Capítulo 119: Four old men -115
"A Diner? All this for that? Or is there something inside it?" Natasha was rather sure this wasn't just Graves attempting to invite her on a date at this remote diner, so she figured there had to be some SCP connection. But she couldn't see the big deal in someone so remote like this.
"SCP-1295, Keter class SCP with the potential to wipe out all life on earth if not dealt with carefully." Graves responded with a rather grave tone, and Natasha fully understood why.
Natasha was still very new to the whole SCP world thing. But she knew that while many Keter class ones were dangerous, it wasn't a requirement, like with 835, which she had seen before. That one wasn't that dangerous but just hard to contain.
This one, however, sounded like the real deal, something that could cause one of those XK class events. So she was on edge, knowing she was so close to something so dangerous.
"Any chance you can elaborate on this SCP after throwing that bombshell?"
He had likely expected that question as Graves just nodded before starting his explanation. "SCP-1295, also known as Meg's diner, appears to be just a regular diner. And by all accounts, it is just a normal diner, except how remote it is."
"The people working there are perfectly normal people who have no idea about the anomalous, they are by every possible metric just normal people. The food as will is nothing special. All around, normal and boring." He slowly explained.
"The true SCP object isn't really the diner itself, but four of its guests. They are why we are here, why an outpost is being set up, why the Foundation is paying people to eat here every day, just to ensure that this place remains open for business."
Natasha couldn't help but try and look into the diner and search for any suspicious looking customers.
"Some people have taken to refer to them as the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Though I personally wouldn't go that far, at least not without confirmation from the top." He said and handed her a small holographic datapad.
"Are you not using the trusty paper today?" she couldn't help but ask as she quickly opened the device and accessed the files within. Graves didn't even bother answering her as he just gave her time to read.
The device contained just four files, labeled SCP-1295-1, SCP-1295-2, SCP-1295-3, and SCP-1295-4. Each file was small but contained important information.
SCP-1295-1 was an elderly white male. From the picture, Natasha didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but the remaining content of his file was rather chilling. If the man were ever to be prevented access or removed from the diner against his will, he would begin to affect anyone within a radius around him.
It started with just a small area of 100 meters around him, where everyone became extremely lethargic and showed a complete lack of self-preservation instincts. Those two effects combined were enough to kill anyone caught in the area.
As they grew tired, unwilling to move, and without self-preservation, they would just lay down and die of thirst, too tired to move and get anything to drink. Worse still, the area would grow with time, possibly suddenly affecting the entire world.
SCP-1295-2 was also an elderly white male. Again, his picture was nothing interesting, though his effect or power was different. Firstly, it was slower to manifest, and the area of effect was five times as large as that of SCP-1295-1.
Those under his effect would lose the ability to distinguish between edible and inedible matter and would often endanger themselves or attempt to consume dangerously unhealthy substances. The effect would grow by a full kilometer every hour, again until possible, covering the entire plant.
SCP-1295-3 was another normal-looking man. His effects were also unique and differed from the others in various ways. For example, his effect began to manifest immediately after being removed or denied access to the diner.
The effect was also dangerously tricky to notice, as it killed all microbial lifeforms in those caught in it. That didn't sound bad, but it would be lethal if left untreated, and the treatment wasn't easy or fast. Even then, it was not certain if it would succeed.
So, while the other effects would end as soon as someone left the affected area or the object was allowed back into the diner, those affected by this object would instead still be in danger and need extensive medical aid.
Other than that, it would also grow in the area as time went by, meaning that many could be affected without them knowing it, and once they did notice something was wrong with their ability to digest food properly, their condition might already be untreatable.
Finally, SCP-1295-4 was also just an old white man, and his effect was pretty much the exact opposite of SCP-1295-1, in that those affected would experience a sharp increase in self-preservation instincts, to the point of paranoia and acute hypochondria.
The condition quickly becomes fully debilitating as those afflicted by it will refuse to perform any action that might endanger them no matter how minor a danger. Interestingly, it was noted that if someone were affected by both SCP-1295-1 and SCP-1295-4, they would enter a comatose state.
Reading the file, Natasha quickly noted a few things and added to what Graves had said about the four horsemen. "SCP-1295-1 is death, SCP-1295-2 is famine, SCP-1295-3 is pestilence, and SCP-1295-4 is war?"
"That's a working theory, but it hasn't been confirmed by the higher-ups yet." Graves affirmed while nodding.
Natasha digested the implications of the information she had just read. The profiles on the holographic datapad painted a clear and alarming picture of the potential devastation that these seemingly innocuous individuals could unleash.
Her gaze flickered back to the diner, where ordinary life buzzed unknowingly around these cataclysmic forces. "So, our job is to just sit here, eat pancakes, and make sure they keep chatting about the weather?" she asked wryly, though the gravity of the situation was not lost on her.
"Essentially, yes," Graves replied. "Though I doubt either you and I will be doing that, other agents will be working here at the new outpost to serve as both waitresses and customers."
Natasha felt that made sense. "What happens if all four get denied entrance for long enough for all four effects to begin?" she couldn't help but ask.
"In that case, the Foundation will be sending new staff down here to replace the dead one cause everyone at the outpost will die, and we can only hope that it will be enough for them to once again be able to enter."
Graves's response sent a chill down Natasha's spine, emphasizing the precarious balance they were tasked with maintaining. The theoretical devastation was not just a threat—it was a ticking time bomb that they couldn't afford to ignore.
She realized that every interaction in that diner could potentially determine the fate of the planet. "And our protocol if we suspect interference or intentional sabotage?" Natasha probed further, her mind shifting to strategic planning and threat assessment.
"We increase surveillance, both physically and electronically. Any unusual activity in or around the diner triggers an immediate response from our intervention teams. We also have contingency plans that include diplomatic negotiations with local authorities to ensure that the diner remains operational and accessible at all times," Graves explained, his voice steady but serious.
Natasha nodded, understanding the layers of security and the weight of their responsibility. It wasn't just about guarding a location; it was about guarding a delicate balance that could unravel at any moment.
She really didn't envy the Foundation; its mission and work were truly immense. To know that these four could possibly end humanity if they desired, yet being completely unable to do anything about it.
It was like sitting on a bomb, ready to go off at any moment. All you could do was try to sit as still as possible and hope nothing happened. She knew that Fury, someone who liked control, would absolutely lose his mind at something like this.
"So, why call me out here? I'm currently undercover, and this doesn't seem like an emergency?"
"I'm not the one that made that call. However, I was told to tell you that you could use this information as you see fit." He said, just as confused as to why he and Natasha were sent out here as she was.
It kinda felt like yet another test, but it was also entirely possible that it wasn't. she was fairly sure that the one who gave this order was Ricci. This meant that there was a high chance that this somehow was connected with the mission to be a double agent within Shield.
So, was she being given blanket permission to leak information about this? To earn trust? To make Shield work hard on containing this object? But it wasn't really right; this was surely too dangerous to entrust to Shield.
"Anyway, want to grab something to eat before the long drive back home? I heard the food here isn't half bad." Graves said, lighting the mood a little.
Natasha managed a thin smile at Graves' attempt to lighten the mood, her mind still racing with the implications of their conversation. "Sure, why not? Might as well see what normal looks like in a place that's anything but," she responded, her tone dry but accepting.
As they entered the diner, the mundane chatter and clinks of dishes stood in stark contrast to the grave discussion they had just outside. The normalcy of the scene was almost surreal, given the knowledge of what truly lingered at the tables. Natasha's trained eyes scanned the diner, noting the four elderly men, now just faces in a crowd, whose very presence held the potential for catastrophic consequences.
Sitting at a corner table with Graves, she ordered a coffee and pancakes, a simple choice in an otherwise complex situation. The server, unaware of the underlying tension, smiled and moved on, leaving them in a bubble of heavy silence.
Graves, sensing her contemplation, spoke up, "It's a lot to take in, isn't it? Knowing what we know and seeing how ordinary everything appears."
"It's more than a lot. It's overwhelming," Natasha admitted, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. "We're sitting on a powder keg. And the worst part? We're forced to just... watch it. There's no proactive measure strong enough to neutralize the threat without risking triggering it."
"That's the nature of our work," Graves said. "Containment isn't always about neutralizing; sometimes, it's just about managing the status quo as safely as possible."
Natasha nodded, her gaze drifting over to the so-called Four Horsemen quietly enjoying their meals. "Management until it's no longer manageable. And then what? We step in when it's potentially too late?"
Graves didn't answer immediately, his eyes also on the elderly men. "The Foundation isn't as helpless as it might seem, it's just that as long as it's possible to do nothing, there is no need to do anything. I imagine that something like those four would be costly to truly deal with."
Natasha let the comment sink in, understanding the delicate dance between risk and intervention that the Foundation constantly navigated. "Costly in more ways than one," she murmured, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed the innocuous interactions at the neighboring table.
Graves nodded solemnly. "Exactly. The Foundation operates under the principle of 'secure, contain, protect,' not 'destroy, disrupt, or provoke.' As long as these entities remain passive and their conditions are met, the threat is managed. It's containment at its most psychological—balancing human behaviors with anomalous potential."
Their food arrived, and for a moment, the conversation shifted away from the weighty issues at hand. Natasha took a bite of her pancakes, finding them surprisingly good despite the underwhelming ambiance.
The ordinariness of the diner, juxtaposed with the danger it housed, lent an eerie quality to their meal. After a few minutes of eating in silence, Natasha revisited the conversation. "If the situation changes, what do we do then?"
Graves finished the food in his mouth and slurped on his milkshake, acting as if nothing was out of the normal. "We try to help them, get them inside, remove what's stopping them. If more is needed, all we can do is report the situation; I'm not allowed to know about the emergency protocols."
Natasha nodded slowly, processing Graves' words. The limitations on his knowledge were a clear indicator of the compartmentalization practices within the Foundation, ensuring that information was only as widespread as absolutely necessary.
"It must be difficult," she commented, "operating in the dark to some extent, relying on protocols you're not fully privy to."
Graves shrugged, a resigned smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Part of the job. We trust that those above us have the bigger picture in mind. It's about doing our part effectively, so the whole system works."
Natasha took another sip of her coffee, her eyes scanning the diner. She watched as an elderly couple entered, greeted cheerily by the staff. The normalcy of the diner scene was a stark contrast to the potential chaos that could be unleashed at any moment from the unassuming men they monitored.
"I guess it is just part of the job." She almost whispered as she went back to her food. Eating in silence while thinking about her role in all this, and what she should do with the information she had been given today.
A/N
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