From The Journal Of Iris Thompson, Ex-MTF Commander

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[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/broken-masquerade-hub Broken Masquerade] >> From The Journal Of Iris Thompson, Ex-MTF Commander

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__**September 18th, 2021**__

I would like the record to show that this isn't my idea. Keeping a journal is something Gilbert recommended to help me "channel my grief," whatever that means. I guess she wants me to just write my feelings down? I'm melancholy. There.

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__**September 24th, 2021**__

Turns out Gilbert isn't a fan of smartasses. To be honest, I never thought a woman who spoke so softly could be so sarcastic. I would've found it amusing if the remarks weren't directed at me.

Anyway, to avoid //that// again, I'm gonna start taking this thing seriously... or at least more seriously. So... I guess I'll start with my day.

I woke up around 5ish, like normal. No nightmares this time, just haven't been able to break out of the early-rising sleep schedule I got into while at 17. Tommy was still asleep, as usual. He rarely gets up before 9:00. I hope he gets stuck with an 8 am class next semester.

Like normal, I went for a jog around the park and neighborhood. --I was the only one out.-- There was a dude walking his dog out over by the lake. Said I "looked good in those shorts." I told him I was a skip. As I expected, his face darkened and he quickly moved on.

Made it back home around 7. By 7:30, I was showered and making breakfast. Egg Hashbrown Casserole. Not my favorite, not Tommy's favorite, but a good meal that used up some ingredients that were about to expire. Decided to turn on the TV while I ate. Big mistake. First thing I saw was a news headline about a group of skips found dead on the side of the road. Another group of murders by anti-skippers. An investigation was underway, but if the rumors are true that rogue GOC cells have been orchestrating these killings, then it's unlikely anything will come of it. Yet another reason why I keep a photo of my service revolver on me at all times.

The very first commercial after the headline was none other than good old [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4818 Leora]. It was the one where a bunch of kids are playing in the park, and one shows the others that he has anomalous powers, and everyone says he should become a super hero, and then Leora walks in frame and tells the kids that they should talk to their parents (read: nearest Foundation representative) about it instead. Oh, what irony.

Ok, for what it's worth, I am --happy-- content with Leora finding her place as the Foundation's poster girl. I still think it's a thinly veiled attempt at saving face and manipulating the public by putting the young, energetic, single most super hero coded member of their little super squad front and center of their public image, but hey... they're not stupid enough to put the teenage poster girl in any real danger, so I can live with it. I wonder how many people think Leora is the leader of Alpha-9 and not Adams.

Tommy got up not a minute before 9:28. Architectural engineers are such lazy bastards. Still, we were able to enjoy a quick chat before he ran out the door, slab of casserole in hand. His first major exam is today, and the reason he slept in is because he was up all night studying. Uh huh. Sure you were. You were //totally// up until 2:30 in the morning reading through your text book and //not// playing Factorio. Regardless, I wished him good luck and said I'd see him at lunch.

With Tommy gone and and my first class not starting until 11:00, I had a good hour to myself. Decided to spend it continuing that biography of Van Gogh. I'd like to knock that out by the end of the month so I can get to that one mystery novel for October.

It's a 30 minute walk to campus, so I left around 10:20. Arrived to my class at 10:58. Not much to note about either my walk or the class, other than how much I hate sociology. We went over how family structures inherently shape our society, and how having an unstable family makes you more likely to be a vagrant. Fucking topical.

Met Tommy at the cafeteria around noon. I had a grilled chicken melt. He had a sausage and pineapple pizza, much to my disgust. Seeing him was nice though. It's always nice to spend time with him. Well, except for when he asked me about what I did in class today. Had to come up with something on the spot. I really, really hate lying to Tommy, but saying our professor lectured us about familial ties would've... hit a little close. He's still a little bitter about me cutting ties with Mom and Dad.

Ran into Andrea (photography club president, not Alpha-9 agent) on my way to my second class. She asked me if I was doing ok, and if I planned on coming back anytime soon. I told her it all depended on my work schedule, which she accepted. As you know, there is no work schedule. I don't have a job. The Foundation pays me enough through my Alpha-9 pension (which I'm pretty sure didn't exist until 8 seconds after the veil broke) and hush money --for Ome-- //Note to self: Don't mention Omega-7 in writing.//

Yes, I stopped going to the photography club. The only reason I went in the first place is because I was told it'd be the best way to start socializing with people and... well, it just felt like something I //had// to do to experience college life. I mean, everyone's part of a club, even Tommy. So not attending one feels like... --I'm not trying hard enough to put the Foundation behind me-- I don't know how to describe it. But it ultimately ended up being a failed venture. Everyone there was like 10 years younger than me, and we... I don't know. We just didn't connect. There was just something about seeing these people, whose worst memory is embarrassing themselves in front of their 7th grade class, that was just off putting to me. They were just so... oblivious, and... I don't know. I just felt awkward and out of place at every meeting, so I just stopped going. --If I'm being honest, I feel that way about college in general. Don't know how much longer I-- //Note to self: Start using pencil instead of pen.//

Not much to say about physics and history of photography. The former made me want to cave my own skull in with a brick (I swear if Professor Jay says "you know" one more time) and I could've taught the latter myself (you better believe the Foundation drilled every last fact of photography into my head during --Omega-7-- my early days).

Stopped by the store on my way home. Picked up groceries for the week. Not going to list them out. Got home at around 4:30. Tommy was on the couch working on his laptop. Well, I say working, but odds are he was flipping between glancing at his school work and reading those stupid web fics he likes. --Makes me think back to when Mom worked 10 to 6 and Dad was out late at a job site, meaning it was up to me to help Tommy with his homework. He'd always get distracted and complain and try to push it off and all the things an 8 year old would do when they didn't want to do homework. God I love him.-- Ok I'm going to get a pencil.

Tommy already ate some of those instant noodles he likes so much, so I just made myself a ham sandwich. Not exactly a hardy dinner, but I don't think either of us were too hungry. Worked on homework until 7ish in my room, then went back out into the living room to see what Tommy was up to. He was playing on the Xbox. Elden Ring, specifically. I asked if he had homework he needed to do, to which he waved and said it wasn't due until the end of the week.

I asked him if I could try, which he allowed. I... may have gotten a little carried away. I really was intending to give the controller back after I died, but the ways I died were just so stupid and bullshit that I //couldn't// let it slide. At first I told him to give me another try after each death, but after about the fourth time I just angrily leaned forward without a word. It wouldn't be until almost midnight when Tommy said he was going to shower and head to bed that I realized how long I had stolen the controller from him. He laughed and said it was alright when I apologized and offered the controller back. I... really need to not play those kinds of games.

And that leads me to right now. I'm sitting in bed writing this all down in the journal Gilbert gave me. Not sure if this is what she meant, but this is what she's gonna get. Don't know if I'll write in this every day or just once a week. Either way, I really can't see this helping me much. But, if it'll help me move past the Foundation, I'll entertain it.

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From The Journal Of Iris Thompson, Ex-MTF Commander

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