For context, this document was written in February of 2024 and features many players and characters who are now in different positions or retired. That being said , this is a story I promised to write almost a full year ago for Javelin/Genetecist/Espeon. He's been very patient so I hope I delivered on it a full year later. It is a three chapter document written for Foundation characters on SCP-RP US.
The unedited version on a google doc can be read here with all of it's glorious formatting: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dJLri1VIrEQ7Fw3tTlBTX-3YdO5RrdPRAde2iSxRqWs/edit?usp=sharing
And hey, if you enjoy this and read this whole thing - here's another one backdated almost a year ago I never even published as an easter egg: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Y1oTkV19IGbDeyq2au8Q27KGea6_gz-McfN33SP7CvE/edit?usp=sharing
The unedited version on a google doc can be read here with all of it's glorious formatting: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dJLri1VIrEQ7Fw3tTlBTX-3YdO5RrdPRAde2iSxRqWs/edit?usp=sharing
And hey, if you enjoy this and read this whole thing - here's another one backdated almost a year ago I never even published as an easter egg: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Y1oTkV19IGbDeyq2au8Q27KGea6_gz-McfN33SP7CvE/edit?usp=sharing
Operation Lancelot
Written by Epicap
Written by Epicap
Chapter 1:
An Empty Throne
Featured In-Game Characters:An Empty Throne
- O5-4 “The Geneticist”
- Command Sergeant “Harlequin”
- Tech Expert Green
Cold hands with fingers knit, sat firmly atop elbows on the table. The Overseer hunched over his desk glaring at the door opposite him, awaited his invited guest with a grim, yet eager regard. Almost a full year of waiting for answers and now, albeit with a boost from some drugs for jogging memory, he would finally have them. Months of pulling up black tape and administering Class X amnestics would finally reveal the cruel puppeteer to his marionette-like career.
O5-4, blew out a sigh then collected himself back into his padded leather seat. Being overeager would backfire, as a military man he knew that. Even if he finally caught the scent this could just as well be another dead-end and waste of personal resources. However this was the closest the Overseer ever felt and his instincts for hunting cried that his prey was tiring in its endless flight.
The metal doors hissed, sliding apart until the Overseer regarded the A-1 soldier that strode inside. Command Sergeant Harlequin kept his gun holstered and his expression, what little could be seen, showed little self-doubt. While the doors slid shut behind the soldier, the Overseer noted the command sergeant’s furrowed eyebrows. The dark mask on his face rubbed up and down as he spoke,
“He’ll be here in just a moment sir. We found him fixing a door over by the Ethics Wing. Unlikely we were spotted, but I’ll have a couple guys canvas with some Class A just in case.”
The Overseer nodded, adjusting his glasses. His rugged, yet casual voice replied, “On the double then. I'm not eager for the Chief to come banging on my door over another one of these.”
Harlequin stepped into the side of the room by a bookcase and put a gloved hand to his earpiece. A few orders and a few moments later, affirmative replies called back in his ears. The A-1 gave a salute to the Overseer, then moved his hands back to his holstered gun and waited. Four gave a moment to admire his office that lacked some of the space and personal touch that his old Chairman office possessed, but it certainly displayed a sort-of formal charm that he quite appreciated. Perfect for making someone of lower clearance uncomfortable from the start of a questioning.
A couple tense quiet minutes passed, with neither the Overseer’s eyes nor the A-1’s darkened glasses leaving those shiny dark metal doors. Finally the familiar hiss echoed in the room once again, the entrance parting to reveal a black-helmeted tech expert with two cuffed hands in front of him. An A-1 soldier behind the technician forcefully shoved the technician down into the room, onto his knees in front of the Overseer’s desk. The dense metal tools fell from the man’s belt, clattering loudly around him. The Overseer could only guess behind the dense mask and tinted goggles, an expression of pure fear awaited him. The doors slid shut one final time, trapping the prone man inside. The Overseer grinned maliciously as he instructed,
“Stand up, you get shot. Move your hands anywhere but in front of you, you get shot. Fail to follow any instructions, you get shot.”
The tech expert eagerly nodded in response, maintaining his position on his knees before his superior. Four sat forward and looked down his nose at this man. The Overseer considered what wasteful potential could make this man give up so much, just to end up back here on Floor 3 after all this time.
“State your name and position,” the Overseer stated with an icy tone to the command.
A muffled voice meekly replied, “T-T-Tech Expert Green, sir.”
A wave from Four quickly brought Harlequin to the side of the tech expert. The A-1 visibly brandished a syringe containing a faintly glowing mint-colored liquid that viscously churned inside.
“State your name and position,” repeated the Overseer more viciously.
The meek voice stammered back, “T-T-Tech Expert Green, sir! It really is!”
Harlequin grabbed Green by the back of his neck and lifted the technician into a standing position. The Overseer nodded and signaled to Harlequin with a quick hand gesture. The syringe jammed inside the tech expert’s arm and Harlequin deftly forced the sinister liquid inside with a trigger pull. The Overseer eagerly leaned back onto the desk, knitting his fingers and staring as the tech expert began to spasm. The only thing keeping the technician from falling was the firm grip on the back of his neck.
The spasming came to a sudden stop and the tech expert’s helmeted head slumped forward. Another hand gesture from the O5 member made Harlequin release the straps and mask on the tech expert’s face. Harlequin slowly pulled the mask off of the technician’s face, allowing the room's dim lighting to wash over the figure's visage. As Harlequin took in the face of the man, Four noted a momentary wince from the A-1’s normally collected expression. Although odd, the Overseer focused on the revealed features in front of him while Harlequin stepped back to a position to watch from.
The slumped figure straightened out, his legs now supporting his own weight. The posture, previously timid and meek, now aligned with strength, confidence, and even a hint of superiority. The former tech expert’s face smoothed out until only a mischievous and arrogant grin remained. His eyes snapped open and locked with O5-4’s as the men regarded each other.
The Overseers stared at each other, but the newly conscious one began laughing.
Chapter 2:
The Last Will and Testament
Featured In-Game Characters:The Last Will and Testament
- Site Advisor Randal Murphy
- Medic Eric “Epicap” Cappington
A gentle knock on the wooden door to Randal’s office in the Site Administration Wing, let the Site Advisor know his scheduled appointment at 3 o’clock finally arrived. With a slight huff Randal stood up from his desk, turning off the monitor on it to prevent any accidental CL4 leaks. As he opened the door, Randal regarded the medic on the other side who was rifling through papers on a clipboard. The medic finally looked up after a few more shuffled papers, noticing the Site Advisor’s annoyed expression.
“Hello sir, Dr. Cappington here for your 3 o’clock therapy session,” hurriedly spoke the medic.
“That 3 o’clock started ten minutes ago, Eric. How are you exactly ten minutes late every week? You’ve got to be doing this on purpose!” Randal spoke with notable exasperation. Every week for months the advisor tried to delete this meeting from his calendar or call and cancel, but every week it still wound back up there and Eric still showed up ten minutes late.
“My bad, sir. Got caught up arguing with an IA about the limitations of the Code of Conduct and zoning clearances. Really wish I could take a look at fixing those,” Eric said, his eyes glazing over with a faraway look.
Randal snapped his fingers and motioned for Eric to enter. Eric, entering and settling into his usual seat, continued rifling through his notes. Randal swore this doctor either possessed no actual ability to organize or just possessed no actual medical license. At the very least if only the doctors could be switched, Randal would feel more comfortable. Dr. Cappington always made him uneasy in a variety of ways the advisor could never quite put a finger on.
Eric finally pulled a piece of paper out from his crumpled pile and smoothed it on the top of his clipboard. He smiled, looking Randal up and down then eyeing up the advisor’s desk..
“So sir, still not willing to crack open a bottle for us during these then? I really think it’s a shame for neither of us to drink. We are after all on the same side here.”
The words formed an uneasy pit in Randal’s stomach. His brain itched like some memory about this medic kept trying to scratch its way out of a metal vault. The aloof medic felt so familiar and in some ways, he even felt like they did possess a certain kinship. However, something always felt like the two were meeting over annoyances or troubles rather than just sitting for some therapy.
“Let’s just get to it, Eric. I’m not really looking for a drinking buddy during working hours,” Randal curtly responded. Eric’s expression flattened, he almost even looked… dejected? Where did the Foundation hire such an unprofessional doctor?
Eric gazed back down at his papers and began speaking, “Right… So last week we spoke about how you feel regarding lost friends and coworkers. I think we finally came to some important breakthroughs!”
Randal’s eyes glared back. In a low annoyed voice the advisor replied, “You laughed at me when I sounded sad. When I spoke about Crow, you almost vomited from laughing so hard. We ended the session with me physically throwing you out and telling you not to come back. Yet here you are again.” Randal rubbed his temples and wondered if all therapy felt this exhausting.
The doctor chuckled for a few seconds, then spoke in his usual over-casual demeanor, “Look I don’t make the schedule, I just come where the schedule says to come. Besides, how could I possibly go a full week without catching up with my old pal Randal!”
Randal opened his mouth to raise his voice and objections, before the door to his office imploded. It sailed across the other side of the room with splinters scattering from the now-lost hinges. A multitude of A-1 streamed into the room, surrounding the pair of men. Randal leapt up from his seat, erupting into a string of curses that was cut off by Command Sergeant Harlequin stepping inside with a loud stomp. Harlequin stepped up behind the seated doctor whose eyes only stared dead ahead. With no regard for the command sergeant, Eric calmly stood up and continued speaking to Randal,
“Well so much for retirement. Guess we’ll have to push this session to another day, Randal. Typical of Espeon to get the drop on us, huh?” With a chuckle the medic turned to follow Harlequin who now began marching out of the room. The A-1 flanked the doctor on all sides as they escorted him away from the office.
Randal’s mind was a blur of emotions and thoughts, each more intrusive than the last. Finally his brain settled on one final thing as he sprinted to the door and shouted,
“DON’T YOU DARE RESCHEDULE THIS!”
Chapter 3:
The Right Hand
Featured In-Game Characters:The Right Hand
- O5-4 “The Geneticist”
- Command Sergeant “Harlequin”
- Tech Expert Green, formerly O5-3 “The Forgotten”
- Medic Eric “Epicap” Cappington, formerly O5-1 “The Tempest”
Harlequin’ day started with nothing more than the usual orders: PT, collect some amnestics, guard duty. Expecting the unexpected, still failed to prepare him for this particular day’s chaos and barrage of new orders. The Command Sergeant knew that O5-4’s excitement displayed some peculiar tendencies and clearly none of the other O5 were even remotely aware. O5-4 tended to make calculated moves, the man’s obvious prodigal administrative abilities always amazing the A-1.
However, a good A-1 never questioned orders and Harlequin, if nothing else, was a good A-1. If Harlequin were ever honest with himself, the glaring gaps in his memory made it difficult to remember what else he ever excelled at. Nobody paid Harlequin to be honest though, so his life steeped in ignorance continued through this hellscape of a day.
How Harlequin found himself in the freezing server room with two beaten and bloodied subpar employees, a sore fist, and O5-4 - still managed to raise a couple questions in Harlequin’s amnestic-riddled mind. The men, familiar to the soldier but unplaceable, strolled in earlier so confidently with their metal cuffs tight enough to chafe their wrists to the bone. Even now through bruised cheeks and bloodied mouths, both the men smirked and continued to exchange glances.
The man in medic clothes spit to his side, his blood coagulating on the icy floor.
“Alright Espy, you’ve got us here all tenderized now. We’ll speak, we’ll speak. Just cut Harlequin some slack and let him at least wrap his knuckles before round two.”
Harlequin winced at the acknowledgement of his own name as well as the painful feeling on his right hand. The bloodied and battered faces of these men matched the skin so cracked and torn on the old soldier’s own knuckles. .
O5-4 stood several feet behind Harlequin, taking in the measure of these men that the A-1 brought up to Floor 3.
“I already gained most of the knowledge I needed before I even captured you both. Pulling tape up was no easy feat, but I’d say that faking your deaths after all the chaos you caused was probably more difficult. I never did get to thank you for the hassle you dropped in Ethic’s lap at the time.”
Harlequin barely even registered the Overseer’s gesture before his fist bashed into the fake medic’s stomach. The man crumpled over onto his knees gasping for air. The fake tech expert finally spoke in a tired voice,
“Look, you’ve dragged two retired men up here just for a beating. That’s no way to say thank you for all of our great time together.”
Even Harlequin rolled his eyes at the lame attempts by these men to goad the Overseer into some rage. Sure, O5-4 could get frustrated like anybody - but the man rarely displayed raw anger. The A-1’s fist gave a bruise on the stomach to the faux tech expert that matched the doubled-over doctor’s. Two men now laid at Harlequin’s feet, leaving a minor pang of sadness at the back of his mind; but for all his wondering, the soldier could not explain why.
O5-4 remained silent for a minute to let the rasping men catch their breath. Finally he casually spoke,
“I tolerated both of your jabs when we were considered ‘equals,’ but I’m pretty tired of these games. I want to know on whose orders my career track moved. There’s no documents regarding some of the obvious amnestication of coworkers or managers, no proof of who continuously swayed my peers to change their opinions of so much that was clearly counter to their beliefs, no named figurehead that I could poke my finger at to tell them I never needed any help. I am capable, have always been capable, and will continue this capability for as long as the Foundation needs me.”
The once-medic slumped and rolled onto his knees, lifting his head to see the O5’s dissatisfied expression. Harlequin saw the defiance in the prone man’s eyes and reflexively made his right hand into a fist.
“What could we possibly tell you? We liked what we saw in you? A young confident worker strolling boldly onto the scene? We never did anything that we weren’t ordered to. You’re not the only one that lost friends because some insane course had been laid out for you the moment you were hired.”
Eric made to spit towards the O5, but his bloody saliva only landed on the boot that Harlequin kicked his jaw with. Eric’s body ragdolled sideways, spinning on the floor and stopping in front of Green. The fake medic was alive, but barely conscious from the swift kick that had spiraled him there.
Green’s eyes went from amused to furious in just moments. Harlequin’s eyes narrowed as his muscles tensed, preparing to deliver another blow to either of the men if they moved again. The tech expert remained in place, his voice finally raising,
“You think you can just drag us from our graves and then desecrate our legacies?! You think that you’re the only meticulous planner among Overseers?! I will tell you this: the one you want is the highest power of all and it’s so obvious, you won’t even believe it! And YOU,” Green’s voice boomed as he turned to regard Harlequin from the side of his eyes, “You should be ashamed! Kicking a former commander.”
Harlequin’s right hand tensed, but no fist formed. Something about the comment sent his mind spiraling. The soldier’s near-perfect vision blurred, his pulse quickened, and sweat began to form on his brow. His body reflexively took a step back and caught his balance as he put a hand to the side of his throbbing temple. A soft and raspy voice came up to him from the floor,
“Harlequin, it’s alright. Take a breath and remember: Good soldiers follow orders.”
Harlequin’s vision darkened until all at once the sound and sight of this room grew dark and still. As he lapsed into the void of unconsciousness, the poor soldier’s only remaining thought persisted:
Who the hell were these jackasses?
O5-4 caught Harlequin moments before his head would have slammed into the server racks. The Overseer lowered his bodyguard to the floor and turned back to chastise the beaten former Overseers. When he turned however, the room was empty of people save for the unconscious A-1 and himself.
“Fuck. FUCK! God damn it, Eric and Green,” the Overseer spoke then briefly paused. After a few calming beats, under his breath he muttered, “So the Administrator then?”
It was obvious, but what sane man wanted to hunt a god?
Then again, he’d never backed down from any force before, not even the Chief himself. O5-4 “The Geneticist” steeled his mind for his toughest prey yet.
“Well those old fools can still enjoy their retirement a bit longer before I put them back on the chessboard.”
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