SCP: "The Rise of The Administrator"

Chapter 100: 

Leonard stepped cautiously into the Bridge Archive, his boots clicking against the polished stone floor as the door sealed shut behind him with an ominous hiss. Franz walked ahead, his movements confident, his posture radiating familiarity with the massive underground vault. The air was cool, with a faint metallic tang, and the space hummed with an unseen energy.

"Welcome to SCP-001-01," Franz said, his voice echoing in the cavernous chamber. "Or, as we call it, the Bridge Archive. Everything you see here," he gestured at the rows of secured cases, display pedestals, and towering shelves, "is a fragment of history, some of it older than this institution itself."

Leonard's eyes roamed over the dimly lit expanse. The room stretched endlessly, its walls lined with shelves holding artifacts of all shapes and sizes, paintings, weapons, documents, and objects whose purposes weren't immediately clear. Each artifact rested in carefully marked containment units, some encased in glass, others behind reinforced barriers. There was an unshakable aura of reverence here, as if he had stepped into a church of history.

"How old is this place ?" Leonard asked, his voice tinged with awe.

"Older than you'd think," Franz replied with a faint smile. "It started as a collection of spoils, relics, and confiscated items during the chaos of the late 19th century. Over time, it evolved into something much more… significant." He stopped before a large glass case. Inside was a battered sabre, its blade pockmarked with rust but gleaming faintly under the lighting. "Take this, for instance. A Prussian officer's sword from the Napoleonic Wars. Nothing anomalous about the blade itself, but…"

Franz's words trailed off as he opened a small compartment on the display and handed Leonard a pair of black gloves. "Put these on. Trust me, you'll want the barrier."

Leonard complied, slipping on the gloves before Franz opened the case. As soon as Leonard touched the sword, a rush of cold coursed through his hands. His vision blurred, then sharpened again.

He wasn't in the Archive anymore.

The acrid scent of gunpowder and the cries of men filled the air. Leonard found himself standing in the chaos of a battlefield. He could feel the vibration of cannon fire, see the rows of soldiers in formation, their faces grim with determination and fear. He gasped, stepping back, and the vision dissipated as suddenly as it had come.

Franz caught his shoulder, steadying him. "That's what happens with every item here. The moment you touch something, you're transported, not physically, of course, into its history. A fragment of the moment it became significant."

Leonard's breathing slowed, and he set the sword back into its place. "How is this even possible ? Is it anomalous ?"

Franz shrugged. "Some are, some aren't. That sword is perfectly mundane. It's the Bridge Archive itself that makes this happen. The environment reacts with the object's residual energy, triggering what we call a 'historical burst.' And this," he gestured around them, "is what makes SCP-001-01 invaluable. It's a living record of our past."

They moved deeper into the chamber, passing artifacts whose labels hinted at extraordinary tales: "French Resistance Cipher Machine, 1944," "Recovered Fragment, Tunguska Event, 1908," "USSR Prototype Space Suit, 1963."

Leonard couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, though the only witnesses to his presence were the artifacts themselves. He stopped before a painting of a desolate battlefield, the colors muted and somber. As he reached out instinctively, Franz grabbed his wrist.

"Not that one," Franz warned, his tone sharp. "Some artifacts are too volatile. Even with gloves, the burst can overwhelm you."

Leonard nodded, lowering his hand. "How many items are in here ?"

"About 2,000," Franz answered as they approached a set of towering shelves filled with journals and ledgers. "Most of them come from European conflicts, World War I, World War II, the Napoleonic Wars, but there are a few from beyond Europe. Each one has a story to tell, but not all of them are safe to explore."

They arrived at a sealed section of the archive, its heavy steel door marked with bright yellow warning labels. Franz punched in a code, the door opening with a low hiss. "Now," he said, glancing back at Leonard, "this is where things get interesting."

Leonard stepped into the newly revealed chamber, his eyes widening as he took in the sight. This section of the Bridge Archive was vastly different from the historical artifacts in the main hall. Here, weapons, armors, and strange devices filled the room, each encased in reinforced containment units or displayed on pedestals. The lighting was dim, the objects casting eerie shadows across the floor.

"This," Franz said, his voice reverent, "is where we keep the tools that shaped history in ways most will never understand. Some are mundane, others… decidedly not."

Leonard approached a display case containing a French cavalry sabre. Its blade gleamed faintly in the dim light, and the handle was intricately inscribed with the insignia of the estate Noir. It radiated an almost magnetic allure, pulling Leonard's gaze toward it.

"This one caught your eye ?" Franz asked, stepping beside him.

"Yeah," Leonard replied, studying the weapon. "The design, it feels like it carries a story."

Franz nodded. "That's an understatement. This blade was wielded during one of the most unusual battles in European history. You'll see for yourself." He handed Leonard a pair of gloves.

Leonard hesitated but slipped the gloves on. He reached out and grasped the sabre's hilt.

The room disappeared.

He was in the midst of chaos. The sky above was a haunting golden hue, as though the sun itself was trembling with anticipation. French troops huddled in a muddy trench, their breaths visible in the cold air. Leonard could feel the weight of the sabre in his hand, hear the distant screaming that filled the sky like a wailing banshee.

"Form ranks! Ready yourselves!" a voice barked over the cacophony.

Leonard turned to see the men around him, young, frightened, yet determined. The screaming overhead abruptly stopped, replaced by an oppressive silence that seemed to freeze time. Then it came: a roar, primal and deafening, swelling through the French line like a shockwave.

The soldiers surged forward, climbing out of the trench and charging across no man's land. Leonard was pulled along, the sabre in his hand leading him. Explosions erupted to his left and right, sending dirt and bodies into the air.

At the other end of the field, a grotesque sight awaited. A massive, swirling sphere of wings and ethereal light hovered, emitting a sound that was both music and agony. Leonard's mind reeled at the sight, it was unlike anything human. This was no mortal enemy; this was divine and terrible.

The sabre in his hand seemed to pulse, drawing him toward the celestial being. He watched as the French soldiers fought valiantly, their screams mixing with the creature's unearthly wails. Bullets tore through wings, explosions scorched feathers, and blood, golden and radiant, splattered across the battlefield.

Leonard blinked, and the scene shifted.

The battle was over. No man's land was a graveyard, bodies strewn across the field. The air was heavy with the stench of death and the faint, lingering hum of the creature's last cry. Leonard's gaze was drawn to the center of the carnage, where the celestial being lay dead, its radiant form dim and broken.

Standing atop its lifeless body was Franz, younger but unmistakably him. He gripped the sabre tightly, golden blood dripping from its blade. With a weary motion, Franz wiped the blood on his tattered shirt and looked out over the battlefield, his face unreadable.

Leonard gasped as the vision faded, the sabre still clutched in his gloved hand. His knees buckled, and he stumbled backward, his breathing ragged.

Franz caught him, steadying him. "Breathe," he said calmly, though his expression was somber. "Now you understand."

Leonard stared at the sabre, his mind racing. "What was that… thing ? That… angel ?"

"A being beyond human comprehension," Franz replied, his tone grim. "Some call them angels, others aberrations. Here, we call them empyrean entities but It doesn't matter what they are. What matters is that they're dangerous, and we had no choice but to fight."

Leonard looked back at the sabre, its blade now seeming far heavier than before. "And you were there ?"

Franz nodded, his eyes distant. "I was. That battle was one of the bloodiest in modern European history, and one of the few times we stood against something divine and won. The sabre you're holding was key to that victory. Its history is a burden, Boss."

Leonard set the sabre back into its display with care, his hands trembling. "How many other stories like this are in here ?"

Franz gestured to the chamber around them, a faint, knowing smile on his lips. "Enough to fill a thousand lifetimes. And we've only just begun."

Leonard approached a tall, golden staff under Franz's watchful eye. Its surface shimmered with an otherworldly glow, the intricate carvings on its body drawing Leonard in like a moth to flame.

"Go ahead," Franz said, his voice steady. "Touch it."

Hesitant but curious, Leonard placed his hand on the staff. The moment his fingers made contact, his surroundings melted away, replaced by a chaotic vision.

Leonard found himself amidst a battlefield, unlike anything he had ever seen. Humans, their bodies covered in glowing tattoos of various colors, clashed fiercely against hulking simian creatures, beasts resembling massive, bipedal apes with fur as dark as the void. The air crackled with energy, both magical and raw, as the two sides waged a brutal, unrelenting war.

Screams of pain and roars of fury surrounded him. Blades clashed, spells detonated, and the earth beneath his feet trembled under the weight of the carnage. The humans fought valiantly, their tattoos radiating vibrant energy as they unleashed devastating spells and attacked with glowing weapons. But the creatures were relentless, their sheer strength and dark magic turning the tide of battle.

The vision shifted. In the midst of the chaos, Leonard's gaze was drawn to a man at the center of the human forces. His tattoos glowed brighter than the others, a kaleidoscope of power emanating from his very being. He led his warriors with unwavering determination, carving through the monstrous horde like a beacon of hope.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion erupted, a wave of dark energy tearing through the battlefield. Leonard was thrown to the ground, disoriented. When he looked up, he saw her. A woman, her tattoos blazing with golden light, was sprinting toward the epicenter of the blast. Her face was twisted with fear and anguish as she approached the figure at the center of it all.

It was the man, the leader. He was kneeling, impaled by multiple spears of dark energy held by the towering simian creatures. His tattoos, once radiant, were now flickering weakly, their light fading with every labored breath he took.

"Adam ?" the woman's voice cracked, her desperation palpable. She dropped to her knees beside him, her glowing hands trembling as she reached out. "ADAM!"

Her scream echoed through the battlefield, a sound of unfiltered agony and loss.

And then, as quickly as it began, the vision ended.

Leonard staggered backward, clutching his head as the golden staff's glow dimmed. His breathing was ragged, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"What… what was that ?" he stammered, looking to Franz, who stood silent, his expression somber.

"That," Franz finally said, his voice low, "was the fall of Adam El Asem. The first human city and its leader destroyed in the War of the Children of the Night."

Leonard blinked, still trying to process what he had just witnessed. "Adam ? The first city ? What war ?"

Franz placed a hand on Leonard's shoulder, guiding him away from the staff. "You've just seen a piece of history that predates everything you know. Walk with me, and I'll explain."

Next Section

Franz led Leonard to a quiet alcove within the Bridge Archive, where the dim glow of lamps illuminated ancient artifacts, silent witnesses to a bygone era.

"What you saw, boss, belongs to the Antediluvian Era," Franz began, his voice echoing softly in the confined space.

"An age where the Earth was dominated by species and civilizations now forgotten."

He paused, allowing Leonard to process his words.

"The humans of that time, known as Homo antediluvianus, coexisted with powerful entities and mythical creatures. Cataclysmic inter-species wars erupted, shaping the fate of our world.

The fall of Audapaupadopolis, the first great human city founded by Adam El Asem, marked the end of an era. Adam, often revered as the First Man, united early humans under a banner of defiance against the Children of the Night and Faes, two species of immense intelligence and terrifying power. But this defiance came at a cost."

Franz gestured toward an ornate mural etched onto the wall, depicting humans battling monstrous beings under a stormy sky.

"These wars devastated the Earth. Civilizations that once thrived vanished in fire and blood. The Children of the Night, though advanced, underestimated humanity's resilience. And Adam… he paid the ultimate price, dying at the hands of these creatures to secure humanity's survival."

Leonard stared at the mural, his mind racing. "But why does no one know about this ? Why has it all been forgotten ?"

Franz's expression turned somber. "Because it was erased. By time, by nature, and by entities who wished to bury the past. The SCP Foundation ensures that what remains is preserved, but not all truths are safe to be revealed."

Franz placed a hand on Leonard's shoulder. "You've glimpsed a fraction of what lies beneath our world's surface, Boss. But there's much more you need to understand."

Leonard paused for a few seconds, rubbing his temples in thought before exclaiming, "Ugh, this is too complicated for me. I can already feel the headache coming."

Franz let out a hearty laugh. "Haha! Don't worry about it too much, boss. Take it one step at a time. And if it helps, remember, anything within this site, any artifact or tool, is at your disposal. Consider it yours."

Leonard raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a small smirk. "Is that so ? Well, that's… generous, I guess. Anyway, enough of this history lesson. Let's head back to your office."

Franz nodded, still chuckling. "As you wish, boss. Let's get going."

The two turned around, leaving the dimly lit halls of the Bridge Archive. Their footsteps echoed softly as they ascended through the winding corridors, leaving behind the eerie, ancient air of the subterranean chamber.

After a short walk, they arrived back at Franz's office. The room was just as Leonard remembered, cluttered yet somehow orderly, with shelves filled with books, scrolls, and strange devices. Franz gestured to the seat opposite his desk as he moved to pour himself a drink.

"Back to business, then," Franz said, settling into his chair. "So, boss, what's our next move ?"

Leonard leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he mulled over Franz's words. "Alright, so here's the deal. We've got three main priorities: anomalies, the Groups of Interest, and scientific research. On top of that, we need to coordinate the allocation of new sites and MTF units with the O5 Council. What do you propose ?"

Franz tapped a finger thoughtfully against his desk for a brief moment before responding. "First off, boss, we need you fully committed. You're the leader of the Foundation, we can't afford to have you juggling responsibilities. Your academic obligations are… a hindrance, to put it mildly. We need a solution for that."

Leonard frowned slightly. "What kind of solution are you suggesting ? Dropping out ?"

Franz asked: "Not necessarily. We still need to protect your identity, and I don't think dropping out of school is an option, especially if we consider your mother."

Leonard sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, you're right about that."

He stared off into the distance for a moment, lost in thought. Then, like a spark of realization, his eyes lit up. "Wait a second… I have the customization system now!"

Franz raised an eyebrow, his confusion evident. "Customization system ? What are you talking about, boss ?"

Ignoring the question, Leonard mentally accessed the interface of the system. A sleek, glowing menu appeared before his eyes, visible only to him. Scanning the options, he navigated to the Store tab. His attention immediately fell on a purchasable item labeled Field Agent, price: 900 Gold.

"Perfect," he muttered to himself, purchasing the agent with a single thought. The item vanished from the menu, and a new option appeared: Customize Agent.

Leonard quickly accessed the customization screen. A humanoid outline floated before him, ready to be molded. He adjusted the agent's appearance and age to perfectly match his own features, down to the last detail. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he typed in the agent's description:

"Clone of Leonard Dumont. Designed for operational use in external environments."

Satisfied, he confirmed his edits and hit the spawn button.

A bright flash of light filled the room. Franz shielded his eyes with his hand, but when the glow subsided, his jaw dropped. Standing in the middle of the room was an exact duplicate of Leonard, same height, same build, even the same confident smirk.

The clone straightened its posture, saluted crisply, and spoke in a firm, respectful tone: "At your service, sir."

Franz blinked, utterly stunned. "You created a copy of yourself ?"

Leonard crossed his arms, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Exactly. With this guy around, I can stay focused on running the Foundation while he handles my school life. It's a win-win."

Franz hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I suppose… that could work. But what about personality ? Behavior ? Will it act just like you, or…"

"Relax, Franz," Leonard interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "The system's customization is foolproof. I've programmed him to act like me when needed but stay neutral and professional otherwise. He'll ace my classes, keep my mother happy, and most importantly, he won't get in the way of our work here."

The clone turned to Franz and gave a polite bow. "I exist solely to serve Mr. Dumont's needs. Please feel free to provide me with any guidance."

Franz looked between Leonard and his clone, still processing what had just happened. "This is… unorthodox, to say the least. But if it solves the problem, I suppose I can't argue."

Leonard clapped Franz on the shoulder, grinning. "See ? Told you I'd figure it out."

Franz shook his head, letting out a small chuckle. "You never cease to surprise me, boss."

Leonard called out sharply, "Graves!"

A moment later, Graves, the stoic commander of Resh-1, entered the room. His disciplined demeanor faltered for the first time in a long while as he froze in the doorway, his eyes darting between the two identical Leonards.

"Boss… ?" Graves muttered, clearly struggling to comprehend the situation.

Leonard couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of Graves' bewildered expression. "Relax, Graves! You're not seeing double," Leonard said, gesturing to his clone. "Meet my duplicate. From now on, he'll be standing in for me in my… normal life."

Graves' brow furrowed as he glanced at Franz, who simply shrugged with a faint smirk. "It's as he says," Franz confirmed, his tone wry.

Leonard crossed his arms, his tone turning serious. "Listen up. Effective immediately, only a squad of ten Resh-1 operators and some support staff will remain stationed at Area-01. The rest ? I want them transferred to Site-01 without delay."

Graves snapped to attention, his confusion evaporating into professionalism. "Understood, sir. I'll make the arrangements."

Leonard nodded, then pointed to his clone. "Escort him out and ensure he gets briefed on his responsibilities. Treat him as you would treat me in operational terms."

Graves saluted crisply. "As you command."

With that, Graves stepped aside, motioning for the clone to follow him. The clone turned to Leonard, giving him a firm nod. "Good luck, sir. I'll handle everything on my end."

Leonard smirked. "I know you will. Make me proud."

As Graves and the clone exited the room, Franz let out a low whistle. "You really don't do things halfway, do you ?"

"Why settle for halfway when I can do it all ?" Leonard replied, his grin returning. "Now let's get back to business. We've got a Foundation to run."