Link to article: A Formal Apology.
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[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Dear Lament, Before I begin, may I mention just how terribly handsome you are? Yes, just a dashing fellow, I've always said. "There goes Lament, a reasonably good-looking person," people frequently hear me comment. And so good at shooting, and shouting, and so forth. Especially the so forth. You just don't see many skilled at so forth these days. I don't know what they're teaching at the academy nowadays, but the curriculum must be dreadfully lacking, judging by the quality of agent we see coming through the doors today. Also, for a layman, you have an almost adequate grasp of science. I've often said that the Foundation has attracted the finest minds of our generation, and we've appreciated having you there with us. Why, with a little training, a little self-improvement, and a rigorous ten-year program, you could just about be trusted with a bunsen burner. Under supervision, of course. Oh, and let us not forget your best quality, your nigh-inexhaustible reserves of forgiveness and mercy. But enough about the many virtues I am certain you possess. It's time to get to the business of the thing. I am terribly sorry to inform you that some, ah, "lamentable" (see what I, ha, did there?) events have taken place while you were on holiday for which I may or may not have been responsible. First, your car. Do you remember your car? A very nice sedan. Have I mentioned how good your taste in cars is? "There goes a fellow who knows his way around a used car lot," I say whenever I am not commenting on your good looks. And so good with money, that you had paid it off just last month. Well, there's no easy way to tell you this. I had borrowed it to run some errands (have I mentioned how generous and understanding you are? So very understanding), when I discovered a quite fascinating little creature, the result of some sort of genetic manipulation, in the company of several young bike-riding children. After a high-speed chase, some hi-jinx, and a double-digit body count, I found myself in possession of the creature. Unfortunately, I had attracted the attention of the Chaos Insurgency. Also unfortunately, your car was completely demolished in the ensuing et cetera. After further et cetera, I felt it was wise to make a call for backup. Now, you will recall that I had lost my cellular phone during the unpleasantness last week with the gang of hooligans who turned out to not be, as I had initially surmised, operatives of Parawatch, but merely recalcitrant Youth. Well, I had not had a chance to replace it, so I had borrowed yours (if you were wondering where it had gone to, well, mystery solved!). Unfortunately, while I was attempting to dial for assistance, it was destroyed by a stray bullet. I threw the battery, which was in the process of exploding, into the face of one of the Insurgents and beat a hasty retreat with the creature in tow. I commandeered a taxi cab with the use of Foundation funds. It turns out that I somehow found myself in possession of your charge card, which was fortunate. They don't trust me with one any more since the capybara incident. Happily, they, like me, are well aware of your financial acumen, and so yours had a full line of credit. It's possible it still does. I haven't seen it since I left the cab driver to duck into a shopping centre for cover. Ducking and weaving through the crowds, I managed to lose the Chaos Insurgency. Unfortunately, I also lost the creature. The sad news is that the Insurgency found the creature first. The good news is that it found the Insurgency delicious, as it grew to rather large proportions. The creature chased me from the shopping centre, and I put up a fairly good accounting of myself, firing off multiple rounds of ammunition, even hitting it once before I resorted to throwing the gun into its face (By the way, do you remember that nice gun your mentor Agent Harrison gave you? Actually, best not to bring it up, I think). I was about to be devoured when this folderol attracted the attention of, will you believe it, a Wondertainment Salesman of all people? Well, he happened to have Little Jimmy's Monster Terrarium handy, and in no time the creature was subdued, with no more cost than three box tops and four payments of $99.99 in American currency. I told them you'd cover me, you're so terribly generous. I knew I needed to take the creature to a safe haven. Unfortunately, Site 19 was all the way across town. It was then I realized I was only blocks away from your house. A happy coincidence, I hear you say. Well, that's simply due to your own excellent taste in real estate. Don't think I haven't noticed it, and commented on it when not discussing your good looks or automobile expertise. And soon I was crossing the threshold to safety. There was a bit of awkwardness when that fellow you have over all the time opened the door. The one you said made breakfast in bed that one time, Paul, I think? Your brother, I imagine. Anyway, I was explaining that I was simply a friend of yours from work and needed to drop something off. It was then that the clockwork ninjas attacked. In hindsight, I probably should not have been sending the Church of the Broken God taunting carrier pigeons. Just inviting trouble. But they're so stuck in the last century, it's hard not to tweak their nose a bit. In the resultant fracas, I'm afraid that there was some property damage. That is, the property was entirely damaged. And then it was set on fire. And exploded a bit. But don't worry about Paul. I was able to save nearly all of his organs. It's like he's still with us, when you think about it. Though I will say I don't think his spleen holds a candle to yours. Which brings me to the final bit of unpleasantness. Do you remember that specimen that we were supposed to return? Or rather, that I was supposed to return? SCP-1047-J? Well, I've just been so dashed busy, I had left it in your garage, and I'm afraid it was completely destroyed. But don't worry! I was able to recreate the circumstances of its creation, and I'm sure no one will notice the difference. I know you've told me time-and-time-again not to create new anomalous objects, but I'm sure there will be no ill consequences for my actions. There may be some awkward questions about why it was in your garage (among other things that have been stored there), but I've no doubt you can clear it all up as soon as you're back. Your Good Friend, Doctor Everett Mann [[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box-end]]