“I will secure the asset,” O5-6 Twilight spoke up, his sharp voice slicing through the revulsion of the others.
His rigid silhouette leaned back, a professional indifference radiating from his posture.
“I am currently living in Germany for extended work. Traveling to Berlin and extracting a primitive blade from a public market will pose no logistical difficulty.”
“Acknowledged, O5-6,” Yuki said, nodding toward the spy’s shadow.
“The mission is yours. Just remember, as an O5 council member, you are fully authorized to utilize the properties of the anomalies under our control if a crisis demands it. However, under no circumstances are you to let that blade fall into anyone else’s hands.”
With Germany handled, Yuki tapped the second yellow beacon.
The digital globe rotated smoothly down toward North Africa, locking onto a modern city center.
“Hamleys Toy Shop, New Cairo 1, Egypt,” Yuki read from the interface.
“Target: SCP-2295, officially designated as ‘The Bear with a Heart of Patchwork.’ Status: An anomalous fabric entity has been spotted openly sitting on a display shelf in a civilian commercial zone. We need to secure it before a child buys it.”
Before anyone could complain about hunting for stuffed toys, Yuki quickly brought up the core file description given with the mission.
“SCP-2295 is an autonomous, sentient teddy bear made of patchwork fabric. It is a highly beneficial anomaly that possesses the ability to completely heal individuals suffering from severe, life-threatening organ damage. When it comes within two meters of a human in major physical trauma, it falls into a state of focus, magically produces sterile medical tools from its mouth, and begins sewing a perfect replica of the failing organ out of any nearby fabric or cloth. Once finished, it anomalously swaps the fabric organ into the patient’s body, completely removing the damaged biological organ, and saves their life.”
A sudden, sharp thud rattled the table as O5-9 The Pharmacologist slammed his hands onto the stone, his silhouette practically vibrating with an overwhelming academic frenzy.
“A fabric replica?!” O5-9 gasped out, his voice cracking with pure disbelief.
“You are claiming that a heart or a lung made of literal cloth can perfectly replicate the complex, microscopic cellular functions, blood-filtration, and cardiovascular pressures of human biology without causing immediate necrosis or systemic shock?! How is that metabolically possible?!”
“It isn’t. Not by modern medical standards,” Yuki answered flatly, meeting his frantic gaze.
“The fabric organ functions perfectly like a normal organ, but there is absolutely no science behind it. It is a pure violation of natural biology. If you are really that desperate to study its properties, you are more than welcome to retrieve it yourself, 05-9.”
The silhouette of O5-9 stiffened, letting out a deeply frustrated, bitter groan as he sank back into his leather chair.
“I can’t,” he muttered, his voice tight with immense reluctance.
“I am currently bound to an intensive research cycle inside a high-security pharmaceutical lab in America. The logistics of an immediate transcontinental flight to Egypt are impossible for me right now.”
Yuki waited, his eyes scanning the remaining dark silhouettes as the seconds ticked away.
He glanced subtly at his internal clock, feeling the pressure of the real-world morning creeping closer.
“I’ll take the teddy bear,” O5-4 Young Monster volunteered carelessly.
She leaned back, spinning a dark pen that she got from who knows where between her fingers with a low chuckle.
“Egypt is right next door to my current location in the Gaza Strip. Moving an armored transport across the border to pick up a stuffed toy will be a hilarious break from my usual contracts. Consider it handled, boss.”
And finally, Yuki swiped his hand across the mini console, highlighting the final, aggressively flashing red beacon.
The digital globe spun violently backward, zooming in until the entire display was consumed by the sprawling metropolis of central Japan.
“Tokyo, Japan,” Yuki read, his voice dropping into a stern, command-oriented register.
“Target: SCP-127-SL. Status: A weaponized anomaly has been identified in active use during a localized underworld syndicate conflict. Containment protocols must be dispatched immediately.”
He flicked his wrist, pulling up the technical file to let the data cascade down the main holographic screen for the entire council to see.
“SCP-127 is a sentient, biological firearm that physically resembles an MP5 submachine gun. However, it does not use standard mechanical components or brass ammunition. Instead, it features infinite ammunition courtesy of an internally regenerating magazine made entirely of human-like teeth. Furthermore, the weapon features an active evolution metric. It grows significantly stronger across three distinct tiers every time the user utilizes it to successfully terminate a human being.”
A heavy, chilling tension settled over the tridecagon layout as a live surveillance playback window expanded over the map.
The video footage showed a chaotic, dimly lit convenience store during an armed robbery.
A panicked criminal was seen holding an MP5 firearm, spraying automatic fire across the counter.
Fortunately, the panicked shooter’s aim was terrible; the shopkeeper and a bystander were severely injured but survived the encounter.
“A follow-up ballistic report from local law enforcement has already flagged the bullets pulled from the walls as calcified human teeth,” Yuki stated, his eyes turning sharply toward the left flank.
“O5-3. I need the Best Hacker to completely scrub the internet. Wipe the police forensic database, delete the store’s cloud backups, and eliminate any online mention of this ballistic report before the information spreads to the public.”
“Hmph, consider it done,” O5-3 scoffed, her small silhouette slouching back with an arrogant, casual shrug.
“Scrubbing a local police server takes less effort than making a cup of instant ramen. I’ll have the internet completely gaslighted before the media can even draft a headline.”
Yuki nodded, turning back to the glowing red beacon on the map.
“The data control is handled. Now, we need boots on the ground to hunt down the suspect, secure the firearm, and administer Class A amnesiacs to the witnesses. Tokyo is a big place. Who is capable of taking this?”
The question hung heavily over the table.
A dense, profound silence stretched out for a long ten seconds.
The sheer lethality of a biological, evolving firearm on the loose was a massive step up from a lucky penny or a teddy bear.
Suddenly, a heavy, unshakeable voice broke the deadlock.
“I will handle it,” O5-12 The Legendary Hitman stated simply.
His massive, broad-shouldered silhouette remained perfectly still, but the casual, absolute gravity vibrating from his form made it clear that hunting an armed syndicate criminal in the streets of Tokyo was nothing more than a Tuesday afternoon routine for him.
“An underworld conflict in my own backyard is easy enough to clean up. I’ll retrieve the weapon.”
“Excellent,” Yuki said, a wave of profound relief washing over him as he finalized the ledger on the holographic console.
He stood up from the massive O5-1 leather chair, looking across the fully operational, unified 0-5 council.
“All five missions are officially assigned. Use your newly upgraded cellphones to coordinate your deployments and log your containment files. The first assembly is adjourned.”
“We don’t need to pull everyone into this chamber every single time a problem arises,” Yuki added, pausing as he stood before the head of the table.
“You can all communicate seamlessly through the custom secure forum built into your upgraded mobile applications.”
He paused, thinking for a brief moment about his own grueling high school schedule, his part-time chores, and the absolute disaster it would be if his consciousness suddenly drifted away during a mid-term exam.
“To prevent anyone from losing control of their physical bodies in the outside world, we will establish a fixed schedule for our formal assemblies,” Yuki announced, his tone firm.
“We will convene here exactly every Sunday at midnight. Clear your schedules accordingly.”
A ripple of approving nods ran down both sides of the long tridecagon layout, the members universally agreeing to the structured boundary.
“As for returning to your physical vessels,” Yuki concluded, gesturing smoothly toward the impenetrable white mist, “you don’t need a portal or a button. You just need to firmly will your consciousness to go back, and the link will automatically-”
Fwump.
Before he could even finish his sentence, the slender silhouette of O5-10 The Savant Painter vanished into thin air.
Her heavy leather chair instantly emptied, the glowing white text above her head dissolving into faint light particles.
The remaining eleven council members turned their shrouded heads in unison, staring blankly at the vacant seat in surprise.
Yuki let out an awkward, scratchy laugh, scratching the back of his neck beneath his unreadable mask.
“Uh… yeah. Just like that. Well, it was nice meeting you all. Good luck with your assignments.”
With a single, focused thought of his bedroom in Gifu Prefecture, Yuki willed himself to leave.
Instantly, the grand, 05 council chamber, the glowing global map, and the silent shadow empire shattered into a brilliant flash of white, pulling his soul right back down to Earth.
***
With O5-1 The Reincarnator gone, the remaining members of the council didn’t immediately follow him out.
The eleven dark silhouettes sat in the heavy silence for a moment, their hidden eyes locking onto one another across the dark tridecagon table.
Breaking the stalemate, O5-13 The God of Wisdom leaned forward, resting her chin on the handle of her cane as she asked, “Well, everyone? How do we feel about all of this?”
He slammed his newly branded left palm onto the obsidian table.
“A random room in the fog, a forced tattoo, and a bedtime story about fairy-tale monsters? Without some real, empirical verification from the outside world, I refuse to believe a single word of it! I’m going back to my lab.”
“A logical stance,” O5-6 Twilight chimed in, his voice tight, disciplined, and thoroughly controlled.
He adjusted his posture, his hidden eyes narrowing.
“I will inspect the market coordinates provided for Berlin. I intend to see if this ‘SCP’ is actually sitting in the open, and confirm its anomalous properties for myself. If it is a fabrication, this organization will be dealt with.”
Without another word, his rigid silhouette smoothly faded out of existence.
“Ooh, sounds like everyone is a skeptic,” O5-3 Best Hacker drawled, slouching lazily back in her seat.
A sharp, arrogant smirk practically radiated through her shadow.
“As for me, I’m going to go surf the net for real answers. I’ll check out this custom application on my phone and see if there’s a secure forum we can actually use. Oh… and I also really want to test that memory erasure something on someone back home… hehehe…”
Her high-pitched, mischievous giggling echoed off the impenetrable gray fog for a fraction of a second before her tiny silhouette completely disappeared from the table.
Following her lead, O5-4 Young Monster and O5-5 The Compulsive Gambler exchanged a final, knowing chuckle before waving their goodbyes.
Their two slender silhouettes dissolved into light particles simultaneously, eager to hunt down their respective targets.
Within seconds, a rapid chain reaction followed.
The rigid, aristocratic form of O5-8 The Ice Queen vanished with a cold hmph, accompanied by the frantic, obsessed posture of O5-9 The Pharmacologist.
The serene, timeless presence of O5-11 The Immortal Bride and the heavy, immovable frame of O5-12 The Legendary Hitman faded away into the mist right after, leaving their grand leather chairs entirely vacant.
The two remaining shadows looked at each other across the empty geometric rim, the impenetrable wall of white fog lazily churning behind them as they prepared to return to their own bodies.
O5-13 broke the final silence by saying, “I feel that your mission might be more dangerous than we know it.”
O5-7 Little President paused, her poised silhouette turning slightly toward the end of the table.
“Why do you say that?” she asked, her refined voice carrying a genuine note of curiosity.
“Because the unknown is always the most unpredictable,” O5-13: The God of Wisdom answered smoothly, her shadowy hand resting heavily on her phantom cane.
“We don’t know what you may encounter out there in that park. Bending reality isn’t like dealing with a rogue spy or a physical weapon. So, I am giving you my blessing. Good luck, Little President.”
Before O5-7 could even offer her thanks, the small silhouette of the God of Wisdom vanished into thin air, leaving her leather chair completely vacant.
The massive, thirteen-sided table was left completely empty save for the single, solitary form of O5-7.
She sat in the absolute silence for a long moment, deeply contemplating the chilling, cryptic warning left behind by the God of Wisdom.
The realization that she was walking blindly into a localized distortion of existence itself weighed heavily on her shoulders.
Taking a steadying breath, she adjusted her posture one last time and firmly willed herself to return.
Instantly, her silhouette shattered into brilliant white light particles, leaving the grand tridecagon table anchored in the endless, silent fog.
***
Author’s note:
Aaaannnnd that’s the end of the 1st assembly…
Now we get to the fun part!…
CONTAINMENT…
hehe!…