The moment Luoshu heard the name "MacDonald," he felt like his head was about to explode.
If he could see IR1901's form, he would've teleported behind him and snapped his neck on the spot.
Now he finally understood why IR1901's voice had sounded familiar—
This was the bastard who'd dragged him into Site-19 in the first place!
Back then, Luoshu had refused to sign the D-class consent form.
But MacDonald had forced him.
Even worse—this Gamma-level Chaos Insurgency recovery agent had not only infiltrated Site-19 as a "friendly" Euclid-class anomaly but had also embedded himself in Human Resources, specializing in recruiting D-class personnel.
Horrifying.
Before Luoshu could press further, MacDonald eagerly explained:
"I joined HR specifically to find you! I waited so long—but it was worth it!"
Ugh, can you not sound like a bad romance novel?
Despite his anger, Luoshu found it hard to stay mad.
Fine. You waited all this time for me. And honestly, my life in Site-19 isn't that bad—better than rotting in San Quentin's death row.
I'll forgive you.
Useless Intel
Luoshu fired off more questions:
"Who else does the Chaos Insurgency have inside Site-19?"
"What's the 'truth' SCP-055 knows?"
"What's your actual mission here?"
MacDonald's answers were disappointingly vague.
"No idea. We're all on separate cells—single-point contact with superiors only."
Typical spy protocol. Fair enough.
"Honestly, I can't hear what 055 says either. I was hoping you'd tell me the truth!"
Oh great. Everyone wants a free ride.
"My job is to stay undercover, wait for you, occasionally cause containment breaches, and report high-value anomalies for extraction."
Yeah, no surprises there.
After all that, Luoshu had learned nothing new.
MacDonald was far less useful than he'd hoped.
To Expose or Not to Expose?
Now came the real dilemma:
Should he report IR1901?
From a Foundation employee's perspective, the answer was obvious—yes.
But exposing MacDonald meant exposing himself.
How would a lowly D-class, even a "containment specialist," uncover a deep-cover CI agent?
Oh, wait—you're the "truth-bringer" from Chaos prophecy?
Instant Keter-class designation.
Say hello to permanent containment.
After mentally simulating the Foundation's reaction, Luoshu decided:
He'd keep IR1901's secret.
Not out of fear. Not defection.
Strategy.
A known mole was better than an unknown replacement.
Plus, he could feed the CI false intel through MacDonald—maybe even set a trap.
And if a few containment breaches happen along the way… well, more entries for the Catalog.
Ahem. Not the main reason, of course.
Luoshu cleared his throat. "Next time you plan a breach, warn me first. So I can 'help.'"
His real goal? Minimize casualties.
MacDonald, under the influence of persuasion, agreed eagerly. "Of course! I'll coordinate with you! I know you can mimic anomalies—if you want a specific ability, just tell me. I'll arrange a breach!"
Well, well. Someone's eager to please.
Luoshu smirked. "Deal."
The Elusive Truth
After parting ways with IR1901, Luoshu paid a quick visit to SCP-055 before returning to his dorm.
The night had been productive but frustrating.
He'd hoped IR1901 would reveal the "truth"—but the agent knew nothing.
So what is the truth?
His persuasion ability confirmed MacDonald wasn't lying.
Either the guy was clueless—or he'd mistaken Luoshu for someone else.
Me? The "truth-bringer"?
I don't even know what's for breakfast tomorrow.
Yet… doubts lingered.
Why had SCP-231-7 given him the rainbow lollipop?
Why did SCP-055 cooperate so easily with his anti-memetic effect?
Why had SCP-126 helped him gain abilities?
Coincidence? Or something more?
Logically, Luoshu didn't believe it.
But emotionally?
He wanted it to be true.
Who doesn't want to be special?
Regardless, his hunger for answers had grown.
Every worldline in this anomalous universe hid secrets that shaped humanity's future.
Luoshu wasn't a saint—he wasn't fighting for all mankind.
But humanity's fate was his fate.
Ignore it, and he might die in some XK-class apocalypse.
That alone was reason enough to seek the truth.