Finally—
On the screen,
the hard-boiled detective lowered his newspaper.
> "Same as the others, sweetheart. You need my help."
The researcher's expression instantly darkened.
> "Don't call me 'sweetheart.' I'm a fing molecular medicine PhD—"*
Startled by her sudden reaction, Murphy slowly put the newspaper down.
> "Okay, okay, my bad, Doctor. I apologize. So…"
He slid his feet off the table, stood up, folded his arms, and looked at her.
> "How can I help?"
The researcher hesitated, glancing nervously around the room.
> "I… I don't know how I got here. I don't even know what 'here' is. I was—
processing data, I think—and then I heard typing, and suddenly…"
Her face shifted into shock.
> "I can't remember. I can't remember my name."
The livestream exploded.
The audience quickly understood—
This woman was the Foundation researcher who had been written into the sub-narrative during the original containment breach.
But the shocking part?
She wasn't just a name in a file.
She was inside the story.
A real human was now a character in a fictional narrative.
---
Suddenly, Murphy's gravel-rough internal narration echoed behind the scene.
> [Narrator: A beautiful woman with a PhD in molecular medicine—
and no memory of who she was or how she got here.
Her eyes told me she needed help.
Her name tag told me the rest.]
The camera zoomed in on the badge pinned to her coat.
Murphy stared at it.
> "You're Professor Michelle Lewis."
She looked down at the tag—
and the recognition hit her all at once.
Her eyes widened.
> "My… yes. That's my name. I work for the Foundation."
Murphy's narration returned, dripping with cynicism.
> [Narrator: The Foundation.
A bunch of lab geeks trying to figure out where the magician hides his rabbit.
I should've turned her down the moment she said the word.
If the Foundation is involved,
it's never anything but trouble.]
The livestream chat went wild.
> "Bro Murphy HATES the Foundation 💀"
"He calls them GEEKS I'm dying"
"He's roasting them but also helping???"
---
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
Nick Fury narrowed his eyes.
O5-10's earlier warning echoed in his mind:
> "Leo Murphy isn't necessarily an enemy."
Fury muttered:
> "So the guy doesn't actually care if the Foundation contains him or not…"
---
On screen, Murphy pulled open a drawer.
> [Narrator: But I'm not the kind of man who runs away from trouble.]
He pulled out:
a pair of sunglasses
a half-finished bottle of whiskey
He set them on the table with an unimpressed stare.
> [Narrator: I'm the kind of man who sees trouble coming
and buys her a drink.]
Murphy sighed, then nodded as if accepting fate.
> "Alright, Professor. I'll take the case."
> "You… you will?" Dr. Lewis blinked, confused.
"What exactly is going on?"
Murphy stood, the camera rising with him.
> [Narrator: My name is Leo Murphy.
I'm the guy you call when everything goes wrong—
literally.]
The screen cut to black.
---
Click.
Leon Lake closed the file.
His expression was unreadable.
They had left the lower narrative—
and returned to Foundation reality.
Leon stared at the title on the folder:
"The Strange Case of Leo Murphy… Codename 3043—Murder!"
His fingers tapped the table rhythmically.
Director August waited silently.
Minutes passed before Leon finally spoke.
> "What is SCP-3043?"
August's face tightened slightly.
Leon continued before he could answer—
> "A typewriter. Right?"
August stared at him… and exhaled slowly.
> "In that case…
I'm starting to believe we may actually succeed."
---
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Everyone looked bewildered.
Except Fury.
He replayed the researcher's earlier words in his mind:
> "I heard typing… and suddenly…"
Typing.
A typewriter.
His eyes snapped open.
> "So it wasn't Leo Murphy who pulled her into the narrative.
It was the typewriter."
If the sub-narrative wasn't Murphy's world…
But a narrative created by SCP-3043—
Then who was Murphy?
If Murphy came from another narrative altogether—
> How strong was he?
Fury suddenly didn't want to know.
---
The screen resumed.
Leon opened the second file.
The lower narrative unfurled again.
That gritty, noir, sketch-styled world returned.
> INT. MURPHY'S CAR – NIGHT
Murphy drives through a rain-soaked city.
Dr. Lewis sits beside him, staring out the window.
Golden-orange city lights slide across the windshield like liquid metal.
And the case of SCP-3043
was only getting darker.
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