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Site-120 wasn't a quiet place.
For practically as long as it had existed, it was always filled with one noise or another. At first, it was the shuffling of pages in the newly-discovered library of SCP-5292 the Site was later built on, filled with frantic attempts at comprehending its ununderstandable nature. Then, it was the firing of guns and slings of magic Triumviraté terrorists used in a final and desperate attempt to burn it all down. And then, for almost a century, it was the walks and talks of myriad men and women employed by the facility, trying to bring the two worlds together.
But tonight, there was nothing to be heard within its endless confines.
Dr. Daniel Asheworth sighed with exhaustion, noticing the surprising silence as he took yet another sip from the tea mug, putting it back on his office's desk as the taste of the hot liquid reached his brain. It was late at night, late even for the insomniac he was, and it felt like everyone except him already left the building. Even the never-resting and almost ancient figure of their resident linguist, Dr. Alistair Vemhoff, was already asleep.
There weren't many nights like this, but when they arrived, they always came as a surprise, piercing the seeming routine of standard Foundation work as sharply as a spear. If he was honest, Asheworth wasn't even sure how he ended up still at work so late, but if he had to guess, he'd say it was the magicwork. Weaving spells had never been easy, but the renewal of the 120's protection seals always took literal ages. And it so happened tonight was the day his calendar so unfortunately marked as the renewal day. And he had to make due.
For one final moment that night, Asheworth gazed at the complex and frankly ridiculous previously-invisible magical patterns laying throughout his office, now made fully noticeable by a simple detection spell he cast when he had begun his work. Daniel smiled and nodded to himself quietly, proud of the work he was able to finish tonight.
And yet, despite this pride, Daniel couldn't fully enjoy it. He never could. The whisper of a million wrongs he committed during his duty could not let him go, as much as he thought of himself as a man free of his past. Asheworth shook his head, closing his eyes quietly. It was time to go, he thought as he let those sins be buried for one day more.
Giving the room a final look in an attempt to see if he hadn't left anything important behind, he stretched silently, ending it with a characteristic sigh. Despite the thaumaturge's prolonged youth, something within his back clicked in a manner that just felt wrong, forcing an unpleasant grimace to enter his face. With one hand on his spine, he walked forward, clicking the panel next to the doors in the room with the intent to open them. They complied.
And that was when the rest of reality stopped existing.
Everything outside the small cube he called his office was no more, now replaced by an infinite void of darkness and patterns beyond recognition. If Asheworth wasn't frozen in place by the horror of what he looked into, he'd scream. But paralyzed by the horrors of the outside of reality, he could not.
And then the world-shaped hole gained two, green eyes.
Preparing for the worst, he pushed off the single and obvious memory of what had happened with Nat all those years ago, immediately judging it as utterly impossible and nonsensical. The past he buried at the end of the world and the love for her emerald eyes he killed within himself so many ages ago was gone. That wasn't what plagued him today. It was something even worse.
With a single movement of his fingers he called forth a weapon of pure energy, wielding it with his both gloved hands, ready to strike at whatever the universe decided to make him fight. And that was when he noticed it.
With an almost silent whoosh, his left cheek burned with unimaginable pain, bringing clean the secret he'd held in for most of his life on it. The miniature black crown tattoo made itself visible once more, forcing his mind to race at a speed unknown to him for decades.
It's them, he screamed to himself, panicked beyond any logic and reason. It's over. They found me.
He shuddered internally, drawing out all energy he had in his soul and body into his fingertips, bringing it into the patterns that laid his gloves and suit below. He was nothing more than pure focus, pure power, staring at the court of what was most likely going to be his end. That's where it ends, he thought, silencing a scream of agony within. After Nowak and Mab, this is my finale. I—
Before his mind could finish the sentence, the universe gained two hands as if it tried to make his fear stop. And then it gained a full body.
In the blink of an eye, the lack of anything before him turned into a young brown-haired woman, bags under her emerald eyes. She looked at him, seemingly asking for a lack of fear, condensing all that might and unimaginable power into an attempt to communicate with one of the people that made her life a nightmare for as long as she had lived. He could feel it wasn't an easy gesture for her to make, but the sheer desperation and exhaustion her being held made up for it, he thought. He swallowed hard.
He shuddered upon realizing who that was that stood before him, feeling all that repressed guilt from ages before exploding onto his consciousness, no longer contained and chained down, free once more.
"We need to talk," the woman said, barely holding back her tears.
* * *
Later, silently at the edge of all that is.
"Don't worry," the thaumaturge said, grasping Josephine's hand in a stronger manner, trying to swallow all the suffering he caused without breaking down. "They will understand, I'm sure of it," he chuckled nervously, blinking twice as if it would somehow force the doors before them open.
He was very much not sure of it.
By every single metric he could think of, what he was about to do was treason. As one of the leaders of the project tasked with hunting the woman that stood beside him down for over twenty years, he very much should not doing this. As a member of the SCP Foundation — nay, as one of the Directors of one of its Sites — he shouldn't be doing this either. And, most importantly, as the reject of the Black Court, he should absolutely, under no circumstances — even if anything other meant certain death — ever be doing this.
And yet, there he was — standing before the spire atop the universe within the Wanderers' Library the Black Queens made theirs, side by side with a woman he swore to murder many decades ago. If he had to guess, he'd just say stupid decisions like this were part of his nature. But he was never the type to think of such things, and it was no time for philosophy.
She didn't reply to his reassurance, instead wiping the sweat from her forehead. He could feel her stress in very the essence of her being, filling the hall of the Library around her with fear. He joined her in the silence, staring at the stone slabs of two doors leading to the tower that stood before them, praying for those that were beyond it to listen.
He knew activating the Distress Call was stupid, even more so than coming here in person. But he was desperate. Not for himself, not for his friends, but for someone he hunted for a majority of his life. But such was the beauty of Directive Alpha/1911, he figured, in one final attempt to calm himself down. You learned to change yourself and your approach towards the world alongside the Foundation. And hey, if all it had taken for her to forgive him was a long talk and desperation, then why wouldn't it be the same with the Court?
The doors puffed as the unlocking of thaumaturgic runes protecting the room within from intruders snapped him out of his trance. He shuddered almost unnoticeably, and took the first step forward as the previously-disguised, miniature tattoo of a black crown under his left eye materialized itself back into reality, after almost thirty years of hiding.
She gazed directly into his eyes, hers as nervous as his. Upon seeing the gesture he nodded, as calmly as he could, and showed her to take another step, this time with him. She complied.
One move at a time, the Black and Green Kings entered the blindingly white corridor before them, ready for the worst. From the moment they crossed the threshold, they could feel the doors closing behind them in a way that could only mean it regarded them as the intruders it was meant to protect this place from.
They didn't turn back.
Noticing them from within the dark hall at the end of the world, a single voice pierced the silence around them as they finally entered the throne room at the corridor's end. "Daniel Alliston-Asheworth," Allison Chao, Black Queen Iris, spat out angrily from atop her throne, seated among myriad others of her kind. "Are you finally ready to answer for your crimes?"
Black Queen Iris, passing judgement.
al. cheo et al, also here i guess
Saint Aleston Kao, bringing Light where there is none.
Baseline
God-like reality bender Class-VII, I think chased by her reality's Foundation for not following their doctrines. Emotionally broken by the nightmare the Jailors made her life be, shunned away by those she wanted to protect and in desperate need of rest. Brought forward by the Court — despite its protests — by the King in Black /why is he even still allowed in/ following his activation of the Signal (because the news he wasn't actually dead got us by surprise, as much as I hate to let him in). Legally named Josephine. /no surname/ (Her parents were murdered. Of course she doesn't know her surname).
Prerequisites
Native only to TL-1911 /despite whatever the hell they've going on they're still a bunch of bastards, aren't they/ Indeed they are. Existence of an SCP Foundation seemingly redeeming itself, only to betray the hopes of people like her. + the existence of mass reality bender murders leading to the death of her parents setting her on the path she ended up on, i guess. And, of course, the existence of the traiterous Black King himself and, by extension, the Queen that took care of him and her betrayal.
"The Court has already told you," she shouted once more, standing up from her seat of power. "You are not welcome here. The Gathering does not wish to hear from you, no matter how valuable the asset you're carrying may be to us."
The entire hall was built around a circular portion him and Josephine were standing on, with an audience full of the uncountable Black Queens atop myriad seats, set up in such a way each of them could see the judged below them. Despite their number, they did not speak a single word, instead entirely focused on gazing into the souls of the intruders.
Asheworth tried to speak up, coming forward, only to be interrupted by a bored tone, coming from a black-haired woman inhabiting one of the thrones above him, looking at her lazurite nails. "Go away. We do not care for the girl, nor do we care for you."
Josephine raised her eyebrow, giving Daniel a confused look. He cleared his throat, correcting his slightly longer black hair, and inhaling deeply. "I understand—"
"You don't understand anything," the towering voice of Alison Iris pierced his soul, making him back off slightly. "You have demonstrated your loyalty when you ran away even after she saved you from the flames of your own home all those years ago." He shuttered, closing his eyes in an attempt to sway away the image of his parent's fate, the caretaking that followed, and her inevitable "treason" and death. She smiled, noticing his agony. "You remember, don't you, how you repaid your saviors by joining the organization we were meant to destroy?!" She was practically shouting.
He somehow found the courage within himself to respond. "Please," he pointed at Josephine. "For her, give me a second cha—"
Another Queen, this time from behind him and full of robotic augmentations, scoffed. "You had your second chance when we allowed her to give up her seat for you after she betrayed us first. We won't make that mistake again. Our multiversal projects can't afford it." Not caring for his answer, she went back to reading something on her laptop; seemingly the schematics of some sort of cannon.
He didn't know how to respond.
"You are useless to us." Iris continued, glancing at the duo with an infectious feeling of superiority. "You have always been useless to us, and you will always be useless to us. There's only one thing I can say, with all this in mind." She paused for a second, looking around her fellow Allisons, only to grind a furious sentence out a moment later. "Get. Out."
As the thaumaturgist backed off again, he was suddenly stopped by the girl beside him. She looked directly in his gray eyes, and was the one to nod this time, taking a step forward, challenging the Court with just her presence.
"He might be useless." She looked up at the billion Queens above her, ready to answer to anything they could throw her against. "But I don't have to."
Vulnerability
rejection. that's all it would take to utterly destroy her once more after she came here with him, hoping for acceptance.
Iris raised her eyebrow, drawing attention to the crown-like tattoo below her deep, gray eyes. Josephine couldn't believe it took her this long to realize that each of the women present in the Court had one of those. Despite all their differences, it seemed a constant throughout all manifestations, making all the dark monarchs into something more than just one person. For as little as she'd known them, Josephine thought it indeed perfectly fit their characters, no matter how seemingly different they were.
"And what would that be, special girl?" The Queen asked, irony seeping from her lips. "What can you offer us the ten billion Allison Chaos present don't already possess?"
The reality-bender smirked slightly, looking directly into the Queen's eyes and blinking twice. Her previously green irises snapped into pure purple in just a moment, letting the ontokinesis within her out of its cage of masquerading. The smirk eventually turned into a grimace. Her eyes followed soon after.
"Power."
Have you all utterly lost your mind? She's almost a god. Her kind doesn't take opposition or rejection too well, I'm afraid.
The Court collectively broke into laughter, barely believing the words it just witnessed. For a stranger to have such bravery, such audacity! It was unthinkable to the countless women gathered as one body, yet somehow it filled them with laughter at the same time. But Josephine saw it much, much differently.
For you see, through their tears of hilarity, the Queens didn't quite notice a very simple yet entirely game-changing modification to their environment. Too busy to care about anything other than themselves, the Court dared to not look at the girl for a single moment. And she used that to her advantage, channeling the frustration of broken childhoods and destroyed lives to conjure up unimaginable power.
You're forgetting she's still only human. Do you really think it's beyond the capacity of the Court to kill someone like her? Don't be ridiculous.
With just a snap of her fingers, Josephine began to levitate, matching her eye level with that of the Iris Queen. The other caught on just seconds after, filling her very being with fear beyond comprehension. The Court was filled with a scream, making the entire hall tremble with the power of the two voices that broke its silence.
^ plus yknow we can ju
The document the Queens had been editing with their insights for as long as they'd been together was shaken too, forcing each of the Allisons to look for the cause of this disturbance. It inevitably brought their sight towards Josephine.
"COURT OF THE MONARCHS OF BLACK, LISTEN TO MY WORDS." She spat out, continuing to move herself upward, a bright purple emanating from her eyes. "FOR YEARS UNCOUNTED, YOU'D BEEN YOUR OWN TRAITORS."
Even though neither Asheworth nor the Queens thought they could be more surprised than they already were, their confusion and anger increased tenfold upon those words meeting their ears.
"WHEN YOU FIRST BANDED YOURSELF MANY WORLDS AGO, YOU SWORE TO DESTROY THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE MULTIVERSAL COMPASS, THE CHAINS IMPRISONING LOVE AS WE KNOW IT." Tendrils of pure power expanded from her body, making their way towards each of the observers, safe for the thaumaturge below. If the Court wasn't paralyzed by shock, it perhaps might have stopped the structures entangling each of its members, forcing them to listen to the words of the demigod in front of them."YOU SWORE TO KILL ALL THAT STAGNATES, ALL THAT MURDERS THE HOPES OF CHANGE, THE HOPES OF TRUE PEACE."
As if they were just one organism, the myriad women sitting in their thrones shuddered with fear, making their eyes burn with the purple of the reality-bender. They tried to resist, but before her still not full power, they were nothing.
"AND YET, ALL THOSE YEARS LATER, YOU BETRAYED YOUR OWN VIRTUES, BECOMING THE VERY THING YOU SWORE TO DESTROY. YOU REFUSE THE REVOLUTION YOU YOURSELF ARE, FOREVER IGNORANT TO YOUR HYPOCRICY." She raised her arms. "FOR THIS, I, JOSEPHINE LU—"
The reality-bender suddenly grunted in a mixture of both exhaustion and pain, snapping off her connection with the Allisons before her as the mental strain got to her, rendering her useless. The near-godess was strong, but controlling a billion multiversal escapees for longer than a single moment was beyond strength. Even for someone as powerful as her.
She began to rapidly fall towards the floor, seemingly unconscious. The previously static from shock Asheworth immediately caught on. With just a few moves of his hands he began to draw elaborate patterns around him, as if his fingers were chalk.
As she was about to meet her end, the thaumaturge snapped his fingers, bringing the magic around him to life. The various shapes and circles he made extended forming into clouds, in one final attempt to catch the one they were meant to protect.
When they succeeded, he gently put her down on the cold floor below him.
He'd never seen the Court in a bigger shock. Not even when the person that took care of him when he burned his house down dared to oppose them, saying this reality's Foundation should not be destroyed, all those years ago. They all stood there, with not a single word to speak out, in utter and total incomprehension of what had just happened.
When the various Queens regained their senses, Iris looked down at him once more, this time with much more humiliation than he'd ever seen in all the time he'd known her. He repaid her with a similar look, but he felt no fear — instead, his gray eyes were full of confidence.
He smirked. "So, how will it be?"
* * *
Utility
none.
Infinite power, finally bringing us closer to our goal.
Weapon like we'd never seen, making the world ours.
00138 66314 9913264 002319645
friend! :3
Messianism, forcing belief into the hearts of the heretics.
For what felt like millennia, the Court spoke between itself. Myriad individuals from different backgrounds, realities, and contexts, each connected with one single goal in mind like always, yet this time weirdly different. For the first time since their first meeting, they thought not to destroy the Foundation, no. They thought about change.
"It all began with that idiot and her pupil," one voice said, angry at the entire concept even being considered. "We needn't have ever let them in."
"By this logic, should we have never let any of us in, either?" another responded, trying to bring reason into the discussion. "I'm beginning to think maybe she had a point."
For hours without end the talks would go on, making the monarchs that participated argue with each other, for the first time in ages. They all had their reasons, of course — it wouldn't be normal for uncounted millions to simply agree with one of them that leaving this dimension alone would be wise. Ultimately however, they were all meaningless, no matter their truth, for the multiverse had already agreed on the fight's outcome before their worlds were even formed.
And, after a while, they agreed on their destined path too, forever unintentionally following the fate that put them all where they sat in the first place. With just one word spoken out by Iris they all fell silent, knowing it was decided. There was no further need for anything, for it was done.
What followed was a single edit to the noospheric-driven file they all had access to, making the screens of their countless devices blink once more. This light pierced the darkness of the spire and their hearts alike, making both alive for just one second longer than usual. But it did not make them blink with hatred and scheming, no — for a single moment in reality, it broke their cycle of anger, bringing surprise to the Queens for the second time this evening.
Despite the countless and unique women the Court of the Black was made up of, despite all its experience it shared among itself, despite all the stories and knowledge it stole from itself and the Library it made its own, the edit made their stone-cold souls blink with something they were yet to know, for the first time in more than a century.
Utility
none.
Infinite power, finally bringing us closer to our goal.
Weapon like we'd never seen, making the world ours.
00138 66314 9913264 002319645
friend! :3
Messianism, forcing belief into the hearts of the heretics.
A vessel for change.
Black Queen Iris, passing judgement.
al. cheo et al, also here i guess
Saint Aleston Kao, bringing Light where there is none.
Green Queen Josephine, reporting in.
It made them blink with change.