It Only Needs a Puddle | SCP-1128

SPEAKER_1 (0:07)

Munson sits outside on the black crate with his back against the bridge wall, his sunglasses wrapped tight around his face, keeping the bright sunlight from making his headache and nausea worse.

Even with the sunglasses, he still has his eyes closed, and he listens wearily as Wash and Knox argue inside the bridge of their team's main assault boat.

Somewhere out in the bright blue water, Treat and Crest are patrolling in their small speedsters.

If Munson concentrates, he can hear the motors far out there over the water, but concentrating makes his head hurt even worse than the sun. So what? We do nothing? Wash snaps. Munson smirks. He knows that tone. Wash has already worked up, well passed, pissed off. He knows that all Knox can do now is try to keep Wash from completely blowing his top.

It's an anomaly that we're supposed to have nothing to do with. Knox insists. As long as we never hear the description, we won't be in danger. Who cares about danger? Wash snarls. We're the Sea Devils. We eat danger for breakfast.

Munson's stomach roils at the thought of food. He erps a little, and presses the back of his gloved hand to his mouth until the nausea fades.

What I am saying is our mission is to keep the area contained and not let anyone within the perimeter. We are not to engage with the anomaly.

No matter how many people it kills, D-Class subjects are not people, Knox replies.

Munson hears the conflict in the commander's voice. D-Class may have worse fates than all Foundation personnel, sure, but they're still people. Knox's attitude is a product of the job. When you run and gun for the Foundation, dehumanization becomes a prerequisite.

Hey, we have activity below the surface in Zone 13 of the grid. Crest calls over the comms. Was there a scheduled experiment for today? I didn't get the freaking memo if there was.

Wash and Knox end their little tiff and step outside the bridge, both shielding their eyes as they stare out over the water.

Zone 13 is the other way, Munson says, and hefts his bulk up off the crate. He groans and pops his back, then takes a few deep breaths before he shoves past Knox and Wash. Let's go see what the fuss is about.

The three Foundation operators make their way around the small boat to the starboard side. Munson points to 11 o'clock. That's 13, he says and erps again.

Damn, Munson, cover your mouth, Wash complains. You smell like something pickled in booze died and crawled down your throat.

The three men focus on where Munson is pointing. Far out is a small speedboat running tight circles.

Wash grumbles, I'm not seeing anything. Me neither. Knox admits. Yeah, well, Crest caught a bit of the anomaly's description a couple of weeks ago. Now he thinks every wave or bubble is the damn monster. Munson says. He steps back and leans against his side of the bridge. It warped his perception somewhat, but I don't think he's had full exposure, so he should be safe. Knox and Wash turn and glared Munson. What?

Crest has had exposure and didn't report it. Knox snaps. He did report it. I watched him send the email to you. He copied the brass on it too, just to cover his ass. He got the all clear to keep operating with the Sea Devils. I never saw that email. Knox says with barely controlled rage. Munson shrugs. He sent it? Yeah, well, if he did, who read it? Wash asks. Munson shrugs again. Hey guys, are you seeing this? There's something freaking huge down below. I mean huge, and it looks like it's getting closer to the surface. Do not describe the... Knox starts the order, but it's too late. Crest is already barking out a description of what he is seeing. Munson pulls the comms piece from his ear, but he heard enough that he knows he and the rest of the Sea Devils are in a world of trouble, that they are now infected.

Call it in now, Wash says to Knox. We need immediate extraction.

I know, just give me a minute to think this through. I called the wrong jerk, and we could land in bigger trouble. Munson realizes something and puts his ear piece back in. Treat, you out there? Come in. Munson calls over the comms. Treat, what's your location? Knox and Wash turn and study Munson. He holds up a finger. He calls for Treat again. They wait, but their teammate does not respond. Only a burst of cruel static assaults their ears.

Okay, he either got his ear piece out in time, or he just hasn't put it back in. Munson says, Or he heard it and has already been eaten by the damn beast. Wash says, Don't jump to conclusions. Knox says, We should head to shore. Munson suggests, Bring everyone in and regroup until we know the extent of the danger.