The SCP Experience - Predator Drone | SCP-160 (Part 2)

Episode Date: March 29, 2024

Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-160: Predator Drone This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-160 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Lucas Click * * * DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The old woman clings to me, gasping for breath. I'm not in much better shape than her. I quit smoking last year, supplementing the nasty habit with nicotine-flavored vapor or rock-hard gum. Hopefully, it's enough to stop the heart attack or cancer that's been barreling toward me most of my life. But time will tell. Quitting smoking doesn't undo the years of damage,

nor does it magically put anyone in shape. I might have lost some weight, but I'm still nobody's definition of fit. The old woman, stricken with panic and love for her kidnapped dog, had run across the field despite her advanced years. She looks like a gentle breeze will knock her over, but then, covered in sweat and panting, I know I'm not looking any better.

She screamed something in my ear as her nails dig into my shirt, but I can't make it out, not with all the other shouts and barking and golfing the dog park. Don't worry. I suck in a deep breath and hear her sharp nails. My partner is on it, and help is on the way. Partner, that's not the right word. But I chose to put the woman's mind at ease.

Gus isn't my equal. He's my responsibility. And I let him rush off into a forest with my gun because I needed a minute to catch my breath. Guilt and shame gang up on my conscience. Before Gus left, I told him about my greatest failure as a foundation agent, the day I screwed up, and a father and son paid the ultimate price. I see the way the kid looks at me.

The idiot thinks I'm one of the good guys, and I like to think so too, most days. But good guys don't last long at the foundation. And didn't I point a gun at a dumb kid a few hours ago? A few hours. Shit. It's remarkable how fast things can go south. Cody! I've never been so happy to hear Minnie's voice,

even though I'm surprised to see her running toward me. Creed is close behind her. Their presence throws more chaos in the mix, but that probably has more to do with the automatic shotgun strapped to her back and the Uzi in Creed's hands. Kane and his mentee, a young woman named Olivia Noak, bring up the rear. Everyone's accounted for, except Gus.

How did you get here so fast? I take a breath, grateful that it settles in my lungs instead of continuing to do the respiratory equivalent of a gatling gun. Many frowns. You said you needed help. Are you psychic? Because you're not allowed to get hotter. The SC phone! It's the first time I've heard Noak speak.

Her voice, a frantic, excited burst that I wouldn't have expected from the shy girl on the plane. It sent out an automatic distress signal when it heard you and Cadet Health were in trouble. It also pinged us with your coordinates and supplied the last five minutes of video from both phones. It's a remarkable device. I suppress my annoyance, but can't stop the grumbling under my breath. Sure, those are all great features for field agents. But I can't help but wonder if the phone's rescue is a side effect, and the foundation's primary goal is to use the phones as a surveillance device.

I can worry about the ramifications of the potential violations of personal liberties after we rescue. you Gus. So, you guys know Gus ran ahead. He's alone in the woods with an unknown anomaly. Minnie, please tell me you have another gun. Of course, she smiles and unholsters a Beretta from her back, then hands it to me. A woman has to come prepared. I packed the right accessory for any occasion. God, I love you. She flinches as I take the pistol from her. I realize it's the first time I've ever said those three words to her, and that she hasn't said it back. One more thing I'll have to put off until later. Gus couldn't have picked a creepier forest to go missing in. The trees are ancient, twisted, and gnarled with age. They surround us, their thick blanket of leaves

blocking out the sky, plunging us into shadows. Thankfully, the SE phones come with a light several times brighter than any I've ever used. I glance at the screen. looking for Gus's icon. I'm amazed the heavy use isn't draining the phone's battery. A barrage of gunshots from deep within the forest make Noak yell. Kane remains as passive as usual, while Minnie and Creed ready their weapons and look around for the source of the noise. Gus!

I yell, hoping he's close, but I know from the phone he's not. Agent Hill! Noak says and points through a thicket of trees. This would be a shortcut. Unlike the trainees, My phone gave me unrestricted access to the town's history. That's how I know there was a petition 50 years ago when the public park was first proposed to the city council.

The surrounding woodland was the site of a local battle during the Civil War. For generations, it has been spared being torn down for development, preserved by locals trying to hold on to a piece of history. I steady my resolve and look toward Kane. Take the lead. Kane nods and slips out of the first. heavy boots adorning his feet. I'll do my utmost to mitigate the damage.

As a precautionary measure, however, everyone should keep their distance. Like I need to be told, freak show, creed mutters, but not quietly enough for me not to hear. Any guilt I had about putting a gun to his head vanishes, and I'm rewarded with him wilting under my glare. I glance at Minnie, wondering just what she sees in this prick, but she quickly turns away. Kane steps forward and tears the bulky sleeves away from his sweater, revealing smooth and unblemished metal up to his shoulders. Creed blinks and stares in wonder. No whack is also staring, but her expression is the same eager excitement from earlier. I might have to talk to Kane when the job is over.

He's an expert in damn near any field imaginable, but the subtleties of human emotions always seem to elude him. Kane crouches down in a sprinter stance. He takes off running. His arms open wide as he plows through the trees. Touching as many as he can as he charges ahead. Creed frowns again. Is that it? I thought you were sending Robo Nerd ahead because he was like the Flash or...

Growning wood drowns out the rest of Kane's complaint. The first tree Kane touched, creaks as branches that have stood for centuries drop toward the ground. They turn gray before they hit and explode and, a pile of ash. Creed's mouth drops open as the effect spreads. Trees, leaves, and even the ground take on a sticky gray hue. Following cane is easy now. We just have to follow the trail of death. When cane comes in contact with plant-based matter, it erodes and evaporates into nothing. Even the soil is stripped away of all bacteria, leaving the land as barren as the surface of the moon. By unleashing cane, I've killed

what generations of residents have protected for nearly 200 years. Kane is doing his best to keep the damage contained. But this strip of forest will never live again. All because of my order. Come on! I shove creed forward. We've got to get moving. Lasagne sur-gelley,

puissance-moly for 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo. Prere to play. Vive the pleasure with the Ojo, the casino on-line, that proposes the most recent machine-assine and the games of casino in direct. Profite to 50 tours

gratuys on Big Bas Bonanza without exigance of and with the payments instantane. Hey, I've gained. Woohoo! Sentire the pleasure. Play-Ojo!

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a way responsible. The conditions apply. We'll say, in the phone, all the world can be a guy of the finance. Not a business.

Not been to have a gross monger in art, to play to golf or to be a pro of the crypto. Not enough no longer.

In the case, You have always made the affairs, and the apply, Negoti, T-D, you add to renew with your instinct of negotiation.

With the support 24-hour-hour- -hour-day, no amount of minimum, nor fray-mensue. You're made for negotiate, T-D,

is made to you help right now. We kick through the ash at a rapid clip. The sounds of battle grow louder the farther we go.

After a few minutes, we reached our destination. Gus is on a rapid unconscious on the ground. A bruise, the size of an egg is above his eye. His hand is a furious shade of red and swelled twice to its original size. Kane has him by the shoulders and drags him towards us while dozens of drones buzz all around him. They're all shapes and sizes, from the cheap, plastic models you get your nephew for his birthday, to the monstrous behemoths favored by neighborhood watches with too much money and free time. But each model has two things in common. Every

on the drone glows with the same blue light. The front of each drone ends with a metal barb. Some are little more than thorns, while others could pass as small swords, but none look pleasant. A drone with a blade like a butcher's knife dives at cane, but it tumbles to the ground after jabbing him in the shoulder. It's a strange sight to behold, but strange as part of the job description. I snapped to attention and raise my gun, and then he does the same. Creed is still staring, his eyes darting back and forth, trying to decide on a target. Fire! I bellow at the top of my lungs.

More to snap Creed into action than anything else. I aim carefully and squeeze off a handful of shots. A couple of bullets go wide, colliding into trees and causing even more damage to the forest. But a few of the smaller drones around Kane's head go up in sparks. Creed breaks from his spell, steps forward, and raises his Uzi. His shots rattle in my ears as the spent cartridges are expelled from Creed's weapon. I don't like the cocky son of a bitch, probably because he's the worst kind of arrogant, the kind that actually does have some skill.

Creed is an artist with Azuzzi, laying down a steady arc of gunfire while I reload. A woman's screen stabs in my ears and crawls up my spine as I reload, but it's only no whack. She hasn't spent much time at the Foundation's firing range. I'll have to talk to Kane about that too, assuming we all survive long enough. After Creed empties his gun, Minnie steps forward. Her shotgun doesn't have the range as Creed or I, so she bides her time, waiting for Kane to rejoin us on the path. As a cloud of drones draws closer, Minnie squeezes the trigger once, and they all go down, ripped apart by her well-placed pellets. The sound is deafening, the constant gunfire clogging my ears.

Kane hoists Gus over his shoulder and retreats, barely slowed by the added weight. No-Wack chases after them. Minnie, Creed and I slip into a steady pattern as we walk backward after them. I empty my magazine into the drones, then fall back to reload and let Creed take my place. After he goes dry, Minnie steps up with her shotgun. Trusting Kane to get Gus and No-Wack to safety, I don't turn around until I feel the sun's rays on my back. Cadet Carter, Creed snaps to attention at my voice. Nice shooting back there!

It's a pain to admit, but the kid did good back there. He helped save Gus's life, despite hating his guts. Hopefully, the little praise will start the long work of softening Creed's rough edges. But the cocky grin on his face still gives me some doubts. Minnie interrupts my thoughts by sucking on her teeth. Shit! My hearing returns only to be barrage. by more noise.

Beneath the thunderous screams and barks is a constant mechanical buzzing. I didn't get a good look at the number of drones in the forest. There were too many to count, but there had to be dozens, maybe even hundreds. But the ones in the forest are just the tip of the iceberg. There are thousands in the park, swooping down and harassing families trying to take safety in their parked cars. Barks and whines sound in every direction as dogs flee, doing their best, to avoid the sharp tips of the machines. I'm glad I left a book at our hotel room.

The sight of a woman with blood running down her arms grabs my attention. She cradles a screaming toddler to her chest as she swats at the drones attacking them. They're too close for me to chance a shot, so I charge at her. Minnie and Creed are soon beside me, and the nearest drone shatters into a dozen pieces as Minnie swings her shotgun like a blow. She batters the machines aside like a modern-day barbarian. It scatters the drones, making them retreat to the sky. Several well-placed shots from Creed and myself take care of those.

Kane sets Gus down, then picks up the woman and child like they weigh no more than a paperclip. She screams, not realizing the danger has passed, but Kane doesn't react or slow down as we fall back. We saved the woman and her child, but our actions have drawn unwanted attention. Countless blue drone eyes turned toward us. I empty my clip and reload. I'm on my last one. How are you two doing? Not much better.

Creed switches his Oozie from full auto to semi-auto and aims carefully before taking another shot. Already out, Minnie says, but she takes a couple more practice swings with her empty gun. Shit! We're nowhere even close in dealing with these little bastards. Hopefully, the SC phones are doing the same thing they did for Gus and me. but on a grander scale, by relaying our situation to Director Ramirez so she can authorize some backup.

But unless they have some way of getting here in the next few seconds... I got it! Noak shouts, jumping up and down until she notices us all staring at her. Uh, sorry, but I've been fiddling with the SC phone since I got it. There are all kinds of apps that can be used in the field! Geiger counter, spectroscope, X-ray, infrared... Cadet Noak! Noak, Kane's voice is devoid of the annoyance I feel. Agents prefer concise and prompt information while in the field.

Oh, right. Noak turns your phone screen toward us. I've discovered a subsonic frequency that the drones use to communicate, and I think I've been able to isolate their attack signal. We huddle over the phone, but I can't make heads or tails of what Noak is showing us. There are figures, data, and stuff I haven't used since high school. A quick nod from Kane assures me his cadet is on the right track. Great work, nerd.

Creed empties the last of his magazine into some advancing drones. I was just thinking the one thing we need right now is more drones that want us dead. Hey, I'm doing my best here. We can't all shoot our way through life. Shut it, both of you. I snatch Noak's phone from her. Glad that's all it takes to silence the two. Kane, think you can work with this?

Kane nods and takes the phone. There may be blowback. I'd advise everyone to maintain their distance. Kane rushes away from us and thumbs the phone while, probably attempting to amplify the signal. The blue eyes of several passing drones flash, then spin away from the dogs they were harassing to chase Kane. One makes contact with his skin,

then bounces off and crashes to the ground. All over the park, other drones start to copy the others, turning from their prey to attack Kane. Shit! Creed squeezes the trigger, but all the Uzi does is click. You still got some ammo, Hale! Help him! I shake my head. It'd be a waste of bullets!

Creed sneers, his disgust palpable, and he turns and raises his Uzi to imitate Minnie's take on melee combat. Noak gasps and brings her hands to her mouth. A large drone with the barb as long as a katana dive bombs Kane. The needle bounces off Kane's head, and a mechanical scream echoes through the bowels. through the park as the drone is cleanly severed down the middle. Two smaller drones go for Kane's legs and attack him with metallic probes the size of sewing needles.

They spark and explode as soon as their tiny weapons pierce Kane's baggy sweatpants. The same scene repeats itself hundreds of times. The drones mob Kane, only to be torn apart as soon as they come in contact with his body. His clothes are ripped away, revealing a body more metal than flesh. Kane drops to his knees but endures. his knees but endures the unrelenting assault. As the last drone is finally destroyed, Cain topples over in a heap. No whack! My words seem loud in the silence washing over the park. Your background is in biochemical engineering, right? See if you can help Cain.

That's all the invitation she needs to sprint across the park. Crete, stares dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open at the pile of drones littered around Cain. What the hell was all that? Since Crete is proving to be, well, not less of a dick, but a dick who can follow orders. I answer him. It's another one of Kane's abilities. He can't be harmed by any outside force. Any attempts to injure him are reflected onto the aggressor. There's a limit to the power, though. It eats up his energy, and he already used a decent chunk in the forest before he saved our collective asses. Creed shakes his head. Does that sound like overkill to anyone else? As if an answer to Creed,

question, sirens blare through the air. The sirens are in the distance and moving away from us. Playing on a hunch, I take out my SC phone and tap into the local police feeds. These things are all over the place. Officer down, officer down. Still trying to get in touch with the National Guard. I sigh and look at Kane's prone form. I'm worried it's not going to be enough overkill. A loud groan pulls my attention away from Kane and to our other downed operative. Gus's hand has swelled further, but his eyes are alert. Just like I taught him, he takes in his surroundings quickly before resting on Kane and the pile of destroyed machines. Oh, hell! Gus flinches and cradles his hand to his chest.

What I miss? A long day. The police left us alone since they were busy with the invasion of their small town. That made getting Kane back to the hotel without being noticed easy. However, he took all of us pitching in, since Kane is considerably heavier than he looks, due to all the metal in his body. The swelling in Gus's hand went down, thanks to whatever NOWAC injected him with, but he still wasn't ready for the field. Thankfully, the kid listened to reason, and I didn't have to worry about him playing hero again. After that, Creed, Minnie and I hunted down the remnants of the local police department.

It'll still be hours before the Foundation Task Force is around. to contain this mess. This situation is well above the local PD's pay grade. However, the ammo shortage isn't an issue anymore, thanks to the local gun owners. Some of them were actually smiling, as if they've been waiting for a moment like this their entire lives. Unfortunately, another tidbit about the town is making things difficult.

They're one of the major manufacturers of aerial drones for the eastern seaboard, and whatever is powering the drones can see-board. the drones can spread from one model to the next. Thankfully, casualties have been minimal, but I can't help but feel our luxe about to run out. I fill my mug with coffee from the hotel lobby. It's our new command center until backup arrives. Minnie looks as exhausted as me, cradling book in her arms and petting him behind the ears in a comfortable-looking chair. Creed snores loudly in the chair to her right, but the chair on the left is vacant. I fill her a mug too, then sink into the other chair.

My long sigh is involuntary. I've been on my feet since the plane touched down. The chair is just as comfy as it looks. The coffee is perfect, but the tranquility breaks against Creed's tidal wave of a snore. Okay, I get what you see in the kid. He's good in a fight. But man, we've got to get him an apnea mask. Many makes a small, indistinct noise.

I chance a look at her from the corner of my eye, which is more than she's using to look at me. Book winds and buries his face into her stomach. We haven't said a word to each other that wasn't about tactics since I opened my big mouth. I doubt doing the same thing again will improve things, but I don't have any better ideas. Dollar for your thoughts?

She frowns. Isn't it supposed to be a penny? I value your thoughts a hundred times more than most. Her flicker of a smile gives me some hope. I've never told you about my dad, have I? The question is easy to answer with a shake of my head. I trust many more than anyone else, but neither of us have shared much about our families.

Our experience with the foundation makes us uneasy about sharing parts of our lives that make us vulnerable, Or that could potentially put our families in jeopardy. My blood still boils when I remember the society threatening my family. My dad was career military. I have lots of friends who were in the same boat, and they always talked about how distant and cold their parents were. Dad was never like that, though.

He was always affectionate and quick to say I love you to me and mom. I take another sip of coffee. Sounds like a hell of a guy. Many smile is forced and tired. Doesn't he? Mom and I were heartbroken when he didn't come back from a mission. So, when I turned 18, I enlisted in the Marines, just like him. As I got older, I got curious about my family's genealogy.

So I did one of those DNA tests and got a hint for a relative I didn't know about. And then another, and another. My stomach sinks. I think I know where this story is heading. Oh. Minnie's eyes stared down into her cup of black coffee. I've got over a dozen siblings that I never knew about. Some older, some younger, some he probably didn't know about.

Others. Others he played house with. Just like me and mom. Saying I love you was easy for my dad because lying was easy for him. And when you said, that to me, I know it was just an innocent comment. One of your quips because you read too many Spider-Man comics as a kid. I reach over and take Minnie's hand in my own.

She flinches at my touch but doesn't pull away. Two things you got wrong. One, I still read Spider-Man. And two, yeah, I've got terrible timing. But that doesn't make what I said any less true. I love you, Min. It's been a long time since I've said those words anyone. I've been a wrecking ball most of my life, demolishing someone's life to shambles

before moving on to the next story. Don't get me wrong. The people I investigated all had it coming. Mobsters, crooked politicians, corrupt police. But they're also the type of enemies that make it hard to develop a serious relationship. It's hard to invite someone into your life if it means putting them in the crosshairs. I never have to worry about that with many, who I know what always be right beside me in the trenches. Good. She grips my hand tight. Because I love you too.

I know the importance of this moment. Minnie's a modern-day warrior in every sense of the word. But she's laying herself bare to me. We lean in close, heat building between our lips as they graze against each other. Oh, oh my God! I'm so sorry! The high-pitched voice can't belong to anyone but no whack. I grumble in. and lean back, allowing Minnie and me enough room to look up. Gus and Noak are standing at the door,

each holding a tablet. Noak's skin has paled enough to make her look like a ghost, while Gus smirks knowingly. How's Kane? I asked to distract them, glad that Minnie is still holding my hand. Still down and recharging, Noak says. But I've completed an autopsy on the drone. Autopsy? I exchange an equally confused glance with many. Don't you mean a... Well, I guess I don't know the word.

Wait, do we do autopsies on machines too? Not usually. No wax shakes her head. But a number of its inner workings mimic the function of biological organs. The needles from their mouth inject an acidic compound into their prey. It dissolves them. Then, the drones ingest the biological slush left over. This powers their scyric.

circuitry, and I think it also plays a part in transmitting the virus into other drones. Wait, back up. Gus looks down at his bandaged hand. Please tell me I'm not minutes away from turning into a slushy for robots. They're drones, not... Noak! Oh, sorry. Noak blushes and clears her throat.

No, you should be fine, Cadet Huff. I administered countermeasures, and they appear to be working effectively. Next time, open with that. Gus frowns and hands me his tablet. That case we worked together last month gave me some ideas. I dug into the history of the local drone plant. It's a private business that went public last year. The board of directors voted out the company's founder shortly after that.

Oh, and the real kicker? His dog got ran over a few weeks back, coinciding with his family moving him to an old folks' home. Damn, Gus. I beam at him and pick up the tablet. Means, motive, and opportunity. Good work! Noak squirms and weeds her tablet between her fingers. Cadet Noak, go ahead and speak your mind.

Well, not to diminish Cadet Huff's finding, but I don't think he can be behind this. Or not entirely. As I said, there are biological components at work in these machines. I don't think anyone with a purely mechanical background could pull this off. That's not all I found, Gus smiles. I hacked into the retirement community. Wait, I hold up a hand, confused once more. Gus has proven he's a real asset in the field. He's got the making of a real investigator

and combat skills to throw down with the likes of Creed. But I've never seen him operate anything more complicated than a coffee pot. Hacking? You can do that? The SC phone can. Gus shrugs. It's one of the apps included with the phone. I'm blocked for most of its functions. But it had no problems shredding through the firewalls of a private company.

Of course it didn't. The foundation keeps the lights on by routinely invading other people's privacy. I take it you found something in their files? Yeah. Gus awkwardly clears his throat. I found someone you might recognize. It's not like Gus to play coy. Frowning, I swip to the second page of his tablet.

Gus has downloaded a list of names of all the residents and high. highlighted one. I can feel my eyes widen as I take in the name. Holy shit! I contacted Director Ramirez and gave her Gus and Noak's findings. It'll still be another hour before the foundation has boots on the ground, so we're on her own until then. Luckily, with a location to scout out, suspects, and a few more ammo donations, I think we can handle it. Famous last words, I know, but I don't know if the town can last another hour. We pull up to the retirement community in a tricked-out foundation SUV.

The air around the retirement center is thick with drones, and they converge on our SUV as soon as Minnie pulls into the parking lot. Blades flash through our headlights, but thankfully they bounce off the bulletproof glass. Glancing at the rearview mirror, I see Creed pump his fist. Yes, we get to fling some grenades! I sigh. This isn't a video game, Carter. Gus frowns.

You commandeered a tank the day we met. That was completely different. Wait! Noak pushes herself toward the front, probably to get as far away from Creed and his grenade lust as possible. Then taps on the windshield. Look! The blue lights on the drones flicker and then go out like someone flipped a switch.

They bounce off the trunk and hood, clattering like thunder around us as they drop. I count silently, starting over. Over every time I hear a new thud until I get to 30, then step outside. My legs are knee-deeped and deactivated drones, and I nudge them with my feet. No reaction. Looks like the coast is clear. Really?

Creed's excitement diminishes as he steps out of the SUV. Isuzi once more reloaded and held at the ready. That's pretty anticlimactic. Part of me wants to rebuke Creed. Too many of my experiences with the foundation have ended in bloodshed and destruction. I'll take a win wherever I can get one, but I'm pretty sure I know what happened. Even still, I unholster my gun and keep it close. Minnie and Creed shoulder their weapons.

Ben take point with me. Gus's gun hand is still bandaged with gauze, but he huddles close behind us. Noak seems content hovering near the van, examining the fallen machine. so I leave her to her business. The lobby of the retirement community is empty. The residents and faculty evacuated to the basement, hoping to ride it out. It makes the sounds of a scuffle even louder.

The four of us followed the noise to a nearby wreck room. Two older men are playing tug-of-war with a tablet. One is older than the other by at least 20 years. But the younger one is struggling, is limp and discarded cane putting him at a disadvantage. If this were a movie, I would fire a shot off in the air to get their attention, but I can't do that without risking, hitting someone's grandma. Instead, I holster my gun and let the slap fight continue for a few more seconds,

then loudly clear my throat. Gentlemen, the two-men freeze in place. My parents taught me to respect my elders, so I'm not going to hurt either of you. I hover near Creed and rest a hand on his shoulder. But this younger generation has no respect. Creed is barely out of his 20s, but he's tall, muscular, and mean-looking. He stares dumbfounded at me for a brief moment, but then catches on. He thumbs a button on his Uzi and activates its laser sight.

The red dot hovers on one man's forehead, then the other. They reach for the sky, the tablet shattering at their feet. Things go pretty smoothly after that. We keep the two men in custody. until our reinforcements arrive. It's going to take a lot of work to cover this one up. But it won't be too long before everything goes back to normal. People always find the simplest explanation as the easiest to swallow.

The town will never forget the day a retiree unleashed a horde of drones as vengeance for turning their back on him. In a few months, the talk of the strange blue eyes and weapons on the drones will be seen as an exaggeration brought on by the stress of a very strange day. a very strange day. As the company's founder is headed off into foundation custody, I linger with the other resident and lead him back to his room. While he's not young, he's at least ten years younger than anyone else staying here. He limps after me, leaning on his cane and follows me inside. The room has few decorations, especially compared to the others

we passed, except for the shelves. Each is lined with tiny carrying cages, nestled between mountains of biology books and yellowed paperbacks. I walk over to the electric kettle in the corner, fire it up, and prepare two mugs for tea. While I wait for the water to boil, I take a closer look at the cages. Each of them houses at least two snails. Going for a theme, huh, Johnny? He flinches. He's so much different from the last time I saw him. His face is still weathered with age and hard times. His shoulders still slumped with the weight of the world, but he's more timid, almost scared, as he hobbles to a nearby table and sits down. They, they're always in the garden, the snails, I mean, and I don't know why, but there's something familiar and comfortable

about them. Steam whistles through the kettle and kicks off automatically. I fill the two mugs, glance around and try to find cream or sugar. But remember, he always drank it straight. I sat down the mugs and take a seat across from him and wait for him to speak. Early on, said Alzheimer's, that's what they say I have. Only I blow on the scalding tea. Only it doesn't match what you know about the disease. You don't have random patches of memories missing,

and you don't drift in and out of lucidity. One day, you're 11-year-old. years old and getting ready for school. The next day, you wake up and you're 60. 61, he corrects me with a nervous smile. Or, so they tell me, 50 years of my life gone forever. My uncles have been dead for decades and I don't know who I was. But when I came across Melvin's experiment, I felt something familiar again, a way to improve on his designs. They don't expect people here to know how to work computers, so it was easy to access the dark web and order what I needed.

But you have to believe me. I didn't know what he was planning. I was just trying to find out who the hell I am. I didn't know what he was planning today, and then I found out. You tried to stop him. I smile and lean back. Because even without your memories, you're still you. You'll always try to do what you think is right.

He blinks and then stares at me. His expression falling as he searches his memories and finds nothing. You, you knew me. I nod once and reach for my phone. I did. I have something to show you. A twitch of guilt stabs at my heart as I activate the app Ramirez authorized. Johnny hesitates.

His hands trembling as he reaches for the phone. Images flash across the screen. His eyes start to flutter, and I wonder again if I'm doing the right thing. Maybe it would be kinder to leave him here, ignorant of the things he's done. But he deserves better than that. And clearly, we can't leave him out in the wild anymore.

He grunts and drops his phone, hands flying to the side of his head. He looks like the mother of all hangovers just forced itself between his ears without a drink. His expression hardens, but his eyes flicker with recognition. Hale? Director Griffith, welcome back to the Foundation. SCP-160 appears to be a quadru-flier, unmanned aerial vehicle

with a diameter of approximately 1.1 meters at its widest point. It is devoid of any identifying marks or manufacturing labels, though visual inspection of SCP-160 has revealed signs of scratches and other superficial damage, indicating that prior identifying labels may have been removed. SCP-160 operates continuously and completely autonomous from any identified control source, and exhibits behavior similar to that of predatory birds.

It will actively hunt prey such as rodents and other small animals, and, upon locating such prey, dive down at high speed, and impale its prey with what appears to be a metallic proboscis, Analysis of its prey shows that it then injects a highly caustic substance that liquefies the internal organs and extracts the resulting slurry. Injuries inflicted by SCP-160 are extremely painful and may cause death via liquefaction of vital organs or internal bleeding. The intact drone that was recovered no longer exhibits the ability to take over other drones, nor can it be controlled by a remote device as indicated by agents. who contained it. Possible interference by a competing organization is suspected, most likely the

Society for Liberation, Dissemination, and Destruction.