1 - Polly - The Hole

(none)

(none)

(none)

=====
[[include component:preview
text=I never wanted you to get wrapped up in this.
]]
=====

[[include :scp-wiki:component:info-ayers
|lang=en
|page=component:info-ayers
|authorPage=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/kingofmice-author-page
|comments=
= …ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
]]
[[>]]
[[module Rate]]
[[/>]]

Your name is Apollo “Polly” Finn, or at least that’s the name you gave yourself, and your front door is sitting on your lawn. This should, for obvious reasons, be very disconcerting. You, Polly, should’ve turned around, gotten back in your car, and driven off.

But that’s not like you, is it Polly? Standing there, staring into the gaping hole where your front door should be, you’re struck by the feeling that //someone// is in there.

The scene is easy enough to put together, door on the ground means someone tore it off the hinges, //means// someone wanted inside, badly. But while it is clear someone //was// in there, you are also struck by the more bone chilling and inescapable feeling that someone //was not// in there.

//What a strange thought.// Someone //not// being in your house is a good thing. But that feeling lodges itself into your mind, runs down your spine, and settles in your stomach. The feeling morphs into terror.

You charge through the front door, calling out a name. A name that leaves your mind the second it leaves your lips. //Who were you calling for? Who was supposed to be there? What’s missing?//

Your house is clean, meticulously so. It’s more unnerving than finding it ransacked. Someone was looking for something, and something specific. It feels off too, everything’s just out of place, like it was all shifted two inches over. You try calling the name again, only to find you don’t remember the name or why you even thought to shout one.

//There’s a shifting upstairs.// You freeze, your heart racing a million miles an hour. Next to your door is a coat stand, you grab it; two coats slide off the hooks and land at your feet. You shift the coat stand around in your hands, holding it outwards as if it were a jousting lance.

Sweat pours down your forehead as you stalk up the stairs. As a woman who lives alone, a house break-in comes with a million nightmare scenarios. The faces in your photographs and paintings seem to leer down on you as you pass.

The door to your bedroom is cracked open. From your vantage point you can see your queen sized bed in ruins. Pillows and sheets strewn across the floor and the mattress lifted up and pushed up against the wall.

The sound of shifting gets louder, someone quickly opens and closes several drawers. Then, right as your hand reaches to push the door open, the sound stops.

Holding your breath, mouth dry, you can just barely hear someone sigh. A drawer slowly closes and footsteps approach the door. You press your back flat against the wall.

Through the crack in the door you can just barely see the back of the intruder. They’re wearing a black coat and a wide brimmed black hat, long blond hair running down their back. They stop at the foot of your bed frame, standing still for just a moment.

//Here’s your opening.// Pushing back on your legs, you launch yourself forward, slamming through the open door, coat stand held high above your head. You manage, in your blind sprint, to strike the intruder on the side of the head, knocking their hat off.

“Ah! What the-!” She, //you’re pretty sure it’s a she//, stumbles over onto her side, rubbing the side of her head. With shaking arms, you point the stand right at her chest.

Upon making eye contact, you’re immediately struck by an odd and primal sort of fear. For a moment you’re a prey animal who’s just noticed the predator stalking through the brush. Her posture mirrors your own.

Everything is quiet.

In the blink of an eye, the world becomes a blur of motion. She turns tail and jumps onto your desk, sending everything to the ground. Papers fly through the air as she tears the curtains down. She digs her fingers under the lift, snapping the window lock as she forces the window open.

Being taller and a little faster, you drop the coat stand and lunge forward, arms outstretched. You manage to get your arms around her neck and you use your body weight to yank her backwards. The intruder loses her grip and falls on top of you.

“No! No!” Shouts the intruder in a raspy voice, kicking and squirming in your grasp. Despite your lack of experience, it’s not hard to keep her in a headlock.

With sharp nails, she tears up your sleeves, clawing at your arms. A flinch is all she needs to break your grasp. You hear a wet //squelch// before you realize she’s bitten you.

You scream.

“Fuck!” You let go but her teeth are stuck in your arm. The more you wriggle and squirm and shove the more you hurt yourself. Blood runs down her chin.

Almost like a dance, you struggle to your feet, your arm still in her mouth. Pushing with her heels, she slams you hard against the wall. The force rattles the whole house, sending a shelf of clown dolls tumbling to the ground. Fifty smiling porcelain faces meet a very grim end.

You punch her in the back of the head, a few of your fingers snap with it. She cries out, releasing your arm and stumbling forward. Bringing your knee up to your chest, you kick her hard in the square of her back, sending her to the floor.

Out of instinct, you reach out and grab a wooden clown, chucking it at her as hard as you can like she’s some kind of bug. She looks at you, then to the door. On all fours, she scuttles out of the room and down the stairs.

You feel faint, taking a step forward, unsure if the ground will be there. The bite mark on your arm makes you feel sick, there’s a million mouth germs flowing through your blood right now. To keep your legs from buckling, you have to lean up against the wall.

//She’s escaping,// the thought shoots through your head like a bullet. You wobble after her, fueled by anger and fear. There she is at the bottom of the stairs.

“You-!” you cry out. She looks up at you, fear in her eyes, and all of the sudden the floor is not where you thought it should be. Like the whole world has been ripped out from under you, you fly gracelessly through the air, your stomach tied up in knots. All colors blur into one seamless blop and in the same //instant-//

Darkness swallows you whole.

…

You awaken slowly, finding yourself jostled about in the back of a car. The roads were never very good here and it’s only accentuated by how much your head hurts. You feel your arm, finding the indent of teeth loosely wrapped in gauze. An incessant ringing emanates from the driver’s seat. Prying your eyes open, you see the driver pull out and answer a phone.

The intruder is now, apparently, your kidnapper.

“Hello sir. No I wasn't ab- sir? No- no, sir. I- … There was a complication, if I may… Yes sir, my apologies sir… I didn’t feel right- no, sir, I’m sorry.” You listen to her ramble like this, unable to catch even a word of the other end.

You realize you’re not tied up. Propped up in the backseat, you’re buckled in and slightly bandaged, but you’re not trapped. Touching the sore spot on your head, you do your best not to hiss in pain.

Feeling your face, you drag your hand down, your fingers coming to a stop on the chain necklace around your neck. Slowly, as to not make it immediately obvious that you’re awake, you sit up and undo the clasp.

“Please sir- I am- I am only asking permission to leave her with the hospital. I promise to-” she never gets to finish her promise.

You wrap the chain around her throat, with a ferociousness and malice you’ve //never// shown before, using your weight to yank back, you choke her against the headrest. The driver cries out, the sound quickly cut off by a sharp //retch// as you strangle her further.

//Polly… Polly, what are you doing?//

She claws at the chain, snapping it under her fingers. She slams on the brakes in some vain attempt to regain control.

A telephone pole crumples the car, shattering the windshield in a wave of glorious glass shards. The airbags go off with a sharp hiss. You smack your face into the back of the driver’s seat, lucky to have not broken your neck. The only thing you can hear is the horn blaring and the driver’s wheezing breaths, everything else is drowned out by the ringing in your ears.

You pull your arms back, the broken chain still gripped in your hands. At the very least your arms aren’t broken, though they’re bruised like they could be, your bandage torn. Kicking open the door, you immediately collapse onto the asphalt. You’re still in your neighborhood, surrounded on all sides by uninhabited houses. A car drives past the wreckage without even slowing.

A //gag// tears through your throat, something dripping from your lips. You rest your head on the ground for several seconds, watching the other cars pass you by. Despite everything in the world being against your favor, you got out of that pretty unscathed.

The driver’s door opens and out she tumbles. She falls to her hands and knees, spitting up a viscous glob of blood. You scramble up to your feet, using the car to hold yourself up.

Rearing her head up, you stare into her beady red eyes. Blood and glass decorate her face and chest. She lifts herself up onto shaky legs and methodically pats down her coat. You see the handle of a pistol poking out of an inner pocket.

Fueled purely by adrenaline, you damn near tackle her, snatching the gun away. She looks at you, as if confused by what you’ve just done. Until her eyes focus on the gun pointing right at her face, then the confusion turns to fear.

She raises her hands in surrender and backs up. You have her pinned.

“Who the hell are you!” You scream, spraying spit and blood into her face. “You broke into my house! Why, to kidnap me? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

She coughs, shrinking under your gaze. You swallow a lump in your throat, trying to seem a lot more confident than you are. The stranger trembles like a cornered animal. Her eyes dart around, searching for an exit. You’re too wound up now to let this go.

You hold the gun in your left hand, your dominant hand, jamming the gun in her face. She gasps, looking more afraid than you.

“Say something, damnit!” You shout, finger curling around the trigger. Something catches your attention. Something small and yet more jarring than anything else that’s happened.

Nestled securely on your ring finger is a silver band.

The feeling of an //absence// hits you hard. Hard enough to make you stumble and drop the gun, making your world spin. Your vision blurs, nausea builds back up, it’s too hot, your lungs heavy and leaden. You fall back onto your ass. The ring stays, unmoving, on your finger. The clearest thing you can see.

You run your thumb over the small //V// engraved on its surface.

//There’s a Hole in your mind.// You were able to ignore it before, it’s easy to ignore //nothing//. But now this ring- you feel the gap now. This ring is important, //you were married//, you //are// married, but the more you try to register this fact, the more you attempt to grip onto any kind of memory, you feel this //Hole// in your mind.

It’s like clawing a chalkboard. //It hurts but it won’t stop.//

Your captor, or maybe, if only for a moment, your captive, regards you with a curious expression. Keeping her body facing you, she backs up and reaches into the car, pulling out the shattered phone.

“Are you still there, sir?” She speaks, her voice rough and muffled. You can hear some scratchy audio, but no real words. You’re glued to the ground, eyes stuck on the ring.

“Yes- yes I’m okay. I’m sorr- no, the car is ruined,” she says in an almost corporate tone, “Yes, yes I know… The passenger is fine, she seems to be-” she pauses, squinting at you. “Are you sure? Sir, she attacked me. You- … alright I understand. See you soon.”

The stranger slips the phone into a jacket pocket and approaches you again, swiping the gun off the ground.

“Can you stand?”

You tear your eyes off the ring, staring up at her. Even without looking at it you can feel it there, reminding you of the //Hole//. You feel sick.

You nod.

“My boss wants to speak with you. She can be insistent. She thinks she can help you. //Please don’t make me use force//.”

That last line sounds less like a threat and more like a genuine plea. In the distance, you hear sirens coming closer. Perhaps one of your neighbors called them. You may feel intimidated by this stranger for reasons you can’t place and feel deeply instinctual, but you know that she’s weak and hurt. You don’t //have// to go anywhere with her.

But, if there’s one thing that’s always been your fatal flaw, you’re //deathly// curious.

“Who’s your boss?” You stand up, casting a shadow over her.

“Just- come this way.” She takes several steps back and hesitates for a long time, before turning her back to you and walking away. You stand there, watching her leave. She stops and glances back at you, waiting for you to follow.

The sun’s starting to go down. The weight of your body is becoming increasingly noticeable, you realize that you haven’t eaten anything since lunch. You pass through your neighborhood, mostly empty houses and unkempt lawns. There’s the occasional car that passes by and people cross the street when they see you coming, but no one does more than that. You’re used to getting strange looks as you walk down these familiar sidewalks. At least right now it makes sense.

She (you’re unsure if //captor// is accurate anymore) is limping. You're tempted to ask if she’s okay but you’re no idiot. She glances back at you occasionally.

Neighborhoods turn to storefronts, of course nothing but a few restaurants and drug stores are open at this hour. Then you reach the abandoned outer edge of the town. Here you are, standing before an abandoned laundromat. You try to remember if this place was ever in business. //Have you been here before?//

The door looks like it could be forced open but you instead watch her crawl through one of the broken windows. You follow suit, trying not to think about the fact that you’re willingly cornering yourself. Defunct washers and dryers sit in uneven rows. A few are knocked over and dented. It smells like animal shit and trash, several creatures have certainly made their home here.

No human has touched this place in ages, there’s not even graffiti on the walls.

She leads you to a door labeled //Broom Closet//. From her many pockets she produces a keyring and flips through the rusty keys. She opens the door to reveal a descending staircase. She steps to the side, gesturing outwards.

“After you.”

You look behind you. You could still escape. Even just standing there, your captor is out of breath. At this point, you’re walking willingly to the slaughter.

//She thinks she can help you.// Those words sit in your mind. You glance at the ring, feeling the gap, unmoving. //Help you how?//

You feel distinctly like you’re being swallowed as you descend. The door closes behind you, your captor hissing and struggling her way down the stairs. You think you feel bad for her.

The stairs open to a sleek hallway. It’s clean down here, cleaner than the laundromat upstairs, which truly isn’t saying much. It smells like copper and bleach. The floor squeaks under your steps, the fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Other than that it’s awfully quiet, making your captor’s labored breathing all the more noticeable.

Down the hall you can see more doors and a larger room further away. She stops at the first door, rapping her knuckles against the hardwood surface. Her face is pale and she holds onto the wall for support.

“//Barry!?// I’m here.”

“Come in!” replies a muffled voice.

Your captor looks on the verge of falling over, but she pushes on, opening the door and shoving you in. The office is cold and undecorated with bleach white walls. You see a man sitting at a desk, or at least you think they’re a man. After observing //her// for a moment, the truth hits you. This //Barry// is a large woman with short black hair wearing a vomit green jacket over a brown flannel.

You’ve spent much of your life described as //masculine// despite your best efforts to appear otherwise. Suddenly every comment you’ve ever heard means nothing to you.

With an almost bored expression, Barry looks right past you, laying eyes on your captor instead. “Cord?” She barks, voice thick, “Don’t track shit in here. Take a step back.”

“Sorry, sir.” She takes a step back, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“You-” she points at you. “Sit down for a second. Cord, did you come back empty handed?”

“I did, sir.”

“And you wrecked your car?”

Cord bites her lip. “//Yes sir.//” It looks like she wants to say more.

“This entire thing is your fault.”

“Entirely my fault, sir,” Cord repeats with a nod.

For half a second you’re back at work, watching your boss tell off your co-worker right in front of you. There are no words to describe the discomfort. You can’t help the involuntary flinch as //the boss// turns her gaze onto you.

“Now, I’m sure you have questions.”

There’s a pause in which you realize it’s your turn to speak.

“Oh- I- What’s going on here?”

“We’re having a discussion.”

“N- no what’s going on here? Where am I?”

“You’re in the basement of an abandoned laundromat.”

“Who are you?”

“You can call me Baritone. Barry for short.”

“Why am I here?”

“Why //are// you here?” She raises one eyebrow.

Words get trapped in your throat. Feeling dismissed, your first instinct is to get defensive. But as you think about it, it dawns on you that you know //exactly why you’re here//.

“I’m here because…” you bring your hand up, resting it on your bruised forehead. “I’m here because there’s a //Hole// in my mind. I- I don’t know why but I can feel it. I’m forgetting something, but when I try to think about it I just feel the //Hole// where it should be.”

“I see.” She nods, pleased. “And when did you start to notice this //Hole?//”

“I think I’ve felt it all morning, but I really started to notice when I saw this r-” you hold your hand out, showing off the ring. Barry snatches your wrist, cutting you off. You forget how to speak for a second.

She pulls your hand in closer and slides the ring right off. She examines it closely, holding it up to the light, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. You feel like you should protest or //something// but you can’t bring yourself to make a sound.

“Cord?” Barry says softly. “Would you come here?”

Cord approaches. With Barry’s grip firm on your wrist, you can’t squirm away.

“Yes, sir?”

“Would you look at this?”

“It’s a silver ring?”

“Touch it.”

Cord’s face scrunches up into a frown. She takes a deep breath in and holds it, reaching out to touch the ring. She seems confused, letting go of the breath and leaning in closer.

“Oh…” She picks it up and on the inside you see writing you’ve never noticed before. You don’t have time to puzzle out what it says before it disappears from your view.

“Take this to Ayla, just for confirmation. Then you can go see Ruth.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Wait!” Finally you find your words. “That’s my wedding ring!” You try to stand up but Barry's grip is stronger than it looks. You watch Cord limp her way out, she doesn’t even pause when you shout.

“Sit still!” Barry commands.

Slowly, you still, forcing your body to loosen. She flashes a smarmy grin, lets go of your wrist, and pulls out a laptop.

“I’m going to ask some questions and you are going to answer them. Then, I’ll make sure you get your ring back. Okay?”

“Okay…” You interlock your fingers, twiddling your thumbs.

“What’s your name?”

“Polly. Apollo Finn.”

“Uh-huh. And you called it a wedding ring? How long have you been married?”

You strain, clawing at the //Hole// in order to find an answer. “Two years…? I think? Why can’t I remember?”

“Oh you //can// remember.” She gestures for you to give her more. “That’s why I’m going to need your help here. Do you remember your spouse’s name?”

“//You need my-?”// You bite your lip. “V… something. It starts with a V.”

Barry’s expression grows into a smirk. “Good… Good.” She closes the laptop. “Congrats! You’re hired!”

“Huh?”

She grabs your hand, forcefully shaking it. You cringe and flinch, reminded of your bruised and broken fingers.

“Here, let’s get you to Ruth. Get you all patched up. Then we’ll talk about your new job.”

“My new //wha-”//

She stands, grabs you by the shoulders, and drags you along. Down the hallway you pass by a couple of rooms that look like dorms.The hall opens to a large room with two other rooms branching off of it. In the center is a large iron cage.

There’s absolutely //Nothing// inside.

A gasp forces its way out of you. The Hole in your mind aches. You just can’t seem to pry your eyes off the lack of anything in the cage. It's captivating, the complete non-existence just sitting there.

“Ignore that,” Barry says, dragging you to the rightmost room. Even as you’re torn away, you can feel Nothing calling to you.

“I don’t understand…” you mumble.

“Good! If you understood you’d go crazy. Start trying to claw your eyeballs out and shit.” She mimes scratching at her own face, expression one of mock horror.

“Huh?”

“Ruth is just over here.” You come to a stop before a door with a red cross haphazardly hung on it. It’s open just a crack, giving you a glimpse of the clinical setting inside. Barry puts a finger to her lips and drops into a crouch.

“What’s going o-”

“//Did you not see me-//” she does the finger on lips gesture again. You furrow your eyebrows.

Cord is sitting on an examination table, topless, her torso covered in bandages. Some of the bandages appear older, stained and worn. You can only see the back of a tall woman in a white dress as she leans in, using tweezers to pick the glass out of Cord’s face. //This must be Ruth.//

“What mess did Barry put you in this time?” Ruth asks.

“This wasn’t her fault. My own mistakes.”

“Do you really believe that or did Barry //tell you// to believe that?”

A bashful look flashes across Cord’s face. “Sorry, doctor…”

Ruth sighs, setting down the tweezers. “Don’t apologize to me. I know it’s not your fault.” She grabs a washcloth, runs it under some water, and uses it to dab up the blood on Cord’s face.

“Don’t be so concerned on my behalf, doctor.” Cord nuzzles into the rag, staring up at the doctor with bright eyes. This feels like an intimate moment you’re not meant to see, yet Barry seems to find this entertaining.

//“You’d think one of them would get on one knee and start reciting Shakespeare the way they’re acting, ey?”// Barry nudges you, apparently expecting you to find this funny. You can only frown.

“Alright, let’s see the leg.”

“It isn’t pretty, doctor.” Cord sheds her pants and you suck in a sharp breath. //Oh, no wonder she was limping, that’s broken//. You want to squirm away but Barry has a grip on you.

“Fuck,” Ruth hisses. “How badly does it hurt?”

“I can manage.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Ruth hooks a finger under Cord’s chin, tilting her head up to look her in the eyes.

“... it’s awful.” Cord’s voice cracks.

Ruth sighs and circles around Cord. Many of Ruth’s features mirror your own, with her brown skin and broad shoulders. Her face is utterly beautiful, striking brown eyes and pink lips, dark brown hair in a braid spilling past her shoulders. Your heart rate quickens. She rolls up the sleeve of her dress and jams her forearm into Cord’s mouth.

You jump involuntarily. Barry frowns.

Cord sinks her teeth into the meat of Ruth’s arm and laps of the blood. Ruth pets her hair, spurring her on. You can see the bruising on Cord’s leg fade before your eyes. Barry grows very tense.

“Alright! Alright!” Barry bursts in. “What’d I say about doing freaky shit in here?”

More than anything, you want to cover your face and hide. Cord tries to wriggle away, stopped by Ruth’s forceful hold.

“//Barry,//” Ruth growls. “What’d //I// say about interrupting me?”

“Cord, cut that shit out.” Barry puncates with a snap.

As if possessed, Cord squirms harder, forcing Ruth’s arm away. Blood runs down her face as she backs herself up into a corner. Ruth takes a step away, using the wash rag to wrap her arm.

“You should know better than to feed a demon, //doctor//.” Barry puts emphasis on the last word, as if mocking her.

Ruth rolls her eyes. “And just let you tear her apart for fun? You’re an asshole.”

Barry laughs. “You’re funny. Cord, put your clothes back on and step outside.”

Cord hunches down, hissing in pain, to gather her clothes off the floor. Ruth slaps the bloodied rag onto the table and storms right up to Barry. You’re half sure you’re about to witness a fight.

“I’m not done here!” She points an accusatory finger at her.

“Yes you are, actually. You’ve got a new patient.”

Ruth leans to the side to look at you. You had done your best to go unnoticed, becoming increasingly more uncomfortable with each passing second. Now, she’s looking directly at you in a mix of confusion and anger. Really makes you feel put on the spot.

“Who’s this supposed to be?” She snaps.

“Our new anchor.”

“Oh…” Ruth softens, now looking at you with concern. With Ruth watching you, you become viscerally aware of how you move. She tosses her braid over her shoulder to get it out of her face. You’re not used to being shorter than people, let alone another woman. Despite her size, Ruth moves with an elegance you’ve never been able to match.

//At least, you don’t think you could match.//

“Okay... Okay…” Ruth sighs, putting her head in her hands. “You, get the hell out of here,” she says to Barry. “When I am done with-” she gestures to you, “-here, I expect my patient //returned//.”

Barry laughs. “Oh Ruth, you're adorable. Cord, with me.” Head hung low, Cord steps out behind Barry, leaving you alone with Ruth.

“Damn bitch!” Ruth growls, kicking the metal stand holding her medical tools. She looks at you over her shoulder. “Sorry, hon. Not mad at you, just workplace drama. Hop on the table for me?”

“I don’t even know what just happened, or why I’m here.” You take a seat as the last five seconds catch up with you. “Anchor?”

“My name is Ruth Poole. You can call me Ruth or just Doctor if you’d like. I’m sure Barry already showed you the thing- well the lack of thing in the other room.” She flicks her fingers towards the door, which is locked this time.

“Um, yeah.”

“Is your hand broken, hon?”

“I- uh- I think so.”

“Looks it. I’ll take care of you.” Ruth takes your hand, dexterously straightening your fingers. It hurts like hell and yet you’re fascinated. “Good pain tolerance on you, didn’t even flinch.” The compliment makes you feel proud. She bandages and fits your broken fingers each with a splint. “So, tell me about yourself, where’d Barry pick you up from?”

It takes you a second to register the question, your mind occupied with her hands. You begin explaining the day you’ve had, and before you know it everything is spilling out of you. It feels good to lay out all the insanity you’ve experienced in such a short time.

It also feels good to have a pretty woman get her hands on you, but that’s a different thing.

She offers a sympathetic tisk, “Sounds rough. If you’d like, I could help you forget all about today.”

“I- huh?” Your cheeks flush.

Ruth reaches into a cabinet, pulling out a cattle prod looking device. It’s a bit bulkier, like a flashlight with switches and a keypad on it. You shift, scooting away from her.

“With this bad boy I can wipe anything clean from your mind.” She spins it between her fingers like a baton.

“Does it hurt?”

“No- well probably but you won’t remember a thing. One little zap-” she playfully jabs at you, “-and boom! No more shitty day!”

You swallow. “No. No I’d rather- No.”

“That’s fine, really your choice in the end.” With a shrug, Ruth drops the cattle prod onto the counter without much thought. “You’ve got two cracked ribs, nothing too serious. Normally I’d recommend rest, but I’m not really in charge here. Take an ibuprofen if it hurts and lay down when you can.”

“Alright.” You feel up your chest, prodding at the soft spot. “Are you done?”

“Yep, you’re all good. Here.” She tosses you a small bottle of painkillers. “I imagine Barry’s waiting outside.”

Sure enough, you exit the doctor’s office to find Barry and Cord in the room with Nothing. Barry is sitting in a fold-out chair, a second empty chair next to her. Cord is leaning against the wall, eyes drooping.

“Oh cool, you’re back! Come and take a seat.” Barry pats the empty seat. You sit and you both stare into Nothing. The //Hole// aches, but it’s familiar now.

“So, about your new job,” Barry begins.

“I don’t think I can accept it,” you interject, “I’m already employed and I don’t even know what you want me to do.”

“One,” she holds up a finger, “you don’t have a choice. Two,” she holds up a second finger, "Jesus I’m about to explain. Would you look at that?” She gestures at the cage.

You blink slowly. “What do you mean I don’t have a choice?”

“I mean what I mean. I want you to look really hard at the //Hole// over there. Imagine what it would be like to fall in there.”

You stare into it, into Nothing. You’re standing before a sinkhole and the ground is slippery. A cold chill runs down your spine.

“People fall into these Holes all the time, they’re all over this fucking town. We keep this one for research. When people fall in, they’re gone, dead to the world. No one remembers them at all. But what they’ve //done// and who they’ve //affected// are still there. So you’re left with all these people with gaps in their lives that they just can’t grasp onto.”

She regards you with a manic sort of look, pointing at her forehead.

“And then there’s people like you,” she points at your chest. “//You// can remember a person. Not well, but you //can//. In the chance one of us is erased, we take meticulous care to make sure the gap is visible. It’s our job, after all, to find what’s gone missing and make sure no one can find it’s absence.”

“I don’t- what?” You scratch your forehead, like you’re trying to pick at the gap.

“Our old anchor, I imagine, must’ve been pretty smart. Not only did she make her absence visible, but she left a trail right to her replacement! Genius!” She keeps gesturing, her hand movements becoming more and more erratic.

You claw harder at the gap, trying to grip a single image of your wife. “What do you mean by //trail to her replacement//?”

“The wedding ring. Written on the inside is code, made specifically for us. Proving she existed and was one of us. She probably only gave it to you so we could find you.”

//That’s not true. That can’t be true, don’t believe it//.

“So…” You stare at your hands. “I can remember these things that have been erased?”

“Yep. Which is why you can’t be allowed to leave.”

“B- but can’t you just find another anchor?!” You’re shaking.

“Not without wiping your brain first!” Barry laughs. Your stomach drops. She pats your shoulder, making you flinch. “Aw, damn, I’m sorry. I hate when relationships are based on threats of violence. I promise you’ll like it here. You’re gonna help us save lives.”

“Okay…” you whisper, leaning away from her.

“//Hey//, look at me.” You obey. “I know this wasn’t what you wanted, but you //really don’t// have a choice. Anchors, //real// anchors like you are //rare//, and I don’t have the time to find someone better. Either I force you or I have to wipe your memory of this whole event and you leave everyone here to fend for themselves.” She shrugs. “What’s it going to be? I won't judge you either way- or, well I will judge you actually.”

You consider this. Everything you’ve been through today, everything you’ve learned, everything you’re missing. You consider it more than you should. The answer should be pretty straightforward.

//And yet, Polly, you manage to pick the wrong one//.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Barry raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’ll help you. I’ll be your… anchor.”

Showing far too many teeth, Barry beams. She grabs your hand tightly in both of hers, giving it a vigorous shake. You sink into the seat, feeling hollow, like the Nothing in front of you.

“Welcome to the //Losing Dogs//! This calls for celebration! Cord!”

“The //what//?”

Cord stands up straight. “Sir?”

“Do we still have reservations for Spicy Crust Pizza tonight?”

“... you never made any reservations, sir.”

“Make reservations! Table for three- actually table for five! Say, an hour from now if you can.” She turns to you. “You like pizza, right?”

“I don’t really-? But sure.” Who are you to dictate anything about this situation?

“Awesome!” She claps your shoulder a little too hard. “Hope to make up for the whole– //threatening your life for a good cause//– thing.” She makes a clicking sound with her tongue.

Cord begins to exit the room.

“Oh! //Cord!//”

She freezes. “Sir?”

“Don’t let Ayla go out wearing the same outfit she’s been wearing.” Barry suddenly brightens and snaps her fingers. “//That’s// what I was forgetting! You have to meet Ayla! You’re dismissed, Cord.”

Looping her arm around yours, she lifts you out of the chair and drags you around the cage. There’s another door helpfully labeled //Tech//. She knocks on the door and opens it into a very dark room, illuminated only by a few computer screens. The floor //crinkles// underfoot.

Barry flips on the lights, revealing the floor is absolutely covered in trash. It stinks of a dumpster covered in an air freshener. A woman sitting in a swivel chair before a laptop spins around, sipping loudly out of a fast food cup. She’s a stout little woman with a masculine face who looks ten years older than she actually is. She has long black hair that shines with grease and when she squints her nose wrinkles.

“//Tone//,” she says, like it’s some kind of surname, her voice low.

“//Lancaster//,” Barry says, in a similar yet mocking tone.

“Hi…” you mumble, waving.

Barry kicks some empty soda cans out of the way and presents you to Ayla. “Ayla, this is our new anchor. //The hell was your name again?//”

“Polly-”

“This is Polly!” She claps you on the back. “Polly, this is Ayla. You two will be working very close together. So, get comfortable with each other.” Barry pats your shoulder and steps out, closing you in.

Ayla stares at you, sizing you up. You shift on your heels and nudge an empty wrapper with your foot. Without breaking eye contact, Ayla drops the fast food cup, grabs a soda can, and pulls the tab with her teeth.

“Do you like anime?”

“Excuse me?” Now you notice the wrinkled //Full Metal Alchemist// t-shirt she’s wearing.

“You look like an anime girl. With the hair.” She flicks a finger at her hair. Once you dyed your naturally brown hair a bright blue, but it’s long since faded and grown out. “I thought it might be a- thing. Y’know?”

“Uhh… No.” Self consciously, you run your fingers through your hair.

“Dang.” She turns back around to her laptop. She nudges over a couple of… //interesting// anime figures.

“So uh… What do you //do// here? I don’t really understand.”

“What do //any// of us do here?”

“I-”

“I collect information. Basically anything and everything that happens here. And then, if something gets eaten, you use your //memory// thing to point it out to me. Then the other guys do the important stuff.”

“Did you know the other anchor very well?”

“I assume I did. I don’t even know who she is, but I know she’s gone.” Ayla shrugs, unbothered. “Is this yours?” She holds up your ring.

“Oh yes!” You snatch it from her. Before putting it back on, you pause, and check the inside. “//Here I was//? What’s that mean?”

“Means whoever owned that ring was one of us.” She tips back one of her figures, revealing the same message scratched onto the base. “All in case we go missing and the others have to cover up our absence. Also have my name and my home address, all just in case.”

“Weird.”

“I know right?”

You share an awkward silence.

“I think… I was married to the old anchor. It might’ve just been to… mark me out.”

“Sorry for your loss.”

“It sucks because I can’t even remember //who// I’ve lost. Just that I //have//.” You cringe, rubbing your forehead with your palm.

“Yeah…” Ayla shifts, making the chair creak. “Her name was Vivian. I still have some of the records on her.”

The name feels familiar but at the same time it brings no picture to your mind. You whisper the name to yourself, trying to connect a single feeling or moment to it, coming up with nothing. You run your thumb over the //V// on your ring.

//Vivian.//

“We found it all scribbled on the inside of various records. Her name, position, home.” Ayla fidgets with her thumbs. “Tone doesn’t like me talking about it, but… I feel like you should know.”

You stare at the //V// for a long time, letting the silence stretch on for too long.

“Thank you.”

Ayla glances at you. “It’s nothing.”

“I’m… going to leave now.” You appreciate Ayla, but it’s unpleasant standing here.

“Cool, turn the lights off on your way out.”

You leave Ayla’s room, turning out the lights as you were requested. Unsure of what to do next, you do some poking around.

From what you can see, in this bunker of sorts, there’s the main room with the cage, Ayla and Ruth’s office, and then there’s the make-shift bedrooms you passed by on your way in. A few doors are open, revealing mostly bare and empty rooms with beds and clothes. The rest are locked.

Except, there’s one closed door that isn’t locked. You didn’t even intend to open it, you were just checking the handle when the door opens. This room is the emptiest of them all, not even a blanket on the bed.

“There a problem?” You jump, looking over at Cord. She’s sitting down in the corner of the room, having not even a chair, a laptop sitting on the ground between her legs. She’s got her hat off, letting you see more of her face.

“Oh I’m sorry- I was just lost. Sorry to intrude, I don’t really know what to do.”

“Most of this work is waiting. You’ll get used to it.” She glances at you, then returns to her computer work.

You fidget with your hands. “Sorry about earlier. For attacking you and all.”

“You had every right to. Don’t apologize to me.”

Unsure of what else to do, you quietly back out and close the door. There’s… not a lock on the handle.

You return to the large room that contains Nothing. There’s something magnetic to it, begging you to come closer. You pick a corner to sit in, hug your knees to your chest, and wait.

…

When the day ends you find yourself back in the parking lot behind the laundromat. Nothing you do can keep the cold off. The entire group is together, standing around a red sedan. Cord is wearing a short green dress and Ruth has swapped her white dress for a classy pair of black dress pants and a white button down. Even Ayla has swapped from one rumpled anime shirt to another. You yourself haven’t had the chance to get your clothes from home so you’re stuck with torn sleeves for the night.

“Don’t crash this one,” Barry says as she hands Cord the keys.

“Understood.”

Barry makes a move to get into the passenger’s seat and you’re about to get in the back when Cord clears her throat.

“May I make a small request, sir?”

Barry pauses. “Sure, what is it?”

“I would like to request that Mrs. Finn takes the passenger’s seat.”

Barry glances at you, then smirks. “Alright, alright.” She backs up and approaches you, gently pushing you out of the way. “You've //scared// her,” Barry whispers into your ear as she passes.

She piles into the back. Ruth crawls over Ayla’s lap, forcing Ayla to sit between them. Nervously, you take the passenger’s seat. Cord side-eyes you and begins driving. No one talks during the ride. The tension is thick, suffocating. Cord takes a sharp turn and your stomach jumps into your throat. There’s an invisible weight on your chest that won’t let you fill your lungs all the way.

And you’re supposed to eat after this ride too.

The Spicy Crust Pizza's parking lot is surprisingly packed for this hour. Seeing the neon sign from the distance you recall that you used to work here and you pray that none of your old coworkers recognize you.

The inside is fairly typical of a slightly higher quality pizza chain. Booths line the outer walls and tables fill the remaining space. Whatever music is popular plays over the speakers. The group is seated at a round table right smack in the center of the restaurant. You place yourself between Barry and Ruth. A waitress, luckily no one you know, sets four menus down on the table and takes your drinks. She doesn’t seem to notice or acknowledge Cord, who remains silent.

As you enter, you feel a tugging in your mind. The same sort of feeling you get when back in that bunker of a base. You look around the building, unsure of where the feeling is coming from. You don’t find the source, but you do find someone staring right at you.

A quick glance around the room reveals several pairs of eyes observing your group. A shiver runs down your spine. The feeling, like being drawn in by quicksand, only gets more suffocating.

“What’s going on here?” you whisper to Barry, hoping that you’re just noticing things that aren’t there.

“Huh? Oh, we’re being ambushed,” Barry says, causally, not even looking up from her menu. “Would you guys mind sharing two large pizzas? We can go half and half with both of them.”

“What-?!” you whisper-shout.

She brings a finger to her lips and winks, as if that communicates anything. Ruth sighs, slaps down her menu, and stands up.

“Going to the bathroom. Don’t have any fun without me.”

Your eyes follow Ruth as she walks away, and you notice you’re not the only one watching her. The chatter of the fine dining establishment fades out, replaced by your heartbeat.

“Sir?” Cord says. “I’m sure you know, but we’re not alone here. Would you like me to do something?”

“No, no. Just wait. We don’t need to start a scene.” Barry glances at you, noticing how tense you are. “You know you’re in no danger right? Don’t let those weirdos scare you.”

“It’s not that.” You lean in, rough strained, sweat dripping from your forehead. //“There’s Nothing here.”// You whisper, putting your head in your hand.

“Oh.” Barry sets down her menu. “In that case we //should// do something then. Ayla, I would suggest you evacuate everyone. Pull the fire alarm if you have to.”

“Damn, I was hoping for a normal meal for once.” Ayla tosses down her menu and stands up. You don’t like how your party is getting split up.

“And Cord- Cord pay attention to me.”

“I’m paying attention, sir,” Cord says, but she’s turned around in her seat, her eyes glued to Ruth across the building. Ruth is standing right in front of the bathroom, talking to the person you saw before.

“Cord, there’s a hole somewhere near the restaurant. I’m going to need you to-”

The person talking to Ruth pulls out a gun.

The following series of events happens in the span of twenty seconds. In the commotion, the details get lost or blurred. I will do my best to recount them to you in order as they happened.

First, you feel your stomach and your mind //drop//, like a weight’s been dumped on you. You feel as though the entire building has shifted at an angle. You black out for a second, your head hits the table, and you come to just in time to see Cord leap out of her chair.

Then, Cord disappears, and a //monster// takes her place. Bones snap and skin tears as a truck sized dog bounds across the restaurant. It’s hard to wrap your mind around. The beast knocks over several tables, scattering chairs and people.

Screaming ensues. Ayla pulls the fire alarm, which is pointless as everyone is already running in terror from the beast, but the siren adds to the moment. You feel the floor underneath you give away, revealing Nothing underneath. Barry grabs you by the shoulders and practically lifts you off the ground. She charges out of the building through the fire exit and dumps you onto the pavement.

The wall of the building comes crashing down, torn through by the //beast// that was once Cord. The beast collapses on the ground and spits up a human head. Ruth and Ayla come running out through the torn down wall.

The restaurant, and those few poor souls unlucky enough to be trapped inside disappear. Consumed by Nothing. You see someone you once knew disappear, or at least, you may have. Everyone who escaped the building pack into their cars and speed off in a panic. You blink, open your eyes, and you’re in a half-empty parking lot. You can barely remember why you were here at all.

Except, you //do// remember why you were here. While the others look around, bewildered, confused, filthy, you look at the place where Spicy Crust Pizza used to be. There was //never// a Spicy Crust Pizza here.

You break down into tears. The moment has passed but it sticks to you. You no longer feel the tug of Nothing, but you //remember// how it felt. You remember //everything//. No one stops to comfort you.

Ruth drops to her knees, resting her head on the beast’s chest. Ayla looks around, brows furrowed. Barry grabs you by the collar and forces you to your feet. Her face is burning red.

“What the hell just happened!?” She shouts, you can feel her breath on your face.

You open your mouth, stumbling over a few vague words. Barry clenches her teeth.

“God damn it, Polly! You’re supposed to remember these things! You //need// to pay fucking attention! Or you’ll get us all killed!” She throws you back onto the ground. You can’t even catch your breath.

“Hey! Lighten up!” Ayla shouts.

Barry turns to Ayla, her gaze sharp. Ayla cowers.

“Lighten up? You want me to //lighten up?//” With each word, Barry takes another step forwards and Ayla takes a step backwards. “Do you even know what just happened? Do you know what we’ve lost? The people we failed to save?”

Ayla reaches the concrete sidewalk and trips, falling onto the ground.

“And you!” She shouts, pointing at the beast. “Turn back to normal! I know I //did not// give you permission to do anything!”

The beast makes a weak groan. Ruth backs up as the beast slowly begins to shrink. You hear what sounds like joints cracking and popping and then there’s Cord, on her knees, the severed head laying next to her. She looks ragged, eyes on the ground, panting heavily. Blood pours from her mouth, it’s unclear who it belongs to. Barry approaches and strikes her across the face.

Everyone draws in a collective gasp.

“Barry!” Ruth screams, charging towards her. Barry shoves Ruth away, knocking her to the ground.

“You have one job! To do what I say! I //never// want to see you like this again!” Barry shouts.

“I’m sorry sir,” Cord mumbles, bruise forming on her cheek.

“As for the rest of you!” She turns on her heel. “I can’t fucking believe you guys! You couldn’t even coordinate for //two fucking seconds//! Do you want to end up like- to end up like…?”

As if shoved by some unseen force, she stumbles backwards. The anger on her face melts away into a cold terror. She grips her chest, sucking in a sharp breath.

From her pocket she pulls out a strange looking item. The cattle-prod thing Ruth showed you before. No one moves or says a word, as Barry wipes the sweat off her forehead and jams the device into the center. Everyone cringes as she pushes the button and the device crackles with electricity. Her features soften, her shoulders untense, her pupils shrink then dilate. She drops her arms to her side and repockets the device.

“Phew, what a night, huh?” She says casually. “Cord, my keys?”

Silently, Cord reaches into her dress pocket, and hands Barry her keys.

“Let’s go home, alright? It’s too late for work.” She approaches her car, expecting everyone to follow suit.

You glance around, looking for some explanation from your teammates. They all look uncomfortable, refusing to look you or each other in the eyes. Cord is the first to stand up and follow Barry. Ruth and Ayla brush themselves off and follow suit.

Ruth offers out a hand to help you up. You have so many questions, but the tension in the air is so thick you’re afraid of breaking it. All of you pack back into Barry’s car. Barry sits there, smiling, as if nothing had happened.

As you drive back to the headquarters, you keep your gaze locked onto the empty space where there never was a Spicy Crust Pizza.

You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.

//And I am so, so sorry, Polly. I never wanted you to get wrapped up in this.//

[[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box]]
[[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box-end]]

1 - Polly - The Hole

Module Styles

Inline Styles

Includes

CSS Classes

Page Source