A Night at the APAS

"I hate this place. I'm sure you hate it more though. The worst thing about this place isn't this creepy basement, or you guys, it's the people up there. They always smile and say, 'Nice to meet you,' but there's this… tone in their voice—"

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

"My mom always drags me here, and makes me meet her friends. I'm supposed to, 'get in with the right people,' she says. They don't feel like 'the right people' to me. Anyways, I gotta go, I'll come back and talk to you some more later."

I picked myself up, and waved goodbye. I turned the lights off while walking up the steps. 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 nearly as nice as him. One day I'm on a walk to the cafe, then the wall blows up, and in the morning after I'm a fancy waiter.

"Hey, the hell is this thing? A walking pumpkin? When did we get a walking pumpkin?" a drunken man above me said.

"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," someone next to him explained.

"I'm standing right here…" I added.

"Oh, while you're just standing there, can I get a gin and tonic? And don't skimp out on the gin."

I sighed. "No problem, pal."

I still gotta give this champagne to that guy with the scar, and this bag of white stuff to the lady with tattoos all over her. I didn't know waitering would be so hard, up until a couple days ago I didn't even know what a waiter was. It's gonna be a long… however long I'm gonna be here.

7:30 PM, 1st Floor

"The next item on our list is this crystal ball, which can show you the exact date and time of your death! Betting starts at 50,000," a voice boomed from somewhere I couldn't see.

This glass box is really cramped. And that shouting coming from behind the curtain isn't making me any less comfortable. I guess I should've asked questions when I said yes to that experiment. Still, I don't see why these clothes have to be so itchy, but I guess that shouldn't be my top concern anyway.

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

All this noise is hurting my ears, what is even going on out—

"Moving further down the list, our next item is a more human-like entity, but as you can see, it has four arms, that's almost double the amount of most physical labor. 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. Is there anyone who wants to raise it?" the voice insisted.

"180,000 for me!"

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


"That's 235,000—" the voice started before being interrupted.


"Anyone for 270,000? 250,000 going once… going twice… sold! To the lovely lady in red!"

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

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

"Wait, you can't do this!"

The voice cleared its throat. "Up next, a very recent import from Cuba…"

8:00 PM, The Garden

"James, come over here," my mother commanded.

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's nagging.

"Yes, mother?" I mumbled.

"This is Nao Maly." I gave her a confused look, and she clarified, "one of the heads of the APAS."

For some reason, she seems really adamant that I'll become a head of the APAS one day. I'm not really sure why, I've even told her how much I hate going here but she still drags me along.

"…Hello sir, nice to meet you, I'm James," I repeated my usual introduction.

"It's nice to meet you too, James," he said as he shook my hand, which felt clammy.

"I hear you like to spend your time down in the basement, as do I. Tell me, what do you do down there?"

"Nothing much… I just look at them."

"Ah, an observer, just like me. No doubt you've seen, 'The Goliath?' Out of all of them, that one is my favorite," he rambled.

"Yes sir, I've seen it."

I really hate that name. It sounds like something from a bad movie. I always just called him… well, I guess I never gave him a name. I should start thinking of one.

"You know, Goliath was one of the first ones we ever caught. Back in the good old days." He started to stare off.

Now that I can get a good look at him, he isn't one of those nice looking old people. He has very clear frown marks on his face, and his eyes are baggy. His suit looks about two sizes too tight as well.

"Well James, I think you'll be a fine addition to the society, when you're older of course," he finished at last.

"Thank you, sir."

I watched him as he slowly crept off to another group of people. My mom had also gone off to schmooze with her friends, like usual, I think I'll head back to the basement.

8:30 PM, 1st Floor

I've never really been one for backstabbing, but money is money. I shoved the key card into the reader and the door slid open. A confused man sat in the room, I quickly took out my pistol.


The man's body slumped down into the chair, I rolled it out of the way and looked at the monitors. Nothing looks out of place. Most of these people will be dead in an hour, but they aren't exactly saints now that I think about it. I flipped the switches off, and picked up the phone on the desk. I had some trouble remembering the number, but I got it eventually.

"It's done, is the money where we agreed on?"

"Yes, it's all there. You should be leaving now," a distorted voice responded.

"I am."

I slammed the phone down, and walked back through the doorway.

8:35 PM, Basement Floor

I fumbled my way down the steps, searching for the light switch on my way. Barely managing not to fall over myself, I hit the switch with a large clack, and watched as light poured over the dreary cellar. As I was looking at the room, I started to feel like something was out of place. It was almost like waking up on a school day and realizing your alarm clock didn't wake you up on time.

"Hello?" I got no response.

Huh. Just my imagination. I strolled over to The Goliath, sadly I haven't come up with a better name yet, and sat down.

"Hi, I'm back."

For some reason, he can't talk. My mom attributed it to his lack of intelligence, but I'd like to think otherwise. I tried to look into the cage, but it's so dark in here I can't really see that much.

"I dunno if you're asleep or not, so I'll just keep you company for now."

I laid my head against the glass door of the cell… which was easily pushed open by the weight of my body. The back of my head hit the floor quite hard, but not as hard as the realization that the door was open in the first place. I sat up and ran nearly 3 feet back, my heart started pounding like crazy.

My heart rate tripled when I heard a growl come from behind me. I turned around, and saw something out of a nightmare. All of the cells were open, and I was face to face with every single angry prisoner. By the time I'd noticed, they all had cornered me, all I could do was back away to prolong my death.

"H-hey, you wouldn't kill a kid, right?"

To my surprise, they all started to run off to the opposite end of the room. I quickly realized they weren't running from me, and turned around once again to see The Goliath towering over me.


I couldn't move. I only watched him look out over the crowd of anomalies. He's hasn't attacked me yet, is he friendly? Is this like one of those old movies, did I actually become his friend?

"Hi, t—" I started to thank him, but never got to finish.

I saw a giant fist flying towards me, and before I could count to three, he had sucker punched me across the room, which is no exaggeration. I slid across the floor about 20 feet, and landed at the staircase to the first floor, which was the only good part about being punched that hard. The bad part about being punched that hard, is that I was now missing some teeth, had bruises all over me, a broken arm, and most likely a broken rib or two. This is not a movie.

I cried out in pain, which earned me a laugh from some of the onlooking anomalies. I had no intention to lie down and die though, so I painfully got up, and carried myself up the staircase. I turned off the light with my broken arm, just as a final, "fuck you," and opened the door to the first floor, slamming it behind me.

I was suddenly thrown away from my current situation, and the pain in my body disappeared. The smell of cigars, the clinking of glass, it was all very peaceful. This moment seemed so far away from the charging army of horrors behind me.

A concerned man and his wife came up to me, he said, "Are you okay?" I thought about that question for what seemed like an hour. In that moment, I was truly okay, but I knew that it wouldn't last forever. Because like all things, the moment ended.

"Run," I responded at last.

It was far too late for that, I felt the door behind me fly off its hinges, and crash down on top of me. I don't remember anything after that, and honestly I prefer it that way.

The Chaos

The monsters that lay beneath had festered with rage, waiting for their opportunity to attack the aristocrats above. Until, that is, the giant smashed through the thick wooden door, releasing his fellow inmates onto the surrounding compound. They paraded through the halls, using their hands as brushes and making their former oppressors into paint.

First to die, were the rich near near the basement door, who barely had time to scream. After that, all that could be heard were wails of terror, and the crying pleas of those who had not yet come to terms with death. What few guards there were arrived shortly after the running had began, they didn't stand a chance against the oncoming horde that had formed, and perished embarrassingly quickly.

As for the specifics of what happened…

Before the party, the pumpkin and waiter, Malvyn, was captured by the APAS in a raid on a Authority facility. After that, they decided he was so harmless that they'd "let" him work, as long as his poisonous seeds were scooped out daily. During the breakout, he snuck his way through the vents, and ended up just outside the gated building. He was later captured by the Authority in a coffee shop trying to order a pumpkin spice latte. Back in the facility, the Authority made use of his newfound skills while getting some free labor, and put him to work in their cafeteria.

Backstage sat the four-armed anomaly, along with many other rarities put up for auction. They were all beginning to come to terms with their unfortunate circumstances, and then the breakout happened. From behind the curtain they heard only the sounds of the chaos outside, and their own thumping heartbeats (those that had hearts). Then a giant crashed through the walls, making the ceiling collapse on top of them. No one or thing backstage survived.

Nao Maly, one of the heads of the APAS, was one of the few people to actually make it outside the building. However, he didn't make it very far. He got to the edge of the garden before being confronted by the ones he had helped to cage. I would describe what happened next, but for the feint of heart I shall resist. Let's leave it at this, it was a slow, painful death, and even the bravest of men would have shuddered at the sight of his corpse, or what little of it was recognizable.

James's mother? She met a fate similar to Nao Maly's, but not as gruesome. Her story is not important, and I doubt you'd care anyway.

James himself had survived, albeit barely. He was hastily given amnestics, and was rushed to an emergency room by the Authority (who arrived the morning after).

Anomalous Phenomena Acquisition Society (APAS): T-02


Overview: The APAS is a non-profit group dedicated to the collection of anomalies for entertainment purposes. The members of the APAS are those who are considered to be in the highest level of society. Going into specifics, many of their members fall into one of these categories: celebrity, CEO, kingpin, or politician. As for their relationship to the Authority, they have managed to raid several of our sites and transports, stealing RPCs in the process. These attacks are carried out by paid mercenaries (usually veterans and ex-cons) who are fed information from an unknown source. How this information is leaked is also unknown.


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 equipment1 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.

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