A Tale of Two Sites
rating: +6+x

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

-A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens

Some stories are timeless, works of art that can be recognized and valued for hundreds of years. Others are lost in archives, buried underneath the refuse of knowledge that time brings about, true diamonds in the rough. Alas, this story resembles the latter.

Excerpt from the diary of Researcher Ryan Miller

December 19, 1970

What does it take to create a legend? Heroic acts, heinous evil, good storytelling? I think it's a bit of all three, plus more. Every hero has that unseen darkness within them. The heart is a strange thing. I think mine is pure. I hope I did the right thing. God help me.

In the year 1969, two Foundation Sites, one located in the Great Victoria Desert in Australia, miles from any sign of civilization, and the other on a remote island in the North Atlantic, the existence of which is completely unknown to all but the highest ranking Foundation personnel, experienced mass containment breaches at the exact same moment in time. These catastrophic incidents resulted in what was thought to be total loss of all personnel, as both on-site nuclear warheads (brand-new models based on American nuclear research at the time) were detonated. This was discovered to not be the case almost 45 years later.

An SCP, no longer even logged by the Foundation, that proved to be one of the most crucial objects ever to come into the Foundation's hands-

A Level 2 Researcher tasked with containing and researching a spatial anomaly-

Two inexplicably linked Foundation sites, burned into history, but unknown to most-

The perfect storm.

Begin Log

Ryan awoke to stomping feet passing by his personal office. Fuck, how long have I been asleep? He straightened his tie, dusted off his jacket, and took a swig of what was a hot coffee a few hours before.

The boots of a Mobile Task Force marched loudly down the hall, a proud puzzle piece of the thin screen that worked tirelessly to prevent total annihilation of life as humanity knows it.

Existence is pretty fragile, you know.

A normally bizarre day at the office, Ryan thought to himself as he wrote a report on a spatial anomaly that for some reason happened to be capable of warping objects and people between Site-220 (My home in the middle of this godforsaken desert, and where I'll probably die, he shuddered) that he had sent a D-Class through earlier in the day. The D-Class was sent right back looking shaken, with a note that read "You just teleported this fucker into my bathroom stall, asshole." Ryan chuckled to himself as he wrote.

Anomaly is not sentient as far as we know, however, if it is, it has a sense of humour. Locations objects have ended up include:
One (1) sheet of paper reappearing taped to the back of a D-Class at Site 234 with the note "Kick Me."
One (1) Male D-Class reappearing straddling a researcher in the middle of using the restroom

The PA system buzzed to life with a burst of static, followed by the voice of the Site Director, an American, using the worst fake Australian accent he could muster-

"Oi, we gotta Euclid Breach in the West Wing, part C. Fucked up its containment but it's aight, we got the wing on lockdown. Resume ya normal procedures.

"Asshole," Ryan muttered to himself. He kept writing.

Another day passed, and Ryan found himself back in the anomaly's containment unit, ignoring the interns gossiping about the breach that apparently was still going on out in the West Wing. Site 234 was on full preparation to receive a small red ball that would be sent through his SCP in a few moments, to see where it'd end up this time.

3…

2…

1…

Drop it in, boys.

And so, the Tale of Two Sites begins.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License