By available means, normist organizations must be prevented from capturing any SCP-9070 child instance. Any suspected move to do so must be met with lethal interception.

Description: SCP-9070 was an explosion of thaumaturgic energy that originated from eastern Qeqqeta, Greenland at 11:23 UTC on the 26th of June, 2025. It expanded to an estimated radius of 200,000 to 350,000 kilometers from its point of origin and passed through most materials without resistance. It fully permeated through Earth at a point approximately 400-500 kilometers north of Concordia Station, Antarctica 1 minute and 32 seconds after its manifestation.

SCP-9070's main anomalous property was the disappearance of and/or the complete neutralization of anomalous effects and objects it passed through for approximately 11 seconds on average. It remained undetected by non-anomalous measuring equipment.

As a result of this effect, several anomalous methods of containment and travel became irrevocably damaged and must be restored from their initial stages. It is currently poorly understood what causes anomalies to be temporarily disrupted as opposed to permanently. Examples of these include:

Several standardized containment cells;
Spatial fissures, artificial or otherwise;
Memetic and antimemetic veiling thaumaturgy and technology.

The secondary effect was the creation of child instances, respectively known as SCP-9070-Alpha, -Beta, -Gamma, -Delta and -Epsilon, which manifested immediately upon SCP-9070's activation. These child instances were triangulated by Scranton Wave Disruptions¹ detected by Foundation Hume biotechnical sensoriums on a global scale.

Each SCP-9070 child instance is engraved with a message written in Latin from an individual identifying themselves as "Contranumen". While the exact anomalous properties of these pillars are currently unknown, individuals who are A) equipped with paratechnology² or B) possess anomalous properties³ have reported difficulty concentrating in the sites' proximity.

UPDATE: SCP-9070's child instances can be manipulated by Exacratus⁴-class thaumaturges to obtain True Normalcy. Due to this, the Recordkeeping and Information Security Administration (RAISA) is currently deliberating upgrading SCP-9070 from Ekhi to Keneq Disruption Class.

Addendum 9070-0-1: O5 Council meeting regarding SCP-9070

June 26th 2025 12:36 UTC⁵

1 HOUR AND 13 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

^{Site-01 O5 Council primary meeting room prior to the destruction caused in the wake of SCP-9070.}

FOREWORD: The following emergency meeting has been made available to all personnel with Security Clearance 3 and above in the interest of securing coherent and quick action. Audio and video were recorded through O5-6The Singularity due to a lack of recording equipment in the O5 Command Room.

In attendance: O5-2The Lieutenant, O5-5The Shadow, O5-6The Singularity, O5-11The Butcher, O5-13The Analyst.
Absent with clarity: O5-1The AnomalyThe Anomaly, O5-3The Physicist, O5-7The Chemist, O5-8The Biologist, O5-9The Rocker.
Absent without clarity: O5-4The Warlock⁶, O5-10The Summoner⁷, O5-12The Consul⁸

<O5-2The Lieutenant, O5-5The Shadow, O5-6The Singularity and O5-13The Analyst are seated in their respective seats. O5-11The Butcher forcefully enters the room and slams the door behind him. He leaves behind traces of blood on the door.>

O5-11The Butcher: Alright, seems like good old Site-01 is burned. Concealing paratech failed, like anything else.

<O5-11The Butcher takes off his blazer and tosses it into the corner of the room. The antimemetic effect that hides O5-11The Butcher's appearance⁹ is nullified for the blazer as it leaves the effective range. It is visibly covered in blood.>

O5-6The Singularity: Goodness Eleven, what in the heavens happened to you?

<O5-6The Singularity begins to stand up, but sits down after O5-11The Butcher gestures for her to sit.>

O5-11The Butcher: Oh, lay off. These were simply some… internal affairs with the on-site personnel that needed immediate attention.

O5-6The Singularity: I assume the site personnel have gone to greener pastures? You do have a knack for that.

<O5-11The Butcher scoffs.>

O5-5The Shadow: Do you mean to imply that the Red Right Hand had opportunistic traitors within the ranks?

<O5-5The Shadow blows smoke out of his nostrils.>

O5-6The Singularity: I'd imagine not, given the time it took to stabilize and reboot the reality anchors, chances are our loyal… henchmen simply fell to some Serpent's Hand or Children of the Scarlet King trickery.

<O5-13The Analyst scratches their nails against the table, leaving inch-deep marks that have traces of blood left behind. Shortly after, his hand phases through the table, prompting him to cease the activity.>

O5-2The Lieutenant: They will be remembered fondly. Is the threat handled?

O5-11The Butcher: With three fireaxes, a dozen kitchen knives and a trident.

O5-2The Lieutenant: Good. I've overreached my position a bit and already activated all standing and auxiliary forces, as per request of O5-1The Anomaly.

<O5-13The Analyst shuffles uncomfortably.>

O5-2The Lieutenant: They should be standing by as we speak.

The room is silent for 3 seconds. O5-6The Singularity places her head in her hands.

O5-2The Lieutenant: Wonderful, with that out of the way — Thirteen, did you have a report for us?

<O5-13The Analyst takes a deep breath and presses a button under the table. A holographic map of the Earth fades in over the duration of 6 seconds, with 5 red dots scattered throughout the surface of the Earth.>

O5-13The Analyst: Roughly an hour ago, two satellites- one orbiting the Earth and the other her moon- observed a combustion of reality anchoring energy originating from Greenland. Much to the benefit of our entire operation, this wasn't detected by any overveil authorities or institutes.

O5-5The Shadow takes off his glasses, making the eyewear perceivable to the other overseers. It is presumed that O5-5The Shadow noticed that the purple glass has been severely fractured and mutters something inaudible under his breath. He tosses the glasses aside.

O5-13The Analyst: As far as we are-

<O5-5The Shadow coughs into his sleeve and expels black smoke from his lungs.>

O5-5The Shadow: Look, Thirteen. Even if your report is incredible, I do not feel the need to be reminded of it 6 minutes after reading it.

<O5-13The Analyst inhales sharply and tosses his notes onto the table.>

O5-11The Butcher: What the hell even caused this amount of energy? Don't we have equipment for detecting this before it happens?

O5-5The Shadow: It's not like the efforts in the Arctic have been entirely up to code. And that's not accounting for bureaucracy, incompetence and corruption.

<O5-6The Singularity inhales sharply and glances to O5-11The Butcher with a literal steel expression.>

O5-6The Singularity: A lonely site up north with little activity would be perfect for relaxed protocol and mismanagement of funds.

<O5-6The Singularity eyes O5-11The Butcher up and down, who in turn tilts his head.>

O5-2The Lieutenant: Let's… handle that at another time. Do we have any personnel in Greenland that can act swiftly?

O5-13The Analyst picks up the discarded notes again and flips through 9 pages.

O5-13The Analyst: I'm afraid that as of right now we only have a geology outpost and— well— the remaining Red Right Hand tryouts we sent to Greenland, totaling eight personnel in Greenland, Four included.

<O5-2The Lieutenant closes his eyes for a little longer than a blink. O5-6The Singularity turns her head towards the visible blood left behind by O5-11The Butcher on the door. O5-13The Analyst looks through the same nine pages again in an exasperated manner.>

O5-6The Singularity: I trust Four to handle Greenland. For me, the most pressing issue remains the pillars that have been reported.

O5-13The Analyst: I do not find the fog of war regarding anomalous instances spawned after a once-in-a-century event acceptable. The neutralizing blast made it past the Moon, whatever it has left behind should be assumed to be of equally awesome energy.

O5-11The Butcher: Right, well. Most of our personnel are currently fighting off surprise raids by the Serpent's Hand, Chaos Insurgency, at least three rogue chapters of the Broken Church, at least a single Daevite warlord, encouraged SCP-1000 instances with a mind for revenge and quite possibly extraterrestrial travelers whose ship got knocked out of the sky by SCP-9070. And that is not to mention the currently confirmed hundreds of containment breaches, as well as the unconfirmed ones, the theoretical ones and potentially ones we're incapable of remembering.

O5-5The Shadow: We're paralyzed.

<O5-2The Lieutenant sighs. He draws his sidearm and discharges it towards a seemingly random spot on the wall. Blood splatter appears on the wall, and the sound of a body dropping to the floor can be heard.>

O5-2The Lieutenant: And compromised. Standard emergency procedure, we'll regroup tomorrow. Six?

<O5-6The Singularity, who had started to collect the papers in front of her, pauses.>

O5-2The Lieutenant: I direly need someone to get ahead on securing those pillars. Get some usable people on this, anyone available.

O5-6The Singularity: I'll do my best. Godspeed, friends.

<O5-2The Lieutenant acquires two pistols from under his seat and leaves through the main door. O5-5The Shadow disappears in a black cloud of smoke. O5-6The Singularity folds into an impossibly small, arachnid-shaped form with audible mechanical whirling and departs the room through a crack in the wall. O5-11The Butcher retrieves three hunting knives from under his designated part of the table and climbs up an invisible ladder to the above floor. O5-13The Analyst phases through the floor below.>

<The holographic display of Earth flickers before turning off.>

<END LOG>

Document 1: Alpha Pillar

I have forsaken the name granted to me by parents and lineage, for as of this vow I will embark on my life's mission; The equity of the downtrodden and the well-born. For this purpose, I am taking on the moniker of Contranumen.

It is my belief that those who wield enhanced power, blessed by lineage or fortune, hold positions granted to them by Divinity, yet they see their advantage as self-obtained. They believe themselves masters when they've inherited a stoneworker's fine tools.

I will set out into the world and learn of how civilizations handle this matter. As I was informed by my father, a man of many a successful campaign and grand wealth, look to the horizons when an issue seems insurmountable. So I shall travel the world and seek the philosophers of the lands beyond to humbly request their wisdom.

I've packed many a gift for barter and appreciation, and I shall hope that the wise men of the world will meet me with the kindness I beseech them for.

For the common man.

-Contranumen

Addendum 9070-1-1: Vestergaard and Wrenna's Assignment and Briefing

7 HOURS AND 2 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Sgt. Thorstein Vestergaard and Dr. George Wrenna were selected by O5-6The Singularity to secure SCP-9070-Alpha due to relevant combat experience and anomalous capabilities. Following O5-6The Singularity's arrival to Site-14, Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna were ordered to report to the site director's office.

FOREWORD: Video and audio was recorded from onsite security cameras installed in the Administrative Wing of Site-14.

<BEGIN LOG>

<Sgt. Thorstein Vestergaard and Dr. George Wrenna are sitting in the waiting area outside Site Director Grenn's office. Sgt. Vestergaard wears a white shirt and brown suit pants held up with suspenders. His attire is covered in holes, soot and blood. Dr. Wrenna wears a sterile lab coat, latex gloves and protective eyewear.>

Dr. Wrenna: You've… been busy?

<Sgt. Vestergaard slowly cants his head towards Wrenna. He raises his eyebrows and smiles, seemingly tired.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: No, just peachy, I just decided to throw on my clothes from the Great Fire of 1666 to see if I still fit into them.

Dr. Wrenna: … Right.

<A loud crash can be heard. The waiting room shakes violently. Neither Vestergaard nor Wrenna comments on this.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: So what could they possibly want with the two of us, mh? Are you being a pushover again and dragging me into things to help you out?

<Sgt. Vestergaard leans back in the chair and stares into the wall ahead. Dr. Wrenna rolls his eyes and sighs.>

Dr. Wrenna: Your idea of what counts as a pushover is aged, man.

Sgt. Vestergaard: What, did having a spine fall out of fashion in the last century or something?

Dr. Wrenna: Yeah, sure. So did the whole macho trend. You've had centuries to get with the times, why not catch up?

Sgt. Vestergaard scoffs. The door to the site director's office opens, revealing an entity that is antimemetically concealed. It gestures Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna inside.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Well. That's new.

<Sgt. Vestergaard stands and draws his sidearm. He idly keeps it at his side in clear violation of Foundation gun safety guidelines.>

Dr. Wrenna: You're going to have to identify yourself, sir.

<Dr. Wrenna removes his protective eyewear and tosses it to the side with one hand and loosens his tie with his other hand.>

O5-6The Singularity: You may fire if you so please, but I'd prefer if you'd skip the unnecessary violence. It's not like I can easily harm either of you. Nor can you touch me.

<Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna exchange a glance. Sgt. Vestergaard discharges his sidearm towards O5-6The Singularity's torso 4 times. The bullets break on impact. Sgt. Vestergaard mouths out a quiet "oh" and lowers his sidearm, enabling the safety on it. Notably, there is no record of him disabling the safety.>

Dr. Wrenna: Curious. Though I do hope that you'd relent on your mystique a bit, it's a rather tired personality quirk these days.

<O5-6The Singularity steps inside the site director's office and removes something antimemetically concealed from her head, which in turn reveals her appearance. In place of hair, she has a collection of wires that terminates in a multitude of plugs and adapter ports. She is wearing a business suit with folded up sleeves, revealing her metallic arms. From the last bend of her fingers and below she has a rubber-like substance making up her digits, her jaw is made of the same material. Everything above said jaw and beneath her hairline appears to be human skin.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Oh my.

Dr. Wrenna: Church of the Broken God member, perhaps one of the day-shy Steelchain
Daggers¹⁰?

<O5-6The Singularity flares her nostrils and shakes her head. She sits down behind the site director's desk, and gestures to the two chairs in front of the desk.>

O5-6The Singularity: Not quite. I am Overseer Six. Please step inside and close the door behind you, I have matters of grave importance to discuss with you.

<Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna exchange another glance and move to sit at the designated seats, seemingly hesitantly. Sgt. Vestergaard places his sidearm in his lap and leans back in the chair. Dr. Wrenna removes the plastic gloves he was wearing and tosses them into a bin next to the desk.>

O5-6The Singularity: Now then-

Sgt. Vestergaard: One moment, I'm going to need verification of your position, supposed Overseer.

<O5-6The Singularity sighs and reaches inside of her suit to retrieve two files, one of them labelled VESTERGAARD, THORSTEIN and the other WRENNA, GEORGE WILLIAM. Dr. Wrenna inhales sharply.>

📎 ATTACHED FILE: VESTERGAARD, THORSTEIN PERSONNEL FILE

📎 CLOSE ATTACHMENT: VESTERGAARD, THORSTEIN PERSONNEL FILE

Alexander%20Murray%20%287788034986%29%20cropped.png

NAME(S): Vestergaard, Thorstein
AGE: 26*
SEX: [REDACTED AS PER THE PROGRESSIVE FOUNDATION ACT OF 2021]
• Chosen Gender: Male
• Chosen Pronouns: He/Him/His
SPECIES: Human*
DATE OF BIRTH (IF APPLICABLE): Unknown. NOTE: VESTERGAARD assumes mid to late 1760s.

SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): Danish, English and German
EDUCATION: None
EXPERTISE: Former Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd. operative (83 years of experience), Foundation armed forces (6 years of experience), infiltration expert

CURRENT POSITION: Sergeant of Mobile Task Force Gamma-22 ("Cosmos Tranquility"), Site-14 emergency security officer

DISCIPLINARY LOG: [Removed due to file limitations, see File G-22-03-DISC for more information.]

HISTORY: While VESTERGAARD has not disclosed the origin of his anomaly, something that was disallowed at his time of entry into the Foundation¹¹, he has been very cooperative communicating his background. He was born and raised in Denmark and moved to London during the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. He claims to have spent much of his time in the organized crime environments of London, which lead to him being employed by MAXIMILLIAN CARTER in 1860.

He spent the duration of his association with Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd. as one of CARTER's numerous enforcers. Due to an oath VESTERGAARD claims to have taken, he refuses to divulge information regarding this period in time.

[THE REMAINING INFORMATION IS ONLY AVAILABLE TO PERSONNEL WITH CLEARANCE LEVEL 3 AND ABOVE, AND HAS THUS BEEN REMOVED.]

ADDITIONAL NOTES: VESTERGAARD possess anomalous traits that allow his body to regenerate from and survive any injury he sustains. Upon circumstances where a mundane human will expire, his anomaly will start regenerating his body and revive him over a course of roughly half a minute to five minutes, depending on the severity of the injuries. VESTERGAARD often forces this effect to manifest through self-termination.

*: Due to VESTERGAARD's anomaly, it is unclear what precise age he is, but functionally appears as a 26 year old human male.

📎 ATTACHED FILE: WRENNA, GEORGE WILLIAM PERSONNEL FILE

Sgt. Vestergaard: … You could've stolen those.

O5-6The Singularity: Vestergaard, with all the due respect I am capable of, we both know who I am.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Eh. Whatever, fine. Sorry for threatening you with a gun.

<Sgt. Vestergaard holsters his sidearm and folds his hands.>

O5-6The Singularity: All part of the position, dearest.

Dr. Wrenna: I've been… subject to lava?

O5-6The Singularity: I believe the technical term is magma, Doctor.

Dr. Wrenna: Oh.

<Dr. Wrenna squints.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: So you need two invincible friends for something, did you run out of meatbags to throw at a problem?

O5-6The Singularity: Not quite. There are many problems that the Foundation is currently handling after the brief disruption of anomalies. 12% of the blind population were briefly able to see again, Finland sank for the duration of SCP-9070 and we're pretty sure that Planet X's antimemetic properties were interrupted long enough for at least three observatories to have acquired picture proof of its existence.

Dr. Wrenna: Ah, yes. I've been busy managing instantaneously manifesting quicksilver over in Chemistry, it's quite a mess.

Sgt. Vestergaard: I heard Site-03 is busy dealing with escapees from the Werewolf Pit.

<Dr. Wrenna sighs deeply. O5-6The Singularity nods in confirmation.>

O5-6The Singularity: Overall, quite a mess. So, we're sending you out on some… fieldwork.

<O5-6The Singularity retrieves a map from her jacket and rolls it out on the desk. It shows the regions of Antarctica.>

O5-6The Singularity: You're both strong gentlemen. You can handle a bit of cold, as well as potential encounters with Insurgents. So, we're sending you on a field trip to investigate and secure SCP-9070-Alpha.

<Sgt. Vestergaard inhales deeply in an exaggerated manner. He reaches for his sidearm again, though ceases doing so after a few seconds. Dr. Wrenna covers his eyes with his hand and removes his tie with the other.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: When are we leaving?

<O5-6The Singularity looks at her wrist, it has no watch.>

O5-6The Singularity: As of the start of this meeting, your jet bound for Antarctica departs in 30 minutes.

Sgt. Vestergaard: I— well, how do I put thi-

Dr. Wrenna: Fucking what?

<O5-6The Singularity places two standardized complaint forms on the table and smiles politely.>

[A 14 minute segment of Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna filing numerous complaints has been cut due to the Secrets, Confidentiality, Privacy policy of 2008.]

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-1-2: Excerpt regarding the underveil Antarctica political situation

INTELLIGENCE ANALYSIS ON THE ANOMALOUS GEOPOLITICAL SITUATION OF ANTARCTICA
by the Department of Intelligence & Surveillance

[…]

Due to Antarctica's rough winters and lack of population, many groups of interest have underground storages, safehouses and outposts that are well concealed underground or under mountains. As part of Operation ████████, it was discovered that there are roughly 100-120 subveil-made structures of human origin, and around 70-100 structures of inhuman origin located in Antarctica.

Skirmishes are a common phenomenon throughout the Antarctic winter, with an estimated 15-20 incidents per winter. These are typically the result of securing supplies, commandeering valuable anomalies, materials or substances or simply for territorial control. The Foundation sites are advised to only defend sites, unless the chain of supply has been broken, in which case it is permitted under the Right to Survive Act of 1988 to engage isolated sites suspected of containing supplies. However, the Foundation's identity must never be revealed during these operations.

^{Area colloquially known as "The Field of War" due to 3 underground structures respectively controlled by the Global Occult Coalition, the Chaos Insurgency and the Church of the Broken God. Allegedly these sites serve as divine ice mines with tunnels connecting the sites.}

Addendum 9070-1-3: Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna's arrival to Antarctica

14 HOURS AND 43 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Dr. Wrenna was given a prototype surveillance drone to document their mission. Its sound and appearance are concealed by an experimental antimemetic Weisschild's Radius which causes observers to be unable to hear or see the drone, though in trials the drone has still managed to cause symptoms of exposure to loud, persistent noise in nearby personnel and test subjects. Due to still being a physical object, its software automatically navigates it around obstacles and will follow Sgt. Vestergaard or Dr. Wrenna, prioritizing Dr. Wrenna when possible.

Due to the Antarctic winter, it is presumed that a lot of facilities or groups are incapable of reaching SCP-9070-Alpha, Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna were dispatched without reinforcements. In addition, because of the time sensitive aspect of securing Alpha, the two aforementioned were flown to Antarctica in a prototype transport jet with a single pilot.

Rafael_Mariano_Grossi%2C_IAEA_Director-General%2C_travels_to_Antarctica_on_6_January_2024_-_11.jpg

^{Picture taken from Dr. Wrenna's phone.}

FOREWORD: Due to strong winds, some parts of the recording are unintelligible. The automatic logging AI transcribing the image and sound captured has been flagged due to suboptimal performance and will be debugged further.

<BEGIN LOG>

<Dr. Wrenna is looking into the lens of the drone. He is rapidly descending at terminal velocity. He has Sgt. Vestergaard's backpack on his front and his own on his back. Sgt. Vestergaard can be seen behind Dr. Wrenna falling headfirst at terminal velocity as well, completely unclothed.>

Dr. Wrenna: Hello? This is Dr. [Wrenna] falling [unintelligible] reporting in as [part of?] the mission statement!

Sgt. Vestgaard: What!?

Dr. Wrenna: Oh, I'm [talking?] to the drone! Six requested that we [immediately] activate it when we were ejected from the plane!

Sgt. Vestergaard: I think [she'd?] accept you waiting [until] we hit the ground!

<Dr. Wrenna shrugs and toggles the drone's antimemetic barrier and flight mode on. It takes off from Dr. Wrenna's hands and flies a bit out, Dr. Wrenna seems to lose focus on the drone but continues talking to it.>

Dr. Wrenna: Operation to [instigate] and [liberate?] SCP-9070-Alpha has begun!

Sgt. Vestergaard: [Approximately] 30 seconds until we [sand?]! I'll be out of [redaction?] for a few minutes!

Dr. Wrenna: Oh! Right! Thorstein's [Anne Molly?] allows him to resurrect upon death and return to [freak?] health after a bit of time! While I simply invalidate damaging [horses?] I'm subject to! That's why I'm carrying his [frag bang?] on me!

<Dr. Wrenna points to the backpack on his front, then gestures a thumbs up in the general direction of the drone.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Alright! 15 seconds until impact! Hope [es see pee?] 9 [cows and?] didn't disable my anomaly for good!

Dr. Wrenna: I don't [hare?] if so! Just come back, no matter what!

Sgt. Vestergaard: I'll try!

<Sgt. Vestergaard holds up his index and middle finger. Two seconds after, he impacts the ground headfirst and emits a loud series of cracks and blood spatter. His legs are forced into his waist, his hips are forced further into his torso and his head is forced into his torso. Sgt. Vestergaard's internal organs are seemingly pushed out through his mouth into the snow beneath, contributing to the large pool of blood that reaches approximately 3.3m in radius from the point of impact. All of Sgt. Vestergaard's ribs have been forced out of his chest and both his femurs stick out from the skin. Both of his arms are broken in a combined 13 fractures. His left foot twitches thrice. Dr. Wrenna lands safely with his anomaly cancelling out the sudden impact.>

Dr. Wrenna: Alright, with Thorstein out of the picture, here's the plan. We go to Goldpoint, "take care" of the Coalition operatives so they don't get in our way, pin it on the suspected Broken Church presence and then we slither out towards Alpha.

<Dr. Wrenna wipes a bit of Sgt. Vestergaard's bone marrow off his shoulder.>

Dr. Wrenna: Now that we've landed, I'll wait for Thorstein to regenerate and get dressed. Please log this as an excerpt, good drone!

[COMMAND RECEIVED. UPLOADING LOG, RECORDING WILL CONTINUE.]

<End Log>

Addendum 9070-1-4: Presumed Global Occult Coalition meeting between operatives, Goldpoint Refuge¹², Monitored Conversation

8 HOURS AND 37 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

After the accelerated tensions and capabilities of various Groups of Interest since the Cold War, the Foundation has invested heavily in surveillance equipment as part of Operation Spotlight which was spear-headed by the previous O5-5The Shadow. Due to this effort, the Foundation has access to a collection of relevant transcripts recorded by hidden surveillance technology placed under the aforementioned operation.

FOREWORD: Conversation picked up by surveillance equipment outside Goldpoint, Antarctica. Individuals' identities are unknown, but due to assumed Coalition presence within Goldpoint Refuge, Foundation intelligence has labelled the two individuals, henceforth known as GOC-1 and GOC-2 within this documentation, with a 92% certainty of being Coalition operatives.

<BEGIN LOG>

<Footsteps in the snow can be heard approaching the surveillance device.>

GOC-1: [Unintelligible] —which means that Foundation is probably arriving soon.

GOC-2: Why the hell are we holding our meeting outside in the Antarctic winter? Why don't we just whisper to each other somewhere my hair won't freeze off?

GOC-1: Look, I'm not fucking around with these MC&D guys. They get hired guns from everywhere that can kill you more than once. Hell, heard that a guy last winter-over got turned into the goddamn lobby centerpiece in another Refuge.

GOC-2: Wh—… why is it always us they send on this shit¹³.

<The sound of clothes ruffling is picked up.>

GOC-1: Right, anyways. I slid that USB into the station's security, broadcast should be going straight to Command. I haven't received anything about actionable intel, so I guess we're on standby.

GOC-2: As expected… what do we know about underveil movements?

GOC-1: Well, Command suspects MC&D and Church of the Broken God, and if we add in the suspected Foundation forces…

GOC-2: Jesus, dude. We're like two people against the world.

GOC-1: Yeah, and that's why we're going somewhere remote to hold this meeting. They don't need to know that.

GOC-2: What about guns, you know, in case a fight breaks out?

GOC-1: … We got our sidearms.

GOC-2: … Yeah. I'm going to call Bruxelles and get us out.

GOC-1: Yeah, good luck with that. They're occupied with Rome and Senegal. They don't have time for your whining.

<GOC-1 and GOC-2 starts moving away from the surveillance device.>

GOC-2: You just clean those halls, I'll take care of— [Unintelligible]

<END LOG>

NOTES: It is assumed that the Global Occult Coalition has deprioritized SCP-9070-Alpha due to a lack of manpower at Goldpoint Refuge. Junior Researcher Jane Villier has been commended for the tactical placement of surveillance equipment in "the most suspicious spot she could find near the refuge". O5-5The Shadow has dispatched personnel to set up surveillance in Rome and Dakar.

Addendum 9070-1-5: Excerpt from Sgt. Vestergaard's Journal from the Internal Affairs archive

[NOTE: Translated from Danish.]

I always come back there. I stand in front of that beautiful tree. I think it's an ash.

I'm fairly certain there's nine shadows that watch me. They don't say anything, they just look at me.

The time I'm there depends on how bad off I am. But it always feels like moments. Then, the little shape notices me. It isn't taller than my shin.

It always feels patient. No matter what I do, they watch me and understand. The smallest shape especially. It moves with such calm grace. Almost like it tries not to frighten me. I always scream at it. Why does it keep giving me this gift? I've broken the pact a thousand times, and will for another million times. And every time, they understand.

I cannot see their faces. But I can always see their cheeks gently curve upwards. They always smile like one would to a son or daughter.

They don't even care that I refuse to return it.

The small shadow extends out a branch to me, and I reach for it. I have no choice, my hand seems possessed. I fight it every time, so that I may linger and rest. The covenant refuses such notions.

When I touch that gift, I simply wake up.

I always feel so, so cold when I do.

Addendum 9070-1-6: Arrival at Goldpoint Refuge

17 HOURS AND 58 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna travelled from their infiltration point to Goldpoint Refuge on foot. They were engaged thrice with hostile intent during their travel, though the engagements are not noteworthy.

<BEGIN LOG>

[AUTOMATIC LOGGING PROCEDURE ACTIVATED. TRIGGER: APPROACHING STRUCTURE.]

Dr. Wrenna: -utter nonsense. It's honestly vile that they had us study pop science magazines.

[NOTE: No information regarding the scar described by the transcribing artificial intelligence could be found, this has been flagged for review by Sgt. Vestergaard's direct superior.]

Dr. Wrenna: You're not usually the type to be worried. What could possibly worry you after, what, three centuries?

<Sgt. Vestergaard lets out an amused huff.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Always feel something staring, hm, daggers into my back at these spots. It feels so- faux- to pretend that you don't want to pull a gun on someone.

Dr. Wrenna: There can't be that many people here. Only the prosperous or the service would be here.

<Sgt. Vestergaard looks at Wrenna with a raised eyebrow.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Didn't think I'd have to tell you that there's only two ways to get rich under the anomalous wor-

Dr. Wrenna: I do recall, what was it? 'Only the powerful or those under them are rich in this world', was it?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Good. Then hopefully you've understood the rule of "don't underestimate the bourgeoisie de magnifique" thoroughly.

<Dr. Wrenna sighs and removes his firearm from its holster, a Colt Commander. He ejects the magazine to inspect its contents, and checks the barrel of the pistol. He holsters it after this procedure.>

Dr. Wrenna: Alright, fine, fine. It's, uh, impressed upon me. But like, surely it can't be that dangerous.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Well, you'd be right, but we are planning on some constructional changes to some Coalition operatives' torsos. Then, it becomes dangerous. MC&D knows how to handle me rather well, and they'll probably figure you out too the moment you run out of bullets.

<Sgt. Vestergaard inspects his own sidearm, a H&K USP. He repeats the same procedure as Dr. Wrenna, though roughly twice as fast.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Alright, we're going in. Don't reach for your gun unless I do, and you know. Do exactly as I say. They may literally believe in the customer always being right, but the moment you stop being a customer, they have an, well, alternative approach to service.

Dr. Wrenna: Well, I suppose I better have you get your spotlight so you can shut up for a bit. Fine.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Pft, good. I'll try not to let it get to my head.

<Sgt. Vestergaard flashes Dr. Wrenna a smile before he turns around and walks towards a trapdoor in the distance. Dr. Wrenna scowls towards Sgt. Vestergaard and follows from a distance.>

[1 MINUTE AND 22 SECONDS CUT FOR BREVITY.]

<Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna approach the trapdoor. Sgt. Vestergaard crouches down and taps the entrance with his gloved knuckles, then he stands up and takes a few steps back. He raises his arms and nods to Dr. Wrenna, who does the same.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Stay calm.

Dr. Wrenna: Wai- huh?

<A second later, 3 two-floor lifts rapidly ascend out of the ground in front of Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna, on the other side of the trapdoor. Three individuals in thick winter coats, high-cut combat helmets and sunglasses become visible, each aiming a Marshall AR-S4¹⁴ at Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna, the latter of which seem clearly stressed.>

Dr. Wrenna: [Whispering] Thorstein…?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Good day, gentlemen! Fucked weather we're having, no? Sorry for calling you out in the cold!

[Individuals are assigned temporary codenames until identities are learned: MCD-1, MCD-2 and MCD-3.]

MCD-1: Thorstein Vestergaard, you are not welcome in any Sanctionné Refuge areas, turn around and leave immediately!

Sgt. Vestergaard: Ah, problems with the security, friends? Rats scurrying around the site?

MCD-1: Vacate the premises or we are permitted to use lethal force, Thorstein Vestergaard!

Dr. Wrenna: I don't think-

Sgt. Vestergaard: Please, let's not be in a rush! No need for guns.

MCD-1: This is your final warning, leave or we will shoot!

Sgt. Vestergaard: Alright! Alright. Check my pocket!

MCD-1: What?

<Sgt. Vestergaard slowly unzips his coat and exposes his right pant pocket. A black card with gilded edges and corners is visible.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: May I reach for my pocket?

<MCD-1 and MCD-3 exchange glances. MCD-2 whispers something into a microphone. Shortly after, MCD-2 lowers her assault rifle and approaches carefully. As she enters the effective range of the drone, her identity is being searched in the database.>

[MCD-2 IDENTIFIED. ANDRÉE FOURNIER. 83% CERTAINTY OF WEST EUROPEAN ETHNICITY. TRANSMITTING NAME AND VITAL DETAILS TO SGT. VESTERGAARD.]

<Sgt. Vestergaard winces, presumably due to the information being spoken into his earpiece. He maintains a smile as Fournier approaches. While Fournier reaches for the exposed card in Sgt. Vestergaard's pocket, Sgt. Vestergaard winks to Fournier. She scoffs, retrieves the card and walks backwards while facing Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna. MCD-1 and Fournier engage in a hushed conversation, concluding with Fournier going to the lift she first emerged from and descending below.>

Dr. Wrenna: Why the actual hell did you- like you're- why did you not tell me you were banned from refuges!?

<Sgt. Vestergaard lets out an amused huff.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Because it wasn't going to be a problem, obviously.

Dr. Wrenna: Wha- that's absurd, the Foundation doesn't have ANY documented successful appeals for overturning refuge bans!

Sgt. Vestergaard: Yeah, well. Good thing I'm not wholly Foundation, eh?

<Sgt. Vestergaard winks to Dr. Wrenna and offers a smile to MCD-1 and MCD-3. None of them return it.>

MCD-3: [Smartass?].

<Sgt. Vestergaard smiles even wider.>

[2 MINUTES AND 4 SECONDS CUT FOR BREVITY.]

<Fournier emerges from the two-floor lift again.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Well?

Fournier: Your card's expired.

Sgt. Vestergaard: H-Hm.

Fournier: It also belongs to… Mr. Carter?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Mhm…?

<Sgt. Vestergaard waggles his eyebrows. Dr. Wrenna appears to mouth "what the fuck" and glances to Sgt. Vestergaard.>

Fournier: Le Maître du Château would like to speak with you regarding your possession of the identification card.

<Sgt. Vestergaard grins to Dr. Wrenna who alternates a confused look between Sgt. Vestergaard and Fournier.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Why, it'd be my- as well as Dr. Wrenna's- honor to accept an audience with Le Maître! May we enter your refuge?

Fournier: Discard your firearms and step upon the lift. We will secure them for you.

<Sgt. Vestergaard smiles widely, slowly draws his pistol and tosses it over his shoulder. Dr. Wrenna does the same, though simply lowers himself and places it on the snow beneath. MCD-1 scowls to Sgt. Vestergaard and goes to retrieve their firearms while Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna step onto the lift.>

Dr. Wrenna: How did- where do I even beg-

Sgt. Vestergaard: We're on duty, quit gawking, man.

<Dr. Wrenna shakes his head and lets out an exasperated sigh. The drone manages to fit onto the lift and descends downwards with the pair.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Can't believe that actually worked.

Dr. Wrenna: I'm- eh- yeah, man. Me neither.

<Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna emerge into a lobby. The interior is mainly mahogany plank floor, beige walls and a dark marble ceiling. Every edge and corner of the interior is outlined by gold leaf trimming, even the tabletops' edges and chair cushions are framed in filigree. The lift gently docks at the top of a staircase which is followed by a red carpet that runs all the way to the reception desk. A woman stands in front of the desk, wearing a black blazer and pencil skirt, as well as a purple shirt and a gold-colored tie. She smiles politely at Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Jøses Kristus, how the hell did you manage to get all of this into the southernmost continent!

<Dr. Wrenna has an expression upon his expression. He walks over to a round table and runs a hand over the gilded detailing.>

Dr. Wrenna: It's smooth but…

<Dr. Wrenna rubs his hand over the same spot repeatedly.>

Dr. Wrenna: It feels rough?

[INDIVIDUAL IDENTIFIED. NAME IS UNKNOWN, ASSIGNING MCD-4 CODENAME.]

MCD-4: That'd be an alloy we call trickgold. When interior design needs to be exquisite, stylish and environmentally responsible, we commission aspiring alchemists to synthesize materials out of plastic, carbon dioxide, leaves and a little bit of silver.

<MCD-4 approaches the two and extends her hand. She smiles widely. Dr. Wrenna scoffs dismissively, which seems to prompt Sgt. Vestergaard to shake MCD-4's hand.>

Dr. Wrenna: And you assume that this invalidates the wyrdoil spills of 2019?

MCD-4: Oh goodness, that was a tragedy. Though, I wasn't aware of any Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd. involvement?

<Dr. Wrenna rolls his eyes.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Thorstein, what do I call you?

MCD-4: Call me Test Six, personal assistant to Monsieur Vavar. May I get you some drinks for the audience, gentlemen?

[IDENTITY UPDATED FOR MCD-4. 'TEST SIX' ASSIGNED AS NEW CODENAME.]

Dr. Wrenna: Yeah, uh-huh. Nice try, we both know a Pepsi costs a limb here.

Test Six: Oh, worry not. A treat from Le Maître du Château, I hear his guests are pampered with benefits.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Bottle of schnapps, please. Marskin ryyppy.

Dr. Wrenna: … Water, please.

Test Six: Would you like a squeezed lemon in your water? It is, of course, from the cleanest of sources Antarctica has to offer.

<Dr. Wrenna squints.>

Dr. Wrenna: Oh, huh. Sure. Thanks.

Test Six: I'll get that for you. The fine security will bring you to Monsieur Vavar's office, please feel free to enter and I shall arrive with your beverages soon.

Dr. Wrenna: [Whispering] Do you know this Vavar?

Sgt. Vestergaard: [Whispering] I don't think so. I'm betting on him knowing the importance of a membership card belonging to one of their founders, however.

Dr. Wrenna: [Whispering] What makes you so confident he won't make us disappear?

Sgt. Vestergaard: [Whispering] Pffh, I got you to block bullets and a knife in my belt. We'll be fine.

<Dr. Wrenna twitches an eye. The group turns down a hallway marked as Personnel Only by a golden plaque. There are seven doors in the hallway, three on each side and one at the end with a sign marking it as the Refuge Manager's office. Fournier rasps her knuckles against the door twice, and opens it. She gestures Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna to enter as she does so. As Sgt. Vestergaard passes by Fournier on his way in, he whispers something inaudible to her, seemingly causing her to express surprised annoyance. Sgt. Vestergaard turns his head to wink at her before looking ahead. The drone passes by Fournier to enter the office, catching a mutter.>

Fournier: [Whispering] Petit con.

<Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna enter the office and the door is closed behind them by Fournier. The office's floor is a soft rug with a checkered pattern with two similar but subtle shades of black, mahogony wooden walls with indents that each have a mirror that covers the full section. The ceiling is completely covered in puffy, red velvet. In the back of the room a man is seated behind a mahogany desk.>

[INDIVIDUAL IDENTIFIED. NAME IS PRESUMED TO BE VAVAR BASED ON PRIOR OBSERVATION. ASSIGNING AS CODENAME.]

<Sgt. Vestergaard clears his throat and moves two steps closer to the desk.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: You must be-

<Sgt. Vestergaard is shot through the head with Vavar's Colt Anaconda.>

Dr. Wrenna: Wh- fuck me!

Vavar: Now we wait.

<Sgt. Vestergaard collapses on the spot with a groan.>

Dr. Wrenna: Okay?!

Vavar: Wrenna, I assume?

<Dr. Wrenna gestures in excessive confusion.>

Dr. Wrenna: How—, like-, how are you going- isn't that going to stain the carpet?

Vavar: If this man is who I assume he is, the carpet being stained is well worth it. Otherwise, well, gives something for the maintenance crew to do. It's been a slow week.

<Vavar nudges Sgt. Vestergaard's foot with his own.>

Vavar: I'm starting to think it isn't. He is supposed to be up in…

<Vavar looks at his gold watch for two seconds.>

Vavar: … Now.

<Both Vavar and Dr. Wrenna look down at Sgt. Vestergaard's corpse, which retains a blank expression. Notably, there is still a gunshot wound above his right eyebrow.>

Vavar: Huh. I think I might've killed your friend under mistaken circumstances. That's… actually pretty bad.

<Vavar scratches the back of his head with his Colt Anaconda. Dr. Wrenna waves dismissively.>

Dr. Wrenna: No, no, he'll, uh, he'll do his thing in like, a few minutes.

Vavar: Minutes? What? The old guard said he'd get shot and regenerate in seconds. Don't you challenge your people properly at the Foundation or something?

<Dr. Wrenna shrugs.>

Dr. Wrenna: We, like, research anomalies as a primary thing. Besides, it's always taken him minutes.

Vavar: Huh. Curious. Well, have a seat, Wrenna. Might as well start without the pile of disappointment over there.

Vavar: Now, Wrenna. To what do I owe you two the pleasure of a visit?

<Dr. Wrenna shuffles uncomfortably in his seat. He is seemingly in thought. Vavar lowers his head a bit to see Dr. Wrenna's expression.>

[HESITATION IN VITAL DIPLOMATIC INCIDENT RECORDED. TRANSFERRING MISSION BRIEF TO DR. WRENNA.]

<Dr. Wrenna grimaces and shakes his head. His features become more neutral.>

Dr. Wrenna: We believe that your establishment has been infiltrated by the Global Occult Coalition.

<Vavar leans back and cants his head backwards. His mouth is slightly agape, making his seven golden teeth visible.>

Dr. Wrenna: We'd like to help you.

Vavar: How… Curious. And your Foundation is doing this out of the kindness of your hearts?

Dr. Wrenna: No, uhh.

<Dr. Wrenna glances off in consideration. His attention snaps back to Vavar.>

Dr. Wrenna: No, what we want from you is Marshall, Carter and Dark keeping their distance from a certain area that has relation to the… recent incident.

<Vavar smiles and a golden tooth reflects some light into the lens of the drone.>

Vavar: Oh, good friend, valued friend. You're going to be a bit more specific…

<Dr. Wrenna raises an eyebrow and unzips his wintercoat. He removes a document from an inner pocket.>

Dr. Wrenna: I'm rather certain you know what I'm speaking of.

Vavar: Oh, I am? Perhaps you'd be willing to remind me in the… invocative way?

Dr. Wrenna: In th-… hm.

<Dr. Wrenna seems to glance at Vavar's eight golden rings that spell out MC&D LTD$. Dr. Wrenna slowly nods.>

Dr. Wrenna: You mean— hm.

<Dr. Wrenna looks past Vavar, there is an oil painting of the latter subject. Dr. Wrenna widens his eyes and seems to gain a confident grin. Test Six enters the room with a tray that holds a bottle of schnapps and a glass of water. She approaches Sgt. Vestergaard's corpse and places down the bottle and a shot glass next to his bloody and pale head. She approaches the desk and places down the glass of water. Dr. Wrenna glances down to the slice of lemon on the side of the glass. He slowly grins.>

Dr. Wrenna: I can synthesize you real gold instead of the knock-off shit you've plastered across the furniture.

<Vavar frowns. He tilts his head to the other side.>

Vavar: Curious. But we all know it's a fool's endeavor. There's a good reason why the company I represent hasn't taken over the world yet.

Dr. Wrenna: Quite indeed; you're not me.

<END LOG>

Document 2: Beta Pillar

My studies have proven… difficult. I stumbled across a wisewoman on the coast while sailing south. She was blind, her eyes a shade of marble from back home. I asked her how one in her weakened state could survive in a land of beasts.

She smiled at me and spoke with kindness and patience: "My husbands have sight! They have strength. They have willpower."

I looked around and found no traces of any men near. It was but her and her tent. I paid it no mind, perhaps she had brought her husbands forth from dreams to stave off solitude.

I inquired if she wielded magical arts, to which she merely shook her head. Though, she did insist that she was warded by those who wielded it.

I was rather puzzled, I asked if she was a servant. No, she made shields and spears. She offered them in return for protection. I asked what would happen if she stopped, to which she'd suppose she'd perish.

A foolish woman I thought, one who would believe that she was no servant, yet was forced to make shields and spears for her safety. I asked if she would want to travel with me, to reach safer places beneath my protection. No, she said. So I left inland, securing my ship near her tent.

When I returned with tomes bought from a grand library below ground three weeks later, I found the woman no longer. A crater had overtaken her encampment.

This experience has left me bitter. It is a reminder that those in power will wield that power the moment that their authority is challenged. I am starting to doubt whether there is a diplomatic resolution to this. Are we simply meant to be crushed like ants? I dare not ponder it. My journey will continue.

-Contranumen

Addendum 9070-2-1: Global Occult Coalition PHYSICS Division assessment team meeting in Dakar, Senegal regarding SCP-9070-Beta

1 DAY, 15 HOURS AND 21 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

FOREWORD: Conversation recorded in known Global Occult Coalition safehouse in the commune d'arrondissement Ngor in Dakar, Senegal. Individuals present are assumed to be of the PHYSICS Division studying SCP-9070-Gamma. Individuals are assigned observed codenames as monikers. Transcript details information captured by a hidden camera which was narrowly avoided during surveillance inspection by the present GOC operatives.

<BEGIN LOG>

Speaker: (Vocalization.)

<"Alabaster", an elderly male. He is wearing a lab coat, a turtleneck sweater and cargo pants as well as suspected paratech gloves. His lab coat and sweater sleeves are rolled up, revealing tattoos with an exposed mermaid on one arm and an exposed siren on the other.>

Alabaster: This is forward team Jacker-Smith reporting in. We have an update regarding the threat in Dakar.

Speaker: (Vocalization.)

Alabaster: I'm convinced it's more than that, Gloria. These pillars seem to act like reality anchors that are exponentionally intensifying when in the presence of metanormal effects. They are still in the very low values of compounding, but they will reach an exploding velocity at some point if they maintain contact with something not of this world.

Speaker: (Vocalization.)

<"September", a middle-aged woman, is wearing blue overalls, a white cotton shirt, a large brim straw hat and a monocle. She notably has a portion of the left side of her face, between her temple, ear, jaw and mouth covered in burn scar tissue.>

September: It is the same case as in India, yes. In fact, with the… "liberated" Hume detectors acquired from a Foundation research time, we can sense that the hume levels here are close to, if not the same as the pillar in Telangana.

Speaker: (Vocalization.)

Pangaea: Correct. It does appear to be a curse. Which would make it quite… resiliente to dispel. As it stands we only have a vague understanding of the person who cast the curse. And if I must be honest, this is a curse of mythological size. I can't think of how one would forcefully dismantle it.

Speaker: (Vocalization.)

Pangaea: That's quite possible.

September: So if the idiot who cast this curse is dead a few two thousand years ago, it's going to be quite hard to understand it.

Speaker: (Vocalization.)

Alabaster: Yes. I believe that it is possible that these pillars can globally terminate anomalies.

<There is once more a lull in the conversation. September silently gestures in a cheerful manner while Pangaea blinks in a shocked manner and rubs her eyebrows.>

Speaker: (Vocalization.)

<The speaker turns off and a few seconds after, it starts emitting sparks and smoke. September starts laughing cheerily while Alabaster and Pangaea remains quiet.>

<END LOG>

NOTE: The obtained information has been directly forwarded to the O5 Council and the Administrator. Disruption Class of SCP-9070 is undergoing standard deliberation process for being upgraded to Amida¹⁶.

Addendum 9070-2-2: Emergency O5 Council meeting regarding GOC intelligence

1 DAY, 23 HOURS AND 19 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

FOREWORD: Following the report outlined in the previous addendum, O5-6The Singularity started a recording through implanted technology with as many members of the Overseer Council as could be gathered.

<BEGIN LOG>

<O5-5The Shadow, O5-6The Singularity, O5-10The Summoner and O5-13The Analyst are sitting in O5-10The Summoner's living room in her private residence in Manhattan, New York City. O5-2The Lieutenant and O5-11The Butcher are participating via encrypted audio transmission.>

O5-2The Lieutenant: Thirteen, are we certain that the Coalition's findings can be verified?

O5-13The Analyst: I have Thaumaturgy and Countercursing from Site-03 working on the task. I'm also checking with our contacts within the Coalition itself.

<O5-10The Summoner jumps onto the table and sits down in front of speaker that O5-2The Lieutenant and O5-11The Butcher are participating through.>

O5-10The Summoner: Contacts within the Wanderer's Library have stated rumors regarding the same. Serpent's Hand cells in Antarctica, Senegal, India, Brazil and Italy have deployed investigative efforts. It'd seem that our immortal of former Carter loyalties has secured Antarctica, however. We will know more if the Hand reaches one of the pillars.

O5-5The Shadow: If they manage to get through the Coalition, that is.

O5-11The Butcher: If conflict breaks out we'll have quite the opportunity.

O5-5The Shadow: The Hand may be brave but they also have smarts. I doubt most of them would seek open conflict with the Coalition for the pillars.

O5-2The Lieutenant: Most, no. But all it takes is one. They act out of good intentions, they're an emotional bunch.

<The conversation falls silent for 3 seconds.>

O5-10The Summoner: I'd have to agree with Two.

O5-11The Butcher: Well, surely we should be at the ready with— something— then.

O5-6The Singularity: I do not think that compounding violence with opportunistic ambushes is what we want. We're the ones who'll have to clean up the mess, after all; something we're currently wholly incapable of given our containment efforts.

O5-5The Shadow: We may not have resources, but I do agree that this is something we simply cannot relent on, Six.

O5-10The Summoner: Perhaps a— tempered move could be argued? What does our intelligence say regarding Coalition efforts, Five?

O5-5The Shadow: It'd seem that they're focusing on Rome, Senegal and India, though from what Intelligence theorizes, the primary focus is Rome? They seem otherwise fairly confident regarding Dakar and India, leading them to deploy a fragment of personnel to those two, in comparison to Rome at the very least.

O5-6The Singularity: I have personnel on the ground in Antarctica. It'd seem our little immortal is using his Carter ties…

O5-11The Butcher: We're certain of his loyalties?

O5-5The Shadow: We're certain that he's more loyal to us than he is to Carter.

O5-11The Butcher: Good enough, I suppose.

O5-13The Analyst: It'd be in my interests to see personnel in India and Senegal. Do we have anyone free?

O5-6The Singularity: Four has reported in, but was quite busy at the time. He has his personal bodyguards of Red Right Hand rejects, which means—

O5-2The Lieutenant: They're combat ready and dangerous enough to operate on their own. Especially with Four there.

O5-6The Singularity: Indeed.

O5-2The Lieutenant: Then we send them to Senegal.

O5-10The Summoner: And what, pray tell, of India?

<O5-6The Singularity takes a deep breath.>

O5-2The Lieutenant: O5-1The Anomaly is enroute.

<The room falls quiet for 5 seconds. O5-11The Butcher shifts uncomfortably. O5-10The Summoner uses her hind paw to scratch her ear in contemplation.>

O5-5The Shadow: … Then we're left with Amazon and Rome. It is my suggestion that we let Rome develop by itself and send the first available forces to Brazil.

O5-2The Lieutenant: Sounds good to me. Anyone in disagreement?

<The conversation is silent for 4 seconds.>

O5-2The Lieutenant: Good. Let's get back to work, we're still under operative capacity.

<O5-2The Lieutenant disconnects from the call.>

O5-6The Singularity: Do you think—

O5-11The Butcher: Keep me out of whatever you're about to say, I'm not interested in questioning him in any capacity.

<O5-11The Butcher disconnects from the call. The call terminates.>

O5-10The Summoner: I don't know, Six. I don't know.

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-2-3: Incident regarding SCP-███ outside Tianjin, China

2 DAYS, 3 HOURS AND 1 MINUTE AFTER SCP-9070

Following a containment breach from Site-93, several entities known for human predation roamed the outskirts of Tianjin. The Foundation had only secured an estimated 23.4% of escaped anomalies with a risk class of Warning¹⁷ and 67.3% of escaped anomalies with a risk class of Danger¹⁸. The only 2 anomalies formerly held in Site-93 with a risk class of Critical¹⁹ remain uncontained.

FOREWORD: Officer Liu of the Tianjin Police was dispatched to investigate a complaint regarding a 5-8 years old girl wandering a dirt road. Footage recorded from the patrol car's camera. Transcript translated from Mandarin.

<BEGIN LOG>

<Sergeant Liu picks up the radio's microphone. He glances around the sides of the road while he speaks.>

Sgt. Liu: This is Liu. Not seeing anything here, checked five times. Want me to call it off?

<3 seconds pass. Liu picks up his vape with his other hand and takes a deep inhalation from it. Supervisor Third Class Weii responds.>

Sup. Weii: Afraid not, too many disappearances lately. Deputy wants this solved, over.

<Sgt. Liu takes a deep breath and sighs before responding.>

Sgt. Liu: Understood. Over.

<Sgt. Liu inhales sharply and puts the microphone back on the radio. He rolls the window down and points his flashlight out of the window.>

Sgt. Liu: Hello?! Anyone out there? Little girl?! My name is Xiángzhuu, what's your name?!

<Silence for 4 seconds.>

Sgt. Liu: Urgh. What the hell.

<Sgt. Liu sighs and turns off the flashlight. He turns the car around and starts driving back towards the city.>

<A girl is lit up by the headlights.>

500px-Life_and_light_for_woman_%281873%29_%2814595723959%29.jpg

^{Photograph of SCP-███, taken in 1873.}

Sgt. Liu: Cào!

<Sgt. Liu brakes the patrol vehicle harshly, bringing the car to a halt 2 meters from SCP-███.>

Sgt. Liu: My poor heart! You cannot just stand in the middle of the road, young lady!

<Sgt. Liu takes a sharp breath and adjusts his uniform before he opens his door. He steps outside with his flashlight which he points at SCP-███. It doesn't flinch.>

Sgt. Liu: Now, what are you looking for out here, mh? You're not going to find a lot of candies in the rice!

<Sgt. Liu turns off his flashlight and lowers himself down to SCP-███'s height.>

Sgt. Liu: Where do you live, little friend? Have you gotten yourself lost?

SCP-███: … A foolish man.

Sgt. Liu: Don't be scared! I'm here to help.

SCP-███: … He will know of the mo.

Sgt. Liu: Would you not like a ride in a police car?

<Sgt. Liu tilts his head and remains quiet for a while. SCP-███ doesn't blink.>

Sgt. Liu: You can sit in the front!

<SCP-███ slowly starts raising her hands, palms facing upwards.>

Sgt. Liu: That's it. Your mother must be worried as hell!

<Sgt. Liu places both of his hands in SCP-███'s.>

SCP-███: Someone's mother will surely be worried.

<SCP-███ rips Sgt. Liu's arms off.>

<Sgt. Liu blinks in a confused manner. He starts stuttering in panic. Blood paints the road like epoxy.>

<Sgt. Liu falls backwards and starts screaming, missing both of his arms from the shoulders. His speech becomes incoherent as he starts begging.>

<SCP-███ watches Sgt. Liu.>

SCP-███: Your hands will build my mountain to Heaven.

SCP-███: A much better use.

<Sgt. Liu hyperventilates while crying. He sobs a few indecipherable words out as he lies on the road.>

<SCP-███ raises Sgt. Liu's arms over its shoulders, and adds them to the wing-like appendages on its back. They attach.>

<SCP-███ crouches down and jumps into the air. It flies away with its arm-wings.>

<Sgt. Liu prays until he expires from blood loss.>

<END LOG>

AFTERWORD: Sgt. Liu was found the following morning by MTF agents as part of the containment efforts following Sgt. Liu being reported missing. His arms could not be located.

Addendum 9070-2-4 Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna's strategy meeting

2 DAYS, 17 HOURS AND 21 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

<BEGIN LOG>

Sgt. Vestergaard: You know, I'd wish that Vavar would just let me disappear those two janitors. We know it's them, they know that we know it's them. Intense staredowns as a conflict resolution is starting to get boring.

Dr. Wrenna: If you're going to be here, could you at least not dream about murder?

Sgt. Vestergaard: What else do you want me to dream about, fraud? Heists? How Jack the Ripper was some schmuck who got lucky?

Dr. Wrenna: How about you think about that for a minute or two.

<Sgt. Vestergaard squints his eyes and seems to be in deep thought. Dr. Wrenna sighs with relief and goes back to typing. He pauses, opens a drawer and retrieves an envelope. He crumbles it up into a ball and clenches his fist around it. Before his skin can become irritated by the paper, Dr. Wrenna's anomaly activates and keeps it about 1cm from his skin. He hums in consideration and forms a perfectly round orb as he keeps clenching his fist around the parchment.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Did you know I once got stabbed about a hundred times before dying? Saw my stomach just sort of fall out alongside the rest of the organs before I died from shock. London was quite wild.

<Dr. Wrenna closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He stops clenching his fist around the paper, which deactivates his anomaly. He places the crumbled, blank piece of paper on the table. A thin beam of smoke arises from it. He slowly rotates the chair around to look at Sgt. Vestergaard with a quizzical expression.>

Dr. Wrenna: Yeah— uh. That's wild, man. Reminds me of the time you said that you swear you didn't need a liver to live for a week?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Just be mindful of what you put in your body and you're good. It was mostly just a challenge for myself, really. Training my capacity for pain tolerance.

Dr. Wrenna: I don't think—

Sgt. Vestergaard: Another time I had my head cut off. I saw my body just collapse, you survive for a surprising amount of time after being decapitated.

<Dr. Wrenna squints.>

Dr. Wrenna: Could you even think?

Sgt. Vestergaard: As well as I always can! Though I did forget a few after a second or two.

Dr. Wrenna: I did not know decapitation was a persistent disability for you.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Hm?

<Dr. Wrenna clicks his tongue and shrugs.>

Dr. Wrenna: Doesn't it hurt?

Sgt. Vestergaard: What? Getting your head lopped off?

Dr. Wrenna: … Sure— something like that.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Oh, not quite. I don't really care about pain anymore. A big part of pain is just something being unexpected, once you've felt everything you start to expect just that.

Dr. Wrenna: … Yeah?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Yes. That or, well. If a limb is dislocated or a bone is actively poking into your flesh, the pain may be sustained. But you learn the breathing techniques, distractions, keeping yourself busy…

Dr. Wrenna: What about death?

<Sgt. Vestergaard goes quiet for 6 seconds. Then he sighs.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Warm.

<Dr. Wrenna blinks.>

Dr. Wrenna: Right. Uhh.

<Sgt. Vestergaard stares into the ceiling. Dr. Wrenna clicks his tongues and glances towards the door.>

Dr. Wrenna: Hey, saw Fournier pass by.

<Sgt. Vestergaard purses his lips and stands up. He walks towards the door, half-heartedly waves to Dr. Wrenna and leaves. Dr. Wrenna lets his arms fall into his lap as he slowly rotates on the chair. He seems worried.>

<Dr. Wrenna picks up the crumbled piece of paper. He eyes the beam of smoke it emits. The smoke disperses soon after, forming a barely perceptible cloud above the beam, seemingly granting Dr. Wrenna the impression of a tree.>

Dr. Wrenna: An ash tree, huh? How curious.

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-2-5: Excerpt regarding curses

Due to SCP-9070's status as a Exacratus-class anomaly, the following documentation has been provided as an introductory primer to the subject.

On Exacratus-Class Anomalies, Colloquially Known as Curses

By Prof. Aleca von Leisere, Site-03 Thaumaturgy and Countercursing Division

A trend tends to form in western society, where a lot of mythical subjects get labelled under a unifying category. Think dragons, demons and gods. A dragon is a serpentine, powerful creature, which defines many a mythical entity from the classic European, fire-spewing dragons on four legs, to Quetzalcoatl of Aztec myth. A demon is a spiritual being of malice, from a devil possessing a nun to a representation of a harsh, arid environment in the form of a predator. A god is a being above us all, from the Abrahamic God to the Norse pantheon. You will note that in a lot of these cases, there is quite considerable variation depending on the culture. This is because, in our rush to categorize the details of the world, the West has rushed to homogenize wildly different entities under understandable labels.

If you ask me, such is not the case for curses.

Wishing ill upon someone predates language, it may even predate tools. Rivalry is an established and important part of natural selection that grants the best adapted a method to continue lineage. Envy and anger have always been in our species, as well as the species we originate from. The capacity to overcome, equalize or remove our rivals is an aspect we desire in some capacity, even if friendly. I do not study the friendly aspects of rivalry.

We live in a world of anomalies, the magical is mundane to our lives. When the fantastical meets the most base expression of competition, it is infused. A curse is a situation where someone gifted with powers wishes harm on someone or something. Most of the time, these curses are minor and take the shape of spectral anomalies who, frankly, aren't worth time or resources to exorcise, but I do believe that this is a personal opinion that will get me vilified by the Department of Letumphysics.

No, the issue arises when someone with an understanding of the paranormal is born with an enchanted soul. They might notice that when they were a child, they always seemed to have an edge over another child in a contest when they felt frustration at their rival. They might realize that their parents felt sick and weak when they raised their voice at them. They may understand that by purposefully engaging in hateful thought, they can impact the world. Now these are what I live for.

Curses are notoriously hard to break, though luckily a lot of people, even those with anomalous properties, do not focus hateful energies. Once a person grows, the chances of them manifesting a curse lowers exponentially. Though, the opposite is true for those who understand and purposefully wield a curse. Skilled wielders of curses become exponentially dangerous, as resilience is a, if not the, key trait of Exacratus-class anomalies. That's why we specifically have divisions with "Countercursing" in their name.

Dispelling a curse is, paradoxically, often the complete opposite approach to casting them. In order to interface with a curse, you must almost completely understand what spawned it. The specific event, the person who cast it, the person who received it, the perceived actions, if any, that spawned the incident.

This is what we call "Empathetic Exorcism" in this unprofitable business, where one understands and untangles a curse. This isn't our only option, though. We also have my colleagues' preferred option, "Forceful Exorcism". See, directly interfacing with someone else's curse isn't one's only option, for one who can also use Exacratus-class thaumaturgy to combat the very same thing. This is why many people under the Countercursing umbrella are, themselves, fully aware of how to manifest curses.

It's a strange thing, these curses. The best way to handle an Exacratus-class thaumaturge is usually just to kill them, though this empowers any lingering curses as their soul itself is turned into fuel for the anomaly. This makes a curse hard to deal with.

So for any aspiring thaumaturges that wishes to join your site's Thaumaturgy and Countercursing Division, good luck. And for the soldiers who have to handle curses, please stop killing the caster. You make my job rather difficult, please start capturing mortals instead of slaying them?

Addendum 9070-2-6: Initial inspection of SCP-9070-Alpha

3 DAYS, 1 HOUR AND 49 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

To:
Sergeant Thorstein Vestergaard, Doctor George William Wrenna
From:
O5-6The Singularity
The agreement you've crafted is acceptable, at least given the circumstances. We will ensure that veil-maintaining preparation will be done to avoid the detection of an explosion.
You will, however, inspect Alpha. If we are to pay millions in gold for protection, I want to be certain that it is an object that can, in fact, be protected. This is non-negotiable.
The week of guaranteed safety is actionable, we will be able to land armed personnel to guard Alpha at this time. Ensure that no-one other than you and Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd. personnel are near the pillar.
Do not relent authority, no matter what.
Secure, Contain, Protect.

-O5-6The Singularity

Following the above message from O5-6The Singularity, Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna departed towards SCP-9070-Alpha alongside Fournier and Test Six. Due to an ongoing snowstorm, the group made use of a special land vehicle supplied by Marshall, Carter and Dark Ltd.

FOREWORD: Vehicle is driven by Fournier, with Test Six in the passanger seat. Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna occupy the backseat of the vehicle.

<BEGIN LOG>

<Sgt. Vestergaard's right leg hops excessively. He looks outside the window which is covered in snow.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: I swear it shouldn't be that long.

Test Six: Would you like me to turn the radio on, Mr. Vestergaard?

<Dr. Wrenna rolls his eyes.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Oh, sure. Why not.

<Test Six turns the radio on. She slowly tunes through several channels, yet she only finds static.>

Test Six: Oh, what a shame. It'd appear that the snowstorm is obfuscating any chance of entertainment. My apologies, Mr. Vestergaard.

Sgt. Vestergaard: I will survive.

Sgt. Vestergaard: So, Antarctica. Is this like a dream occupation or punishment for screwing up, these days? We sure didn't have this position back when I was around.

Fournier: It is a pleasure to work for Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd., no matter the position.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Oh? So you take pleasure in being sent to the most remote location on Earth? That's intriguing.

<Fournier sighs heavily.>

Test Six: It does come with certain advantages! We are quite permitted a freedom you wouldn't see back in the United States or France for that matter. Plenty of time to think too, though I'm starting to think I'm running out of subjects to deliberate on!

Dr. Wrenna: That's… Comforting.

Test Six: I suppose I will spend some time considering shades of red tonight.

Dr. Wrenna: … Glad to hear it. You have a favorite?

Test Six: I don't think I'm capable of having a favorite.

Sgt. Vestergaard: … Right.

<Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna exchange quizzical looks. Test Six smiles widely. Fournier frowns with worry. 23 seconds pass.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Any hobbies, Fournier?

Fournier: Driving in silence.

<Sgt. Vestergaard purses his lips and blinks.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: It's a lovely vehicle, honestly. Didn't think anything could run in this cold.

Fournier: If you keep trying to make insufferable small talk, there'll be two things nearby that can do that.

<Dr. Wrenna clicks his tongue.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: … I suppose I'll save it for later, then.

Fournier: Good.

<Sgt. Vestergaard looks to Dr. Wrenna and raises his eyebrows twice in rapid succession. Dr. Wrenna returns a bewildered look before staring ahead.>

Test Six: I do believe I can feel it. Turn 3 degrees to the left, Ms. Fournier.

Dr. Wrenna: Feel it—?

<Dr. Wrenna blinks a few times. He looks slightly to the left.>

Dr. Wrenna: How odd. I suppose I do feel a slight drop in my stomach when I look that way.

Test Six: Oh? I sense a headache rather than that. Uncomfortable, either way.

Fournier: Yeah, me too, Test.

<Fournier looks in the rearview mirror at Sgt. Vestergaard who is currently going making several grimaces in rapid succession, seemingly practicing how to make a grotesque quizzical look. She sighs.>

<The vehicle comes to a halt in the snowstorm and the group, save Test Six, inspect their firearms quietly. Test Six stares ahead with a smile.>

Fournier: Yeah, reckon we ain't going to make it long out in that shit. At least I won't, you three freaks might.

Test Six: Is freak, at least in this context, a compliment?

Fournier: Sure, princesse.

Test Six: Thank you! I will remain here, though. I am under strict orders to protect Marshall, Carter and Dark Ltd. assets.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Alright then, we'll head out.

<Dr. Wrenna eyes the rough shape of an obelisk in the distance with a frown.>

Dr. Wrenna: Maybe you ought to do it? You're a lot more experienced with scouting, and I'm not a particularly good field researcher.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Buddy, you can nullify everything that comes at you. I need your eyes, man. Mine will be attacked by the constant cold, even through these goggles. I'll also die a few times, most likely.

<Sgt. Vestergaard attempts to open the door with great effort, given the strong winds he initially fails. He looks at Fournier in the rearview mirror, who currently seems unimpressed, and inhales sharply before he slams a shoulder against the door, forcing it open. He steps outside in the powerful winter snowstorm and lets the door be closed by the wind. Dr. Wrenna simply leaves the vehicle.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: ALRIGHT. IT'S OVER THERE, RIGHT?

Dr. Wrenna: WHAT?

Sgt. Vestergaard: THE OBELISK.

Dr. Wrenna: ASTERIX AND OBELIX?!

Sgt. Vestergaard: What— NO. HOW MANY FRENCH COMICS DID YOU— THE PILLAR.

Dr. Wrenna: OH, RIGHT. THIS WAY!

<The pair starts walking towards the pillar. As they approach it, the snowstorm seems to ease, until it finally completely fades.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Well that's— strange.

Dr. Wrenna: Suppose it's an anomalous storm?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Huh, well there we go. That's a pillar alright.

Dr. Wrenna: Copper seems to be in… Bad quality. Curious.

<Sgt. Vestergaard retrieves his phone and turns it horisontally. He starts taking pictures of its every angle with a bored expression.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: You do chemistry, what falls to mind other than that?

Dr. Wrenna: Well. I'm noticing a lot of holes in the surface of the copper itself, I suppose the frost has made it prone to bursting if there's a few thin layers. It doesn't seem to have been here long though, it hasn't oxidized that much yet. Maybe the ice protects it? I'm not that well-versed on metals.

<A loud buzzing is heard. The pair seems to disregard it for now.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Right, fun, fun. Marvelous.

<Sgt. Vestergaard keeps taking pictures. He changes the camera mode and takes a picture of himself, Dr. Wrenna and SCP-9070-Alpha.>

Dr. Wrenna: It's, odd, isn't it? For some reason the world becomes normal for a few seconds and all hell breaks lose, thanks to this— stupid shape.

Sgt. Vestergaard: People have lost their minds over less.

<The buzzing increases in volume.>

Dr. Wrenna: Are you affected by the pillar?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Not… I don't think so. I can't really relate to Test and yours sensations. I suppose my anomaly is a bit too powerful to be functionally suppressed by it. Or, well—

<Sgt. Vestergaard blinks.>

Dr. Wrenna: Maybe you're just not the source of the anomaly?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Huh. Maybe.

<Sgt. Vestergaard wrinkles his nose.>

Dr. Wrenna: Man, that drone is annoying. Wish it'd shut up.

<Sgt. Vestergaard freezes (unrelated to his current environment) in place. He slowly glances to Dr. Wrenna, before looking around.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: The drone that— we can't hear is noisy?

<Dr. Wrenna ceases all movements for a second. He slowly meets Sgt. Vestergaard's glance with his own.>

Dr. Wrenna: The… drone that lets out a counter-frequency so we can't hear it is…

<Sgt. Vestergaard immediately drops his phone, draws his firearm and spins around. A rough outline of a person is visible - he aims at discharges his sidearm at the individual. Blood appears on the snow behind the person and they collapse.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Alright, eyes up! Ambush!

Dr. Wrenna: How— the hell did you sneak up on us without making noise?!

<Dr. Wrenna fidgets with his sidearm's holster and fails to retrieve his pistol. Sgt. Vestergaard shoots past Dr. Wrenna, causing blood to appear on SCP-9070-Alpha and the snow around it.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: I can't believe your stupid theory is right. Disguising themselves as mechanical sounds…

<Dr. Wrenna opens his mouth and raises his eyebrow.>

Dr. Wrenna: Fucking— Steelchain Daggers? Wait, they actually exist? Thought they—

<Sgt. Vestergaard discharges two shots into the distance, causing two pools of blood to appear.>

Dr. Wrenna: —were actually a myth. Huh.

<Dr. Wrenna retrieves his sidearm and looks around. He fails to identify any individuals.>

Dr. Wrenna: How do you—

Sgt. Vestergaard: Take a chance, man.

Dr. Wrenna: I'm not just— going to fire my gun at random!

Sgt. Vestergaard: Why not? You got three magazines.

<Sgt. Vestergaard discharges his sidearm 5 times. A single pool of blood appears. His back is slashed, causing him to curse as he stumbles ahead. He spins around and discharges the gun several times towards the presumed assailant's location, though he doesn't hit. Dr. Wrenna looks down the ironsight of his pistol and tries to locate a hostile. He doesn't seem to succeed.>

Dr. Wrenna: I can't—

Sgt. Vestergaard: George, I need you to snap out of it a bit I'm— getting overwhelmed here!

<Sgt. Vestergaard's left arm sustains a deep laceration, he becomes unable to move it. He discharges the remaining bullets from his sidearm and succeeds in hitting an individual.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Start firing!

<Dr. Wrenna inhales sharply and starts unloading his firearm's entire magazine. He succeeds in hitting a single target. He starts trying to reloading his sidearm.>

Dr. Wrenna: Thorstein I—

Sgt. Vestergaard: No time!

<Sgt. Vestergaard releases his emptied magazine onto the ground and places the pistol's grip near a magazine on his belt. A custom modification to his sidearm, a magnetic pull, pulls a new magazine into the pistol. He manages to discharge it three times.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: I don't think ther—

<Sgt. Vestergaard's chest bursts as two invisible blades are inserted into his torso and are roughly ripped out. Dr. Wrenna blinks and seems to cease all movement at this.>

Dr. Wrenna: Thor—

<Sgt. Vestergaard collapses, expiring from shock.>

Dr. Wrenna: HELLO? WHAT? DON'T DO THAT NOW.

<Dr. Wrenna slides the magazine into his firearm and looks around in slight panic. He starts discharging his firearm several times. As he empties his ammunition, he starts hyperventilating. He didn't hit anyone. He reaches for more ammunition and takes a deep breath. He presses the release to slide out the empty magazine and calmly inserts the unspent rounds into the sidearm. Dr. Wrenna starts attempting to control his breath. He inspects the area. He takes a shot at a suspected individual, causing blood to splatter out on the snow.>

Dr. Wrenna: Final—

<Dr. Wrenna's anomaly activates. His shape is outlined by a bright orange. He looks around and tries to find the assailant.>

Dr. Wrenna: Come on… Where…

<He falls silent. Nothing seems to happen. Sgt. Vestergaard bleeds upon the snow. The buzzing seems to fade. Dr. Wrenna doesn't appear to be capable of spotting anything.>

Dr. Wrenna: Where the fuck are you…?

<His anomaly triggers again. He spins around. It glows weaker. Dr. Wrenna's eyes widen.>

Dr. Wrenna: What—

<The anomaly is triggered once more. The shield fades in equal measure as earlier. Dr. Wrenna looks to the pillar with his eyes widened.>

Dr. Wrenna: Oh shit.

<The anomaly glitters weakly. Dr. Wrenna seems to do his best to focus. He doesn't find any targets.>

Dr. Wrenna: I—

<The anomaly lights up like late twilight.>

Dr. Wrenna: …

<The anomaly is barely there.>

…

<The anomaly fades.>

Dr. Wrenna: Shi—

Dr. Wrenna: What the fuck is—

<Test Six comes to a halt and stands. She looks to Dr. Wrenna. Her mouth doesn't move, and she speaks in three voices layered ontop another.>

Test Six: Ready to go?

Dr. Wrenna: Uhh— yes! We have what we need.

<Dr. Wrenna swipes Sgt. Vestergaard's phone and pockets it. He starts dragging Sgt. Vestergaard towards the vehicle as Test Six drifts around them. They approach the vehicle without more attacks. Fournier waves a hand, holding an assault rifle with the other.>

Test Six: Can you start the vehicle, Ms. Fournier?

Fournier: On it!

<Dr. Wrenna opens the door, fighting against the wind as he does. He succeeds on the third attempts and drags himself and Sgt. Vestergaard's corpse into the vehicle. Test Six, after leaving the drone's view, returns to her normal appearance and enters on the passenger's side. She folds her hands in her lap and stares straight ahead. Fournier starts the vehicle, Dr. Wrenna closes the door, and the two and a half living humanoids drives back towards Goldpoint.>

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-2-7: Excerpt regarding synthesizing gold

Creating Gold

by J. Dee, May 4th, 2019

You can create gold. It is possible.

However, you must be aware that you will unleash approximately 0.01kt per 1g of gold. That is roughly the same energy output as the largest non-nuclear explosion deployed in overveil war.

The answer to do this quite possibly simpler than you can imagine: Combining atoms. The methods for achieving this requires pure materials. That is to say, you need to measure out your atoms rather well. A task requiring management so fine that mundane science must build structures the size of cities to consistently merge two atoms.

We're not bound by such boring limitation. The first thing you need is ██ █████ █████▇▇▇▆▆▆▅▅▅▄▄▄▃▃▃▂▂▂▁▁▁

Addendum 9070-2-8: Dr. Wrenna's attempt at synthesizing gold

3 DAYS, 18 HOURS AND 33 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Following negotiations with the Goldpoint Refuge, Dr. Wrenna has been gathering ingredients to synthesize roughly $1,000,000 worth of pure gold. Due to SCP-9070's global impact, the settlement has been approved by the O5 Council.

FOREWORD: Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna are roughly 15km away from Goldpoint, where Dr. Wrenna has gathered the necessary reagents for transmutating molecular oxygen into gold. This is expected to set off an explosion equivalent to the B83 nuclear bomb.

<BEGIN LOG>

Sgt. Vestergaard: I know I've said it a lot, bu—

Dr. Wrenna: I fumbled, yes! I know! Heard it inbetween the, gods damned— taunting and bragging about what women you've slept with over the few centuries! Please!

Sgt. Vestergaard: We just had to offer him the Coalition agents.

Dr. Wrenna: Look, the fact we even had the opportunity to make an offer is a miracle in and of itself. I don't know why your standards for nonsensically small likelihoods of success are so high.

Sgt. Vestergaard: It's not likelihood if you know what you're doing.

Dr. Wrenna: Whatever, old man. Can you focus on getting to safety so I can begin the transmutation?

<Sgt. Vestergaard waves dismissively and turns around. He departs for Goldpoint.>

[IMMINENT THREAT DETECTED. FOLLOWING SECONDARY OBSERVATION TARGET.]

<Dr. Wrenna turns around when Sgt. Vestergaard has moved approximately 47 meters away.>

Dr. Wrenna: And don't fuck the security!

<Sgt. Vestergaard spins on his heels and shouts back to Dr. Wrenna, gesturing excessively with his arms.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Such sudden vulgarity from such a little man! I would never, I have both standards and a mission!

Dr. Wrenna: Whatever you have, just don't have a thing for the woman with the assault rifle!

<Sgt. Vestergaard makes a rude gesture towards Dr. Wrenna and walks away.>

[3 MINUTES AND 6 SECONDS CUT FOR BREVITY.]

<Sgt. Vestergaard stops walking and looks over his shoulder. He takes off his left glove and looks at the scar on his palm. He takes off the other glove and runs a hand over the area he was shot on his forehead. There isn't any scar tissue.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: … Can't quite remember last…

<Sgt. Vestergaard runs his fingertips down the scar. He sighs, puts his gloves back on and returns to Goldpoint Refuge.>

[5 HOURS, 11 MINUTES AND 49 SECONDS CUT FOR BREVITY.]

<Sgt. Vestergaard approaches Goldpoint Refuge. Of note, he passed away from hypothermia six times on his way back. He taps his foot on the trapdoor thrice and takes a few steps back. Five seconds later, the decoy trapdoor starts rising and reveals the two floor lift. Once fully raised, Sgt. Vestergaard steps in and starts descending.>

Test Six: [Through speaker] Welcome back, Mr. Vestergaard! Has the deadly winter treated you well?

<Sgt. Vestergaard scoffs and rolls his eyes.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: I enjoyed warmer company out there, really.

Test Six: [Through speaker] Such a shame! Heard you have had lots of warmth around here, though!

<Sgt. Vestergaard emerges in the lobby. Test Six is behind the reception desk and offers a wave. Notably, three figures are present in the lobby that the drone hadn't picked up on from the previous days spent in Goldpoint. Sgt. Vestergaard walks through the room.>

[INDIVIDUAL IDENTIFIED. PARATECHNOLOGY DETECTED.]

[ENGAGING SAFE STEALTH PROTOCOL. RETURNING TO SGT. VESTERGAARD.]

<Sgt. Vestergaard approaches the reception and leans over, speaking in a hushed manner to Test Six.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: My lad's making the gold. Have you disposed of the Coalition operatives as discussed?

Test Six: Handled by the good gentleman over there!

<Test Six gestures towards the individual that the drone scanned. He returns an upward nod.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Wonderful! Then I suppose our business is handled and MC&D will guard the obelisk?

<Test Six smiles politely and cants her head to the side.>

Test Six: For the next three days, yes— but shouldn't you be discussing this with Monsieur Vavar?

Sgt. Vestergaard: … You wouldn't be wrong. You are a clear favorite due to us two lacking a murderous relationship— unlike Vavar and I.

Test Six: I'm sure le Monsieur meant nothing personal, a mere test of your famed abilities! You are a bit of a legend in our organization.

<Sgt. Vestergaard pulls the membership card with Maximillian Carter's name out of his pocket. He flips it around to look at the Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd. logo which was used between 1920-1953.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Yeah, well. I just wanted to live it up big and happened to be willing to do whatever for that goal. I just wanted to eat at fine restaurants, missy.

Test Six: I hear you were in pursuit of a lot more than cuisine, though. New York gossips that you enjoyed many things.

<Sgt. Vestergaard scoffs and pushes himself off the counter. He walks towards the manager's office with heavy steps.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Sorry girlie, don't got time for diving into nostalgia.

Test Six: Of course! Good luck, Mr. Vestergaard.

<Sgt. Vestergaard waves half-heartedly. He approaches the manager's office and rasps his knuckles against it thrice.>

Vavar: [Muffled] Come on in!

<Sgt. Vestergaard pushes the door ajar, inspecting the gap the opening has created.>

Vavar: You fucking— you fucking think I'd trap the door that guests are invited through? What? Did you not manage to regenerate your Alzheimer's away, you old sack?

<Sgt. Vestergaard sighs audibly and steps inside the office, closing the door after him. The drone barely manages to fly inside before its way of entrance is eliminated.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Ought to be a bit more considerate of how you mouth loosely about your elders. You're going to end up as one of them a lot sooner than you think.

Vavar: Ha! You and I both know that nobody dies of old age in MC&D anyways.

<Sgt. Vestergaard looks past Vavar with a blank expression. He rubs his left palm with his right hand.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: We should feel the explosion soon, then I'll have a Foundation vehicle transport the gold here. Then the pillar is to be protected by MC&D forces for three—

Vavar: Yeah, yeah! You'll get your 3 days! No more than that, though. A million in gold might be worth a lot, but it ain't groundbreaking money.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Good.

<Sgt. Vestergaard places his hands in his pockets and glances at a painting of the Marshall, Carter and Dark Ltd. Skyscraper in Manhattan, New York City.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Is that where you got started?

Vavar: Oh, no-no. I started young. Carter Family loved getting little rats like my brother and I to run errands. Made it easy to write it off as kids being stupid. Eventually I got caught and was old enough to face jail, so…

Sgt. Vestergaard: They made you an official member upon being released?

Vavar: Oh, no. One of your boys came and picked up a bunch of us, sent us to a Foundation site in The Bronx. Had me test all sort of things, hence—

<Vavar grins widely, showing his numerous golden teeth.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Sorry to hear that.

Vavar: Nah, it's the business.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Yeah.

<The conversation pauses for 3 seconds.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Self-made escape or group effort?

<Vavar chuckles and leans back in his chair.>

Vavar: Think I'd be sitting here if I relied on others? Biggest guy in the room runs the show, y'know.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Yeah. I'll get out of your hair, whatever is left of it.

Vavar: Yeah, yeah. Damnable immortals and their hairlines…

Sgt. Vestergaard: And please, don't make me use my immortal years on being…

<Sgt. Vestergaard hums for a bit and cants his head to the side to glance at Vavar over his shoulder.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Petty, I suppose.

<Vavar squints slightly and raises an eyebrow. He nods slowly.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Glad we could come to an agreem—

<The conversation is interrupted by yelling and gunshots heard from the lobby. Both Vavar and Sgt. Vestergaard looks to the door.>

Vavar: Wh— why would you turn on me now?! What? You had the deal!

Sgt. Vestergaard: Not me, this has to be internal affairs!

Vavar: What the fuck do I have in Antarctica that wants to bring me down?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Run afoul of any penguins lately!?

Vavar: Piss off!

<Sgt. Vestergaard freezes halfway into drawing his sidearm. He has a confused expression. A subtle ticking sound is heard behind the door.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Is— tha—

Sgt. Vestergaard: Vavar, say something!

Vavar: Still here!

<Vavar coughs.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Good, do you have a weapon?!

Vavar: Inappropriate use of singular phrasing!

Sgt. Vestergaard: Stay put, I'll investigate!

Vavar: Yep!

<Sgt. Vestergaard checks the chamber of his H&K USP, and shortly after leans over to glance towards the door. As he does, a bullet ricochetes off the door frame, into a bust on the opposite side of the room, the painting of Vavar in the back of the room and hits the spot here Sgt. Vestergaard just leaned away from. He smacks his lips.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: [Whispers] Another bloody trickshooter? Goodness, when will they learn to do something new?

<Sgt. Vestergaard leaps out of his cover towards the center of the room, firing thrice with his pistol towards the door. He lands roughly and immediately stands up. A figure is seen running past the cloud, although no footsteps can be heard. Sgt. Vestergaard perks an eyebrow.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Curious… a silent trickshooter…

<Sgt. Vestergaard grumbles something under his breath and starts approaching the door. He slows down as he nears the door and rummages through an inner pocket, retrieving a small empty vial that is part of the standard Mobile Task Force kit. He gently tosses it out the door. A shot is heard and the vial is shattered.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Why, aren't you adorable!? Why not talk it out, I promise I'm a good listener!

<Nothing responds to Sgt. Vestergaard's vocalization.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Oh, you too? You should've said so. It all sort of started when I, at the age of 5—

<Sgt. Vestergaard slowly lowers himself while he speaks.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Started pulling potatoes at Ma and Pa's fa—

[HOSTILE ENTITY DETECTED. ASSIGNING IDENTITY "THREAT SIGMA".]

Sgt. Vestergaard: Ahem— farm, it was here I—

<Sgt. Vestergaard starts sprinting and jumps out into the opening, firing 2 shots at Threat Sigma's presumed location. Threat Sigma is nowhere to be seen, causing Sgt. Vestergaard to exclaim in an annoyed manner. He rushes to the reception desk and vaults over it.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Fanden og Vor Herre til hest, you're persistent! You could've easily secured a comfortable position somewhere, no? Unless you have already!

<Sgt. Vestergaard glances down to Test Six who is laying on the floor with a gunshot wound through her forehead. She has a polite smile.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Well that's not nice, I'm sure she'd have given you a chance if you asked nicely! You one of them inn cellars?

<Sgt. Vestergaard turns his head away from Test Six. A few seconds after he does so, a metallic, miniature entity, reminiscient of a centipede, crawls out of the bullet hole. It crawls under Test Six's hair.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: How did you even get the drop on that floozy— anyways, cheer up! I'm sure there's some women who'll feel pity for you eventually!

<Sgt. Vestergaard suddenly shifts further towards the other side of the reception desk, about a meter away from his original position. Three seconds later, a bullet ricochets off the ceiling, into the wall behind the reception desk and a bit to the side where Sgt. Vestergaard was originally positioned, roughly the midway point between his current and previous position. Sgt. Vestergaard slumps over, apparently to mimic being hit and collapsing.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: [Whispering] Come on, take the bait…

<Sgt. Vestergaard doesn't move and remains still for an extended period of time. He twitches an eye about 15 seconds in, seemingly in annoyance. 30 seconds in, he flares his nostrils and clenches a fist. 45 seconds in, he reaches for his sidearm. 60 seconds in, he stands up. 61 seconds in, he shoots.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Alright, this jest is ov—

<Sgt. Vestergaard is shot at point blank range with a SPAS-15 shotgun and falls backwards into the wall. He looks up at Threat Sigma, who stands idly in front of the desk.>

Threat Sigma: Guess you don't need to be a corpse to have died of old age, eh?

<Sgt. Vestergaard widens his eyes and scowls at Threat Sigma.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Slimey piece of SHIT— you better be across the ocean when I—

Threat Sigma: Sweet dreams, old man. The blood-debt has been paid, the Steelchain Chapel accepts your payment.

<Threat Sigma enters the lift and presses a button. He slowly ascends out of view.>

<The room falls quiet.>

[2 MINUTES AND 13 SECONDS CUT FOR BREVITY.]

<The entity which emerged from Test Six's bullet wound can be seen crawling through Fournier's mouth. Shortly after, the corpse spasms and anomalously regenerates. Fournier is seemingly revitalized.>

Fournier: Oh goodness! Caught me by quite a surprise, it seems. Mr Vestergaard, have you regenerated yet?

<A moment lasting 4 seconds passes.>

Fournier: I'll take that as a no! I'll go inspect the manager's office to confirm Vavar's status, be back in a jiffy!

<Fournier departs towards the manager's office. A blast shakes the facility, matching up with the expected explosion from Dr. Wrenna's transmutation.>

[1 MINUTE AND 46 SECONDS CUT FOR BREVITY.]

<Sgt. Vestergaard slowly ascends from behind the desk. He closes his eyes and runs his hands through his hair, slowly turning around to face the wall. He mutters something inaudible and roughly scratches his scalp with his nails. He cants his head back. He lets out a frustrated yell and kicks a trash bin over.>

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-2-9: Chaos Insurgency cell located on the outskirts of Leicester, England

4 DAYS, 12 HOURS AND 25 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

FOREWORD: Isolated cell of the Chaos Insurgency operating mostly under sleeper protocol. It is presumed the cell received a signal to activate and meet up in a safehouse that had been put under surveillance by intelligence agents. All four individual's identity has been acquired from local law enforcement.

Genevieve Westminister, 27 year old female, artist. Known by law enforcements for defacing properties and statues.
Ghassan al-Hakim, 20 year old male, unemployed. Suspected former D-Class, considered leader of the cell.
Isaac Marsh, 27 year old male, pyrotechnician. Suspected ties to the Irish Republican Army.
Rufus Khan, 23 year old male, known by law enforcement for association with local gangs. Lead vocalist for the punk band "BLØØD$GØRE"

<BEGIN LOG>

<al-Hakim can be seen approaching the door through the dirty shed window. He walks out of view briefly before he kicks the shed's door down. Its hinges fail due to the impact. The door kicks up dust that makes al-Hakim cough violently and wave his hand in front of his face.>

al-Hakim: Fuck! Bloody cabin seen better days.

<al-Hakim surveys the interior for a few seconds before turning around letting out a sharp whistle. Khan, Marsh and Westminister approaches, each carrying large hiking backpacks.>

Khan: Mate, the fuck is this? This is the headquarters for the Insurgency? You're shitting me.

Westminister: Obviously not, it's the safehouse, yeah?

<Westminister drops her backpack next to the entrance of the door and sighs.>

Westminister: Doesn't look that safe, though? Could certainly use a spring cleaning.

<Marsh steps inside and drops his backpack in the middle of the room.>

Marsh: A-ha-ha-ha… what's the rent on this place… shitstain property…

<al-Hakim removes an old cloth covering an old table in the middle of the room. He tosses the cloth outside and places his backpack on the table, opening it and retrieves a large, rolled-up map, a file and 4 earpieces. He rolls the map out, revealing it to be an old map of Rome, Italy.>

al-Hakim: Alright, need you to focus up. We're not playing games anymore. This shit just got real.

Khan: Said that last week too when Mills got snatched for smoking leaf, man. What, are you in trouble with the nonces again?

al-Hakim: No man, Insurgency serious. There's a reason why you're seeing this shitehole now, mans.

Marsh: Y'alright? Who are you and where's Kims?

al-Hakim: Take this seriously. If you still think I'm joking…

<al-Hakim walks over to the corner of the room and pulls up a floorboard, revealing 3 AK-74 assault rifles, a Dragunov sniper rifle and 8 Webley Revolvers.>

Westminister: Where the shit did you get those? If you had those all along, why haven't you shown us before now!?

Khan: We could take the fight to the coppers with this shit!

al-Hakim: Taking out a few nonces with badges isn't shit in comparison to taking out the real oppressors.

Marsh: Daaamn… a-ha-ha-ha… are we finally getting started?

al-Hakim: Yeah. Now, shut the fuck up and let me speak.

<Khan raises his hands in an apologetic manner and leans against the wall.>

al-Hakim: We got a call from above, not just that bitch who thinks she's the shit, no no. Real top. Delta type shit.

Westminister: Wait, isn't that—

al-Hakim: Bloody Engineer and their crew, yeah.

Marsh: Whoa… a-ha-ha…

Khan: Why the fuck does the big wig care about us?

al-Hakim: Don't know, not our place to know. Guy's smart as hell, yeah? They tell us to be somewhere, we will be there. Smack up some Foundation shit. Ain't here in home, though. We're going to—

<al-Hakim taps the old map of Rome twice. He opens the file he retrieved from his backpack, revealing four different flight tickets.>

Westminister: Shite Almighty.

Marsh: Can't believe we're actually getting to do something… Been itching to put a bullet in some brass ever since last year…

al-Hakim: Yeah. I'm dropping off our guns at a spot, smugglers will get our guns to Rome. You're going tonight Gen, Isaac goes tomorrow and Khan in 3 days. I'm arriving in 5. All expenses paid, but if you are going to get shitfaced, please do it somewhere that looks affordable for us, yeah cunts?

Khan: Heh. Alright. What about when we get to Rome?

al-Hakim: We're to await orders, but the way I heard it from London, right?

<al-Hakim smiles and rhytmically moves his head from side to side.>

al-Hakim: We're teaming up with the Snakes…

Westminister: Ooooooooh. The magicians… alright, alright, starting to like this more…

Khan: Ain't them the woke kids?

al-Hakim: They might be napping for all I care, who gives a shite. Don't know anything, Miss Whore will tell us more in Rome. Now, knowing them Found-Feds, we've already burned this place. Let's get the fuck out there and meet up in Rome, grab an earpiece, don't let any freaks see it. Understood?

<The group seems to widely agree.>

al-Hakim: Now get the fuck out.

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-2-10: Report to O5-5 from an embedded Foundation agent in the Vatican

5 DAYS, 1 HOUR AND 4 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

The Hand, The Insurgency and The Free Order of Nadox²⁰ have put aside their differences and formed an alliance. I can hardly believe that this kind of inter-GoI communication would be possible. I learned this from an Insurgent operative, fragile and scared little thing. Had him spit out what he was told, which was not much. This alone is, by far, noteworthy.

It is the following matter that makes it an emergency.

I think the Coalition has allied with the Rome branch of the Horizon Initiative and the Church of the Broken God. Those two consider each other mortal enemies. They think each other heretical. I don't know why. I don't know how. But there are soldiers in Rome. They aren't being very discreet, but I notice the shootouts at night. The overveil is protesting "gang war" and are getting desperate to stop this.

To say that Rome is escalating is an understatement. There's something that these two parties know that I don't, and I sure as hell know that you do.

-████████ ███

Document 3: Gamma Pillar

My experiences have repeated many a time on this journey. I've been met with a satisfaction for the powers that be, by those who hold it and by those who are oppressed by it.

Why?

Do they not see that this world order is to their detriment? Do they not understand that every man ought to have an equal right to bread, warmth and sunlight? It is often cited to me by both fools and wisemen that one cannot stop the sun from rising or setting.

But we are beings. The sun is celestial. Why do people equate that which is for that which cannot change?

I'm frustrated. Though, I've met more who are as I. Vengeful beings who have also been suppressed by the order of day and night. They seem to be more atuned to the prospect of burning rather than building. I've brought them with me.

Maybe I am wrong to consider that this world can be built on. Perhaps one must become acquainted with ash to grow a field.

Perhaps I am going about this mission in a manner much too mild. I must adapt.

-Contranumen

Addendum 9070-3-1: Children-Hand incident in Dakar, Senegal

5 DAYS, 2 HOURS AND 32 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

FOREWORD: Captured on surveillance equipment recently installed by O5-5The Shadow's personal task force, Alpha-25 "Shadow Wizards M.G." in Dakar, Senegal.

Weißenwrachz: Sau!

<Weißenwrachz turns around and points both of his wands towards the direction of the first projectile. An individual wearing a red jacket, black leggings and a pair of plated, dark gauntlets with glowing red symbols on them, walks into view. This person is suspected to be Adaline Carpenter and will be referred to such in the transcript.>

Weißenwrachz: Can you understand English? I am not looking for a fight!

<Carpenter snaps her fingers and manifests a new red projectile that flies at Weißenwrachz. This time the projectile is parried with thaumaturgy and shoots into the wall to his left.>

Weißenwrachz: We've been leaving each other well enough alone, why this all of a sudden!?

<Carpenter is about to snap her fingers again but halts. She waits 3 seconds before answering. Weißenwrachz breathes heavily.>

Carpenter: It is The King's decree. It is not you I wish to inflict harm upon, but your banner.

Weißenwrachz: Look, don't know your business with the Hand, but whatever it is I'm sure it isn't above diplomacy!

Carpenter: It is.

Carpenter: Pathetic trickster! An insulting misuse of magic!

Weißenwrachz: If I must be pathetic to not take a life today, that's a sacrifice I'm willingly undergoing. Spell should wear off in an hour, unless you're practiced in dispelling, that is?

<Carpenter growls something between gritted teeth. Weißenwrachz shrugs.>

Weißenwrachz: Guessed so. You Children should look into adapting your spells for "pathetic tricksters" as you put it, otherwise you'll have no chance against a seasoned wizard!

<Weißenwrachz knocks on the wall to his side. A Way appears, seemingly leading into a wooden interior.>

Weißenwrachz: I'll lock this behind me, so no need to bother running me down! Best of luck for your crusade of vague intentions!

Carpenter: I want— peace.

<Weißenwrachz halts halfway through the Way and sticks his head out. He scratches his beard.>

Weißenwrachz: Peace? The Children want… peace.

Carpenter: I don't care what the rest of us wants. I want peace. From the yelling and screeching. From the curse that I inhereted by blood. The Towers will cure me, as they will you.

<Weißenwrachz frowns.>

Weißenwrachz: Why didn't you come to us?

<Carpenter spits and frowns at Weißenwrachz.>

Carpenter: You're not willing to do what it takes. You would rather have me suffer than pay the proper price it'd take. I tried begging. It didn't work²².

<Weißenwrachz is silent for 5 seconds.>

Weißenwrachz: I'm sorry.

<Weißenwrachz leaves through the Way which disintegrates behind him. Carpenter whispers something inaudible in a frustrated manner for the next 10 minutes and 32 seconds before she starts sobbing.>

<END LOG>

AFTERWORD: 18 minutes and 11 seconds after this event, Carpenter was captured by an Alpha-25 MTF agent and contained at a safehouse.

Addendum 9070-3-2: Message to the O5 Council from O5-4

5 DAYS, 17 HOURS AND 45 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

A message was received from O5-4The Warlock via thaumaturgic crystal orb and transcribed by the Thaumaturgy and Countercursing Division of Site-03 for O5 Council deliberation.

FOREWORD: All of MTF Alpha-24 “Four Hands” are present alongside O5-4The Warlock:

Cpt. Naschalia Ygri
Sgt. Guillaume de Toulouse
Pvt. Rijae Joshi
SCP-████, "Test Eight"

<The connection fades in, causing the high pitched white noise to fade and the transmission to come through.>

O5-4The Warlock: -is Four. I apologize for the hectic—

Cpt. Ygri: I don't think pistol rounds are working!

Pvt. Joshi: Need a good hi—

<The conversation is rendered inaudible by the sound of something wooden snapping.>

Sgt. de Toulouse: TEST, NOT THE MAST.

<Bestial screaming.>

O5-4The Warlock: As I was saying, I apologize for the hectic situation. We're stuck at sea and had to go through desperate measures to obtain contact. There are unholy, red-scaled beasts out here. I am not quite sure of their origin, but they seem to be capable of creating an anomalous space to trap my—…

Sgt. de Toulouse: Rijae, did you animate the harpoon?!

Pvt. Joshi: Negative, fish must've done it!

O5-4The Warlock: Associates and I.

<A loud crash is heard, presumably the mast falling into the water. It is followed by a seemingly celebratory roar from an undefined source.>

Cpt. Ygri: Wait, we got one! Need something heavy to crash into them!

O5-4The Warlock: Due to us channeling this message thaumaturgically, we seem to have put them in an… Agitated state. Unfortunate. We can't make it to Dakar in time, there are four dozens beasts surrounding my…

<Silence falls for 2 seconds.>

O5-4The Warlock: Mastless vessel. We will try to survive and then retreat, but we will not be ready for conflict even if we make it to Dakar in time. It'd seem that the bullets are—?

Cpt. Ygri: Damned, sir!

O5-4The Warlock: Damned. Not to mention the fatigue of my exceptional bodyguards. It is my suggestion that we try to make amends with whatever Groups of Interest may be in Brazil to secure the Amazonas pillar.

<A loud, persistent roar from somewhere distant is heard.>

O5-4The Warlock: I will go for now. I am pretty sure that something the size of a celestial object is rising above the horiz— it'd surely appear so. I am needed. Farewell.

<The connection fades.>

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-3-3: Alpha Pillar investigation

5 DAYS, 23 HOURS AND 31 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

FOREWORD: Following a deal made with Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd. by Dr. Wrenna, 50 mercenaries of aforementioned loyalty have been mobilized to secure SCP-9070-Alpha. Due to the failure of Goldpoint Refuge to provide "proper protection", the Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd. mercenaries will be guarding SCP-9070-Alpha for the next week. O5-10The Summoner has gone to investigate personally and has been accompanied by senior researcher Prof. Aleca von Leisere, who is an expert on Exacratus-Class anomalies.

<BEGIN LOG>

<O5-10The Summoner and Prof. von Leisere are standing approximately 53m away from the pillar, with both of them averting their eyes from it. Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna stands about 5m away from the previous pair alongside the person formerly known as Fournier, who has been identified as Test Six.>

O5-10The Summoner: So you are certain that SCP-9070 is Exacratus-Class?

<Test Six whispers something to Dr. Wrenna. Sgt. Vestergaard glances towards the two.>

Dr. Wrenna: Curse.

<Test Six smiles politely and nods appreciatively.>

Prof. von Leisere: Without a doubt. An abnormally powerful one. Typically you befoul a person, a thing, maybe a city or a country. This?

<Prof. von Leisere gestures to the pillar with a pinky finger and goes quiet for 8 seconds. O5-10The Summoner remains still and quiet in her Environmental Hazard Orb²³.>

Prof. von Leisere: I think it is a curse on the world itself.

<Dr. Wrenna jolts when Prof. von Leisere speaks again.>

Prof. von Leisere: One must have a nigh unrivaled hatred to curse a whole planet and even its moon to go along with it.

O5-10The Summoner: Can you dispel it?

Prof. von Leisere: … No. To dispel this anomaly, one would need to find someone who has mastered—

<Prof. von Leisere doesn't blink from this point onwards.>

Prof. von Leisere: Exacratus anomalies, as well as understand— thoroughly— the hate the individual who caused this anomaly carried. We can decipher a bit from the pillars left behind, but even those we'd have to dispel all of.

<Prof. von Leisere gestures in an animated manner with their cane.>

Prof. von Leisere: What the one who cast the curse has done is rather smart. Surprisingly calculated, even. They've managed to split their hatred into five—

O5-10The Summoner: SCP-9070-Alpha through Epsilon.

Prof. von Leisere: Exactly. Which is not normally something one does with negative emotions powerful enough to be used for thaumaturgy.

<Prof. von Leisere suddenly turns on their heels and points the cane at Test Six.>

Prof. von Leisere: What do you hate, stranger?

<Test Six smiles politely and raises an eyebrow. She points towards herself. Prof. von Leisere nods seven times in a row.>

Test Six: Well. I suppose being seen as disposable?

Prof. von Leisere: Name the stages you hate of being disposable.

<Test Six squints and clasps her hands together and taps the back of her hand idly.>

Test Six: Well, I suppose the dehumanizing factor? Then, the— well— I suppose then the betrayal of being discarded by—

Prof. von Leisere: As you can see, the stranger here is obviously not trained properly in emotional regulation. She could muster, at best, two aspects of hate.

<Test Six purses her lips slightly and glances to Dr. Wrenna who shrugs.>

Prof. von Leisere: This man had such calculated hatred of— the world, I suppose— that he managed to not only cast a sophisticated curse, but he also divided into 5, equally powerful parts.

O5-10The Summoner: And emotions are notoriously hard to quantify.

Prof. von Leisere: Indeed. The disposable stranger notably cited a more pressing aspect first, the dehumanizing aspect. The betrayal that followed seemed to come second, though obviously I cannot know this for certain— what I do know that those two aspects are not almost perfectly divided. They are not given an equal amount of hate.

<Test Six seems to mouth "disposable?" in a confused manner. Dr. Wrenna gently places a hand on her shoulder.>

Prof. von Leisere: That's one part of the utterly nonsensical scaled equation, the nigh perfect control of genuine emotion. The other is the energy required. Hate is, within Exacratus anomalies at the very least, energy. But, let us be honest. You hated something 10 years ago. You've probably forgotten about it by now.

<O5-10The Summoner bobs her head.>

Prof. von Leisere: We can't even sustain hate for decades, yet this man managed to collect energy enough that he could affect the whole world for a dozen seconds, and then summoned anti-anomalous pillars in the wake of the spell.

<Prof. von Leisere falls quiet for 31 seconds. Sgt. Vestergaard impatiently shifts his weight from one leg to another every 6 seconds, seemingly frustrated. Test Six has started to smile in a very thin manner.>

Prof. von Leisere: Quite frankly, it is not something that is considered possible within our current understanding of Exacratus anomalies.

<Prof. von Leisere frowns.>

Prof. von Leisere: A person cannot hate that much.

<O5-10The Summoner closes her eyes and sighs. Prof. von Leisere leaves the conversation without proper dismissal and approaches SCP-9070-Alpha.>

O5-10The Summoner: Bloody hell, Four. Why are you unavailable now of all times.

<O5-10The Summoner lets out a short hiss.>

O5-10The Summoner: Alright. You two.

<O5-10The Summoner’s orb rotates around to face Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna. The former is busy eyeing Test Six and the latter straightens his back and arms down his side.>

O5-10The Summoner: I need you in Dakar. Most of our efforts are still focused on containment, most of our Overseers are personally handling many matters and our operation-ready forces are spread thin.

<O5-10The Summoner frowns, seemingly in confusion.>

O5-10The Summoner: There are several dangerous anomalies on the loose, we are having a hard time keeping up with amnesticization and to make it worse, the Hand and the Insurgents are making use of this chaos.

<Sgt. Vestergaard sighs with exaggeration.>

O5-10The Summoner: It is our belief that Dakar is about to become a battlefield of magics. The Children of the Scarlet King and the Serpent’s Hand are fighting over the Gamma pillar. There is one group I’d prefer having control of the pillar over the other. If we can’t maintain complete control, at least I want to influence who can hold the pillar until Foundation forces are ready to fight. Help the Hand if you must, openly or discreetly.

Sgt. Vestergaard: How fun, typisk amerikansk indgreb. Always wanted to try one of those.

<Sgt. Vestergaard scoffs and runs a hand through his uncombed hair.>

O5-10The Summoner: Good. You’re leaving in 2 minutes.

<Dr. Wrenna blinks in a confused manner.>

Dr. Wrenna: And the mode of– transportation, miss Ten?

<O5-10The Summoner’s feline features contorts into a mimicry of a grin.>

O5-10The Summoner: Demonology.

<Dr. Wrenna takes a deep breath. Sgt. Vestergaard starts reaching for his sidearm until Dr. Wrenna intervenes by grabbing Sgt. Vestergaard's wrist.>

Test Six: Oh goodness, how harrowing.

Dr. Wrenna: So, when you say demons—

<A member of O5-10The Summoner's personal MTF, Alpha-30 "Evil Kitties", hands two standardized complaint forms to Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna. Sgt. Vestergaard inhales sharply.>

[A 1 minute and 40 second segment of Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna filing numerous complaints has been cut due to the Secrets, Confidentiality, Privacy policy of 2008.]

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-3-4: Excerpt regarding the underveil West Africa political situation

INTELLIGENCE ANALYSIS ON THE ANOMALOUS GEOPOLITICAL SITUATION OF WEST AFRICA
by the Department of Intelligence & Surveillance

[…]

West Africa, like the rest of the continent, has never been entirely controlled by the Foundation. Only South America, which still has considerable Foundation presence due to control of the Brazilian government, comes close to Africa's situation. This, combined with the remnants of anomalous lineages of renown, missionaries of religions originating from the west and extreme biodiversity has made it difficult for the Foundation to secure a proper foothold. This has left to very few standing sites that are expected to be fully autonomous at times.

The Sahel and the Sahara especially are home to many anomalous organizations that have managed to create permanent fortifications at a point in time where the Foundation was occupied with other matters. Due to the effort needed to construct sites and the time it takes to do so, many construction projects must frequently be abandoned due to hostile intervention from Groups of Interest.

The First Pride²⁴, the Children of the Scarlet King and the Serpent's Hand remain the three largest Groups of Interest in West Africa, though that is not to say they hold geopolitical dominance. There are also many minor presences in the region, such as Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd., the Glocal Occult Coalition, Church of the Broken God, Sarkic Cults and the Chaos Insurgency.

Foundation personnel in West Africa, especially in the Sahel and the Sahara, must always be vigilant.

Most Foundation assets are unavailable for personnel in West Africa.

Addendum 9070-3-5: Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna's conversation enroute to Dakar, Senegal

6 DAYS, 8 HOURS AND 11 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

FOREWORD: Following their departure from Antarctica, Sgt. Vestergaard and Dr. Wrenna spent 5 hours and 21 minutes on transit to Dakar. Their mode of transportation are a pair of Malum-class²⁵ entities manifested by O5-10The Summoner, respectively known as Afrastella Maskmaker and Tarel'ka the Gilded to the Foundation.

<BEGIN LOG>

<Sgt. Vestergaard is held up by his arms inbetween Afrastella Maskmaker's talons. He is wearing a Hawai'ian shirt and cargo shorts. His eyes are covered by round shades.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: You're quite the delightful, doubtful morsel… shame I cannot weave you into my empire.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Doubtful? Perhaps I'm simply concerned about being held by some freaky pterodactyl's claws.

<Sgt. Vestergaard looks off to the side towards the horizon and smiles thinly.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: I do not believe it to be my grip alone that constrains you. You feel… burdensome.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Yeah, that'd be the seared penguin I indulged myself in back there in Snowland— do you have to talk or do you know when to quiet down?

<Afrastella Maskmaker huffs in an amused manner.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: As is your bidding.

<Tarel'ka the Gilded, who carries Dr. Wrenna on his back, moves closer tp Afrastella Maskmaker and Sgt. Vestergaard.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: I AM UTTERLY CONVINCED THAT IT'S A SHAKEDOWN. THE REAL VALUE LIES IN PRECIOUS MATERIALS, FOR GOLD OUTLASTS EMPIRES. THE MOMENT YOURS FALL, SO WILL THE HOARD IT MAINTAINS. I'VE HEARD THERE'S A LAKE ON ONE OF YOUR CONTI—

Dr. Wrenna: Sorry, man. But I get it, alright? Don't buy stocks, buy gold. How do you even have awareness of how mortal economy works when you spend most of your time in the Dusk?

<Tarel'ka the Gilded bobs his head from left to right in deliberation. He circles his claws idly as he does. Dr. Wrenna tries his best to stay on his draconic horns.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: WE ARE ABLE TO SEE INTO YOUR PLANE THROUGH NAMES. IMAGINE THAT YOU'RE BLIND, YOU STAND IN A DARK ROOM. YOU MIGHT BE ABLE TO HEAR VOICES, BUT WHEN THE NAME OF YOUR MASTER OR YOURSELF IS SPOK—

Sgt. Vestergaard: Look, wyvern. Please. I don't care. We probably have this documented somewhere, George.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: A-HA? DID THAT DECEITFUL WITCH ALREADY ATTACH STRINGS TO YOU? HAVE YOU BECOME A PUPPET FOR HER TO SPREAD CHICANERY THROUGH YOU? I WOULDN'T TRUST THOSE BHERRHIR FIE—

<Sgt. Vestergaard draws his sidearm and discharges it towards Tarel'ka the Gilded 5 times. The projectiles ricochets off the green scales into the ocean below.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: FINE, FINE. YOU MORTALS AND YOUR EXCESS OF EMOTION. I'LL STAY QUIET.

<Afrastella Maskmaker snickers.>

Dr. Wrenna: You seem… off. Is it about Fournier?

<Sgt. Vestergaard takes a deep breath and holsters his firearm.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: She was just another woman. No.

Dr. Wrenna: Certainly didn't look at her like just another woman. Or whisper to her. Or—

Sgt. Vestergaard: She's dead and gone.

<Dr. Wrenna scoffs.>

Dr. Wrenna: Yeah, but the important parts are preserved, right? Did you use X-ray vision to inspect Test Six's heart rate or something back at the Pillar?

<Sgt. Vestergaard rolls his eyes, he remains quiet.>

Dr. Wrenna: Can't help but notice—

Sgt. Vestergaard: How about you keep your notice on the task ahead, okay? I'm not in the mood for this introspective pseudoscience you people do nowadays.

<Dr. Wrenna frowns. He nods slowly and looks ahead with a puzzled expression. Afrastella Maskmaker snickers once more.>

…

[6 MINUTES AND 23 SECONDS CUT FOR BREVITY.]

…

Afrastella Maskmaker: Human.

Sgt. Vestergaard: What now?

Afrastella Maskmaker: There's land in sight.

Sgt. Vestergaard: And?

Afrastella Maskmaker: A magical bolt of power are headed our way. It's quite adeptly cast, I do believe that the spell is designed to certainly make impact with a target. That means either both of us go down, or you do.

<Sgt. Vestergaard squints his eyes. In the far distance, the drone is able to pick up on thaumaturgic signatures.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: WHAT IF I BLOCK IT? MY SCALES, MADE MAGNIFICENT BY GOLD AND SILVER, COULD SURELY TAKE IT.

Dr. Wrenna: My anomaly could neutralize it too, I reckon?

<The thaumaturgic signatures are 200 meters away and rapidly approaching.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: No, no. It was cast on the human and I specifically, you were not close enough. You do not have the contour like he and I do. It would simply warp around and find a path.

Dr. Wrenna: That's— God, why didn't I participate in those counter-thaumaturgy seminars—

<The thaumaturgic signatures are 150 meters away.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: If it hits me, can you hold onto me? Through the impact?

Afrastella Maskmaker: I'm uncertain. I cannot wield magic in this form to ensure it.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: HOW ADORABLE. MAGIC BEING INVALIDATED BY UTTERLY MUNDANE CIRCUMSTANCES.

<100 meters away.>

Dr. Wrenna: Damn it, dragon! We don't have time for this! What do we do?

<The group falls silent.>

Dr. Wrenna: Thorstein!?

<50 meters.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: When that mess gets close, toss me into it. I'll catch up.

Afrastella Maskmaker: Are you certain?

Dr. Wrenna: Wha—

Sgt. Vestergaard: Thoroughly. Need you to take care of George, ain't good in new circumstances.

<25.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: As you bid.

Dr. Wrenna: Wh— what the fuck?

Afrastella Maskmaker: Quite curious one.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: HUH. WONDER IF I CAN BUY THAT MORTAL, HE SEEMS QUITE VALUABLE.

<Dr. Wrenna sighs and rubs his eyebrows.>

Dr. Wrenna: Great. Now I'm a man down, in the middle of Foundation-hostile territory and need to somehow enable the Serpent's Hand to secure the pillar.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: GOOD THING YOU HAVE US. OUR WORTH CANNOT BE STATED IN YOUR LANGUAGES.

Afrastella Maskmaker: I have little interest in breaking the contract with The Conjurer. You will have my assistance 'til I turn to Dusk once more.

Dr. Wrenna: J— just swell.

<Dr. Wrenna narrows his eyes and looks down at the ocean. Sgt. Vestergaard's remains are starting to make impact with the ocean.>

Dr. Wrenna: This better not be another one of his schemes…

Tarel'ka the Gilded: HEY, AT THE VERY LEAST HE MIGHT BRING US SOME FISH ON THE WAY.

<Dr. Wrenna sighs and rubs his eyebrows.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: Curious magic. Someone is quite skilled at metamagic down there, to have hit us from this range and with such a specialized blast. I am starting to believe there'll be an abundance of opportunities to collect knowledge here.

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-3-6: O5-5 and O5-6's meeting regarding Brazil

6 DAYS, 9 HOURS AND 3 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

// BREAKING NEWS //

Manaus, Brazil: Following several violent clashes between protesters and police forces, D████ A█████, mayor of Manaus, has urged protesters to go home. There are several reports of exchanges of gunfire between masked assailants and police officers, which threaten to escalate the protests nationwide.

Following the deaths of 6 protesters, Amerda Sanchaz, representative of Carter Banking and Holdings, has urged both protesters and officers to practice patience and understanding. This statement seems to have prompted additional clashes in the last 24 hours.

The cause for these protests seems to have been sparked by compounding factors related to public disatisfaction with corruption and govermental response to steadily escalating environmental disasters.

We now go to our reporter outside th—

<O5-5The Shadow turns off the television. He and O5-6The Singularity are sat in O5-10The Summoner's apartment in New York City, United States of America.>

O5-5The Shadow: Quite unusual response from Carter. I wonder what is going on behind the facade.

O5-6The Singularity: Isn't that your assigned function to figure such out?

O5-5The Shadow: You try figuring out up and down in the middle of a global crisis.

<O5-6The Singularity sighs, the sound she emits crackles with electricity.>

O5-5The Shadow: I'm not sure how to handle Brazil, truth be told. It's quite obvious that the Insurgency is doing their best to obscure their movements, and I don't even want to know what MC&D are doing. Not to mention whatever undiscovered anomalous organizations are hiding in the Amazon are doing about the pillar.

O5-6The Singularity: Our old Roman friend sure knew how to make many of his pillars painfully inaccessible to us. 3 out of 5 pillars require us to sweat for them.

O5-5The Shadow: The world order was different back then, I suppose. Let's tally, though. We have MC&D's word that they'll guard Antarctica for us for roughly 5 million dollars worth of pure gold. Good thing our operatives down in Antarctica found someone so hungry for gold that they'd spin a few words to their superiors. I do suppose they're stockpiling resources for a potential collapse of the dollar, so perhaps that's why that worked.

O5-6The Singularity: That'd be absurd.

O5-5The Shadow: Right. Then we have India which…

O5-6The Singularity: Thoroughly handled.

…

O5-5The Shadow: That'd be the sane assumption, yes.

O5-6The Singularity: Then we have Rome, which also seems to be collapsing into conflict. They— really value those pillars, there. Must be religious in nature?

O5-5The Shadow: That leaves Brazil and Senegal. Both appears to be outside direct Foundation control.

O5-6The Singularity: … So only the Indian pillar is under our control.

O5-5The Shadow: Assuming MC&D allows us to take over Antarctica as they promised, potentially 2 pillars are under our direct control.

<O5-6The Singularity twitches an eye. A lens is replaced as she blinks.>

O5-5The Shadow: We're… not as prepared as I was led to believe to handle these scenarioes. World has changed faster than we have, I suppose.

O5-6The Singularity: The other GoIs are familiar with us, it's hard to use the shadows when they know to bring flashlights at this point.

O5-5The Shadow: And who do we have to blame for that, mh?

O5-6The Singularity: …

<The television turns on once more, revealing O5-10The Summoner in Antarctica with the pillar in the background. Prof. von Leisere seems to be pacing around the pillar in the background.>

O5-10The Summoner: I see you're making full use of my charity.

O5-5The Shadow: The satin sheets are to die for.

O5-6The Singularity: How goes Antarctica?

O5-10The Summoner: Curiously. I've commandeered your two operatives and sent them to Senegal, given Four's— misadventures. The curse specialist I've brought, the eccentric one from Site-03, is currently investigating something troubling.

O5-5The Shadow: What, eye contact?

O5-10The Summoner: Not quite. The pillar responds to verbal phrases, and seems to be responding to a Latin incantation.

O5-6The Singularity: Did you just start randomly citing Latin near the big, ominous obelisk of anti-magic?

O5-10The Summoner: No, but a researcher did read the phrase carved into the pillar out loud. A few phrases seemed to activate thaumaturgic energy in the anomaly.

O5-5The Shadow: And the effect of this incantation?

O5-10The Summoner: Unclear. And I don't exactly want to figure it out due to the scale that SCP-9070 came onto centerstage with.

O5-6The Singularity: What does the thaumaturge behind you suppose?

<O5-10The Summoner glances over her shoulder and looks into the camera with an apologetic smile.>

O5-10The Summoner: I quote: "I deal with curses, not generalized thaumaturgy, how should I know?"

O5-5The Shadow: And the rest of the thaumat—

O5-6The Singularity: Containment efforts.

O5-5The Shadow: Ah, those again! At which point do we let a few boogeymen go wild so we can get this situation handled? Let the GOC deal with it.

O5-6The Singularity: The GOC are fully focused on the pillars. And we both know the clean-up would be unacceptable.

O5-5The Shadow: So would the loss of the entire anomalous research we've been doing for a century or two.

O5-10The Summoner: I'll secure Four and haul him here. He's acquainted with traditional thaumaturgy.

O5-5The Shadow: Right. Six and I will depart for Rome so we can get a first-hand account of what that whole crumbling sand castle is up to, given we cannot afford to send some operatives there "due to safety concerns" after a never-happened-before event.

O5-6The Singularity: Cut your whining. The only reason why we know it to have never happened before is due to dealing with things using the scientific method, Five. Not by rushing in.

O5-5The Shadow: I'm starting to understand why Eleven is such a childish rebel with this antiquated council.

O5-10The Summoner: Look, if you're going to fight, please do so outside my property investments? I'd hate to have the interi—

<O5-6The Singularity turns the television off and stands up.>

O5-6The Singularity: Alright, let's get going.

O5-5The Shadow: As you say.

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-3-6: Excerpt on the use of thaumaturgy in combat

Basic Evocation in Combat
by Professor Weii, Serpent's Hand Evocation & Peacekeeping Expert

There's one thing you must understand about magecraft in conflict. If your magic cannot match or deflect a gun, you are not ready to use magecraft in conflict. It is that simple.

I will not be hearing about niche advantages. It's called The Great Equalizer for a good reason. Sure, it can be used to lend aid in combat, but guess what? Then you're most likely holding a weapon — weakening your spellcraft.

Before you bring it up, yes, there are traditional spellblades who've weaved between martial prowess and magic. No, you're not one of them if you're reading this. There are two variations of magecraft that dictate the LOWEST barrier of entry. Shield and bolt. Or projectile. Or blast. Call it whatever you wish, you may be a talented thaumaturge under a strict categorization of spells, or you might use wild magic that's more explosive but less adaptable.

It matters little what background of magic you have and it matters a lot more what you put in front of you. Let's understand the thing that will keep you alive long enough to master the other, shielding.

Back in the "good old days", I'm told that you were simply required to shield a specific incoming attack or barrage. Well, guess what, every attack nowadays is a barrage. A single weapon may unleash a barrage on itself.

So, shields are important. Have you ever noticed why we don't have that many insufferable elder wizards around? A good bit of them are hiding from or are dead to gunfire. There are texts that describe many a woe made by magical societies about an apocalypse of steel and gunpowder that'd wipe us all out of existence. They were, admittedly, almost right.

Luckily they spent a few decades to a century trying to figure out how to halt these firearms. However, they were always a little slower than the Mortal Empires in their research. This has started to turn in modern times. We have, at least I hope, some of the peaks of assault rifles in circulation now. So we're more than caught up ever since a thesis released in 2015 by Weißenwrachz. My thesis.

I know you're reading this, wanker. I know where you live.

Now one can partake in a very elegant, specific ritual that has been mastered by the most talented abjurers. It allows skilled magi to funnel small portions of energy into it at a consistent rate, so you needn't react to gunfire, a feat rather difficult even in these times. It works like a battery though, and it can run out— in this case you either run or funnel a significant portion of energy into your chosen focus. That's how you stay alive with AK-47s and all his siblings.

Next is offensive magic. If you've skipped to this point without reading the defensive part, congratulations. The hypnotic signature that the last part of the last paragraph dispels has now made you afraid of the color blue for the next week. Good luck!

In order to cast effective magic in combat, you need to be reminded of a pretty base fact regarding spellcrafting. Not because I don't trust you, I just don't think you can do it properly. The more advanced, that is, the more properties your attempted spell has, the more energy you need to expel. You see how that goes in the same scale as the defensive tangent I was on earlier?

Don't. Waste. Energy.

I know that the ancient depicts wonderful styles of magic that allowed us to do so much more, and I'm sure there are some alive who actually had the pleasure to experience that. I'm sorry you cannot do this anymore. Use the magic you need to and get out.

No tricks. No fancy moves. Do not put yourself in danger.

Now, let's discuss specific spellcraft, the first thing you want to do is [REDACTED AS PER THE DANGEROUS MAGIC AND MAGICIANS ACT OF 2001].

[…]

Now remember, if with magic you cannot befell 'em, rely on the good old Parabellum.

Addendum 9070-3-7: Dr. Wrenna's arrival to Dakar, Senegal.

6 DAYS, 10 HOURS AND 10 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Sgt. Vestergaard's location continues to be unknown, it is presumed that he has regenerated and moved to shore, or is in the progress of doing such. Due to lack of available personnel after SCP-9070, Afrastella Maskmaker and Tarel'ka the Gilded were tasked with assisting Dr. Wrenna on the condition that they did not reveal themselves to be anomalous to overveil individuals.

Dakar%20Roofs%20-%20Beach%20%26%20Ocean.jpg

^{Dakar, Senegal as seen from above.}

<BEGIN LOG>

Dr. Wrenna: Are you sure they— can't see us?

Afrastella Maskmaker: I am in a shape where I can use magic, yes. Disguises and actionability in disguises are our strengths.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: RUNNING TO THEIR LITTLE SKY-HOVELS ARE TOO, RIGHT? FOR SOME REASON, WHENEVER I SEE ONE OF YOU, IT'S ALWAYS WHEN YOU'RE SPRINTING AWAY FROM ME.

Afrastella Maskmaker: Or perhaps we'd like to maintain our ability to hear when yo—

Dr. Wrenna: I get it, okay? Can we— can we just focus? We need a plan, here.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: YOU DIDN'T SPEND THE TRIP HERE FORMULATING A PLAN?

Dr. Wrenna: Look, Thorstein usually does that when we're in the field. You can't just— you—, well expect me to do that on the spot.

Afrastella Maskmaker: Ah, reliance upon allies is usually many a warlord's downfall.

Dr. Wrenna: Let me— let me think.

<Afrastella Maskmaker and Tarel'ka the Gilded exchange a glare. Afrastella Maskmaker squints her eyes while Tarel'ka the Gilded bares his teeth. 11 seconds passes.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: WELL?

Afrastella Maskmaker: Plans don't form from impatience, brute.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: AND ACTION DOESN'T FORM FROM OVERTHINKING. THAT'S WHY YOU LITTLE SNIVELING LIZA-

Dr. Wrenna: That's it.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: WHAT?

Dr. Wrenna: We can't form a plan because we do not have the information. The plan is to gather information.

Afrastella Maskmaker: There we are. How do you desire to go about that?

Dr. Wrenna: You can be invisible, right?

Afrastella Maskmaker: It is so. I can also disguise myself to a variety of creations, unlike the manchild there.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: DON'T NEED SHAPES OTHER THAN COINS.

Afrastella Maskmaker: … Those ar—

Dr. Wrenna: Afrastella, I need you to move above the city and use your senses there. I need to know where there are hotspots of thaumaturgy, this way we can pinpoint potential hideouts from the various factions here.

Afrastella Maskmaker: As you wish.

Dr. Wrenna: Gilded, need you on the ground in the bars. Chat people up, ask about what's going on in the city. Pay attention to any strange deaths, local legends and odd individuals.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: DRINK, TALK AND LISTEN? VERY WELL.

Dr. Wrenna: We'll meet—

<Dr. Wrenna points to an area outside the city.>

Dr. Wrenna: There. By the coast come dawn.

Afrastella Maskmaker: Ah, from dusk 'til dawn. My favorite time. What of yourself?

<Dr. Wrenna squints his eyes.>

Dr. Wrenna: I think that… I'm going to go back to my roots.

Afrastella Maskmaker: So be it. We shall meet soon.

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-3-8: Letter delivered to Site-19

7 DAYS, 0 HOURS AND 1 MINUTE AFTER SCP-9070

Let us meet in Rome.

You know of the importance.

-Karcist Bellus

Document 4: Delta Pillar

My fellowship has been slaughtered.

The stars came down upon us. The locals called it a beautiful gift from the gods given to them every generation.

I think it an unnatural phenomena. A mere coincidence, like a tree falling upon a slave. A complete injustice from the very atom of cosmos.

It is hard to not be filled with vile hatred. Every time I see the night sky, I see those pillars of pale light fall upon us like a barrage of spears. I hear those pierced throats and lungs unable to formulate word and simply spewing blood. I hear those whimpers before they are sent to the Beyond. I see injust death.

It disturbs me. Sickening.

I know now that the magic I've learned over the past twelve years can make the world yield to my will. I know that hatred has power. I know souls have power. I have ten dozens restless souls.

This is a matter that is grave and requires consideration. I will return to Rome and study the points of magic in this world. I will hopefully regain sanity.

If I do no such thing, perhaps this is my purpose.

Perhaps I must repair the fundamental structure that holds our world together.

Perhaps I must rage.

-Contranumen

Addendum 9070-4-1: O5-12's message from Manaus, Brazil

7 DAYS, 13 HOURS AND 58 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

O5-12The Consul arrived in Manaus, Brazil after a prolonged period of absence from his position in the Foundation. He acted independantly with his actions only being known by the O5 Council as of this addendum. O5-12The Consul's conduct has been reported to the Administrator, who is currently deliberating on potential disciplinary measures.

FOREWORD: Recorded through a hidden camera in O5-12The Consul's suit.

^{O5-12The Consul, 2025.}

O5-12The Consul: Hello, good friends! I do apologize for my absence, I had a bit of business to settle with the devi— ex-wife!

<O5-12The Consul winks into the camera and checks his teeth. He continues speaking through them.>

O5-12The Consul: I'm in Brazil! Checked the files, saw you were in a pinch! I'll see if I can't dislodge you from that, now that you're so busy with Italy, India, Antarctica, Senegal even! I'm on my way to meet the local, well—

<O5-12The Consul pouts exaggeratedly while bobbing his head.>

O5-12The Consul: —local opposition! I'll be bringing you along for the trip! I need to share the moment I get the drop on these Insurgency goons, I know you'll find it quite entertaining as well!

<O5-12The Consul tilts his head around to inspect his face from several angles. He then grins and chuckles.>

O5-12The Consul: You're going to love this! I've been working on it for a few days! See you in the action.

Addendum SCP-9070-4-2: Excerpt on thaumaturgic equipment

The following is a blogpost made on "uMagicca", a Three Portlands-based social media platform which requires a certain level of mana signature in order to register an account. It has faced critique due to becoming an increasingly exclusive site with the mana threshold required for registering increasing frequently. The Foundation has only one account left which has been banned for 5 years, thus making it an inaccessible space for researchers and intelligence agents.

Wands and War
/TheJASter/
^{03/03/12 19:57}

At this point, I assume you know the basic rules of spell-combat. Do not waste energy. This is the conclusion of my famed paper on using the arcane in modern combat, which a certain moron— you know who— assumes I stole from them. I didn't, every idiot would've reached the same conclusion, it's been a basic rule in all other kinds of activities. Sports, war and artistry. This imbecile will also tell you that there are only very limited ways to not waste energy.

They are also wrong on this.

Magic remains magic. It is said there is a spell discipline for every 5 magic users in the world, though while it may be exaggerated, it is very true that it is hard to make generalized, broad rules for all of magekind. Let's take my signature discipline famous for its combat application; dual wielding wands.

One might imagine that this is a fool's errand. It is but an errand. But a fool's errand if you're a fool. There is an extremely simple reason for why I use two wands, and that is utility. Many young wizards who tend towards controlled spells are afraid to let their talented variety out in combat, for good reason. One needs to return fire, quite literally, they also need to charge their defensive capacities.

Now, my double wand reason remains this: If it is hard to break a caster's shield anyways, why spend too much energy on attacking? Use what's necessary and not a bit more, then charge your own shield with the rest. And when the shield is charged? What do you then do with your surplus power? Utility.

One wand to attack. One wand to bend the rules. You shouldn't overcharge your shield more than necessary, since that goes against the first rule: Do. Not. Waste. Energy. Use your creative flair from the safety of your shield and the coverfire of your primary wand.

Now, if it was that easy, surely a lot of people would be as good as me in a wandslinger shootout. You will note that this isn't the case, given my continued capacity for drawing breath.

Like most other things, using two hands at the same time can be difficult, especially with incantations and gestures. This will require practice, like all magic. Though if you dedicate yourself to it, you will discover that combat opens up to a whole plethora of new ways to kick jailers' shins and asses.

Try it out. Don't waste the fantastical on the boring in this bleak, grey world!

/TheJASter/

Spell (+53) — Dispel (-41) — Incant (249) — Report (!)

I•N•C•A•N•T•A•T•I•O•N•S

B!SHW!SH
^{03/03/12 20:01}

A lot of people seem to doubt this, but I think this is surprisingly applicable. I'll report back if I don't manage to blow myself up with my academy wand LOL

Spell (+7) — Dispel (-2) — Report (!)

ProfDocSgt
^{03/03/12 20:06}

loool another mage larper :/ grow up dude

Spell (+26) — Dispel (-5) — Report (!)

DRCLFCKR
^{03/03/12 20:07}

quill yourself

Spell (+13) — Dispel (-21) — Report (!)

…

Addendum SCP-9070-4-3: Interrogation of Adaline Carpenter

7 DAYS, 15 HOURS AND 47 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Following Carpenter's capture, Agent Nunya of Alpha-25 "Shadow Wizards M.G." begun an interrogation by order of O5-5The Shadow. Due to extraordinary circumstances, enhanced methods of interrogation were permitted to extract knowledge of the Children of the Scarlet King's movements in Dakar. Due to the methodology involved, this addendum is not available to personnel with a clearance of 3 or below.

^{Dakar, Senegal.}

FOREWORD: Interrogation takes place in a safehouse noticed in the Sacré-Cœur district of Dakar. The footage is recorded on a camcorder placed on a tripod.

<BEGIN LOG>

Carpenter: How am I supposed to take a piss again?

Nunya: I don't care. That's not in my priorities. If you'd tell us of your cult's hideo—

Carpenter: Society.

Nunya: … Society's hideout, why I reckon you can take all the piss you want, Carpenter.

Carpenter: Sorry, Jailer. I am going to need a bit more from that exch—

<Nunya punches Carpenter in the stomach, causing her to temporarily lose consciousness. She regains consciousness while retching and coughing.>

Nunya: Sorry. I'm not permitted to negotiate with the doomsday cult.

<Carpenter takes a few short breaths and spits to her left.>

Carpenter: My blood hurts more than your fist.

Nunya: Ah, the tough act. Well, let's switch up gears then, no? What's a little, American girl like you doing in Senegal? Are you a charitable soul?

<Carpenter breathes raggedly and wrinkles her nose. She forces her eyes shut for a second before opening them.>

Carpenter: Sacramento got stale, you know? Too many unmarked vans and shitstains driving th—

<Nunya punches Carpenter in the stomach again, causing her to crumble over with a pained groan.>

Carpenter: Sh— same— spot?

Nunya: I'm very good at my work, Miss Carpenter.

<Carpenter grins as she breathes with difficulty.>

Carpenter: Is that why you're stuck with me instead of doing actu—

Carpenter: H-hit a nerve, d-did I?

Nunya: Alright, I'm going to level with you here, cult-whore. I don't have time for your shit. Tell me something usable or shut the fuck up, alright?

<Carpenter smiles. She is missing five teeth.>

Carpenter: I c-can tell you so-something usef-ful, yeah.

<Carpenter takes a deep breath. Nunya looms over her with clenched fists.>

Carpenter: A curse— is empowered— by hate. T-Those pillars?

<Nunya wipes his face with a clenched fist. His nose appears to be bleeding, though he doesn't pay it attention.>

Carpenter: They— are— hate. And so… am I.

<Carpenter inhales sharply, presumably due to the fractures in her ribcage.>

Carpenter: And the second thing— I can tell you…

<Carpenter looks into Nunya's eyes. The latter starts swaying.>

Carpenter: This— is the closest thing you'll— experience…

<Nunya stumbles.>

Carpenter: To laying a finger—…

<Nunya starts trying to blink rapidly.>

Carpenter: On a— woman—…

<Nunya is about to keel over before he makes a gesture with his hands, causing him to fade into shadows and disappearing from view.>

Carpenter: Not— completely useless, are you?!

<Carpenter grits her remaining teeth and clenches her fists. The rope around her wrists starts tearing apart. It gains a red outline. After roughly 3 seconds, it breaks apart.>

Nunya: Persistent bitch, ain't you?!

<Carpenter cringes her hands into another gesture. Nunya starts stumbling backwards and turns into a cloud of black smoke again.>

Carpenter: Bit of a bitch yourself, aren't you?! Don't even have my handwear!

Carpenter: Fucking— ribs!

<Carpenter reaches the gauntlet. She loosely equips it and rolls on her side to face Nunya, who's stumbling to his feet.>

<She snaps her fingers again. Another blast shakes the camera's view and causes Nunya to stumble backwards into the kitchenette. Nunya attempts to make a gesture to warp away, but his hands shake too much.

<She snaps her fingers once more. Nunya is slammed into the kitchenette, causing him to bend backwards and hit his head against the curtained window. He gasps for air.

<She snaps her fingers in rapid succession. Nunya's protective field is deteriorating steadily, he starts chanting under his breath.>

<She snaps her fingers and lets out a roar. Nunya runs out of breath to speak an incantation.>

<She snaps her fingers and lets out a pained chuckle. Nunya lets out a panicked yell.>

<She snaps her fingers and goes quiet. Nunya's shield shatters.>

<She snaps her fingers and snaps Nunya's spine.>

Carpenter: How's--… How's--…

<Carpenter smiles widely and laughs to herself for 6 seconds, before she stops with a groan of pain. She goes quiet for roughly 2 minutes before she starts sobbing. She passes out after 11 minutes.>

<END LOG>

AFTERWORD: The recording was automatically sent to O5-5The Shadow and Alpha-25. Agent Nunya's loss is considered acceptable due to his juniority and repeated disciplinary-worthy actions. Carpenter is assumed to expire from her injuries inevitably and thus requires no further attention.

Addendum SCP-9070-4-4: Discovery of Sgt. Thorstein Vestergaard

7 DAYS, 15 HOURS AND 58 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Following Sgt. Vestergaard expiring from a thaumaturgic projectile seemingly of Scarlet Cult origin, a drone with the same experimental technology as the one accompanying Dr. Wrenna was dispatched to locate, and if possible accompany Sgt. Vestergaard.

FOREWORD: Drone found Sgt. Vestergaard in a perpetual state of drowning. After 3 hours of observation, he washed ashore on the Saloum Delta National Park. Sgt. Vestergaard has been granted 2 vacation days as part of the Eternal (No More) Damnation policy implemented by the Ethics Committee in 2017.

<BEGIN LOG>

<Sgt. Vestergaard is laying in the shrubbery on the coast, retaining no items or clothing due to his corpse's obliteration. He sighs heavily and rubs his temple. He looks around.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: That lovely tinnitus must mean you're watching me, suspiciously stealthy drone. Please confirm.

[ATTEMPT TO TRANSMIT CONFIRMATION FAILED: NO AVAILABLE DEVICE DETECTED.]

<Sgt. Vestergaard narrows his eyes. He runs a finger over his left ear.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Right. No earpiece. My apologies.

<Sgt. Vestergaard stands up on the mossy ground. He looks into the mangrove forest he washed ashore on. He starts to climb onto a steadier surface and brushes his hands off. He turns his head 90° to the right and notices a group of five humans and 16 instances of animated snake bones. The humans are wearing a mixture of green scales, hides and contemporary clothing. One of them, a middle-aged woman with decorative bones pierced through the skin of her forearms, is holding a staff with a rough diamond attached to it.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Mhm.

<Sgt. Vestergaard slowly looks ahead again and tries to leave, but halts when the thaumaturge harshly taps the ground with her staff. He sucks his teeth and slowly turns to face them. He covers his genitals.>

[INDIVIDUALS PRESUMED TO BE OF FIRST PRIDE AFFILIATION. ASSIGNING 1ST-1 CODENAME. TRANSCRIPT TRANSLATED FROM WOLOF.]

1ST-1: It'd seem that the Corpse Spirit stands once more. Why are you here, Devil?

<Sgt. Vestergaard pouts and widens his eyes in contemplation, before bobbing his head. He points to himself with one hand.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: English.

<1ST-1 looks to a younger woman. Said woman, 1ST-2, shrugs with exaggeration and shakes her head. 1ST-1 gestures to Sgt. Vestergaard sharply.>

1ST-2: … Français?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Oui. Petit.

1ST-1: Inform him that he will meet our priest and clarify his trespassing.

<1ST-2 leaves her mouth slightly ajar and squints her eyes. She mouthes something under her breath, apparently deliberating on how to simplistically communicate with Sgt. Vestergaard.>

1ST-2: [French] You'll come to meet our chief.

<Sgt. Vestergaard smiles thinly and wrinkles his nose. He circles his free hand.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Non?

<1ST-2 purses her lips and slowly looks to 1ST-1. 1ST-1 sighs and gestures a thaumaturgic sign, causing 5 of the animated sets of snake bones to slither towards Sgt. Vestergaard. He places his face in his hands and curses something under his breath.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Oui, oui…

1ST-1: Let us move. I am growing tired of outside interference.

<Two individuals, one armed with a compound bow and the other with a Winchester Model 70 rifle²⁶, move behind Sgt. Vestergaard and idly chat among themselves at a volume the drone does not register. 1ST-1 starts walking ahead, the the group follows her.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: For helvede også.

[31 MINUTES AND 51 SECONDS CUT FOR BREVITY.]

Sgt. Vestergaard: Okay?

<One of the persons behind Sgt. Vestergaard clears her throat.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Okay.

<Sgt. Vestergaard clicks his tongue and takes a careful step onto the lake. Upon confirming he is not sinking into the water, he moves a few steps out and is followed by the two individuals behind him. 1ST-1 taps her staff against the lake, causing it to ripple. The group starts sinking and becomes invisible once past the surface. Sgt. Vestergaard sighs and packs some air in his lungs. The drone follows close by and sinks along with the group.>

1ST-1: Look at this man. Frightful of a little illusion. Maybe he is not special at all!

1ST-2: I think it special to drown, eject water from one's lungs and go back to drowning. Typically one drowns once, maybe twice if they're saved in time and tossed back in.

1ST-1: American technology, probably. Who knows what they get up to over there?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Holy shit.

Sgt. Vestergaard: I really gotta start reading about Groups of Interest.

1ST-3: I would agree. My people are very fascinating, stranger. Are you from the Americas, per any chance?

Sgt. Vestergaard: … I suppose I am, yes.

<1ST-1 approaches 1ST-3 and whispers something into his ear. He nods repeatedly and lets out a hum. He raises both of his eyebrows and lets out a chuckle.>

1ST-3: I'm told you're a Corpse Spirit.

Sgt. Vestergaard: I like to define myself moreso on my state of life. It has a terribly insistent quality to it.

1ST-3: How intriguing. And for what reason do you trespass on our lands?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Shot out of the sky.

1ST-3: By…?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Magic.

<1ST-3 squints.>

1ST-3: What of your belongings? You appear surprisingly unequipped for a white man.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Spread all over the West African coast, I'd imagine. They suffered the same fate as me.

1ST-3: I believe I know why you're here, stranger. You are here due to the Iron Tower in Dakar. The one which disrupts the rivers of magic.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Trying to prevent bad actors from getting their hands on it, yes. There are some vile people who would wield it against yours.

<Sgt. Vestergaard looks around. He glances at a large orb in the cave ceiling that glows a weak lime-colored tint. He seems to look at how people of all ages are starting to gather around him. several animated snake bones seem to be among them.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Can I lose the snake, by the way? It's already quite a horrendous situation to be in without the bone bondage.

<1ST-3 hisses. The snake around Sgt. Vestergaard's wrists unwraps itself and slithers off. It digs into the ground and disappears.>

1ST-3: I am not quite convinced you're not one of the vile people, stranger. One must have done things of great lengths to achieve a deathless existence. Less you are a trickster spirit. Besides…

<1ST-3 grins to Sgt. Vestergaard.>

1ST-3: You've seen a home of The First Pride. You will not be departing.

<Sgt. Vestergaard clicks his tongue. He glances at a child who's pointing and laughing at him.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: I really need to, though. I don't want to leave my naïve friend to fend for himself. He's, you know, ensuring that the Coalition cannot erase all magic.

1ST-3: What a tall tale! You will be a great storyteller here.

Sgt. Vestergaard: I promise that it's not in your best interest to keep me here.

<1ST-3 slowly tilts his head to the side, he eyes Sgt. Vestergaard up and down. He huffs in an amused manner.>

1ST-3: You would threaten us?

<The animated dinosaur next to 1ST-3 takes a step forth and anomalously produces a growl.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: No, I would warn you. I'm sadly of great importance to a certain organization that handles anomalies.

1ST-3: A-no-ma-lie-s. You are of the Jailers.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Ah, they call us that here too? Sure.

1ST-3: How… troubling.

<1ST-3 turns around. He whispers to 1ST-1 and glances back at Sgt. Vestergaard. He sighs heavily.>

1ST-3: You will keep our prison warm. It has not seen use in a while. We will decide your fate there.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Oh, that can't possibly be—

<The animated dinosaur rips Sgt. Vestergaard's head off. Its tail collides with the drone, causing it to be knocked to the ground, though nobody seems to notice.>

[CRITICAL DAMAGE SUSTAINED. ENTERING REPAIR MODE. ENDING RECORDING.]

<END LOG>

Addendum SCP-9070-4-5: Darkwatch Forums thread related to Dakar

Excerpt from the Darkwatch Forums based off the Parawatch Forums with the key difference being the former is hosted on a darknet. The Foundation has limited access to these forums due to a frequent randomization of encryption keys. The distribution of new encryption keys is poorly understood.

^/DARKWATCH

WtheFAUN ^[OP] ^{31/06/25 19:03 UTC}
heyyyyyy

in dakar on a haunted location trip! anyone know anything strange around there? :)

EKSZEPZIONALZ ^{31/06/25 19:08 UTC}
What state is Dakar in?

Warlock76 ^{31/06/25 19:11 UTC}
Dakar is like fucked rn lmao

Cult gang war or something is going on

Would advise not going anywhere at night

Potwizz ^{31/06/25 19:12 UTC}
saw a lady get dragged into an alley by a masked dude don't fuck around man go further inland, plenty of cool stuff in the rest of senegal

EKSZEPZIONALZ ^{31/06/25 19:13 UTC}
Oh, right. Senegal. Why would you go there, come to California instead!

Plenty of cool ghost towns here!

BayBlades ^{31/06/25 19:15 UTC}
ngl forgot dakar existed :P

idk about cult wars but i know there's shamans and stuff south of dakar, went there on a trip a few years ago during covid and saw a bunch of tribals staring at us with skull staffs lol

it was so funny to see them with american clothing i wonder how they get that in africa

Warlock76 ^{31/06/25 19:17 UTC}
@BayBlades

so much to unpack there dude fuck off

BayBlades ^{31/06/25 19:19 UTC}
@Warlock76

looooooool chill woker im just joking

TheJASter ^{31/06/25 19:19 UTC}
I'm in Dakar @op, do you want to meet up?

WtheFAUN ^[OP] ^{31/06/25 19:22 UTC}
would love to! i'm at the Speeeeedzster Gaming Café, i hear there's a bar next door, totally meet me there :D

i'm wearing a grey shirt and jean shorts

TheJASter ^{31/06/25 19:25 UTC}
I'll drop by soon.

Potwizz ^{31/06/25 19:26 UTC}
bro that's a fed haha

Addendum SCP-9070-4-6: O5-5 and O5-6's meeting with Karcist Bellus in Rome, Italy

7 DAYS, 18 HOURS AND 36 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Following an invitation anomalously sent to Site-19's main entrance, O5-5The Shadow and O5-6The Singularity elected to meet with who is presumed to be Karcist Bellus. O5-5The Shadow and O5-6The Singularity are accompanied by MTF Alpha-26 "Cybercrawler Couriers", O5-6The Singularity's personal MTF. Each Alpha-26 agent is armed with Marshall PDP44²⁷ pistols.

In_cima_al_Pantheon_di_Roma,_1975_-_On_the_top_of_the_Pantheon_in_Rome_(Italy),_1975_--_005.jpg

^{Live footage from member of MTF Alpha-26 "Cybercrawler Couriers".}

FOREWORD: O5-5The Shadow and O5-6The Singularity are seated in a couch in Albergo ██ ██████, a 3 star hotel in the center of Italy. The hotel staff has been infiltrated and impersonated by Alpha-26.

<BEGIN LOG>

<O5-5The Shadow looks at his watch. He fidgets with his suit's buttons and glances towards the entrance.>

O5-5The Shadow: Are you sure they're trained for this?

O5-6The Singularity: Who? My MTF? Do not worry about them. They'll perform.

<O5-5The Shadow adjusts his tie. He checks the combat knife that is sheathed in it. He silently throws a glance to O5-6The Singularity who's dressed in a long-sleeved black dress with a hijab and satin veil with the same color. She returns an unamused expression.>

O5-5The Shadow: What leads you to believe that this odd karcist can even find us without communicating with us?

O5-6The Singularity: Five, I'm probably the only Nigerian woman accompanied by a Chilean man in 10 square kilometers. Assuming they have informants in the city, we'll stand out aplenty in this snowstorm of a city.

<O5-5The Shadow nods his head to the side and shrugs.>

O5-5The Shadow: Fair enough.

<O5-5The Shadow squints at his watch.>

O5-5The Shadow: Received word that Wrenna has arrived in Senegal. He's using Ten's demons quite proficiently, apparently. Lost a rather notoriously incompetent member of my MTF, however.

O5-6The Singularity: Was he discovered by any Dakar factions?

O5-5The Shadow: … No, underestimated a thaumaturge a bit too much.

O5-6The Singularity: How mundane.

Bellus: I am Karcist Bellus. I see you've chosen to accept my plea.

<O5-5The Shadow and O5-6The Singularity exchange a glance. An MTF agent walks over to the revolving door to lock it.>

O5-6The Singularity: That has yet to be decided.

<Bellus tilts his head back and nods to himself. From this angle, it becomes evident that his eyes are made of glass.>

Bellus: Would you walk with me?

O5-5The Shadow: No.

O5-6The Singularity: Almost assuredly out of the question.

Bellus: And if your armed aides were to accompany us?

O5-5The Shadow: I'm more amendable to that. What of your own security?

Bellus: Unnecessary. We are but a few after bloodthirsty assaults on my people. I am my own security, although I suppose I do not stand a chance to people of your…

<Bellus hums.>

Bellus: Perizia.

O5-5The Shadow: GOC?

Bellus: I am afraid I am not wholly informed on the… broader organizations of l'inferno society. I know you only as Jailers.

O5-6The Singularity: Ah. The J-word. Perhaps it is best we maintain it as such level.

O5-5The Shadow: Any details of note?

Bellus: I suppose I can differentiate between three distinct groups that have made moves against us. Missionaires from the Vatican, soldiers with blue armbands and heretical cultists in red robes.

05-5: … Ah. Curious.

Bellus: They often cooperated, Vatican soldiers storming ahead with halberds as wretched men and women flung horrible curses at our artisans.

<Bellus frowns.>

Bellus: I'm not entirely sure why they view us as a threat. We merely turn blood to art.

<O5-5The Shadow and O5-6The Singularity exchange glances. O5-6The Singularity sighs deeply and stands up. She dusts her woolen dress off and gestures for Karcist Bellus to stand.>

O5-6The Singularity: Very well. Let us go for that walk. I am afraid I must inform you that any trickery will be met with excessive response.

Bellus: A valid warning.

<Bellus stands. O5-5The Shadow squints at O5-6The Singularity and stands up. He approaches her and whispers to her.>

O5-5The Shadow: I thought your heart was an implant.

O5-6The Singularity: Your point?

O5-5The Shadow: How come it bleeds?

<O5-6The Singularity rolls her eyes and circles a finger in the air, signaling to all of the MTF agents to deactivate their disguise implants, causing them to appear in their civilian clothes. The group heads for the newly unlocked exit.>

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-4-7: O5-12's negotiation with the Brazilian branch of the Chaos Insurgency

8 DAYS, 2 HOURS AND 18 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Following a shootout between armed protesters and the riot police in Manaus, Brazil, O5-12The Consul seated himself in a public café about 300 meters from engagement that ended roughly 10 minutes before. O5-12The Consul's personal MTF, Alpha-32 "Innocent Death Squad", are stationed on the surrounding buildings' rooftops, at sniper nests in vacated apartments and in close proximity to O5-12The Consul in the café.

The Administrator has flagged O5-12The Consul for Ethics Committee investigation.

FOREWORD: Due to O5-12The Consul's unanomalous nature, he has been equipped with a kevlar suit and tie.

<BEGIN LOG>

<5 MTF Alpha-32 agents are sat at various outdoor tables, each with a pistol in front of them. 5 meters away from O5-12The Consul, a corpse of a woman in her late twenties are lying in the middle of the street, having expired from blood loss while trying to crawl away from the recently occurred shootout. A few wooden chairs which have been heavily exposed to outside elements have been knocked over in the panic away from the massacre. A laptop is placed on the table in front of O5-12The Consul. Its screen shpows a live view of a scene overlooking an ongoing protest through a window from a hotel room in another part of Manaus. A C4 explosive concealed behind the windowframe on the left side of the recording, just out of view from anyone standing outside. 2 wires are attached to the C4 explosive, connecting it to other instances like it.>

O5-12The Consul: Goodness, you'd think they'd be a bit faster to react to things like this.

A32-4: Uhh, I suppose, Sir.

O5-12The Consul: I was speaking to myself, girl. Shut up, I'll let you know when I need you to open that cunt-licker of yours.

<A32-4 purses her lips and looks ahead. O5-12The Consul looks at his watch.>

O5-12The Consul: Fucking idealists.

<O5-12The Consul sighs. He looks towards the entrance into a residential building ahead of him whose opens. Out of the door a woman in her late fifties exits, wearing a beige trenchcoat, black high heels and large, round sunglasses. She holds a black briefcase, which she switches to her other hand as she approaches O5-12The Consul.>

O5-12The Consul: Finally.

[PRESUMED IDENTITY IS DELTA COMMANDER VAMBRACE OF THE CHAOS INSURGENCY.]

Cmd. Vambrace: Fascist pig, I presume?

O5-12The Consul: Oink oink, lady. Feel free to grab a seat or remain standing or whatever makes you feel empowered.

Cmd. Vambrace: How kind of you. I suppose I'll take the seat, you're not worth the effort standing requires.

O5-12The Consul: Charming.

<Cmd. Vambrace sits down in front of O5-12The Consul, throwing an idle glance to the laptop. She frowns, leading O5-12The Consul to smile in response.>

O5-12The Consul: Fine work, isn't it?

Cmd. Vambrace: Consider me a critic.

O5-12The Consul: Ah, can't win 'em all. Don't worry, just insurance in case you do something profoundly stupid.

Cmd. Vambrace: Insurance? This is not material to make us comply?

O5-12The Consul: No, no! What do you think I am, a monster?

Cmd. Vambrace: You announced your presence with the massacre of innocents.

<Cmd. Vambrace glances to the dead woman in the middle of the street. A mosquito is attempting to extract blood from the corpse's widened eye without much success.>

O5-12The Consul: It was just a dozen, chill lady. Besides, we took out double that in those pigs you hate so much.

Cmd. Vambrace: How kind. What do you want?

O5-12The Consul: To help you.

O5-12The Consul: …

Cmd. Vambrace: …

<5 seconds of silence passes.>

<O5-12The Consul and Cmd. Vambrace laugh for 8 seconds. O5-12The Consul regains his composure and wipes a tear from his eyes. Cmd. Vambrace chuckles lightly.>

O5-12The Consul: Okay, maybe I wouldn't call it help. An understanding, perhaps?

Cmd. Vambrace: That is quite new. I did not think the Foundation willing to understand my outfit.

O5-12The Consul: Well, it's pretty for an aging corpse trying to convince everyone she's still on top. No. You can have the obelisk.

<Cmd. Vambrace squints her eyes, she leans back in her chair and places the briefcase on the table. A32-4 reaches for her pistol.>

O5-12The Consul: If you are going to pick that up, it better be to suck on the barrel and off yourself. Let the lady be, girl.

<A32-4 frowns and straightens her back. She looks ahead again.>

O5-12The Consul: Go on.

<Cmd. Vambrace opens the briefcase and retrieves a few polaroids of SCP-9070-Delta. A group of presumed Insurgency agents are gathered around it. She hands the pictures to O5-12The Consul and raises an eyebrow.>

Cmd. Vambrace: I suppose you speak of the anti-anomalous structures?

<O5-12The Consul looks at the pictures. He nods in an exaggerated manner after a few moments.>

O5-12The Consul: That's the one! You can have it. And the rest of that hellhole it's in.

Cmd. Vambrace: You are giving us… the entire rainforest?

O5-12The Consul: Sure, why not?

Cmd. Vambrace: … Why?

<O5-12The Consul bobs his head, lowers his shoulders and sighs heavily. He circles a hand as he continues speaking.>

O5-12The Consul: My people and I are busy. Don't know what you pick up on those commie radios of yours, but, y'know.

<O5-12The Consul's expression falls flat for the first time in the conversation. He leans over a bit and looks into Cmd. Vambrace's eyes.>

O5-12The Consul: They can end the anomalous. I don't think either of us wants that.

<Cmd. Vambrace raises an eyebrow. She looks towards A32-4, then back to O5-12The Consul.>

Cmd. Vambrace: I can imagine you wouldn't want it. You'd be powerless without all your shiny trinkets. You'd collapse. We'd probably thrive.

O5-12The Consul: The Brazil chapter certainly would, yes. But, let's be honest. Engineer wouldn't want it, and we both know he got your balls in his hands, red lips.

<Cmd. Vambrace shrugs.>

Cmd. Vambrace: So you trust us to protect the obelisk for you. Free of charge.

O5-12The Consul: Sure!

Cmd. Vambrace: With the resources you have.

O5-12The Consul: Maybe a bit more than what you currently have.

Cmd. Vambrace: And just trust you'd pull out of the rainforest.

O5-12The Consul: Like a responsible young lad!

<Cmd. Vambrace squints her eyes. O5-12The Consul smiles mockingly.>

Cmd. Vambrace: I have demands.

O5-12The Consul: You always do!

Cmd. Vambrace: Ammunition, rations, paratech and released D-Class.

O5-12The Consul: Certainly! We'll have to go around and lasso together those cunts, though. They've run quite amok in Michigan I hear, but you'll get your manpower. Want the latest fashion from Paris too, doll?

Cmd. Vambrace: Unnecessary. You will sign a blood contract, however.

O5-12The Consul: Fuck it, what's a little binding oath between friends, eh?

Cmd. Vambrace: Huh. Just like that. I wonder what tricks you have up your sleeves to fix this.

O5-12The Consul: Darling, I don't pull tricks out my sleeves, but I can sure put another thing inside them.

<O5-12The Consul winks. Cmd. Vambrace cringes slightly in discomfort. She places the parchment in her briefcase and stands up.>

Cmd. Vambrace: You will deliver the agreed upon assets within 3 days.

O5-12The Consul: That and a bouquet for you, sweetheart!

Cmd. Vambrace: I'll rip the contract, and thus your heart, apart if you do that.

O5-12The Consul: Fine, fine. Now walk off so I can enjoy a good view.

<Cmd. Vambrace rolls her eyes. She walks towards the door she emerged from and enters. A loud click is heard and the door immediately shifts in material, color and design.>

O5-12The Consul: God built those Brazilians so well. Anyways, has to be some whores in this crackhole, right? I'll go find a few and relax, then upload the log to the rest of the O5 Council. They're going to love this.

<O5-12The Consul winks towards the hidden camera which recorded the footage. It promptly ends.>

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-4-8: Sgt. Vestergaard's imprisonment at First Pride location

8 DAYS, 4 HOURS AND 21 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

After completing its auto-repair cycle, the drone activated again and continued to observe Sgt. Vestergaard. When it finds him, he appears to have been released from imprisonment. It is unclear what agreement Sgt. Vestergaard has come to with the First Pride for his release.

<Sgt. Vestergaard is sat on a bench outside the cell. The material is presumed to be bone of some variety with scrimshaw carvings detailing a wide variety of dinosaurs. Sgt. Vestergaard is currently looking at a group of children playing with what is presumed to be the animated skeleton of a utahraptor. It seems of sapient intellect, responding to questions with tapping its claws. Sgt. Vestergaard jolts when 1ST-3 speaks next to him.>

1ST-3: That is a brave warrior.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Shouldn't you go play with them or something?

1ST-3: I am afraid that the children have banned me from playing with them ever since I showed them that my football prowess is the one thing immune from aging.

Sgt. Vestergaard: You played a lot?

1ST-3: Snuck away from home to practice with the kids above ground. Joined a team. Almost made nationals, though I'd become a bit too noteworthy if that happened.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Just set up a football league down here, challenge the neighbors.

1ST-3: I have tried. I am too good for my opponents to enjoy themselves. A nearby tribe did suggest getting a collection of televisions and playing those video games with each other every now and then.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Sounds like fun. I suppose I hope you get that working.

<The two watches the children play for a few minutes. The utahraptor slowly rotates around a singular spot, allowing the children to jump over its tail.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: The fellow doesn't seem particularly vicious.

1ST-3: Why would he? He is a protector, if one intimidates those you are to care for, you become a warden rather than a guardian.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Are you trying to tell us that we're not doing the whole containment thing properly? I can inform you I've heard such critique many a times.

1ST-3: Hrm. And yet you continue in your craft.

Sgt. Vestergaard: It's convenient and pays well, I don't care about the specifics, man.

<1ST-3 takes a seat next to Sgt. Vestergaard. Despite Sgt. Vestergaard appearing to be significantly taller than 1ST-3, the bench heavily sinks into the ground on 1ST-3's side.>

1ST-3: My father was much like you, I suspect. The sickness of boredom developed into a depression. He cared not for anything, he led our people into great comfort to escape the chains of his mind. We lost many a spirit in the war he waged with other dwellers.

<Sgt. Vestergaard seems occupied with the apparent weight difference between the two.>

1ST-3: We became rich, enjoyed fruits from further inland, we obtained many skeletons with great power. We became warlords, simply because not doing so would exhaust us more than bloodshed.

Sgt. Vestergaard: So I'm a warlord?

1ST-3: Maybe. I do not know you. Though our people have had to suffer many a disaster to enjoy the balance that we have now. Plagues, extinction of hunting game, war with our neighbors.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Right, yeah. Typical things you go through to appear all so wise and all that. Too bad you're about to experience another disaster.

<Sgt. Vestergaard circles a finger in the air.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Unless you let me go handle it, pops.

1ST-3: We require guarantees.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Besides the ones I've already given?

1ST-3: I demand safety for my people to move to another cavern, given this home has been compromised by your drone.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Eh, sure. I can probably convince an Overseer or two of that.

1ST-3: You speak with such casual confidence.

Sgt. Vestergaard: You get to make demands when you're an immortal who's saving magic I imagine. Otherwise, that'll be the first thing I'll have to convince them of.

1ST-3: Perhaps so.

<1ST-3 hums to himself for a bit. A skeletal nile monitor walks up to the two, wearing a basket on its back strapped in between its forelegs. It contains sandals, cargo shorts, a Colt M1911 pistol and 3 additional magazines besides the one loaded into the pistol. Sgt. Vestergaard eyes it with an unamused expression and twitches his left eye. He seems to accept its presence shortly after.>

1ST-3: Go then. I suspect if I do not let you go, you will grow devious.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Mighty good at knowing people, pops.

1ST-3: Comes with the age and profession, devil.

<Sgt. Vestergaard stands up and starts equipping the offered items.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Wonderful. Know how I can get to Dakar fast?

1ST-3: Steal a boat from the tourists or something. They've grown rather bold with their behavior here.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Sure, I'll do you a solid and destroy what I don't steal.

1ST-3: How kind of you.

<Sgt. Vestergaard places the pistol and magazines in his pockets and starts walking towards the entrance silently. The animated monitor follows him along. 1ST-3 sighs heavily and stands up, looking at the glowing orb that hangs in the cave. He quickly rots away and disappears.>

1ST-3: [DISEMBODIED] Tourists…

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-4-9: O5-5 and O5-6 inspects the headquarters of the Free Order of Nadox

7 DAYS, 18 HOURS AND 36 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Due to signal interference in Rome, Italy, the following transcript was only recently received and has thus been presented out of order. O5-5The Shadow's personal MTF, Alpha-25 "Shadow Wizards M.G." are on their way to Rome to engage in intelligence efforts in the city.

<BEGIN LOG>

<O5-6The Singularity removes a surveillance spider from one of the dozen pouches on her belt. She looks into its camera, from which the recording is captured from, and nods to herself as she confirms it to be active. She drops it to the ground, where it lands securely and starts trailing behind O5-5The Shadow, O5-6The Singularity and Karcist Bellus. The trio are followed by MTF Alpha-26, "Cybercrawler Couriers". The group is in an alleyway in central Rome, facing a dead end which Karcist Bellus has approached. He places his palm on a brick.>

Bellus: I am aware that our holy workshop may be… Grotesque to you. I ask you do not react outwardly, I do not think my people are at a capacity to handle foreign opinion on our religion.

O5-5The Shadow: Seen it all, pal. You're not spec—

<O5-6The Singularity bumps an elbow into O5-5The Shadow and looks down at him with a frown. O5-5The Shadow rolls his eyes.>

O5-6The Singularity: Of course, Karcist. Is that clear, Couriers?

<A series of pistons, mechanical whirls and ricketing can be heard as all members of Alpha-26 nods.>

O5-6The Singularity: Good. Please, go ahead Karcist. I will personally disassemble anyone who'd show your people disrespect in these troubled times.

<O5-6The Singularity slowly glances down to O5-5The Shadow in an intense manner. The latter scoffs.>

O5-5The Shadow: You're not One.

O5-6The Singularity: And you're not your father.

<O5-5The Shadow twitches his eye.>

Bellus: Very well. Let us away.

O5-5The Shadow: Curious thaumaturgy. No wonder we hadn't found your little temple— I don't think we've seen this before.

Bellus: It is… An ancient technique. I suppose it is a secret no longer.

O5-6The Singularity: How old is this temple?

Bellus: Oh, goodness… I want to say five centuries? Maybe six. Our historical records were… Burnt during fasci uprising in the early 20th century.

O5-5The Shadow: Hadn't expected any underveil organization to be affected by the rise of fascism.

Bellus: Your distinction is curious.

O5-5The Shadow: How so?

Bellus: We are not afforded the luxury to distinguish between threats. Both paranormal and normal can be lethal. It is of the same world.

<O5-6The Singularity blinks a few times in consideration. She opens her mouth to speak, but doesn't say anything.>

Bellus: We are approaching the hall. I ask you avoid touching anything, I am not sure how well your skin responds to our holy bloodstone.

O5-5The Shadow: Quite an atrocious feng shui in he—

<O5-6The Singularity places a hand on O5-5The Shadow's shoulder. The latter disperses his hand into smoke for a short moment before it re-manifests.>

Bellus: I suppose we will have many a seat free. I wonder if my people can find solace in this room yet. The Bestial Goddess must find our wavering faith insulting.

O5-6The Singularity: How many people did you use to have?

Bellus: Around 200 to 300. We are around 50 now.

Bellus: I've brought you here for a very simply purpose. Our halls do not… Respect space, so to say. This has lead to an intriguing phenomenon in our workshop.

O5-6The Singularity: Was tha—

Bellus: This is one of our many interactions with the mundane world. We can construct stone organs and use our Blessed Gift to turn it flesh. We… Sell them so that we can afford food, vices, entertainment. We only have a few people left capable of doing it, and it takes a skilled Fleshcarver a month to infuse to proper functionality into them. I fear we may have to depart from our traditions for another source of income, I'm afraid.

<O5-5The Shadow looks to O5-6The Singularity. He leans closer to her and looks up to her while he whispers.>

O5-5The Shadow: We'll have to… Contain that.

<O5-6The Singularity returns the look, but does not answer. She stares ahead, causing O5-5The Shadow to frown and do the same.>

Bellus: It's… Perhaps time we move our people away from a city dominated by the Order of Day. Perhaps we will find greater success there. Regardless.

O5-6The Singularity: This was your main area of operations, I presume?

Bellus: Indeed. It was our primary way of interacting with our God's fellow followers — the construction of statues, glass made from marrow and flesh as well as concealing doors — took place. Now, it has another, much more dire use.

O5-5The Shadow: And what would that be?

Bellus: Don't you sense it?

O5-5The Shadow: Sense wha—

<O5-5The Shadow freezes for a brief moment before he shudders. He looks up at the ceiling. His mouth slowly opens. O5-6The Singularity looks to him before she looks over her shoulder at the members of her mobile task force. She clicks her tongue at an imperceptible frequency, prompting the entire group to look around briefly before shaking her head.>

O5-5The Shadow: Sweetest, merciful God, we're under the goddamn pillar, Six.

O5-6The Singularity: What? How? When we—

Bellus: I told you these halls do not respect space.

O5-5The Shadow: Is that why, when the curse activated a week ago—

Bellus: Our halls were exposed. Seen. What remains of our people were the ones who successfully recast the ritual that hides this temple. It can only be accessed from outside, but when that failed, small cracks formed. The Executors were upon us in mere minutes. It took us ten to hide our home away.

O5-5The Shadow: But if space is different, how come—

O5-6The Singularity: Does Epsilon act like a spatial anchor? Does it attempt to force the space to comply with reality?

O5-5The Shadow: … Then this has to be the anomaly's center, right?

O5-6The Singularity: Perhaps so.

Bellus: I am ready to vacate this area. If the Jailers would allow my people to leave in peace alongside our materials, I will channel my Sacred Gift upon the ceiling and make this horrendous pillar crash down here—

O5-5The Shadow: Where we can—

O5-6The Singularity: Set up camp. Huh.

O5-5The Shadow: Does the Coalition know of this place?

Bellus: They know it exists. They cannot find it. I can seal the roof again, but once the obelisk is in here, I am not sure how well the ritual hiding these halls can be maintained.

O5-6The Singularity: … I'm calling in the Red Right Hand. Hopefully they've cleaned up enough anomalies at this point to be ready for engagement.

<O5-6The Singularity walks off towards one of the members of Alpha-26, starting a conversation exclusively in an imperceptible pitch.>

O5-5The Shadow: It'd appear you just handed us Epsilon on a silver platter, Karcist. We're more than willing to discuss the safe passage of your people in exchange for this.

<Bellus sighs with relief and smiles to O5-5The Shadow.>

Bellus: I appreciate it. Celebratory bloodwine?

O5-5The Shadow: I'd rather drink quicksilver, good friend.

Bellus: More for the journey, then.

<END LOG>

Document 5: Epsilon Pillar

It is my belief that to obtain equality between the blessed and the profane, the blessed must be disbarred.

The blessed have been granted a gift that allows them a super-mundane function. It is used to further their goals and manifest their judgement.

I do not consider their reasons for that. When one flies through air, one does not know how it is to walk. They do not choose to consider us, just like I shall not do so either.

The magic I have been educated in is said to make hatred palpable. Then I shall grant them barrages of such.

I will journey to a frozen wasteland, in a continent to the far north. It is said to be one of few convergences of lines of power. It is where the aloof and empowered will be told to mind their step, their language, their power. It is there where equity, at last, shall be achieved. It is there where I will rage.

It is there I will use all that I am to smite these insufferable empires built on the scarred backs of mundanity's population turned slaves. As they crumble, I will reckon we will have plenty of land and material to build structures to the just and working.

I hereby declare that there shall be no more masters of the arcane, no more gods to pray to.

No more trickery.

-Contranumen

Addendum 9070-5-1: Recording received from Telegana, India

8 DAYS, 9 HOURS AND 48 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Recording received from Telegana, India. No other context was supplied by the sender and no additional details were requested from them.

<BEGIN LOG>

<O5-1The Anomaly is wearing a red leather jacket, black leather pants and a long, white shirt. He is wearing a helmet shaped like a heaume, made of the same aforementioned bronze-like material. The gauntlet is rebuilt from the particles emerging from O5-1The Anomaly's sleeve, causing him to be fully armored. He walks towards the five individuals.>

O5-1The Anomaly: You're not good enough to do this.

<O5-1The Anomaly keeps walking at a slow pace.>

O5-1The Anomaly: I care little for your magics. Move aside.

O5-1The Anomaly: Are you looking to become actual— instead of staged— myth?

<O5-1The Anomaly snaps his right hand, causing particles emerging from his leather jacket to form a protective structure to his right at the exact moment that a command is yelled from the forest.>

O5-1The Anomaly: So be it.

<O5-1The Anomaly suddenly turns his head, noticing the Steelchain Dagger operatives approaching him, despite the assailants not emitting sound. As bronze-like particles flow out of O5-1The Anomaly's sleeve, he switches his sidearm to his left hand as the particles form into a broadsword in his now free hand. He positions the sword in front of him and aims his sidearm at it for about 2 seconds while making minor adjustments to the aim. When he fires, three out out of twelve assailants collapse.>

[ASSAILANT STARTS YELLING, GIVEN PRESUMED STEELCHAIN DAGGER AFFILIATION, THEY'VE BEEN CODENAMED CBG-1. WHEN COMMUNICATING AMONG EACH OTHER, THE CHURCH OF THE BROKEN GOD ASSASSINS SPEAK ITALIAN.]

CBG-1: Magic isn't working on him! Guns and bullets, sorcerers!

<O5-1The Anomaly is engaged by three Steelchain Dagger assailants in melee. One of them tosses a dagger attached to a chain by the pommel around O5-1The Anomaly's leg. O5-1The Anomaly whispers something akin to a command, which causing particles to emerge from his pant legs. The particles disintegrates the chain and follows the half of the chain attached to the assailant's forearm. The particle breaks down the forearm over 5 seconds, causing the individual to scream. Due to their anomalous sound suppression, this cannot be heard.>

CBG-1: Guns! Guns!

CBG-2: [Italian] We have to go, nine of us are down! Let them clean the mess up!

GOC-2: [French] Rifles have taken a hit, requesting covering fire!

GOC-1: [French] Alright, let's try the heavy guns! Fire!

<O5-1The Anomaly takes a deep breath. Immediately before a rocket launcher is fired, he fires his sidearm and hits the rocket launcher operator in the shin, causing the individual to lean over and fire the rocket diagonally downwards. The ensuing explosion distracts and scatters the platoon of 40 Global Occult Coalition soldiers right as he hits the ground with a cushioning roll. When he stands back up, he has reloaded his firearm and starts firing at specific personnel, neutralizing 14 soldiers with a shot each. All of them are hit through the eyes or mouth. While he lays on the ground, the particles forms another protective barrier from the previous one.>

GOC-2: [French] He's down, he's down! Get him while we can!

GOC-3: [French] All heavy ordinance operators are down!

GOC-4: [French] Flamethrower, flamethrower!

O5-1The Anomaly: You're done. Piss off, mages.

<O5-1The Anomaly points down the road as a gesture for the group to leave. The center-most individual spits on the road, causing a wall of fire to emerge. It starts slowly move down the dirt road, despite having nothing to burn from. O5-1The Anomaly sighs and walks towards the wall of fire. Six different barrages of fire, enhanced in volume as they pass through the wall, explodes in front of O5-1The Anomaly. He effortlessly walks through the blasts, unaffected by the energy. He reloads his firearm with a new magazine and fires towards the group. The bullets hit against the center-most individual's barrier which the caster focuses on maintains. O5-1The Anomaly's gunfire hits the same spot repeatedly, right in front of the individual's head, a total of nine times. On the tenth time, the thaumaturge cannot sustain the barrier, causing it to shatter. He expires immediately after as a bullet enters through his forehead.>

O5-1The Anomaly: Final warning.

<O5-1The Anomaly looks towards the Global Occult Coalition's location, spotting a large, green obelisk — SCP-9070-Beta. O5-1The Anomaly removes a mobile phone from his pocket, a Nokia 3310, and presses three buttons. He starts walking towards SCP-9070-Beta as the phone is dialing a call. The receiver answers the call, but remains quiet.>

O5-1The Anomaly: SCP-9070-Beta has been secured. Standing by for reinforcements.

<O5-1The Anomaly snaps his fingers, causing the recording to stop.>

<END LOG>

^{SCP-9070-Beta}

AFTERWORD: Estimated casualties and losses:

Belligerent Losses

32 GOC soldiers
- 2 Lieutenant-class
- 5 Sergeant-class
- 25 Private-class
8 CBG operatives
1 thaumaturge
$2.1mil in equipment
- 49 Marshall AR-S4s
- 8 Marshall PDP44s
- 56 Logarithmic kevlar battle-armor suits
- 92 Fragment grenades
- 2 Holysteel Gravity-Pull grenades
SCP-9070-Beta

Foundation Losses

2 Beretta M9 15-round magazines

Addendum 9070-5-2: Dr. Wrenna's interrogation

8 DAYS, 13 HOURS AND 17 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Following Dr. Wrenna making contact with a Dakar local, now known to be known Serpent's Hand member Jas Weißenwrachz, contact was lost and the signal to the drone was interrupted. Following several attempts to send activation signals to the drone, it suddenly regained function independently.

FOREWORD: [ERROR: MEMORY CORRUPTED. RESTARTING RECORDING. PREVIOUS DATA FAILED TO SEND AND IS CONSIDERED LOST.]

<BEGIN LOG>

<Dr. Wrenna slowly gains consciousness. He is tied to a chair in a dusty library. The drone scans the surroundings. A man wearing a green, open robe stands in front of him — individual is identified as Weißenwrachz.>

Dr. Wrenna: Wh— How did you…

Weißenwrachz: A wizard may be out of useful spells, but I can assure you we're never out of options.

<Dr. Wrenna blinks rapidly and sways from side to side. He mumbles something inaudible, before speaking up.>

Dr. Wrenna: How did you— know that I was—

Weißenwrachz: The drone you have with you. Cloaking technology? Quite crafty, hard to hit too. It took me a while to discover it, but when I did…

<Weißenwrachz winks towards the drone. The lens vibrates.>

Weißenwrachz: Anyways, Jailer. I do know that I have little precious time to communicate with you, so why don't you start speaking about why you're here without reinforcements.

Dr. Wrenna: Do you— do you have water?

Weißenwrachz: Do I—?

<Weißenwrachz tilts his head backwards and sighs. He rummages through his robe's inner pockets. His arm seems to reach further than should be possible. He retrieves a Dasani water bottle and tosses it to Dr. Wrenna. It softly collides with Dr. Wrenna's forehead and rolls off onto the floor. Dr. Wrenna twitches an eye.>

Weißenwrachz: Whoops. Anyways, now that that's handled, let's focus up. What are you planning? Are you with the Exterminators?

Dr. Wrenna: The… Exter— oh! You're referring to the Coalition? No.

<Dr. Wrenna smiles apologetically.>

Dr. Wrenna: I'm sort of here to… Ensure they do not obtain control of this one obel—

Weißenwrachz: The Cursed Pillar of the Mage-Breaker.

Dr. Wrenna: Yeah, sure, not sure if that's what we call it in our documentation, but I'm flexible. The Hand must be rather slow on intel if you don't know the Foundation opposes the Coalition in this matter.

<Weißenwrachz squints. He averts his eyes from Dr. Wrenna momentarily.>

Weißenwrachz: We're a bit occupied, is all.

<Dr. Wrenna furrows his eyebrows. He leans back in the chair and crosses his legs.>

Dr. Wrenna: With what… What could possibly make that the case? The Hand's mode of transportation is near unriva—

<Dr. Wrenna pauses, his mouth is left agape as he seems to contemplate something. Weißenwrachz growls a curse under his breath that the drone does not have the technological capacity to record.>

Dr. Wrenna: The bloody wave of anti-anomalous radiation wiped out the Ways, didn't it?

<Weißenwrachz inhales sharply. He pauses for a brief moment before continuing the conversation.>

Weißenwrachz: So if you're not with the Coalition, what's your purpose here? Espionage?

Dr. Wrenna: Man, I'm like, a chemist. I don't know the first thing about being a spy.

Weißenwrachz: That explains why you were so easy to get the drop on. Yet it doesn't explain the nullification spell around you…

Dr. Wrenna: Couldn't tell you the first thing about it either. You know as much as I do.

Weißenwrachz: Curious. You don't seem to be a mage, and yet…

<Weißenwrachz pulls a wand out from his robe's sleeve, in the same motion as he draws it, he creates a projectile of thaumaturgic energy that rapidly approaches Dr. Wrenna. The anomaly that nullifies non-biological threats activates, invalidating the spell before it can hit Dr. Wrenna.>

Weißenwrachz: An incredibly atypical abjuration spell. Or is it even a spell? I cannot quite tell.

Dr. Wrenna: Look, let me level with you. I'm here to ensure that the Coalition and the Children does not obtain control of the pillar. If anything, I'd prefer for your outfit to control the damn thing.

<Weißenwrachz lets out an amused snort.>

Weißenwrachz: The Jailers would never relent control.

Dr. Wrenna: We are in very similar situations, man. Our hands are tied too.

Weißenwrachz: How so?

<Dr. Wrenna shrugs.>

Dr. Wrenna: I can't tell you. But I can lend you a helping hand. I have two, uhh, demons. I think.

<Weißenwrachz raises an eyebrow and sheaths his wand inside his robe's sleeve again. He looks Dr. Wrenna up and down.>

Weißenwrachz: You do not strike me as a demonologist.

Dr. Wrenna: I'm not. I'm simply using the assets granted to me by one.

Weißenwrachz: How do you call them?

<Dr. Wrenna bobs his head left and right. He forms a smile.>

Dr. Wrenna: Typically Ms. Maskmaker is incredibly vigilant of spells being cast, and well— my anomaly being activated.

Weißenwrachz: …

<Weißenwrachz pulls out two wands, one from each sleeve, just in time before a blue energy fills the room. Afrastella Maskmaker breaks through the door of the library in her disguised form, a girl around 9 years of age wearing a pink shirt.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: Hands off the mortal, wizard. You shan't jeopardize my contract.

<Weißenwrachz points both of the wand at Afrastella Maskmaker. He slowly lowers one of them and lets out a prolonged confused vocalization.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: Ah. Of course.

Weißenwrachz: Curious. A Duskbringer of Bherrhir, under the Jailers? How the mighty have fallen!

Afrastella Maskmaker: A temporary situation, I can assure you. They will become my puppets in due time. Disarm yourself, pathetic mortal. You will know the true extent of my wrath otherwise.

<Afrastella Maskmaker lowers herself slightly and starts channeling thaumaturgic energy into blue orbs between her fingers.>

Weißenwrachz: I'd like to see you try, witch-demon!

<Weißenwrachz's wands are engulfed in bright lightning that reaches his arms. The thaumaturgic energy in the room causes a few books and pieces of paper to circle around the two in an apparent vortex.>

Dr. Wrenna: Look, look— can you—

<Dr. Wrenna struggles against his restraints. As he applies force to them that'd otherwise cause irritation to his wrists, his anomaly causes the rope to burst. He stands up.>

Dr. Wrenna: Can we calm down? Let us calm down. I really want all of us in peak health to deal with the Scarlet Society and the Coalition.

<Afrastella Maskmaker cants her head sideways to look at Dr. Wrenna, then returns to stare Weißenwrachz down. The latter groans and looks around, seemingly inspecting his circumstances.>

Weißenwrachz: Let's pretend this isn't a play for control of the Anti-Magic Obelisk. How are you certain that the Duskbringer demon here isn't going to turn on you?

<Afrastella Maskmaker scoffs.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: As if that mortal was capable of bringing my schemes to halt. No, it is not him who I am bound to.

<Weißenwrachz raises one of his wands to his head, scratching his hair. The electric currents causes his ponytail to levitate.>

Weißenwrachz: If not him, then what master are you a servant for?

Afrastella Maskmaker: I simply know her as The Summoner.

<Weißenwrachz frowns deeply. He stops channeling thaumaturgic energy through his wands, causing Afrastella Maskmaker to lower her hands with a shudder.>

<5 seconds pass, the silence is interrupted by Weißenwrachz sighing deeply.>

Weißenwrachz: Look. How the hell do you want us to control the pillar with, what? Us three?

Dr. Wrenna: Four. Potentially five.

Weißenwrachz: Right.

Afrastella Maskmaker: Underestimate me not, mortals.

Dr. Wrenna: I'd never, Ms. Maskmaker. But our numbers could, in common theory at least, be overrun by the Coalition's numbers and the Children's magic. I'm not… Incredibly useful in combat either. A mere soldier, perhaps.

Weißenwrachz: I'd not even have a clue about where they're located. Every time I go outside I have to shake three Scarlet Society warlocks off my trail. Their numbers must be incredible to cover Dakar like that.

Dr. Wrenna: … Well.

Afrastella Maskmaker: We have the wisdom for such. Can you summon more mortals?

Weißenwrachz: With… Difficulty. I can perhaps open a Way. But it'd become an immediate beacon for all who are magically inclined. It'd also take time that can very much be reacted upon.

Dr. Wrenna: I mean— if we know where the Scarlet Society are located, surely we can form a plan to create a Way as far away as possible from them, or even like— sabotage them, right?

Weißenwrachz: It'd help if we knew where the Executioners wer—

<Tarel'ka the Gilded enters the room, carrying an inebriated male over his shoulder. Tarel'ka the Gilded smiles widely.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: HERE YOU ARE. I'D APOLOGIZE FOR BEING SLOW TO REACT, BUT YOU'D NEVER GUESS WHO I JUST DRANK ALL NIGHT WITH.

<Tarel'ka the Gilded tosses a name tag to Dr. Wrenna, who catches it after fumbling it thrice. He looks at it. It reads "Commander Vaine"²⁸. Dr. Wrenna slowly looks up to Tarel'ka the Gilded with a quizzical look.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: ALRIGHT. WHAT ARE WE SCHEMING. USE SIMPLE WORDS, I DON'T REALLY CARE THAT MUCH.

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-5-3: Sgt. Vestergaard's arrival in Dakar

8 DAYS, 15 HOURS AND 38 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Sgt. Vestergaard managed to obtain a motorboat which he used to travel north to Dakar. After he made landfall on the shore south of Dakar, Sgt. Vestergaard proceeded to acquire additional clothing and moved towards a safehouse he presumably had knowledge of — the same safehouse where Adaline Carpenter was interrogated by Agent Nunya of MTF Alpha-25 "Shadow Wizard M.G."

<BEGIN LOG>

<Sgt. Vestergaard approaches the safehouse. It is notably in an abandoned housing district that was condemned due to Foundation interference in 1983. It has remained mostly uninhabited since. Sgt. Vestergaard approaches the safehouse from an angle where Agent Nunya's decapitated head and the broken window cannot be seen. He whistles as he opens the door and observes the scene.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: —hva' helvede?

<Sgt. Vestergaard pushes the door open. It creaks loudly. Adaline Carpenter is sitting on a chair with bandages wrapped around her torso. She seems to fall in and out of consciousness every few seconds. Sgt. Vestergaard raises his eyebrows in mild surprise and walks inside. He glances at the remains of Agent Nunya, covered by flies, as he passes through the room to place a bag containing water and food on a clean part of the kitchenette counter. He retrieves a bottle of water and walks past Carpenter, places the bottle in her lap as he goes to close the door.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: You've thrown quite a party in here, missus. You awake?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Whoa, big girl, eh?

Carpenter: Who— are—

<Sgt. Vestergaard jabs Carpenter in the stomach. She inhales sharply and keels over, with her fall being interrupted by Sgt. Vestergaard who slowly moves her towards the chair she came from.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: How about you save the heroics for a time you aren't completely battered. Want a sandwich?

<Sgt. Vestergaard slowly lowers Carpenter onto the seat and pats her on the head twice. He walks over to the bag and rummages through it.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: I got ham and cheese, ham and cheese, uh, ham and cheese. Four cheeses…

<Carpenter coughs in dry, small bursts and groans out in pain, presumably from the broken rib she has sustained.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Not a fan of four cheese I suppose, ham and cheese it is. Where did you toss that bottle of water?

<Sgt. Vestergaard drops a store-bought ham and cheese sandwich with gluten-free bread onto Carpenter's lap. He walks over to retrieve the water bottle and places it in the same place. He retrieves the only other intact chair and places it in front of Carpenter. He seats himself down.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: You look like shit. When did you apply those bandages?

<Carpenter takes a ragged breath, seemingly preparing to answer. She stares Sgt. Vestergaard down, who in turn winks at her. She growls under her breath.>

Carpenter: Yester— day.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Damn, shoddy work. They look a week old. Did the old boy over there—

<Sgt. Vestergaard gestures to the liquefied MTF operative.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: —do your makeup or something? Quite a fan of the running mascara, it gives "regretting my life choices at 3 in the morning".

Sgt. Vestergaard: I do also believe that the guy has to be Foundation, which makes me wonder why he's just been left here. Guess you were too much of a risk to walk in on, eh?

<Carpenter tries to toss the empty water bottle at Sgt. Vestergaard, but it slips out of her hands and is dropped on the floor.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: You're quite a savage woman. Normally someone would thank a savior.

Carpenter: I am— my own savior.

<Carpenter stretches her fingers on her armored hand. Sgt. Vestergaard rolls his eyes.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Look, you can kill me. You absolutely can. But I'm going to come back.

<Carpenter raises an eyebrow.>

Carpenter: Im— possible.

Sgt. Vestergaard: No, truly. I swear by Christian den Syvende. Like, go ahead and try. It's not like you're in a condition to run anyways. Just— let me get my shirt off so I don—

[4 MINUTE AND 39 SECONDS CUT FOR BREVITY.]

Sgt. Vestergaard: Okay, lady. Yeah. Just ruin the most comfortable white shirt I've found.

Carpenter: How—

Sgt. Vestergaard: I simply do not care to explain anymore, okay? I've had to spin a version of it thrice in the last 24 hours.

<Sgt. Vestergaard rises to his feet and picks up the chair, placing it in front of Carpenter. He walks over to the bag.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: I'm changing your bandages, if you're going to moan about it, feel free to kill me again. But you will get my blood all over the first aid.

<Carpenter lets out a prolonged growl.>

Carpenter: I do not trust you to.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Whatever, lady. I have a bleeding heart for helping those in need. I think.

<Sgt. Vestergaard retrieves a bottle of alcohol and a roll of bandages, he turns around and approaches Carpenter who flexes her fingers.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: I'm going to peel that shoddy bandage off you, so don't blast me apart, alright?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Quite impressive how you've survived this amount of blood loss. The infection also seems to be somewhat kept in check, despite the surroundings.

Carpenter: Hate.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Hm?

Carpenter: Hate. I am a wielder— of curses. I hate the infection— it stops.

<Sgt. Vestergaard purses his lips and nods slowly. It is unclear if he is convinced. He starts cleaning the wound, causing Carpenter to flinch several times.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Thorstein, by the way. You got a name?

Carpenter: Not for— you.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Lovely. Sour bitch it is.

<Carpenter exhales in an annoyed manner.>

Carpenter: Adaline.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Wonderful! You sound American, well that and the—

<Sgt. Vestergaard looks around the room.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: —signature handling of issues in foreign territories gives it away, though. What are you doing here?

<Carpenter doesn't respond.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Not a chatty one, are we? Alright.

<Sgt. Vestergaard wraps the clean bandages around Carpenter's torso.>

Sgt Vestergaard: Alright, shouldn't be too tight on the ribs. But you really ought to get somewhere safe to heal, though.

Carpenter: It matters little. My King will take me when he wishes.

<Sgt. Vestergaard squints his eyes in thought. He exclaims in realization.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Oh! You're one of those Scarlet culti—!

Carpenter: Society.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Right, of course. Socialist. That makes sense. That hateful aura of vengeance should've given it away, only seen it in accountants before now— are you an accountant?

Carpenter: No. I am a warlock of vengeful and grand purpose.

Sgt. Vestergaard: What a charming portfolio, I suppose it isn't entirely helpful in this economy. What had you get roped up into that?

<Carpenter averts her gaze and stares off into the distance. She does not respond.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Mhm. We all got our weak points. My bad.

<Sgt. Vestergaard steps back to bag he brought along. He removes a shirt from it and approaches Carpenter.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Can you raise your arms over your head?

Carpenter: No.

<Sgt. Vestergaard rolls the shirt up. He places the shirt over Carpenter's head and unfurls it over her torso.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: There we go. Now you're almost well off. We really ought you to get you lying down, bu—

Carpenter: You are tired, aren't you?

<Sgt. Vestergaard perks an eyebrow.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: No, since you just killed me I just woke up from what's equivalent of a proper sleep.

<Carpenter runs a thumb over her cheek, wiping away some blood and cosmetics.>

Carpenter: My Liege lets me see kindred emotions. It is how we find suitable candidates for the Society.

sigil%20of%20the%20scarlet%20society.png

^{Sigil of the Scarlet Society, symbol of a subset of the Children of the Scarlet King most active in the Maghreb and Iberian Peninsula.}

Carpenter: You are like us.

<Sgt. Vestergaard looks at Carpenter for 5 seconds. He shrugs and approaches the mattress at the corner of the room. As he lifts it up, several insects come crawling out, 3.6% of which have not been documented by mundane science before.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: You folks have a place I can drop you off at? Seems like you're not going to survive laying down here.

Carpenter: You have gone rogue from your group, have you not?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Is that an occult way to say no or something?

Carpenter: You are afraid of your masters finding out. Or you are afraid of yourself. Perhaps that is why you seem to be… Utterly aloof.

<Sgt. Vestergaard inhales sharply.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Look, lady. I'm just trying to help you, but if you're going to prosel—

Carpenter: You have a scheme regarding My Lord's gift. The obelisk.

<Sgt. Vestergaard falls quiet. He inhales deeply and slowly turns to face Carpenter.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: I sure hope you pick your next words carefully. I don't appreciate being accused of treason while I'm being watched.

<Carpenter chuckles. She starts channeling thaumaturgic energy through her gauntlet.>

Carpenter: Oh, we are always watched. My eyes are my Liege's.

[SUSTAINED CRITICAL DAMAGE. AUTO SELF-REPAIR INITIATION FAILED. REQUEST FOR AID FAILED. SHUTDOWN INEV—]

<End Log>

Addendum 9070-5-4: Dr. Wrenna's task force liberate Global Occult Coalition assets

8 DAYS, 17 HOURS AND 53 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

In order to weaken Coalition presence in Dakar, Afrastella Maskmaker proposed sabotaging various bases of operations before creating the Way to obtain a method of reinforcement. Due to Coalition and Scarlet fortification around SCP-9070-Gamma and the intelligence gained from a high-ranking Coalition officer, it became apparent that a weapons depot containing anti-thaumaturgic weaponry was left on low security. Dr. Wrenna decided to act on this intelligence.

<BEGIN LOG>

<Dr. Wrenna, Afrastella Maskmaker, Tarel'ka the Gilded and Jas Weißenwrachz approach the weapons depot located in a Coalition-owned apartment building in Mermoz-Sacré-Cœur. A couple passes by the quartet, with Dr. Wrenna in cargo shorts and a Hawai'ian shirt, Afrastella Maskmaker in a long dress and with a cross-body bag, Tarel'ka the Gilded wearing a casual business outfit and Jas Weißenwrachz wearing an open green robe and copper jewelry.>

Weißenwrachz: Bonsoir, les amis.

<The couple quietly greets Weißenwrachz back and walks away at a heightened pace.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: SMOOTH JOB, MORTAL. THEY WON'T SUSPECT A THING.

Weißenwrachz: The Jailers will use their vile elixirs to wipe memory regardless. This is nothing.

Afrastella Maskmaker: Quite an useful substance, indeed. One day, I must simply learn the secrets needed to produce such.

Dr. Wrenna: Look, can we— ah, whatever. Ms. Maskmaker, you're, uhh. Good at this, right?

Afrastella Maskmaker: You're adorable, but yes.

<Afrastella Maskmaker runs her thumb and index finger over her eyes. They start glowing in cyan as she eyes the building. She slowly looks down beneath the building.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: I am sensing— areas without any magic in them, under this structure.

Weißenwrachz: Dead casting zones?

Dr. Wrenna: I do believe the proper term is reality anchor. They must be applying mathematical formulae to reinforce baseline existence.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: THAT'S THEIR VAULT, THEN. EVERY PROPER HARRAAL KNOWS THAT THE MOST KEY PART OF PROTECTING YOUR VALUABLES IS ENSURING THAT COWARDLY THIEVES CANNOT TRICK THEIR WAY INSIDE WITH CHEATING MAGICS.

<Afrastella Maskmaker and Tarel'ka the Gilded exchange a glare towards each other.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: THAT'LL BE WHERE WE HAVE TO HIT THEM.

Dr. Wrenna: Wonderful. Their entrance has to be inside the building itself, any clue as to how we can get inside without tripping alarms?

Weißenwrachz: I am afraid that the Executioners knowing of our presence is more of a when than an if. I can perhaps ritualize a delay on their technology, but knowing these murderers, they probably have an alarm for magic, too.

Afrastella Maskmaker: I shall cloak you, mortal. I know little of how to interfere with human constructs.

<Afrastella Maskmaker and Weißenwrachz start casting their ritual. Tarel'ka the Gilded pulls his sleeve back and eyes the four gold watches on his forearm. He frowns.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: YOU KNOW, GEORGE-BOY. THESE COALITION FOLKS ARE QUITE GOOD AT HANDLING OUR KIND, BUT IT DOES SURPRISE ME THAT THEY HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING WITH THE PILLARS YET. FROM WHAT I UNDERSTOOD, THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO END THEIR IDEA OF MAGIC. WHY HAVEN'T THEY DONE THAT YET?

<Dr. Wrenna opens his mouth to speak, but squints his eyes.>

Dr. Wrenna: You know, from what I understood, they only needed one pillar to work from. Given they've controlled the one here for a bit, you'd think they'd have done SOMETHING at this point.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: THEY'RE ALLIED WITH WARLOCKS, AREN'T THEY? THOSE SOCIETY FOLKS.

Dr. Wrenna: Well, I think it's the Children of the One Who Shan't Be Named, a few factions from the Church of the Broken God… Perhaps local groups and persons of interest? I'm not sure.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: I WAS THINKING, RIGHT? MAYBE THEY'RE IN, UH, DISAGREEMENT. FROM WHAT I KNOW OF THE SUMMONER, SHE'D SURELY HAVE SOMEONE GATHERING MORE INTELLIGENCE TO KNOW FOR CERTAIN WHAT IS HAPPENING. HAVE YOU RECEIVED ANY CALL FROM HER?

Dr. Wrenna: Now that you mention it, not really, no. They must still be in the dark? Handling escaped anomalies and all that.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: OR, YOU KNOW. MAYBE YOUR OWN RANKS AREN'T AS SECURE AS YOU'D LIKE THEM TO BE.

<Dr. Wrenna blinks a few times.>

Dr. Wrenna: Huh. I suppose that information might be kept tight to avoid any counterintelligence efforts from the Coalition's side.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: SURE, WHATEVER COUNTERINTELLIGENCE MEANS.

Afrastella Maskmaker: I thought "seeding doubt" was our trick, Hoarding One?

Tarel'ka the Gilded: AND I THOUGHT REMAINING QUIET WAS ONE OF YOUR TRICKS TOO. WHY DON'T YOU PERFORM IT, WITCH?

Weißenwrachz: Alright, circle's done, incantation inscribed— let me cast the spell. We'll have about half an hour before the delay is up. Should be plenty of time to grab what we need and decimate the rest.

<Weißenwrachz removes his wands from his sleeves. He points one of them at the circle. Afrastella Maskmaker starts channeling obfuscating thaumaturgy.>

Weißenwrachz: Ready?

Dr. Wrenna: When you are.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: GOLD AND COIN, FRIENDS. AND RAT.

Afrastella Maskmaker: How charming. Let us away.

<Tarel'ka the Gilded rolls up his other sleeve, revealing three more gold watches. He walks up to the front door of the apartment building and tries to open the door. Upon discovering it to be locked, he forms a fist and hits the door with such velocity that the door breaks off the hinges and lock and flies 3 meters into the building, neutralizing an unarmed Coalition security guard by blunt force trauma. Tarel'ka shakes his hand and looks inside the room.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: ALRIGHT, THE FIRST DIVISION OF THIS STRUCTURE IS CLEAR. COME ALONG.

<Tarel'ka the Gilded steps inside and waves the rest of the group along. The trio follows after a few exchanged glances.>

Dr. Wrenna: Impressive strength, Mr. Gilded.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: OH YEAH, IT IS SORT OF OUR THING. STRONG BODIES AND ALL THAT. ANYWAYS, I'M NOT SEEING ANYTHING IN HERE, YOU SAID IT WAS BENEATH THE HUMAN CONSTRUCTION, MASKMAKER?

Afrastella Maskmaker: That is correct. Perhaps they have a portal here for traversing downwards.

Weißenwrachz: Well, something of the sort.

Weißenwrachz: Alright, now we go for the elevator.

Afrastella Maskmaker: Let me leave a sigil of alarm.

<Afrastella Maskmaker removes some chalk from her bag and draws on the wall next to the door. Dr. Wrenna approaches the doors to the elevator and presses the call button.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: INSUFFERABLE LACK OF VALUABLES HERE. WHERE ARE THE PAINTINGS WITH SILVER FRAMES. THE URNS OF ANCIENT PASTS. WEAPONS OF GREAT WARRIORS.

Dr. Wrenna: I don't think we have time to teach you about the middle economic class, Mr. Gilded.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: WHATEVER. I HAVE THE REST OF ETERNITY TO ACCRUE WEALTH AND LEARN.

<The elevator arrives and sounds a small bell. Dr. Wrenna steps inside and eyes the buttons.>

Dr. Wrenna: Huh, only goes up— although… Everyone, mind stepping in?

Tarel'ka the Gilded: INFURIATINGLY LITTLE SPACE IN THIS VEHICLE.

Afrastella Maskmaker: Perhaps if you didn't have a disguise so large, you'd fit into more places.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: OH, SILENCE YOURSELF. IF YOU'RE GOING TO CRY LIKE A MORTAL TODDLER, AT LEAST SHAPESHIFT INTO ONE.

<Weißenwrachz sighs and leans closer to Dr. Wrenna and whispers to him.>

Weißenwrachz: Never accept Duskborn from different patrons ever again.

<Dr. Wrenna nods slowly with a thin smile. The elevator comes to a halt and opens the doors, revealing a basement with crates and shelves. In the middle, a round table with five seats surrounding it is occupied by the same amount of security personnel playing a game of poker. Notably, one of the guards has a literal ace up their sleeve that falls out as the Coalition group notices Dr. Wrenna's group.>

Dr. Wrenna: … We're here to relieve you from the shift?

Tarel'ka the Gilded: I FIGURE YOU LOT ARE RATHER WORTHLESS WITHOUT MAGIC. GO BACK UP, IF YOU CAN— I'LL TAKE CARE OF THESE WEAKLINGS.

Dr. Wrenna: Don't have to tell me twice! Let's go!

<Dr. Wrenna scans the keycard again. As he does, Tarel'ka the Gilded walks backwards, still covering the group. The door closes behind him and the elevator goes back up.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: I suppose the fool has some use. At least he's immune to spellbreaking.

Weißenwrachz: Those are quite powerful anchors— usually you can still cast basic spells if you have a focus and training, but—

Afrastella Maskmaker: I wonder what they deem so important to protect…

Dr. Wrenna: Alright, can't hear gunfire anymore. Let's… Descend and hope they haven't killed Mr. Gilded.

Afrastella Maskmaker: I highly doubt they possess the capability to pierce his thick skull. Has to be mostly solid.

Weißenwrachz: Pistol at the ready, just in case.

<Dr. Wrenna draws his sidearm and points it at the door. His hands tremble a bit. Weißenwrachz places his hand on Dr. Wrenna's gun and nods to him.>

Weißenwrachz: Don't worry, we'll hide behind the demon if they're still down there.

Afrastella Maskmaker: … What?

<The doors open once more, revealing Tarel'ka the Gilded surrounded by the expired security personnel. He is in the process of transferring assets from the table to his inner pockets.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: THESE ARE MINE.

Dr. Wrenna: … Sure.

Weißenwrachz: Did you spot any totems of dispelling?

Tarel'ka the Gilded: CURIOUSLY ENOUGH, NO. JUST A BUNCH OF INVENTORY TO MY EYES.

Afrastella Maskmaker: Then they'd have to be located in these containers, no?

<Dr. Wrenna steps over one of the corpses who had its windpipe removed. He approaches one of the crates and removes a lid from it by forcing his hand against it harshly, activating his anomaly with causes the wood to disintegrate. Inside, a collection of Marshall AR-S4s, assault rifles made to fire Marshall La Méprise .223 rounds that have standard logarithm carved into the bullets, causing suppression of anomalous material they impact with.>

Dr. Wrenna: Oh, these are useful, especially if we're going up against thaumaturges. Can you put this into the elevator, Mr. Gilded?

Tarel'ka the Gilded: OH, WHY. WHEN YOU ASK SO NICELY, UNLIKE SOMEONE, I'D LOVE TO.

<Tarel'ka the Gilded approaches the crate and picks it up. He squints at Afrastella Maskmaker as he passes by her.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: Let us check further in. It is there I sense the dead zones.

<Weißenwrachz pulls out a pistol from his robe. It has "NEVER OUT OF OPTIONS" carved into the side of the handle. The group waits for Tarel'ka the Gilded to return before moving further in. Dr. Wrenna periodically checks the content of the crates — they mostly consist of assault rifles, grenades, body armor and fabricated currency. The group nears a set of crates pushed up against the wall at the end. Each one of them is secured by chains. Three crates appear to have been recently moved, as seen by the three clean squares free of dust.>

Dr. Wrenna: How odd, I didn't know people actually did that. Chained up crates. Seems like some of them have already gone somewhere, too.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: STAND BACK, I'LL OPEN THIS.

<Tarel'ka the Gilded approaches the crates. He grabs one of the chains and pulls at them violently, until the metal snaps. He rips the lid of the crate off and looks inside. He stumbles backwards and lets out a pained roar after a few seconds.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: DAMNABLE, WHAT IN THE SEVEN LIEGES IS THIS.

Dr. Wrenna: Let me… See.

<Tarel'ka the Gilded steps backwards and rubs his eyes. Weißenwrachz frowns as Dr. Wrenna approaches the crane, mumbling something inaudible under his breath. Afrastella Maskmaker takes a few cautious steps backwards.>

Dr. Wrenna: Holy shit. I think I figured out why they haven't attempted to activate the pillar. The GOC aren't trying to empower it. This is— way stronger than what Alpha let off. They're not using the pillar as intended, they're—

<Dr. Wrenna slowly reaches down into the crate. He pulls out a shard of SCP-9070-Gamma.>

Dr. Wrenna: —mining and refining it.

<Afrastella Maskmaker hisses and turns around. Tarel'ka the Gilded turns around as well.>

Weißenwrachz: … But why would they not just activate it? From what you told me, the Jailers gathered intelligence that they potentially desired to wipe away all magic from this world.

<Dr. Wrenna blinks.>

Dr. Wrenna: Maybe it isn't just this—

<The basement rumbles, causes all four persons in the group to stumble. Dr. Wrenna struggles to hold onto the shard, but manages to catch it after a few attempts.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: Have they already reacted? Why are they using this amount of power on their own fortification?

Weißenwrachz: No wonder they already know we're here if they had refined anti-magic radioactive stones down here. It made the delaying spell weaker.

Tarel'ka the Gilded: NO TIME TO PONDER. WE HAVE TO MOVE. PLACED THAT CRATE IN THE DOOR OF THE VEHICLE, SO IT OUGHT TO AT LEAST MAKE CREATING A PATH HERE DIFFICULT. WERE THERE ANY OTHER WAYS IN?

Dr. Wrenna: Not to my—

<A crate pops open, revealing a metallic head facing away from the group. A label can be seen running down the machine's head. The robot, about 3 meters in height stands up.>

Weißenwrachz: Anderson… Robotics.

Dr. Wrenna: Oh no.

<18 more combat robots force their ways out of the crates that hold them. Once each has emerged, they all rotate their heads around to look at the group at the same time.>

Dr. Wrenna: Hey, Ms. Maskmaker. Since you can't use magic…

<Dr. Wrenna slides his sidearm towards Afrastella Maskmaker. She gingerly picks it up and looks at it with confusion. She hurries behind a crate that she crouches down behind and starts inspecting the pistol.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: Vile mortal technology. It'll have to do.

Dr. Wrenna: You're armed, Jas! Tarel'ka?!

Tarel'ka the Gilded: I DON'T NEED ANYTHING OTHER THAN MY CLAWS.

Dr. Wrenna: Right! I'm going to gather up a few of these shards!

Tarel'ka the Gilded: YOU LOT KEEP THEM DISTRACTED, I'LL TAKE THEM OUT.

Dr. Wrenna: Fucking— what now?!

<Dr. Wrenna and Tarel'ka the Gilded has taken cover behind one crate, while Afrastella Maskmaker and Weißenwrachz have crouched behind another crate on the other side.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: COULDN'T HELP BUT NOTICE SOMETHING, GEORGE-BOY. YOUR FIELD OF DISRUPTION STILL FUNCTIONS.

Dr. Wrenna: Well, maybe! But not— surely not against anti-anomaly weaponry!

Tarel'ka the Gilded: HOW DO YOU KNOW? DIDN'T YOU SAY THAT NOTHING HAS EVER SUCCESSFULLY HIT YOU.

Weißenwrachz: The more we wait, the more the remaining mechanoids arm themselves! We have to do something!

Dr. Wrenna: How would I know?! I'm holding onto the shards too, that has to—

<Tarel'ka the Gilded grabs a VLR Raycaster Mk. 6²⁹ repeating rifle from a crate and slams it into Dr. Wrenna's chest. Its impact is interrupted by Dr. Wrenna's anomaly, still active despite the anti-anomalous circumstances.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: LOOK, THAT THING YOU HAVE. IT REFLECTS YOU PRETTY WELL. YOU'RE CAREFUL, POLITE, NICE. IT KEEPS YOU SAFE, YET YOU DO NOTHING RECKLESS WITH IT.

<Tarel'ka the Gilded smiles to Dr. Wrenna, revealing all of his canines being made of gold. His eyes are a deep shade of green.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: DON'T YOU EVER GET TIRED OF THIS— REASON? THIS GENTLE APPROACH TO EVERYTHING?

<Dr. Wrenna frowns and looks down at the repeater he has been given. He takes it and checks its magazine — it is full.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: DON'T YOU WANT TO TRY AND BE GREEDY FOR ONCE, GEORGE-BOY?

<Dr. Wrenna stares ahead. He cocks the lever-action on the rifle and takes a deep breath.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: DON'T YOU WANT TO GO ABSOLUTELY INSANE FOR ONCE?

<Dr. Wrenna pushes himself to a crouching position.>

Tarel'ka the Gilded: DON'T YOU WANT TO SHOW OFF?

<Dr. Wrenna suddenly stands and spins around on his feet. He fires a round through a robot's chest area, then starts charges the next bullet by pumping the lever-action repeatedly. As he does so, a burst of bullets are fired at him, yet he manages to turn around and let his anomaly abosrb the firepower instead of hitting the gun. Once the rifle is charged again, he takes aim at another robot and hops to the side, so that it covers another robot with its form. He fires the charged rifle and shoots a bullet through two robots.>

Weißenwrachz: Annoying asshole and his gift of invulnerability, help him out!

<Weißenwrachz reloads his firearm and fires over the crate, prompting Afrastella Maskmaker to do the same. Dr. Wrenna charges the rifle and sprints down the hallway. He lets out a slightly frightened yell as he jumps and leans backwards. His anomaly activates when he'd normally impact with the ground, causing him to be carried down the hall at an increasing velocity until he impacts with a robot's legs, causing them to explode when they'd normally have collided with him. He breaks his velocity by spreading his legs and planting a foot on each sides of the elevator's opening. All of the robots have turned around to face Dr. Wrenna.>

Dr. Wrenna: That's right, let's go!

Tarel'ka the Gilded: HIS EXPRESSION OF CONFIDENCE MAY NEED WORK, BUT THAT'S ABSOLUTELY WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT.

Afrastella Maskmaker: I thought your compelling gaze wouldn't work near dead areas?

Tarel'ka the Gilded: AH LADY, YOU RELY TOO MUCH ON MAGIC. THAT WAS PURE OBSERVATION AND PERSONAL FRUSTRATION.

<Tarel'ka the Gilded uses the robots' focus on Dr. Wrenna to charge at one of them and grab it by its waist. He hoists it upwards to catch its ankles and smashes it into another robot that turns around. The remaining five robots turn to fire upon Dr. Wrenna, who's anomalous defense seems to weaken. He starts to panic just before he manages to shoot a robot theough the head, disabling its sights.>

Dr. Wrenna: Uhh, friends! I might need— help! The anti-anomalous rocks are starting to do something!

<Tarel'ka the Gilded rips the head off a robot and tosses it at another. Afrastella Maskmaker and Weißenwrachz have both run out of ammunition.>

Dr. Wrenna: I really think— that—

Tarel'ka the Gilded: HEH. GUESS I'M ALLOWED OFF THIS CONTRACT EARLY. I'LL HEAD BACK TO THE DUSKLANDS, HAVE FUN.

<Tarel'ka the Gilded collapses into a dark green dust that slowly deteriorates and disappears. Dr. Wrenna blinks a few times.>

Dr. Wrenna: He's not like—

Afrastella Maskmaker: No, unfortunately he is not dead. He has gone home.

<Weißenwrachz takes a deep breath and starts sprinting towards the elevator with the crate of assault rifles in it.>

Weißenwrachz: We have to go, mourn the aspect of want later!

<Dr. Wrenna shakes his head and stands up. He looks at the rifle given to him and inspects it. He taps his pockets and notices that they've been filled with extra magazines for it. He grins.>

Dr. Wrenna: Alright, let's go. Entrance should be clear, given that the thaumaturgic sigil you placed hasn't sounded off, right Maskmaker?

<Afrastella Maskmaker nods.>

Dr. Wrenna: Let's move this and torch the place.

<Weißenwrachz retrieves a belt with incendiary grenades on it. He looks to the two others and nods. Dr. Wrenna swipes the card as Afrastella Maskmaker enters and Weißenwrachz pulls a pin. He tosses the grenade belt into the crate he had found them in as the door closes, and the three ascend out of the basement.>

Dr. Wrenna: Holy shit.

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-5-5: Dakar report by MTF Alpha-25 "Shadow Wizard M.G."

Prior to their departure from Dakar, Senegal, Mobile Task Force Alpha-25 "Shadow Wizard M.G." were ordered to write an exhaustive report regarding the circumstances they had observed alongside their expert opinions on current and developing situations. Due to a spike in attacks on European Foundation sites by the Global Occult Coalition, Alpha-25's expertise was needed with counterintelligence efforts surrounding Rome, Italy and the general Iberian Peninsula.

DAKAR, SENEGAL 03/07/25 REPORT

Written by Cpt. Clara Miller of MTF Alpha-25

DAKAR presents an unpredictable situation that seems to escalate. SCARLET SOCIETY operatives seem to patrol most of the city in civilian clothing both for recruitment efforts, but seemingly also to establish control of the city. They are inexperienced thaumaturges who specialize in offensive spells, most often exhausting their potential for belligerent capability very quickly. This characteristic has lead to an established mantra within Alpha-25: The best time to neutralize a SCARLET SOCIETY operative is before a fight begins, or 10 seconds after.

The GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION has an auxiliary force present in DAKAR based on observations made by Alpha-25. Given GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION offensives in the Sahel and the Sahara, alongside a lack of strong groups of interest in DAKAR hostile to the GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION, our expert opinion of the GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION is that they've underestimated DAKAR.

THE SERPENT'S HAND appears to be decimated and rendered inoperational in DAKAR due to the effects of SCP-9070. The Ways used by THE SERPENT'S HAND to traverse the globally and interglobally were completely disintegrated by SCP-9070, thus preventing THE SERPENT'S HAND from reinforcing the city. However, global movements have suggested that individual SERPENT'S HAND cells are acting independently, making their movement unpredictable in the wake of SCP-9070. It is equally likely that any SCP-9070 child instance is being targeted by THE SERPENT'S HAND, and as thus there is no suggested course of action at this time regarding this Group of Interest.

We estimate a combined presence of 500 individuals hostile to THE FOUNDATION's interest in DAKAR, SENEGAL at this time.

Secure. Contain. Protect.

Addendum 9070-5-6: Dr. Wrenna's task force prepares to establish a Way

8 DAYS, 23 HOURS AND 21 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Following Dr. Wrenna's acquirement of armaments and discovery of refined SCP-9070-Gamma shards, the task force set out to prepare for the thaumaturgic procedure that would manifest a Way to the Wanderer's Library. Due to having lost Tarel'ka the Gilded, the task force had deliberated on plausible operations for successfully mobilizing potential Serpent's Hand reinforcements to achieve control of SCP-9070-Gamma.

<BEGIN LOG>

<Dr. Wrenna eyes the wall. A group of civilians pass by, prompting Weißenwrachz to turn around and whistle while he hides his wand behind his back.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: You cannot be serious.

Weißenwrachz: What, we're about to die anyways. Might have some fun.

Dr. Wrenna: Look, it's 500 people. We have magic and invulnerability.

Afrastella Maskmaker: And they may have shards of an obelisk capable of blocking your entire realm out of the fundamental force of nature known as magic.

Weißenwrachz: Agreeing with a demon is typically how you know you're on the wrong path, but I do reckon Afrastella has a valid point here. We're easily dealt with, they have access to the most powerful anti-magic material I've ever been near. We don't even have our tough guy anymore.

<Dr. Wrenna sighs.>

Dr. Wrenna: We'll have Thorstein— soon. I think. He'll probably know what to do.

Afrastella Maskmaker: I doubt it. The man made me practically unable to fly when I carried him from the Southern Icelands, he was so wrought with… Doubt. Anger. I reckon he has abandoned the mission, perhaps sought further inland.

Dr. Wrenna: I highly doubt that.

<Weißenwrachz snorts and turns around to continue applying a thaumaturgic symbol upon the wall.>

Weißenwrachz: Wouldn't be the first time that a Jailer ran from a situation just because they didn't have absolute control over it…

Afrastella Maskmaker: I believe our rate of success in securing the ritual is laughable. We'd need another caster if we were to hurry up the ritual— well, a caster of the Serpent.

Sgt. Vestergaard: What if I told you I had God's angriest woman who keeps wasting magic trying to kill me.

Dr. Wrenna: That'd be unusu—

<Sgt. Vestergaard is holding a paper cone filled with fries. It is unclear when he approached the group, the drone only registered his presence upon him vocalizing.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: How curious. I did not think you so good at sneaking.

Weißenwrachz: Nor so insufferably casual about walking up on a quickdraw wandslinger.

Dr. Wrenna: Huh, you didn't abandon us. Nice.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Why would I do that? You lot seem to have been busy, I've quite enjoyed seeing GOC operatives disguised as civilians power-walking across the city. I assume you had something to do with that apartment bloc that collapsed.

<Sgt. Vestergaard offers the paper cone to Dr. Wrenna who accepts a few fries. Afrastella Maskmaker hisses at Sgt. Vestergaard when offered, and Weißenwrachz raises a hand and shakes his head.>

Dr. Wrenna: Yes.

Sgt. Vestergaard: I assume the fine lady here was responsible for that scheme?

Afrastella Maskmaker: Nay. That was that very mortal.

<Sgt. Vestergaard blinks and eyes Dr. Wrenna up and down.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Huh. Good job. What did you get from it?

<Dr. Wrenna takes a few more offered fries and eats them while he explains, covering his mouth with his free hand.>

Dr. Wrenna: Morons are mining Gamma.

<Sgt. Vestergaard scratches his temple. He tries to offer Afrastella Maskmaker the cone again, causing her to frown.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Huh. I don't think the Scarlet Society knows that, according to the bandaged embodiement of rage I finally managed to convince to rest.

Weißenwrachz: Huh.

<Weißenwrachz seems to contemplate something, pausing his ritual. He shrugs and continues it after a 3 second delay.>

Dr. Wrenna: The Coalition doesn't tell them? According to the intel I got from Overseer Five's mobile task force, their territories are split along a neutral zone with Gamma in it. How could they possibly not know?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Well, she doesn't seem that bright, really. Maybe they don't tell their underlings?

Afrastella Maskmaker: Or their group is divided. From what I know of The Gruesome Monarch's cultists, they aren't the most particularly… Organized. Less so than—

<Afrastella Maskmaker gestures to Weißenwrachz' emblem on the back of his robe, showing a hand inside an ouroboros. Weißenwrachz doesn't seem to notice.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: —which wouldn't make it surprising that there's a schisms that is… Savorably exploitable.

Dr. Wrenna: Huh. Where is this Scarlet cultist?

Sgt. Vestergaard: I stored her away in a basement of an abandoned grocery store. She shouldn't move that far, her lung is being very intimate with one of her ribs with a wayward attitude. I was making a run for supplies when I saw the most obvious group of underveil individuals in all of West Africa.

Weißenwrachz: Pfh. You'll use your vile medication regardless, who cares what they see.

<Sgt. Vestergaard tries to offer Afrastella Maskmaker the fries again. Due to the nature of her allegiances, she is psionically encouraged to try the fry, given it is an unknown experience for Bherrhir Duskborn. She mutters something under her breath as she consumes a fry.>

Dr. Wrenna: Are we standing out too much, reckon we've been seen?

Sgt. Vestergaard: If you haven't, you will before you leave here anyways. What ARE you doing, by the way?

<Afrastella Maskmaker coughs out the fry and shakes her head.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: Obtaining magicians for our takeover.

Weißenwrachz: Wrenna here offered up Dakar to the Serpent's Hand, so…

Dr. Wrenna: I mean, that WAS our orders. So, you know, might as well help the Wanderer's Library set up their Way so they can reinforce the city.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Indeed so. Aren't those Ways notoriously easily sensed when they're put down?

Weißenwrachz: It is… A feature of the ritual. It is meant to welcome those of the sorcererous ways to partake in the knowledge of the Library. I suppose it is where the ideologies of the Serpent's Hand and the Wanderer's Library is somewhat set apart.

Afrastella Maskmaker: You believe in secrecy?

Weißenwrachz: I believe in not drawing Executor and Jailer attention because I'm mortal. I suppose The Serpent and librarians have no such concerns.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Huh. Seems like our bosses have a lot in common, then.

Weißenwrachz: I have no bosses.

<Sgt. Vestergaard shrugs. He hands off the cone of fries off to Afrastella Maskmaker and crosses his arms. Afrastella Maskmaker groans and brings the cone to her mouth, taking a bite of the fries, causing Dr. Wrenna discomfort upon seeing it.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: I suppose that just mean you are strong enough to be the boss.

Weißenwrachz: Yes. I do suppose so.

<Weißenwrachz tapes a few steps back and eyes the thaumaturgic symbol he has drawn on the wall. He looks to the group.>

^{Thaumaturgic symbol allegedly for the creation of a Way. It is believed that this is a personalized ritual that cannot be cast by other individuals, even if it was repeated properly.}

Weißenwrachz: All done here. What now?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Sur—

Dr. Wrenna: Let's place down a few more, I say. If it takes us a few minutes to prepare, we might as well throw in some decoys around town.

<Sgt. Vestergaard purses his lips. He smiles at Dr. Wrenna.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Oh, whoa. Dakar changed you.

Dr. Wrenna: … I guess. Let's get moving, we've stood out enough. Come night, we'll… Well. Get going. Do this. We're four against 500.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Lovely! Hope you've acquired some firearms and planted some sabotage, then.

Weißenwrachz: Maskmaker has been…

<Weißenwrachz eyes Afrastella Maskmaker who seems utterly preoccupied with biting mouthful of fries out of the cone.>

Weißenwrachz: Rather useful with different thaumaturgic traps. I think we might have a chance.

Afrastella Maskmaker: [Muffled] Then let us go. I will need more of these.

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-5-7: Final briefing before Operation Waywalker

9 DAYS, 0 HOURS AND 0 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

The effort to establish a Way for Serpent's Hand reinforcements, coined as Operation Waywalker by Dr. Wrenna, had been deemed ready to be initialized. The following was the briefing made before the operation.

Sgt. Vestergaard: You work fast. Don't think this is up to code, though.

Weißenwrachz: Also incredibly outdated, my people don't even hold territory anymore, I'd say.

Dr. Wrenna: Look, it's outdated and based on Alpha-25's intel, okay? Can we— ignore that. The location of Gamma is the most important.

Afrastella Maskmaker: If only we had the Mapweavers of the Highest Tower from the Dusklands. They'd succeed on establishing a proper overview of the battlefield.

Dr. Wrenna: I— well— fuck off, lady? I'm trying my best.

Afrastella Maskmaker: If I must.

<Afrastella Maskmaker falls quiet and bows her head.>

Dr. Wrenna: Okay, look. We have decoy Ways. Maskmaker has been busy at work setting up traps and thaumaturgic energy signatures so that the Scarlet Society will hopefully be confused by the insane amount of magic sources. We have guns—

<Dr. Wrenna places a hand on top of the crate full of Marshall AR-S4s.>

Dr. Wrenna: a few fragments from Gamma, refined through some unknown chemical or thaumaturgic interaction

<Dr. Wrenna gestures to a box in a far corner that has symbolism from 18 different religions drawn onto it by Weißenwrachz.>

Dr. Wrenna: and us four. We estimate that the ritual will take 20 minutes. In that time we will, hopefully, manage to fight off whatever response that we'll met with. While they might be 500 according to Alpha-25, I cannot imagine that they'd just respond with all 500 of them. Especially not with multiple signatures popping up at the same time.

Afrastella Maskmaker: My chief concern is that of the caster that managed to hit Thorstein Vestergaard far out in the ocean. If they can inscribe such a spell, they can do much else, this I promise.

Sgt. Vestergaard: Alright. I'll try and take care of that. Given I'm the least impacted by a Scranton field, I'll grab the Gamma shards and see if I can't disable whatever that fellow is.

Weißenwrachz: I have prepared a psionic message that can be sent into the Way so that the Hand knows that we direly need reinforcements. It contains all the information we have, and it should only take 3 seconds for skilled magi to comprehend it, maybe 10 for the more novice of skill. As with all things Serpent's Hand, the exact reinforcement and, well. Type of reinforcement is unclear.

Dr. Wrenna: Anything works for me, come golems or dragons.

Weißenwrachz: … Yeah. Golems or dragons. So what now?

Dr. Wrenna: I suppose— are there any questions?

<3 seconds of silence passes.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: You did amazing, man. Well done.

<Dr. Wrenna blinks and looks to Sgt. Vestergaard. They exchange a grin.>

Dr. Wrenna: Alright then, let's get into position.

Weißenwrachz: With honor.

Afrastella Maskmaker: With power .

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-5-8: The Rome Incident

The following describes a comprehensive timeline of The Rome Incident as known by the Special Containment Procedures Foundation. Investigations are ongoing regarding the inciting factors and continued outcome.

A message regarding the Rome Incident.

From: admin@scip.net
To: All@scip

I understand that many are, as I am, shocked regarding the situation in Rome. We are working on amnesticizing the population while working through our grief at the losses.

The loss of life and history in the heart of Rome is one that will haunt our organization for many years to come. It also remains an example of why the Foundation must continue to operate as it has, less the anomalous get out of control under our ignorance.

Today, those we protect died in the dark. That is typically the burden that we must carry. But this makes the fallen heroes in my eyes, and I think it is the same situation in your eyes as well.

We are working on a solution regarding the loss of the Vatican. Our resources remain strained in the wake of SCP-9070. I promise that I will find a path through this catastrophe regardless of that.

We will continue to guard this world against tragedies like these. And I will do my best to stand besides the brave men and women of the Foundation.

Secure. Contain. Protect.

-The Administrator

[The following document has been redacted by order of the OVERSEER COUNCIL. It is strictly classified and may only be accessed by personnel with CLEARANCE LEVEL 5 AND ABOVE.]

JULY 5TH, 2025

Time stamps describe events as they happened in the local timezone.

01:02 - A sinkhole measuring 43 meters in diameter appears underneath SCP-9070-EPSILON as part of the approved mission by O5-5The Shadow, O5-6The Singularity and MTF ALPHA-01 "Red Right Hand" to relocate EPSILON away from GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION and HORIZON INITIATIVE control. Casualties caused by this are considered acceptable, even if an on oversight made by O5-5The Shadow caused the sinkhole's size to grow by approximately 30 meters in diameter.

01:03 - An exchange regarding the outcome of the operation was started between O5-5The Shadow and O5-6The Singularity. The exact contents of this exchange remain unknown.

01:03 - A collection of small explosions goes off at the same time throughout ROME. The source of these remain unknown, but a collection of hostile MALUM-class anomalies (colloquially regarded as entities such as demons) appear afterwards throughout the city. Serpent's Hand sleeper constructs concealed as gargoyles scramble to engage these entities.

01:05 - The casualties of the operation includes three (3) ALPHA-01 operatives, four (4) SARKIC cultists and one (1) member of MTF ALPHA-26 "Cybercrawler Couriers". As this is discovered, O5-6The Singularity confronts O5-5The Shadow regarding the operation to reprimand him. This is considered inappropriate conduct by O5-6The Singularity, which O5-5The Shadow informs O5-6The Singularity of.

01:06 - The sinkhole is slowly repaired by KARCIST BELLUS, causing EPSILON to be inaccessible from aboveground. What happens inside the spatial anomaly that THE FREE ORDER OF NADOX occupies remains unknown at this time.

01:11 - GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION operatives arrives on the scene of the former location of EPSILON. They begin evacuation of civilian forces a 500 meter radius from the established zone of control that EPSILON was formerly located in.

01:12 - A large electric sink centered near the former location of the sinkhole causes most of Rome to lose power. An earthquake measuring 4.3 on the Ricther scale, with an hypocenter below EPSILON's former location, causes alarms to trigger enmasse. Most inhabitants of Rome are at this point aware of the disturbances.

01:14 - MOBILE TASK FORCE ALPHA-31 "JACKED RIPPERS" launch an attack on the zone of control established around EPSILON's former location. Their presence was completely unknown to the wider Foundation at this point, including the Overseer Council. Anti-CHAOS INSURGENCY protocols causes analytic .AIC units to automatically attempt to establish contact with the commander of MTF ALPHA-31 without success.

01:16 - Three (3) operatives from MTF ALPHA-26 emerge from the spatial anomaly. They carry KARCIST BELLUS, who activates another entrance near the original spatial anomaly's entrance. This second entrance was unknown to the Foundation until this point.

01:16 - The electric grid surrounding ROME experiences excessive fluctuations. The Italian government immediately start investigative efforts and releases a statement urging civilians to turn off their power.

01:17 - Indistinct shouting and gunfire can be heard from the entrance of the first spatial anomaly. A wounded MTF ALPHA-26 operative crawls out of the entrance and expires six (6) seconds later. O5-6The Singularity stumbles out of the entrance shortly after and tosses a grenade armament into the entrance of the spatial anomaly. The ensuing explosion causes the entrance to become blocked. O5-6The Singularity grabs the expired MTF ALPHA-26 operative and enters the second spatial anomaly, closing the entrance behind her with a nanotechnical barrier. This remains the last observation of O5-6The Singularity as of this incident.

01:19 - A large explosion measuring roughly 5 kilotons in yield originating from EPSILON's former location occurs, causing an estimated 21,550 casualties and 54,570 injuries in Rome from the damages caused.

01:20 - CHAOS INSURGENCY combatants, seemingly inexperienced in combat with inadequate weapons, engages both FOUNDATION forces as well as the MALUM-class entities still at large.

01:23 - The INTERNATIONAL ATOMIC ENERGY AGENCY (IAEA) attempts to contact several governments regarding a potential nuclear explosion in ROME. Foundation protcols intercepts these attempts successfully. An .AIC unit automatically spreads COVER STORY H43: "MAGNITUDE 9.0-9.9 EARTHQUAKE" throughout news cycles, online forums and social media. UNUSUAL INCIDENTS UNIT immediately launches an investigation into the incident by request of the United States of America government.

01:25 - GOC EXACRATUS-class specialist, PANGAEA, arrives in ROME alongside operatives ALABASTER and SEPTEMBER through teleportation and cites a curse that covers the city in a thick, dark fog. MALUM-class entities remained visible due to being surrounded by a purple outline through the fog.

01:28 - THE ADMINISTRATOR flags O5-6The Singularity as being potentially compromised and revokes O5-6The Singularity's CLEARANCE LEVEL effective immediately. O5-5The Shadow is considered KILLED IN ACTION and is automatically rewarded the OVERSEER'S MEDAL OF HONOR for his service to NORMALCY.

01:30 - THE HORIZON INITIATIVE's leadership congregates in ISTANBUL, TÜRKIYE.

O1:33 - An emergency meeting is called for the 05 Council. The contents of this meeting are at this time unavailable due to suspected compromise of loyalty among the OVERSEERS.

O1:36 - GOC operative ALABASTER engages Foundation EXACRATUS-class thaumaturge PROFESSOR ALECA VON LEISERE. Engagement resulted in a standstill and cooperation effort with PROFESSOR ALECA VON LEISERE and GOC operatives ALABASTER, PANGAEA and SEPTEMBER to engage MALUM-class entities. This operation has since been approved, and PROFESSOR ALECA VON LEISERE has been granted the Foundation "Hell-Breaker" medal for their efforts in quelling the MALUM-class threat preying on civilians in ROME.

01:49 - THE HORIZON INITIATIVE declares the SCP Foundation a hostile entity and informs them that they are to vacate Rome immediately. This demand is automatically discarded by Initial_Response.AIC.

01:56 - MARSHALL, CARTER & DARK LTD. releases a statement over anomalous sub-frequencies that they condemn the vile actions taken against Overveil ROME and demand the responsible actions stand forwards at once.

02:01 - EISENFREMDER "Ted" units arrive in Rome dressed in civilian clothing and start aiding evacuation efforts, breaking standing agreements with the Foundation. Due to the circumstances, this would later be excused as charity under extreme circumstances. EISENFREMDER REAL ESTATE were rewarded 16,300 pigeon corpses for their efforts.

02:05 - Upon being informed of FOUNDATION presence, MARSHALL, CARTER & DARK LTD. retracted their statement.

02:06 - Pentagram demands live updates on the situation in ROME from the FOUNDATION. Their request is immediately and formally denied by Initial_Response.AIC.

02:08 - Skirmishes emerge throughout ROME between FOUNDATION, SERPENT'S HAND, GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION, CHURCH OF THE BROKEN GOD and THE HORIZON INITIATIVE. Roughly 2,000 fatalities occur from the fighting, no clear factions were established cross-GoI.

02:12 - The last present MALUM-class entity, "THI'ZAAR TYRANTBLADE", is neutralized by PROFESSOR ALECA VON LEISERE and GOC operatives ALABASTER, PANGAEA and SEPTEMBER. PROFESSOR ALECA VON LEISERE exfiltrates from ROME.

02:15 - Extreme measures for maintaining the veil, such as amnestic sounds played at harmful frequencies, were permitted. The damages caused by these measures remain unclear.

02:38 - The Vatican declares a state of emergency and deploys elite combat personnel. Skirmishes are broken up by their presence, but continue for roughly 2 hours after this.

02:44 - THE GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION informs the FOUNDATION of hostile intent on sight.

02:49 - Mobile Task Force Alpha-24 "Four Hands" is spotted by Foundation surveillance ROME alongside O5-4. They immediately enter a church and remain out of sight for the remaining part of THE ROME INCIDENT.

02:50 - The Underpope uses a thaumaturgic ritual to put an estimated 40,000 individuals to sleep.

03:22 - GLOBAL OCCULT COALITION forces lose ground in ROME and exfiltrate from the city.

03:43 - In a united operation, SERPENT'S HAND and CHURCH OF THE BROKEN GOD operatives effectively decimate HORIZON INITIATIVE presence, the elite combat personnel deployed by the Underpope exfiltrate back to The Vatican City.

04:21 - Skirmishes and hostility effectively cease. ROME falls under the control of THE CHURCH OF THE BROKEN GOD, THE FOUNDATION and THE SERPENT'S HAND. A week-long ceasefire is brokered by O5-11The Butcher between the three groups.

AFTERWORD: SCP-9070-EPSILON is to be considered contained at this time. MTF ALPHA-31 have been flagged for investigation and are to be considered compromised at this time. O5-6The Singularity is to be apprehended by any means necessary. Lethal force is authorized. Secure. Contain. Protect.

Addendum 9070-5-9: Operation Waywalker

9 DAYS, 1 HOUR AND 12 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

Dr. Wrenna and his task force commences Operation Waywalker.

<Dr. Wrenna, Sgt. Vestergaard, Afrastella Maskmaker and Weißenwrachz are standing around the circle drawn by Weißenwrachz. Dr. Wrenna is rolling his shoulders and is smiling confidently. Sgt. Vestergaard sighs and stares off. Afrastella Maskmaker has disguised herself as a GOC operative and Weißenwrachz is adjusting his combat parka. Eight wands are placed in holsters on his chest, belt and thighs.>

Dr. Wrenna: Alright! This is it. Let's begin when you're able, Jas.

<Weißenwrachz nods. He crosses his wands and starts citing a phrase in an unidentified language. Afrastella Maskmaker eyes the AR-S4 she is holding with a quizzical expression. She checks the chamber with a raised eyebrow.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: Typically I try to disguise myself as entities I'd know about. I must admit I am fairly unfamiliar with your mortal firearms. They seem a lot more subtle than Tarak weaponry.

Sgt. Vestergaard: You probably know more than the average GOC soldier anyways. They typically see something they shouldn't have on duty and then gets pulled into the Coalition. So they're about as smart as your average soldier, really. Besides, whatever happened in Rome has them distracted. You can probably excuse any odd behavior as being stressed, really.

Afrastella Maskmaker: Hrm. If that is your wisdom, I'd be a fool to disregard it. Very well.

<Dr. Wrenna pulls the bolt back on his rifle, inspecting the chamber. He nods satisfied at something. His leg is quaking.>

Weißenwrachz: Alright. By Serpent of Knowledge and Worm of Oblivion, grant us passage through Your Grand Library, O Serpent.

<Weißenwrachz states a word that cannot be heard. The Way starts glowing in a golden hue. Afrastella Maskmaker snaps her fingers, causing the decoy signatures to activate across the city.>

Dr. Wrenna: And now—

Sgt. Vestergaard: —we wait.

<Afrastella Maskmaker sighs. She walks off to take a decoy position out of sight to intercept approaching Coalition and Scarlet operatives.>

<Weißenwrachz cants his head from side to side, causing two pops to sound.>

<Dr. Wrenna looks around impatiently, the magazines and his sidearm rustling in his bandolier.>

<Sgt. Vestergaard is looking down at his sidearm. He seems to inspect the side of it and runs a thumb over the barrel. An unclear engraving is visible. Sgt. Vestergaard averts his eyes and moves the pistol to his side. He frowns.>

<A minute has passed.>

<Weißenwrachz twirls a wand around his hand. He drops it on the ground and picks it up with a grumble.>

<Dr. Wrenna shifts his weight from leg to leg. He has started sweating. He unbuttons the top button on his Hawai'ian shirt.>

<Sgt. Vestergaard stares ahead.>

<A couple minutes have passed.>

<Weißenwrachz glances around. He frowns at a raven that has landed on a roof overlooking the group. It has seven eyes on each side.>

Weißenwrachz: They've spotted us as of now.

Dr. Wrenna: Wonderful.

<Sgt. Vestergaard eyes the bird and fires a round at it. It explodes into a red smoke that collapses in on itself.>

<Three minutes have passed. The forming Way lets out a discordant song played by chimes.>

<Weißenwrachz takes a deep breath. He exhales just as deeply. He rotates the wand in his right hand anxiously.>

<Dr. Wrenna hops in place. He checks the locations of his magazines and sidearm and nods to himself.>

<Sgt. Vestergaard looks down at the scar on his palm. He runs his pistol over it and frowns.>

<Four minutes have passed. The song hastens slightly in pace.>

<Weißenwrachz leans his head back and sniffs the air. He frowns.>

Weißenwrachz: Something is approaching, I think. I smell… something.

<Weißenwrachz points both of his wands straight ahead down the T section they're standing it.>

<Dr. Wrenna raises his rifle to his shoulder. He aims it down the left of the T section.>

<Sgt. Vestergaard half-heartedly points his pistol down the right of the T section. He uses one hand for it and keeps the other in his pocket, fiddling with something.>

Dr. Wrenna: Do you— hear that? Birds quieted down, do you think—

Weißenwrachz: I absolutely think that. Let us cut the chatter.

<Sgt. Vestergaard sighs and looks the ironsight.>

<Footsteps can be heard from all directions.>

Dr. Wrenna: … Dozens, I think? Yeah.

Weißenwrachz: I believe I sense 50.

<Sgt. Vestergaard squints.>

<The footsteps stop.>

<Silence. Nothing.>

<A raven caws.>

<Sgt. Vestergaard discharges his pistol five times, hitting the barrier of a Scarlet cultist. He hits the same spot with all of the bullets, causing the barrier to shatter and the Scarlet cultist to exclaim and retreat back around the corner, blocking the way for other personnel to rush in.>

<Dr. Wrenna fires at the first person coming into view, a Coalition agent in civilian outfit armed with an AR-S4. The bullet pierces the agent's skull before he realises that the trio is present.>

<Weißenwrachz flings five thaumaturgic bolts down the alley, hitting an Anderson Robotics combat unit's chest. It seems undeterred by this and starts running down the alley, causing Weißenwrachz to flick his left wand, conjuring invisible thread in front of the combat unit that it trips over.>

Weißenwrachz: Got robots!

Dr. Wrenna: I can take those!

Sgt. Vestergaard: Jas, you're handling the sorcerers! Let me deal with the GOC.

<Dr. Wrenna starts charging up his rifle by pumping the lever-action repeatedly. A trio of robots emerge from around the corner, each holding a large metal shield in front of them. Dr. Wrenna fires a fully charged shot at the centerpoint of one of the shields. The metal yields significantly, but is not pierced. Dr. Wrenna charges another shot and fires to the same result. He frowns and looks around the alley in slight panic. He mutters a phrase under his breath and closes his eyes. The drone is only able to pick up on "show" and "off" being spoken. He sprints down the alley and runs shoulder first into the shield. His anomaly activates and causes the shield to start glowing orange momentarily before it explodes, causing all of the robotic combatants to have their joints melt together and become inoperative, while Dr. Wrenna is unharmed. He starts laughing.>

<Weißenwrachz spots a large person wearing a large suit of medieval Iberian armor with a red hue walk around the corner, causing him to show the person a perplexed expression. The cultist is carrying a large halberd about 2.5 meters long that they plant in the ground. Three dark red orbs manifest and rotates around the weapon. After a brief delay, they fire at Weißenwrachz who manages to dispel two of the orbs but is hit with the final one. He is flung a meter back and lands on his back. He lets out a burst of wandfire that seem to be absorbed by the armor. A woman laughs from within the armor mockingly.>

Cultist: [Spanish] Is that all you can muster, legendary wand master? Pathetic. Let me show you real evocation.

<Weißenwrachz rolls his eyes as the cultist starts to circle her halberd around in a rhythmic ritual. He attaches a spectral tether around the bottom of the halberd with a wand and pulls it towards himself, causing the blade to hit into the woman's helmet and interrupting the spell. Weißenwrachz stands up as the cultist seems to stumble, attaching another tether around her foot. He pulls it and causes her to fall over. Weißenwrachz walks closer and starts chanting a spell for a few seconds, ending it with pointing his wand at the woman and causing a green sigil to appear under her. After a second, she is launched violently into the air and seems to fly further inland.>

Weißenwrachz: Do you reckon that was the one Maskmaker was afraid of!?

Dr. Wrenna: Doubt it if they went down that easily!

<Sgt. Vestergaard jogs back to the pair and discards his sidearms. He pulls out an AR-S4 from a crate.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: GOC are off their game.

<Dr. Wrenna seems to spot the bullet wound in Sgt. Vestergaard's temple which seems to be rapidly closing. Before he can comment on this, a burst of gunfire from assault rifles fills the alley, causing Sgt. Vestergaard to take cover and return fire towards the five Global Occult Coalition agents firing at them. Dr. Wrenna's anomaly and Weißenwrachz' thaumaturgic shield absorbs the gunfire.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: How's the portal looking?!

Weißenwrachz: The Way is halfway done!

Dr. Wrenna: Response is only going to intensify from here!

Sgt. Vestergaard: Let them come, then! I need to make my presence known in this decade anyways!

<Sgt. Vestergaard jumps out of cover and sprays a group of bullets at the incoming suppression fire. He is notably shot thrice doing this and goes limb. A second later he returns to function and reloads. Dr. Wrenna notices this and frowns.>

Dr. Wrenna: How do you—

Sgt. Vestergaard: No time to explain! Need you on those robots, man!

<Dr. Wrenna blinks and eyes the combat units moving down the alley with shields once more. A grenade is tossed by one of them, causing Dr. Wrenan to yelp in surprise and run towards the robots. He drops the rifle behind him and catches the grenade. Right before it explodes he jumps at the robots, causing their shields to bend and dent due to the shrapnel hitting them, their velocity enhanced from Dr. Wrenna's anomaly accelerating them away from him. He inhales sharply and slams a shoulder into their shields again, causing the robots to be suddenly accelerated out of the alley and into a building across the street. As the three robots crash into it, the building roof collapses on top of them, causing Dr. Wrenna to suck air through his teeth.>

Dr. Wrenna: Shit, think I just ruined someone's home!

Weißenwrachz: They're evacuated!

<Dr. Wrenna frowns at the response and jogs back to his rifle. He starts charging it up with a worried expression.>

Dr. Wrenna: It feels like— they're relenting?

<Weißenwrachz fires off three orbs of fire towards the end of his alley, causing a large explosion that audibly breaks several defensive barriers.>

Weißenwrachz: These morons don't know the first thing about barriers! They might not be as strong as we expected!

Dr. Wrenna: Or they're— focusing their strength somewhere else? Why?

<Sgt. Vestergaard reloads his assault rifle and shrugs.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Higher chance of getting the Way up and running.

<Several explosions can be heard in the distance, causing every combatant to halt and look towards it.>

Dr. Wrenna: Huh?

Weißenwrachz: Reckon that isn't us!?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Huh, suppose not?

<Sgt. Vestergaard fires a few bullets at the distracted combatants and looks over his shoulder to Dr. Wrenna.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: That isn't one of your schemes, right?!

Dr. Wrenna: I don't— think so?

Weißenwrachz: Way's almost done! Let's— clear out the rest and go check it out when the Way is stable!

Dr. Wrenna: I think— I think I'm out of robots?! Status?

Sgt. Vestergaard: Coalition seems less brave— well, they're never quite brave in the first place without excessive weaponry!

Weißenwrachz: Fairly certain that I need to meditate on the things I've done today, but Scarlets seems to be thinning out! What's status on Maskmaker?!

Afrastella Maskmaker: [Distant] I am disenchanting golems!

Dr. Wrenna: She is disenchanting golems.

Sgt. Vestergaard: That's a necessity, I suppose! Should we let the Way form on its own and go check those explosions out?!

Dr. Wrenna: We can do that when we have an army of wizards behind us! This takes priority!

<Sgt. Vestergaard lets out an annoyed exhale and looks to his palm. He fires off a three bullet burst at a Coalition agent poking his head around the corner. The agent unceremoniously collapses as he expires from having his skull pierced.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: I just thi—

Dr. Wrenna: What's status on the Way?!

Weißenwrachz: We're talking a minute or two!

Sgt. Vestergaard: …

<Sgt. Vestergaard forces his eyes shut in a frustrated manner. A Coalition agent rounds the corner and fires five bullets at Sgt. Vestergaard, causing him to expire. Before he can collapse, he is immediately resurrected. Once he is operational again, he returns fire on the agent.>

Dr. Wrenna: Almost there! Maskmaker, what does it look like out there?!

Afrastella Maskmaker: [Distant] Victory is in our grasp, as the Star-Counted Prophecies foretold!

Weißenwrachz: Keep forgetting that The Summoner knows how to control demons pretty well!

<Sgt. Vestergaard looks around the alley, seemingly in a state of desperation. He reaches into his pocket and turns to face the Way. He looks to the corner where the wall turns into roof and sighs. He presses something in his pocket, causing an audible click. Weißenwrachz lets out a pained groan as shards of SCP-9070-Gamma are pushed down into the alley from the roof. Dr. Wrenna looks around in confusion and looks up towards the roof.>

Dr. Wrenna: Shit— I think they—

Sgt. Vestergaard: No, George. They're not.

Sgt. Vestergaard: They are not behind us. They are not on the roofs. I took care to ensure such.

<Sgt. Vestergaard positions himself in from of the Way and rolls his shoulders. He looks to Dr. Wrenna with empty eyes only given a hint of personality by a slight frown.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: It's just me, man.

<Dr. Wrenna slowly lowers his rifle and looks around. No footsteps, yelling or gunfire is audible.>

Dr. Wrenna: But—

Sgt. Vestergaard: The Way can't form.

Dr. Wrenna: But we need— we need to stop the Coalition and the Society?

Sgt. Vestergaard: They almost have the right idea.

<Dr. Wrenna stutters for 5 seconds. Sgt. Vestergaard briefly averts his eyes.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Go.

<Sgt. Vestergaard removes some keys from his pocket and tosses it to Dr. Wrenna. The keys reflects off Dr. Wrenna's anomaly and lands on the dirt below. The sound is hollow.>

Sgt. Vestergaard: Car's around the corner. Drive to the harbor, there's a Carter container ship there. It'll take off when you show up, bring you to New York.

<Dr. Wrenna looks down at the key and back up at the Vestergaard. Dr. Wrenna forms a disgusted expression.>

Vestergaard: Go home.

<The conversation is silent for 8 seconds. Vestergaard fidgets with the grip on his assault rifle.>

Dr. Wrenna: Why?

Vestergaard: Go home, George.

Dr. Wrenna: Why would you— what the fuck? No? Are you stupid?

Vestergaard: I'd wish so.

Dr. Wrenna: If they maintain control of Gamma, they will— quite literally kill the Underveil and all it's built on?

<Vestergaard doesn't respond. He tightens his grip around the handguard.>

Dr. Wrenna: Do you know how many peoples there are out there? Religions, sub-countries, children, families, causes, schools, libraries, dreams. There are underwater continents, cavernous systems, clouds, shadows, trees, blimps, dimensions, pocket realms, worlds full of people that are going to die if this comes to pass.

<Vestergaard slightly shifts his weight so he is not directly facing Dr. Wrenna. He tightens his grip around his weapon.>

Dr. Wrenna: Did you know that we're currently sustaining 4% of the population of Sweden through anomalous chemicals in their drinking water? They'd die from a thaumaturgic disease if they don't drink the water. I know this quite well, I bloody made it.

<Vestergaard twitches an eye.>

Vestergaard: Where did the disease come from.

Dr. Wrenna: What?

Vestergaard: The disease. Where did it come from.

Dr. Wrenna: It— I don't know—

Vestergaard: Of course not. Let me answer that for you.

<Vestergaard holds his assault rifle by his side in one hand.>

Vestergaard: A tyrannical, power-hungry sorcerer. You said it was thaumaturgic. So, someone cast it. That's always the bloody issue with these examples. They flawed by merit of them being caused by the anomalous.

Dr. Wrenna: Well, not all anoma—

Vestergaard: Do you know how Maximillian Carter took control of New York?

<Dr. Wrenna frowns.>

Dr. Wrenna: It was— I believe a radio broadca—

Vestergaard: A radio broadcast tuned to a specific sub-frequency that technology at the time couldn't detect, because why could they? It is non-sensical. It required precision that we cannot achieve in this reality. On a false frequency requiring false, profane equipment to hear, he had taken the— fucking vocal cords of Dr. Wondertainment's daughter, yeah? He had it animated to continously make the screams she made when Carter ripped it out of her throat. It was constant. The broadcast had a thaumaturgic sink to it, so if you would tune a radio anywhere near the sub-frequency, like an entire section between two frequencies we can measure with mundane equipment, it'd tune to that screaming. It wouldn't stop.

<Vestergaard stares off with teary eyes.>

Vestergaard: I don't even think Wondertainment did anything. I don't even think Wondertainment had even spoken to Carter. I don't even think Wondertainment knew of Carter. But he was a whimsical force of nature with a weakness - a daughter. We gave her one of those show-biz rooms, right? Makeup mirrors and all manners of glitter and gold you can make yourself pretty with. She thought she was going to send a recording to her father for ransom. So she applied the most stunning eyeliner I'd ever seen. It looked like fairy wings, right? Like her eyes were one-winged, purple and glittery fairies from one of those fairy tales. And the way she'd sing, so divinely beautiful. It was like I was truly faced with an otherworldly being I didn't deserve to see. I think that is the truth, too.

<Dr. Wrenna furrows his eyebrows.>

Vestergaard: So when she looked the best she could, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, the way she seemed to bend light to make her the center of the stage itself. And then Carter just walked up to her, grabbed hold of her throat and pulled. The blood covered all of us— we each had finely pressed suits, and each one of them had at least a fingertip's width worth of blood on it. Even the guard standing outside. She stumbled around in a panic, those beautiful wings started to smear and run and fade and blood took their place. She collapsed shortly after, but Carter wouldn't let her die. He had captured a necromancer, right? Forced him to keep the poor girl alive until they could perform surgery on her— to keep her alive.

<Vestergaard's eyes are glazed over.>

Vestergaard: I don't think she died. I think they gave her back, without her being able to sing. I— I don't know if she'd ever smile again. I—… all I know is that Carter forced all of New York to cower. It was his in a minute after we put up the broadcast.

<Vestergaard stares off. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, they are bloodshot. He stares Dr. Wrenna down.>

Vestergaard: It's the same. The anomalous are used by warlords. Whenever something exists, it will be weaponized. Tyrants are part of normalcy— we can't remove them. Fucking— 2000, right? Yellowstone. It's an open secret at this point. They used it to give us empathy. Why do I get the sense it missed a few spots in paradise? Why do we D-Class? Why does the GOC doubletap toddlers they presume anomalous? Why does the fucking— Scarlet Society worship a deity that wants nothing but death and blood? Why does the Black Moon howl forevermore?

<Vestergaard spits onto the ground.>

Vestergaard: This is how humans operate. We are evolved to abuse the powers that are around us, from the very first rock we picked up to the very last star we'll drain to fuel our entertainment. It has to stop, man. Without anomalies, we wouldn't have a reason to go to war. We'd have no incentive to be such— monsters.

<Silence falls. Dr. Wrenna shakes his head idly.>

Dr. Wrenna: I can't let you do this, man. Please don't force my hand.

Vestergaard: Leave, man. I even got you the captain's quarters on that ship. One of those stupid typewriters you loved using back in Goldpoint. What else do you want? Money? Women?

<Dr. Wrenna forces his eyes shut and tilts his head backwards. After 11 seconds, he opens his eyes and stares Sgt. Vestergaard down.>

Dr. Wrenna: … You know what I want?

<Vestergaard disables the safety on his assault rifle with a pained expression.>

Dr. Wrenna: I can't articulate the utter— insanity and hopelessness you are blinded by. There are people you're about to erase, genocide isn't the response to— tyranny. So you know what?

<Vestergaard crouches down and raises his assault rifle slightly.>

Dr. Wrenna: I don't want typewriters, I don't want money, I don't want women.

<Dr. Wrenna charges the rifle to maximum capacity.>

Dr. Wrenna: I want to flaunt a bit.

<END LOG>

Addendum 9070-5-10: .AIC Command Center Log

9 DAYS, 1 HOUR AND 15 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

[14:21:06] Watchdog.AIC: <CRITICAL> Potential EKHI-Class anomaly detected. Reason: LARGE ILLUMINATION OVER DAKAR, SENEGAL

[14:21:09] Grand_Archivist.AIC: Potentially relevant context: DAKAR, SENEGAL is the location of SCP-9070-Gamma

[14:21:14] Secretary.AIC: Pinging Overseer Council through Sub-Frequency Morse Code…

[14:21:18] Secretary.AIC: Attempt failed, retrying (1/3)…

[14:21:23] Secretary.AIC: Attempt failed, retrying (2/3)…

[14:21:29] Secretary.AIC: Attempt failed, retrying (3/3)…

[14:21:30] Secretary.AIC: <CRITICAL> Transmission of Sub-Frequency Morse Code failed. Attempting to call THE_ADMINISTRATOR…

[14:21:50] Secretary.AIC: Attempt failed, retrying (1/3)…

[14:22:20] Secretary.AIC: Attempt failed, retrying (2/3)…

[14:22:50] Secretary.AIC: Attempt failed, retrying (3/3)…

[14:22:52] Secretary.AIC: <CRITICAL> Attempts to call THE_ADMINISTRATOR failed. Attempting to call O5-01…

[14:22:55] [SYSTEM]: O5-01 CONNECTED. Voice to text transcript is activated.

[14:22:58] TempUser_O5-01: What is this? Why are you not talking to the Administrator?

[14:23:01] Secretary.AIC: Attempts to call THE_ADMINISTRATOR failed.

[14:23:02] TempUser_O5-01: I see. Explain the situation.

[14:23:04] Secretary.AIC: Forwarding message by Watchdog.AIC: <CRITICAL> Potential EKHI-Class anomaly detected. Reason: LARGE ILLUMINATION OVER DAKAR, SENEGAL

[14:23:06] TempUser_O5-01: Wonderful. Give me the status on the local operatives.

[14:23:08] Secretary.AIC: Searching for relevant information…

[14:23:15] TempUser_O5-01: Why are you so slow?

[14:23:17] Secretary.AIC: Reason: UNKNOWN. Run diagnostics check? Y/N

[14:23:19] TempUser_O5-01: Run it. Send the report to Thirteen.

[14:23:21] Secretary.AIC: Please confirm: O5-13? Y/N

[14:23:23] TempUser_O5-01: Yeah.

[14:23:25] Secretary.AIC: Running diagnostics…

[14:23:32] Watchdog.AIC: <CRITICAL> Reported EKHI-Class anomaly pending promotion to AMIDA-Class. Reason: INTENSIFYING ILLUMINATION. ILLUMINATION COLORED RED.

[14:23:34] Grand_Archivist.AIC: Potentially relevant context: Given red illumination, alongside local Group of Interest presence, the likelihood of Scarlet Society thaumaturgy is high.

[14:23:36] TempUser_O5-01: [PRESUMED EXHALE]

[14:23:23] TempUser_O5-01: I'm en route. Figure out what's wrong with whatever bot that was, forward the results to Thirteen. In fact, dial them up and have them forward any important updates to me. One out.

[14:23:48] [SYSTEM]: O5-01 DISCONNECTED.

[14:26:23] Secretary.AIC: Diagnostics complete: SUSPECTED MALWARE DETECTED.

[14:26:24] Secretary.AIC: Attempting to call O5-13…

[14:26:39] [SYSTEM]: O5-13 CONNECTED. Voice to text transcript is activated.

[14:26:40] TempUser_O5-13: This is Thirteen. Is this critical?

[14:26:41] [SYSTEM]: O5-11 CONNECTED. Voice to text transcript is activated.

[14:26:43] TempUser_O5-11: Hello, Thirteen. I have something I must admit to you.

[14:26:45] TempUser_O5-13: What could that possibly be?

[14:26:48] TempUser_O5-11: I think I did this. All of this.

[14:26:55] TempUser_O5-13: I'm not quite sure I understand?

[14:26:59] TempUser_O5-11: SCP-9070. If I hadn't pulled those resources from Canada to divert them to Taiwan, maybe we'd have found the thaumaturge before this would've escalated.

[14:27:05] TempUser_O5-13: Statistically if we hadn't found it anyways, a few assets going from one place to another wouldn't have impacted our scouting capability.

[14:27:09] TempUser_O5-11: I suppose we won't know. I'm going to make this right. I've already brokered peace in Rome. I just… Wanted to let you know that you and Six were right, okay?

[14:27:14] TempUser_O5-11: Maybe what I prioritize is wrong.

[14:27:16] TempUser_O5-13: All, any actions have outcomes. Outcomes with different likelihoods.

[14:27:19] TempUser_O5-13: You aren't perfect. You may even be foolish. I still don't think that you, and Five for that matter, are suited for the Council.

[14:27:22] TempUser_O5-13: The Mission requires us to be careful. I would ask that you simply learn from this scenario. And please report to One. I can't promise you safety, but I can tell you he's more amendable to those who kneel before him.

[14:27:27] TempUser_O5-11: Yeah. You're right. Thanks, Thirteen.

[14:27:30] TempUser_O5-13: Of course. I don't mean to be pushy, but I need the room. You know how confused .AICs get when we chatter idly here.

[14:27:33] TempUser_O5-11: Yeah, of course. See you.

[14:27:35] [SYSTEM]: O5-11 DISCONNECTED.
[14:27:36] TempUser_O5-13: @Secretary.AIC disengage "Fallen Empire" protocol from Rome. Clear cache. Wipe this command, answers to it and clarifications about it. Wipe administrative action logs.

[14:27:38] Secretary.AIC: Processing…

[14:27:41] Secretary.AIC: Please confirm: Are you certain? Y/N

[14:27:42] TempUser_O5-13: Yes. God damn it, yes. Finally.

[14:27:43] Secretary.AIC: Disengaging "Fallen Empire" protocol from Location: ROME, ITALY…

[14:27:48] Secretary.AIC: Deleting and overwriting cache…

[14:27:49] Secretary.AIC: Deleting and overwriting history of current conversation…

[14:27:50] Secretary.AIC: Deleting administrative actions log…

[14:27:51] Secretary.AIC: COMMAND SUCCESSFUL. Is there anything else you'd like?

[14:27:53] TempUser_O5-13: No. Thank you. To a better world.
[14:27:48] [SYSTEM]: O5-13 DISCONNECTED.

>_

Addendum 9070-5-11: SCP-9070-Gamma Zone of Control

9 DAYS, 1 HOUR AND 16 MINUTES AFTER SCP-9070

"I vow whole-heartedly to dedicate myself to the defense of humanity. With this vow, I promise to achieve understanding of that which cloaks itself in indeterminate factors. I will protect those at my side. I will be protected by those by my side. I accept that I will die in the dark so that others may live in the Light. Secure, Contain, Protect."

-Special Containment Procedures Foundation's Vow of Initiation

<Dr. Wrenna pulls the trigger, shooting a bullet through Vestergaard's chest. For a brief moment, his eyes lose focus before they light up in a bright blue and he is resurrected before he hits the ground. Vestergaard growls and slides behind cover. He goes through his pockets with an annoyed expression.>

Vestergaard: Don't know what the hell they put in that head of yours, but I preferred the George that DIDN'T stand in the way of a better world!

Dr. Wrenna: You're— you've got to be fucking—

Dr. Wrenna: Just— holy shit—

<Vestergaard makes it out of view. He groans and looks around.>

Dr. Wrenna: Maskmaker, need help here!

Dr. Wrenna: God— THORSTEIN.

<Dr. Wrenna tries to keep pace. As the crowd thins out closer to the zone of control, Dr. Wrenna charges his rifle while yelling in frustration. When he gets a clear line of sight to Vestergaard, he takes aim and fires at Vestergaard's leg, causing him to fall over.>

Vestergaard: Why do lapdogs always get lucky shots!?

Vestergaard: Last chance to stop being that same old cowardly dog eager to please his owner, George! If you continue in here I WILL stop playing around! I do know how to kill you!

Dr. Wrenna: Oh, shut up. I know from experience— you won't shut up when you don't have any other options, man. Really— think I didn't notice that shit at Vavar's hideout?

Vestergaard: Suit yourself! You'd have died in a few decades anyways!

Dr. Wrenna: Yeah, speaking of that, how come you get back to fast anyways?!

Vestergaard: Found a brand new purpose— you could stand to do the same!

<Dr. Wrenna reaches the concrete barrier and hops over. As he does, he notices a grenade and a shard of SCP-9070-Gamma, causing him to exclaim loudly as the grenade is disturbed and blows up. The anomaly partly reduces the blast and launches Dr. Wrenna into the air. He lands roughly a bit ahead with a groan. He stands back up with a huff and runs a hand over his abdomen. His clenches his fist around the rifle which has taken significant damage and tosses it aside. He continues to walk straight ahead, after Vestergaard who is still sprinting towards SCP-9070-Gamma.>

Dr. Wrenna: Too much— time in the lab—…

<SCP-9070-Gamma is visible in the distance. It is made of a dark grey, metallic material. It is a 6 meter tall trapezoid that has large chunks carved out of it. It stands in the middle of a mundane residential area, far away from tourist attractions. It has started to gain an ominous red hue. Far above, almost imperceptible to those looking at things in eye height, a large red circle is present, much like a second moon. It is slowly expanding. Vestergaard reloads his sidearm and stands in front of a woman chanting ritualistically in front of the pillar — Adaline Carpenter.>

Vestergaard: Does that annoying nullification shield make you too sheltered to know of the real world or something?!

Dr. Wrenna: Thorstein, I'm— begging you here, like— you have a CULTIST working for you?! Stop this!

Vestergaard: You're quite a dense asshole, aren't you?!

<Dr. Wrenna lets out a short whimper. When he nears 10 meters of SCP-9070-Gamma, he flinches and comes to a halt. He sits himself down on the ground and grabs handful of gravel.>

Carpenter: Remove— him—

Vestergaard: You just focus on all that and I'll take care of this, yeah?

Dr. Wrenna: I think you're full of shit, Thorstein. I don't think the way the world functions is the only thing on your mind here.

<Dr. Wrenna inhales raggedly.>

Dr. Wrenna: I think your agenda is something different.

<Vestergaard scoffs.>

Vestergaard: Oh, here we go. Mr. University is about to tell us exactly what's wrong with me.

Dr. Wrenna: Do you think I haven't noticed that you've taken a break from trying dated dating tactics? Keep looking at your hand, at this— scar I absolutely know you didn't have when you recruited me into the Foundation.

<Vestergaard rolls his eyes.>

Dr. Wrenna: I don't think this is some— need to correct "what is wrong". You'd have found something else. Something that wouldn't require you to doom whole ethnic, religious and anomalous groups of people. You're not— dumb enough to throw away all of that. Dumb, but not that dumb.

<Vestergaard grimaces.>

Dr. Wrenna: You're trying to kill yourself, moron. That's what this is. You can't treat people like— people. I don't know what makes me stand out, for you to pretend that you're my friend, only to do this. You kill men because it's fun. You try to sleep with every woman because that's all you can see people as— empty shells that you can impose your wants on.

<Sgt. Vestergaard twitches his eye. Dr. Wrenna gestures to the pillar, then Carpenter.>

Dr. Wrenna: Don't know what the fuck your deal with her is, either. Frankly, first time I've seen you be on a woman's side without trying to court her, or whatever you people said in the medieval times.

Vestergaard: Ah, here we are. The young, enlightened and perfect little guy loving to point out his idea of problematic behavior. You're awfully quiet about what it means to be a targeted minority in a globe-spanning goose chase to understand what isn't meant to be understood by any means necessary.

<Dr. Wrenna furrows his eyebrows.>

Dr. Wrenna: You don't get to pull that card against me when you're in the middle of— unprecedented genocide.

Vestergaard: Oh, how lucky that the situation absolves you of your sins, eh? Somehow that's always the case with henchmen.

Dr. Wrenna: Just— please just stop, Thorstein. We can— go to that ship you talked about, get off at NYC, you show me all the sights to see, we eat some pizza, you try to explain that Denmark is actually a different country from Sweden for the 17th time. We go home.

<Vestergaard remains quiet. He seems to look into the distance.>

Dr. Wrenna: I just want my friend back, man. My friend from before— Antarctica, demons and obelisks.

<Vestergaard sniffs. Carpenter continues to chant, but looks over her shoulder at the two.>

Vestergaard: I can't let go of this opportunity.

<Vestergaard unfocuses his eyes.>

Vestergaard: I can't imagine a world with purpose anymore.

Dr. Wrenna: I understand.

<Dr. Wrenna clenches his fist around the gravel he had been transmuting using his anomaly. The energy released by the forceful fusing of atoms creates a small explosion. Vestergaard is launched into the pillar, causing him to expire before he falls on top of Carpenter.>

Carpenter: Damnable, I told you to handle it!

Vestergaard: You—

Vestergaard: If you could always do this, why were you such a pussy before now!?

Dr. Wrenna: People change!

<Dr. Wrenna stumbles to his feet, and Vestergaard struggles to stand with his broken arm. However, the latter takes a deep breath and reaches for something in his pocket. Dr. Wrenna runs at Vestergaard this time, while Vestergaard doesn't move. As Dr. Wrenna gets close enough, Vestergaard pulls out a sharpened shard of SCP-9070 Gamma and stabs it into Dr. Wrenna's stomach. He lets out a pained yelp.>

<The two stop moving. Carpenter continues to chant. The area suddenly becomes flooded in a harsh red glow. Dr. Wrenna looks down to the shard embedded in him.>

Dr. Wrenna: You…

Vestergaard: You wanted to play. Don't blame me for this.

<Dr. Wrenna widens his eyes. He takes a few steps back, seemingly in shock. He pats the area around the wound.>

Vestergaard: You just— had to fuck off. I paid hundreds of thousands for that favor. But, oh no. George had to find his spine after decades of searching for it, didn't he? He couldn't just have taken this in stride, accept that sometimes we lose and learn from it, oh no.

<Vestergaard closes his eyes.>

Vestergaard: Just had to take a stand in that one moment I needed you to falter the most.

<Vestergaard sobs. Dr. Wrenna collapses.>

Dr. Wrenna: I— oh— my…

Vestergaard: Good job! You made me flinch! You did it! Why did you have to throw away your life doing that?

<Carpenter stops chanting.>

Vestergaard: Just had to—

Carpenter: Idiot.

<Vestergaard spins around and stares Carpenter down with his eyes glossed over. His voice breaks.>

Vestergaard: What the hell do—

Carpenter: It's over.

<Dr. Wrenna collapses. Weißenwrachz jogs towards him and drops to his knees. The red hue of the area slowly fades. Vestergaard stares blankly into the pillar. His mouth is agape.>

Vestergaard: But—

Weißenwrachz: We obviously had decoys I could run to, man. It wasn't the only Way we set up.

Afrastella Maskmaker: Well. A situation I am not sure that the contract covers, but I am going to choose the interpretation that lets me stay in this realm longer.

<Afrastella Maskmaker casts a binding spell on Vestergaard's wrists, causing a bright blue ring to levitate around his forearms. The same happens for Carpenter.>

Afrastella Maskmaker: We'll hand over these two to the Hand, I don't think we have quite enough power to secure them for the Foundation anywa—

<O5-1The Anomaly lands on top of Afrastella Maskmaker from above, causing her to immediately expire. Her spell remain. The Serpent's Hand all collectively raise their foci, weapons, claws and miscellaneous appendages at him. O5-1The Anomaly slowly stands up, looking around the area.>

O5-1The Anomaly: It seems like you made me come here just in time to deal a proper blow to the Hand. The ritual appears…

<O5-1The Anomaly looks to Vestergaard and Carpenter.>

O5-1The Anomaly: Interrupted.

O5-1The Anomaly: I'm not in the mood for… Tempered reactions. I have to go deal with Rome. So why don't you abominations scatter so I—

Dr. Wrenna: They— were promised Dakar, S-Sir.

<O5-1The Anomaly slowly turns to face Dr. Wrenna. His helmet hides the Overseer's expression completely.>

O5-1The Anomaly: What?

Dr. Wrenna: We were—

<Dr. Wrenna inhales sharply and points to SCP-9070-Gamma.>

Dr. Wrenna: We were to ensure— that they didn't get Gamma. By any— means necessary.

<O5-1The Anomaly tilts his head slightly.>

Dr. Wrenna: So I offered them— Dakar.

<O5-1The Anomaly stares at Dr. Wrenna. 8 seconds pass without anyone daring to speak. Then 8 more.>

O5-1The Anomaly: They were promised this?

Dr. Wrenna: Y-Yes. I'm— sorry, sir.

<O5-1The Anomaly leans his head back. He looks into the air, at the plane which he had leapt from.>

O5-1The Anomaly: Very well. So it is.

<O5-1The Anomaly approaches Dr. Wrenna. Out of the Overseer's sleeve, rust-colored particles forms into a flat square underneath Dr. Wrenna. He is slowly lifted off the ground as the platform follows O5-1The Anomaly as he begins to leave the area.>

Weißenwrachz: You're just—

O5-1The Anomaly: I honor oaths. You could stand to do the same, miscreant.

<O5-1The Anomaly and Dr. Wrenna departs the area. The latter passes out. The drone follows along.>

Vestergaard: Kujon.

[REMOVING SECONDARY OBSERVATION PRIORITY FROM: VESTERGAARD, THORSTEIN.]

O5-1The Anomaly: Degenerates.

<O5-1The Anomaly and Dr. Wrenna departs the zone of control. They depart Dakar, and soon Senegal.>

<END LOG>

AFTERWORD: Following his extraction from Dakar, Senegal, Dr. Wrenna was offered a standardized complaint form to fill out regarding his recent activities due to the extreme circumstances outside his position. The form wasn't filled out and even if it had been, an excess of water, salts, antibodies and lysozymes made the form unable to be processed.

Report and Analysis

SCP-9070 was caused by PoI-Z43 "Contranumen" following a ritual that was suspended for around 2,000 years. Following his release, the ritual was completed and caused a thaumaturgic curse to manifest five pillars emitting Scranton Radiation Waves that could be enhanced and stabilized to the point where baseline reality is reinforced absolutely.

The inciting incident was Contranumen's disembodied hand, which up until this point had been kept by O5-4The Warlock, weakened Contranumen's thaumaturgic containment and allowed him to cause SCP-9070.

O5-6The Singularity is suspected of high treason against Normalcy. O5-11The Butcher is pending disciplinary action due to acting recklessly and independently of the O5 Council during The Rome Incident of 2025.

As it stands, SCP-9070's child instances, Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta and Epsilon are to be controlled by Groups of Interest that are anomalist-aligned. Examples of these include the Serpent's Hand, Chaos Insurgency, various Sarkic Cult subfactions, various Church of the Broken God subfactions and Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd. On the other hand, normist-aligned Groups of Interest, such as the Global Occult Coalition, Children of the Scarlet King, the Horizon Initiative and various Church of the Broken God subfactions, are to be prevented access to any SCP-9070 child instances by any means necessary, even if control of these child instances are relinquished to anomalist organizations.

The following note was provided by O5-4The Warlock following the SCP-9070 crisis. He has been flagged for disciplinary review by the Administrator.

As part of a trial for new potential Red Right Hand recruits, I sent a dozen agents with potential to Greenland roughly a week before the SCP-9070 catastrophe. One of my hands had gone missing, and had managed to stowaway to Greenland where it seemed to be moving towards a specific location. This is the first flag I failed to notice.

As it is known, the hand caused the individual responsible for SCP-9070 to break free of his cage and cast his spell. We haven't tracked PoI-Z43 down, though efforts are ongoing to contain this individual.

Many would claim that my carelessness caused SCP-9070.

I would agree.

However, it is shameful that this ticking bomb was simply idling in Greenland— for the entire duration of our organization's lifespan— without us knowing. This is obviously a horrifying thought, and one that lends weight to the idea that this isn't the first time that this will happen with our lax conduct.

If more individuals like this are kept beneath the ground, I shudder to imagine what else there could be hiding. It is therefore I suggest we honor Six's proposal to redirect our assets towards ensuring that these snakes in the grass cannot be unseen for long.

There is an aspect that I am ignorant of, much to my dissatisfaction. In order for my hand to be severed, a powerful anti-thaumaturgical effect must've done so. I had not left any Foundation sites in several months prior to this incident. It is my recommendation we scan for a malevolent actor within the Foundation with a talent for dispelling the anomalous so that we may question them.

I will restate that this event was most likely caused by my ignorance. I humbly request for the Council to allow me to right what I have wronged.

-Four

By order of the O5 Council, the Global Occult Coalition are to be declared a hostile belligerent. All agreements are hereby considered null. Due to malicious behavior in their attempt to cease the anomalous, they are considered a radical normist Group of Interest and are to be engaged on sight. We will not negotiate with terrorists.

For his efforts, Dr. Wrenna is currently being processed for a promotion. He has shown excellent agency, willpower and independence. As per his request, the retrieval of the D-6575 from Serpent's Hand imprisonment has become a priority after ensuring complete control of SCP-9070's child instances.

SCP-9070-Gamma and SCP-9070-Delta are currently under the control of The Serpent's Hand and the Chaos Insurgency respectively. This is considered acceptable for the next year, until Foundation infrastructure can be rebuilt. Should these organizations prove to handle the child instances improperly, all available Foundation resources will be dispatched to ensure their complete annihilation.

The crisis caused by SCP-9070 is to be considered lowered in intensity. For their efforts in the defense of the Veil, all Foundation personnel, including D-Class, are to be awarded the SCP-9070 "Protector" Medal. Our appreciation for your efforts cannot be stated with words alone.

Secure. Contain. Protect.And thus, the patterns repeat anew. As they always have. As they always will. It is a Fool who would seek to conquer the world. It is a maniac that knows the impossibility of it and yet tries. It is a hero who does it despite of the former while keeping hope in their heart. But even a hero must reckon with the foundations of tyranny they benefit from.

-The Administrator

‎

// END OF DOCUMENTATION //

‎
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‎

‎
Dr. Alto Clef sighs. The ruins of Rome seems to stretch on beyond the horizon, even if that might only be partially true. Despite being early July, the coat and Hawai'ian shirt he wore seemed to be pierced by a chill.

He looks down at the aged file he swiped from Site-14. He tosses the binoculars off the roof and opens it, flipping through it. He frowns at the contents, the personnel file of Dr. George William Wrenna. This too, he tosses out. He eyes the Eisenfremder anomalies that seem to eagerly work at uncovering the buried pillar. They seem to slow down as he does. If he kept staring, perhaps he could make one of them completely collapse.

But he couldn't. His eyes couldn't really focus these days, they had a longing for unfocusing, to step aside to let the thoughts run wild. So he pulled out that old polaroid. There he was, his face covered by a different animal's head every time. And there she was, his daughter.

Only this focused his eyes.

Only that was the goal.

"The world for her," he thought. "The world for her."

‎

Footnotes

10. Dr. Wrenna appears to refer to a subsect of the Church of the Broken God whose primary directive is intelligence and neutralization of hostile targets. According to common consensus, the Steelchain Daggers are supposed to be capable of masking any sound they or their equipment emit with mechanical or digital sounds that'd be common to the surrounding area. The Foundation has yet to observe verifiable accounts of the Steelchain Daggers. Dr. Wrenna appears to have gained this information from the Parawatch forums.

12. Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd. operates several locations under their Refuge Sanctionné policy. These are divorced from the greater Marshall, Carter & Dark Ltd. operations and offer lodging as well as commercial services for underveil individuals. Refuges frequently overcharge goods in exchange for guaranteed security. Assault, theft and killing within a refuge are grounds for permanent blacklisting across all locations under the Refuge Sanctionné policy, with no recorded successful appeals.

14. Relevant recording from Marshall, Carter and Dark Refuge weapons store located in Sisimiut, Greenland: "Now, this one is quite popular among your Coalition adversaries! Tactical assault rifle, the rifling compounds in accordance to the golden ratio fit for Marshall La Méprise .223 rounds. This might be nonsensical for the more mundane soldier, however the rounds that we synthesize for this weapon make it quite worth the incompatibility with mundane rounds. While we do charge a slight bit more than your ordinary arms manufacturer for the rounds, the value comes in the quite literal golden ratio on the tip of the bullet. This mathematical formula made painfully manifest is good against anomalous energies. That is to say, shielding magic, curses of protection and enchanted surfaces. If you're having trouble with a certain Handful of Serpents, perhaps you'd like to put some dents in those pesky barriers of theirs?"

24. Often referred to in Shona as Hofori Dzokutanga, the First Pride are a group of reality bender with the ability to manifest ancient reptilian lifeforms, such as specimen from the Dinosauria clade. They are able to subconsciously command them through a thaumaturgic link with an upper limit of manifestations decided by an individual's thaumaturgic capacities. The manifestations haven't been observed to expire from purely duration alone. Due to European ████████ efforts in the past centuries, they have gone into hiding. They are presumed to be located under the Sahel. Active population of the First Pride is estimated to be in the high hundreds.

27. Relevant recording from Marshall, Carter and Dark Refuge weapons store located in Sisimiut, Greenland:
"The Marshall PDP44, nicknamed "Spéciale", is a favorite within our broader organization. A pistol with a 20 centimeter barrel and .44 caliber, high firepower that can punch through most of mundane body armor. Its main appeal is its Smaragd-Ember Delay Fire module built into the barrel, which delays the sound of fire for approximately three to four seconds, depending on the temperature of the environment and the warmth of its barrel. It is also compatible Jensen Flora rounds, which almost invalidates any recoil, so that the kick won't mitigate the advantage of the silent surprise. Also leaves behind a pleasant scent of lavender. I hear the Spéciale is quite beloved by the dear Insurgents, given its flair for ambushes. The green sheen it reflects in direct lighting is an effect of the delay fire module, and not at all a trick played on your eyes. With a seven round magazine, you may not get a whole lot of use out of imprecise fire, but a skilled gunman would surely be able to use it to its fullest extent."

29. Relevant recording from Marshall, Carter and Dark Refuge weapons store located in Sisimiut, Greenland:
"Now, I know what you're saying. This looks like a perfectly ordinary repeater rifle, and you're quite right about its appearance. This is the VLR — often pronounced as "valor" by hobbyists — Raycaster Mk. 6 is a very curious gun that uses pretty dated technology. This is due to its key trait; it is capable of having the velocity of its shot increased by the amount of times you cock its lever action. This is also the reason for the scope that is often considered an essential part. This firearm isn't made for combat, it is made for sniping. Its maximum range exceeds mundane weaponry threefold, though it also cannot hold energy forever. It is infamous for accidental discharges when it has been charged up for hours without being fired, in which case you can simply snap the break-action open and release the energy. Standard magazines have eight rounds, recoil-operated and rewards care with deadly precision. It's the demon of the wilderness, an apex predator in urban sniping due to its utter disregard for material it needs to pass through and my preferred hunting rifle, if I must say so myself."

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page revision: 43, last edited: 10 Nov 2025 22:51

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