Enter Dreams

March 1st, 20██

They've been talking for ages.

Blacked-out talking heads on screens, save for the squirrely face of Doctor Eriksson. I tune in every now and then but find that my mind is elsewhere. They haven't directed a question towards me, nor referenced me in any form since the meeting started. Ino sits off to my right, the far edge of the table. The papers before him are copies of my papers. They illustrate just how dire things have become, how hopeless our situation is.

It's been about a month since Operation Teaparty, but it feels like it's been a year. Between psych appointments and the internal meetings, I haven't seen Claire for longer than moment. We see each other in the hallways, sometimes. She used to have a light in her eyes, even when working under asses like O'Donnell.

Now?

"... Sarkic infiltration on a scale unprecedented..."

I know this is all weighing on her. She had family in Atlanta.

"... unable to retaliate effectively..."

I've been fiddling with the crucifix for the majority of the meeting. I set it beside the coffee cup and sink my head into my hands.

"... we have any countermeasures that can be deployed? Utilize any SCPs to combat the spread?"

"Do you have any suggestions?"

It takes me a while to figure out that question is directed at me. I look up from my coffee to find that woman, "Elizabeth", is staring through me. These types of meetings are way beyond my paygrade. I don't even have clearance to talk to these people, and I've been pulled into meeting with ALL of them.

Directors, present on screens around the conference room. Some screens are dark. Sites all along the Eastern seaboard have been unreachable. Reports of on-site nuclear weapon detonations in at least three. They don't tell us which ones. The upper staff is sticking to the narrative that these are just rumors, but we all know what's really happening out there. The United States Government is in the midst of total collapse.

The geopolitical climate has become a geopolitical battlefield. Nations are blaming these outbreaks on each other, some using it as an excuse to go to war, some just trying to find someone to blame. The entire world is descending into anarchy, and there's no stopping it. I pick up my papers and read aloud what I was instructed to share with the council.

"Our research shows that the infection is not airborne. Transmissions are predominantly physical contact, access to the bloodstream. Water can be a transmission vector. Reports from MTF teams highlight fire as an effective measure for removing infestations on the ground level. Conventional firearms are effective against individual SCP-2480-2 entities, but as a greater whole, small arms will not be able to combat hordes of the infected."

Combat my ass.

We're months behind them. By the time Provincetown was secured, there were outbreaks in Boston, Providence, Birmingham, Nashville, Atlanta and Charlotte. We were waiting on lab results from Site-234 when we heard they went dark. No idea if there's anyone still alive there. The entire situation had evolved several times before we could even see what was happening.

Elizabeth opens her mouth to speak, but I speak first.

"The infected that show symptoms are problematic, but it's the asymptomatic infected that present the biggest issue."

Elizabeth glares at me. I look down to my papers. A moment passes.

"Go on," a male voice speaks suddenly. I inhale sharply.

"It's better for Doctor Eriksson to explain," I force the words out under the glare of Elizabeth.

"Well, SCP-2480-2 identifies the common outcome of infection, being the seemingly mindless... drones, if you will. They're easy to dispatch and handle. While the pathogen is anomalous, the common infected are easily identified, and some of their behaviors can be explained by biology. Aside from the odd chance at mutations related to the spread of the disease."

He takes a long, strained breath and adjusts his glasses.

"SCP-2480-3 identifies infected that have a higher intelligence and creativity compared to the 2480-2's. They are capable of planning, infiltration, problem-solving, speech... they can effectively recall information from the host brain, even when that brain has mutated to significant degree. They are the root cause of the infections in Boston, New York, Los Vegas, Los Angeles. To have one of the upper staff succumb to the infection would be catastrophic."

"Our working theory is Site-234 went offline because of them," I say.

The room goes silent again.

"Are you implying that both Directors of Site-234 were... SCP-2480-3?" A female voice quietly asks.

"Maybe... one, or both, it could have been the head of security, or someone with sufficient clearance. According to the information I have available, on-site staff were not permitted to leave the site after the 'initial' infection in Birmingham. No reports or documentation came from Site-234 regarding any infected in the weeks prior to their blackout. I think it's highly likely. I can't think of any other possibility."

"Is it possible to determine if someone is hiding an infection?" The male voice asks again.

Doctor Eriksson raises a hand on his screen.

"According to the limited testing we've done, SCP-2480-3 instances seem to be unable to produce white blood cells. They also have a significantly colder body temperature compared to baseline, but that is information gleaned from four total subjects. Approaching a 2480-3 instance with this information can cause a Class-3 Mutagenic Event, wherein they will immediately become hostile and drop the façade. Rapid mutation results in combat-ready structures emerging from the host body in both field and limited lab trials."

"What about SCP-2480-1? Do we have any information on that front?" The woman says.

"He revealed that this is not any effort on his part. He endorses the actions carried out by his followers, but claims he has no knowledge of the plan, nor of the contagion," Elizabeth finishes.

There is a heavy silence that descends on the room. No one has any answers for why this got out of hand, or how they all missed it. I'm glad to say that this fuck-up isn't mine, but it's a fuck-up all the same.

Elizabeth clears her throat.

"I've spoken with the rest of the Council. Project Prospero is underway. You will each receive instructions when the materials arrive."

Council? The O5 Council? Who is this woman? The screens go black and I'm left in the dark with Elizabeth. Slowly, the fluorescent lights kick on and bathe the room in a sickly white.

I look toward her, a question on my tongue.

"Above your clearance level, Liam Webb."

She collects her things from the table and walks out, leaving me alone. Odd how she didn't want me revealing the whole truth of the situation. Is it internal politics? What would she have to gain from keeping us in the dark? Is there more to this thing that we don't know about? Could she be-

"You know, Liam," Ino speaks, "The stake that sticks up gets hammered down."

I had forgotten he was here. I look towards him and I see him rifling through the papers. Somewhere in that stack was the Operation report, no doubt. He looks over to me and gives me a small and sincere smile. He looks much older than when I first saw him in the hangar. This entire debacle has certainly put a great deal of stress on everyone. I'm only twenty-seven, but I feel like I'm thirty-five.

"You have done good work, Liam, even if they do not appreciate it."

"You know this is the end, right?" I ask Ino.

"I know. The work should not be overlooked, however, nor the good people who have worked."

I sit there in silence for a few moments, contemplating his statement, this plague. I stand up and grab my mug, as well as this cheap suit jacket around the back of my chair. I look to Director Ino and give him a small nod, standing in the doorway.

"Thank you, sir," I say, but my heart's not in it.

Liam's biological clock was still skewed from his time at the Foundation.

He felt more awake during the night than the day, but he'd always been something of a night-owl. The fatigue of incessant questioning from various castle staff was weighing down upon him. Physically, he was tired, likely a part of the healing process. Sleeping was also a department in which he had little luck. When he did, the nightmares came. He don't bother trying to voice his mental health concerns to them, that may be a bridge too far.

The translation crystal worked like a charm, and indeed it was one, the only issue being that the creator had pestered for the past three days, a torrent of endless questions flowing outwards from her mouth with no end.

"What the buck do you mean no magic?!"

Their conversation earlier in the day ended with her screaming in his face. Lyra Heartstrings seemed nice, but made odd faces every time he took something or demonstrated the mobility of my hands. She was noticeably sweating, something Liam found strange to see on a furred creature, and she excused herself. She took lots of notes, moreso than Twilight Sparkle did.

Nothing here made sense. All the locations tended to be pony-related puns, which made sense in English, but do they operate in that manner in Equiish? And what the hell is a weather factory? The question brought Liam anxiety.

Liam flexed his newly freed arm, the sling now a reminder. The dull throb had disappeared entirely, but Liam waited until Doctor Orchid gave him the all clear to remove the cast. They gave him temporary accommodations in the castle by order of Celestia herself. While it had been said to him that the sisters rule together, it was clear that one has a much larger portion of the duties. Princess Luna had some sort of ability to enter dreams, that much he know, but the full extent of her capabilities was still beyond him.

It was clear to Liam that magic was something he would just going to have to accept as a part of his life now, despite his inability to quantify it or understand it for the time being. Princess Celestia, from what he had seen and heard, had a mastery over magic that few others possessed; she raised the sun. With power like that, he was not certain what was stopping her from global domination. She stopped by to speak with him earlier, still stand-offish, but he was not sure if that was just the family in general. He had yet to see Princess Luna since we spoke last week, a combination of his own disinterest in seeing much of anyone and her own royal duties.

He had set to work writing down notes for Sparkle. He thought it best to have minimal interaction with her face-to-face. At the moment, he was writing about Earth's infrastructure, doing his best to let her know that he had very little information regarding the intricacies of the system, but providing enough to hopefully get her off his back for the time being. Power grid, dependence on electrical energy, plumbing, water and just about everything else he could think of. It occurred to him that she would send him a letter back asking him to go into detail about every little thing. She was not going to like his reply, but he could only answer to the best of his abilities, and in his mind, those abilities were insufficient to satisfy her.

The geopolitics of this world were also equally confusing. There were many different sentient species that were all sharing the planet, establishing their own governments and going about their business. Some were off-shoots of equines, like zebras, some are "fucking dragons," he writes. He stares at the text on the page for awhile longer before sighing and striking through the line. It was surprising, but then again, there was already so much that defied expectations in Equestria. He needed to learn how to take these things in stride. He cast the pen to the side, looking over the desk and his notes. Anything to keep him occupied.

A knock at the door, a small bang. It shook Liam out of his skin, and he took a second to evaluate if it actually happened. If it wasn't another one his nightmares, come to haunt him awake. Such a thing shouldn't be possible, but all bets are off in this new world. The knock comes again. He took a deep breath and walked over to open it. A guardspony stood there, Flash Sentry. Most of the guards tend to break their composure when he loomed about, but this one's a professional. He had kept the horror contained for the most part. He has an orange coat and blue hair beneath his helmet.

'These color combinations aren't natural, are they?' Liam thought.

"Mister Webb?" he asked pensively, looking up at him.

"Yeah, what's up Sentry?"

He looked down the hall and then back to Liam.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

Liam nodded and let him inside. The room was very nice, marble flooring, a dark red rug in the center. White walls with ornate paintings on them, golden trim around the room. The shower had been a godsend as well. He took a seat on one of the couches in the far side of the room near the window, a spot of moonlight splashing down onto the cushions.

"All I'm good for is answering questions, so go ahead," he said.

Flash stood on the rug and looked at the walls for a moment before fixating on Liam. He coughed and removed his helmet, tucking it under his wing.

"Do you have any friends on your world?"

Liam's stare went blank as he internalized the statement with no small amount of hurt.

"Well... lemme contextualize my answer before I give it. Do you have friends in the Royal Guard?"

He nodded his head slowly after thinking on it for a second.

"Before you joined as well, right?"

He nodded again.

"I was part of an organization called the Foundation. It wasn't a country with borders, but for all intents and purposes, it was a global superpower. The Foundation was responsible for keeping things locked up that were too dangerous to be exposed to humankind, and as a result, you weren't allowed to have friends outside the business. Lot's of cases where they make them forget you ever existed, family too."

"Really?"

Liam sighed and leaned back some, rolling his cast on the armrest.

"Family, friends, they were considered a weakness that could be exploited. If the wrong people knew you had ties to the Foundation, they would do bad things to get an in. Happened too many times to be allowed. They assessed it based on how important you were to Foundation operations, how much you knew."

"By Celestia... did they...?"

"They did. Sent me a memo when they did it, like it was all routine. I didn't have much family, but the guys from school, my mom..." he swallowed down the lump in his throat.

"Anyways, why do you ask?"

Sentry readjusted his grip on his helmet, "well, you seem sad, Mister Webb. Everypony needs friends... if we could get you back to your world, would you be able to see them?"

Liam's vision tightened and he couldn't find his way out. There was a ringing in his ears, sirens pulled from memory, echoing off the walls of his skull. His breath hitched and he could not hear much, save for his own heartbeat. There was an icy frost spreading through his chest, freezing everything it touched.

Gnawing, clawing, scraping, burning.

"Mister Webb, are you okay?"

He cleared his throat and remembered to breathe, gently bopping his cast against the couch. He looked out the window and then back to Flash, forcing a half-smile. He could feel sweat on my scalp, the back of his neck. His body felt heavy and his heart pumped faster.

Killing, screaming, crying, shouting.

"No, Sentry. I wouldn't be able to see them. I'd like to, though."

Flash rubbed his hoof against the marble, looking apologetic, "sorry, Mister Webb. Well, if you need anything, I'm stationed outside, just give me a holler, my shift ends in the early morning."

"Okay," Liam murmured.

"Call me Flash, Mister Webb," he said with a smile, then trotted out.

Melting, rotting, breaking, bleeding.

When the door closed, it felt like all the warmth had left the room. The whole world got a little bit darker. That lump came back and Liam stared at the crucifix on the desk. He took the bottle of wine stashed in the lower drawer, standing to collect it. He stared down at the silver cross, thinking on death and sacrifice. He moved by the window and put his back to the wall, sinking lower and lower to the floor. The moonlight bounced off the silver and he lost himself in it. The weight was crashing down on him again. He was losing it, but it had been a long time since he'd had it together.

'Go back to the desk. Write something, put your head into work. Don't do it,' he thought.

Gnawing, clawing, scraping, burning.

'Please, get up and get your mind off this... maybe just one sip to calm the nerves.'

He dropped the cross into his lap and took a swig of the wine; red, fruity, old. Not at all something he'd drink. He hardly drank at all, but he felt like a beer would be appropriate. He would drink gasoline if it made him feel any better. The wine went down his throat is greedy, burning gulps, broken up by curses. It wasn't long and he lost himself in the wine, half the bottle's down his gullet.

Killing, screaming, crying, shouting.

It tears him in half. I can't save him. Richards. I pull on my hair.

The world was swimming and the moonlight on the marble seemed to be the only thing he could see, that he could hold onto. Not for long. The bottle found his lips again. The bottle again, and again, and again. Every drink numbs his body, but his mind doesn't quiet. Not when the tears come, not when he prays. Never was a godly sort. The bottle felt light. His lips again. The window. His guts were twisting up and his breath was ragged. He had never been good with heights.

"You know this is the end, right?"

He stood and pressed his hands against the cold glass. Equestria, sprawled about before him, a foreign land. The trees are dark blobs against the gray hills. He looked down to see a river, far below, down underneath the suspended castle. The waters were clear, a dark riverbed beneath with silhouettes darting around almost invisibly. How quick he would join them, letting this window swing wide and falling. How quick it would be, painless. Maybe the waters would sweep him along, down that current, away from this place. How quickly would he be forgotten? He went for another drink and closed his eyes as the last drops go down his throat. It's just a jump, just a little fall.

Melting, rotting, breaking, bleeding.

His fingers grasp at the window latch. Just a jump. Dying.

Nuclear detonation, estimated loss of life-

There's a rapping at the window, and outside, Princess Luna flying there. She could see the bottle in his hands, eyes looking into his with concern. He fumbled with the latch in his drunken state and let her in. The curtains blew into the room with a great breeze and he stumbled his way over to the opposite wall, slumping against it, sliding back down to the floor. Luna flew in and her hooves tapped along the marble floor in her landing. He turned head away and felt the bottle drift from his grasp, pulled away by her magic.

"Liam?"

"It's all over, all over for me," he babbled. His mind couldn't keep up with his conscience, something his body definitely noticed.

"Liam, what art thou-"

"What's it fucking look like, Luna?! Huh?" he flailed his arms about in a wild drunken gesture.

Luna turned away towards the door, finding Flash watching the scene in concern.

"Leave us, Guard," she said quickly, then turned back to Liam. The door shut quickly.

She approached slowly, eyeing his limbs. Her wings twitched and withdrew. She set the bottle down on the desk and he can't stop the frown spilling across his face. He could hardly feel it, but he knew he was a wreck. He pulled his legs inwards and pull them tighter with his arms, sinking his head into the safety of his knees. He took in a shuddering breath.

Gnawing, clawing, scraping, burning...

"Liam," she said softly. He looked up to her through his fluid vision, but her eyes were locked onto his. That much he could see. They could see the truth of it, what he had become, what he couldn't help but be. It threatens to rip him apart. That she has to see him like this. He looked away and sobbed, what composure he had left melting away. She moved closer, hoofbeats drawing nearer to him. He didn't want to look. He felt her hoof touch his shoulder with a gentle shake.

"I'm al-one, Luna, I'm so a-alone," he rasped.

"Liam, look at us."

He could feel her breath on him.

"I-I can't... I don't deserve to be here, Luna."

"Look at me," she said quietly.

He looked up from his knees, tears clouding his vision, but he sees her sitting there in front of him. She hovers a hoof before him, to touch him, and he is destroyed when it does. He collapsed and went limp, sobbing uncontrollably and painfully. She draped her wings over him and embraces him as he lied there and cried. He turned and sank his face into her chest, his tears soaking her fur.

"It should've been anyone else, why did everyone else have to go? I'm no one, I-I..."

She rubbed his shoulder with her hoof and shushed him as he shook in her grasp. Her breath spilled across his back, down his neck, and he grabbed at her desperately. He needed her. He needed her to be here, he needed her stay. His arms wrapped around her midsection and sank into her coat, hugging her tightly. His legs kicked out with sharp jolts, shoes sliding on the floor, unable to get any traction. He twists and weeps, her wings folding closer, pulling him deeper into her embrace.

He was broken. He knew it, and now she did too.

"Don't leave, please," he whimpered, "don't leave me alone. Please God don't leave me alone, I can't..."

"We art going nowhere, Liam, shhh, shhh..." she whispered, holding him.

She was so warm, and in that moment, she was the only thing keeping him alive.

"Please," he gasped.

She stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, trying to calm him, then she breaks away. He reached out like an infant, searching for comfort, security. She shushed him and brought her horn down to his forehead, and the world seemed to fade away into blue and black warmth.

"How is he, Luna?"

The plane of dreams can be a treacherous place, doubly so for the creature Luna has in her grasp. She makes his sleep a dreamless one for now, keeping him tucked safely away in the embrace of her wings. His mutterings and murmurings cease and he goes still, breathing slowed. She breathes an unsteady sigh, looking over to her sister standing in the doorway. Celestia stands with her head dipped under the doorframe, looking in with a sadness across her face.

"Not well, sister. He hath nightmares during his waking hours, unable to rest. What We've seen within his mind would be enough to drive anypony to madness," she says lowly. The effects of the visions upon her were enough to keep her in her room for days, and it was only a glimpse. Celestia had not pressed her sister for details, but from what Liam had said, she took comfort in the fact she had not seen it for herself.

Celestia steps into the room and closes the door behind her. She breathes deeply and notices the bottle placed on the desk. She tuts to herself and sits beside Luna, draping a wing over her. Celestia probes her cheek with her tongue and looks over the human, scraggly and unkempt, eyes swollen from tears.

"Dost thou believeth he still presents a threat?"

She sighs, looking over to the open window. Spilled wine on the floor nearby.

"He certainly has the potential, but at this point, that's a question I should be asking you, Lulu. I've already told you what the humans were like when you were a filly... but this one does seem different. Father wouldn't take the chance."

Luna looks over him and he unconsciously squeezes her hoof, much like a foal. His face is serene, his palms are damp. He smells like wine and sweat, ink and parchment. She looks over to the desk to see scattered notes across the tabletop and the floor nearby.

"Father was a cautious fool, Tia. 'Twas his undoing, thou hast said so thineself."

"Perhaps."

Luna hums. She flips her mane from her face and prods Liam's hair with her muzzle in a comforting gesture. She turns back to look at her sister with tired eyes.

"How was thine meeting with the delegation from Griffonia?"

Celestia chuckles and says, "it's called Griffonstone now, of the Griffon Kingdom." Luna sticks her tongue out at her and Celestia giggles. She closes the window with her magic, stifling the chilled breeze in the room. She hums herself. Soon, she should have Luna take some lessons on current affairs in the world, catch-up on the history gone by.

"It went rather well, all things considered. They wish to extend their borders to the East, and they want assistance on an expedition further into the Graymourne ruins. They will not like hearing that Cobblerock is under our protection, but I pledged some forces for their expedition. I'm having tea with Ambassador Greatbeak tomorrow evening to work out the details."

"... 'tis good news, then?"

"Aye," Celestia says, wiggling her brows. Luna pouts.

Celestia rises and stretches her hind legs, bowing forward much like a cat. She cranes her neck to look down to her sister, a small smile on her face. Her protection of the strange creature was fascinating.

"You said he wanted to be your friend?"

Luna nods and smiles softly, then her smile drips away into a knowing sadness, her eyes tinged by the familiar feeling.

"Liam is alone, much like We were, upon our Moon."

Celestia's smile falls and she feels guilt settle in her stomach. She lets in a short breath and walks to the desk to inspect his notes. Upon first glance, all of the symbols seem jumbled, but they are written neatly upon the printed lines. She casts the translation spell over the room, finding that the parchments are pieces of a letter composed for her pupil. Information of his world, a world without magic. There are details of buildings built deep within the earth, mention of electricity responsible for powering all that magic normally would... it is a world completely alien to her.

A world that is now lost.

"We art weaving a dream for him, a memory, if thou wouldst like to see it," Luna says gently, snapping her from her thoughts.

She turns back to face her and nods. Luna's horn glows with her magic and the world around them both dissolves into realm of dreams, where the sound of children's laughter pierces the black silence, and a motherly tone follows sweetly. Celestia's eyes widen when she sees a human child, playing in the park, running about on stubby legs. A boy. He's wearing a shirt that's too big for him, blue, with a pair of khaki shorts and pale blue shoes

The boy turns around and faces Celestia, smile growing bigger. She gasps as a shadow passes through her, moving to the boy and kneeling down. From where she stands, she can't see the phantom's face, but she knows what it is, who she is to him. She feels a sadness growing within her.

"Come on, Liam, let's get lunch!"

Author's Note

Sorry for the relative wait on this one, I've been plotting where the story goes and I'm hoping you all like the direction! Let me know what you guys think, and if you catch any spelling or grammar issues, comment below or PM me! I also decided to complicate things for myself by making some music (Ableton does not like me much, sorry!) but again, hope you all like it!

EDIT: Rewritten into third-person past for Liam. Luna's section remains the same.