Link to article: Dead Draw.
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[[module css]] #extra-div-6 { position: fixed; top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; -webkit-backdrop-filter: grayscale(100%); backdrop-filter: grayscale(100%); z-index: 11; pointer-events: none; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] Alison checked her phone. Her father was late, which was unlike him. He never used to be late. She adjusted her black newscap, an accessory which matched her cardigan, dress, fishnets, lipstick, and steel-toed boots; She wasn't called "The Black Queen" for nothing. In her boredom she engaged in some people-watching. A pair of girls made eyes at each other, twirling their hair and blushing. A businessman held the bridge of his nose as he listened in silence to his call. A family of four ate some pastries, the youngest muddying his face with chocolate cream. Birds chirped, the sun shone, and a slight breeze caressed her face. Alison took a sip of black coffee, glancing idly at the blank screen of her phone again. She was still setting it up, had purchased it shortly after her old Anderson phone stopped working. This new phone was far worse than the old: it was mundane, ordinary. No time had been spent on personalizing it; Black phone, black case, default ringtone (though Alison preferred to keep it on vibrate), it even still had the default wallpaper. Alison scrolled through her image gallery, selfies in the Library, pictures of Midnight, scans of classified documents, memes downloaded from Void, until finally settling on a group picture with her sisters. She closed her phone and reopened it, smiling sadly at the image that now greeted her. It was another sip of coffee before she noticed a man approaching. She stood up ramrod straight. "Good morning, Alison." "Hi, dad." They both stood awkwardly a moment, then took their seats. Their waitress came by again shortly thereafter. Charles ordered a black coffee. The waitress smiled and noted the resemblance between her two customers. Charles informed the waitress that Alison was his daughter, Alison cringed, feeling half her age. The waitress left to put in Charles' order. Alison took another sip of her drink, and they sat in silence, until her dad broke it. "I like your outfit." Alison grinned slightly. "Yeah? You recognize the hat?" Charles squinted. "Is that... SCP-268?" "I've always called it 'The Cap of Neglect', personally." Alison gave Charles a pointed look, though he didn't seem to notice. "So L.S. was you then, after all." "Sometimes. Other times it was my sisters." Alison sighed sadly "Not anymore though, since the cap lost its 'je ne sais quoi'." Charles looked at her pensively, remaining silent. Alison hesitated a moment before asking. "Do you... know what happened?" The man couldn't meet her eyes. "Allison, I-" "Dad, please I need to know. My friends, my //family//, my //home//. It's all gone. I can't see them again." The memories hit her unbidden. The gradual loss of witchcraft after a lifetime of training. The increasing difficulty in entering the Library and the fateful day she was spat out of it for the last time. Her sister, Angela, who helped her look into the disappearance of magic until she too faded, forever condemned to her old universe. Finding Midnight, that sardonic old familiar, her one time mentor, roaming the streets; reduced to a common housecat, the glint of demonic intelligence gone forever. She looked at her dad pleadingly. "The Foundation always figures it out. Every breaking of the Veil, every end of the world, you always put it back how it's supposed to be. Dad, I'm- I'll do anything, I'll turn myself in, I'll turn Jailor, just..." Alison floundered, trailing off, at a loss for words for the first time in years. Charles' normally placid face curved into a frown. "Alison..." he trailed off. His voice, normally flat and unemotional, wavered slightly. Alison furrowed her eyebrows in slight concern. "What is it?" Her father exhaled with a shaky breath. "I'm not with the Foundation anymore." Alison nearly spit out her coffee. "You?! You left the Foundation?!" She never thought she'd see the day. "Not quite. The Foundation no longer exists." "Holy crap." Alison had worked towards the Foundation's downfall for years. Theft, sabotage, counterpropaganda, armed insurrections. Yet it'd never been more than a pipe dream. Even with the full force of the Black Queens, the Serpents Hand, all her contacts, all who owed her favors.... she'd have only mutilated them at most. As it was, she was normally just a thorn in the Foundation's side, she'd never been under any delusions about that. She'd hoped but she never really thought... But then, she'd never imagined it'd all go like this. The dissolution of the Foundation was just another sign that //this// was the new status quo. Despite her hatred of the Jailors, she'd thought, she'd //hoped// that they'd be able to fix things. But even their most dedicated researchers couldn't figure it out. Even her //father// couldn't. She studied her father's face. At a glance, he held a neutral expression, as he always did. Most people never looked past it, the iron facade. But she knew him better than that. His eyebags were slightly heavier, his lips were chapped, his face displayed a faint five o'clock shadow. "Um, are you... okay?" Charles frown deepened as he examined his coffee intently. "It is for the best. The Foundation existed due to anomalies. I joined the Foundation to protect you and your mother, and you don't need me to anymore." Alison's eyes simmered with a cold rage. "Really? You left me, left //mom// to //protect us//? Wiped her brain, hunted down your only daughter for //years//, out of, what, some twisted sense of love?" Charles looked at her with all seriousness. "Yes." Alison shook her head and stood up in bitter exasperation, gathering her things. Before she could move, her father's hand shot out and grasped her own. "Alison, please." She ripped her hand away and was about to stomp away, but then she saw something in his eyes that made her hesitate. "Please. Just, hear me out." "Okay, but you're buying me another coffee." Charles nodded, and exhaled lightly. "I've thought on this for some time now. Ever since... when things started to end. It isn't easy for me to admit this Alison but, I was wrong." Alison sat in stunned silence. "I should have stayed, should have been there for you, should have resigned, //defected//, once I knew I was against you. I abandoned you, I hurt you. I've been a terrible father. Words could never... could never be enough, but know that I am sorry Alison. You'll never know how sorry I am." "You weren't always. I remember... riding on your shoulders, training until I could beat your ass at chess." Charles lips curled faintly. "I let you win, you know." Alison chuckled. "Bullshit, you're just bitter you lost to a little girl." "It's true, your mother made me. You were a rather sore loser as a child." "Still am. Apple didn't fall too far from the tree. " "Do you remember our last game?" "The one by correspondence?" "The very same." "Ended in a tie, didn't it? Neither of us could checkmate the other?" "The technical term is a dead draw." "Whatever, what's your point?" Charles pointed to a chess set on a stack of games. "Care for a rematch?" Alison smiled. "Only if I get to play white, this time." [[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box]] [[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box-end]]