Chapter 1: What are the initial feelings of the narrator before the incident?
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I can hardly sit still, hardly breathe right. Part of me thinks this is all a ruse, like I'm about to be ambushed and grilled regarding the incident. It's a paranoid notion. Guilt is a hell of a thing. Sitting in a comfortable but too quiet waiting room, I think about the four dogs I have at home. Rosie, Gracie, Bear, and Roxy.
I hope they're doing okay without me, even though I've only been gone for a few hours. The new dog sitter seems nice enough. She'll take care of them. I almost didn't accept this job because of my dogs, but in the end, civic responsibility and not a little bit of guilt won out. My khaki-clad right leg bounces on its own, a perpetual motion machine I have no control over.
The receptionist cuts her eyes at me, again, a manicured eyebrow raising. I give her a weak smile. She goes back to typing on her computer. A moment later, Detective Sipes' office door opens. A man in a smart gray suit steps out, charcoal black tie tucked into a vest, a worn leather shoulder holster containing a pistol visible under his open suit jacket. My sidearm is in a hip holster.
I wonder idly if shoulder holsters are required for Foundation detectives. Ever since the incident, I've been thinking about getting one anyway. He extends a hand. Ackley, I'm Sipes. Nice to finally meet you in person. I shake his hand, standing. He's at least 20 years older than me, although he wears it well, with his shimmering gray-black beard and his immaculately styled head of hair. You too.
He releases my hand, his friendly expression morphing to consternation. Apparently they messed up. Didn't give you a shot you were supposed to get. But that's something we'll remedy lickety-split. Follow me. We leave the too-quiet waiting room and the receptionist's manicured eyebrows behind.
A short elevator ride and some small talk later, I find myself in a sterile environment, sitting on crinkly paper. A man who I assume is a doctor fills a syringe with some kind of clear liquid. The black lines of a tattoo are visible beyond the unfastened top button of his collared shirt. I try to recall if I've ever seen a doctor with tattoos before as he jabs a needle into my arm.
Sipes leans against the wall, talking about the case we're going to work. The fourth strange murder in the Blood District in the last week. The GOC boys are pretty much useless, so we've been called in to help. I'm sure they'll feel like we're stepping on their dicks, but what else can you expect from those morons? I mean, sorry. I say, Blood District? What's that? Sipes grins.
You must have sucked off someone important in your past life. You're getting a peek at the undercity on your first case? Damn, man. That's wild. I didn't go down there until I was working homicide for... shit. Three years, I think? It's the reason for that shot you're getting. Inoculation against some wild shit floating around down there. You're done, the doctor says. Might feel some soreness.
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Chapter 2: How does the narrator describe the chaotic situation at Site 33?
I follow along behind. The humanoid cop inclines his head at me and lets me through. In the basement, Sipes glances at me before addressing the plainclothes woman in the living room. Hello, nice to meet you. I'm Detective Sipes, and this is Officer-in-Training Ackley. The woman reluctantly shakes our hands and introduces herself.
Her name is Garmin, and when I look close, I see slits in the side of her neck that look like gills. They flutter as she breathes. You know the master? Garmin asks as she leads us to the bedroom of the small, sparsely furnished apartment. Yes, of course, Sipes says. The musician and artist. I raise an eyebrow. Never heard of them. Well, Garmin says, gesturing at the body on the bedroom floor.
That's him. Jesus, really? Sipes asks, staring at the mutilated corpse. Someone has torn not only the skin, but large portions of the man's facial features away. I can see deep into the nasal cavity, and the eyes are gone, leaving only delicate optical nerves that sit in the bloody sockets like nestling worms. What's left of the skin is in tatters around where the face once was,
The brass wants this solved now, Carmen says, which we can do on our own. But I guess having the Foundation's resources helping out isn't the worst thing in the world. I bet they do want it solved, Sypes says. How many undercity celebrities is that now? Four? That's right, Garmin says, checking her watch and then glancing toward the bedroom door. You expecting someone? Sipes asks.
Yes, my partner should already be here. He said he was only five minutes away when I talked to him ten minutes ago. Sipes grunts his acknowledgement, looking around the room. What other similarities have there been between killings? I mean, I already know about the, uh, face removal. Anything else? Garmin clears her throat, a noise that seems to escape from her gills. Yes, actually.
Each one of them received a message that looks to be from the killer. She pulls a plastic evidence bag from a pocket and hands it to Sipes, who gives it to me without looking. Time to earn your keep, he says. Tell me what you think. Inside the bag is a letter with a small block of text over a picture of a creepy looking humanoid figure with what appears to be a burlap sack over its head.
The sack has a zippered mouth shaped into a long smile. The eyes are diamond-shaped black lenses sewn into the burlap. In the blurry picture, the figure wears all black and appears, judging by its build, to be male. I turn my attention to the text and read it aloud. Tell one, tell all, the Tattletail has come. He'll find you wherever you are, no matter where you roam.
He'll rip your fucking face off and wear it all the way home. His smile is considered nothing but a dream. His teeth all clacked together, but they are not what they seem. If you search for Tattletail, the last noise you ever make will be a fucking scream. Well, that's pleasant, Sype says. A threat? Garmin nods. Seems like it.
do you think sipes asks me i'm not sure i read the words over again but before i reach the end a shout startles me it's the cop from outside yelling for help garmin dashes out first followed closely by sipes and me we rush up the stairs to the street and down the block weapons drawn half a block down we turn into a narrow alley my shoes crunch on broken glass from a shattered light
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Chapter 3: What happens during the confrontation with Marler?
You could have handled it better. Now you know that. And now I know you have what it takes to join my team. Thanks to Tattletail. He smiles. Really? Really. You start tomorrow. Now, go home and see your dogs. As I get up from the bed, the doctor, who was leaning against the counter, says, Don't forget to take your bandage off when you get home. Need to let the wound breathe.
I look down at my arm, remembering the Scooby-Doo bandage he put on. The vivid memory of me ripping Tattletail's mask off comes to mind. Cute, I think, smiling. Real fucking cute. SCP-2744 is a fictional anomalous humanoid used in simulacrum testing of certain Foundation operatives.
Any operative failing this test will be dealt with on a case-by-case basis as the O5 Council sees fit, with the minimum outcome being complete amnesticization to erase any knowledge of the simulacrum test. Those operatives who pass the test are sworn to secrecy. As of this writing, Dr. Kester, who designed the test, is the only one allowed to perform it on operatives.