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"It's a great honor to have you here, Dr. Pierre Menard."
"Don't speak too highly of me. I'm only a man."
"Don't say things like that. Every new pataphysicist heard of your fight with SCP-4028. You're a modern day legend, Dr. Menard."
"I suppose news of it has spread far and wide. Regardless, I was merely doing my job. I'm not some noble knight."
The two Foundation researchers converse in the hallways of Site-78. Dr. Menard, former Director of the Pataphysics Department, had visited the site to present an orientation to the site's new Pataphysics recruits. Walking beside him is Researcher Quinn Doodles, the site's Pataphysics Department head, one of the few pataphysicists remaining after the Chaos Insurgency attacked the site. Together, the two are headed towards the auditorium, stopping by the department breakroom along the way. However, as they discuss the narrative anomalies they encountered in their careers, they get a gut feeling that something is about to go horribly wrong.
Outside the Foundation facility, somewhere in Chugwater, Wyoming, a group of Serpent's Hand members convene at an abandoned building. Accompanying this half a dozen people is a short blonde woman in a strange uniform and carrying a lance taller than her. She speaks to the group's leader, a man named Federico.
"Verily, dost thou seek to enact justice?"
"Indeed, Don Quixote. I wish to enact justice. Justice for the men and women unlawfully imprisoned by the Foundation. Those Jailers' punishments are long overdue."
"Those curs… Prithee, how may I assist thee?"
"You may assist me by storming that site." He points to a inconspicuous building in the distance.
"But it appeareth ordinary. Do thine eyes see true?"
"Yes, they do. That is Site-78, one of those Jailers' many bastions. They hide in plain sight while they perform villainous deeds."
"Then what awaits thee? Let us depart posthaste!"
"Hold on now, Don Quixote. As we are now, we do not possess the strength to take them on, for those bastions are full of guards and wizards alike. We need a cavalry."
"Are thou in possession of such cavalry?"
"That cavalry is you, Don Quixote. Your shoes, Rocinante, hold back great power. Undo them, and you shall be triumphant."
Don Quixote visibly staggers upon hearing Federico's statement. "Where did you learn that?"
"I know who you are, Sancho. I just hope that you can trust me with this plan."
"If you truly do know me, then you know how dangerous your proposition is. That form is consumed by the thirst of my Kindred. And you seek to unleash it against these Jailers?"
"Correct. I want you to unleash carnage upon them. Let them suffer for what they have done."
Turmoil gathers within her soul. She does not know where she is, where her family is, where her manager is, and then this man shows up with knowledge of who she is? Who should I trust? Him? His views seem extreme. Yet, she can trust these Jailers less. She hadn't even met one of them. As these thought seize her mind, another thing seizes her. A couple of glyphs are apparent on her body, binding her in place.
"Samson, please remove her shoes."
Don Quixote could do nothing but squirm as bloodlust overcomes her. Her eyes turn red. In an instant, the people surrounding her are dead, thrown onto the wall by a powerful force. Sancho takes a moment and looks upon the carnage the wrought, counting the corpses left behind. However, an inconsistency presents itself: only five people are in the room, as if one of them had vanished into thin air, carrying Rocinante. Left with no choice but to seek the Foundation in hopes of finding out where she is and who stole Rocinante, she gathers the blood of the fallen in her right hand, congealing into her signature Hardblood lance. As she makes her way to Site-78, her expression grows grimmer and grimmer.
Meanwhile, the two pataphysicists continue conversing within the Pataphysics Department breakroom.
"More milk for your coffee, Dr. Menard?"
"That would be appreciated." Doodles pours milk from a carton into Menard's cup. "I haven't seen anyone else here since I've arrived. Where are they?"
"The Pataphysics Department is making preparations for your orientation, Director Richter is handling some paperwork, MTF Omega-45 is elsewhere in the state, and everyone else is minding their own businesses. We never have enough employees around here."
"That's a shame."
"Yeah, well, that's how it goes in Site-78."
As the two talk, another person enters the room. His hair and lab coat are messy.
"Uneventful day for you, huh, Chudley?"
"Yeah, I suppose."
"May I be introduced to your fellow, Doodles?"
"That's Researcher Gregory Chudley, sir. Former head of Pataphysics, but he's since gotten his own department."
"Ah, Chudley! Isn't he one of the people containing the Set of Nine? Forgive my unfamiliarity, but what is his department named?"
Doodles audibly exhales. "The Department of Mundane Artifacts and Uneventful Data Evaluation. MAUDE for short."
"I see. What a curious fellow."
Doodles pinches the bridge of his nose as his acquaintance pulls out his laptop.
Outside, security begins noticing an entity intentionally approaching the site. A few guards are sent to question her.
"Ma'am, this area is not open to the public. Do you mind stating your name and intent?"
"The name's Sancho. Please get out of my way. I don't want to hurt you. I just want to figure out where I am."
"Ma'am, you must know that unauthorized entry is forbidden."
"You're the Foundation, right? I heard you're men of science. Surely you'd be able to figure out how I ended up here."
"Are you okay, ma'am? Do you need some water?"
The word rings in her ear. Water. The bane of Bloodfiends. Can't he see the eyes? The red eyes? Can't resist mocking us, huh?
No. He's clearly clueless. You're in a different world. You can't expect them to know what you are. Maybe there are no Bloodfiends in this world, and that's why they aren't aware.
But that man from earlier is clearly aware. How did he know? Can he read minds? Is he from the City himself, one of Limbus Company's many employees originally? That can't be right, he would've acted confused too. Argh, my head. All of these horrible thoughts crying out for…
For…
Blood. Crying out for blood.
The security officer in front of her is savaged beyond recognition. The only feature she can distinguish is his hand, holding a water bottle.
"Hostile entity detected. Open fire!"
Sancho dispatches the site's guards with ease using her various Hardblood weapons. The more they fall, the more powerful she becomes, and the more thirsty she grows for blood. Her reason shrinks as she herself grows unrecognizable, becoming a monster unbefitting the image of a proper Fixer.
Alarms begin blaring across Site-78. The Pataphysics Department's skeleton crew begin directing the new recruits to safety. The other departments evacuate under the orders of their superiors. Director Richter calmly leaves her office.
"Not again," Chudley commented. He closes his laptop and catches up with Menard and Doodles, themselves evacuating to safety. "How far are Johnston and Omega-45?"
"They won't be here in an hour or so," Doodles replied, checking his device.
"Any other MTFs in the area?"
"No. At least, none closer than Johnston's."
"Sh—"
As Chudley utters the word, the wall to the three's left is pulverized into rubble, giving them a view on the Bloodfiend rampaging. She impales a security guard with her lance before forming a bow and sniping another. As she slaughters their reinforcements, Menard notices a metal name tag attached to her uniform which reads a familiar name: "Don Quixote". However, before he could do anything with that information, Sancho unsubtly glares at them, causing them to turn and hide behind an intact wall.
"Since our way out is clearly blocked, I have another suggestion," Chudley commented, taking his breath.
"Let's hear it," Menard replied. Doodles is too exhausted to stop him.
Chudley pulls out his ID from his breast pocket. A red "4" is clearly visible on it. "We can access the basement. Maybe we might even be able to fight back. The Arms and Equipment Department is there. We can grab some of the stuff in the armory, the Gauss rifles and the body armor."
"You're out of your mind, Chudley," Doodles replied, mustering enough breath for his counter-argument. "Have you seen what that monster can do? We won't even be able to land a shot at her."
"If you're unconvinced, I heard that Site-313 just sent a set of anomalous weapons, SCP-3452, for testing purposes. They can make their wielders like athletes. One of them is apparently Durendal, whatever—"
"I'm in," Menard answered, recognizing the name. "Lead us there."
"Yes, sir."
The three take a flight of stairs down to the basement and into the Arms and Equipment Department, where they begin equipping themselves with armor created with SCP-6952.
"Alright, now lead us to SCP-3452, Chudley."
"They should be… here."
He unlocks a locker, revealing SCP-3452, a set of melee weapons. Only ten are present, the ones in Foundation possession.
"Are you sure about this, Dr. Menard?" Doodles asked.
"Yes, I am," Menard answered, feeling the blade of a longsword. "You're a pataphysicist, right? Then you should know the power of a story. Especially the story of a sword like this one." He swings the longsword to recall his rusty techniques. "This is Durendal, the sword of Roland, one of Charlemagne's paladins. I trust that you are familiar with it?"
"Yes, sir, but think of the consequences. If you head straight into combat, there's no telling if you'll come back in one piece or not. A man of your caliber shouldn't be exposed to such danger."
"You speak too lowly of me. I assure you that I am more than capable of handling her, at least until Omega-45 arrives, with this sword. Now tell me, did you receive any sort of intel on that device of yours?"
Doodles reads his notes. "Her name is Sancho. Her anomalous ability is to manipulate blood. She has a preference for swords and… lances." Something lights up in his head.
"The author must've planned something with my arrival here. Now's the time to fire that Chekhov's gun." He carries the longsword with confidence. Behind him is Chudley, wielding a Zweihänder. Finally convinced, Doodles selects one of the weapons: a halberd.
As Sancho turns to face whatever remains of Site-78's security force, she is met by three enemies. The three men begin firing their Gauss rifles. However, she gathers the blood of the guards and forms them into a barrier, shielding her from the hail of projectiles. Seizing the opportunity, Chudley switches to his Zweihänder and goes for a rear attack as the two pataphysicists maintain their fire. Sancho, nearly surprised, parries his sword's blow with a blade of her own. The two continue to clash as Menard abandons his fire and pulls out Durendal to cut through the blood barrier. Combined with Doodles' sustained fire, this catches Sancho off guard as she reels from the blow. Chudley returns to the two pataphysicists' side, bloodied and bruised.
"Sancho, is it? Please, return to your senses. You know this is not who you are," Menard spoke.
"How— Nevermind," she replied. She crafts her lance once more and goes for a reckless attack, only for Menard to dodge the attack.
"Come on, Sancho. Aren't you Don Quixote's squire, the one who balances out his ingenious ideas with practicality?"
She slowly turns towards Menard. She recognizes that voice. The voice of her sire, Don Quixote.
"Is that… you, Father?"
"Not by blood, but perhaps in spirit."
"And that sword you wield?"
"Durendal, the sword of Roland."
"Durandal… the sword of the Black Silence's husband. How did you obtain such a thing?"
"Because us men of the Foundation are stewards of such relics, Sancho. Not villains. Not giants. While we may not be perfect, we mean no harm."
"But what about the men and women you imprisoned?"
"Were you sent here by the Serpent's Hand? We only secure and contain those who are anomalous to protect the rest of humanity."
"So you are indeed Jailers then." She raises her lance, ready to strike. However, gravely wounded, she stumbled and fell.
"We imprison to uphold a law, Sancho. A law of normalcy. For a world where people can sleep at night without worrying about monsters."
Her mind flashes back to the horrors of the City. The Old G Corp. soldiers, rummaging for Enkephalin. The half-frozen miners beneath the J Corp. casino. The N Corp. Inquisitors, partially Corroded. The Brazen Bull rampaging through K Corp.'s Nest. The Whales and Mermaids of the Great Lake. The uncanny Wild Hunt. Her ravenous Kindred, thirsting for a single drop of blood.
Blood. That's what she's here for.
Sancho gets up and clashes a Hardblood sword against Durendal, only for Menard to shatter his opponent's weapon.
"Please, I implore you, Sancho. Just stop. Nothing good will come if you keep on fighting."
She stumbles once more.
"I… I have to…"
"No. No, you don't. You can rest, Sancho."
"I… see." She looks to her surroundings. An exhausted wielder of the Zweihänder. A nervous fellow carrying a halberd. A man offering her a hand in her time of greatest need. She grabs the hand and gets up. However, overwhelmed by the wounds she suffered from raiding the site, she falls, and almost by instinct, Menard catches her.
In the following days, Menard becomes somewhat acquainted with Site-78, having decided to stay and wait for Don Quixote's treatment and full recovery. MTF Omega-45 quickly captured Samson, the last survivor of the six Serpent's Hand members, and returned Rocinante to their rightful owner, allowing her to return to a somewhat normal state. One day, in the Pataphysics Department breakroom, Menard begins typing up a document.
Item #: SCP-████
Object Class: Euclid