'd just relax and listen.
MURPHY hesitates. He takes the glass, sniffs it, and sips carefully. The drink tastes perfect. He sips again. VERIDAS smiles.
VERIDAS
Normally I only drink wine, or a gin cocktail if I'm in a certain mood. But let's start with introductions: Maxim Veridas, Grand Inquisitor for the Horizon Initiative. I run a sort of hostel for those who, shall we say, have more to offer the world than most. You may have noticed my associates have some unique abilities. Sister Claire acts as a kind of "human radar", able to sense people around her. This makes it nearly impossible to hide or sneak up on her. Pacificator Biancospino — Romia — is one of our most powerful assets. When her mother was pregnant, she was fed a certain species of pigeon that casts an aggression nullification zone of influence, and that effect transferred to her daughter. I myself elicit truths from those whom I interrogate, hence my rather florid rank.
MURPHY sneers.
MURPHY
Sounds like something Herman Fuller would bark about.
VERIDAS
(laughs)
Yes, it is a bit melodramatic — but effective. Besides, if Horizon hadn't taken us in, then the Foundation would have, and one of those institutions offers considerably more freedom than the other.
MURPHY
Sure, padre, sure, just so long as you get down on your knees and pledge your immortal soul.
VERIDAS remains smiling.
VERIDAS
Your reputation for disdain and misanthropy is famous. But let us not dwell on that; you want to know why the Insurgency is trying to kill you.
MURPHY
Probably because it's a Wednesday and they were next in line.
VERIDAS
(laughs)
You nearly sound egotistical, Mr. Law! If I didn't know better, I'd say you enjoyed… But no: the Insurgency caught wind of your…shall we say, arrangement with the Foundation, and they will go to any lengths to see it terminated.
MURPHY leans forward, glaring suspiciously.
MURPHY
What do you know about that?
VERIDAS
I'm an Inquisitor, it's my job to know these things. Besides, this isn't the first time we've crossed swords with the Insurgency. They usually fail, but…they are persistent.
MURPHY
You don't say. Do you know anything about this…weapon, or whatever they're after?
VERIDAS
I know it is dangerous, Mr. Law, regardless of which hands hold it. I genuinely don't know what the Insurgency wants with it.
MURPHY scratches his head.
MURPHY
And here I thought you'd be giving me some answers, padre. All I've gotten so far are vague hints and halfhearted responses. I ain't gonna lie, I don't like taking one step forward only to jump back twice.
VERIDAS
You at least know your enemy, Mr. Law.
MURPHY stares coldly at VERIDAS.
MURPHY
I wonder.
MURPHY leans back. He tries going for his gun, but stops short, folding his hands together instead. He sits in awe for an instant before clearing his throat.
NARRATOR
So that's why he had that woman wait outside. If she spreads some peacemaking force field wherever she goes, that means I can't threaten this guy with anything. Damn.
MURPHY blinks, rubbing his mouth in contemplation. Veridas sighs and broadly gestures.
VERIDAS
It's all right if you still don't trust us. I can only say that we are not trying to harm anyone, Mr. Law. Whatever else you may think about Horizon, please believe that, at least.
MURPHY grumbles, eyeing VERIDAS as he takes another drink.
MURPHY
Fine. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, padre, but only if I got no reason to change my mind. There, uh, isn't anything else in particular you'd want to share with me, is there?
VERIDAS
No, Mr. Law; you're dismissed, and with my blessings. In the meantime, we will do what we can about the Insurgency. Ah, and I think you'll be needing new transportation.
MURPHY scoffs as he finishes his drink.
MURPHY
What, you're gonna give me another car?
VERIDAS
Temporarily. We'll have your Packard repaired in the meantime; think of it as an olive branch. Romia will escort you to your vehicle. We're only loaning it to you, Mr. Law, so do be careful.
MURPHY stands, giving VERIDAS a final stare.
MURPHY
No promises, padre, but I'll mind the paint job. Thanks for the drink.
MURPHY exits the room. BIANCOSPINO is waiting for him. She smiles faintly and returns his trilby and coat, then leads him outside, where three sedans are parked.
BIANCOSPINO
They're not exactly Bentleys or Rolls-Royces, but beggars can't be choosers.
MURPHY frowns, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
MURPHY
It's fine, just so long as they run.
MURPHY chooses one at random and BIANCOSPINO gives him the keys. He gets in, keeping the door ajar.
MURPHY
So that's it? We're done?
BIANCOSPINO
I'm not going to kiss you good-bye, Mr. Law.
MURPHY
That's not what I meant. We're all square?
BIANCOSPINO
Until you need saving again.
MURPHY
So I got myself a coupla guardian angels, huh? Swell.
MURPHY shuts the door, smiling flatly as he waves and backs out. He returns to the road, keeping watch on BIANCOSPINO in his rearview mirror.
NARRATOR
Now there's a dame that'll give a man the chills on a hot summer's day. All the more reason to give Horizon a wide berth. Now, back to finding out about SCP-2747. It had been a long day, and I was sore, tired, and in no mood for anything else to get in my way. Just find a research site, do a little digging, and go home and sleep.
I had been wondering how the Insurgency got wind of my activities, and something told me it was no coincidence that Horizon happened to stumble across our little fracas. The threads of this case kept getting longer and more tangled the more I tried unraveling them, and I had a feeling that…
MURPHY laughs as he slows down for a stop sign. A small crowd of people quickly cross the street.
NARRATOR
Well…maybe everything that could go wrong, would. But that's just what I'm here for, isn't it?
MURPHY continues to drive through the night.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
INT. FOUNDATION RESEARCH CENTER #43 - NIGHT
MURPHY LAW is standing in front of a computer, his face illuminated in a soft white glow. He is reading the file for SCP-2747. After a few minutes, he exhales deeply and shakes his head, then prints out a hard copy of the file. He logs out and closes the server, ironically tipping his hat as he heads to the exit.
NARRATOR
Behind all that gobbledygook was one of the worst horrorshows I've ever had the misfortune of knowing about. This anomaly snuffed out narratives, stories, fictional constructs — complete, permanent eradication. But it didn't have a physical form; it was an intangible act, a phenomenon, almost a force of nature. If this is what hurt Fred and killed those three people, then how was it weaponized, and by whom, and why? All of the signs pointed to the Chaos Insurgency, but easy answers never set well with me. There was still something missing, something I couldn't put my finger on yet.
As MURPHY leaves the facility, he pauses. Someone is waiting for him, vaguely profiled against the darkness.
NARRATOR
I was tired, frustrated, dead on my feet. All I wanted right then was a stiff one and some shuteye. What I got, though, was a familiar face, pointing a gun right at my chest.
MURPHY pauses, his overcoat billowing in the breeze. Black hair and red fabric whip in synch as the Lady silently stares at him.
MURPHY
Friday, why?
FRIDAY fires. The shot cracks the silent night sky. MURPHY winces in pain.
A body behind him collapses. FRIDAY breathes a sigh of relief and puts her gun away.
FRIDAY
Still think it's a good idea to leave me behind? You're welcome, by the way.
FRIDAY walks over to the dead body, pulling a balaclava off.
FRIDAY
Who knows you're here, Murphy?
MURPHY snaps his magnum out, pointing it at FRIDAY'S head.
MURPHY
I'm not in the mood for games, Friday. Tell me what's going on.
FRIDAY
Isn't that your job, "detective"?
She kneels down and examines the body.
FRIDAY
No insignia. Answer my question, Murphy.
MURPHY remains silent, glaring in the darkness as he holds his gun steady.
MURPHY
You wouldn't know em'.
FRIDAY
Try me.
MURPHY frowns.
MURPHY
The SCP Foundation, the Horizon Initiative, and possibly the Chaos Insurgency. Now it's your turn, lady.
FRIDAY sighs and stands up, straightening her hair.
FRIDAY
My real name is Barbara Dietrichson. I'm a thaumaturgist for the Serpent's Hand. Someone's found a way to kill narrative constructs, and I've been sent to uncover the details.
(smirks)
If you'll pardon the pun, we're on the same page here. The part about my husband was a lie; I'm sorry about that. I had to come up with a cover story to draw away suspicion.
MURPHY
Yeah, well, that suspicion you drew off fell on me. Where does the stiff come in?
MURPHY gestures to the dead body.
BARBARA
The Insurgency doesn't want you any closer to this anafabula, the anti-narrative. Since I assume that's counterintuitive to your plan, and we're both on the same side, I'd like to make a proposal.
The wind howls through two silent figures.
NARRATOR
Something had told me this dame would be no good when I first saw her, but at the same time, I couldn't help but be drawn in — the old moth to the flame. I knew I couldn't trust her, and I didn't even believe her story about being part of the Serpent's Hand, but there was something alluring and…familiar, I suppose, in that piercing stare of hers. I decided to leave it up to cold rationale, and give my instincts a break. They had gotten me into enough trouble already.
MURPHY reluctantly puts away his gun.
MURPHY
All right, let's get one thing straight, lady: my work is tough and dangerous, and I don't like looking out for other people when I got enough problems of my own. I'm still mighty tempted to leave you here and move on, but something tells me you'll just haunt my steps regardless, so I may as well let you tag along, if only so I'm not looking over my shoulder all the time. Besides, I'd rather deal with one guardian angel instead of two.
NARRATOR
She gave me the kind of smile that would warm the heart of any man alive, or else turn their insides to liquid.
BARBARA
I'm glad to hear it, Murphy. I can call you Murphy, can't I?
MURPHY
You don't strike me as the type who'd need permission for anything.
NARRATOR
She smiled again and followed me back to my car. I left that body behind for the Foundation to clean up; right now, I needed to rest and gather my thoughts. Something told me that this was only the beginning of…
BARBARA
Murphy?
NARRATOR
I looked over at her. At Friday, or Barbara, or whoever this really was.
MURPHY
Yeah?
BARBARA
I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
MURPHY smiles, somewhat grimly, as he drives into the darkness.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
INT. HORIZON INITIATIVE SEDAN - MORNING
MURPHY LAW is driving. BARBARA is sitting beside him. She is propping her elbow on the sill, resting her chin on her hand. She has her window down, and her hair is blowing freely. Her expression is one of ambivalent content.
NARRATOR
We found a decent hotel to spend the night in — separate rooms — and I ate the first respectable breakfast I've had in months. They had some damn good coffee, too. Our goal that day was to track down the nearest Chaos Insurgency hideout and invite their lackeys to an old-fashioned grilling. Certainly not an easy task, even with a professed witch sitting next to me. The Insurgency was the sort to never be found unless they wanted you to, and to never talk unless they had something to say. Still, it felt like I was finally on the right trail.
Friday said she knew where one of their bases were. I had no choice but to trust her on that one. When I had asked her about it earlier, she just blew me off with a vague response. Dames and their riddles, I swear. I looked over at her, just enjoying the day, without a care in the world. She made my heart feel ten times lighter, while twisting my stomach like Bavarian dough. Ambivalent, I guess you could say. I figured since we'd be partners in this gig, I may as well pull out a crowbar and pry a little.
MURPHY
So, what's your involvement with all this? Is it purely professional, or…
BARBARA
Let's just say that I have a strongly-vested interest in this.
BARBARA looks over, giving MURPHY an ominous stare.
BARBARA
I have…very close friends who are fictional constructs. Loved ones. And as a warden of the Serpent's Hand…
She blinks, biting her lip fretfully.
BARBARA
You said it killed two people? Normal, baseline humans? If something like that got out, well…I'd say that's a valid enough reason to get involved. You could say I'm looking out for my own interests.
MURPHY shrugs.
MURPHY
Nothing wrong with that.
BARBARA
What about you, Murphy? I've got a feeling that money and professional integrity aren't your only motives.
MURPHY
A friend of mine got hurt. That's all I needed.
BARBARA smiles softly. She resumes looking out the open window. The car turns a corner.
NARRATOR
We were almost there. Got stuck in a little traffic. Time enough for me to…
MURPHY keeps glancing over at BARBARA. She looks back, smirking as he focuses on the car in front of him. Suddenly, the car behind him lurches forward, ramming into the bumper and causing BARBARA and MURPHY to jerk.
MURPHY
Lousy creep! Wait your turn!
The rear car backs up and rams them again. Two armed figures in balaclavas emerge from the car in front, carrying assault rifles.
NARRATOR
Well wouldn't you know. We had wanted to find the Insurgency, and here they were. Real considerate of em'.
MURPHY pulls out his magnum. Cars pull up on both sides, boxing him in. More armed figures emerge.
BARBARA
Ram them!
MURPHY floors the accelerator, pushing into the forward car. He manages to wedge it out of the way and speeds down the highway.
MURPHY
So much for that paint job. Sorry, padre.
BARBARA looks behind them.
BARBARA
They're following us. Three, four…no, six cars!
NARRATOR
This was turning out to be some party. Luckily I knew how to dance to their tune.
MURPHY'S car swerves a corner, weaving through traffic rapidly. He runs a red light, narrowly avoiding oncoming cars. Two emerge and continue following him. MURPHY makes another turn. He hands his magnum to BARBARA.
MURPHY
It kicks like a mule, but it's fully loaded. There's more ammo in the glove compartment.
Shots fire as MURPHY speeds up. BARBARA leans out the window, seeing four cars pursuing them. She empties the magnum, shooting the window, hood, and tires of one car, which skids off the road. She quickly turns and opens the glove compartment, finding it empty.
BARBARA
Where's the ammo?
MURPHY
Damn it, I left it in my Packard!
NARRATOR
Stupid, stupid. Worry about that later. Gotta think of a way to thin these crumbums out. Hard to do with this sedan. May as well be steering a walrus.
BARBARA
Hold on: I've got an idea. Do you have any cigarettes?
MURPHY
In my coat pocket there. The lighter's next to em'.
BARBARA
I won't need the lighter.
BARBARA puts one of the cigarettes into the barrel of the magnum. MURPHY stares at her incredulously. BARBARA smirks as she leans out the window, whispers a few words, and fires. The projectile changes form and rapidly expands, becoming a mass of tar and impacting one of the windshields. The driver swerves out of control and crashes into a street light. MURPHY chuckles, impressed.
MURPHY
Not too bad. Got any more tricks?
BARBARA'S eyes glisten. She opens the door, her hair billowing furiously as she leans over, reaching her arm to the blurry asphalt. She whispers a few words and shouts; the asphalt tapers into points, puncturing the tires of the other cars. They careen and collide into each other.
MURPHY
Pretty slick, lady! Any others out there?
BARBARA closes the door and studies the road behind them.
BARBARA
None that I can—
The rear windshield shatters as a steel orb breaks through. Smoke emits from it, enveloping the sedan. BARBARA and MURPHY cough uncontrollably, crashing the car into a building. Another car pulls up next to them, issuing five figures. One of them, wearing a red sash over their right shoulder, directs the others.
COMMANDER
Secure them and search the vehicle. Rendezvous at 56-Yankee in twenty.
BARBARA and MURPHY are forcibly removed from the vehicle and pinned to the ground. The figure looks down at MURPHY, kicking his magnum away as he reaches for it. A cloth reeking of chloroform hovers before him.
SLOW FADE OUT.
SLOW FADE IN:
INT. CHAOS INSURGENCY BASE 56-YANKEE, MID-MORNING
Someone douses MURPHY with water, jolting him awake. His hands and legs are bound to a chair, and he is missing his trilby, overcoat, and shoulder strap. He sees two armed figures in balaclavas flanking a third, a pale woman with red hair and an eye patch. BARBARA is nowhere to be found. MURPHY struggles against his binds.
NARRATOR
Another fine mess a dame's gotten me into. At least they saved me the trouble of finding their joint. Hopefully all my charm wasn't spent on Friday and those two molls, cuz' I ain't seeing any other way out of this.
COMMANDER
So this is Murphy Law, the infamous detective. You managed to give us a bit of trouble, Murph. I'm impressed.
MURPHY
Stuff it, lady. Where's the woman who was with me?
COMMANDER
Safe and unharmed, and if you want to keep her that way, you'll cooperate. Savvy?
Close-up on MURPHY as he glares.
MURPHY
Yeah, sure. So whaddya want, an autograph?
COMMANDER
Hardly. There's a weapon Horizon's been developing for several years now. I think you know which one—
MURPHY
Wait a minute: you mean Horizon's the one who made that?
The COMMANDER raises an eyebrow, grinning and crossing her arms.
COMMANDER
I'm not surprised you weren't aware of that. It's one of their biggest secrets. We had to pester them for the better part of four years just to learn that much.
MURPHY stares in silent disbelief for a moment.
NARRATOR
Damn. No wonder Veridas was so tight-lipped. I guess I can't be too hard on myself for not seeing it if a clandestine group like Chaos had trouble digging that up.
MURPHY
Do you know how they did it?
COMMANDER
I don't answer questions, Murphy, I ask them. What's your relationship with them?
MURPHY
They have my car in their shop. I crashed the one they loaned me.
COMMANDER
(snorts)
Oops. Is that all?
MURPHY stares indignantly.
MURPHY
Do I look like a man of the cloth?
COMMANDER
Fair enough. So you're working for the Foundation.
MURPHY
In a roundabout way. I ain't their patsy, or their errand-boy, if that's what you mean.
The COMMANDER shrugs.
COMMANDER
So…what? You're trying to dig up proof of this weapon so the Foundation can grab it?
MURPHY
I couldn't care less what they do with it. I just wanna enact a little unfriendly diplomacy with the ones responsible.
COMMANDER
Oh yeah? Do you even know what it does?
MURPHY
Something about removing fictional constructs from narrative cohesion. Lotta big words from people with too much time on their hands.
The COMMANDER nods and gestures to one of the guards. They exit the room and return shortly carrying a plastic case. Contained inside is a wooden #2 pencil.
COMMANDER
I wish I could tell you how many of our people died so we could get our hands on this. We couldn't even hold a funeral for them. Nobody remembers who they were. It does that.
MURPHY stares at the pencil in disbelief.
NARRATOR
A pencil. All of this over a crummy pencil. Was this dizzy dame for real? If I ever make it out of this, I guess I can retire, because now I've seen everything.
MURPHY scoffs bitterly. The COMMANDER nods to the other guard. They leave and come back with a corpse on a gurney. A silver plate with an apple is also on the gurney. The COMMANDER gestures, and the guards carefully remove the pencil from the glass case using gloves and tongs. They position the eraser over the corpse and rub it against the body's head. All sections touched by the eraser instantly dissolve, until the entire head is removed. MURPHY watches coldly as the rest of the body erodes, until only its clothing and dog-tag remain.
COMMANDER
That was a normal, baseline human. Someone that didn't survive our little chase. In about an hour or so, nobody will remember who he was. Now for the apple.
The COMMANDER places the apple on the ground. She picks up a nearby cinderblock and smashes it on the apple. When she removes it, the smashed apple quickly re-forms.
COMMANDER
An anomaly. You could eat this thing all day, and it'll grow back like new. Now watch.
The guards position the eraser on the apple and begin rubbing. The apple soon dissolves completely, and does not reform. MURPHY is silent. His thumb slides over the scar on his finger. The eraser then touches the silver plate, with no reaction.
COMMANDER
It has trouble with inorganic material, but you can bet that little snag will get fixed if Horizon tinkers with it enough. Anything that was, is, or could ever be considered alive, and potentially anything and everything, obliterated and forgotten. So, that's what it does.
MURPHY nods his head.
MURPHY
Okay… I believe you, lady. Does the, um…whole pencil do that, or—
COMMANDER
No, only the eraser. You can touch any other part and be fine.
The room is silent for a moment.
MURPHY
And I take it that ain't the only one.
COMMANDER
That would be a fair assessment. All right, dispose of it.
The guards exit with the pencil. The COMMANDER crosses her arms.
COMMANDER
That's our goal, Murphy. We want to destroy these things.
MURPHY
So why not call on the GOC?
The COMMANDER rolls her eyes.
COMMANDER
Do you really think the Coalition would get rid of something that makes their operations easier? They'd hoard as many as they could find! No, our goal is full detente. Balance. Nobody gets them.
NARRATOR
Hmph. Gotta admit, I wasn't expecting that. Still.
MURPHY
And you thought I'd hand it over to the Foundation when I was finished. You don't know me very well, toots.
COMMANDER
We couldn't take the chance, no matter how small. Even telling them that Horizon was responsible would be too risky.
MURPHY considers everything in silence.
MURPHY
Hmm. Smart. I'd do the same in your shoes. So now that I know everything, I guess you got no choice but to make sure I don't leave this room.
The COMMANDER produces a knife, casually tracing the tip along MURPHY'S neck and chest.
COMMANDER
We could do that. What would you do if we didn't?
MURPHY smiles grimly.
MURPHY
I think I might like to cause a little chaos of my own.
The COMMANDER smiles wolfishly. She cuts the ropes tying MURPHY'S wrists to the chair, then frees his legs.
COMMANDER
I'll hold you to that. But don't think I'm letting you go for free. We'll have our eyes on you from now on. Make one wrong move and you'll be begging us to erase you, too.
MURPHY stands up, rubbing his wrists.
MURPHY
I wouldn't dream of it. Where's my stuff?
The COMMANDER nods to one of the guards. He goes over to a door and opens it. BARBARA emerges, carrying MURPHY'S trilby, holster, coat, and gun.
BARBARA
Ah, are you finished already? And I was just enjoying my tea.
MURPHY
Cute, Friday, real cute. You okay?
BARBARA
I've been treated worse by better people. Are you done with him, Liath?
The COMMANDER stammers, taken off-guard.
COMMANDER
How did you know my…
BARBARA
Never meddle in the affairs of witches, dear.
The COMMANDER shakes her head, bewildered.
COMMANDER
I…guess you can go, then. Just remember what we discussed, Murphy.
MURPHY puts the rest of his clothes on. He checks his magnum, noting that it's been reloaded.
MURPHY
You can count on it.
MURPHY exits with BARBARA. She nudges him gently as they head out.
BARBARA
So the commander's on a first-name basis with you already? You must've made quite an impression.
MURPHY
She's just got a screw loose.
(chuckles)
Kind of like you, kid.
BARBARA gives a good-natured laugh.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
INT. MURPHY LAW'S OFFICE - NOON
NARRATOR
We took a cab back to my place and had a little lunch while we figured out our next move. Obviously we had to do something about Horizon, but what really concerned me was the thought of more of those erasers floating around. There had to be some kind of factory or plant that made them, and since the Insurgency didn't seem like they had any leads, Friday and I were on our own.
Ah, Friday. She was a hell of a companion. She could get me to talk like no two-bit enforcer ever had, and the things she had to say! We'd be shooting the breeze about nothing in particular, then leap over to crazy stuff like the nature of heroes, or the masculine desire for adventure, or the theater, or whatever came to mind. She seemed to know every language in the world, and had apparently traveled everywhere. I asked her where she was from, and she said Georgia; I then told her I wished I had ran into her when I had swung around Macon a few years back, and she had a good laugh. I tell you, a dame like that…
But I digress. We got a call as we were planning our next move, from Sister Claire of all people. She told me that my car was ready, and that someone would deliver it wherever I wanted. I gave her the location of a warehouse not too far from my office and thanked her, then I stared at Friday sharply, not saying a word. She seemed to pick up on what I was thinking, and we left the office and headed out. Neither one of us trusted Horizon to just hand over a vehicle without adding in a little surprise, so once the delivery guy took off, we searched the old girl for an hour. Nothing but a fresh scent and a little note from Claire:
CLAIRE
"Good luck with the case! Don't worry about the other car. God be with you, Sister Claire."
NARRATOR
Sweet girl. And maybe my paranoia's a little overactive — but I'd rather have too much than not enough. The Packard started up fine, and after a little test-drive, I put her back on the road. Veridas lived a good half-hour or so away, plenty of time for me and Friday to plan, or have another friendly conversation, or…
MURPHY's entire body suddenly lurches, stiffening into rictus as a loud humming reverberates. His eyes dance wildly as he is forced to watch the car veering uncontrollably. It collides into a building, but suffers little damage. As he attempts to recover, MURPHY glances over at FRIDAY, who is passed out in the seat next to him. His head begins to throb as the humming pierces him; his ears start ringing; his stomach churns. He has to… He…tries to — to —
To…
But
He
Can't
Anymore
Because
He's
Not
here
NARRATOR: Everything stops. Goes quiet. The rain's started again. It Always Rains. This has happened before. He's felt…
MURPHY: No, I've felt this before. It's happening ag…
(A figure approaches the car. It looks down on the two unresponsive figures.)
MURPHY: No. No, no, no, no. Please, no, not again.
(The figure opens the door. It pulls Murphy out, watching impassively as he falls to the wet pavement.)
MURPHY: Not now. Not now! I was so close! I was going…going to—
(Murphy reaches for his gun. The figure kicks it away.)
MURPHY: What did you do to me, you bastard?
Figure: A Scranton Reality detonation, Mr. Lawden, the strongest that could be devised, set to go off at a time of my choosing. It didn't have to be this way, you know. You could've taken the hint, backed off, left well enough alone. You've got no one to blame but yourself for all this.
(The figure kicks MURPH…Murph…y Law…den. It kicks Lawden again.)
(SCP-3143 staggers, struggling to look up. Against the piercing droplets of rain it beholds the visage of Site-278 Senior Containment Specialist Dr. Levye.)
SCP-3143: You…?
Levye: Yes, me, Mr. Lawden. Now go ahead and connect the dots. You're not so dense or washed-up that you can't even do that.
(SCP-3143 coughs.)
SCP-3143: You're with Horizon. A fucking mole.
Levye: Front of the class, Lawden. Go on.
SCP-3143: You…planted that thing on my car!
Levye: Without innocent little Claire even knowing, or the deliveryman. High marks.
(SCP-3143 groans, curling up in pain as the effects of the Scranton Reality detonation surge through his body.)
SCP-3143: You…killed those two people in Corsica.
Levye: What two people, Mr. Lawden? I don't remember a thing.
(Levye grins and crouches down. He removes SCP-3143's trilby, scuffling his hair before striking him.)
Levye: It's a beautiful assassin's tool, isn't it? You could kill anybody and nobody would ever remember it. Their bodies dissolve, leaving no evidence whatsoever. Of course, I wouldn't have been forced to do it if… (he pauses) If what, Lawden? Why was I forced to kill those two John Does? Tell me!
(SCP-3134 glares up at Levye.)
SCP-3143: How the hell should I know?
Levye: Because you're supposed to be the fucking detective, right? You wanted all this! This was your fantasy! Right? Or do I need to hold your goddamn hand?
(Levye reaches over, crushing SCP-3143's hand, causing him to yell in pain.)
SCP-3143: They found out who you were! They outed you! You shut down the security feeds and you…
(SCP-3143 roars in pain. Levye relents.)
Levye: There, see? That wasn't so hard, was it?
SCP-3143: But why'd you call Placeholder? Why help with the investigation?
Levye: (sighs) Because that's what a good mole does, Mr. Lawden: they divert suspicion by following the rules. I'll admit, I didn't expect you to catch on so quickly, what with how these things work, but…c'est la vie. Oh, and before you start pinning everything on me, no: I didn't hurt your weird book buddy. Another mole did that some time ago, just to test it out. I wouldn't have stopped at its foot. Ah. Almost forgot.
(Levye waves SCP-3143's trilby. He reaches inside, lifts the inner band, revealing a small recording device.)
Levye: Remember when you gave Romia your hat? She planted this on it. It's a good thing, too: otherwise, we wouldn't have picked up your friendly chat with the Insurgency. Ah, you're one to talk about moles, Lawden: all you seem to do is dig and dig. We were hoping you'd distract the C.I. a bit longer, or at least go out in a blaze of glory and spare us the trouble. Why else do you think we allowed you to wander around? But I guess even the best tools stop being useful eventually. Ah well.
(Levye tosses the trilby away. He reaches into his coat pocket and takes out a plastic bag containing a pencil. SCP-3143 panics.)
SCP-3143: I tackle this pompous asshole right in his knees, throwing him to the ground! Then I slug him in his ugly face, and…stab him in the eye with that pencil!
(Levye appears confused.)
Levye: What are you going on about? Did I hit your head too hard? (He kicks SCP-3143's head.) Hmm, or maybe I didn't hit it hard enough.
(SCP-3143 groans, rolling over as he attempts to orient himself.)
SCP-3143: What the hell…? Why isn't it working? Um…I run over and grab my magnum and give him a lead sandwich!
(SCP-3143 remains motionless. Levye chortles briefly.)
Levye: You've finally gone off the deep end, Mr. Lawden. Ah, you hate to see it.
SCP-3143: Levye trips and falls right onto his pencil and dies! He dies! He…stop! Get the fuck away from me, you maniac! Levye gets the fuck aw—
(Levye kicks SCP-3143 again. He goes silent.)
Levye: That's better. Now, let's see… What to remove first? Hmm, better test it out, just to be sure. We're supposed to only be using these on the most evil anomalies, but…
(Levye leans over, causally flicking the eraser against SCP-3143's chin, leaving a scar. SCP-3143 shudders but remains silent.)
Levye: Hmm, guess it works. Time for the real thing. Oh, and Murphy? Your typewriter friend says "fuck you".
(Levye smiles as he positions the eraser over SCP-3143's chest.)
Levye: Don't worry, Mr. Lawden, it's quick and painle—
(A pulsating black-and-purple spire abruptly protrudes from Levye's torso. Dietrichson appears behind him, the spire extending from her right hand.)
Dietrichson: Really, Anatole? A villainous monologue explaining your master plan to the protagonist before you kill him? Not a single original bone in your body, is there? Have you no shame, boy?
(Dietrichson retracts the spire and dismisses it. Levye's body falls to the wet pavement. SCP-3143 backs away as she dusts off her hands.)
Dietrichson: Well, hopefully your car still works. I'm sorry for playing possum like that; usually these expositional diatribes have a better chance of manifesting if the antagonist thinks they're alone. Ah.
(She finds SCP-3143's trilby and hands it to him. SCP-3143 does not respond.)
Dietrichson: Does your chin hurt? Personally I think it's an improvement. Come on, we have to get Veridas.
SCP-3143: I can't do it.
(Dietrichson stares inquisitively.)
Dietrichson: Come on, Murphy, he didn't hit you that hard.
SCP-3143: I can't do it!
(SCP-3143 shivers, showing Dietrichson his hands.)
SCP-3143: Look at me! Look at what he did to me! I'm not… I can't…
(Dietrichson rolls her eyes and crouches down.)
Dietrichson: All right, what's the problem, Murphy?
SCP-3143: The problem is I'm not fucking Murphy Law, all right? Not…not now, at least. And maybe not anymore. I've felt this sort of thing before, but I… I managed to get away from it without too much issue. But now it — it feels like it's just been ripped from me, and I can't find it or get it back or, or, or anything!
Dietrichson: You're not making sense, Murph. Just stand up and start walking. I'll drive if you n—
SCP-3143: But I'm not Murphy Law! I'm Murphy fucking Lawden! I'm a retired shoe-salesman from New Jersey who lives with his cats Philip and Marlowe! I'm not hard or handsome or ready to give anybody any fucking business: I'm a loser! A nobody! A fucking…oh, god!
(SCP-3143 hyperventilates. Dietrich stares at him calmly in the rain.)
SCP-3143: Guys like me don't go up against the Horizon Initiative, or hang out with gorgeous magical women, or have car chases with the Chaos Insurgency! I…I…I just write self-indulgent parodies of detective noir!
(SCP-3143 covers his face. Dietrichson patiently removes his hands, holding them gently.)
Dietrichson: And I'm still here.
(He blinks, bewildered.)
SCP-3143: Wh…what?
Dietrichson: I'm still here, Murphy. This is your true self, isn't it?
(He nods.)
Dietrichson: And I'm still here. I've seen you for who you really are, and I haven't gone anywhere. I'm still here by your side.
(SCP-3143 is silent for a moment.)
SCP-3143: Why?
Dietrichson: Because I know exactly what it's like to feel like you've lost everything. To be betrayed. To make horrible choices, just to survive. To be hated, over and over and over again. I understand pain and heartache like you wouldn't even believe. And I know the madness that comes with trying, desperately, for unending ages, to crawl out from all that and make something from the remnants. Even beyond hopeless insanity, you still try, and try, a candle burnt down to nothing, wondering if you'll ever get that second chance…
(Dietrichson smiles softly, putting a hand on SCP-3143's face. He shudders and glances away.)
SCP-3143: B-but y-you've got magic, special p…powers. You're alluring, smart, sophisticated. I got nothing.
(She nods respectfully.)
Dietrichson: So you say. And truthfully, I don't need you with me at all. I can handle this debacle all on my own.
(SCP-3143 glumly wipes the rain from his face. Dietrichson assists him.)
Dietrichson: But I still want to be with you. Do you understand? I don't need you with me, I want you with me.
(Dietrichson leans forward, gently kissing SCP-3143 on the forehead before withdrawing and standing up. She reaches her hand out.)
Dietrichson: Please, Murphy. I want to end this with you.
(Slowly, SCP-3143 raises its arm. Its fingers almost brush against Dietrichson's before they draw back.)
(He stands up. Adjusts his coat. Smiles shyly. Shakes her hand.)
SCP-3143: I…I can't promise you anything, Friday. I'm just a regular… Um, s-sorry; I mean, Barbara.
(Her laughter is like music.)
Dietrichson: You can call me Friday if you like. (She offers his trilby.) Mr. Lawden.
(He sheepishly puts the trilby on and takes a deep breath.)
SCP-3143: Well…no sense in you shoving your boot up Maxim Veridas's ass by yourself, right?
(Friday grins. SCP-3143 Lawden walks back to his car with her, pausing to carefully pick up and store Levye's discarded pencil. Friday opens the driver's door to Murphy's Packard. Lawden places his hand on hers, nods, and gets in. She smiles and gets in through the passenger side. Together they drive off in the rain.)
(Murphy's car pulls up in front of a large iron gate. Lawden gets out and tries opening it to no avail. He steps aside as Friday touches it. Intense heat transfers from her hand to the bars, which quickly melt. The gate opens. Lawden notices an active security camera before passing through.)
SCP-3143: Well, if they didn't know we were here before…
Friday: That's all right. Just a minor setback.
(Lawden flimsily removes the magnum from his holster.)
SCP-3143: I have to be honest, I'm not a very good shot with this. I don't even think I've fired it — I mean, me. I've never—
Friday: I'm not overly fond of firearms myself, but I'm sure you'll do fine.
(Lawden takes several deep breaths as they walk across a paved road to the manor. Six armed Horizon guards intercept them, shouting sharply.)
SCP-3143: Well, here goes no—
(Friday rapidly mutters in an arcane language, causing her hair and clothes to billow. The six guards groan, wobble, and tilt over. One of them is snoring.)
SCP-3143: Very handy. Are you sure you want me here, though? I feel so useless.
Friday: (smiles) I wouldn't trade you for Herakles himself.
(They continue to the manor, Friday putting several more guards to sleep. When they reach the front entrance, Lawden holds a hand up.)
SCP-3143: Wait a second. I saw something like this on MacGuyver. (He carefully aims his magnum at the lock, braces himself, and fires. The lock shatters, causing Lawden to exclaim.) Hey, it worked! (laughs)
(Friday silently places an encouraging hand on his shoulder. They enter the manor, Lawden guiding them down the hallway. Before they pass one of the doorways, Sister Claire emerges, visibly agitated.)
Claire: You'll have to leave before — oh, Mr. Law! Is that you? You look so…
SCP-3143: Um, yeah, it's a long story, Sister. Is Veridas here?
Claire: Yes, but… (She notices the broken lock and a smoking magnum in Lawden's hand, and begins trembling.) What do you want with him?
Friday: Move out of our way, girl, if you don't want to get hurt.
(Claire glares defiantly at Friday and bars the way. Friday raises her hand but Lawden lowers it.)
SCP-3143: Hang on, lemme try talking to her. Look, Sister, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but Veridas is making a weapon that kills narrative concepts. Uh…think of it like erasing characters, settings, and archetypes of stories. It also works on people; I don't know how. I just want to try and stop him before…
(Claire remains unmoved. Lawden hems. He reaches into his coat pocket, removing a plastic bag covering a pencil.)
SCP-3143: Do you have some food or a plant we could use? I think it's better if we show you.
(Claire remains motionless for a moment. Carefully she reaches into her pocket, producing an orange.)
Claire: I was…about to eat this when I heard that shot going off.
(Lawden takes the orange and carefully applies the eraser to it. Claire's eyes widen as the orange disintegrates. Lawden puts the pencil back in the bag.)
SCP-3143: A man named Anatole Levye killed two Foundation personnel with that. He also put some kind of explosive on my car while you were fixing it, and he tried to kill me. I know it's a lot to take in, but…
(Claire trembles.)
Claire: Max was always talking about ways to remove evil from the world. I even overheard him claiming he was onto something new. I never imagined…
SCP-3143: That's why we have to stop him. I know you two care for each other, but… (Lawden steps closer. He presents his magnum to Claire.) You want to know the truth, right? And so do we. Look, take my gun. He has a fireplace in his room; I'll throw the pencil in there. Does that work out for you?
(Claire nods timorously and cautiously confiscates the gun. Friday sighs.)
Friday: He may not give us the luxury of peaceful negotiations, you know.
SCP-3143: Yeah. But I won't be the one who starts any trouble.
(For an instant, a familiar gleam lights up in Lawden's eye.)
MURPHY
I'll just be the one who finishes it.
(Lawden moves on. Claire briefly stops him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He touches her hand, nodding, and she lets them go. He breathes a sigh of relief.)
Friday: You have a way with words, Murphy; I'm impressed. I wouldn't have been able to do that.
SCP-3143: Hmm, you probably would've just put her to sleep, or got her feet stuck to the floor.
Friday: (chuckles) Yes, but at the end of the day, I'd still have an enemy. You wouldn't.
(Lawden smiles proudly as they continue down the hallway. Around the middle, they find Biancospino barring their way. Her face is a mask of cold stone.)
Biancospino: You know, if I thought that warning you two would have any effect, I'd offer it, but it seems you're committed. Well, so am I.
Friday: You're in over your head, girl. Are you sure you want to lay down your life for…
(Friday freezes, gawking as Biancospino approaches them. All of her aggression rolls off like a weight, and she is left completely indolent. Biancospino smiles coldly, placing a hand on Friday's cheek.)
Biancospino: You witches are always so haughty…until your magic is taken away. (She slaps Friday.) Don't worry, your time will come. After all, you're the reason why we manufactured those erasers in the first place. But first, your friend: the man of the hour.
(She approaches Lawden, who has completely lost the will to fight.)
Biancospino: That's right. Just relax. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to remove you from existence and make the world forget all about Murphy Law. Ssshhhh.
(Biancospino produces a pencil from her belt, holding it before her as she calmly approaches Lawden. He tries making a run for it, but she tackles him against the wall, pinning his throat.)
Biancospino: Don't resist, Mr. Law. It's nothing personal, just tying up loose ends. Your death here heralds in a golden age where wicked witches no longer—
Friday: MURPHY!!
(Friday steps between them as Biancospino thrusts forward. The eraser strikes her square in the chest. She has just enough strength left to push the other woman away, before slowly falling backwards. Thunder peals.)
(Although Lawden cannot be sure, he thinks he sees a flock of doves fluttering from Friday's chest as she falls.)
(Lawden catches her.)
SCP-3143: Friday! FRIDAY! No! No, no no no no no…
(He trembles as the light leaves her eyes. Slowly, she looks at him, reaching her hand up to caress his face. He holds her hand.)
Friday: (whispering) I know…you won't…forget me, Murphy. And…I know I…I'll never…for…get…
(She fades, and is gone. Lawden wails quietly.)
(Biancospino shakes herself and climbs back to her feet. The pencil is gone.)
Biancospino: Not quite how I planned it out. Oh well.
SCP-3143: YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!
(Lawden lunges at her, but stops short, his fist trembling as it hovers a breath away from Biancospino's face. She stares at it coldly as he lurches away.)
Biancospino: Hmm, too bad: she only delayed the inevitable. I won't be able to erase you, but at least I'll be able to dispose of you. (She bends over and produces a stiletto from her boot.) This might sting a little.
(Biancospino makes it two steps before something wraps around her waist. Before she can react, she is squeezed tightly, forcing her to drop her weapon. Lawden stares in wonder as Claire lifts Biancospino's feet off the ground.)
Biancospino: Claire?! How are…you…
(She winces as Claire squeezes tighter.)
Claire: I'm not being violent! I'm hugging someone who's a very dear friend and mentor! I'm just being very, very affectionate about it!
(Biancospino gurgles as Claire lifts her even higher. Lawden gawks.)
SCP-3143: What the hell are you, lady? A sumo wrestler?
Claire: No, I just grew up in a strict convent. Where's your friend?
SCP-3143: Dead. Her killer's in your arms.
Claire: Is that so? Well then, how about some extra love?
(Something pops and Biancospino nearly passes out. Claire struggles to keep her pinned.)
Claire: It's okay, Mr. Law! We'll hug this out! You go do what you need to do!
(Lawden whistles and tips his hat.)
SCP-3143: Musta been some convent. I owe you one, Sister.
(Lawden runs forward, guided by…
guided by the spirit of the woman he loved.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
INT. GRAND INQUISITOR VERIDAS'S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON
VERIDAS is seated at his desk. A mellow fire is burning briskly on the opposite end of the room. Rain patters softly on the window, the silence broken by the low rumbling of thunder. The door opens, and a figure walks through.
VERIDAS
Well done, Romia. That went better than we could have…
The door shuts. VERIDAS looks up, seeing the figure. It is MURPHY. He walks over to the fireplace, taking out the pencil he confiscated from Levye, showing it to VERIDAS. He then throws it in the fire.
VERIDAS
You'll need something a bit larger than that if you want to stay warm, my son.
MURPHY
It's over, Veridas. I'm here to put a stop to you. I gave my word to a good woman that I wouldn't get rough with you unless I had to, but right now, I'm awful tempted to break that word.
VERIDAS
What's the matter, Mr. Law? You seem different from the last time we met.
MURPHY
I'm not in a good mood, padre. I just watched a woman I cared about die. The weapons you're manufacturing were responsible.
VERIDAS calmly stands up, taking a bottle of white wine from a rack. He pours himself a glass.
VERIDAS
Those "weapons", as you put it, are our best hope of ridding this world of its true evils.
Zoom in on MURPHY'S eyes as they glare. Cut back to VERIDAS, staring coolly as he takes a drink.
VERIDAS
I realize that sort of rhetoric doesn't sit well with you, but when I say "evil", I mean it, in its barest and purest form. A bent rod can be reshaped, a flaw can be improved upon, a broken vase repaired — but true evil, true diseases? The sort that even one as cynical as you would be repulsed by? Who would not share our desire to eradicate that?
MURPHY
Levye seemed to agree with you. He's dead now. Thought you'd want to know.
VERIDAS
Hmm. He reaped what he sowed. You know, that "woman" was one of the oldest and most powerful witches in all of history, Mr. Law. You have no idea the sort of horrors she's unleashed on the world, how many people she's killed, betrayed, lied to, cursed. The depths of her wickedness are immeasurable.
He sips from his glass.
MURPHY
She was good to me, padre, even when I didn't deserve it. That's all I care about.
VERIDAS
(scoffs)
I'm shocked that someone like you could be so blindly sentimental. But good riddance all the same. Romia's in for quite a promotion—
MURPHY
Good riddance?
LAWDEN
GOOD RIDDANCE? What the hell do you know, asshole?!
NARRATOR
I rushed at the filthy old codger and slammed him against the wall, upsetting several bottles and books.
LAWDEN
Do you have any idea what I've been through?! I lost the finest woman this world has ever known! She was a fucking goddess, you bastard, with more kindness and warmth than I'll ever deserve! She looked at a dead-end loser with nothing to offer and saw something beautiful! Do you know what it's like to have someone know you that well, and still wanna be around you?! Do you know what it's like to watch that same person die in your arms, right after she saved your worthless life? HUH?! Where's the "good riddance" in that, you reprehensible piece of fucking shit!!
NARRATOR
I wanted to kill him. I wanted to rip his face off and shove it down his screaming throat. I wanted to crucify him on his bones, pin him like the insect he was. But then I…
NARRATOR
Then I remembered what I came here for, so I just jostled him a little. Then I let him go.
VERIDAS coughs, dusts himself off, and straightens his clothes.
MURPHY
Where are the rest of these pencils being made? Talk and I'll show myself out.
VERIDAS drinks the rest of his glass. He glares at MURPHY.
VERIDAS
Now you strive for my position, detective? What makes you think I'll share that information?
MURPHY
Because if you don't, I'll break your legs and turn this office inside-out until I find something.
VERIDAS scowls, knowing MURPHY isn't bluffing. He silently reaches around his neck, removing a lanyard with a key on it. He unlocks a drawer in his desk and stands back. MURPHY keeps his eye on VERIDAS as he opens it. Inside is a folder, which he takes and skims over. One of the papers has shipping information for a warehouse. MURPHY puts the folder in his coat pocket.
MURPHY
Thanks. Give my regards to Sister Claire.
MURPHY turns his back. He hears the click of a revolver.
VERIDAS
And give mine to that witch!
MURPHY whirls around, going for his gun — but realizes he gave it to CLAIRE! He winces as VERIDAS fires…
He cannot be sure, but he thinks he sees an ethereal hand grab the gun and point it away. It fires harmlessly into the wall.
It could be his imagination, but he thinks he hears a voice:
"Give him hell, Murphy Law!"
NARRATOR
Sorry, Sister. All bets are off. Time to give him a bit of the business.
MURPHY strikes VERIDAS, who falls to the ground. MURPHY straddles him and raises his fist. Pan back to show their shadows cast against the wall.
NARRATOR
So I gave it to him.
He strikes VERIDAS.
NARRATOR
Again.
He strikes VERIDAS.
NARRATOR
And again.
He strikes VERIDAS.
NARRATOR
And again.
He strikes VERIDAS.
NARRATOR
And again.
He strikes VERIDAS multiple times.
NARRATOR
I was in a REAL giving mood that day.
MURPHY continues to strike VERIDAS, until there is nothing left to strike. He staggers to his feet, catching his breath, his hand shaking uncontrollably.
NARRATOR
I breathed deep, my lungs filling with blood and smoke and fire. I must've shattered every bone in my hand during our "exchange". Every second brings with it a rush of throbbing pain that ripples through muscles and nerves until it overcomes me completely. I took one last look at whatever was left of Veridas. All things considered, I'd say I got a pretty good deal.
MURPHY randomly takes a bottle of wine off the shelf, pops the cork, and drinks from the bottle. He pours some on his hand and walks out of the room. In the distance, he sees CLAIRE sitting on BIANCOSPINO. She looks over, seeing his mangled hand covered in blood and wine. Her eyes widen in horror. MURPHY sighs and tips his trilby.
MURPHY
Sorry bout' the mess.
MURPHY leaves the manor and drives off, alone.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
EXT. NONDESCRIPT WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
MURPHY LAW'S Packard is seen idling some distance away from the warehouse. MURPHY sits in silence, an Agifold camera in the passenger seat next to him. He stares at the warehouse for several minutes before shutting off the engine. He takes the camera and gets out of the car, taking several photographs of the exterior. He then opens the trunk, removing a canister of gasoline. Two armed guards rush out of the warehouse door. MURPHY fires twice. He walks past their bodies and opens the door.
MURPHY takes a moment to study the interior. A large portion of the warehouse has shelves full of crates. MURPHY finds a crowbar and opens one of them. Inside are countless pencils, each one sealed in a small, clear plastic wrapper. MURPHY douses the crates in gasoline and continues exploring the warehouse. He soon comes to the main factory floor, where an automated system cuts the pencils and fits the graphite. He takes several photos and pours gasoline on the machinery. MURPHY notices a steel security door off to the side. He tries opening it, then shoots at the handle. The door opens, revealing thaumaturgists of Malleus, Horizon's main force. MURPHY shoots them all and takes several photographs. He notes this is the room where the effects of SCP-2747 are bonded to the erasers. He empties half his canister in the room.
MURPHY takes several finished pencils and photographs them. He then records their effects on one of the bodies, finally ending with a picture of discarded clothes. MURPHY continues exploring the warehouse and factory, taking various photos, slowly emptying his canister. Once he notices there are only five shots left in his camera, he reaches into his pocket and produces his lighter and a bottle. He empties the last of his gasoline in the bottle, stuffs a rag into the neck, and ignites his lighter. He brings the fire close, studying the flame. He covers his nose and mouth with a wet cloth, lights the rag, and throws the cocktail into the center of the factory. A conflagration bursts. MURPHY watches the fire spread, then slowly walks out, taking pictures of the fire. As he exits, he tosses his lighter behind him, walking away from the burning building. He briefly turns around to take one last photo.
Fifty members of the Chaos Insurgency are waiting outside. One of them, a red-haired woman with an eye patch, approaches MURPHY, armed with an assault rifle.
MURPHY
Any problems, lady?
COMMANDER
No sir, Mr. Law. No problems here.
The COMMANDER signals for her people to stand down. MURPHY walks through them. The COMMANDER and her group keep a silent vigil over the flames. MURPHY heads to his car, puts the camera in the passenger seat, and drives away.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
INT. TELEPHONE BOOTH - MID-MORNING
MURPHY LAW is conversing with PLACEHOLDER MCDOCTORATE. His right hand is in a cast.
PLACEHOLDER
(sighs)
I would have preferred it if you had kept at least one of them for a sample. Levye confiscated the pieces you left at 278.
MURPHY
Yeah, sorry about that, Doc, but me and my smoking habits. You know how it is. Oh, how's Fred?
PLACEHOLDER
It was returned to containment recently. Director Mann reported seeing a "Freddie the butcher" walking with a cane around 221 Baker Street.
MURPHY
Oh yeah? Well…that's good. So are we all squared up?
PLACEHOLDER
We are. Not to complete satisfaction, but sometimes the Foundation has to take what they can get. My condolences for your friend.
A silence passes between them.
MURPHY
Ancient history. It's not like you were acquainted.
PLACEHOLDER
We were, actually. She came to us after you first met her. Gave us a note to leave you if things ever settled down.
The silence returns. MURPHY swallows.
MURPHY
Oh yeah?
PLACEHOLDER
I didn't open it. I just put it in the slot.
MURPHY
Real considerate of ya, Doc. Thanks.
PLACEHOLDER
And thank you, Mr. Lawden.
(silence)
Excuse me: Mr. L—
MURPHY
Hey, Placeholder? Do me a favor, would ya?
PLACEHOLDER
Mmm, what's that?
MURPHY
The next time you're in the neighborhood? Turn around and walk the other way.
MURPHY hangs up and leaves the booth. He walks back to his office, passing his Packard. He opens the door, hanging his coat on a rack. He notices an envelope on the floor and picks it up, then sits at his desk and opens it. A letter is inside.
"Murphy—
Thanks for putting up with me. You have no idea how wonderful it feels to have someone on my side, even for a short time. No matter what happens, no matter what anybody else says, I know you're a good man. I hope that means something to you.
With all of my love,
Friday"
MURPHY blinks as he reads the letter. He finds a tissue and wipes his entire face.
MURPHY
Darned heat.
He folds the letter so that it stays open, putting it on his desk. He then looks over at his calendar, seeing the date as Friday 13th.
MURPHY grins and laughs out loud. He keeps his smile as he leans back, puts his feet on his desk, and tilts his trilby over his eyes.
Pan back, showing MURPHY LAW resting peacefully in his office.
SLOW FADE OUT.
Item Number: SCP-8643
Containment Class: Neutralized
Special Containment Procedures: All existing samples of SCP-8643, including design specifications, have been incinerated by SCP-3143, though the Chaos Insurgency has also claimed responsibility. The Foundation will continue to monitor the Horizon Initiative and the phenomenon of SCP-2747 for any potential future instance.
Description: SCP-8643 was a #2 wooden pencil bearing an eraser with the traits and properties of SCP-2747, produced by the Horizon Initiative for the purpose of permanently annihilating narrative constructs2 on a physical, memetic, and noospherical level. Through [REDACTED] means, SCP-8643 was also effective on organic entities normally not considered pataphysical in nature, including baseline humans, animals, anomalies, etc. Thaumaturgists of Project Malleus managed to graft the properties of SCP-2747 onto these erasers; when touching a narrative construct, said construct would be completely removed from all cognitive and memetic cohesion, commiserate to the area touched3. Due to the process of wear-and-tear, a mass quantity had been produced4. Dr. McDoctorate is to be consulted for more information.
Multiple SCP-8643 instances, photographed by SCP-3143.
Site-15
Director McDoctorate's office
15:33 pm
(Placeholder is composing his report on SCP-8643. As he cross-references something, he hears a soft sound but does not look up. An amorphous figure5 manifests in his office.)
Placeholder: Can't keep a wicked witch down, can you?
Entity: (chuckles) Only a little aspect6 of myself, another skin for the snake to slough. Parting and sweet sorrow and so forth. Still, it was a salutary experience, and one of my more satisfying deaths.
Placeholder: You know, "Friday" refers to a character from a Howard Hawks comedy, not a film noir. And the portmanteau of Barbara Stanwyck and Phyllis Dietrichson? I'm surprised 3143 didn't expose you.
Entity: (laughs) You of all people wouldn't begrudge me an alias — would you, Na—
(The figure stops itself as Placeholder panics. He relaxes as she chuckles and feigns embarrassment.)
Entity: Oops. I almost broke another rule.
Placeholder: As if my past and future selves didn't bother me enough. Speaking of breaking, I wonder if you feel shame for the way you manipulated 3143 like that.
Entity: (shrugs) We all got what we wanted in the end, and our narrative has been saved from calamity. I don't see the harm.
Placeholder: You're forgetting, Horizon's going to hold us responsible for killing one of its Grand Inquisitors. Hardly a desired outcome. (shrugs) Then again, the Chaos Insurgency will likely ease up for awhile.
Entity: There, you see? The universe balances itself out.
Placeholder: Even 3143's apparent happy ending?
(The figure smiles with a sweet cruelty.)
Entity: Oh, don't worry, I'm sure he'll be back to alcoholism, misanthropy, and near-death experiences shortly — which could be what he really wants.
Placeholder: Ah, the never-ending cycle of serialized narrative sensationalism, where everything and nothing changes. So to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this time? If you need someone to talk to, I've got a few assistants who are in-between projects…
Entity: Nothing of the sort, Doctor: the opposite, in fact. I'm taking hiatus from my regular activities and traveling to Orcadia.
(Placeholder frowns, pausing his work. He studies the witch carefully.)
Placeholder: Oh? Revisiting old haunts?
Entity: No: I've heard that I have a doppelganger there, and I'd like to ascertain the rumors.
Placeholder: (sighs) Just what we need, two of you. Dare I even hope that you keep the encounter peaceful?
Entity: I can only make promises for myself, Doctor, and I'm loathe to do even that. Whatever my alternate twin does is out of my hands. All the more reason to meet her.
(The woman grins, turning into an old hag as she leans back, cackling wildly. She vanishes in a cloud of smoke.)
(Placeholder coughs and fans the smoke away.)
Placeholder: Fucking archetypes.
SCP-3143 with SCP-7632-A.
CREDITS ROLL:
SECURITY OFFICER GUENON played by…
MILIA GUENON
SECURITY OFFICER LEZARD played by…
SIMON LEZARD
CONTROL played by…
VINCENT CORBEAU
DR. LEVYE played by…
ANATOLE LEVYE
MURPHY LAW played by…
PLACEHOLDER MCDOCTORATE played by…
CLINIC PATIENT/FRITHU played by…
SISTER CLAIRE played by…
CLAIRE DOUGLAS
THUG played by…
ESTEVAN CARLOTTO
PACIFICATOR BIANCOSPINO played by…
ROMIA BIANCOSPINO
GRAND INQUISITOR VERIDAS played by…
MAXIM VERIDAS
COMMANDER played by…
LIATH CAIRILL
And featuring SCP-7632-A as
BARBARA "FRIDAY" DIETRICHSON
WITH SPECIAL THANKS TO SITE-19 AND SITE-278, THE ESTATE OF MAXIM VERIDAS, RESEARCH STATION 43, BASE 56-YANKEE, AND YOU.
LOOK FOR MURPHY LAW TO RETURN IN…
THE HARVEST RUNS RED!
THE END
Cite this page as:
"SCP-8643" by Mister_Toasty, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8643. Licensed under CC BY-SA.
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide.
Filename: pencil_pencils_eraser_school_supplies_office_supplies-641426
Author: unknown
License: Public Domain
Source Link: https://pxhere.com/en/photo/641426
Filename: 1200px-OutOfThePastMitchumGreer
Name: OutOfThePastMitchumGreer.jpg
Author: RKO Radio Pictures
License: Public Domain
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:OutOfThePastMitchumGreer.jpg
