You have been invited to the 3rd Annual Unbirthday Ball on behalf of Mads Wondertainment, His Royal Majesty, the Sanest King.
PoufyPoufson, PeppersGhost, and daveyoufool
SCP-8981 - The Wonder War by PoufyPoufson, PeppersGhost, and daveyoufool
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3/8981 LEVEL 3/8981
CLASSIFIED
Item #: SCP-8981
Thaumiel
Special Containment Procedures: Due to public conception of SCP-8981 as fictional, disinformation is unnecessary. Containment efforts primarily focus on identifying and containing Access Points and minimizing unauthorized entry. As of writing, 119 points of access have been identified, with 45 being successfully contained. The remaining Access Points are under the jurisdiction of GoI-386 "Dr. Wondertainment" via "Wonder Bros Inc.", its parent company. As of 17/01/2018, GoI-386 is considered a hostile combatant of the Foundation; use of lethal force is authorized against company liaisons engaged in anti-containment activities.
Individuals assigned to MTF Lamba-484 ["Somnologists"] must be screened and assessed for a Sandburg Professionalism Score of no greater than 5. All activity conducted within SCP-8981 must abide by local laws, regulations, and decrees to ensure continued diplomatic relations with SCP-8981-A and its cooperation with containment.
SCP-8981 (artist's rendition)
Description
SCP-8981 is a variable intangible surreality.
The environment within SCP-8981 is highly anomalous, with ontokinesis, thaumaturgy, and paramemetics normalized in society and nature to some extent. SCP-8981 has an extensive record of political upheaval and tumultuous regime change, the most recent of which occurred upon SCP-8981-A's coronation.
SCP-8981 is populated by various human, humanoid, and nonhuman organisms, with a rich and diverse history and conglomeration of cultures. Societies within SCP-8981 primarily orient around hereditary monarchies with sporadic dynastic continuity or localized oligarchic rule. The authority of these monarchies have typically been both highly centralized and localized, with polities outside the immediate vicinity of the ruling city or Burroughs generally existing as independent, quasi-anarchistic entities.
There do not seem to be any significant nationalistic tendencies among the inhabitants of SCP-8981, and polities are generally multicultural and multi-species in demographics. SCP-8981-A is believed to have taken power as regnant within the largest polity in SCP-8981, which was previously ruled by a highly authoritarian and punitive monarchy. Following the demise of the ruling dynasty, the region entered a period of decline before descending into an ungoverned state. It was at this point SCP-8981-A arrived in the region, and utilized diplomatic and thaumaturgic force to ascend to the throne.
The economy of SCP-8981's polities is generally reliant on agricultural & manufacturing industries, with the latter being of particular importance to SCP-8981-A's domain. In addition, a significantly developed resource extraction sector exists within SCP-8981-A's domain, oriented around the extraction of a liquid mineral oil found within SCP-8981's crust that appears to augment ontokinetic and thaumaturgic effects. This resource extraction sector forms the basis for economic and diplomatic relations between SCP-8981 and Wonder Bros Inc.
SCP-8981 developed an extraveil cultural presence as the subject of Lewis Carroll's novels Alice In Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass, though it is popularly believed to be a fictional setting. Carroll's fictionalization is theorized to have stemmed from visitation, however this remains unconfirmed. Information recovered from within SCP-8981 has remained inconclusive.
SCP-8981-A is the current reigning monarch of SCP-8981 and primary legislative, economic, and cultural authority. It is believed that SCP-8981-A previously resided in baseline reality under the identity "Dr. Wondertainment" (PoI-386).
Discovery
The Foundation was unaware of SCP-8981's existence until written invitations to "The Sanest King's 3rd Annual Unbirthday Ball" were received by all Foundation facilities, delivered by unknown means, and emblazoned with the Wondertainment executive seal. A priority investigation was immediately ordered, as the Wondertainment executive seal had been believed to be known only to researchers with privileged knowledge, as well as the fact that invitations were distributed to classified facilities with clearance restrictions up to and including Cosmic Top Secret.
To Whom it May and Mayn't Concern:
Salutations! On behalf of Dr. Wondertainment, inc., I, [TRUNCATED], would like to take this opportunity to humbly* extend an invitation to the Sanest King's 3rd Annual Unbirthday Ball.
There will be drinking, dancing, music, six DJs**, food or, a bucket into which you may place rectangles for enrichment, and complimentary strangers for screamings-at.
The Ball will be held whenever all interested parties think about it at the same time.
Your presence would turn the Ball from a Monumental Occasion to a Monumental Occasion With You Inside Of It, which is preferable for our word count.
RSVP:
☐ Yes, I am coming!
☐ No, I only celebrate birthdays that don't come with a negative prefix.
☐ Seventeen Marbles.*(If you would rather be cruelly and forcibly dragged there against your will rather than humbly invited, please clearly indicate your preference in your RSVP by checking "Seventeen Marbles.")
**(Dead Jackdaws provided courtesy of Our Lady of Malta Bird Carcass Wholesale International, LLC)
The back of the invitational postcard bore an address for an abandoned industrial facility near Glasgow, Scotland. Mobile Task Force Delta-51 ["Glowing Pains"] was assigned to investigate the building, verify the existence of an extranormal event, and determine the motivations behind the invitation.
Upon arriving at the supposed event venue, Delta-51 reported that the entirety of the facility's floor had been replaced by a sheer vertical drop with no visible end, the perimeter of which was shaped precisely to the building's floorplan. After multiple failed attempts to pilot reconnaissance drones into the pit, approval was given to allow two members of Delta-51 to investigate directly. Due to the mechanical and electronic issues experienced with the drone flights, video recording was substituted for remote perception relay via Argos Protocol.
▼ HIDE LOG
ARGOS LOG
Transcript generated through the use of cognitive relay.
Language and events described may be influenced by subjective cognition.
[ BEGIN LOG ]
[ Kafoa approaches the facility's main entry point. The door is already open. The pit is visible through the open doorway, beginning precisely along the threshold. Paint and wall decorations are still present along the walls, though heavily worn with age. At the point where the walls would be expected to terminate along the baseboards, they instead extend downward with uninterrupted brickwork. The facility's lights are on, illuminating roughly 20 meters of wall along the perimeter of the pit. ]
[ Hodge follows behind Kafoa, peering over her shoulder. ]
HODGE: That definitely looks bottomless.
KAFOA: Nah. There's a bottom. And I bet you fifty there's a meat grinder waiting for us at the end of it.
HODGE: You know there's no version of that bet that ends with you getting money, right?
COMMAND RADIO: We have reason to believe the invitation was a genuine missive from Wondertainment himself. Traps aren't his MO.
HODGE: I thought Wondertainment was more than one guy?
KAFOA: Come on, Hodge. They're not going to send a a Class-D to meet Wondertainment face-to-face, and they're not going to send a diplomat into an anomalous pit. This is what we signed up for.
HODGE: Don't get me wrong, now. I'll jump in a death hole any day of the week. I just want to know who whose party we're attending.
COMMAND RADIO: It's an old one. Can't say for sure if there's an original Wondertainment, but if there is, this could be him.
KAFOA: Lucky us. Let's go make history, then.
[ Kafoa and Hodge don their harnesses, which are then hooked up to a winch and pulley system that personnel have secured to underlying architecture above the lobby ceiling. Delta-51 agents perform final safety checks on harnesses, cables, and fasteners. ]
KAFOA: We clear?
COMMAND RADIO: You're clear. Enjoy the ball.
[ Kafoa and Hodge, harnesses fastened together, push off from the threshold. Once their momentum has settled, Kafoa gives a thumbs up and the ground team begins lowering the two into the pit. ]
COMMAND RADIO: Thirty seconds until the radio stops working. Remember, you can still talk to us via Argos. Just say the word and we'll bring you up. Over.
KAFOA: Copy.
[ The two descend beyond the illuminated depth and activate their headlamps. The walls can be seen to be bare brickwork as far down as their light reaches. ]
HODGE: The bricks aren't laid perfectly straight. Globs of mortar here and there. Looks done by hand.
KAFOA: You think someone actually built this?
HODGE: Might be meant to look that way, at least.
[ Kafoa notices a glint of light reflected off the wall several meters beneath them. It's a golden frame. ]
KAFOA: There's a painting down there. Hard to make out the detail from this angle. Landscape? Hold on. I think there's a house—
[ The painting rushes up out of view as Kafoa and Hodge enter free fall. They scream. ]
HODGE: The line! The line!
[ EDITOR'S NOTE: Delta-51 winch operators detected no change in speed or tension during this time. ]
KAFOA: It can't be! There were redundancies!
[ More wall decorations blur past Kafoa and Hodge's field of vision, but their fall is too quick to focus on them. ]
HODGE: Any idea what the terminal velocity for a human being is?
KAFOA: Two humans. Well over a hundred kilometers an hour. Maybe two.
HODGE: We've been falling for about two minutes. One hour divided by—
KAFOA: About three kilometers per minute, give or take.
HODGE: The line still feels taut. They said the winch could handle up to four thousand meters, so even if it failed, it would have maxed out by now.
KAFOA: Think it's possible we're not really falling? Perception anomaly?
HODGE: No way of knowing, but it feels real to me!
[ EDITOR'S NOTE: Delta-51 winch operators continued to see no change in speed or tension for the following half hour. When the maximum length of 4km was fully extended, Kafoa and Hodge still perceived themselves in free fall, per Argos. ]
KAFOA: Ten minutes by my watch.
HODGE: I think we might be in this for the long haul.
KAFOA: Headlamps are still operational, so not all electronics are affected. Let's turn them off to conserve battery. No telling how long we'll be here.
HODGE: Good idea. Now what?
KAFOA: Always enjoyed Twenty Questions.
HODGE: Animal, vegetable, or mineral?
[ Extraneous conversation redacted. ]
HODGE: One hour. That would put us, what? Somewhere in the upper mantle?
KAFOA: Sounds right. Is the person you're thinking of an entertainer?
[ Extraneous conversation redacted. ]
KAFOA: Two hours.
[ Extraneous conversation redacted. ]
KAFOA: Four hours. I'm going to try to get a nap in. Getting used to the wind.
HODGE: You're a psychopath if you can fall asleep like this. It's like those falling dreams that wake you up right when you're almost asleep, except you never hit the bottom.
KAFOA: I don't have those.
HODGE: Like I said. Psychopath.
[ Intermittent periods of silence and conversation follow as the two continue to fall. ]
KAFOA: I can't wrap my head around that kind of thing, you know? Like, you're her son.
HODGE: Don't matter to her. Why should it matter to me?
KAFOA: I'm not saying you have to like her. I mean, my—
[ They scream as they land. The surface is soft and rough. ]
HODGE: Hell of a jump scare.
KAFOA: Hey, we're alive.
[ The two come to their feet, though with some difficulty due to the instability of the soft surface beneath them. They unfasten their harnesses and activate their headlamps. Kafoa and Hodge find themselves standing on a massive pile of pink fiberglass insulation, at least four stories tall. The skin on their faces is irritated from contact during landing, but they are otherwise unharmed. The ground beneath the pile is dark and inscrutable. It extends in all directions as far as their light travels. The walls are no longer visible. ]
HODGE: Looks like a void.
KAFOA: This your first void?
HODGE: Yeah. Always wanted to see a void.
KAFOA: Hope it's everything you dreamed of.
HODGE: And more.
[ The two make their way down from the pile of insulation, falling occasionally, causing further irritation to their faces. As they approach the bottom, Kafoa abruptly holds up a hand. ]
KAFOA: I hear something coming.
[ An indistinct humanoid figure emerges from the darkness, seeming to shimmer in the light of the agents' headlamps. As the figure draws closer, it become possible to discern that its body is made of a mass of smaller objects that constantly shift and move, some traveling along the surface and some folding in or out of the central mass. The objects are mostly paper bills and coins in unrecognized demoninations, as well as precious stones and metals, and occasionally semi-physical manifestations of raw numerical data. ]
UNKNOWN: Hurry! Hurry! You're going to be late!
[ The voice is deep, rich, and shiny. The figure runs to Kafoa. ]
UNKNOWN: I've been looking everywhere for you!
HODGE: Know the guy?
KAFOA: No.
UNKNOWN: You may not know me by name, but who do you think sent out those lovely and flamboyant stationary invitations? You are here for the ball, yes?
KAFOA: You're the Dr. Wondertainment?
[ The figure lets out a contextually exaggerated laugh. ]
UKNOWN: No, no. I am Mads' trustiest of friends. An advisor: Taxes. You may have heard of me—I am of the utmost importance, you know! And I put together this whole thing! Well, it's his party and planning, but I've always managed the little things that really make it gel! Yes, I'm really the glue that holds everything together.
HODGE: My first void and my first anthropomorhisation of a concept. This really is my lucky day.
KAFOA: Taxes, eh? Can't say I'm a fan of your previous work.
[ The objects comprising Taxes' face arrange in dismayed look briefly before scattering as he shakes his head. ]
TAXES: Previous? That's fine. All in the past. That just means you're going to absolutely adore this party, yes? Perfect!
KAFOA: I don't think we have time for a full party. We're here to speak to Dr. Wondertainment. If you're not him, we'd appreciate it if you took us to him.
TAXES: Well, you're just full of bother! Wrinkles spoil a youthful complexion, you know, and bother like that wrinkles your face! No, he's not fond of bothers and sternities.
[ Taxes produces a measuring tape and a pincushion from thin air. Hodges appears confused, but Kafoa remains stoic in her expression. The three are the only visible features within the void, save for the pile of insulation they had landed in. ]
TAXES: Let me measure your waist, miss—er, what was it?
KAFOA: Is this really the best use of our—
HODGE: Just call her Cage. And you can call me Faraday.
TAXES: Cage and Faraday? Frightful names, but I can work with that.
KAFOA: What? Why—
HODGE: You need to relax. Our friend here might be logomorphic. Besides, why not play along? We're getting ready for a party. It's not that serious.
TAXES: That's the spirit, Faraday! He'll like you! Alright now, where was I? Measurements? Right, yes. Miss Cage, I'm going to need to measure your bust.
KAFOA: No fu— No, thank you. I'll go to the ball as-is, or a suit if I have to.
HODGE: I've got my sizes already. A 40/34 and a 40/36, if you don't mind. Gray or Navy Blue.
TAXES: Navy Blue? We don't have any fur or feathers in that… what about Prussian Blue, or perhaps spoonbill? Keep in mind this is going on a collar-frill as well!
KAFOA: You want us to wear feathers?
HODGE: I do believe that's what our new acquaintance implied. I've never worn anything more than a suit from Burlington's or Macy's… why not?
[ Somewhere out the dark of the void, not quite near but not quite far, a patch of dark grows darker than the rest of it. ]
UNKNOWN: LET THE GAL BE GRAY, TAXES.
[ Taxes appears troubled by the words of the shrouded figure, a deep crease forming in the shapes that form his brows. Kafoa and Hodge glance at each other, unsure of how to proceed. ]
TAXES: Fine, fine. So be it. But they can't say I didn't try! Some people wouldn't know fashion if it clobbered them in the colon!
UKNOWN: IF ONLY IT WERE CLOBBERING YOU AS WE SPEAK.
KAFOA: And who exactly are you?
[ The dark shape and Taxes stare at Kafoa dully. ]
UNKNOWN: IS IT NOT OBVIOUS?
TAXES: That would be DEATH, as it were. Quite a cheery one, that.
[ Kafoa and Hodge exchange uneasy glances. ]
TAXES: Oh! No need for alarm. He's not here for you—probably. Just an old friend of the host.
KAFOA: Right. So, about this ball, or whatever, when exactly do we get to speak to Dr—
TAXES: "This ball"!? Please, please show more respect to the delightful debauchericious designs of the Sanest King. The Doctor, as you may know him, does not arrange these festivities lightly! You'd best fix your tone, lest he find out—
DEATH: HE WILL FIND OUT.
[ Color drains from Taxes' physioconceptual visage for a brief moment, a sickly worry coming over his thing-face before quickly resuming composure. ]
TAXES: Yes, yes, DEATH put it quite, ehm, succinctly. Though hopefully not prophetically.
KAFOA: I apologize. My colleague here is more versed in things… of your nature. I tend to deal more in the concrete.
HODGE: Hey, if it smooths things over, put me in a feather boa. I always loved The Birdcage.
TAXES: Birdcages, you say? Mr. Mickey should have a ball dressing you.
[ Hodge chuckles. ]
HODGE: Mr. Mickey? And what, he's a giant mouse then, to boot?
DEATH: THE HATTER TAKES COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT DEATHLY SERIOUSLY.
TAXES: Quite! Intellectual property is no laughing matter, indeed… well! That's enough glum! Since you two seem to have hit it off, DEATH can entertain Ms. Cage whilst I shall escort Mr. Faraday to Mr. Mickey, our—ahem—Most Preferred Royal Haberdasher, and get him fitted in his veritable "Birdcage" concoction. Hah, the King will love this! He loves birdcages!
[ Taxes puts out his hand to Hodge, inviting him to take it. ]
KAFOA: I don't think it's the best idea to split.
HODGE: You'll be fine. Just try to play nice.
KAFOA: That's not what I'm worried about.
TAXES: As much as I'd like to stay in my lane here, as an uninvested, secular bystander… I do have to take dear Mr. Faraday here to be fitted. You could have come with, of course, but you seem intent on maintaining your drab, brutish attire. Sorry! Not Sorry! Okay then. One, two, off to the loo!
[ Taxes guides Hodge by the hand and the two wander off into the void towards a faint, distant outline of glowing light. Kafoa presumes it to be some sort of door or entryway. The shrouded figure, Death as it were, remains near Kafoa, watching idly as Hodge and Taxes disappear into the murky distance. Death turns to Kafoa. ]
DEATH: THIS PLACE IS NOT FOR YOUR ILK. WHY ARE YOU HERE?
KAFOA: On business. Official business. Our organization-
DEATH: THE FOUNDATION.
KAFOA: So you know us, then?
DEATH: YES. YOUR ILK HAVE ROBBED ME OF MANY A FAT COMMISSION. FAIR PLAY, YOU'VE DONE YOUR PART TO KEEP THINGS EVEN. BUT I KNOW MORE THAN JUST YOUR EMPLOYER.
[ The cloud of darkness that enshrouds DEATH parts somewhat. The faint outline of of a weathered human skull stares out at Kafoa through empty eyes. ]
DEATH: I KNOW YOU, LEONA KAFOA. YOUR FRIEND WAS WISE TO BE CAREFUL, THOUGH SUCH PRECAUTIONS ARE NOT NECESSARY HERE. AFTER ALL, I KNOW EVERYONE. IT'S MY JOB. HOWEVER, I DON'T SO MUCH KEEP UP WITH THE COMINGS-AND-GOINGS, SO TELL ME: WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE?
[ Kafoa feels a coldness in her veins. There's a terrible familiarity to the sensation. She's felt this way before, and she had hoped to never feel it again— yet, despite it all, she stands steady. ]
KAFOA: We were invited here as guests of Dr. Wondertainment for reasons as-of-yet unknown. To be clear, he didn't invite the two of us specifically; he basically invited the Foundation at large, and somehow we ended up receiving the honor of being its representives. I'm pretty intent on getting to that conversation with 'The Sanest King', if you'd like to be more helpful than the walking pile of cash. You seem more down-to-earth, no burial jokes intended.
DEATH: THE FOUNDATION WAS INVITED? THE BROTHERS MUST NOT BE TERRIBLY FAR BEHIND YOU THEN…
KAFOA: The Brothers? The facility was practically abandoned when we got there. Dr. Wondertainment seems keen on visitors.
DEATH: NO, HE WANTS GUNPOWER. ARE YOU THAT DENSE?
KAFOA: I'm just not one for speaking in riddles. I think this conversation is best delivered from the King's lips to my ears directly. Are you taking me to the ballroom?
DEATH: I DEAL IN DEATH, NOT DIPLOMACY.
KAFOA: So what am I supposed to do, then?
[ DEATH points off into the distance where Hodge and Taxes had wandered off to, where the faint glow had been emanating from. ]
DEATH: FIGURE IT OUT.
[ DEATH quickly vanishes, flowing into the deep black void like a viscous liquid. Kafoa is alone. ]
KAFOA: ¡Que mierda!
[ Kafoa begins wading through the slick not-a-floor of the void, navigating the total featurelessness as best as her body knows how. It evokes in her a sense of oscillating nausea, teetering through, or at least feeling as though she is teetering through, with the only frame of reference being the ever-so-faint glow far ahead. ]
KAFOA: I should've just gone with Hodge and worn a damn dress or something. I feel like I'm gonna be—
[ Kafoa wretches, throwing up watery bile from an empty stomach. She realizes she hasn't eaten since leaving base camp. She thinks of how she's been stuck on cinnamon oatmeal and hasn't had room for anything else, save for the odd NutriPill. The vomit splats down onto the dark void, appearing flatly lit and strangely static. In an odd way, it ameliorates her nausea perfectly, not just for satisfaction of satiating her body's instincts, but also for the frame of reference the messy spatter provides for her uneasy eye. She catches herself wishing she had eaten more before coming, if only to have more substance to paint the endless black with. A quaint, charming sentiment, no doubt. ]
[ As the glow begins to grow larger, her proximity to the gate closer, she begins to hear noises, faintly at first and then louder— not as if closing a distance, but as if the sounds had been around her all this time and she was only now starting to hear them. Razor-sharp humming of harpsichords, clattering of plates and clinks of silverware, the low roar of an ocean of conversation—all the makings of a ball, and surely the one to which she had been invited. The bright light only grow and grow as she wobbles onward. ]
KAFOA: I'm never going down a void again, Christ as my witness.
[ Kafoa reaches the gate, now clarified and crystalized as a solid glass door. It is frosted elegantly in floral patterns, but through the murky glasswork, Kafoa can make out flourishes of gold, green, red and blue; figures moving, dancing, figures seated, making all manners of sounds and gaieties. She places her palms against the door, pushing it open, and she stumbles in unceremoniously. ]
[ Kafoa is greeted by a vivacious scene of diners and dukes and drunkards and debauchees, each and every one dressed in immaculate and incredulous getups of feathers, silks, jewels, and elaborate accoutrements. Guests of all shapes and sizes and species dance upon a central floor adorned with a patchwork moasaic of tiles and patternwork of all manners of traditions, from Arabesque to Cantonese, Pomeranian to Madagascan, Chennai Madras to Tricotage Peruvienne. ]
CAT IN SPATS: And I said to her, I said, I tell you— I said to her, 'a bird can fly, but a fly—'
HUMAN-SIZED FLY IN DUNGAREES: A fly can't bird. Yeah. You stay here, I'm gonna get another drink.
[ Polymorphous banquet tables cluster around the corners and walls, set with hundreds of plates and chalices and bowls and goblets and various other instruments of the well-fed bourgeoisie. Dispersed throughout the tables are large pipe machinations, each a bundle of pastel-colored translucent tubes. Partiers gather at these constructions, taking one of the many reed-tipped hoses that spilled from the central terminus of the main pipes and imbibing the intoxicating fumes of whatever variety of inebriate each pipe supplies: Hash, Nicotine, Nitrous, and Mescaline— countless poisons of distressed nerves in constant supply, and additionally, an unfamiliar substance to those denizens of the flip side: a glimmering, glittery smoke that seemed to make its consumers overflow with some manner of thaumaturgic energy. Strung up balloons and inflatable humanoid figures line the ceiling and walls in decorative intervals, each figure bearing warm, friendly, almost unnervingly human smiles, frozen laughs, and the occasional grimace. ]
HODGE: Welcome back to the land of the living! You look… the same. Well, we're here. Haven't seen Wondertainment so far but the food is great.
[ Hodge is dressed in a purple pinstripe suit, with a large, voluminous feather boa snaked around his neck and wrapped around his waist and right thigh. His head is encased in a solid gold birdcage, with an extra gate near his mouth that can be easily opened for access to morsels of food. ]
KAFOA: Hodge, what the fuck are you wearing?
HODGE: Whoa now, nomeclature!
KAFOA: We've already been made. Death knows who we are.
HODGE: Wow. So he's the real deal, I guess. And you guys got to hang out! Did you ask him when we're gonna die?
KAFOA: You answer my question first.
HODGE: About the outfit? This is what that Taxes entity got me. Not exactly what I had in mind, but I think he heard me mention Robin Williams' Birdcage and just kinda… went with that?
KAFOA: It suits you, Hodge. Where did the entity go after he dressed you? Did he say anything about Wondertainment?
HODGE: No, not that I— wait, he did say something about a Catterfly needing some rolling paper.
KAFOA: Of course. You just let him go. Could you try taking this seriously, Hodge? I mean, look at yourself! You're dresesd like a swing dancer at Marie Antoinette's pride rave!
HODGE:It's not that big a deal. I'm in touch with my feminine side! I say we just go with it; no doubt "Mads" is gonna show his face sooner or later. It's his party!
KAFOA: We need to get more info. Don't forget we're on a mission here, Hodge.
HODGE: Listen. Sure, it's a once-in-a-lifetime crazy magic super party, but I'm not just goofing off. I'm blending in. You get info your way, and I'll get it in mine.
[ Kafoa splits with Hodge, wandering around the ballroom and weaving in between careless and unobservant partygoers. She is a stark contrast with her paramilitaristic tactical gear. ]
CIRCULAR MAN: Oooh, that's such an interesting look!
[ Kafoa finds herself face-to-face with a strange, regally dressed character. He is tall and fat, his rotund figure punctuated by a face resembling that of a hairless pig with an airy handlebar mustache. While he is clearly overweight, his silhouette is rendered comically sphereical by a large quilted cloak, bejeweled with emerald and ruby buttons at the seams. His hat, a bizarre pairing, appears not unlike an old fashioned nightcap. ]
CIRCULAR MAN: Who are you wearing? Mickey? Goaty Hare? Dare I say… Mads himself? No, no. This is too form-fitting, too slate-toned. I can't quite make it out! Oh please, please, I am positively squealing with intrigue! Tell me, miss?
KAFOA: And who exactly are you? One of the three little pigs?
BARON VON PORKINS: Why! Tell me, what did I do to you to deserve being compared to those degenerates? I'm the veritable Honorable 5th Baron von Porkins, esteemed and such. It's not a big deal, I'm only the 5th most chatterific baron by vote, and I was only the last invited to the Mad— sorry, the Sane King's Packing Peanut Ski Trip last year in the hinterlands, of course. I could forgive you for not knowing me, after all. Very easy mistake. But I am forgiving, you know! I am desperate to know! Do tell, what! are! you! wearing!
KAFOA: Standard Tactical Gear?
BARON VON PORKINS: D'actie Quelle-Giers… I've not heard of that designer! You've stumped me, miss… what was it?
KAFOA: Kafoa. You can call me Kafoa.
BARON VON PORKINS: Err… Kafoa? Just Kafoa? No title or house or landed pageantry? Just Kafoa? You're not some sort of peasant, are you?
KAFOA: In the flesh!
[ The Baron Von Porkins winces with disgust before realizing his social faux-pas. ]
BARON VON PORKINS:Right, well, yes, of course! This isn't about titles, how stupid of me! We are here to frolic and cavort and imbibe most vigorously! If you're here, you're all about the spirit of our king, my great friend— nay, greatest friend, who is of course kindred in our material, monetary extravagance. But you will do. Tell me then—not to be uncouth—how did you afford the ticket?
KAFOA: By the invitation of Dr. Wondertainment.
[ The Baron appears to become washed with sudden, pronounced sadness. His eyes tear a bit. ]
BARON VON PORKINS: Oh, I see. I didn't realize… you knew him… so much better… well played, Miss Kafoa… well played.
KAFOA: Tell me, Mister, uh, Baron Porkins… How long does it usually take for Wondertainment to make his appearance at the party?
BARON VON PORKINS: Well, you see, he has to prepare himself and the Calendar Hare for the Unbirthing! It takes quite some time, you know. Though we don't stress that fact—the King hates Time, you see, and has nothing to do with him!
KAFOA: The—? Look, I'm going to need you to explain all of that.
BARON VON PORKINS: The Calendar Hare is the largest and most primordial of all the Monthly Hares. It's a wonderful vintage, and it has these anti-oxidant, rejuvenating properties within its flesh. The King is fond of the hare, so fond—
[ The Baron is interrupted by a sudden swell of the music and the interjection of regal trumpet fanfare. An assemblage of liveries dressed in the finest humans gathered at the helm of the hall, in front of the wall-face, which was now shifting and folding into the floor. It reveals a large, velvety curtain adorned with stylized Wondertainment insignias from floor to ceiling. ]
HEAD LIVERY: Attention all! Attention, attention! Put down your pipes and papers, your and spoons and sugars, your opiums and opossums! I humbly introduce the most esteemed and honorable Viscount Ceremoniér Calendar Hare! Cheer ye, Cheer ye.
[ The crowd stills and erupts with rapturous applause. Hodge quickly slides in beside Kafoa, guiding her back to the table. A wordless glance between the two: the ball was properly starting. The two watch the curtain begin to crumble and fall, elegantly unveiling what must be the aforementioned Calendar Hare. Kafoa and Hodge stare with horror and disgust. ]
HEAD LIVERY: Thank you everyone for attending his Royal Majesty's 3rd Annual Unbirthday Ball, and for those for whom this is their first in attending, our most beautiful Calendar Hare here shall serve as the officiator of our titular Unbirthing!
[ The Calendar Hare sits behind the curtain, room-sized and fleshy. It is a writhing, twitchy, convulsing mound of angry-red flesh and boils. Dozens of furless rabbit ears protruded from the fatty rolling hills that make up the creature. Puddles of what Kafoa hoped to be sweat gathered where the terrible, malodorous corpus met the pristine marble floor. Pointed at the ball's audience was a large, human-height slit, sealed shut with a large metal zipper. On either side of the zipper: two severely atrophied and withered hind legs, long since decayed from disuse. ]
HODGE: This is rapidly becoming a lot less fun.
[ Kafoa gags. A base, primal instinct tells her to avert her gaze from what she logically knows is the Hare's visage, pooled and congealed near the ceiling. Hodge too elects to obey this primordial wisdom. The two agents look around at the other attendees, struggling to understand their composure. In the front, Kafoa sees two women, each resembling nesting dolls, appear to swoon with romantic gestures. All of the partygoers, entirely intoxicated by the array of substances and Dilly-Dally Oil, appear to be in a state of total blissful transfixation. Kafoa shudders. ]
HODGE: Does— does that say what I think it does?
[ Hodge points to signage at the front of the hall, directly in front of the Calendar Hare. Kafoa reads it aloud, largely drowned out by the revelry of the partygoers. ]
KAFOA: "SPLASH ZONE".
HODGE: No. Fuck that. Fuck that! What the fuck is all this?
KAFOA: Hey now. Language. We're blending in and playing along, aren't we?
HODGE: Point made.
HEAD LIVERY: And now, ladies and gentleladies, and gentler ladies, and gentlest ladies, and men, if we must— expedited for your pleasure: Our Best King, Greatest King, Most Elatedest and Sanest King: King Mads Wondertainment the First!
[ Kafoa and Hodge watch with confusion as the Head Livery gestures to empty airspace. The rest of the crowd looks on with expectant veneration. Billows of purple and blue glitter-smoke waft from the pipes towards the Calendar Hare. Perplexingly, they seem to gather near the Head Livery, concentrating into the spot where the Livery is gesturing towards. It clicks for Kafoa. ]
KAFOA: That's him.
[ Hodge looks at Kafoa, puzzled, before she snaps back to the direction of the Hare. The entire room watches as the luminescent smoke begins to congeal into a human figure. It's a squat man, his head disproportionately large, his royal robes fully covered in sequins— no, not sequins. Gemstones. Atop his head he wears an impressively green top hat, and on top of that, a crown. ]
SCP-8981-A: You all are too kind, too kind. No really, you all have too much patience! This is a party! Kiss someone on the mouth! Engage in pre-marital hand holding! Really, have fun, but if you must, yes, it is me, He-Who-Eats-The-Most-Cherry-Pies-In-Spring-Contest, but I also serve as your Sanest King! Yes, I know, what a surprise! I am so very terribly excited to be here with you all today! Superstars, each and every one of you, especially you, I see you there, Lady Kitschonetta! Fabulous gown, really! But, I must give a special shout out to two new guests, tapeworms never before seen here in Wonderland, and no doubt people with many cheeses: I have welcomed here two agents of the Foundation! Everyone give a round of applause for Mr. Hodge and Ms. Kafoa, yes! The Foundation! Here!
[ Wondertainment, or the King, as he is known within SCP-8981, points directly at the two. A spotlight is placed on them, and they have to hold their hands above their eyes to see properly. Before either Hodge or Kafoa can find the words to speak, a figure, nearly identical in appearance to the King (though less extravagantly dressed) stands up violently and irately, raising fuss. ]
MAN WHO LOOKS LIKE SCP-8981-A: The Foundation? You cannot be serious! Surely this is an attack! Surely they aren't here— are you? Are we?
SCP-8981-A: Enough! I invited them here! This is not an attack, you idiot! Dumb Dumb, stupid stupid Minister of Pinky Promises! I brought them here to help us have many tea parties! You see, loyal subjects, this Foundation, for the ignorant and bereft of brain folds, they also want us to keep all of the wonder and fun and magic and opium for us here, in Wonderland! Isn't that magnanimous of them?
PARTY AUDIENCE (UNISON): So magnanimous!
SCP-8981-A: And so I brought you here, gracing you with my gracious estimable presence, to offer my help to you in keeping the Wonder—that you lot so loathingly despise—all to myself! Doesn't that sound agreeable?
PARTY AUDIENCE (UNISON): So agreeable!
KAFOA: I don't follow… you want us to keep your wonder, fun, and magic here and out of our world? Doesn't that ruin your company's model?
SCP-8981-A: My company? Dr. Wondertainment Inc, LLC, NRSV, RSVP, s'il vous plaît? To hell with brands and businesses and acronyms and French! They never did any good, and you lot never appreciated me anyways! My wonder is clearly too wondrous for your world, and the abominable and ungrateful brats, the Brothers Wondertainment—they are such greedy brats—they want to take away our Checkers and Jacks and Bouncy Balls, and, and, and! Especially! Our Oil! And we love our Dilly-Dally Oil, don't we!
PARTY AUDIENCE (UNISON): We love our oil!
KAFOA: You mean to tell us you have nothing to do with Wondertainment products anymore? And you want us to shut it down for good?
SCP-8981-A: I'm simply exhausted with casting whimsical pearls unto boorish swine. You don't want wonder? Fine! It ought to be mine, and mine only! Isn't that convenient for you?
[ Hodge and Kafoa exchange a hesitant look, unsure what to make of the proposition. It is absolutely a decision above their clearance level. ]
SCP-8981-A: Well, I don't care if you make a decision now, or later, or infinity laters, but I do have a party to get on with—a ball, if you will—and it is time to get that ball rolling, people! Let it roll down, down, down like Sisyphus! Except you two, Les Fondationaires, are no Sisyphus, and so for now— Guards!
[ SCP-8981-A gestures to the armored guards tending to the exits. He points to them, and then to Kafoa and Hodge.
SCP-8981-A:Take them to the Chateau D'Ennui until further notice. Now, people, citizens, dukes, duchesses, ladies, gentlemen, insects, mammals, fungis, fun guys, fun gals, fungals, et ceteras and et als: the moment has come, the moment to be unborn as your future and forever king…!
[ Kafoa and Hodge resist as the guards attempt to restrain them, but ultimately succumb to their superior numbers. The guards quickly and skillfully bind Hodge and Kafoa around their backs with a material that feels on their skin like sticky and moist licorice, though with durability far exceeding any sugary polymer. Despite their detainment, Kafoa and Hodge are almost thankful to be escorted out, as they hear behind them, behind the guards leading them out the hall, a loud sound of the Calendar Hare's slit unzipping, and the most horrible, wet, fetid squelching of what they can only imagine lay behind that zipper, and what the Sanest King encountered as he slipped inside. It ends with a loud spraying and sloshing sound. ]
[ There is feverish applause. ]
[ END LOG ]
Following the events of the Unbirthday Ball, Agents Hodge and Kafoa were imprisoned within a large fortified prison by the royal administration of SCP-8981-A. Formal holding charges of "sternness" and "indecision" were levied by the "Minister of Rubber Mallets". Information yielded during this time seemed to indicate SCP-8981-A is capable of producing semi-identical clones of himself through asexual reproduction, with these clones primarily serving in various governmental positions in a senior advisory council dubbed the "Yes Court". Constituent ministers are variously referred to as either a "Yes Man", typically by SCP-8981-A colloquially, or their full title. There exist 5 constituent Yes Men on the court:
- Minister of Bouncy Fortifications: Advises on military matters.
- Minister of Pinky Promises: Advises on foreign affairs and interreality diplomacy.
- Minister of Petty Complaints: Advises on citizenry appeasement and domestic leisure.
- Minister of Sugar & Opium: Advises on agricultural and nourishment sectors.
- Minister of Bureautainment: Advises on legal matters, large projects and policies.
In addition to the formal ministries associated with the Yes Court, there also appear to be numerous other SCP-8981-A clones that serve minor roles throughout the royal palace, particularly in roles that are dependent on the personal tastes or opinions of SCP-8981-A.
Shortly after detainment and imprisonment, Hodge was able to leverage the "Gaiety of his dress" to gain early release. Hodge was given a number of resources on behalf of SCP-8981-A to return to Foundation leadership with the presumed intention of leverage towards SCP-8981-A's stated goals of self-containment. Hodge's release was conditional, with Kafoa's continued custody being a contingency.
Hodge successfully and safely returned to baseline reality with assistance from a small battalion of SCP-8981-A's elite militant units, dubbed "Wombardiérs".
Containment Initiative
Utilizing information provided by SCP-8981-A, Foundation Intelligence was able to locate a number of SCP-8981 Access Points and identify ingress rituals. With this knowledge, the O5 Council approved an initiative to contain all means of ingress to SCP-8981. A summary of projects undertaken for this purpose is included below.
▼ HIDE LOG
PROJECT LOG
Truncated summary.
Access Point #08
Location: Lyelchytsy, Gomel Region (Belarus)
Description: Antique steel bedframe. When a bedskirt is placed over the frame, human subjects who crawl beneath it and emerge from the opposite side will find themselves in SCP-8981.
Special Containment Project: Moved to Storage Site-49.
Access Point #015
Location: Mosier, Oregon (USA)
Description: Large oak tree (Quercus garryana). A hollow knot along the western side expands in size when approached by a human subject, granting entry to SCP-8981 within.
Special Containment Project: Transplanted to Site-24 greenhouse.
Note: Upon discovery, several flexible tubes were seen extruding from the hollow knot into the ground below. When the tubes were confirmed to be neither part of the tree nor an apparatus of the spatial anomaly, an attempt was made to extricate them. During the attempt, the tubes rapidly retracted into the ground, causing minor injury to two personnel. No traces of the tubes could be found during subsequent investigation.
Access Point #22
Location: Puruk Cahu, Central Kalimantan (Indonesia)
Description: Drainage ditch overtaken by flora. When filled after heavy rainfall, human subjects who fully submerse themselves at the northernmost end will surface in a body of water within SCP-8981.
Special Containment Project: Commercial development constructed above and around the access point.
Access Point #028
Location: Phu Pha Man National Park, Laos
Description: Small cave opening surrounded by wild orchids in a variety of colors.
Special Containment Project: Sealed with cement.
Note: Upon discovery, the access point was completely obstructed by a variety of large black tubes identical to those observed around Access Point #015. Attempts to collect a sample of the material resulted in failure; tubes retracted rapidly as in previous encounter and could not be recovered.
Access Point #031
Location: Maruranau, Upper Takutu-Upper Essequibo (Guyana)
Description: Balatá tree (Manilkara bidentata) carved with climbing footholds commonly used in the region. Human subjects who fall from the top of the tree will land unharmed in SCP-8981.
Special Containment Project: Transplanted to Site-24 greenhouse.
Access Point #037
Location: Neu-Ulm, Bavaria (Germany)
Description: Rusted kitchen unit, found buried in a forested area. Bears decorative wooden paneling, heavily deteriorated. There is a spatial anomaly at the back of the oven portion which leads to a labyrinthine series of tunnels, the entirety of which remain confined to the dimensions of the original oven interior. SCP-8981 may be accessed through successful traversal of the tunnel system.
Special Containment Project: Excavated and moved to Storage Site-49.
Notes: Large black tubes once again seen upon discovery of the Access Point, extending from the oven tunnels into the surrounding woodland. Yet again, the tubes retracted too quickly to be intercepted by personnel.
Several hours after containment of Access Point #037 was secured, a decorative arrangement of baked goods was found to have appeared beside the excavation site. A handwritten card was attached to a stand at the center of the arrangement, reading "CEASE AND DESIST — WONDER BROS LEGAL, XOXOXO" on the front. The back of the card bore instructions for accessing a paratechnologically encrypted communications network. The incident was reported up the chain of command, and resulted in the O5 council issuing a temporary pause on SCP-8981 containment initiatives.
Communication Log
During the process of designing and implementing containment measures for SCP-8981 Access Points, the Foundation received an attempt at official correspondence from the corporate leadership of Wonder Bros Inc, their first instance of direct contact with the Foundation in the history of GOI-386.
After several more attempts at communication by GOI-386, each displaying successively greater security risk, the O5 Council agreed to carry out the requested digital conference. Attending the call would be Burgundy Wondertainment, COO; and Chambertin Wondertainment, CEO et al.; and the O5 Interrelations Subcommittee, consisting of O5-7, Chair; O5-3, O5-4, and O5-10.
▼ HIDE LOG
DIGITAL CONFERENCE
Meeting transcript.
[ BEGIN LOG ]
Chambertin: That was "Oh-Five-Seven"? Lovely name. Rolls off the tongue. Really, really creative… create— Alright, alright. Who are we still waiting on?
Burgundy: Two more.
Chambertin: Two? Lucky company, lucky, lucky—
O5-7: I serve as chair of our Interrelations Committee. I have to get this out of the way before my colleagues come in: this is an unusual scenario for us. I'm sure you are both well aware of our ongoing attempts to suppress your organization's activities, yes?
Chambertin: Bish-bosh. Heard it, seen it, who am I to judge? And really, a collaboration like this is a beautiful, beautiful thing! Think about it: laying down our muscular arms—big strong fabulous wondrous arms—laying them down, and— oh, we have another guest on the call now! Monsieur 'o-cinq-quatre'? Or Madame, apologies. Madamesieur… Welcome, welcome, we are here at this, this ping-pong match, yes! Much like that jubilee, the buoyant detente, the Nixon to our Mao! All the things we love so much in this world. You love. Yes, yes.
O5-4: Certainly.
BURGUNDY: Is your third still attending or should we begin?
O5-7: No, he should be joining soon. Is your colleague always like this?
Chambertin: Good, good, yes. More company! This is important for our organizations, this unprecedented partnership!
BURGUNDY: Yes. He is.
O5-4: So, you two represent the executive leadership of Wonder Bros Inc., then?
BURGUNDY: Correct.
O5-4: In its entirety? I see there are several additional users on the call.
BURGUNDY: Please do not question it. It'll—
Chambertin: And there we have our lucky winner! O5-5! I know, I know, settle down everyone. Really, the rancorous applause is too much! Now, now. Now that we are ready and gathered, you all can hear me okay, yes?
Unison: Yes.
Chambertin: Excellent! Now, if we could just do some quick introductions for you all and for us as well, to better engage in this illustrious and immutable joint-effort. I'll start: Hello everyone! I am Chambertain Wondertainment, CEO and President of Wonder Bros Ink-ink-ink, happy to be here to set up this little powwow! Alrighty, next?
[ From this point onwards, Chambertin physically relocates himself to assume the respective seats and webcams of his other held positions within GOI-386 ]
Chambertin: Hi everyone, I'm Chambertin Wondertainment, Vice President of Marketing. Eager to work with you all!
O5-7: Right, well—
BURGUNDY: Business as usual. Burgundy Wondertainment. COO here at Wonder Brothers Incorporated. Yes, it's my real name.
Chambertin: Snore, snore, snore, yawn, yawn— Chambertin Wondertainment, Director of Design! I'm the cool one!
Chambertin: Chambertin Wondertainment, Chair of our Board of Trustees. The other 13 members of our board, Chambertin Wondertainment, Chambertin Wondertainment, Chambertin Wondertainment, Chambertin Wondertainment, Chambertin Wondertainment, Chambertin Wondertainment, Chambertin Wondertainment, Chambertin Wondertainment, Chambertin Wondertainment, Chambertin Wondertainment, Chambertin Wondertainment, Chambertin Wondertainment, and George Aldwell, could not make it to the meeting. I will also spare the trouble and introduce our VP of Marketing, Chambertin Wondertainment, for him, so we don't eat up any more time.
O5-5: Christ. I guess I can go then. We typically don't deal in names, so I can be addressed as O5-5 or just 'Five' for the purposes of this call. I serve on the Interrelations Subcommittee for the Foundation, working with my other subcommittee members on matters to do with anomalous groups of interest such as your organization.
Chambertin: Anomaly? What did I do?
O5-5: Well, you see—
O5-7: Shh, just— Good afternoon Mr. and, uh, Mr. Wondertainment. Any relation to the Doctor?
BURGUNDY: None.
O5-7: I serve as the Chair, as I mentioned earlier. O5-4 here serves on the subcommittee as well, with a particular focus on outreach and risk mitigation. I assume that is why we are gathered here today?
Chambertin: Right, right, yes! Of course! I will allow my wonderful brother-in-wonderkin to lead that—
BURGUNDY: We are aware that you have a team of individuals under your employ currently within Wonderland.
O5-7: We are currently conducting an investigation into the anomaly, yes. Especially its association with your organization.
BURGUNDY: Right. Wonder Brothers Incorporated has an important financial relationship with Wonderland. Your incursion is potentially problematic for our current projections, especially with your organization's history of—
O5-5: Can we just get on with it? What do you want?
Chambertin: Ladies and gentlemen, and in betweens, if present, please, we are all consummate professionals here! Let's let everyone finish their thoughts, yes? I so terribly understand the impatience, with your very real and human employees still trapped so, so very far away!
O5-7: Is that a threat?
Chambertin: What do you take me for?
BURGUNDY: Our relationship to Wonderland is best understood as akin to a client-client relationship. Or manufacturer-supplier relationship. It is in our best interests we progress logically and soundly, yes?
O5-4: To be clear, SCP-8981 is not under your company's jurisdiction?
BURGUNDY: Unfortunately not. Which takes me to my most pressing concern: your arrival. Despite your best intentions, our institutional machiantions have been largely insulated from your attempts at "containment". It was mentioned that your ilk was 'invited' to the gate.
O5-7: We received a direct invitation by mail, at all of our facilities, from or on behalf of 'Dr. Wondertainment' himself.
Chambertin: Sorry to barge in right at this moment, but could you clarify, when you say on behalf of 'Dr. Wondertainment', this implies a level of branded packaging or endorsement? Would you be able to send over a scan or show a copy of the invitation received?
BURGUNDY: Dr. Wondertainment has not been under our employ for quite some time now. Chambertin, I don't think we need to confirm the branding.
Chambertin: If he is still using trademarked and licensed company material and impressions, we need to consider opening up a legal theater in addition to our current fronts! We can't have him tarnishing our image even more!
O5-7: Respectfully, your image is primarily that of a dubiously intentioned and often malicious plague on the toymaking industry.
Chambertin: No, no, no! Our toys are imbued with wonder and joy! True satisfaction designed to dominate markets and senses! The failures stamped with the Wondertainment label, they are the work of the late, great Dr. Wondertainment, our founder.
O5-4: And persona non-grata, from the sounds of it.
O5-5: I assume 'late, great' is figurative? Our team has interacted with a man identifying as Wondertainment, who by our judgement, aligns fairly well with existing information about the character.
Chambertin: May as well be dead, for all I care.
BURGUNDY: We had the former CEO & Founder declared legally dead in absentia for purposes of streamlining organizational proceedings. Chambertin took over after the Doctor's mental collapse. Unfortunately, because he did not formally resign and no longer resides in this plane, manufacturing a dead man proved our best solution. But yes, Dr. Wondertainment is paradoxically no longer associated with or a representative of Wonder Brothers Incorporated, and especially not the Dr. Wondertainment subsidiary and brand, which currently exists in a largely discontinued state as we develop a cohesive rebranding campaign more suitable for the general masses.
O5-7: So to be clear, you are telling us that the anomalous objects primarily associated with your company are in fact neither produced nor endorsed by your company? But rather bootlegs?
Chambertin: Look, if I can step in from a development perspective: Seven, it's really crucial for us to stress that the former Dr. Wondertainment, he is a rogue element. He left the company under extremely violent and unclear circumstances, and remains largely ungovernable and unbuyable. We no longer have control over the flow and output of WonderCules from his domain, and it seems like he is intent on waging war with his creations. That should be obvious to us all, yes?
O5-7: I'm sorry, I'm going to need some clarification, you didn't really answer my question: Is SCP-8981-A, formerly addressed Dr. Wondertainment- Is he the chief party responsible for the propagation of these harmful and paranormal entertainment products primarily associated with your organization?
BURGUNDY: Look, we can explain the concepts of harm, and, especially in pertinence to your organization's operating doctrine, abnormality, but again, we have to proceed in this with the understanding that The Hattertainment—as we call him—is an ungovernable threat to both of our operations. Our understanding is that at least two of your employees are imprisoned within the Chateau d'Ennui? Hodge and… Kafka, was it?
O5-4: Agent Hodge was able to negotiate his release. Agent Kafoa is still in the 'Chateau'.
BURGUNDY: Regardless, I think it's in our best interests to—
Chambertin: Collaborate!
BURGUNDY: Yes, collaborate on this matter, and bring Wonderland and all assets therein under some level of moderation.
O5-5: So. I have questions. Earlier, Burgundy, you mentioned that SCP-8981—or, er, Wonderland, as you may call it—was of key strategic importance to your organization's production scheme. This is not particularly in alignment with the idea that SCP-8981-A is the sole or even primary perpetuant agent of anomalous entertainment products under your company's moniker, so I have to ask: what is it exactly that you get out of this?
Chambertin: Well, you see, Wondercorp—er, Wonder Bros—our historical muse has always been the fauna and flora of Wonderland. The wondrous, fantasmulific creatures and images, these were what inspired Dr. Wondertainment to found our wonderful company, with the mission we share to this day: to bring wonder and joy to the world! Three E's: Entertain, Experiment, and Exalt.
BURGUNDY: Logistics prefers Exploit for the third.
Chambertin: We digress! Wondertainment sullied this concept, and though our company still upholds our traditional toymaking methods and customs, we have had to completely reorient our branding and operations to make up for his terrible, terrible deeds. His intentions to hoard all the wonder for himself, they are not what we stand for, and his insistence on—
BURGUNDY: Chambertin, I think we're straying too far away from the point: we have to stop his extremely destructive tantrums, and the release of dangerous and umarketable products into the consumer base. I think that is what the Foundation needs to hear.
O5-5: I'm unconvinced by this. From what we have learned so far from our team within, there seems to be a rather significant industrial sector in resource extraction— 'Dilly-Dally Oil' as the locals call it.
Chambertin: Dilly-Fucking-Dally Oil? That's what he calls it?
BURGUNDY: I was not aware you had constant contact with your team.
O5-4: Of course we do. You think we'd send them in blind?
O5-7: We have significant reason to believe, as indicated by your terming of the relationship as a client-client, among other infrastructure known and unknown, that a large portion of your business model involves the usage of resources from SCP-8981, particularly this 'Dilly-Dally Oil'.
Chambertin: WonderCule.
O5-7: What?
Chambertin: WonderCule. Patent pending. We try to have consistent marketing and branding. Please don't insult us with that stupid name. 'Dilly Dally Oil'… what a joke!
O5-5: Listen, Seven. I don't think GOI-386 is absolved here.
O5-4: I concur.
BURGUNDY: It would be a mistake to reject this opportunity.
O5-7: I fail to see any reason to not consider your company equally anomalous to Dr. Wondertainment, despite your claims that he is a rogue agent. Unfortunately, we are going to be leveraging our assets to bring the SCP-8981 Access Points and surroundings under our direct authority, and seizing any assets of Wonder Bros Inc. found to have abetted anomalous activity. We will not be significantly altering our policy towards your company and its products unless sufficient evidence has been provided of intention to abandon the production of anomalous products. Is this understood?
Chambertin: No, no, no, no, no! You do not have that power, mister!
O5-7: We obviously do.
Chambertin: No, you don't understand. When Joseph Stalin valiantly elected to reverse course and vanquish the horrible fascists jointly with the beautiful, wealthy Americans, it was of the mutualest understanding— the collaborative spirit that drives enterprise, that it was the matter of ensured survival and prosperity to instead annihilate the childish man in Berlin, the entry-level Caesar. No, no, you do not understand this. Instead we shall skip to the 90s and tear down this wall.
O5-5: Pardon?
BURGUNDY: For the purposes of brevity and clarity of communication, on behalf of Wonder Brothers Incorporated and all holdings and entities thereof, we authorize and declare the use of force against the Foundation. Succinctly put:
Chambertin: This is war.
[ END LOG ]
Communication ceased with GOI-386 following this exchange and developments at Provisional Containment Site-8981 involving mercenaries presumed to have been hired by Wonder Bros Inc. During the attempt to storm the site, a team of 12 enemy operatives managed to enter SCP-8981, later engaging in covert operations within SCP-8981.
At the recommendation of the Interrelations Subcommittee, GOI-386 was reclassified from a Class-3 Non-Hostile Anomalous Organization to a Class-1 Militant Anomalous Organization. Addition budgetary allocations to investigate all wings of Wonder Bros Inc and their legal frameworks were also approved.
Incursions
In the following months after declaring hostile intent, GOI-386 carried out a series of violent attacks at a number of Foundation Sites, SCP-8981 Access Points, various global operation posts, and within SCP-8981 itself. A list of notable incidents is presented below.
GOI-386 Incursions
Summary of hostilities against the SCP Foundation and SCP-8981.
Location: Storage Site-49
Description: Using the overcast sky as cover, a swarm of paper airplanes, believed to be a new variant of SCP-445, approached the facility from above and descended into every available door, window, and ventilation point. A lockdown was quickly initiated, but several emergency shutters proved insufficient, as the SCP-445 variants were able to unfold themselves and slide underneath.
Once inside, the instances of SCP-445 folded into various animal shapes and began to attack Storage Site-49 personnel. While the instances were only able to form small origami creations, their numbers were overwhelming.
Casualties: Eleven dead. Four critically injured. Several hundred personnel reported paper cuts over 5–85% of their bodies.
Measures taken: All facilities that have been involved with SCP-8981 containment are placed on high alert. A priority maintenance alert is issued to inspect lockdown mechanisms and ensure all emergency shutters close with an airtight seal.
Location: Site-24
Description: Twenty-eight members of personnel fell ill within a two hour period after eating at the Site-24 canteen. All those affected were determined to have consumed the same bubblegum-flavored dessert item. Initial symptoms presented as mild nausea, followed by severe stomach cramping; in the final stage, affected personnel began rapidly expelling blood from their pores in the form of a bubblegum-scented foam.
It has not been determined how GoI-386 was able to infiltrate and/or affect secure Foundation kitchen facilities.
Casualties: All twenty-eight of those affected expired as a result of exposure.
Measures taken: Desserts banned from at-risk facilities.
Location: Storage Site-49
Description: The facility's plumbing system was overrun by masses of animate rubber bands in a variety of colors, each molded to a particular shape. The bands proceeded to seek out human limbs and latch on by the dozen, constricting tightly.
Casualties: Four deaths as a result of kidney failure induced by crush syndrome. Several hundred personnel reported one or more broken limbs.
Measures taken: At-risk facilities ordered to inspect and secure all water and air systems.
Parlay Log
Within SCP-8981, Agent Kafoa remained imprisoned within the Chateau D’Ennui. Due to temporal distortions and incongruences, a precise timeline is difficult to ascertain; however, at some point after the escalation of hostilities by GoI-386 towards the Foundation and SCP-8981-A, she was released from her imprisonment at the Chateau. (SEE LOG BELOW)
▼ HIDE LOG
ARGOS LOG
Transcript generated through the use of cognitive relay.
Language and events described may be influenced by subjective cognition.
[ BEGIN LOG ]
[ Kafoa has spent several days and nights within SCP-8981-A's punitive fortress, the "Chateau D'Ennui", where dissidents are imprisoned to quarantine boredom. It is a drab, spare facility, though surprisingly comfortable for its status as a prison. Time within SCP-8981 does not seem to mesh well with Kafoa's circadian rhythm, and she has quickly found herself growing more and more disoriented within her cell. She has no real way of knowing how much time has elapsed. ]
[ A pair of playing card guards come clanging at Kafoa's cell gate, informing her that the King requested her presence. In the short time she had spent within the fortress, she had heard and seen many new additions to the stockade. Most of these additions, identified by their dress, badges, or insignia, were affiliates of GoI-386. Kafoa had not known of an explicitly militant wing of Dr. Wondertainment. It seemed to lend credence to the claims SCP-8981-A had made at the ball. ]
THREE OF HEARTS: You ought to consider yourself a lucky bean. His Grace thinks you reformable.
FOUR OF CLUBS: Reformable, indeed. You are to come with us by carriage.
KAFOA: Come with you where? Has the situation with the Foundation changed?
THREE OF HEARTS: No, the building is still stable. Do not worry, the Chateau passed its inspections with flying marks.
FOUR OF CLUBS: Isn't the phrase flying colors?
THREE OF HEARTS: Is it?
[ The two guards ponder for a moment before shaking their heads in unison. ]
THREE OF HEARTS: No matter! Miss Kafoa, you will be coming with us back to the King's palace.
[ The guards jingle and clang their keys and gingerly open the gate to Kafoa's cell. She walks up hesitantly. As she steps out, the Four of Clubs stops her, grabbing her arm. ]
FOUR OF CLUBS: Tsk-tsk! You will still have to be bound, you know. This isn't some sort of choo-choo daycare! Come on, now.
KAFOA: Fine, fine. I get it. What exactly does Wondertainment want from me?
[ The Three of Hearts binds Kafoa with the sticky, stretchy wrappings that had been used on her and Hodge at the ball. The texture is just as unpleasant now as it was then. It brings to mind all the times she had looked after her nieces and nephews, specifically the bizarre, perpetual sugary-sweet clamminess of children's skin. ]
THREE OF HEARTS: You'd best familiarize your tongue with the word "King".
KAFOA: Fine. "King" Wondertainment. Why am I going back to him after being thrown here? Did Hodge set something up?
THREE OF HEARTS: I don't know a Hodge, do you?
FOUR OF CLUBS: Isn't that a pastry?
THREE OF HEARTS: Could be. I'll have to look into that. Anyways, Miss Kafoa, we just follow orders. There is a carriage prepared for us at the foot of the Chateau.
FOUR OF CLUBS: His majesty calls them "Wondermobiles"!
KAFOA: Those things? They're death traps! Absolutely not. I've read the Zagreb Incident Reports. There's nothing better? Nothing else?
THREE OF HEARTS: Mind your tone! I don't care if you're some sort of tory, I can assure you his majesty's machinations—
FOUR OF CLUBS: Well, we do have a horse-drawn.
THREE OF HEARTS: What? No, we're taking the shiny new carriage his highness gave us! He gave it to us! Don't be difficult.
FOUR OF CLUBS: Honestly… the smog from that thing makes me a bit ill, dear.
[ The Three of Hearts becomes visibly flustered. Kafoa pretends not to notice. ]
KAFOA:Are you two going to keep wasting time? If I have to go, I'd like it to be sometime today.
THREE OF HEARTS: Tch. You're an ornery one. Fine! We will escort you down to the—
FOUR OF CLUBS: Horse and carriage!
THREE OF HEARTS: Yes, that's… ugh, fine. Follow us.
[ The two guards assume formation, one at the helm, and one at the caboose, with Kafoa bound and leashed in the middle of the two. The Three of Hearts leads stalwart; the Four of Clubs, however, marches buoyantly behind Kafoa, whistling along to some imagined tune. She doesn't care to pay attention to her surroundings as they meander through the corridors and halls and barracks within. The plain, unadorned nature of the Chateau does not lend itself to beholding. ]
[ Instead, Kafoa takes notice of the prisoners she is able to catch glimpses of; in particular, she notices that many of the newer, corporate inmates, have varying levels of injury and maiming: the bounty of skirmish. The more grievously injured prisoners, she noticed, were connected to a large pneumatic machine, and based on the varying levels of bloat and misshapenness, she infers that they are being filled with air— human balloons. It occurred to her that she, and the Foundation at large, had been completely unaware of the conflict between Wondertainment and his company. Not exactly a comforting thought when reconciled with the Foundation's posturing as a hegemon of the veil. ]
[ The trio arrive at the mouth of the fortress, where a prepared carriage and Wondermobile await them. The carriage was almost conventional: baroque, elegant, and adorned once again with royal Wondertainment livery. Almost conventional, as it were, as the carriage was helmed by a haughty flock of tall pink flamingos. ]
THREE OF HEARTS: Are you sure we shouldn't take the newfangle?
KAFOA: Get me onto that carriage. If the King has a problem with that, I'll answer for it.
FOUR OF CLUBS: Let's flamin-go, then!
KAFOA: Oh, that was brutal.
THREE OF HEARTS: She has a point.
[ The Three of Hearts climbs up and into the carriage, readying himself and extending his arms down to hoist Kafoa aboard. The Four of Clubs gives her a helping boost, and she steadies herself comfortable onto the platform as the Three assumes the driver's seat and reins. The Four clumsily climbs inside. ]
KAFOA: So, what are we waiting for now?
THREE OF HEARTS: Hmph. Aye!
[ The Three of Hearts stokes the flamingoes, and the carriage rockets off far faster than Kafoa expected the flightless birds to go. The ride is quiet and surprisingly smooth sailing, giving Kafoa ample opportunity to survey the landscape of SCP-8981, something she hadn't quite been able to get a glimpse of on the way to the Chateau D'Ennui. ]
[ Wherever in Wonderland they are, it's rife with rolling hills and flowery shrubbery. Off in the distance she can see numerous small hamlets and villages, with the occasional cluster of arboreal mushrooms and pink, feathered trees dotting the landscape. There are fields of grain nested in many of the hills near to the villages, fields where peasantry undoubtedly toiled to fill the King's breadbasket, as all polities of yore had done. Kafoa finds herself wondering where exactly the wonder is supposed to be in all of this. To her, from this carriage, bound and having been imprisoned for political purposes very familiar to the normal world, SCP-8981 looks an awful lot like the same ugly hen in brand new drag. ]
[ As the carriage leaves the waves and crests and wakes of hilly grasslands, the foliage becomes much denser. Shrubs and trees and large, whimsical mushrooms become dominant, but above all, Kafoa becomes aware of another sense: smell. Specifically, the smell of smoke. The smell of burning. The smell of gunpowder. ]
[ The carriage begins to traverse rockier, rougher terrain, before suddenly bursting into an open clearing. The smell of smoke becomes sharp and keening, and Kafoa, turning to the direction it wafted most intensely from, spots its source: great lumbering towers of spindly steel and brassy pipes and monolithic gears and cogs sprout from the ground like Mekhanite redwoods, billowing deep indigo and purple clouds of smog. ]
KAFOA: What are those?
THREE OF HEARTS: Those beauties? They're part of the Hinter Rigfield, from which the King gets his finest supply of Dilly-Dally Oil.
KAFOA:Oil? That's what he smokes?
THREE OF HEARTS: He doesn't just smoke it! That's the source of all our whimsicality, the blood of this very loam!
[ Kafoa looks at the feet of the rigs, seeing a variety of artilleries and armaments. ]
KAFOA: What's with the martial assemblage?
FOUR OF CLUBS: We are at war, after all!
THREE OF HEARTS: Those puffed up putrefacts are after our petrol, after all.
KAFOA: Right.
[ Kafoa spends the rest of the ride gazing at the vast fields of oil rigs and weapons arrays. If this level of defense is needed to ward off the extractive ambitions of the corporate leftovers, perhaps it really might be necessary to intervene. At the very least, she now knows what the secret behind Wondertainment's products is. She begins slipping into a daydream as the repetitive churn of the carriage lulls her: She's back home in Kendall, it's a Sunday afternoon, she's eating tortas and beans with her brothers, her sisters, her cousins, her mother, and even her father, actually home for once. ]
THREE OF HEARTS: Wake up, dilly-daisy! We're here.
[ Kafoa groans. The guards help her off the carriage and safely onto the ground. She looks up at them, expecting them to follow her down, but they remain aboard the carriage. ]
KAFOA: You two aren't going to escort me?
FOUR OF CLUBS: Well you see, the King said—
SCP-8981-A: Thank you, thank you, you two did an excellent—if conservative—job. I was hoping, praying verily merrily baptistly that you would bring Little Miss Sunshine in my Big Macaroni Wonderwagonsmobile XC, but I understand, the amish are en vogue now.
THREE OF HEARTS: I knew it! We should've taken the—
KAFOA: Like hell I was going to ride in that deathtrap!
SCP-8981-A: Deathtrap? No, no, no, it's the finest buggery-buggy I've crafted since—
KAFOA: Zagreb?
[ SCP-8981-A chuckles heartily. It catches Kafoa off guard. ]
SCP-8981-A: What a riot! Of course you'd fuss about Zagreb. Zazazazaza… The board, they begged me to, they said, "Oh Mads, James Madison, crafter of the craftiest corporate constitution, please oh please incorporate the newest Hybrid Electric Vehicle fad into your beautiful, powerful, anti-marxist Wondermobile!" I tried to tell them, Dilly-Dally Oil is enough. I did, I really did. It was so sad what happened to that hard working American Family of six that had saved up all year to vacation in Croatia. It was so, so, sad. I cry about it even now. If only they hadn't cancelled their life insurance policy to find funds for the trip, maybe then their surviving children— no, it is too terrible to trouble my mind with! I must have some festivities as a treat for that great exercise of empathy!
KAFOA: No, don't wring your hands. You designed that car to run on more than just Oil, eh? Mommy and Daddy clash once and the car goes boom? Really? You're gonna blame that on the board?
[ The guards appear antsy, withdrawing into the carriage as the exchange between Kafoa and the King grows more heated. ]
SCP-8981-A: Am I to blame if the nuclear family is in decline? That's the problem with the—
KAFOA: What did you bring me here for?
[ The guards quickly pull up the reins and ride off in the carriage, eagerly seeking a quick exit in fear of further faux pas. ]
SCP-8981-A: Oh, right. Yes. I brought you here for, for, for, for—!
KAFOA: For what? Come on, I'm not here to play games.
SCP-8981-A: Au contraire, Fondationaire! For, for, for, for… count it.
[ Kafoa frowns. ]
SCP-8981-A: Four! The number four! You yanks and your cognitive deficiencies confound me, and yet your ilk called me the mad one! This Hatter is perfectly sane. Four! Four, Kafoa, Four! Connect Four! Shiny, shiny? You ought to know that one, yes?
KAFOA: The plastic one? You're serious? The one with the plastic chips?
SCP-8981-A: Why would I not be serious?
KAFOA: It's just… I don't know? You're Wondertainment. I'd expected that, if you played games, it'd be something bigger? Maybe chess with giant humans, or, or— I don't know. Seriously, Connect Four? That's what you want to play?
SCP-8981-A: One of my greatest failures as a visionary was being bested by Wexler in the perfection of this perplexing plastic proprietary product. Near infinite combinations and movements and strategics and notice! Notice how it can be the sharpest bladed children or teenagers besting the wisest of adult tacticians! It is egalitarian! It is level, and just, and naive, and impossibly fun! We should play it, Miss Kafoa. I think you'd quite like it. When's the last time you sat down and played?
KAFOA: I dunno, a week ago, I guess? I was looking after Leah, my niece, because her mom couldn't find a babysitter for SAT prep, and I played some weird banana game on the tablet with her—
SCP-8981-A: I knewity knew it! You're the oldest child, yes? Oldest indeed. It's a charming story, really. I love sticky, Americanly screen-glued tots. Charming, so cute, et cetera. But Kafoa, dear Kafoa, I don't give a fuck about other people's games. Tell me, when's the last time you played? Not for your sisters or nieces or anyone else— to hell with expectations! Crush it! Kill it! Tell me Kafoa, when did you last play for yourself?
KAFOA: No, that's not what I'm here for. What do you really want? What exactly is your deal, "Dr. Wondertainment"? How is this supposed to help you? That's why you invited us here, right? To ask for help in fending off your company?
[ SCP-8981-A's expression shifts and sours with trouble. ]
SCP-8981-A: Why do you have to speak of that company? The brothers… Ooooh! It makes me sick! Taxes waffled on and on about the brothers, that they will pounce, and I just don't care about it all. Kafoa, do you understand? Taxes is in the Chateau now, you know. We will play Connect Four and everything will be fine. All will be fine. Your friend will handle your bosses, yes? Hodge, was it? Leave it to him, please. We will play now. I have the comfiest of chairs in my palace. And just call me Hatter. Or Mads. We don't need any formalities.
KAFOA: So, what? I just play games with you until they come?
[ The Hatter smiles. ]
SCP-8981-A: Yes, I do believe you understand it now.
[ Kafoa resigns herself, and the two enter the palace, allowing the Hatter to rope her into his grand routine of board games and Beaujolais. ]
[ END LOG ]
Further relay with Kafoa was severely affected by subsequent GoI-386 offensives on Access Point #17.
Location: Access Point #042 (Vatnajökull National Park, Iceland)
Description: During the intial discovery and survey of the Access Point, personnel were ambushed by a swarm of animate pillows with plush animal heads. The pillows immediately leapt at the faces of everyone present, wrapping around tight and fastening at the back with an anomalously strong velcro latch.
Casualties: Two personnel suffocated in the attack. Seven required treatment for injuries resulting from bites and scratches.
Measures taken: Changes made to strategic approach of uncontained Access Points.
Intelligence
Following successful containment initiatives at several SCP-8981 Access Points, Foundation personnel have intercepted a number of correspondences between SCP-8981-A and Wonder Bros Inc., seemingly intending provocation or reconciliation of conflict. Occasionally, responses from the executive leadership of GoI-386 were also intercepted. A selection of these writings has been included below.
To whom it definitely does concern and must concern and if it doesn't— you should be concerned, very concerned, gravely, etc.
BURGUNDY!
Twenty-Four tin soldiers with pointy ushankas crushed—
Five-hundred Wombardiers dead, many disgruntled, at least one barrel of oil gone—
This is an OUTRAGE!
The Baron Montespoolcue doth protest too much, pestering me with complaints that little imp men in straight-ties have snooped around Cuckooville. Little imp men! I outlawed those months ago, and then he tells me they had a flat, Bulgar-fashioned typeface of MY insignia on it. Mine! What more do you all want from me? I lined those polyester pockets with many heaps of pennies! Many heaps! And to what avail, BURGUNDY WONDERTAINMENT?
I am using PTO, am I not? Isn't that the sort of thing that rubs your melon? I deserve this retirement, so what if I want to smoke all the oil myself? You're smart. Champ is brilliant. You can manage without it. I deserve this!
I made you all, so leave me be. Let me be happy, thank you, and stop stealing my toys or you will find more apple-red entrails and guts at your feet. I will kill your imps with the utmost indiscretion, especially the boring ones in Calvin Klein. They will specifically be turned into a better use of material for balloonery at children's birthdays across all of my domain, and instructed to repent for their sins against good taste.
REGARDS!
To whom doth not respond to my lovingly crafted and stationary'd letterwyrke, and is undoubtedly the most spoiled lot of the dormitory—that's right, you cretinous businessmen, who certainly cried when the boys and girls in Bern didn't want to be your friend—
ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!
This land is my land, this land is my land, this land is not your land, it's only my land! See, I can't be American like you all. Leaving the fatherland? Despicable! I bet your new products sans moi lack the true Wondertainment fire! They lack the whimsy! They lack the WHAM! Wretchedly unWHAMsical, no two ways about it.
I was the ORIGINAL! You two are nothing without me! I will not be insulted with these attempts at thievery from a cowardly infant who can't even write back to the titan who made him!
P.S. Nice shiny factory you have in Aberdeen! T'wouldst'd be a shame if something happened to it…
REGARDS!
To the most pathetic of brothers whom not a single hatter to ever hat would ever miss, mourn, nor feel wist in regards to or in pertinence to—
whom cannot fathom the concept of retirement, as petulant children of an intellectually uninspired parasitism—
whomst've which run most companies into the ground, similar to the astounding failure of the Sega Dreamcast (that's right, you two know what you did)—
LEAVE MY TOYS ALONE.
I WILL KEEP KILLING YOUR WAGE SLAVES UNTIL YOU WRITE TO ME AND TELL ME TO ENJOY RETIREMENT.
I deserve this much. I don't care if you need my wonder and toys to sustain your pennies.
I will let you starve and dry out and die out and be drained of all pennies if it means I keep my playthings.
Why would I share them with some ungrateful suburbanites who NEVER EVER write to me?? Instead they send frightfully boring suit-wankers to confiscate my oil!
It's FINE.
Skinning your middle-managers has become my new favorite pastime.
REGARDS!
An intercepted response from GoI-386, below:
Dear Mads,
All the indignant violence and outbursts of entitlement will not make Chambertin more amenable to correspondence. We are just as entitled to the oil that made your comfort as you were when you made Wondertainment what is is now. Your desire to escape into retirement will not come at the expense of 3% per annum. I don't care that you made us. It is our turn.
-Burgundy Wondertainment, COO
Information from these correspondences corroborated the theorized involvement of Dr. Wondertainment in the deadly bombing of an Aberdeen, Scotland industrial complex. It was not known at the time, but subsequent investigation revealed the complex to be under the operation of a Wonder Bros Inc. shell company, sufficiently obscured of anomalous mechanisms to function as a clandestine extraveil toy manufacturing factory.
Further evidence of violent conflict between the forces of SCP-8981-A and GoI-386 have been found at several Access Points internationally.
Location: Hearst, Ontario (Canada)
Description: A large burst of force came down through the roof of O5-7's home and into his upper bedroom, crushing his bed and killing his body double instantly. Attempts to remove the corpse were initially met with frustration, as an unseen obstruction prevented access to the bulk of the remains. Further investigation revealed the source of the deadly force to be a falling grand piano that neither reflected nor absorbed light in any wavelength.
Casualties: One dead.
Measures taken: Additional body doubles hired for O5 Councilmembers.
Invasion
Following the skirmish at Access Point #17, a large volume of Wonder Bros Inc. aligned mercenaries and corporate militants gained access to SCP-8981, beginning a large scale incursion and military operation within. The primary goal of the militants appeared to be to regain control of a nearby series of resource extraction facilities, referred to by GoI-386 documentation as "Hinter Rigfields", and resume the extraction and import process into prime reality. Despite significant losses, GoI-386 is believed to have successfully taken control of the area, transporting several thousand gallons of WonderCule-rich mineral oil through SCP-8981 and presumably into company stockpile.
Kafoa, still imprisoned within SCP-8981-A's palace, was in the immediate presence of SCP-8981-A when GoI-386's forces captured the Hinter Rigfields.
▼ HIDE LOG
ARGOS LOG
Transcript generated through the use of cognitive relay.
Language and events described may be influenced by subjective cognition.
[ BEGIN LOG ]
[ Kafoa and SCP-8981-A are sat in the main royal hall playing board games. Kafoa's skill has thus proven to vastly outrank the Hatter's, who has been a sour sport about it. ]
MINISTER OF BOUNCY FORTIFICATIONS: My liege!
SCP-8981-A: Not now, Yes Man. I am squashing Kafoa in Chinese Checkers!
[ SCP-8981-A proceeds to execute a three marble chain, dipping a Madeleine into a saucer of "Dilly-Dally Oil" before eating it whole as celebration. ]
KAFOA: "Squashing" is generous. I've won the last three rounds.
SCP-8981-A: Sore loser.
MINISTER OF BOUNCY FORTIFICATIONS: The Brothers have reached the rigs— the Hinter— they've cleared out the Wombardiérs, and another force is storming the Chateau D'Ennui to free some of their mercenaries!
SCP-8981-A: Yes, yes, fine— What? No, no, no. You have to be mistaken, misfortunately mistaken! Please, tell me you have some other humorous canary in your throat? They reached the rigs, is that right? That can't be right, no, no, the Wombardiérs are better—
KAFOA: The Brothers? They're here again?
MINISTER OF BOUNCY FORTIFICATIONS: Yes, they are very much here, and very much guns blazing. I had expected the battalion posted at the southern rigs to hold strong, but they were overwhelmed by some sort of mystical wave of sound, and—
SCP-8981-A: No! You are a liar! This is all lies, lies, lies. There is no way those cretins could possibly, probabilistically hope to lord over— no, no, they do not deserve this, they do not deserve the dilly-dally, not at all. Send more troops! Send more, send more, send more more more! Keep them at bay forever, they cannot reach me here, they cannot drag me back, not now, not ever!
[ SCP-8981-A gets up from the game table, and begins pacing repetitively. His skin begins to flush with color, taking on a dull teal hue. ]
MINISTER OF BOUNCY FORTIFICATIONS:We have three legions left…
SCP-8981-A: Three!? How could you let it get down to three? Send them all at once, send them and arm them with the oil-wands, explode them! Get it? Ka-boom! Ker-splat! Kill them all! I don't care, this is my playdate! Mine, and mine only! They can learn to share, sharing is caring— it's not communist, I promise! It's still capitalist! I'm a good little boy, I promise. Just kill them! You have to! I don't care by what means anymore, I will send out the All-Consuming-Eternal-Devouring-0%-Polyester-Fuzzy-Worm to obliterate them all if I must, but I must finish my game at least. Give me that!
MINISTER OF BOUNCY FORTIFICATIONS: The Barons of Opiemmburg, Arseny, and Smythe raise fuss, they want the legions to protect their holdings first—
SCP-8981-A: Kill them then! Turn them into cute unicorn balloon animals and lay them at my feet or string them up for Kafoa's quinceañera! They are boring, we can charge them with that. Our beautiful blissful party here is more important than their coffers! Who cares about bread and corn? I care about sugar and opium, yes! I deserve it.
MINISTER OF BOUNCY FORTIFICATIONS: Yes, but—
SCP-8981-A: Why are you still here? Did I not give you orders? Are you jealous of me? Do you want to play checkers too, then? Is that what this is? You envy my joy? Look how happy I am, look, all smiles here! All smiles here! All smiles—
[ SCP-8981-A picks up the checkerboard and throws it at the Minister of Bouncy Fortifications, laughing hysterically. Kafoa observes nervously, sweat beginning to form beads on her forehead. The Minister of Bouncy Fortifications trips on his boot trying to dodge the flung board, leaving a long gash up his shin and stockings. The wound leaks out luminous pink liquid— Dilly-Dally Oil, or 'WonderCules' as the corporate side calls it. The Yes Man holds his wound frantically, trying to keep the liquid from pouring out. The color from his garments and features gradually begins to fade and desaturate as more of the oil oozes out. ]
SCP-8981-A: Isn't this fun? Don't you think it's so easy to be king? This is my party. I should be having fun, right? Right? So kill them! Don't let them in! Tell them I did everything I'm supposed to! I played the cards, I made the money, I lined my pockets, their pockets, every pocket with money and— and— and wonder! Mads did it all, I did it all so diligently, so perfectly, I was the one who wore every hat I needed to and now— and now— I just want to play a game in peace, is that so hard?
MINISTER OF BOUNCY FORTIFICATIONS: No, it's just—
SCP-8981-A: No..? You are a Yes Man! On my Yes Court! You are supposed to say… wait for it!
KAFOA: Listen, I think we should focus—
SCP-8981-A: Shut up, you well-endowed chimneysweep! I'm tired of hearing all this rancor from the Foundation of Fuckery! Sick and tired! All I did was make toys! You lot ruined that, and now I'm here! Look at all this, isn't it wonderful? I can play checkers, except—
[ SCP-8981-A chucks a chair at the Yes Man, crashing into his temple and chest. The Minister of Bouncy Fortifications falls backward in pain. ]
SCP-8981-A: They! won't! let! me! One thousand little million billion favors and treats and you still won't let me play my stupid little game! What part of this looks like fun?
[ SCP-8981-A lunges at the Yes Man from across the room, tackling him to the ground and straddling his chest. ]
SCP-8981-A: This is not my life! This is not my life! This is, this is— I'm not supposed to be here! You have to kill them! You have to! You have to! I just want to play, I don't want to have to do all this! Kill them, kill them all! They killed me, it's only fair! Things are supposed to be fair! You are useless if you can't protect me! That's your only job! Let me play, please! Please, I beg you, you have to kill them all.
[ The color drains from the Yes Man as the Hatter squeezes the oil from his body, twisted by tightened hands around his throat and waist. Hysterical tears and laughter burst from SCP-8981-A as he hunches down against the now lifeless, dried out husk. ]
SCP-8981-A: I made them. Why can't they do this for me? Have my sacrifices not been extravagant enough?
[ Kafoa struggles against her bindings as she watches the scene unfold. They do not budge. Instead, she attempts to avert her gaze as the unabashedly sobbing Hatter begins to chew and bite the withered Yes Man, sinking his teeth into the fabric and flesh and lapping up the oil that had leaked out. He begins by tearing off the fingers and extremities, wrapping each morsel in the bleached cloth and fabric of the frock. He chokes back cries with each bite, chewing minimally and simply swallowing the pieces of the former minister at a manic pace. Kafoa tries to stifle her vocalizations of horror, but a few of them claw their way through her dry throat. ]
SCP-8981-A: Please, don't look at me. I didn't do anything wrong. They made me do it.
[ The Hatter stares at Kafoa, red-eyed and teary. Purple and blue oil drips from his teeth and lips, soaking his collar and coat with glowing glitter and sparkling spatter. Kafoa meets his gaze for a moment, expecting to feel the presence of some rabid wolf. Instead, she beholds a screaming infant in the palm of her hands. ]
KAFOA: You ate him.
SCP-8981-A: I made him. I made him to say yes to me. He said no. He made me do it.
KAFOA: You need to let me out of here. I have to get out of here. You heard him, right? They're going to take everything over if you don't get help from the Foundation. And we won't help if you don't let me out.
SCP-8981-A: No, no, no, we still have so many more games to play, songs to sing, and you— you are my best friend! Best friends never leave!
[ Kafoa cringes, wriggling against her binds. ]
SCP-8981-A: No, say you want to stay here with me forever!
[ Kafoa stills, silent. ]
SCP-8981-A: Say it! Say you don't really want to leave me!
KAFOA: I'm not your friend! I am your prisoner, your leverage! I am your chip on the table! But you're done, Hatter, you're out of cards! I want to get out of here! We'll help you kick them out, but you have to let me out of here!
[ SCP-8981-A frowns, wiping oil from his mouth. He gets up from the crumbled remains of the minister, and stomps over to Kafoa's seat. ]
SCP-8981-A:No, this isn't right. You can't be serious, you're joking! This is all a joke! Clever joke! Say it, Kafoa, right? You're joking!
[ The Hatter lets out a frantic laugh, staring at Kafoa before shaking her shoulder violently. ]
SCP-8981-A: Say you're joking! Why won't you say it? You're not leaving me, right? I'll let you win, but you're joking right? You're not going away right? Say it, please. Say you're not leaving.
[ The two are interrupted by their shudders as a shadowy cloaked figure appears on the other side of the table. ]
DEATH: LET THE POOR GIRL GO, HATTER.
SCP-8981-A: No, she's not going to leave me, Death. No. We were just playing a game, everything was fine. Tell me that she isn't leaving, right? This is a production, theater, c'est l'acte comédienne! Say it, say it now! Please, I can't wait a minute longer.
DEATH: CAN'T YOU SEE, NINNY? SHE'S BORED.
[ The Hatter chuckles. ]
SCP-8981-A: Oh, of course! How could I not have noticed? How could she be bored? We have had festivities and puzzles, and she won three rounds of Chinese checkers— see, Kafoa, I can admit it! You beat me! Three times! Isn't that fun? Isn't it fun to win? Look, see, she won, Death, winning is fun, so she can't be bored, so she's joking when she said she wants to leave! Who wants to leave when they're having fun and winning! Winners don't leave, they stay! Winners stay forever, winners play forever! And playing is fun! She's not bored, she's not leaving, she's my bestest friend in the whole world. She's having too much fun to leave—
DEATH: THEN TELL ME HATTER, ARE YOU HAVING FUN?
[ Kafoa flinches as the Hatter shrieks. ]
SCP-8981-A: Ha! Ha Ha Ha! You win, Death! You win, Taxes! You win, Time! All of you win, you beat me, Mads submits!
[ SCP-8981-A snaps his fingers, and Kafoa's bindings dissolve. She's dazed and unnerved by the hysterics in front of her: the Hatter is screaming "I lost" over and over again as he peels his fingernails and pulls his hair. Death is stoic and stalwart as he watches the Hatter explode and unfurl. Kafoa is still at first, unable to respond to her newly freed status. She is in disbelief. ]
DEATH: ISN'T THIS WHAT YOU WANTED? TO BE KING OF ALL THE TARTS?
SCP-8981-A: I lost! All my kingdom and toys and friends and hats and teeths and Yes Men for a stack of marbles and I lost! I lost it all, I lost it all— Who could ever want this? This is not my life!
DEATH: AND YET…
SCP-8981-A: And yet what!?
DEATH: WHAT DID YOU THINK IT MEANT TO LEAVE WONDERLAND BACK THEN?
SCP-8981-A: I thought it would be bigger and better and funner and more extravagant, and— where have all of my friends gone?
DEATH: HEAVY IS THE CROWN.
SCP-8981-A: No, no, you have to take me back, Death. I can't live in this world any more. Take me back to the tea and biscuits. Take me back to the Hare. Take me back. It's too much. I don't want to be king anymore. I don't want this party any more. Tell the brothers I didn't mean it. Tell the Foundation I didn't mean it. Tell Time I'm sorry and we can go back to playing jacks and drinking bergamot. Please, Death, make it stop. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. Take me back.
DEATH: YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK.
SCP-8981-A: Of course I can. You can make it happen, you can do it, I believe in you! We can, la-la-la, have fun, fun, fun! Who wants to be a king? Not me! Not ever again! I don't want to rule, or work. Let's just play forever, make it happen! Tell them I'm sorry, or kill them all, or invite them, I don't care, but take me back! Take me back, la-la-la! Take me back, la-la-la, take me backety-back-back!
DEATH: NO. WE HAD A DEAL, HATTER. YOU CANNOT GO BACK. LAY IN THIS BED YOU'VE MADE.
SCP-8981-A: What do you mean? You're so funny, Death. Ha-ha-ha! Backety-back-back… Kafoa, isn't he funny? Laugh with me, ha-ha-ha!
[ Kafoa looks frightfully at Death, beginning to get up from her chair. The Hatter stops laughing. ]
SCP-8981-A: Kafoa, laugh with me. Ha-ha…?
KAFOA: I have to go. I'm not supposed to be here. I'll send for a task force or something… I'm sorry.
[ Kafoa begins slowly creeping backwards, away from the checkerboard table. ]
SCP-8981-A: No, this is all a big joke! A dream, a nightmare even! I'll wake up right now! One, two, three— Mescaline!
[ The Hatter slaps himself violently. ]
DEATH: YOU'RE NOT GETTING OUT OF THIS. DEAL WITH IT.
[ Kafoa reaches the end of the steps within the hall, and makes a run for the exit. The last thing she hears is the Hatter screaming at the top of his lungs that he is readying "The Devouring Fuzzy Worm to kill them all" before the heavy wooden door slams shut behind her. ]
[ She runs down the spiral staircase into the main hall, where a large group of SCP-1048 instances are assembling explosive stuffed animals for use against the Wonder Bros' forces. The bears do not appear to pay attention to Kafoa, instead focusing on their task. As she exits the main hall, she passes by the banquet & ballroom where the festivities had taken place earlier: the previously tasteful interspersing of balloons had now turned into a sloppy overcrowding of inflated humans, at least fifty new ones clumped at the top and still wearing their Wonder Bros Inc corporate garb. Some of them wear frightened expressions, others notice Kafoa and look at her with silent, pleading eyes. She continues running. ]
[ Kafoa manages a hectic sprint, weaving through the capital and through the carts and wagons loaded with oil or war supplies. She can see large, angry, and coal-black smoke clouds in the distance where the rigs—the main theater of the war—no doubt lay. It was also where her extraction point was. It takes some rummaging around the eerily quiet shopping square, where once vendors had sold their livelihoods, to find a much older Wondermobile designed to run entirely on Dilly-Dally Oil. There was still enough supply in the wagon to get her to the fields. ]
[ She hops in, scanning the wagon quickly and more-or-less judging it to drive similar to an antique automobile, and quickly starts it. Kafoa is still dazed from what just transpired, driving through the thick billows of black and purple smoke that crept in from the fields, growing thicker and more pronounced the further from the town center she travels. The gregarious grasslands are choked in blankets of indigo so thick that it almost resembles a field of seaweed beneath the ocean waves. Nonetheless, she continues onwards, arriving at the foot of a collapsed rig that she identifies as the soft spot for extraction. Just before kicking into the loam, she's startled by a deafening explosion and otherworldly roar. ]
[ Kafoa turns to look towards the source of the sound, seeing a rig approximately 50 meters from her collapse with a terrible scraping of steel. The perpetrator: a colossal leviathan draped from the sky, adorned with radiant sunburst and lavender fur, hundreds of miles long and with many limbs of toile, plaid, and felt, a thin tapered head with two spheres of obsidian and marble that glimmered like impossible moons—what a kinder world might know as enormous googly-eyes. With terrible flourishes of its tail and limbs, it crushes the rigs and tears apart the Wonder Brothers' corporate soldiers to pieces, spraying out great fumes of nitrous gas. ]
[ Kafoa's mouth falls agape as she freezes, watching the creature that she now realizes must be the All-Consuming-Eternal-Devouring-0%-Polyester-Fuzzy-Worm the Hatter had mentioned earlier. This titanic creation, one fabricated by pieces of the Hatter's flesh, oil, and the weave of hundreds of builder-bears, the final weapon of mass destruction in Wondertainment's arsenal. It dutifully and violently strangles the trespassers where they stand, tenderly peeling and consuming them—cleaning up the mess after playtime. She simply watches as towers of steel crumple like foil under the worm, before harshly realizing her proximity to the slaughter. She kicks into the loam, striking until it crumbles, cracks, and gives way under weight, revealing the hole underneath that was to take her back. ]
[ She falls. ]
[ END LOG ]
Contact with Kafoa was re-established following her emergence from Access Point #22. She was promptly triaged and prepared for extraction, and debriefed shortly thereafter within secure Foundation custody.
Following the events surrounding Kafoa's escape and extraction, SCP-8981-A's leverage of a large, hostile entity against the mercenary forces of GoI-386 within SCP-8981 essentially rendered the conflict a strategic stalemate. GoI-386 still continues to engage in militant behavior towards the Foundation, although SCP-8981-A appears to periodically assist in containment & mitigation efforts via indiscriminate attacks on properties and employees of Wonder Bros Inc. from within SCP-8981. The Foundation has maintained an official stance of unofficial neutrality in the conflict, despite further and continued attempts at negotiation from SCP-8981-A.
Subsequent investigative efforts focusing on the legal and corporate history of GoI-386 have yielded little information on the origin and nature of Chambertin & Burgundy Wondertainment, the belligerent executive leadership of GoI-386. However, legal records originating from a small adoptions agency near Bristol, United Kingdom, indicated record of a Steven Rutherford being adopted by a "Mads Wondertainment" at some point during 1982, with a footnote indicating a name change on adoption to "Chambertin."