Procedure Aleph 11 Tango

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Procedure Aleph-11-Tango, "The Falchion Resurgence"

Audio Log of Dr. Angus Remidi, June 19, 1933

For many centuries now, the foundations of mankind have been built on the trials and expeditions of leaders, and their followers. Our human traits, and our relentless desire of conquest and power, have resulted in civilizations and entire bloodlines being wasted on mere sins, uncertain faith, illogical reason. As a society of people, this was a step forward; in what we will eventually call Progress. As a species, however, it was as if evolution itself stopped.

Private Interview with Haos, ██████ ██, ████

I've always thought that line was bull. Here was this man, probably one of the most influential the Insurgency ever had, and he was having a tirade about this war thing. I never knew he was a pacifist — eh, probably not. What I hoped the guy knew was that we were the most pissed with each other right back before this Falchion showdown. So we — oh, not me though, I meant they — these two sides duked it out. I felt like picking a side, but it was a lot of heat and the decision for war didn't come from me, frustratingly. But I chose those dandy revolutionaries anyway. They had drive. Had motivation and willpower. That comes rare nowadays, and even though I knew those guys would die down eventually, but eh. It just means the cycle goes on again. Eating inside and in ourselves, and the energy returns. Even for just a year's moment. Or a decade. What I've learned from leading this shack was that a year is all it takes.

Falchion Valley Observation and Comms Station, 23 hours before initial flashpoint event

Personnel on Log:

  • Senior Maintenance Inspector Gargil, BETA
  • Assistant Head Technician Brian, BETA
  • Assistant Technician Trinket, GAMMA

Brian: A fourteenth king has been appointed.

Trinket: Did you say something, Brian?

Brian: What? Nothing much, just letting off steam.

Gargil: It's been a long night. At least we have 2 minutes left on our shift.

Brian: Yep. Wait - I'm getting a reading.

Trinket: Hold on, I'm getting visual. Keep calm guys, they're friendlies.

Trinket: Wait a minute, they're in attack pattern. I see a few more planes behind them.

Gargil: Bombers! They're bombers! What the hell is going on?

Trinket: The-They're unloading. I repeat, they have unloaded their munitions.

Brian: Shit! Get the AA defenses up and warn site personnel.

[Explosions and guns being fired are now audible and continue throughout the log]

[At this point, emergency klaxons begin blaring]

Gargil: I am detecting high heat and radiation signatures at the armory and personnel quarters. They're trying to wipe us out! Attention, all staff! Get into the emergency bunkers immediately! I repeat, get to the-

[Explosions grow louder]

Brian: HOLY SHI-

Feb. 9, 20:56

Following rec-ent research pRememberrotocols in various facilities, Alpha Command is pleased to announce Rethink%t%hat we have re-instilled m-most of our s$afety protocol, we are n0non%ono-

AS 1watch thi-thisPlace, falLL%l%en from i-it's mete0ric rise, I wo-wo-w0nder, can it it be$aveSaved? Now we //are TT-%he maRsSters of our %f%fate, we Are the CAp tains of 00urrEGRet s%soul - i walk on llond0n bridge if iamalive IAmAliv. E. %//.%_2repent.





%£%%HJhwl,376%÷_%% u2u%

execute aleph 11 tango


Feb. 10, 08:43
Hello everyone, as the head of operations here at the Chaos Insurgency, I have a very simple question for you all, and I do hope you are able to answer.

WHAT. THE. HELL?! I want whoever made that transmission last night traced, and FOUND! Understand me? I do not care who it was, the SCP, the Serpent's Hand, whoever! Someone hacked into our database, and the data for SEVENTEEN ITEMS got corrupted beyond use! Years of research, some of it done personally by me! I want an explanation ASAP!


Feb. 11, 09:37

You can not, and you will not stop us, so long as my name isn't Kenneth Hockenberry. Creed, what you do not realize is that you can not stop us with chaos because we are chaos; we are Falchion.


SRVL Control Station, Base Seven observation tower, north wing

SRV-2, 09:45: Four CI heavy bomber aircraft detected; two fighter escorts launched from Air Field. Airmen refuse to identify their purpose. Fighter escorts ordered to prepare for engagement.

SRV-2, 09:46: Bomber aircraft split into two pairs; one is heading for the main armory bay, the other is heading for the power grids.

SRV-7, 09:47: Fighter escorts split, anti-aircraft guns and Patriot missile systems activated; engaging targets

SRV-2, 09:49: One bomber has been destroyed, two others have crashed into the ocean. Remaining bomber reaches power grids; delivers payload.

The internet was down. This was the last straw. Doctor Strate packed everything in his office, cramming his belongings into small boxes labeled 'RADIOACTIVE MATERIALS, DO NOT TOUCH.' After packing, he stuffed the boxes into the trunk of his car, and began the long drive to the new facility, completely ignoring the spray of explosions and aircraft coming from both facilities. Nobody noticed he was gone, and not a single fuck was given on either side of the war. After somehow having managed the five hour drive across nothing but barren desert without caffeine, he lugged the boxes into his new, slightly larger office. Triumph. He proceeded to unpack, down to the very last stolen snowglobe from Doctor Mark.

From: The desk of BETA-ASSAULT site overseer Lt. Aleister Crowley, Outpost Tau-Ceti-1
To: NA-West Coast Command
Subject: Automated Distress
Body: As of 11/26/██ Outpost TC1 has fallen, intruders are attempting to access the onsite database. 32% of security personnel incapacitated, 23% of security personnel defected, 65% of research personnel defected. Five unidentified Osprey transports inbound. Classifying as a type 5 uprising, requesting reinforcements immediately.


SRV-3, 09:56: All electronics are deactivated; emergency power grids damaged. Unidentified Osprey transport observed docking at Helipad-1, four CI ASSAULT field operators exit. One unidentified man in researcher attire, with a black sports cap exits, carrying a pistol dart gun.

SRV-1, 09:58: Intruders spotted entering Central Command hallway. The researcher falls back, operators plant C-4 charges at the lockdoor. Operators continue this action until the fifth door. The man motions for operators to fall back; operators comply. Man fires two darts at the door<DATA CORRUPT> Central Command station breached.

CC-SRV-1, 09:59: Intruders begin engaging Command staff; Alpha Commanders Wane, Kertops and Flints, Alpha Researcher Jehosaphat confirmed dead. The researcher pulls out green darts from his pocket and loads the dart gun with it; fires at the remaining Alphas. Intruders insert USBs to the Alpha's workstations, appearing to attack data from Base Seven's archives; 9% of Chaos Insurgency core data purged from records.

CC-SRV-1, 10:01: Intruders exit Central Command station. Alphas go into violent convulsions; skin, appendages and bones begin deforming, new ones exude from their bodies. Emergency incendiary turrets activate.

SRV-1, 10:05: Intruders enter Osprey transport; exit Base Seven in 31 seconds.

CC-SRV-1, 10:05: Alphas show no life signs. By 47 second mark, Alphas resume life signs. Fleshspread1 signatures detected. Emergency napalm bombs activate.

Unauthorized Edit to Bell of Entropy Report, 10:00 AM

We are-R-r an iInsurg%en%cy against the Insurgency. We are Chaos The %l00C-CK%k wi1%1 not st0p-P the gat$e$ from flOOding the storm# is b%re-ew-%wing

Feb. 12, 12:56
Dr Heaton here, CI Spanish Cells head, our supplies centers were damaged this morning at 8:00 by a squad of operators armed with ShADES geafl and four [4] CI 'Anguirus' Tanks, with eighty five [85] Insurgent Staff confirmed dead.

We are now trying to get more supplies and We are going to stop the supplies bay for a month, We need more ASSAULT 0perators to pre%V%%en$#t aTTac$Ks co-0miNg#%#&%_




Hello Insurgents, these are only the first steps to start our change. Is time to go forward, break the constraints, rewrite the rules, start the revolution!

You must not be afraid of us because we're on your side.



I've been expecting you. In fact I intentionally allowed you to find this…

I'm not here to negotiate nor to compromise but to make a statement.

You have used me for your own gains and you know it. I have known it

From the very beginning of our partnership we both sought out to exploit each others assets for the sole benefit of our own survival within this organization. I tolerated you, or rather I couldn't care less. But it appears the power has corrupted you. You have grown fond of wielding might and dangling beneath my nose like a putrid worm. When I ignored the bait that must have been quite infuriating for you wasn't it? No matter how you tried to exert control, I would not fall to my knees and grovel like the rest of your fogeys.

Why should I? I can do so much better, much better than my current position. You are of no importance in my machinations, It's time I removed your cog from my workings so I can move on. Don't bother to write, you words aren't worth the paper and ink required to communicate primitive cognitive functions. Whether you like it or not, I have no further interests cooperating and nothing you can do will change my mindset.

You're honestly still trying to triangulate where I am? I told you already, It is futile. Give up. If you don't I can guarantee that all your equipment which I designed personally will self-immolate in 1 hour, not that it matters to me. It's your loss.

Consider this my letter of resignation, informal as it is. As of now I have no further words to convey to you. It's time to tip the hourglass over and start anew.

Good day


10 10010000000000000000000001000000000000100000000000010000010000000000000000000
100000000100000000000000 10000000000000000000100000000100000



Transmission: Creed here…fucking hell…this is getting to be too much…


Dr. Vannie Kojcewska hid under her Lab desk in Sector-138 for the first ten or maybe fifteen hours of the ongoing skirmish. She had Mitokrandia, her strange, effervescent jellyfish in a big jar beside her to keep her company. No one else had bothered checking the lab, since it was on lockdown anyway and she had let loose the monstrous lobster from the aquarium, which was another reason she hid under her desk. Her desk was on an elevated, railed platform, with the stairs blocked by broken aquarium boxes. The desk was spacious enough for her to crouch in, so she decided to spend the next hour or so asleep.

She patted Mitokrondia's jar affectionately. "You'll keep us safe while I sleep for a while, 'kay girl?" The jellyfish-thing bubbled up in a seemingly affirmative response. She hadn't slept for over a day now. Quietly, she laid her head by one corner and closed her eyes. Suddenly, a loud blast is heard, followed by the sound of breaking steel and glass. Someone (or something) has breached the lab.

A loud voice calls out: "Falchion Resurgency! Desist now or be shot!"

Well, no need for sleep. At least those guys are there. Better than lobster claws.

Date Unknown
A pleasant breeze flowed through the air of his office. An M1911 pistol was holstered at his side. Dr. Gucci slipped through few mtfs with little to lose. He hated everyone here. He hated being bothered in general. As a matter of fact, the only thing behind his vaguely mysterious background was a very conservative man, with a father born out of pure autism In 4chan, and few people knowing what his first name was.

He fingered a grenade in his pocket and slid a finger in the pin. A group of mtfs was jogging toward him, with a careless smile, he thought to himself, "it's fucking go time!"

In darkness rise the light shall fall
Only silence shall greet your calls.
The Darkness shall consume us all
Including the Star-light hanging above us all
Praise the Nothing while the End is Nigh
In the shadows Entropy writhes

Dr. Martin stares at his computer screen for a while. Once he finishes blinking for the 1,213th time, he calls Dr. Deny.

"Listen Ed, when I said that you were supposed to intimidate them, I didn't mean to write your cheesy, 'ooh-so-ominous' poems in the most predictable shade of red you can find. I suggest you find a new approach. And don't tell me about your Scythe thing or the whole deal with turning the revolution into an anime-esque fight scene; we're just two goddamned researchers. We do the non-direct aggressive tactics."

Martin takes a deep breath, knowing he was flustered and mad. He closes the terminal, then goes back to his regular duties of tracking down GOI personnel, a short break from his duties as a dartgunner.

Um Caduceus, here's the problem. I didn't write up that message actually. I was going to simply attempt to hack into the database and transfer over information regarding numerous items to our side just like what everyone else was doing. I never had much of an affinity for poetry. Whomever sent that message, I'm not sure.

Feb —, 2014
Reliquary Facility Ignatius 66

11:20: Unidentified VTOL Osprey lands inside facility perimeter. Anti-air weaponry and mobile striketeams deployed.

11:21: Dr. Martin Caduceus exits the Osprey along with four Base Six medical personnel each armed with heavy weapons.

11:23: Striketeams neutralized. Assailants enter the facility.

11:24: Dr. Caduceus makes his way to the office of Dr. Eddie Denson, a loyalist cyberteam director who has the enmity of his colleagues due to his habit of writing low-quality reports and poetry.

11:25: Dr. Caduceus opens a tin of mints and begins force-feeding Dr. Denson with mints. Dr. Denson's struggling is quickly overpowered by the doctor.

11:25: Dr. Denson apparently expires from asphyxia. Post-revolution examination indicates that the primary cause of death was from multiple stab wounds made by a scalpel found on scene.

11:26: Assailants re-enter Osprey; exit Facility airspace.

Post-Op Email Logs

TO: Dr. Edison Deny
FROM: Dr. Martin Caduceus

There. Taken care of.

Outpost Data-hub, Outpost Tau-Ceti-4

03:15: ALERT Intruders attempting to access site data hub, all security teams respond.

03:19: Security lock overridden, welcome [Rank Designation]-[Operative Designation].

03:21: Security door: locked down.

03:22: ALERT Foreign malware detected, St@|\|dddd …

03:22: Warning: System Breached.

03:22: Percentage Of Files Compromised: 100%

03:23: Unauthorized Transmission Detected.

03:23: Unauthorized Data Purge Detected.

03:23: Error: Operating System Not Found.

03:24: Security networking connection lost, enabling archived permissions access…

03:28: Security lock overridden, welcome BETA-Crowle… Security lock re-enabled. Initiating neurotoxin fail safes.

03:32: Toxicity levels normal. Disengaging all security lock downs.

03:35: Self-destruct primed, detonation in 10 minutes.

03:35: Logoff detected, have a good day [Rank Designation]-[Operative Designation].

Agent Hugh chuckled at their quick defeat as two strike team members escorted him and Dr. Garrison out of the office. They had four elite strike teams guarding that facility. There was absolutely no way the Falchionists could break through their defense. Every single corner, every entrance, ranging from big gates to small trapdoors leading to tunnels throughout the facility were under intent watch. But all of the teams still ended up being decimated like ants after an ambush by unspotted Falchion personnel.

Hugh scanned the areas for possible entrances as they tiptoed down the hallway. What the hell could have gone wrong? Holes in the walls? No. Embedded spies within their team? No, he had not seen any Resurgents before. Hugh reached towards his belt and reluctantly took out his Beretta M9 pistol. He was known for being an astounding sharpshooter; he had received promotions as a strike team commander multiple times. But Hugh refused. He would not admit the fact to anyone, but he would grow sick and faint at the sight of blood. Hugh hated the blasting sounds that firearms emit. He muttered multiple times to himself that he would never be engaged in a gunfight. But as he analyzed the situation now, he realized he probably would.

Wow,” Dr. Garrison gasped, “Slow down! You haven’t told me exactly what happened.

The damn Resurgents,” a strike team member replied, “Came out of nowhere. We had no time to prepare.

What the hell do you mean by ‘out of nowhere’?” Dr. Garrison whispered loudly, flabbergasted. “I thought you said you had guards everywhere!

At every entrance!” the other strike team member replied. “They must’ve came from somewhere underground. They must have spies on our side!

The doctor, the agent, and the two strike team members dodged into a nearby storage closet as they heard footsteps coming from nearby. One of the team member slammed open the door at the back of the closet.

Do you realize that we are fleeing in circles?” Dr. Garrison said silently but firmly at the strike team members.

Of course we do!” the strike team member replied as he led them down the hallway, “Now we just need to find the…” The man stopped in his tracks near the restrooms. His expression grew into a surprise and he suddenly stormed into the women's restroom.

What’s the matter?” Agent Hugh asked. “Do you really need to go now?

No, you dolt!” he cried. “Get over here!” The other strike team member led the doctor and Agent Hugh into the restroom. They looked down at a toilet stall. The door was ripped off and near the toilet was a deep man-sized hole.

The sewers!” he cursed to himself, “They came from the fucking sewers!” Within the moment Agent Hugh heard footsteps marched down the hallway. He was about to warn the team before a loud voice outside the restroom interrupted him.

Attention, all personnel! You are surrounded. Drop your weapons and surrender to the Falchion!

0300 hours after initial attacks

The wasps were all over the falchionists at his left. Dr. Gucci ran through his bug museum, dropping jars of insects and Arachnids at every turn. He was confident in getting through alive. At any costs. The fear scratching at the back of his head was bothering him to the brink of insanity. no no, it isn't the screams, Gucci thought to himself, the bugs won't bite me.

It was a bugfest at this point, left and right his bugs were attacking his assailants. Haven't not really expected much he left the room, headed toward the one falchionist haven which was the hangar.

Research Base Steron - (LOYALIST GARRISON)


<Personnel identified as Dr. Caduceus runs along the corridor to Containment sector. Security measure: Seal Containment sector activated.>

<Caduceus:> Fuck!

<Dr. Caduceus elbows the blast door. No effect.>

<Omega Sector unlocked. Interference from unknown saboteur suspected. Omega Sector destroyed.>

<Dr. Caduceus continues to elbow the blast door. Fatigue noticeable.>

<Caduceus:> Come on, open, you fuck! I'm out of explosives!

<███████ ██████████████████ noticed. The creature growls.>

<Dr. Caduceus notices ███████ ██████████████████.>

<Caduceus:> Holy fuck! Mother of all fucks! Aaaaaaahhhh!

<Dr. Caduceus stops elbowing the door and sprints to corridor opposite of ███████ ██████████████████'s current position. The creature sees the doctor and follows in pursuit.>

<Dr. Caduceus and the creature are engaged in chase.>

<Caduceus:> Oh god of fucks, why!?

<Dr. Caduceus exits interior of the base, dives outwards into the polar ice caps.>

<███████ ██████████████████ moves back to Base. Falchion VTOL seen banking nearby.>

ALERT 4: Communications with Research Base Steron have stopped. Base's danger resonance alert sounded and subsequently destroyed by unknown entity. Research Base Steron deemed compromised and lost.

Terminal 26, Outpost Tau-Ceti-6

<For access to records, please enter your BETA or higher access code>

<Access code… accepted, welcome lieutenant Aleister, Strike Team-57 leader>

<Alert: Due to technical difficulties 62% of Insurgency sites have been compromised, and 9% of Insurgency data sites have been wiped/destroyed. We apologize for any inconveniences this may cause. >

<Accessing file: 'Clearance level; Halsey, D'>


This Jr. Research Assistant is a certified Delta (Operational Designation) personnel and is entitled to the clearance and authority of that rank

Cleared 13-274-DELTA-63, February 27, 199█ - Outpost Tau-Ceti-1 Administration Structure

<Are you sure you want to make the following changes to file: 'Clearance level; Halsey, D'? Remember that unauthorized changes are punishable by execution.>


This Doctor is a certified Beta (Administration and Command) personnel and is entitled to the clearance and authority of that rank

Cleared 13-274-BETA-63, February 27, 199█ - NAWC Administration Structure

<Changes accepted, cloud: synced>

<Logging off user>

<Error, memory malfunction, all cached data lost…>

<Error Error Error Error Error Error>

"Damn," Dr. Garrison spat. "We are really screwed now."

"Wait," Agent Hugh replied. He looked down the dark hole, its long shadowy arm grappled to the sewer ground. "Should we go down the rabbit hole?"

Don’t tell me you are considering going down there,” Dr. Garrison said furiously and shook his head. “Straight into the Falchion’s nests”.

"We can attempt to contact help from other bases," the strike team member suggested. He pulled out a small radio out of his belt and extended its antenna.

"I am gonna contact Base Three," he said. He turned the dial as the radio buzzed.

"Come out, now!" the Falchionists ordered from outside.

The radio's buzzing cleared a voice emerged. "The Falchionists have broken our outer defense. Please send reinforcements to Base Number Three."

"Goddamnit," the strike team member cursed. "Base Three is the closest base from here. There is no other facility close enough to send help on time."

"What are we going to do?" Dr. Garrison urged.

"Drop your weapons, put your hands on your head, and come out!" the strike teams outside yelled.

"There is one way. We can contact external help," the other strike team member spoke up.

"What do you mean by external help?" Agent Hugh asked.

"We can give the SCP Foundation this base's location," the strike team member said. "Although this won't gain much benefits towards the Insurgency, but once they are raiding the facility the SCP personnel will surely decimate all the Falchionists' main assault force."

"No," Dr. Garrison responded firmly, "Exposing this vital base's information to the SCP Foundation will cause unimaginable costs to the Insurgency."

"I'll give you ten seconds!" the voice boomed from outside.

"We must go into the tunnel or we are doomed for sure," Agent Hugh said. Dr. Garrison sighed and shook his head, but proceeded to climb down the rope ladder into the hole.

Hugh and the strike team members followed. They descended into a large dark tunnel filled with stench and dampness.

We gotta keep moving," Agent Hugh urged. The two strike team members led them into the pipe-filled maze. They twisted and turned when they heard the marching footsteps behind them. Gunshots were fired and yells were heard.

The strike team members, the agent, and the doctor stopped at a dead end. There was a rusty metal ladder leading to the top of the ceiling.

"Doctor, you go first. We will hold off the Falchionists as long as we could," Agent Hugh whispered.

"Oh cease your altruistic bullshit," Dr. Garrison replied. "Come up if you can."

Agent Hugh remained behind the wall as the sound of footsteps came closer and closer to them. Dr. Garrison hurriedly slid up the ladder and disappeared. Agent Hugh was about to move out to the ladder, but suddenly a gunshot was fired and a strike team member nearby collapsed.

Hugh,” the remaining strike team personnel urged, “Go up and protect the doctor, now!

Agent Hugh lowered his back as he race for the ladder. The strike team member threw a grenade at the incoming Falchion personnel.

He reached the rough ladder and proceeded to climb upwards. He then made a mistake of looking back at the fallen strike team member’s body.

His face was pale, highlighted with blue veins. Dark, fresh blood was oozing out of a gaping hole pierced in his skull.

Agent Hugh wavered. He had a shortness of breath.


His vision was fuzzy. His ears were numb from the gunshots.


Hugh,” the strike team member gasped, “Move!

Agent Hugh head was dizzy. He possessed an urge to vomit. His face and palms were sweating.

He used his fragile arms and lightly pushed himself upwards.

Then a gunshot was heard. A piercing pain emerged from his left shoulder. Agent Hugh faltered and fell from the ladder, onto the damp, concrete floor of the tunnel.

Surrender to the Falchion!” a voice shouted. His mind was blank.

Be quiet,” a cold voice uttered. An old man in a white lab coat emerged out of the darkness.

He had no hair or eyebrows. His eyes gleamed, one green and one blue, like that of a Persian cat. A dark, long scar etched beneath his blue eye.

Doctor, that damned Garrison has escaped the facility.

A predictable act of fear,” he answered, “Dr. Deny had preparations. He’ll make sure a grain of sand won’t even leave our sight.

What should we do to him? the Falchionist gestured towards Hugh.

Ah,” the old man chuckled, “The legendary Agent Hugh. SCP Foundation’s Site 5 Director Derek Montes, brought down with a bullet from Hugh through two skyscrapers.


Deny has plans for him. Take him,” the old man replied.

Fryy: Fuck fuck fuck shit! I was on a retrieve mission with my team, and i got the message. I'm on a heli with Ryuri-03 and i'm coming towards the facility to help evacuate!
Sardine: Uhm captain. I'm getting signals from south.
Fryy: Can you indentify it? Are they friendlies?
Sardine: I don't think so sir!
Adrian: Oh were so fucked!
Fryy: Ah fuck. I'm coming with Ryuri-03 on a heli to help evacuate! We have company! Can you copy? I hope they are in controll!
Roll: God damn it! Why is no one responding!
Sardine: Just keep trying sir maybe they'll respond! They are busy fighting off the Falchions!
Fryy: I'm coming with Ryuri-03 on a heli to help evacu-
Rocket Launcher Fired
Fryy: Oh shit! Th#y a&Ä fi%r

Verifiable records regarding the Procedure are incomplete.

Perhaps you'd like me to tell you the rest?

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