Chapter 160: A Father Made of Scars - Part 1
Léonard walked through the dimly lit hallway, each of his footsteps echoing against the sterile metal walls. The entire floor of Site-19 had been placed under a silent lockdown, no personnel, no cameras, no noise. Only three people were allowed to be here:
The Administrator.
And the two Resh-1 operators flanking him like shadows.
Neither of the operators spoke. They never did unless spoken to. Their helmets turned slightly with each intersection, scanning for threats that didn't exist. This place was one of the safest structures on Earth tonight, but they behaved as if demons could burst through the walls at any second.
A vacant checkpoint came into view, blast doors locked open only for him. No guards. No clerks. No buzzing monitors. Just cold metal and a faint hum from the ventilation system.
They passed through without slowing.
Ahead of them stood a reinforced security door marked with temporary containment sigils.
SCP-166's chamber.
And in front of it, clutching a tablet like a lifeline, was Director Tilda Moose.
She stood stiffly at attention the moment she saw them approach. Her posture was rigid, almost too formal. She looked like someone who had rehearsed a greeting ten times and still wasn't sure it was good enough.
"Administrator," she said with a small nod, neither too deep nor too shallow. "Welcome to Site-19. Here is the updated behavioral report you requested." She extended a sheet of paper with both hands.
Léonard took it.
He didn't thank her. He didn't smile. He just read it, his pale eyes scanning line after line in absolute silence.
A faint crease formed between his brows.
"…This isn't her documented mental state," he said quietly.
Moose exhaled, a nervous, controlled breath. "Yes. Her behavior has changed drastically. She refuses to cooperate. She calls us murderers, kidnappers… and worse." She paused. "Her HCML supervisor confirmed this is extremely uncharacteristic compared to her past file. We suspect someone fed her information about the Foundation before her recontainment."
She hesitated before adding:
"But since the entirety of the recontainment operation is classified above my clearance… we have no idea who, or what, influenced her."
Her eyes flicked briefly to the Administrator's face, gauging his reaction.
Léonard remained unreadable, but for a fraction of a second, something passed through his expression.
A thought.
A suspicion.
A name.
He said nothing.
He folded the paper once, handed it back to Moose without a word.
Then he stepped toward the containment door, sliding his card through the reader. The lock disengaged with a heavy click.
He turned his head slightly toward the two Resh-1 operators.
"Make sure," he said softly, "that no one observes or interrupts us. No matter what."
Both operators straightened instantly.
"Yes, Administrator," they answered in perfect unison, taking position on either side of the door like statues carved from steel.
Léonard pushed the door open.
A cold rush of sterilized air escaped from inside the chamber.
He walked in without looking back.
The door slid shut behind him with a deep metallic thud, sealing the Administrator alone inside the temporary containment cell of SCP-166.
Léonard stepped through the reinforced door, entering a short corridor that led directly into the observation chamber.
The glass panel stretched from wall to wall, giving him a full view of the containment cell, an indoor garden blooming under soft artificial sunlight.
Flowers covered nearly every inch of the floor.
White lilies.
Wild violets.
Small blossoms he didn't recognize, all growing from soil that hadn't been there yesterday.
In the center of the room was a wooden bed, carved in an almost monastic style.
A few shelves.
A wooden crucifix nailed carefully above the headboard.
And on the bed, curled tightly in a fetal position, was SCP-166.
She faced the wall, golden hair spilling across the pillow like sunlight on snow.
Léonard walked into the decontamination airlock.
Two protective hazmat suits hung inside, marked with LEVEL 4 BIOHAZARD tags.
He didn't even glance at them.
He opened the inner door and stepped directly into the containment room.
A sharp, soft thump echoed as the door sealed behind him.
SCP-166 flinched at the noise.
She turned her head, just enough to see him.
And froze.
To her eyes, he wasn't a teenage boy in formal attire.
He was a silhouette devouring the light, a human-shaped void surrounded by the faintest distortion of pressure.
Two white eyes glowed faintly in the darkness around him.
She trembled violently, then instantly rolled back toward the wall, pretending to sleep again, rigid as a corpse.
Léonard watched her for a long second.
Then he let out a quiet, amused breath.
A faint laugh.
He walked to a wooden chair near a small table and pulled it out calmly, sitting down without ceremony. The flowers nearest to his feet withered slightly but stayed rooted.
Behind him, SCP-166 peeked once, hesitantly, fearfully, then snapped her head back toward the wall again like a child caught stealing cookies.
Léonard arched a brow.
He could practically feel her trembling.
After a moment, he spoke, voice calm, almost casual:
"Are you done pretending to sleep?"
SCP-166 stiffened, the tension in her shoulders almost painful to watch.
Slowly, timidly, she lifted herself from the bed, sitting upright with a shy, frightened posture.
Léonard gestured to the chair across from him.
"Come sit," he said softly. "Let's have a conversation."
SCP-166 swallowed, her small antler-like horns twitching.
She stood on uncertain legs, stepping lightly between the flowers that bloomed with every movement.
Cautious.
Alert.
Ready to flee at the slightest danger.
But she obeyed.
She approached the table and sat down across from the Administrator, hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes never leaving his.
And the room fell into silent tension.
After a moment of silence, she finally asked, voice small but sharp:
"Who… are you?"
Léonard didn't blink.
"You may call me Administrator," he answered calmly. "I am your father's current superior."
The moment the word father left his lips, her expression darkened, like a cloud blotting out the sun. Her shoulders tightened, her eyes narrowed.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, bitterness creeping into her tone.
Léonard leaned back slightly.
"I want to know who told you about your past."
She clenched her jaw.
"The people your Foundation killed when they dragged me back here."
His expression didn't change, the white glow of his eyes unblinking.
"Sin Nombre?" he asked.
166 nodded, a mix of fear and lingering attachment flashing across her face.
"Yes… a woman. A strange woman. She scared me at first, but… she was kind to me. She led the group."
La Loba.
Exactly who he expected.
Léonard continued, voice steady:
"What exactly did she tell you?"
166 hesitated, her gaze rising as if she wanted to challenge him, glare at him, defy the dark figure sitting across the table.
But the moment her eyes met his, those cold, emotionless white eyes, her composure cracked.
She looked down quickly.
And spoke.
"She said my mother was a goddess," SCP-166 whispered. "The goddess Gaia, mother of nature. And that she was… married to my…" she swallowed hard, "…my father."
Her voice trembled, picking up strength only through anger.
"She said he worked for a secret organization that hunted anything that wasn't a perfectly normal human. She told me they were terrified of my mother's power, so they waited until she was weak… right after she gave birth to me."
Her gaze hardened.
Her fingers dug into the wood until her knuckles turned white.
"And she said that organization attacked her. That my father led the assault."
Her breath hitched.
"That he killed my mother."
Léonard stayed silent.
He didn't interrupt.
He let her continue.
"He took me," she said. "To a chapel. Left me with nuns to raise me like a human child."
Her voice broke into a whisper. "And a few months ago, that woman, La Loba, saved me from armed men who tried to kidnap me from the chapel."
She inhaled sharply.
"She took me to Mexico. Gave me food, clothes, protection. A home."
She bit her lip. "She told me… everything. She said my father is a liar. A misogynist. A pervert. A psychopath. A murderer."
Léonard blinked once.
Those words, coming from her, were jarring.
Nothing like the gentle, confused, sheltered teenager described in her file on the Wiki.
This was anger.
Resentment.
Indoctrination.
He let out a quiet sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Well…" he said, unable to hide how awkward he suddenly felt,
"…I won't lie to you. Most of what you just said is true."
166's entire face changed.
Her eyes went cold.
Her fists closed so tightly the wood under her palms cracked faintly.
SCP-166's face twisted, confusion, betrayal, fury all tangled into something fragile and dangerous.
Her voice came out low, shaking:
"So she was right."
Leonard didn't answer immediately.
He let the silence settle.
dense, heavy, suffocating.
until even the flowers around them seemed to wilt under the tension.
Finally, he spoke.
"She was right about the events."
He leaned forward slightly, his presence pressing into the room like a weight.
"Not about the meaning of them."
166's breath hitched.
He continued before she could interrupt.
"La Loba and her people told you the truth that benefited them…
and lies that would make you hate."
Her fingers tightened.
Leonard's tone stayed perfectly calm, perfectly sharp.
"They gave you fragments."
His eyes narrowed slightly, two cold white lanterns cutting through her anger.
"Fragments are dangerous.
Fragments can turn anyone into a monster."
Meri looked away, jaw clenched so hard it trembled.
"You're saying my mother wasn't a goddess?"
Leonard didn't answer that.
He didn't need to.
Instead, he said slowly:
"I am saying that nothing about your past is simple."
Her throat tightened.
He continued, voice quiet but absolute:
"You deserve the entire truth.
Not the myth.
Not the propaganda.
Not the weapon someone shaped you into."
Her eyes snapped back to him, fury rising.
"Weapon?! I'm not-"
"Not to us," Leonard cut in.
His voice didn't rise.
It didn't need to.
The calmness hurt more than shouting.
"But Sin Nombre used you.
The Chaos Insurgency would have used you.
Your mother…"
He paused.
Only for a heartbeat.
But Meri felt it-
a weight in his silence,
a shadow of something too complex and too painful to name.
Meri's voice cracked, desperate now:
"Then tell me!
Tell me everything!
Tell me what really happened!"
Leonard inhaled slowly.
His eyes softened, barely.
"Alright."
He stood from the chair.
Not abruptly.
Not threateningly.
Just enough to shift the air between them.
He walked around the table and knelt in front of her, lowering himself to her eye level.
The Administrator of the Foundation, kneeling before a confused, trembling girl.
Not out of submission.
Out of honesty.
He spoke gently:
"Your past is not a fairy tale.
And it is not a tragedy written in black and white."
Meri's eyes shimmered with fresh tears.
Leonard reached out, not to touch her, but to rest a hand lightly on the edge of the table between them, grounding the moment.
"Your mother was not who you think she was."
Meri trembled.
"And your father…"
Her breath caught.
her entire body went still.
For a moment, Leonard simply looked at her.
Studying her.
Seeing past the antlers, past the anomaly designation, past the trauma.
Seeing the child in front of him.
Then he spoke, each word slow and deliberate:
"He didn't kill your mother because she was weak."
"He killed her because she would have killed you."
The sentence hit her like a physical blow.
Her lips parted.
but no sound came out.
Leonard continued.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just truthfully.
"And he suffered for it.
More than you can imagine."
Meri's tears spilled freely now, rolling down her cheeks.
Leonard stood, stepping back.
"You deserve to understand what actually happened.
All of it."
The light in the room dimmed just a little as his shadow straightened.
He looked down at her, voice softening to something almost, almost, human.
"Let me tell you your real story, Meri."
And he did.
Hours passed behind the sealed door.
No voices escaped the room.
No words were heard outside.
Only Meri's reactions were visible:
Her eyes widening in horror.
Her hands flying over her mouth.
Her body curling inward as if protecting herself from memories that weren't hers but still hurt like open wounds.
At one point, she whispered:
"No…
No…
That's… that's impossible…"
Later, she screamed.
a broken, heart-shattering sound.
and pounded weakly at the floor.
At another point she whispered through sobs:
"Why… why would she do that…
to him…
to them…"
Leonard's voice stayed calm throughout, steady as the ticking of a clock, unraveling decades of lies and half-truths.
Sometime near dawn, Meri collapsed to her knees, shaking violently, her antlers dimming to a faint, dying glow.
Her voice was barely audible:
"…Dad…
He… he didn't abandon me…?"
Leonard answered gently:
"No."
Her sobbing grew louder, raw, messy, real.
He stood.
He walked to the door.
And as he reached for it, Meri's voice followed him, broken and lost:
"I… I didn't know…
I didn't know any of it…"
Leonard paused for just a heartbeat.
Then he stepped through the door and closed it behind him, leaving SCP-166 alone in the blooming garden she had filled with flowers, now drowning in her own tears.