Anomalous Phenomena Acquisition Society (APAS): T-02

Overview: The APAS is a group dedicated to the collection of anomalies. It does not collect anomalies for research or containment, but rather as ornaments. They have captured a small amount of RPCs, and haved killed some Authority personnel in the process. The society is composed of high society people, including company owners, politicians, criminal kingpins, and even celebrities. Many of the members have already been identified, and have numerous agents tracking them. Some of them have even been interrogated (before being amnesticised), but have offered little to no valuable information. They often host gatherings, which consist of observing anomalies, mingling, and heavy amounts of drinking. These parties are held at varying locations, the most notable being their headquarters, named the "Catalog." The Catalog's whereabouts are unknown, but is suspected to be where several stolen RPCs are being kept. The members of APAS do not engage in combat, but rather hire mercenaries to do so. Their skills range from low to high, and are typically ex-military.

rating: 0+x

Item #: RPC-XXXX

Object Class: Alpha Beta

Containment Protocols: RPC-XXXX is to be contained in a standard humanoid cell. Engineers and researchers are to inspect and study RPC-XXXX daily. All information gathered is to be sent to Site-122.

All instances of RPC-XXXX are to be neutralized, and brought to Site-086 for dismantling. Everything left will be sent to Site-122 for study.

To contain RPC-XXXX, a deal with the Russian government has been made. In exchange for knowledge about and technology from RPC-XXXX, they have given us several research grants, and agreed to capture all instances of RPC-XXXX.

Description: RPC-XXXX is a humanoid automaton resembling a russian male in his 40s. RPC-XXXX claims to have been created by an unknown group, and was sent to Earth to research its life and resources.

RPC-XXXX's inner workings appear to blend standard machinery with an unidentifiable type of organic [DATA EXPUNGED]. There is also a QR Code on RPC-XXXX's back, that when scanned, translates to "Scout-772."

RPC-XXXX1 refers to a group of androids capable of mimicking humans. The mechanics of RPC-XXXX are highly advanced, and are beyond anything even the Authority currently possesses. The creators of RPC-XXXX, as far as we know, are from another dimension, and are either just studying us, or trying to get to our dimension.

Since Breach-XXXX-001, there have been 2 more recorded instances of RPC-XXXX. All of which have been recovered from Russia.

The following is a list of all technology made from dismantled instances of RPC-XXXX.

Instance of RPC-XXXX Technology Studied Technology Gained
RPC-XXXX-1 Hand Cannon2 "Charge-bolt Gun"
RPC-XXXX-2 Memory Banks Knowledge about creators of RPC-XXXX.3
RPC-XXXX-3 Propulsion Rockets (Feet) "Rocket Boots"
RPC-XXXX-3 Propulsion Rockets (Back) "Jetpack"


Item #: RPC-XXX

Object Class: Neutralized

Containment Protocols: All testing on RPC-XXX has been discontinued, and all samples of it have been destroyed. No further containment needed.

Description: RPC-XXX is an experimental serum developed from a group of "mutants." All of the effects of RPC-XXX are still unknown, but human trials have begun. Below are the three observed effects of RPC-XXX.

Dosage: Low

Symptoms: RPC-XXX-1 is relatively normal, except for a greenish hue of the skin.

Description: Instances of RPC-XXX-1 are typically indistinguishable from normal humans, and don't

Addendum: [Optional additional paragraphs]


The Philosopher Device


Item #: RPC-XXX

Object Class: Alpha

Containment Procedures: RPC-XXX is to be housed at Site-88 in a locked containment chamber of 10m x 15m x 5m. No personnel higher than level 3 are permitted to enter the cell under any circumstances. Researchers and guards assigned to RPC-XXX are to be rotated out every 2 weeks, and given psychiatric evaluations.

Instances of RPC-XXX-2 are to be taken off RPC-XXX, and given a vacation week to recover.

Description: RPC-XXX is a alchemy based machine produced sometime during 174█. RPC-XXX is composed of beakers, flasks, and primitive versions of modern chemistry equipment5 laid out in a circular fashion on various tables. Most of the technology RPC-XXX is composed of was not available in the 18th century.

In the middle of RPC-XXX is a slab of stone with engravings on it, this is the primary input. To the left of the stone is a crushing mechanism meant for hard materials, this is the secondary input. The output is located at the back of the slab.

The purpose of RPC-XXX is to create gold through a chemical process, which the exact science of is unknown. The secondary input is reserved for lead, which is crushed manually in the mechanism, then placed into a beaker filled with water. The primary input is 1 live human(now referred to as RPC-XXX-1), which is to be placed on the slab, and [DATA EXPUNGED]. The beaker with lead and water is to then be [DATA EXPUNGED]. The contents of the beaker are then funneled into the rest of RPC-XXX, until the gold is produced.

Additionally, prolonged exposure to RPC-XXX makes individuals experience a strong desire to be put into RPC-XXX, and are now referred to as RPC-XXX-2. RPC-XXX-2 instances become increasingly more obsessed with RPC-XXX the more they are in contact with it.

"These parties have been going on since the 50s apparently. When WWII ended all of these rich guys got bored, and found out about some weird government that collected weird stuff. Then they wanted to collect weird stuff too. Honestly, I've been coming here since I was a kid, and I don't really see the appeal. Sure, it's interesting, but it's kinda pointless to just lock this stuff up when it could be useful. But I'm not really somebody who people listen to."

"James, come and say hello to your aunt!"

"I hate this place, everybody's so… fake. There's supposed to be like, druglords upstairs or something, wish I could see up there, but I'm not allowed. My mom always drags me here, and makes me meet her rich friends. I'm supposed to 'get in with the right people,' but who knows what that means. Anyways, I gotta go, I'll come back and talk to you some more later."

I picked myself up, and waved goodbye. I walked up the steps, and the motion sensor lights shut off. I wonder what he's thinking about, being in that cage all day. I took a deep breath, and opened the door.

7:00 PM, 2nd Floor.

"Sorry, excuse me, could I just get through— sorry."

This place is awful. I want to go back to— wait, I don't even know the name of there. Well I guess it doesn't matter, I just miss the doctor, none of these people are as nice as him. One day I'm on a walk to the cafe, and the next I'm a fancy waiter.

"Hey, the hell is this thing? A walking pumpkin? When did we get a walking pumpkin?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, we got that thing when we raided one of those sites. It's pretty harmless, but it makes some poisonous seeds or something, so we gotta scoop em out every once in a while."

"I'm right here, y'know…"

"Oh yea, can I get a gin and tonic? And don't skimp out on the gin."

I sighed.

"Sure thing, pal."

I still gotta give this champagne to that guy with the scar, and this bag of cocaine to the chick with tattoos all over. I didn't know waitering would be so hard, up until a couple days ago I didn't even know what a waiter was.

7:30 PM, 1st Floor

"The next item on our list is this crystal ball, which can show you exact date and time of your death! Betting starts at 50,000."

This glass box is really cramped. And that shouting coming from behind the curtain isn't making me any less comfortable. When those guys experimented on me I didn't expect to end up here. Especially not in these clothes, why are they so damn itchy? I guess that shouldn't be my top concern anyway, I have no idea what these people want from me.

"150,000 going once… going twice… and sold! To the gentlemen in the back for 150,000!"

What is even going on out there—

"Moving down the list, our next item is a more human-like entity, but, with four arms, that's almost double the amount of work. Betting starts at 100,000, but do I hear 150,000?"

The curtain opened, and I was revealed to the audience. They looked at me starry eyed, like a kid at the circus.

"I'll take it for 150,000!"

"That's 150,000 anybody?"


Their stares are so… judging. It's like they're trying to guess if I'm worth the price.


"That's 235,000—"

"Put me down for 250,000!"

"270,000 anyone? 250,000 going once… going twice… sold! To the madame in the red dress!"

"Hold on, you people can't just— hey!"

My cage was picked up by a forklift, and carried off backstage.

"Hey, wait, you can't do this!"

"Well, onto our next item, a very recent import from Cuba…"

8:00 PM, The Garden

"James, come over here."

I like the garden, it's one of the only good things about coming here. It's got really beautiful flowers, and there's all these deep red lights, and candles. It's relaxing, but not relaxing enough to make me forget my mother.

"Yes, mother?"

"This is Nao Maly, one of the heads of the APAS."

I sighed. For some reason, she seems really adamant that I'll become a head of the APAS one day. I'm not really sure why.

"…Hello sir, nice to meet you, I'm James."

"I've heard quite a bit about you, young man."

He shook my hand, his hand was all clammy.

"I hear you've spent some time in the basement, tell me, what do you do down there?"

"Nothing really… I just look at the things down there."

"What about the big one? Have you seen it?"

"Yes sir, I've seen it."

"You know, that was the first one we ever caught. It was just after the war, things had settled down, and someone had caught a monster in a dutch town. Me and my associates flew down there to check it out, and that's how we were founded."

I'm not really sure what this guy's deal is, but he's like 100 years old. He's super creepy too, why are his hands so sweaty?

"Well James, I think you'll be a fine addition to the APAS, when you're older of course."

"Thank you, sir."

He walked off, to another group of people, he even walks creepy. My mom's off schmoozing again, so I think I'll sneak back to the basement.

8:30 PM, 2nd Floor

"Here you go, your champagne."

I set it on the table.

"Finally, I've been waiting for over an hour. You're just lucky I like you, Jack-O-Lantern."

He had a scar going over his eye, and his hair was long and greasy. There were two guards around the table, he must be somebody important.


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