Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

INCIDENT REPORT

INCIDENT #: 7601-808

DATE OF OCCURRENCE: 2022/01/01

A breach of security occurred in Site [REDACTED], wherein an anomalous entity suddenly appeared on the fourth floor of the facility, specifically in the Medical Wing. Eyewitness testimony states that a golden rectangle of light appeared in the air and a woman was dropped out of it. Briefly, on-site medical practitioner Nurse [REDACTED] reported to have glimpsed a second woman inside of the portal before it closed, having been peering through to watch the first woman fall. This second woman was caucasian, with short, straight black hair, and wearing a fedora and a suit. 

The woman that fell out of the portal was bleeding from what was reportedly two bullet wounds to the head. Taped to her chest was a letter that has since been confiscated and taken directly to the O5 council for review after a message that read "[REDACTED]" was seen to have been written on it. 

The woman is tall, thin, and caucasian. She has long, curly black hair and green eyes. Upon her entrance, she was wearing black armor with white panels, which has since been removed from her person and inspected closely, alongside the tool belt and backpack she had on. Further inspection revealed several anomalous traits of the items in her possession. 

After care was provided to the woman, it was revealed that she was not entirely in critical condition. Though she was missing her right arm, which looked to have been cauterized immediately after amputation, and sported several strange injuries, one of which seems to be an autopsy scar on her chest, and another that looked to be from a saw blade deliberately taken to her forehead and skull, the most debilitating injury, the gunshot wounds to her forehead, were not lethal. 

It was concluded that whoever had shot her had done so deliberately in such a precise manner that it would not kill her, only pass through a benign tumor in her head, as well as place her into a coma. 

NOTE 2022/03/05: After two months had passed, she had finally woken up. Though she seems to be disoriented and unable to speak, she is able to understand spoken language and gestures, as well as recognize certain things- such as her glasses. Further communication will be attempted, as well as physical therapy for her atrophied muscles. 

The items in her possession were as follows: 

1. Skintight armor consisting of a black bodysuit and white panels. Testing revealed the bodysuit to be made of spider silk, and the panels to be of arthropod chitin. These were constructed in such a seamless way that they provided bullet-proof and blade-proof protection. 
2. A pair of rectangular glasses, with a prescription of -4.25. 
3. Two cases of monthly contact lenses alongside the solution, with the above prescription. 
4. A white backpack made of unknown metallic material. What looked to be artificial double-jointed insect wings protruded from seams in the back, alongside a pair of robotic arms that had large pincers in the back. The pack was damaged and rendered unusable, though it was hypothesized to be made for the purpose of flight, as well as longer-range capability. Opening it up proved that the technology inside was indecipherable by any conventional, or unconventional, means. It has since been placed into a locker for containment. 
5. A utility belt, containing the following: 

1. A combat knife made of dark metal. Its hilt had a golden spiderweb decorating it, as well as a button. Upon testing it, the blade began to vibrate, and when using it on an object it cut through it with no resistance at all. More testing and inspection yielded that the blade was able to slice in between the very atoms of the material it cuts through. Further study of this technology must be done, which is why approval for use on 682 has been denied in the circumstance that it may break. 
2. A roll of intricately woven spidersilk. It is incredibly tensile. 
3. Multiple arthropod carcasses, including several species of incredibly venomous spiders, hornets, and wasps. Many of these insects were larger than average, and seemed to have been either genetically modified or naturally evolved into the form that they are in. 
4. A folded up picture. It features a small girl with green eyes and black hair in pigtails and glasses, alongside an adult woman with long, black hair and black eyes, and an adult man with thinning brown hair, green eyes, and glasses. This has been placed on the bedside table of the woman. 

Under the orders of the O5 council, she is to be given immediate medical treatment. 

END INCIDENT REPORT

Chapter Text

EXTENDED INCIDENT REPORT

INCIDENT #: 7601-808

* REDACTED NOTES:

Doctor [×××××]; Site Supervisor [×××××]

2022/01/03: Why do they care so much about taking care of this woman? She seems like any other anomaly, if a lost cause. It's unlikely she'll wake up- many a times has a defiance of the natural order occured in this foundation, but a wound like that on what looks to be an otherwise baseline human with no regenerative properties is most certainly debilitating, even if she has since stabilized. Time will tell. 

2022/02/28: Well, the past few days have been a little chaotic. You'd think in a place like this gossip wouldn't be so rampant, but maybe it's because this time the situation at hand concerns a humanoid anomaly rather than the non-euclidian oh-God-why anomalies we usually have to deal with. In any case, it's been confirmed that the woman originates from an alternate universe. The O5 council decided to release information, but only some of what the letter contained was given to the Site Staff, and a majority of it was kept only for those with higher clearance. 

2022/03/04: The rest of the letter has been divulged to the higher clearance staff, myself included. There was a USB contained within. The things on there… how did we manage to miss an XK event on a multiversal level? We are concerned about the existence of a species of these entities. And that woman… [NAME REDACTED]. I must say, my opinions have drastically shifted after seeing what she did in order [DATA EXPUNGED]. Terrifying, because she was a high level threat at a moment in time, but in the end I have to respect her due diligence to [DATA EXPUNGED]. 

2022/03/05: She woke up! I must say, I'm rather intrigued to meet her. We see alternate dimensions in the thousands, but hers was quite interesting. Par for the course, what with the nazis and the murder hobos and the world ending threats, but interesting enough what with its rich history and culture, as well as its… ahem, unique way of dealing with the anomalies they designate "Parahumans". 

2022/03/15: She said her first word. "Bumblebee." Somehow, I'm not surprised. 

*END REDACTED NOTES.

Additional note from Site Supervisor [×××××]: If anyone other than Doctor [×××××] is reading this, let this be an unpleasant reminder that the anomaly is still being examined with a pending status. She is not to be visited by any staff OTHER than those that are personally taking care of her case. If I hear word of another staff member bothering her about superheroes or whatever other nonsense like that, I will personally visit you. You do not want me to personally visit you. I am running on three bottles of five-hour energies and twelve shots of espresso. I will not hold back from physical violence. 

Additional note from Doctor [×××××]: Sir, please get some sleep.

Additional note from Site Supervisor [×××××]: Fuck you. No. 

Chapter Text

"This is Doctor Wilfred Armstrong, conducting a short interview with SCP-BET-001. SCP-BET-001 is a woman who comes from a different reality than our own, as well as being predisposed to abilities of anomalous origins."

"Is it necessary to talk about me like I'm not here?" A cool voice interrupted Doctor Armstrong's diatribe, and the older man cleared his throat and set the tape recorder aside, letting it run. 

"My apologies, BET-001-" 

"Taylor Hebert. I understand you have a policy against using names, but that designation is a mouthful, and I'm not particularly a fan of being reduced to a number," she gave him a tired, unamused look that would have had him shifting uncomfortably in his seat were he not a seasoned staff member of the Foundation. 

"... Very well, Miss Hebert. I will respect your wishes for this interview," he conceded, if only because it would make her slightly more relaxed for the interrogative questions that were to ensue. 

She visibly calmed, her tense expression smoothing back out into her usual placid, blank features. Taylor Hebert crossed her legs and rested her single hand on her knee. 

"Thank you," she said. Armstrong allowed a placid smile on his face. 

"Now this interview is for the benefit of assessing your current mental health and state of being. I trust that our medical staff have been treating you well?" He queried. 

Taylor held up her left arm. It was still trembling, and it was with great difficulty that she curled in each of her fingers into a fist, but she managed. A pained look entered her eyes, perhaps the memory of those first few weeks being awake and entirely helpless having been reawakened within her. 

The things that directly connecting to a planet-sized superorganism did to your brain was perhaps to be expected. 

She looked up at the man sitting across from her, still holding her hand up. "Three months ago, when I woke up within this facility, I wasn't even capable of moving anything save for my head," she softly said. "The people working with me now predict I may be able to start walking again within the next month. I'm more than grateful to them for that."

Sentiment wasn't a thing you'd usually see in the foundation- things like that were left at home, where the heart couldn't interfere with the mind. Despite that, it wasn't unwelcome, and as cold and methodical as it may sound, an anomaly being agreeable with foundation personnel was advantageous in the way of getting them to cooperate. They could be needlessly stubborn, sometimes. 

"That's good to hear. I've heard talk of a possible prosthetic being outfitted for you in the future, should it get approved," he said conversationally. "How do you feel about that?" 

At this her lips thinned- which was a feat in and of itself, as she had little lip to begin with- and though she kept steady eye contact, her gaze grew a touch colder. 

"I'm not entirely sure I'm ready for that," here her fingers flexed unconsciously, pushing through the struggle that it was to move the joints. "And I'm not entirely sure that this is as much of a boon as someone else in my position would have seen it to be."

Armstrong's brow rose slightly, though his composure was otherwise perfect. Though she was tight lipped about many things- personal things, things of the emotional nature and, consequently, made her a nightmare for the psychology department to deal with- she could be surprisingly straightforward when it came to speaking what was on her mind. 

"And why is that?" Armstrong asked. His fingers itched for his pencil as he saw her expression shift, wanting to catalogue her minute reactions. He knew, however, that doing so would make her clam up all too tightly. 

Taylor's lips shifted into a wry smile. "Because I'm not entirely here of my own free will, Doctor. When you give something to a prisoner, it is not a gift- it is a message," she looked down at her nub. "I'd prefer not to rely on the SCP Foundation for my own wellbeing."

"So you won't take it, then?" Armstrong folded his fingers together, studying her curiously. 

"I never said that," Taylor smiled, but there was no humor behind it. "I'm a suspicious girl… woman, but I'm not an idiot." 

Armstrong leaned back in his chair, stroking his graying beard as he appraised her. She was sitting ramrod straight, her shoulders set confidently and her head held high. In contrast, her gaze was downcast, straying on the space where her right arm would've been, and a slight frown was quick to overtake her expression. 

It was then that Armstrong realized that she always looked unhappy, to some extent. Unhappy or blank. To outsiders it would've been simple to assume she just wasn't all that pleased with her current predicament, but it was more than clear that she suffered trauma, both physical and psychological. 

For a facility that had a wide array of combatant personnel, it was not hard to discern that she had PTSD, and possibly some form of mild depression. 

Armstrong reminded himself to push the cross testing between her and SCP-999 to a closer date. 

With that, he cleared his throat to catch her attention. Once those cold green eyes were locked on him, he spoke. "That's a sentiment many of the other sentient anomalies here share," he said, knowing that she appreciated frankness more than wordplay. Something about a cauldron, but that was all he had gotten out of her. "Though in their case they either reject whatever we offer them out of spite, or they ask for more improbable things."

"You mean other people ," Taylor said. 

Armstrong shook his head. "No. Sentients. Many of our independently-minded SCPs are not human at all. One is a homicidal mask with a knack for manipulating its victims into putting it on so that it may possess them. Another is a giant, man-eating lizard with a hatred of what is conceivably every single thing in the world, save for a few exceptions. Both are dangerous, sentient anomalies that we have attempted to barter with." Armstrong leaned forward in his seat and spread his hands. "Both have rejected our offers." 

Taylor was silent for a moment, processing that. Then she shook her head in slight disbelief, sighing as she leaned back in her chair. A wave of exhaustion seemed to fall over her face, but at the same time she looked as though she was experiencing some familiarity. 

"Is something the problem?" He prompted. 

"No. No, it's just that…" She left the words hanging for a minute, struggling to finish her sentence. "Whenever I feel as though I'm getting familiar with things, I am once again thrown for a loop. I suppose that's my mistake in trying to draw too many similarities between this place and… home."

Armstrong paused at that. Taylor Hebert was not fond of speaking about where she came from. The fact that they knew what parahumans- and their origins- even were came all from that little USB that the woman in question arrived with. Despite that, there were quite a few things about her world that were unknown- historical events, cultural and societal changes, and other such mysteries that itched the curious part of many scientific minds within the facility. 

"Would you feel comfortable elaborating about that?" Armstrong asked. 

Taylor gave him a scrutinizing look. "I didn't think this would be a therapy appointment."

"It isn't. In all respects it is a psychological assessment, as well as a way to gauge your status fitting in within this facility as of now," Armstrong said. "However, that doesn't mean you don't have to speak about past events and how they affect the way you currently perceive things. By all means, if you feel as though you'd be getting weight off of your chest or this would assist in processing certain factors in your current environment, then go right ahead."

Taylor peered at him from behind her glasses. Her fingers twitched, jerky, just like the rest of her- her body was a taut line of tension, muscles coiled and ready to strike, her owlish eyes ever narrowed and intensely focused. She was always in flight or fight mode, and she leaned more towards fight. However, this one time she let the tension ebb out of her body as she took a deep breath in, held it, and let it out. 

"Back in my world- Earth Bet, as I'm sure you know- we had… somewhat similar procedures for containing dangerous parahumans. Not entirely, of course, but to a degree it's somewhat familiar to me," she tapped the side of her thigh. "They called it the Birdcage. A maximum security prison for criminal parahumans who've crossed the line between acceptable villainy and unacceptable villainy."

"There was an acceptable form of criminal activity in your world?" He asked, raising a brow. 

She smiled wryly. "Not exactly. You still get in some amount of trouble for robbing a bank, but it's only the really egregious crimes that get you Birdcaged. Rape, trafficking, mind control, advocating for your followers to castrate men…"

That last one felt a bit too specific to just be a general statement. 

"Whatever it is, as long as you don't rock the boat, you don't get Birdcaged," she said. 

"What of the "Birdcage" itself?" Why did she find it similar to the SCP Foundation? 

"When I say it's maximum security, I mean that nobody can leave. Nobody. The minute you're locked in there, it's the end," she paused, and then tilted her head. "Save for very few exceptions."

"So it's the finality of it that reminds you of the facility?" 

"Yes. No… anomaly here will ever be able to leave, I don't think. Even if this place isn't locked away inside of a vacuum in a mountain, this… Foundation is efficient at what it does. I can see that, even after only being here for a few months," she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"You don't seem too torn up about it."

"I'm familiar with extreme measures being taken for the greater good," too familiar, from the tired look in her eyes. "At least it's working this time." 

Very soon after that, their session ended. Taylor left, most likely back within the comforts of her containment cell, and Armstrong was left pondering over the tapes left by her. 

Some things were out of place in their interview. Key facets of information were missing, a great divide between Taylor Hebert's own recounting and her perception of the Foundation. 

For one, the "Birdcage" only really resembled how the facilities were structured, not how the Foundation itself operated. And, for two… what on Earth did she mean by, "At least it's working this time"? 

Armstrong shook his head and set the tape recorder down. No, that wasn't too important right now. Right now he needed to finish his documentation, and submit transcripts of the conversation. Whatever mysteries of Earth Bet that existed were currently low priority. 

It was still a curiosity, though. A tingling in the back of his mind, his thoughts trailing over to their conversation, and then back to the contents of the USB. One word in all the files within it had no elaboration, no explanation. It was brushed off by many, but its reappearance every now and again left him wondering. 

What in the world was "Cauldron"?