RP An Anomalously Dangerous Encounter

Fang

Fang

Active member
Catian wasn’t usually in the habit of blindly wandering into unknown territory, but as the story of Pollux and Behemoth pricked his interests during the lecture at L-14 he couldn’t resist following his curiosity. As Harold Stines scribbled notes and discussed the lecture material the interest proved too much to suppress, and Catian was there, perfectly positioned equally between CU-7-404 and CU-7-666. The hallways was well lit, whether from the reflective white of the concrete walls and tiles or from the number of fluorescent lights it was almost glaring. The nearly beading moisture that slicked both floors and walls added to the reflection, casting rays of broken luminance like textured paint.

For a moment he was torn between the two options before him. On one hand there sat a veritable mountain of animalistic anomaly, the Behemoth who was rumored to grow exponentially with each tick of passing time. On the other a conversation, whether with words or something else, the more humanoid Pollux offered a chance at information from a time before Catian’s entry into this world. Information was always a good thing to have, even if it was forbidding or melancholy, there was a purpose in both positive and negative information that gave it a balance he appreciated instinctively. That being said, he also had a deep connection with more primal creatures whose decisions were as truly neutral as any could be. Their motivations and capacities were always of the same notes, and that was a refreshing relief from the burdens of human sentience.

He hadn’t bothered to disguise himself as normal person, even his lupine ears were present among his luminously white hair, though the locks were mostly pulled back into a short ponytail. His clothes were comparatively normal, however, consisting of a blue t-shirt with the usual -Valor- emblazoned in red on his chest, a pair of well fitting black jeans that were starting to show signs of wear at the knees, and a pair of black steel-toe boots. The Catian still attending the lecture at L-14 might have had a reason to hide who he really was, but here Catian wanted it to be known who had come to call. His right ear twitched and he turned his head toward that end of the hall and the large bay doors that offered no hint as to which of the anomalies resided within. For a moment he considered asking one of the heavily armed guards that stood between him and the door.

Despite their position it had seemed that Catian’s appearance was taking a moment to process in their minds. None of them had made much of a move, though one had leveled a savage looking rifle at Catian and caused the rustle that drew his attention. Slowly, gently, Catian raised his right hand with the palm forward toward the guards. ”I know this looks bad, guys, I know. Trust me, you don’t want to make this a big deal.” That probably wasn’t true, though. Their very jobs were to make a big deal out of something like this, and it was unlikely they would take his word that they wouldn’t be very pleased with the result of their orders, should they choose to follow them in this instance. Still, he held his position and waited for the guards to make their decision. If they chose violence he would simply bypass them, but if they chose to be cordial he was prepared to whet his curious appetite with whatever information they were willing to offer in conversation. He would visit the anomalies that had caught his interest, though, just as Harold Stines was doing at the other location.
 
[div style="background-color:#52595d;border-top:#8a0303 4px outset;border-left:#52595d 4px inset;border-right:#8a0303 4px outset;border-bottom:#52595d 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#52595d 4px inset;border-left:#8a0303 4px outset;border-right:#52595d 4px inset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"][font color="dimgray"]DATE: 6.10.2023
LOCATION: L-7 Level E; hall outside CU-7-404
ASSETS:
{Security Team Alpha-7 "SCAPEGOATS" >}Team Lead: Tomek “Dagon” Balaskas, A-Class-E [LEVIATHAN STAFF: COMBAT SECURITY PERSONNEL].
Other Members Present:
> Erica “Angel” Buckley, A-Class-D [COMBAT SECURITY PERSONNEL].
> Andres “Mountain” Colman, A-Class-D [COMBAT SECURITY PERSONNEL].
> Philip “Coyote” Fox, A-Class-D [COMBAT SECURITY PERSONNEL].
> Claudia “Manta” Higgins, A-Class-D [COMBAT SECURITY PERSONNEL].
> Russell “Rusty” Kemp, A-Class-D [COMBAT SECURITY PERSONNEL].
> Rick “New Amsterdam” McMillan, A-Class-D [COMBAT SECURITY PERSONNEL].
> Glenn “Ceto” Olson, A-Class-D [COMBAT SECURITY PERSONNEL].
> Jamal “Moses” Sader, A-Class-D [COMBAT SECURITY PERSONNEL].
> Patel “Judgment” Santeri, A-Class-D [COMBAT SECURITY PERSONNEL].
EQUIPMENT: SEE CONTAINMENT MEASURE ACF-404-LAMBDA “SCAPEGOATS”
PURPOSE: Security L-7-E-CU-404; final emergency containment measure.
–> Added Purpose: Identify and Counteract Intrusion by U Entity[/font]


Dagon did not instruct Rusty to lower his rifle. Or Ceto, when she processed the intruder’s presence. This had nothing to do with the surprise of having a visitor at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, although as he remained relaxed he did not appear to have fully processed the situation yet himself. But Dagon did not end up as one of the Scapegoats’ rotational team leads by hesitating in the face of danger. He was a security agent, and situations like this were best begun with observation. That, and a pair of orders, delivered with perfect calm.

“Judgment, contact observation level. Unknown Entity, remain where you are.”

The other six members of Alpha-7 followed his lead and remained static while Judgment activated a body camera on his shoulder and then touched the side of his helmet. This team wasn’t designed to protect the anomaly from the outside world, although in the last five years there had been one unprecedented and unapproved Terminations attempt that had led them to keep two of their heavily-armed agents prepared for intrusion, rather than breach of containment.

“Observation level, this is Alpha-7-10, inform commanding officer of an intrusion on Level E outside right-hand containment unit. Over.”

[font color="acacac"]“Observation center to Judgment, copy that. We have visual. Relaying to CO now. Maintain nonaggression. Over.”[/font]

Dagon stepped forward, and the rest of the formation outside CU-7-404 shifted around his absence. Rusty and Ceto moved to his sides, weapons still trained on the Unknown. His own arsenal was different, per containment measures; Alpha-7-01 had what was essentially a glorified cattle-prod, as objects that produced electric currents were rather effective against a man that held metal against bare skin despite his high pain tolerance and intense regenerative abilities. That was in his left hand, lowered. On his right arm was a large carbon-fiber shield with the design of Alpha-7’s goat logo printed on it, white against black. All team members’ faces were fully obscured by their helmets – not so much because identity was an issue, but because none of them would want to take a stray dagger between the eyes in the case of a full breach of containment. Dagon’s voice was warped by the need for a speaker to communicate externally, and echoed strangely down the hall with a static crackle.

“Unknown entity, identify yourself and state your purpose. Be advised you are in a heavily secured location, and aggression will be met with force.”

The formality was oddly contrasted to the entity’s casual plea against making this “a big deal”, but as he’d rightly observed, there were a long list of measures that had to be met. Yet Dagon was not treating this as a behavior that looked bad – he was almost treating it like a daily occurrence, not a break in the tedium that came with standing vigilant watch over an entity that hadn’t fully breached in five years. Procedure, nothing more.
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Another weapon was leveled steadily at Catian, though that was the extent of the group’s initial reaction. They each wore helmets that obscured their faces, expressions unfathomable beneath the their visors. Despite the defensive nature of the trained rifles, there didn’t seem to be any panic from the guards, as Catian might have expected from a group that wasn’t organized under the Foundation’s order. An electric voice, muffled through the speaker that served to carry it past the protective barrier of the helm, issued an order in Catian’s direction as the apparent leader of the group. Slowly the traveler lowered his hand and abided by the command, remaining where he stood with an expression nearing on boredom. It was better than the alternative, however, and offered him a chance to pick up information before meeting the anomalies in person.

”Unknown? Really? I suppose that is better than being classified as a hostile entity, though I would have thought by now I would at least have started a few rumors in this place.” Catian smiled genuinely at the man who had stepped forward. ”My name is Catian Valor, and I just came to meet the anomaly behind that door.” Catain gestured to the bay door vaguely before putting his hand to his chin. ”Would that be four oh four, or six sixty six? Either one would be fine by me, but it is nice to know who you’re going to be dealing with beforehand.”

The hallway seemed to darken, the lights above somehow dimming in the split second that Catian moved from where he stood to where the two rifles were being held. The formation was well coordinated, and the space he had decided to occupy was barely enough for his frame behind their leader. Each of his hands rested on the barrels of the guns, a light touch that held no violence. ”I have no aggressive intentions, but these certainly aren’t toys. I could counter your warning with one of my own. You aren’t prepared to start an altercation with me.” A ripple through the material of the weapons served as the only preamble to their sudden change, rifled barrels and gunpowder replaced with sticks and lovely purple flowers that sprouted from the bends.

He took his place back in the middle of the hall, his action made in the span of a few breaths and his words seeming to come from the very air around them. His smile was still genuine, completely relaxed and complacent despite the resistance he was already facing. Given the nature of both of the anomalies he intended to investigate Catian could hardly blame their caution. Violence often beget more violence, and a strange intruder was unlikely to have pure intentions in this particular hallway. Catian didn’t consider himself strange or an intruder, though. It was probably going to take some convincing for the guardians to come to a similar conclusion. Briefly he considered skipping their reply, and going into the containment unit of his own accord. The inaudible thrum of the camera on the leader’s chest warned him that doing so would only result in a larger force being sent to retrieve him, and that was far more of an inconvenience than he was willing to endure. Better to speak with the current group and hope for permission than to immediately do whatever he would like.
 
[div style="background-color:#52595d;border-top:#8a0303 4px outset;border-left:#52595d 4px inset;border-right:#8a0303 4px outset;border-bottom:#52595d 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#52595d 4px inset;border-left:#8a0303 4px outset;border-right:#52595d 4px inset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]Dagon watched as Valor – easy to remember, designation on shirt – offered him a friendly smile. Even under the helmet, he didn’t return it. An anomaly present to meet with 404 or 666 was… undesirable. Bad security. There was a name, though, and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Judgment was still transmitting. The camera light blinked, and Judgment nodded once. Dagon turned his head back toward the entity, which was no longer there.

A blink, and the weird had started. The agent’s instincts kicked in as the voice and presence moved to behind him for just a moment. The body turned halfway, shield raised, a thumb turning a switch on the prod with a slight hum. The world settled back to the way it was supposed to be, besides the two altered weapons, and then a message crackled through for all members of Alpha-7.

[font color="acacac"]“Observation center to Scapegoats. Entity identified as U-3473 Catian Valor, the Traveler. Valor is classed as a Deity-level ontokinetic. Do not attempt engagement. I repeat, do not attempt forceful engagement. Still contacting CO. Maintain conversation. Over.”[/font]

Ceto looked down at her gun, then turned her head past Dagon to Rusty. “Now they tell us.”

Rusty barked a little laugh in response. Maybe less experienced teams would be more impressed by the presence of a Deity-Class reality bender, or maybe even afraid. But there was something inherently wrong in the fear response of volunteer agents sent to the ocean floor to die if asked. They were not being asked, now. In fact they were being asked to take the safer option. In the back of the group, Coyote muted his helmet’s speaker.

“Alpha-7-04 to observation. Recommended action if entity becomes hostile? Over.”

Another universal message for Scapegoats. [font color="acacac"]“Observation center. Only recommended course of action is evacuation while artificial breach is initiated and anomalous asset is deployed. Over.”[/font]

“Mhm. Copy.” He tapped his helmet again. Someone had to verify that this was exactly as serious as they’d made it sound. And if they were thinking about releasing either anomaly down here in this situation, it absolutely was.

Dagon nodded, slowly, and his thumb found the switch. The electric current died. His shield lowered again. As Valor had just shown, this wasn’t a situation where it would help him. His orders were here, however. Maintain conversation until CO called observation center with further instructions.

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but neither anomaly is much for conversation.” Normally, he’d be concerned about two of ten members of his team not having appropriate firearms, but given he was standing in the hallway outside with a Deity-class entity he highly doubted a breach by 404 would be an actual problem at this point. “The one’s an animal. The other might as well be. I have authorization to fill in, if you’d like.”
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For a brief moment it seemed that Catian had crossed a line, a fact which only bothered him because he had not intended to drop in on the guards for the purpose of a fight. Perhaps he had once been focused on his abilities in combat, but countless years had tempered that urge to prove how powerful he truly was. He chalked it up to finally understanding the truth of what and who he was and was to be, but he had met plenty of elderly warriors who had stated their own diminished desires over cups of ale.

The speakers in the helmets buzzed, the voice on the other end ordering that the guards avoided conflict, a sentiment Catian was almost as thankful for as the explanation of who he was. When the electric prod clicked off and one of the guards with a vaguely feminine voice elicited a laugh from the other stick-gun wielding compatriot with her comment Catian joined the humor with his own light chuckle. Content that the rifles weren’t going to be brought to bear against him they were returned to their natural state, though their barrels sported one of the lovely purple blooms at their ends. He vaguely recalled seeing a reference in media to this being a call for peace during some long past war, but he also thought a bit of color in the otherwise dreary hallway would certainly do no harm.

The leader addressed him directly, and Catian shrugged as an initial response. ”I understand that might be a complication for a normal person, but it doesnt change my intention Mr….” Catian waved his hand toward the leader, ”I’m sorry, I forgot to ask after your names. It would also be much easier to talk if at least one of you would remove your helmet.” He looked around the hallway dramatically, then turned back to the guards. ”I don’t think you have to worry about either of them escaping, and I have no intention of letting them free myself. Should the worst come to pass I assure you I will protect you better than those will.” Whether any of them removed their helms or left them in place, Catian snapped his fingers to summon a dozen chairs around a round table decorated with teas and cakes.

”While we wait for your commanders to decide how this will go we could talk, if you would prefer. I find it difficult to speak with most of the Foundation’s more militaristic teams given my anomalous nature in your world. You seem like an unflappable bunch, though, and I can imagine you haven’t had much of chance to relax while you are on duty.” He waved to the empty chairs and he settled into one himself, casually pouring the inexplicably hot contents of the simple metal teapot into the china cup nearest him. A slightly floral, almost fruity scent filled the air as he took a slow sip before tossing a few cubes of sugar into the cup as well.
 
[div style="background-color:#52595d;border-top:#8a0303 4px outset;border-left:#52595d 4px inset;border-right:#8a0303 4px outset;border-bottom:#52595d 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#52595d 4px inset;border-left:#8a0303 4px outset;border-right:#52595d 4px inset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]The team looked to Dagon for direction. Of course they did – that was protocol, and every one of these agents was combat security. Protocol was life or death to them. But every one of them had also experienced the moment when protocol didn’t cover for something – and this was one of those moments, which left them looking to their Team Lead for direction.

“Right. We’re not quite used to polite company anymore. Helmets off, boys and girls, it’s not like they’re doing anything for us now. Judgment, inform observation you’re transferring to earpiece.”

Static-warped laughter came on cue. The whole team was rough around the edges, one way or another, but that didn’t change that they were the best. And it didn’t change that they trusted Dagon’s opinion as the best of the best.

“I’m oh-one. Tommy Dagon.” He’d initiate naming parameters, too, might as well. Let Valor decide whether he wanted first names or callsigns. Most of the team was American of mixed heritage, but Tomak had strong Middle Eastern features, as did Jamal; Patel was distinctly Indian; and Andres most likely Mexican-American. “You’ve met Ten, Patel Judgment.”

The Indian man nodded his head, and Tommy started to list and point.

“02, Erica Angel, 03, Andres Mountain–”

“Pun intended,” Mountain added, grinning through crooked teeth.

“04, Phil Coyote– ”

“Kie-oht.”

“Oh, shut up, Phil. 05, Claudia Manta, 06, Russel Rusty–” Rusty raised his now-a-rifle-again “–07, Ricky New Amsterdam, 08, Glenn Ceto–” Ceto also raised her now-a-rifle-again, as she tucked her flower into her black hair “–and 09, Jamal Moses. Collectively, we’re the Scapegoats.”

Every team member had the wear-and-tear of Foundation veterans, some even of former military vets. Scars, age lines, white or gray hairs, and that caution without fear that came from long exposure to death. Dagon especially seemed– how had the Travelersaid it? Unflappable. Sure, why not. Before Leviathan snapped him up for glorified babysitting duty, he’d been stationed at L-9, so reality-warping didn’t shake him as much as it might some others. And his team looked to him.

They sat in numeric order around the table, clockwise from Catian. The pattern wasn’t discussed. It just happened. That meant the only one immediately beside the Deity entity was Dagon, who, again, seemed unbothered. Coyote and Ceto set upon the cakes like they were starving. Judgment, when he was finished confirming with Observation Center that everything was alright, set about inspecting the teas. The others all started to pick at the food, except Dagon, who didn’t take food from anything that didn’t seem to be from earth. An old L-9 habit.

Maybe this would seem odd, for anyone who knew the Foundation’s security personnel and their usual attitude toward the anomalous, this decision to sit down and have a tea party with an unknown factor. But Judgment gave a handsign to Dagon that Observation Center didn’t say to stop, so he decided to give his guys a long-deserved break. Why not? Stuck here at the bottom of the sea, basically waiting for a breach that would probably kill most of them, maybe all of them. And besides, Valor was right – it wasn’t like they got a break on a job like this. They could sleep when they were dead, but there was no way to know if the hell of their choice would have little cupcakes.

Dagon waited for things to settle before turning back to the Traveler. “Alright, Mr. Valor, I guess I'm cleared to brief you. What do you want to know.”
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A polite nod or a slight wave was given to the ten guards as they introduced themselves, and as they tucked into the fare Catian had provided more appeared, replacing the cakes already consumed and adding foods of more substance to the empty spaces between. Sausages and rolls, cheeses and crackers, all manner of finger foods to satiate some of their more hefty appetites more than the little cakes could offer. Catian contented himself with his tea, sipping at it silently with a sort of noble grace that would have served him better in the courts of his own realm.

At Dagon’s words he smiled, revealing his canines and their slight elongation more fully at their proximity, before he set the cup down with a soft clink onto its matching saucer. ”I’m afraid my questions might be of a very basic nature, Sir Dagon. The paperwork available at L-14 is, unfortunately, heavily redacted regarding anomalies contained elsewhere.” He set two files down onto the table, the question of how long he had been holding them almost headache inducing. Regardless of where and when he had brought them out he flipped the top file open, revealing a paper titled “ACF-404: Pollux” filled with little black boxes that seemed only to spare articles from censorship.

”Now, I have been made aware of how Pollux and Behemoth were pitted against one another, but what I would ask of you regards their respective abilities. Pollux, I have heard, is immortal, and the Behemoth exhibits an accelerated and uncapped growth rate. Could you enlighten me as to where they were found, and perhaps their dispositions before I go in?” Catian pointed to the door, acutely aware that the guards might not take kindly to his assumption they would allow him to fulfill his goal. Had he been the type to poison his enemies he might have already won any future altercations, but he had offered the respite out of sympathy for the crew, without ulterior motives. He couldn’t fault Dagon for his reservation, though. In fact it was a testament to his prudence, and indicative of why he was put in command.

”Of course, anything you think would be of any use in there would also be appreciated. While I am not too concerned for my own safety, I would be quite upset should my curiosity lead to problems for you or your people. If they have any tricks that could inadvertently cause me to release them I would be warned of them beforehand.”
 
[div style="background-color:#52595d;border-top:#8a0303 4px outset;border-left:#52595d 4px inset;border-right:#8a0303 4px outset;border-bottom:#52595d 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#52595d 4px inset;border-left:#8a0303 4px outset;border-right:#52595d 4px inset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]Valor was a curious guy, it seemed. Dagon only noted the sharp teeth as a potential threat, and that only in passing. He didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the clear warp in reality - ontokinetics, man - but he did see Mountain stop stuffing his face with finger sandwiches long enough to clarify: "Reality-warper."

Mountain resumed stuffing his face, and Dagon returned his attention to the ontokinetic and his questions. "L-14. That kid Redd's there, right? Makes sense there isn't much on Pollux. It's rough getting caught in the middle of that kind of thing. Rougher to survive, I think." He still didn't touch tea or food. His focus shifted to the actual questions he'd been asked. "There've been sightings of 404 and 408 - that's Castor, much more relaxed than this guy - around the world. Lots of historical stuff I guess research can't actually corroborate until World War II, when Castor was seen throughout the European theater and Pollux apparently worked for the Soviets. They called him Volk. Seems like that didn't last. We finally pinned them down at the height of the Cold War in Iraq."

He glanced down the hall, past Catian, toward the farther door that was currently out of sight around a slight bend.

"Six Six Six isn't technically my department, but I do know we found it with a GoI back in the late eighties. Don't know which one, but according to everyone it was about the size of a Newfie - Newfoundland dog, sorry. Obviously it's had a little bit of a growth spurt given it's roughly the size of Godzilla."

Angel cleared her throat. "When it first came in they put it through the ringer of experiments before Dr. Nien took over as head vet for level-one locations. Quietest guy I've ever met, but I heard he was [EXPLETIVE]ed when he saw the things they'd put it through. Revamped its whole routine and started pressuring the last Leviathan for more humane measures for zoological anomalies. Called Six-Sixty-Six 'Benny' or something. Eventually people around here got comfortable but the name kinda shifted over time. Now we just call her Bessie."

"Because of that early stuff, Bessie doesn't really do strangers," Moses added. "You should be careful if you want to approach her. Hard to reason with an animal that doesn't even always notice you."

"Not as hard as tats, though, eh?" Coyote talked around his food, but nobody seemed to care. There were just nods of assent.

Dagon took back over at that point. "With 404, you'll get one of two responses. Either he won't acknowledge that you exist, or he'll try to kill you - and I wouldn't put him past trying that on even you, to the point of seeming suicidal. Sometimes it's both in order. He is as far as we've been able to determine functionally immortal. Throws himself at a problem until it dies or he passes out. They tried bleeding him to death, but his body regenerates blood faster than anything. The only thing it takes a long time to regenerate is iron content, which as far as I can tell is a built-in self-destruct. If he doesn't kill something fast enough, he goes comatose." Another pause, this one more considerate. "He's hit a new record of the quiet period, though. I'd go in expecting that. His old record was three years. It's been four and a half now. Liable to snap at any point, but hell, he's let his primary researcher sit in there and talk at him and didn't so much as twitch in their direction. Dangerous to think an old dog's change his tricks - no offense, Mr. Valor - but I don't expect him to act any differently unless you instigate him somehow."

Ceto leaned over to New Amsterdam, hiding her mouth from Catian's side of the table.

"Fifty on the ontokinetic killing him if that happens."

New Amsterdam smirked around the crescent roll he was chewing on, then returned the secretive gesture.

"I'll bump it up to a hundred that Tats won't stay down."

And then they went back to eating, like the exchange never happened.
 
Despite his expectations the exchange was somewhat pleasant, the information offered willingly and without concern. It seemed that Dagon was truly cleared to give Catian whatever information he desired, a fact noted and tucked away. The traveler had a sneaking suspicion that his visit would be used as a chance to collect more data, and though he didn’t particularly have a problem with freely sharing the information it did rankle him a touch to think that he might be used so surreptitiously. He had been nothing but helpful to the Foundation to date.

With that set aside he listened raptly, resting his elbow on the table to cradle his chin in his hand. He had suspected 404 would have insight into the time before Catian had arrived on this world, but he hadn’t expected him to be completely adverse to conversation. The whispered bet between Ceto and New Amsterdam caused his lupine ears to twitch, but he showed no sign that he had heard otherwise. For a moment he kept his eyes, ever shifting hues swirling around black holes, on the leader of the guards, considering the information he had been given. When he finally lifted his chin from his hand he also rose from his seat.

”I see. Both present a similar challenge, though they seem so dissimilar. He walked around the table, a pensive hand to his chin as he made his way to the bay doors. ”If they both are similarly nonverbal, I suppose it doesn’t matter which I approach first, though a human figure would usually indicate the capacity for speech, at least. Despite your warnings I think I would try for the immortal before the beast. It can be tiresome connecting with the mind of an animal that has been abused as you have indicated Bessie to have been.” He placed a hand on the door, palm first as if testing the temperature. A soft hum filled the air, akin to the buzzing of the fluorescent lights though at a much lower tone. His image blurred, appearing to vibrate at impossibly high speeds before his hand slowly began to sink into the metal.

”Wish me luck,” he said before stepping through the solid bay doors.

However, he also didn’t walk through the doors, the blur of his body seeming to elongate in that moment he stepped through until Catian was simply standing there, with his hand pressed against the door as he had started. As if he had not said the words Catian removed his hand, and turned to retake his seat next to Dagon. ”Tell me more about Bessie. What kind of animal does she appear to be? Has she demonstrated any other abilities beyond her size?” Perhaps the guards could ascertain what Catian had done, had managed to see that moment he duplicated himself to both continue the conversation as well as his investigation into the room beyond the doors. The Catian here would serve as a last line of defense, should the Anomaly known as Pollux manage to outsmart or overpower him beyond the door.
 
[div style="background-color:#52595d;border-top:#8a0303 4px outset;border-left:#52595d 4px inset;border-right:#8a0303 4px outset;border-bottom:#52595d 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#52595d 4px inset;border-left:#8a0303 4px outset;border-right:#52595d 4px inset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]Dagon watched the Traveler in return, his own eyes warm and brown and moving only in the smallest increments. They were not the searching eyes of a researcher. Security was made of much sterner stuff. His mind was unreadable through expression alone. He had no questions for the anomaly as he considered the information he had been given and made use of it.

As Catian rose, Dagon's eyes were drawn to Judgment, who made a quick series of urgent hand gestures that caused Scapegoat 01's brow to furrow. [PRIMARY RESEARCHER] en route. That should've been predictable, but at the same time, it was not good. He was glad the Traveler's mind was already elsewhere. To introduce a Deity Class Entity to this specific anomaly's primary researcher was... extremely bad for security. Although, given the bilocation trick that made New Amsterdam almost choke on a cracker he'd improvised into a tiny pizza by crumbling a sausage over the cheese, maybe it would only matter of the Traveler knew about the primary researcher's presence.

He moved a hand, which drew everyone's attention, quite possibly even Catian's, but that was not his focus.

New Objective. A gesture towards Judgment, who repeated the earlier signal. Various expressions of confusion and then realization and then helpless frustration passed around the circle, but didn't last more than a moment or two. Security meant not drawing any more attention to the problem than there already would be.

Angel became spokesperson. "Part of the anomaly is that we can't really tell if it's supposed to be a mammal or a reptile or some kind of evolutionary in-between. We do know that there's no way there are more of it in the wild, it's way too big for any ecosystem to sustain for long. It's got predatory features but according to Dr. Nien and extensive testing is very content on an omnivorous diet. It seems to prefer a mix, actually - coniferous trees, both wood and leaf, mostly beef and pork for protein, and then... whatever other organic matter they can get their hands on, really. It's uh- well, it's a huge improvement from the first few years. They were making her eat Class-As for that first decade for [EXPLETIVE]'s sake."
[/div][/div][/div][div style="background-color:#8a0303;border-top:#8a0303 4px outset;border-left:#8a0303 4px inset;border-right:#8a0303 4px outset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#8a0303 4px inset;border-left:#8a0303 4px outset;border-right:#8a0303 4px inset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:black;color:#52595d;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]Something changed in his box. He should know. He had been here long enough.

The bay door did not open. There was no alarm, no announcement of an arrival. And never once did the oppressive magnetism waver. Black eyes opened slowly, halfway, and turned to where the visitor should be. An intern had once described the look as walking into a cage with a tiger that was trying to decide if it wanted to waste the energy to eat you. He had overheard it. He approved, as much as he approved of anything here. Fear was an appropriate response to a tiger. It was key to survival, when you could still die.

Upon his back upon his bed with his hands folded upon his chest he did not stir beyond that flutter of eyelids. His lips remained closed, his expression neutral. The thick black pants that covered his dignity was his only clothing. Shirtless and barefoot, although a pair of impressive boots and a folded cotton shirt were on the table in the corner. Unruly black hair cushioned the broad body, all corded muscle and patterned scar tissue. Perhaps an impressive specimen of humanity in action, but now entirely at rest.

He did not address the disturbance. He only watched it, in case it decided to be interesting. Perhaps she had finally decided to send something, in case this lethargy would drag on for eternity if not engaged - as she knew it well could. Or perhaps it came of its own free will, to investigate or destroy. Both had equal chances to disappoint, and if it bored him he would remain as he was and it would once more leave, and he would be once more alone.
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[div style="background-color:#626262;border-top:#626262 4px outset;border-left:#626262 4px inset;border-right:#626262 4px outset;border-bottom:#626262 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#626262 4px inset;border-left:#626262 4px outset;border-right:#626262 4px inset;border-bottom:#626262 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px][font color="#3b3b3b"]
The quality of the air had changed, whether that was more to do with Catian’s decision to investigate Pollux personally or the content of the Scapegoats’ silent communication he wasn’t sure. There was a decent chance that both were the case, but the tension in the air seemed to draw taught before Erika Angel replied to Catian’s inquiry. In spite of the tension he listened raptly, thoughtfully considering what Angel told him and its implications.

”That is certainly interesting, and sounds like something more apt to live in a world less delicate than yours. It is impressive the Foundation has been able to meet her needs, though with the mistreatment she has received in the past I can understand why she wouldn’t be so receptive to new people.” He spared a glance in the direction of Behemoth’s containment unit, but made no move to leave his seat again. Instead he filled his cup again, tossing the sugar in first and absently stirring it in.

”I can’t help but notice that something seems wrong,” Catian waved his spoon in the air generally. ”Do let me know if I cause you trouble. I am here to satisfy my own curiosity, it would be wrong of me to let something so personal become an issue for you or yours.” Catian looked up to the door had gone through and smiled. ”Of course you would have cameras in the room, care to see how things are going on the other side?” He waved the spoon again, this time at the door specifically, and a flicker of light spread across it, starting first as a spark, then a line, before widening to become something like a screen, perfectly displaying the interior of the containment unit. The image was a touch grainy at first, until its definition sharpened so that one could be forgiven for thinking the door had become a window.

Just beyond stood the other Traveler, eyes fixed upon the man who stared back at him from his bed.


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[div style="background-color:#626262;border-top:#626262 4px outset;border-left:#626262 4px inset;border-right:#626262 4px outset;border-bottom:#626262 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#626262 4px inset;border-left:#626262 4px outset;border-right:#626262 4px inset;border-bottom:#626262 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:black;color:white;padding:15px][font color="#fffff0"]
As Catian entered the containment unit his clothing shifted, long hooded coat billowing behind him as the armor at his shoulders and knees clinked and settled into place. Though his garb was dated in this reality, he wore what could have been viewed as his signature outfit, a white tunic with wooden toggles to the middle of his chest over black breeches plated with a metal that shimmered with prismatic colors over its grey steel. His coat seemed to move of its own will, billowing without wind or sound as if its existent were somewhere between being and not.

He first looked around the stark white room, taking note of the cameras that were positioned so that no blind spots were permitted. He considered disabling them briefly, but allowed them their duty as the other Catian found use for them. He let his kaleidoscopic eyes settle on the well muscled man lying in the bed, meeting his black gaze unflinchingly in a long pause that ended with a flick of his wrist. The magnetism permeating the room shifted, manipulated by his will to the edges of the room and lifting its weight from Pollux’s form while concentrating it with savage intensity upon the walls and the door, enough so that the entire room seemed to groan under the change in invisible pressure.

”I am to understand that you are something of a combat enthusiast, Mr. Pollux.” As he spoke Catian’s hand slipped to his side, and from the empty space there he began to pull a simple wooden stick, the length of it materializing from the space his hand began its motion until he held a short staff in front of him with the ends capped in swirling, decorative patterns of an unidentifiable metal. ”I have lifted the restrictions placed on you for the time being, so that you may use whatever abilities you possess against me. Best me and I will see to it that you’re given more opportunities to stretch your legs. Fall to me and I would but ask you some questions.” Catain set the butt of the staff down in front of him and smiled at the anomaly before a cloth mask materialized to cover the lower half of his face. ”Do these terms sound acceptable to you?”
[div]
 
[div style="background-color:#52595d;border-top:#52595d 4px outset;border-left:#52595d 4px inset;border-right:#52595d 4px outset;border-bottom:#52595d 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#52595d 4px inset;border-left:#52595d 4px outset;border-right:#52595d 4px inset;border-bottom:#52595d 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]They’d been… a little more obvious than Dagon would normally approve of, but it was short notice and a matter of high security. It was almost funny, Catian Valor mentioning trouble – if Tomek had just said “Excuse me, you need to go now,” would the entity investigate further, or would it actually listen? That was almost a research question, but much more importantly it would’ve helped him gauge the entity seated beside him, drinking tea.

Judgment had taken his teacup back up as well, but his eyes remained on Dagon until his team lead caught the gaze. He made a signal that was, plausibly, for the Class-E: Does he understand this?

Dagon did not respond. This was more because he knew he’d get an answer from the anomaly itself if he did understand. It was rude to talk about someone when they plausibly couldn’t understand you. Something about the laws of hospitality, which were usually necessary to convince something like Valor to stay. However, this was the Foundation, and he wasn’t technically an invited guest, so he could expect a little indirect study. Most things frankly objected to such. Besides, if they were on their way, of course it was important to let attention be drawn away from it.

The team looked to Dagon. And Dagon shook his head a little.

"No more trouble than I sense you’d be otherwise, Mr. Valor." Dagon did not smile, but he did not frown, either. Whether he approved or disapproved was irrelevant. "It’s likely to resolve itself before it can become a problem."

Knowing this particular researcher, if they wanted to meet him, they would take the opportunity no matter what Dagon said to either them or the Traveler, and the same the other way around if the Traveler took a sudden interest in meeting them. Likely just here to observe, and step in if this turned into a near-termination.

The words seemed to soothe the team, who went about business as normal. People turned in their seats to see, almost all of them still eating. Judgment now held a teacup. New Amsterdam continued with the pizzas in miniature. This time the bets about that weren’t whispered, they were signaled, and the table fell into patient silence to wait for something important to happen beyond the bay doors.
[/div][/div][/div][div style="background-color:#8a0303;border-top:#8a0303 4px outset;border-left:#8a0303 4px inset;border-right:#8a0303 4px outset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#8a0303 4px inset;border-left:#8a0303 4px outset;border-right:#8a0303 4px inset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:black;color:#52595d;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]The half lidded eye flickered across the disturbance’s body. The gleaming colors of the eyes that looked back were a stark contrast. He remained unbothered, despite noting the armor and examining the weapon. The only change of body for the moment was a deep breath drawn as the pressure of the magnet was moved to the edge of the room, and he knew down to the bones that this was a poor freedom. There was no chance of escape through the field. The promised combat would be bound by the walls of his box.

He sat up, slowly. Joints cracked from disuse; how long he’d been laying there, only she would know, and her observers. A hand ran through the front of his hair to keep it from obscuring his vision. His head tilted like he heard something distant, but his eyes never left the stranger that had issued a challenge that would have been bolder from something that could die. The edges of his voice were soft, from disuse, but the voice itself rumbled from a place deep within the chest.

[font color="#8a0303"]“She did not send you.”[/font] The eyes flickered to the door. [font color="#8a0303"]“Yet they gave you passage.”[/font]

The man known now by a number, or as Pollux, was not a fool. He could be rash, and he was “something of a combat enthusiast,” yes. But the flicker of power that came from the thing that had crossed his threshold was enough to see that the fight would hardly be fair. Some would dare say the unnamed stranger had the power to let it end however he desired. They had not seen Pollux fell things that claimed godhood before. He was not certain he wanted to make a demonstration now.

A man of infinite patience, he only stared at the armored intruder, and let his mind grind through the possibilities. If left to the silence, he would choose to speak again, but only after what to a viewer more acutely aware of the passage of time would recognize as several minutes.

[font color="#8a0303"]“Should I fall to you, it would be some time before your answers came. And to best you would be the expectation of an ambitious warrior, or one dependent on your sense of honor.”[/font]

They were observations. Not questions, not objections, but also not agreement. He waited for a response, however. He had time to do so, and to consider whether she would watch, to see if he would give in to the itch that began to burn in his blood with the new freedom. Or, more accurately, to see how long it took before the urge became unbearable.
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[div style="background-color:#626262;border-top:#626262 4px outset;border-left:#626262 4px inset;border-right:#626262 4px outset;border-bottom:#626262 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#626262 4px inset;border-left:#626262 4px outset;border-right:#626262 4px inset;border-bottom:#626262 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px][font color="#3b3b3b"]

A small smile was the only response Catian deigned to give Dagon for the moment, whether in response to assurances or to the unspoken communication between the Scapegoats arranged around his table he left to interpretation. The hand signals were subtle, well practiced by the hands that used them and obviously intended as a form of communication unique to the group. Though the signals were different from similar communication methods that Catian had seen in his past their intention was the same as spoken word, and in a reality such as this one the words and gestures used to transmit ideas and thoughts were secondary to the ideas themselves. He couldn’t read the signals, exactly, but he did understand the communication that connected those who were communicating.

Bets were being placed a touch more subtly, and Catian sipped at his tea with that same smile. Dagon still chose not to partake of the food or drink, a fact which would have been considered rude in polite society but Catian found refreshing in its honesty. It was often that way with soldiers and warriors; despite the years in courts and noble houses, government peace talks and war councils, Catian always had preferred talking with people who held themselves the same regardless of circumstance or company. Given Catian’s status in this realm it was even more of a credit to the man’s integrity that he acted the same at this table as he likely would have at any other.

”I see,” Catian said in response to his words, glancing around the hall for a moment. ”For the sake of the peace perhaps you should tell me what problem could arise if it doesn’t resolve itself? If the worst were to happen it would be far easier for me to nullify that risk if I am better informed.” He let his eyes settle back to the projected images on the door, feigning a disinterest that wasn’t quite accurate. He had claimed them unflappable, and so the subtle worry that seeped from Dagon’s demeanor might as well have been alarms blaring around them. Even if his team didn’t seem to share his worry, Catian could feel it from him like a softly cresting wave. [/div]
 
[div style="background-color:#626262;border-top:#626262 4px outset;border-left:#626262 4px inset;border-right:#626262 4px outset;border-bottom:#626262 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#626262 4px inset;border-left:#626262 4px outset;border-right:#626262 4px inset;border-bottom:#626262 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:black;color:white;padding:15px][font color="#fffff0"]

It seemed, at least to Catian, that the Anomaly was little impressed by his appearance or his offer, taking his time to sit with a slight creaking of bone and a swipe at his hair. Though Pollux spoke of Catian’s entry being allowed the traveler took a moment to consider the possibility. Was someone watching, willing this encounter to happen and allowing Catian’s obfuscation of the rules of reality to some hidden end? He couldn’t dismiss the idea, or the long list of suspects who might be capable. The Foundation had many tools at their disposal, and in this world he was classified as an entity best observed and controlled, regardless of whether he wished it or not.

Of course, if someone were controlling him they would have had a much easier time using the stone than setting up a seemingly unrelated lecture in an unrelated location to lure him there. It was far more likely that Pollux overestimated his captors’ abilities after so long under their thumb. Catian felt a sort of sympathy to the Anomaly in that regard; captivity was the longest form of torture in any world. It rotted the mind with all sorts of negative feelings and thoughts until all that was left was a knot of suspicion and superstitious fear wrapped around the buried nugget of hope for escape. For immortals like 404 and himself that process could take many lifetimes, but no one was immune to that kind of hell.

When Pollux spoke again Catian was slightly taken aback, both by the words and the fact that they were spoken. There was an electricity in the air that had nothing to do with the magnetic fields and tiny cameras, a tension in the silence that followed as Catian considered the prisoner with an ever-shifting stare. After several more minutes had passed the traveler shrugged, in the same motion dropping the weapon he had conjured to the floor below. As the staff hit the floor it shattered with a sound like a broken window, shards of wood and steel fading away as they splintered. The armor faded to grey mist, the clothing shifting and tightening to more modern standards; dress slacks over black boots, a white dress shirt unbuttoned over a form fitting black top that extended to the mask that covered his face.

”No, I suppose you have point there, Catian shrugged again as he spoke, the mask muffling his voice only slightly. ”An astute one I honestly did not expect. It was my understanding that entering this unit would be tantamount to war, and I prepared that offer for a battle hungry animal with a human form. You seem to be… more than that.” Catian took a step forward, hand outstretched amiably. ”If you would prefer we talk I am more than happy to oblige, though I can’t say I wasn’t looking forward to an old-fashion brawl. My name is Catian Valor, and its been some time since someone overlooked my godhood and saw fit to challenge me.” He took a moment, a tilt to his head as he considered Pollux. ”Although I get the sense it isn’t from fear of my power that you chose to speak rather than assault.” [/div]
 
[div style="background-color:#52595d;border-top:#52595d 4px outset;border-left:#52595d 4px inset;border-right:#52595d 4px outset;border-bottom:#52595d 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#52595d 4px inset;border-left:#52595d 4px outset;border-right:#52595d 4px inset;border-bottom:#52595d 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]Dagon was not watching the display – or lack thereof – for the inside the containment unit. 404 was acting within anticipated parameters, if a little more actively. There was a subtle shift in his face, or maybe it had been there for a few moments and just fully solidified when the Traveler spoke. He was weighing his words carefully, sifting through and picking out the right one. Words were vitally important to security when it came to entities like this. You didn’t need to be an L-9er to know that.

The word he spoke was singular, slow, and deliberate: “Classified.”

Whether Catian caught all the subtleties behind that was up for debate. It wasn’t Dagon’s department to be able to tell what the outside entity could tell from the simplest phrases, it was just minimizing the damages of that possibility. It contained everything that needed to be said, and was stated with absolute certainty and strictest definition. A word ordered toward itself, but clear enough that Judgment did not share the next information he received from the observation center.
[/div][/div][/div][div style="background-color:#1E9391;border-top:#1E9391 4px outset;border-left:#1E9391 4px inset;border-right:#1E9391 4px outset;border-bottom:#1E9391 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#1E9391 4px inset;border-left:#1E9391 4px outset;border-right:#1E9391 4px inset;border-bottom:#1E9391 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;padding:15px;color:dimgray;font-family:courier new;"][font color="#1E9391"]“What’s the situation?”[/font]

The figures had quite possibly always been at the center of the observation control center. They hadn’t, because there would have been much more of a fuss much sooner if they had, but nobody jumped at the sound of the voice. They’d been en route, after all. The woman at the primary monitor sighed, swiveling her chair to face them. “Sir, you really shouldn’t–”

[font color="#1E9391"]“Don’t ‘sir’ me. What’s the situation?”[/font]

[font color="#696969"]The woman sighed again. She’d been hoping this wouldn’t turn into a report for SV-4, but it seemed a breach in security protocol was in order. A quick glance at the ID badge the researcher had elected to wear confirmed that this wasn’t an official visit, but that didn’t change that her partner was banned following his last appearance. [/font]

[font color="#000000"]“No engagement yet.”[/font]

The small woman turned to the man at her side with a slightly amused smile. [font color="#1E9391"]“You owe me money.”[/font]

The man, who wasn’t even supposed to be here, muttered something softly in Russian. The secondary observer hadn’t ever spoken Russian, but she got the gist well enough. The much smaller woman appeared at her side, and leaned in toward the screen, blue eyes squinting into the light as it reflected off the lenses of her glasses and shone through the orange wings of the butterfly on the rim. The secondary observer shifted uncomfortably in the swivel chair.

[font color="#000000"]“With all– due respect, s- Doctor, you could be observing this from a safe distance.”[/font] The doctor made a noncommittal sound, too busy picking apart every pixel of the interaction with her mind. [font color="#000000"]“And he shouldn’t be within a hundred miles of this location.”[/font]

The dark man smiled, a little sadly, without moving from the center of the room. The woman ignored both him and the gross breach of protocol she'd displayed by choosing to bring him. Instead, she focused with a researcher's precision on what she saw. Not on the visitor, who was a known uncontrollable entity but on the prisoner who was free to make his decision here. When she spoke it was with sharp clearness, and absolute authority.

[font color="#1E9391"]“I want a full on the situation. Now.”[/font]
[/div][/div][/div][div style="background-color:#8a0303;border-top:#8a0303 4px outset;border-left:#8a0303 4px inset;border-right:#8a0303 4px outset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#8a0303 4px inset;border-left:#8a0303 4px outset;border-right:#8a0303 4px inset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:black;color:#52595d;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]The stranger was taken by surprise. Good. That meant he had a degree of control over his own situation. Not the type or degree that he would have liked, if he had created the circumstances. But he learned that this could be surprised. He had no clue how much his odd guest had overthought his words, simple as they were. They would not have sent something to challenge him, or at least she wouldn’t. And he had heard no conflict through the door, only the muffled voices. He had come to his own conclusions, but his face and body may as well have been wrought iron for all communication offered on the subject.

The weapon shattered, and the only response was a shift of attention, dark eyes breaking from the multicolored ones long enough to watch it disappear. It was a disappointment. Not one that showed on his face, however. He watched the armor change to more casual costume. The formality did not impress the anomaly, either.

The stranger gave his name, and the prisoner wondered if it had always been his name, or merely the one he preferred. He had already decided Catian Valor talked far too much. Catian Valor also did not have much patience for stillness. They had eternity, unless one of them acted preemptively on the vague itch for bloodshed. Animal, Valor had called it. The Blood-Iron Man looked upon the outstretched hand, not with distaste, but the same disinterest he'd ad for the words spoken. The fingers of his left hand shifted, but he did not reach out to meet the gesture of peace.

[font color="#8a0303"]“Animals fight by necessity.”[/font] The unused voice grew somewhat more solid, although remained slow and unemotive. [font color="#8a0303"]“We are not animals. We are warriors. Sometimes with laws. I have fought enough to understand those rules. And I will not fight here.”[/font]

Another ultimatum, another fact. It was not a plea or trick for release. He never assumed he could toy with the whims of a god, and even less expected mercy or freedom from such. Even so... he didn’t have to trust the whim of a god to test its power, and he felt the slow spread of warm, unformed iron from the palm of his left hand, waiting to be shaped. Five years was not a very long time to be out of practice, but it was enough that if this did devolve, he wished for enough time to be prepared.
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Classified.

The word told Catian enough, though he was growing a bit tired of its utterance and print so common on the Foundation’s records and tongues. Secrets of men, whispers of dangerous knowledge, all tantamount to fear that Catian had rid himself of in the face of adversity. He held his own secrets, of course, but those were held only because the information was irrelevant, not to satisfy some need to hoard knowledge as if it were a treasure for some to draconic figure to rest upon. Though it was clear Dagon had used the word as more than it was intended, it still drove Catian’s easy smile downward a touch to think that the Scapegoats’ superiors would tie the hands of their agents so tightly. Were Catian of a different ilk he might have responded violently, and the threat of that eventually happening meant that the team was already consigned to little more than cannon fodder. Once a leader of men Catian found that to be the most distasteful of tactics, and a waste of good potential.

”Understood,” he responded as he struggled to keep his judgement on a leash. The Scapegoats had likely volunteered for the expendable position they held, and likely wouldn’t take kindly to his distaste at the practice. Warriors held honor, even in their deaths, in high regard, and the Scapegoats were certainly warriors of this world. Catian turned his attention back to the leader fully, even turning his body in his seat to face him as the interaction on the other side of the door moved forward at a snail’s pace. Such was always the challenge when immortals met, and he hoped that the mortal eyes that observed them held enough patience to see them through to the eventual climax.

Suddenly Catian’s hand slammed onto the table in front of Dagon, the soft chink of metal accompanying the drum-like slap. When he pulled his hand back ten silver coins with the embossed image of a dragon’s head were revealed beneath. ”Take these, and keep them on you at all times. If you ever find yourself in need of help, or perhaps a change in careers, simply call my name while holding a coin near your heart. I could use warriors like you in the future.” Catian stood, the scraping of his chair unnecessarily loud in the silence of signaled bets and an uneventful display from the room beyond the door.

”I have enjoyed your company immensely, Scapegoats, and look forward to the next time we meet. Unfortunately my purpose here was to meet both Pollux and Behemoth, and I have only succeeded in half of that so far. Please enjoy the refreshments and entertainment. I will patch you into Bessie’s room as soon as I enter, just in case Pollux fails to provide a satisfactory performance. Catian turned briefly back to Dagon, ”Make sure each member of your team has one of those coins at all times. The Foundation may be willing to sacrifice you to a single entity, but I have reason to believe you’re all far more useful than even your benefactors might think.”

It sounded an end to their discussion, and seemed more so as Catian turned away and headed toward the opposite end of the hall where Behemoth’s CU was waiting. Without looking back he stepped to the door, so similar to the one that held Pollux, and vanished with a touch.
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Could he have duplicated himself again and continued to enjoy the peace of drinking tea with the Scapegoats? Sure, it would have been ridiculously simple. Catian was pragmatic, however, and had already displayed a much larger portion of his ability than he was comfortable with. Were Harold Stines a less convincing disguise it might have been noted that Catian’s bilocation could be extended farther, but if that knowledge was gained it hadn’t been acted upon, and Catian had no intention of giving the Foundation a reason to act. Two Catians was plenty for them to worry with, after all.

With the tea and cakes and pleasant company of warriors cut from the same cloth he might have been left behind him, Catian found his patience a touch thinner than it might have been otherwise. New observers were falling in, their eyes adding to the order of the world around him, an uncomfortable sensation that even normal people were capable of sensing. Someone watching, unseen but felt through the power of a perceptive reality. The other side of the door was dark, perhaps to better keep the towering shadow in a more complacent state or slumber, or perhaps a choice made by the handlers in charge of her to quash their fear at her image. Catian could only guess at the reasons for many of the things the Foundation did, anomalous in itself for its often wildly differing opinions and policies even from laboratory to laboratory, not to mention location to location.

Already feeling the press for time, an urge of cautious haste that seemed to come from somewhere else, Catian snapped his fingers, speaking as the lights came on at the sound and craning his neck upward, and upward and even upward still to take in the creature he had come to see. Its breath was contained hurricane, its body a mountain of flesh. Even as he was Catian shuddered to think of what Bessie could do to humanity if left unchecked, but it wasn’t her size or composition that led him here, instead it was the simple question he had asked when the lights came on.

”Wanna go for a walk?”
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[div style="background-color:#8a0303;border-top:#8a0303 4px outset;border-left:#8a0303 4px inset;border-right:#8a0303 4px outset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#8a0303 4px inset;border-left:#8a0303 4px outset;border-right:#8a0303 4px inset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:black;color:#fffff0;padding:15px]

Met with another length of silence, Catian retracted his hand even before the dark haired man’s fingers had twitched. Eternity weighed heavily upon some minds, took away their drive toward their goals and contented them to whatever they faced until inevitable change brought them to a new situation. The old gods of his world were much the same, disillusioned of the concept of time and having little stock in it as their own creation, preferring instead to watch, and wait while their world changed in such minute degrees that they had not seen their own end coming until it was too late. It had been a hard lesson won at the expense of his predecessors, and a mistake he had little intention of making. His purpose here was not one of an immortal that would be as satisfied with the ending of things as they were by their beginnings. While he might have an eternity, the reality he was in wasn’t likely to have the entirety of that length.

That wasn’t to say that 404 wouldn’t have the same eternity that Catian had, though somehow Catian doubted eternity would be quite as long as the anomaly might have considered it to be, judging from his demeanor. It wasn’t his own time that Catian worked against, however, and though he was prepared to spend a great deal of what time there was on Pollux and the questions he had for him, there was a limit that drew ever closer as more mortal eyes tuned in on the happenings in the containment cell. With that subtle shift in pressure Catian raised his hand again, this time with the palm forward; a much less benign gesture that caused the bed beneath Pollux to disappear as if it had never been. Out of consideration the man’s previously settled body was placed standing with his back against the wall, though Catian couldn’t discount the possibility that Pollux might see this relocation as an attack.

”The necessity of our fight is contingent upon your decision, Pollux. Either way I will have my answers from you, even if I must rip them from your mind. I would prefer not to resort to drastic measures, so I will ask again: Do you wish to fight and then answer my questions, or would you rather give me those answers without the preamble?” Catian closed his raised hand into a loose fist, and the dimensions of the containment unit seemed to expand, stretching outward though the feed from the cameras would show no change. His fist lowered only after the room had nearly decupled in size. ”You and I may have eternity, but my purpose does not. Try to remember the pacing of the mortal world you’ve been so long away from, and temper yourself to that beat. You might think that you’re removed enough that it would not affect you, but even gods are defined by their realities. If this universe were to crumble you would fare little better than the animals rooting in the mud.”
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[div][attr="style","position:absolute;"]
[div][attr="style","position:relative;left:-181px;top:11px;width:150px;text-align:center;background-color:black;border:3px #F9F6EE inset;padding:5px;font-family:courier new;color:#F9F6EE;"]ACF-666
[img src="[URL]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/426247770299432962/1129166684591243285/scp_3007_by_sunnyclockwork_db8mral-414w-2x.jpg[/URL]" style="width:150px;"]
BEHEMOTH[/div][/div][div style="background-color:#F9F6EE;border-top:#F9F6EE 4px outset;border-left:#F9F6EE 4px inset;border-right:#F9F6EE 4px outset;border-bottom:#F9F6EE 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#F9F6EE 4px inset;border-left:#F9F6EE 4px outset;border-right:#F9F6EE 4px inset;border-bottom:#F9F6EE 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:black;color:#F9F6EE;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]Four eyes turned toward the new creature.

Its main body was a sight to behold, and drew the eye naturally. A thick fringe of black hair fell from its spine, over skin that was thickly furred in some places and heavily scaled in others – superficially, without rhyme or reason. There was patterning along where ribs that could be used a skyscraper beams bent below the surface, white outside to reflect the white inside in lung undercurved stripes, but those were the only color along the torso of the beast. That chest heaved and blew with winds that could well throw a man back if he was caught directly in the blast of the breath, the air curling up a somewhat long, almost mammalian neck to the place where it connected to the skull, where the fringe thickened to mane that fell across its face, far too long and thick to be properly tended aside from its own grooming care. Its massive head rested between lizardlike feet, claws alone taller than a grown human. It did possess an inner skull, but it was easy to assume it did not for the thickness and bonelike appearance of the carapace that covered its face like a helm carved from the head of a defeated enemy. Its jaw, slightly ajar to better breathe, had a single row of teeth – round, mammalian, and carnivorous in the front, with flatter teeth of an herbivore in the back.

And from under the facial carapace, blinking in the sudden light, were four eyes – two massive, and easily identifiable; two others beneath, almost spiderlike, but blinking in tandem with the main pair. The iris was a blooded red, and the pupils contracted so fast into slits that the animal had to blink several times to rid itself of the spots to properly see the thing that had come in and interrupted its sleep – eyes that rendered themselves most useful in the dark. Its very size and existence created a dull sound that could unsteady the nerves of any animal smaller than an elephant, and an active sound joined it, a dull groan that could cause the head to throb and the bones to rattle in any researcher that entered here. Except it didn’t seem to threaten, and it knew that this was not its researchers, because its researchers announced themselves with a low ring as the door opened. And it wasn’t the other creature that it did not consider the same as the researchers, because the researchers had never harmed it with their hands or hit it with vanishing claws that cut through even its thickest places. It took a sucking breath in that would take nearly all the air from the room had it not been for specialized ducts, slow and steady and absorbing all information it could about the strange new thing, and then exhaled and began to push itself to stand.

The tail was one of the most dangerous aspects of Behemoth. While it was long enough that it should be obvious, the rest of the body often served to distract from its end, also hardened bone and small relative to the rest of it. It was also the part that Behemoth itself was the least conscious of, when the small things came in. Between equal distraction it had accidentally knocked over more than one researcher – and over the years and decades, “accidentally knocked over” had come to be synonymous with “accidentally shattered the bones of”. It was better about the end of its tail now, pulling it around the back side, closer to the wall it had chosen to lay against. The rumble never ceased as it carefully maneuvered its body to the small thing that spoke to it. It had never learned languages – the enormous brain served other purposes, despite the size relative even to its own body.

It tilted its head at him, almost like a comically large dog trying to catch the meaning behind his strange words, and not entirely succeeding. The eyes blinked again, this time in question, as if it thought he’d understand.
[/div][/div][/div][div][attr="style","position:absolute;"]
[div][attr="style","position:relative;left:-181px;top:11px;width:150px;text-align:center;background-color:#FFFAFA;border:3px #1E9391 inset;padding:5px;font-family:courier new;color:#1E9391;"]DR. LEVI HOBBES
[img style="width:150px;" src="[URL]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/426247770299432962/1127009739637801091/shattered___dr__rights_by_sunnyclockwork_d8lijtd-pre.jpg[/URL]"]
[font color="#1E9391"]R-CLASS-E[/font][/div][/div][div style="background-color:#1E9391;border-top:#1E9391 4px outset;border-left:#1E9391 4px inset;border-right:#1E9391 4px outset;border-bottom:#1E9391 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#1E9391 4px inset;border-left:#1E9391 4px outset;border-right:#1E9391 4px inset;border-bottom:#1E9391 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:#FFFAFA;color:dimgray;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]
[font color="black"]“Sir?”[/font] Monitor Four hadn’t seemed to have heard the earlier admonition, or if he had, he didn’t seem to remember.[font color="black"]“We’ve lost visual on Valor.”[/font]

The doctor frowned at the screen she was observing, reluctant to take her eyes away from ACF-404’s encounter with the Traveler. [font color="#1E9391"]“What do you mean? Which one?”[/font]

[font color="black"]“Hall Valor. The one who was having a tea party with the Scapegoats. Permission to tell them to get back to duty?”[/font]

[font color="#1E9391"]“Denied.”[/font]

She sighed as she pulled her attention away. She had so many eyes, and only one brain to process all the information with. It was almost a shame. But if she’d had the mental capacity, she would have been an anomaly herself, and that would’ve complicated so much for her Foundation. It was best that she do this the normal way, even with the butterfly perched on her glasses as if waiting for a command she would never give it.

She turned away from the first observation station and walked over toward monitor four, which seemed to be maintaining contact with the Scapegoats. Most Foundation personnel considered them a special brand of crazy. Maybe they were, but so was everyone who stuck around for the full career. And they were the best she could get that belonged to that special brand of crazy. Even as they passed out an unknown item that would almost definitely appear in their reports, she knew they’d more than earned this.

[font color="#1E9391"]“They need the break. Let them rest. They’ll basically have the rest of the day off unless Pollux surprises us.”[/font]

Which she hoped he did, but she didn’t have time to voice that when someone else said, [font color="black"]“Unknown activity in CU-7-666.”[/font]

She had a feeling everyone had the same suspicion, but she changed her path anyway and stood at monitor eight, looking over the shoulder of the observer. They’d had to be strategic about where they placed the cameras in her unit. Behemoth’s body could obscure all visual if positioned correctly. Now, however, there was a figure that could be seen as the lights were turned on, as her body shifted to its feet, almost unmistakable. The audio of the recording was faint, but it was enough to concern anyone whose first priority was security, and that was everyone in the Foundation.

Where are you going to take her…

She didn’t have time to consider, or ask, that question, because the secondary observer called out again in her direction.

[font color="black"]“Dr. Hobbes, we have activity in 404.”[/font]
[/div][/div][/div][div][attr="style","position:absolute;"]
[div][attr="style","position:relative;left:-181px;top:11px;width:150px;text-align:center;background-color:white;border:3px #8a0303 inset;padding:5px;font-family:courier new;color:black;"]ACF-404
[img src="[URL]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/717410440300462090/1124551077610672218/POLLUX.jpg[/URL]" style="width:150px;"]
POLLUX[/div][/div][div style="background-color:#8a0303;border-top:#8a0303 4px outset;border-left:#8a0303 4px inset;border-right:#8a0303 4px outset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#8a0303 4px inset;border-left:#8a0303 4px outset;border-right:#8a0303 4px inset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:black;color:#52595d;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]Because he had not taken the energy to move, he was moved. And Catian Valor issued his first threat.

Perhaps he thought that it would be pride that rankled against the threat to simply tear the information free. As things had been, such would have no effect; while he did not speak, he had no love for this Foundation or their boxes or their observers. There would have been little trouble, if that had been Valor’s first course of action.

The movement only took a fraction of a moment to reorient to. He had not always been standing, back against the wall, nor was there or had there ever been doubt in his mind on the subject. The iron he’d had prepared in his hand flecked away as his palm pressed now to the edge where the field remained to hold him locked. A small waste, but a waste all the same.

The waste was not what changed him, however. To be acted upon was not something that – no, it was not his pride that would not allow it. It was deeper than that, more innate, perhaps written into himself the same as those scars that bled black.

Anger came in a cold sting of heat.

That anger was the first stirring of life. It almost always was. Well did he know the process by which the itch erupted into a burn, and that burn became energy, a sudden disruption to the lethargy that had a moment ago held him as Catian Valor had held him, as her Foundation had held him. And now life flared into the eyes that remained cold embers against the scarred face.

A fight was a choice. A gamble, to be sure. But he had gambled against the likes of this before.

The words rolled away. Words were empty, a waste of time. They did have time, despite the god’s urgency to fulfill some purpose. It was always some higher purpose, with the gods. His own purpose was by comparison far simpler, and it was neither to give answers nor to waste time or breath with words.

One step, followed another step, followed the first one. They still were not far. The room was not as large as he would have liked, but he had taken it in. He knew where what was supposed to be there, was. And against the palm of his hand the flat of a dagger that was held and released with the flick of his wrist –

To strike the lens of one of the cameras. He had impeccable aim, even a little out of practice. If someone hadn’t been watching before, damage to her precious equipment would certainly bring her attention here. After all, if they were going to watch, it was best she see now and not after. She would have fewer questions that way.

The movement flowed in tandem with the rest. At a glance they were as expected, the quick blend of action and follow-through as more black bled into his hands in a pair of blades. Still more hardened across his forearms to form crude armor. Eyes focused ahead, bare feet within tandem with the arms but neither quite superhuman in speed and skill. He needed time to warm up, a moment to test what the god was willing to do to evade or absorb his blows. Hardly a man of words, Pollux answered in action alone, even if even he understood the battle might be already lost. The anger faded into something else entirely as he began to sense the rhythm – not of time, but within himself, deeper even than a drumbeat.

It didn’t actually matter, if he won this. In that moment, his sole purpose was to see Catian Valor bleed.
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[div style="background-color:#1E9391;border-top:#1E9391 4px outset;border-left:#1E9391 4px inset;border-right:#1E9391 4px outset;border-bottom:#1E9391 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#1E9391 4px inset;border-left:#1E9391 4px outset;border-right:#1E9391 4px inset;border-bottom:#1E9391 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:black;padding:15px;color:white]

As the camera was struck by 404’s blade the projected image on the outside of the door flickered like an old television set, the image fading and collapsing into lines that concentrated upon a single point from where a small, impossibly blue spark popped audibly. A barely heard buzz came from the spark as it fell to the floor, neither fading or flashing, and though it did arc to the position the movement was slower than a natural electric current might be. Once it had reached the floor it darted over it in zigs and zags with cracks and claps as it arced purposefully toward the nearest security camera. With a snap it flew into the device, the buzz that accompanied it fading as it did.

The image from the undamaged camera widened to cover the door and its missing perspective, while in the Monitor Room the same image overtook the damaged feed with a crackle of impossibly blue static. For the Scapegoats, however, a shimmering line formed and the image from Pollux’s unit shrank down to its original size, the other half of the display now filled with the perspective of a camera from CU-7-666.
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[div style="background-color:#F9F6EE;border-top:#F9F6EE 4px outset;border-left:#F9F6EE 4px inset;border-right:#F9F6EE 4px outset;border-bottom:#F9F6EE 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#F9F6EE 4px inset;border-left:#F9F6EE 4px outset;border-right:#F9F6EE 4px inset;border-bottom:#F9F6EE 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:#34282C;padding:15px;"]


The anomaly moved carefully, intentionally as it woke with slow movements. Catian’s eyes surveyed the walls, though, as he casually ducked under the tail and walked toward Bessie slowly. His gaze turned to her as he neared, and with it an impression was pushed into her mind, softly; a gentle memory that wasn’t hers of running at her full speed through tall grass that whipped at her body after the scent of something small and delicious. It was similar to how he would communicate with 707, though the sensations were more vivid, more pointed, and with them his words echoed gently. Go for a walk.

He stopped, still a good distance away from Behemoth. He turned to the camera he had chosen, the one that could see him next to Bessie and a the most of her that was possible as well. Though he was some distance from it he smiled and waved with one hand while the other was held toward the Anomaly with his palm up. ”Hi, I know you’re watching.” his voice would carry through, but might also sound as if it came from inside of the Monitor Room its self. ”Here for a show? I have a few tricks you might enjoy.” He let his hand fall way from Behemoth and walked toward the camera.

Or, so it seemed on the monitor. Despite the height, despite the angle, as he walked toward it he grew, as if his tinniness had been the product of distance. To the Behemoth it might have looked as if he were walking in place, but somehow growing with each step. As he stooped to fill the camera with his face he wrapped his hand around it and ripped it free with a clatter and a flash of sparks. Somehow the feed continued as he lifted the camera slightly above himself, revealing that the space of the unit had changed, seemed much larger as Behemoth curled near his waist. As the camera panned out he was revealed to be his normal size, though the Anomaly was now closer to her original stature when the foundation had recovered her. From somewhere he had procured a thick piece of dried meat that was now being held to the creature casually, as one might feed a pet.

”I know, I know. You’ve seen that one before.” Catian addressed the camera with a smile and set the camera down… somewhere. ”But have you seen any other habitable worlds in your reality?” A flick of his wrist, almost theatric as a rushing whoosh filled the air for an instant, a swirling of particles that were unidentifiable forming a circle along the far wall of the containment unit. On the other side, in clear view of the camera, a tangerine sky fell over tall green grass that swayed lazily in the breeze. Something like the sound of birdsong wafted from the portal. At the base of the camera, out of view from the monitor room, an impossibly blue spark arced between the frayed and exposed wires.
[/div][/div][/div]
[div style="background-color:#8a0303;border-top:#8a0303 4px outset;border-left:#8a0303 4px inset;border-right:#8a0303 4px outset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#8a0303 4px inset;border-left:#8a0303 4px outset;border-right:#8a0303 4px inset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:black;color:#fffff0;padding:15px;font color= #fffff0]

Despite the question of its worth Pollux attacked, eliciting a smile from under Catian’s mask as he readied himself. The larger man closed the distance, taking the time between his movement and his goal to strike one of the observing cameras and destroy it in a shower of sparks. The blades came, one in each hand as fluid strikes aimed for Catian’s vitals expertly, if judged by human standards. Catian knew better, and sighed audibly as he took the smallest of backward steps to evade the first knife. The second slashed through the air by his throat as he twisted, stepping again to the side and turning at just the right moment. The following blows were evaded in much the same manner, each tiny step inching closer to the destroyed surveillance.

A mote of blue light, fallen to the floor in the device’s destruction and almost imperceptible, suddenly flared as Catian drew near it, an arc of electricity that scattered over the floor like an animal to his heel, just as Pollux leveled a sweeping slash to Catian’s throat. Instead the blade was caught, between finger and thumb with a sound like a bell. Catian’s eyes were locked onto his, as they had been the entire time he attacked. The strength of the hand that swung the blade was matched, but the blade began to bend slightly. ”Warming up is one thing, but this is insulting.”

A high pitched whine filled the air, the blade between Catian’s fingers vibrating slightly as if in response. The charge he sent through the iron was enough to kill a mortal man, enough to knock out an elephant. The force of it was like thunder, the crackle of the burst of electrons as they traveled into Pollux’s chest shy of the destruction of natural lightning, but powerful enough that the concussion of air from its passing shoved even Catian a few inches back. A blue streak shot from the hem of his coat to his shoulder with crackling laughter like a series of static shocks. ”You’re going to have to actually put some effort into this, immortal.” Catian made sure he said the words loudly, in case the thunder had ruptured the man’s hearing and it had not yet healed.
[/div][/div][/div]
 
[div][attr="style","position:absolute;"]
[div][attr="style","position:relative;left:-181px;top:11px;width:150px;text-align:center;background-color:white;border:3px #8a0303 inset;padding:5px;font-family:courier new;color:black;"]ACF-404
[img style="width:150px;" src="[URL]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/717410440300462090/1124551077610672218/POLLUX.jpg[/URL]"]
POLLUX[/div][/div][div style="background-color:#8a0303;border-top:#8a0303 4px outset;border-left:#8a0303 4px inset;border-right:#8a0303 4px outset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#8a0303 4px inset;border-left:#8a0303 4px outset;border-right:#8a0303 4px inset;border-bottom:#8a0303 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:black;color:#52595d;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]The god took his attack in stride, always a moment ahead. Such was the way of things. He could have moved sooner; Pollux could tell from long experience in the way the movement occurred. He caught the last blow between two fingers, and spoke again just as Pollux considered dissipating the weapon in question.

Insulting.

As if the word itself charged through him, he was struck as by lightning down the metal of his own blade with such force as to take even him momentarily by surprise. The black iron swords dissolved, and he was thrown back. Almost blindly he reached up toward the floor as he tossed back and flipped himself over before he could land on his back, instead falling into a crouched position that would be somewhat more defensible if the god decided to genuinely assail him. But no action followed. Only more words, dull and distant.

Whether he heard was unclear at first, crouched like an animal, head bent, hair given nearly absurdly leonine volume from the remaining static left by the shock. He breathed evenly, but loudly, recovering from the physical shock, burned cells replenishing themselves. The pain was cold and numb, and light continued to crackle for several moments across the scarred body.

After a moment that hung suspended in the air like the electricity, there came a laugh. Not a madman’s laugh of glee in pain, but the softest joy and wondrous excitement of someone discovering an old friend, or reminded of the thrill that life once brought. Even as the blue crackled out of him, the laugh grew steadily in volume, and then stopped.

When he raised his head, he wore the wolf’s grin that haunted many survivors’ nightmares.

He kicked off from his crouch, movement now a blur to her and the cameras, a greatsword and smaller blade now forming for conjunctive use in his palms. He threw himself again, still a blurred motion, just barely fast enough for her and the remaining camera to see where he was and how he moved. With each heavy burst of breath came the edge of another laugh, another hint of that joy that revived itself, and he struck with far more strength behind each blow without losing an ounce of precision.

It was still not his whole strength, but he still was not certain what Catian Valor would endure, and he refused to give such a creature his whole if it deigned to accept harm from less. If it even knew what his full potential was, and did not merely intend to drive him to exhaustion from effort.

Well, there was only one way to find out about that.
[/div][/div][/div][div][attr="style","position:absolute;"]
[div][attr="style","position:relative;left:-181px;top:11px;width:150px;text-align:center;background-color:#FFFAFA;border:3px #1E9391 inset;padding:5px;font-family:courier new;color:#1E9391;"]DR. LEVI HOBBES
[img style="width:150px;" src="[URL]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/426247770299432962/1127009739637801091/shattered___dr__rights_by_sunnyclockwork_d8lijtd-pre.jpg[/URL]"]
[font color="#1E9391"]R-CLASS-E[/font][/div][/div][div style="background-color:#1E9391;border-top:#1E9391 4px outset;border-left:#1E9391 4px inset;border-right:#1E9391 4px outset;border-bottom:#1E9391 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#1E9391 4px inset;border-left:#1E9391 4px outset;border-right:#1E9391 4px inset;border-bottom:#1E9391 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:#FFFAFA;color:dimgray;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]Something wasn’t right in Pollux’s containment unit. Dr. Hobbes couldn’t quite place her finger on it, which was often the case with ontokinetics. But she’d surveyed that unit and studied the man inside as closely as she could without being killed herself. Her eyes narrowed gently at the images playing, and she was just about to call Castor over for a second opinion when the voice rose.

Hi. I know you’re watching.

Most of the room turned towards the noise. They turned in the direction they perceived it to be, except for Dr. Hobbes, who just looked up a little before returning her attention to her screen and the assets at play on it. Even if he had no intention to act as an asset, and she certainly hadn’t brought him here, he certainly had a lot of potential as such. There had to be an understanding, however, especially with one that dangerous, and by the powers that be she wanted to understand him. When she was someone else it’d been said of Levi Hobbes that she had eyes that not only undressed a person she looked at with that hard stare – she was vivisecting them with her mind. A worse woman in her position wouldn’t have stopped there, but she hadn’t lost enough of herself to be that person. She settled for her eyes and her mind, even if she only had one of each.

She may only have one set of eyes, but she also had a set of ears, and she could divide her attention that way. He had a show on that side, but she had to wonder if it was meant to be a distraction from this one. Did he assume Pollux’s poor performance was due to onlookers – or did he just want their eyes averted? Or was she overthinking this. That was also possible.

Monitor 8 reclaimed her attention for just a second. [font color="black"]“Sir, he’s taking…he’s taking Bessie for a walk. Permission to engage?”[/font]

He’d spoken again too, and she was already weighing the words. This reality. Strings would’ve known if those were wasted words, but he wasn’t here. Nor was Butterfly, who had the closest thing anyone on the Council recognized as a working relationship with the entity. So that left her, and a tenuous strand, and a small assumption.

Catian Valor had never taken something from the Foundation before, not that anyone – or anything – remembered, which was complicated, with ontokinetics, but less complicated with deity-class entities that exhibited anohuman behavior: they had some degree of consistency. Which meant that if he intended to leave with Behemoth, he was intending to bring it back. Possibly give it the choice, if it wanted to come back. And that was where synergy theory came into play, if it cared as much about Dr. Nein as much as he cared about it. There was only one way to find out: a test.

[font color="#1E9391"]“Let them go. Make sure to contact Karl and let him know. Queenie.”[/font] The butterfly on her glasses beat her wings once. [font color="#1E9391"]“Keep an eye on him. Bring her back if there’s an issue.”[/font]

Hesitation, from the monarch’s direction, and then another gentle wingbeat. Communication across over ten thousand threads to call up the best specimen for the job. Which was, conveniently, not otherwise preoccupied by anyone by the name of Harold Stines, and never had been– [/div][/div][/div][div][attr="style","position:absolute;"]
[div][attr="style","position:relative;left:-181px;top:11px;width:150px;text-align:center;background-color:black;border:3px #F9F6EE inset;padding:5px;font-family:courier new;color:#F9F6EE;"]ACF-666
[img style="width:150px;" src="[URL]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/426247770299432962/1129166684591243285/scp_3007_by_sunnyclockwork_db8mral-414w-2x.jpg[/URL]"]
BEHEMOTH[/div][/div][div style="background-color:#F9F6EE;border-top:#F9F6EE 4px outset;border-left:#F9F6EE 4px inset;border-right:#F9F6EE 4px outset;border-bottom:#F9F6EE 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#F9F6EE 4px inset;border-left:#F9F6EE 4px outset;border-right:#F9F6EE 4px inset;border-bottom:#F9F6EE 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:black;color:#F9F6EE;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"][font color="#fda675"]–and certainly wasn’t smug as she rested on the tip of Behemoth’s tail, because that would be dreadfully unfitting for a butterfly.[/font]

The painted lady was fully ignored by the beast on which she rested. It was accustomed to the butterflies. And it had once been accustomed to being smaller than these creatures, being the-small and the-weak, and it had once known what grass was, but that was even longer ago. It had never been smaller than a kind creature, however. It was therefore hesitant as the food was offered by the stranger who could be bigger-than and smaller-than and equal-to, and had settled on bigger. But he was gentle, and offered it food, and the beast smelled it to be sure it was good. Although, when it decided to accept the offering, it did so with the speed and distrust of a wild creature, taking a step away from the stranger as it was tasted and swallowed whole.

And then something changed – a shift in pressure, a distant smell. The air moved in a way it had only moved when it had breathed in this small chamber, and it remembered with a start what wind was, and where. The words of the stranger meant little, as well as the people who he was talking to, even though those creatures were likely familiar and were likely watching.

Familiar – they were familiar here. The beast looked back at the little eye he had broken off the wall and spoke to, the little eyes they used to watch, which it recognized because the first one who’d been kind to it had told it such. It was safe, because they were watching. Would it be safe when they were not watching? Would that first creature know if it was safe? Was he coming to tell it whether the out-there was for it, or whether it should remain in-here?

It blinked both pairs of its own now-little-eyes, and it looked back to the hole in the wall where there were such sounds and smells and warm lights. The newest creature had given it a feeling, an idea, a not-a-memory that helped it understand. It wanted to impress that image on him in return, that image of a man who had grown old over time, who had a kind face and now gray hair and a white coat which was also what the unkind ones had worn but this one bore his image, and he had such a soft voice and called it Bernard which almost felt like a name that was as kind as his voice and eyes and touch –

Bernard wanted the stranger to understand with all its will that it wanted to be sure it would see this kind man again, and that leaving would not hurt him. It had seen him hurt and could not bear to let that happen again. It had hurt him by accident once by being careless and he had gone away and it had been sure that there would be danger but he came back and there was no danger. Would this be like that?
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