Why Contracts in Blood Are Better

Agents Folletti and Dax were parked outside the well-lit law office of Mannfred Hamford Tellin. Agent Dax closed the lid to the beaten cooler in back and sat back down. He unwrapped the Italian sub. “Does this guy ever go home?”

“They all go home. Eventually.” Agent Folletti put his mocha latte into the cup holder and stood up just enough to be able to reach into the cooler. “Can't believe we got tipped off to this thing through the internet.”

Agent Dax smiled. “I can't believe you got a mocha latte. You're usually a chai guy.”

Agent Folletti looked through the cooler. “Thought I'd make a change. Something one of the lab guys suggested.”

“Interesting.” Agent Dax smiled. “Yeah, that starlet who was in that slavery pic thought her contract had changed so she posted pictures online of what she claimed was the original and a new copy. Her fans claimed photoshop and Mandela effect. Heh. Mandela effect.”

Agent Folletti unwrapped the ham and cheese he had pulled out. “Don't laugh, man. After that reality warper in Gilroy, that kid with the garlic problem, we know the Mandela effect is real.”

Agent Dax' eyes rolled. “Yeah, every time he fell asleep small cloves of garlic appeared in his shoes. If it weren't for his effect on the books near him we could have just ignored him.”

“That was the weirdest thing; entire chapters were rewritten in the books around him. Caused him some major problems with book reports.” Agent Folletti put half of the sandwich down. “It didn't help that the words went back after a while so that he couldn't prove he was reporting what he actually read. That reality anchor really helped him.” He bit his sandwich for emphasis.

“But a pen that erases the ink and allows you to rewrite those same marks?” The other agent waved his sub to emphasize his points. “That would so help contract negotiations: You could agree to anything and then make changes as you want later on.” He put his sub down. “I'd kill to use that pen on our contracts.” Agent Dax looked at the sub for a good entry point. “At least in theory. Think he's modifying the contract?” Deciding that all entry points were equal, he bit the sandwich.

“Definitely. I'm honestly surprised he's taking this long to make the changes. I thought we used a simple enough contract.”

Agent Dax put down his sub as he gulped down his bite. “He's most likely looking at all of the details, doing the math, crunching the numbers. If I had that pen, that's what I would do.”

“I may have to grab a sandwich.” He cradled his mocha latte. “But that makes sense.”

He picked up his sub. “You ready for this?” He took a bigger bite of the sandwich.

Agent Folletti glared at him. “We get in, exchange the pen, and get out.” He tapped the burgundy fountain pen in his pocket. “Then tomorrow hit him with a gaslighting amnestic so that he thinks that the pen was just lucky rather than an anomaly.” He looked forward. “Easy as pie.”

Agent Dax relaxed a little as he went nostalgic. “Hmmmm...pie.” He straightened up. “Your wife made an excellent pie.”

“She still does. Keeps me coming home every night.”

The other agent smiled but the smile quickly faded. “Hey, look at that!” Agent Folletti nodded to the office, where the lights were disappearing. Agent Dax grabbed his phone, punched in a few numbers, and watched Tellin punch in some numbers on a keypad through the a camera hidden by Agent Folletti earlier that day. In a few moments, a large man in a gorgeous suit locked up and walked over to his car. The car left the parking lot and headed for its garage.

Agent Dax put down his sub. “Guess we get to to work.”

The two agents left the car and walked to the office. Agent Dax worked the lock as Agent Folletti kept watch. They soon entered and quickly found the keypad and punched in the right numbers. They smiled to each other. In moments the pen had been found and replaced, and they left the office.

Agen Dax slowed to let Agent Folletti get ahead. He pulled out a blowpipe, loaded a dart, and then put it to his lips, stopping just long enough to blow into the pipe. Agent Folletti fell down. Agent Dax pulled out the dart, grabbed the pen, and walked away. “When I said I would kill for that pen, I wasn't kidding.”

Agent Folletti stood up and pulled out his gun. He fired at Agent Dax, who fell down. “The lab guys suggested switching to something with an anti-toxin in case of an accidental hit.” He holstered the pistol. “Can't believe you would shoot me for a few extra dollars.” He called it in and waited for the ambulance to show up. He went home to the best tasting pie he had ever tasted.

SCP 5017: The Ink Drinking Pen

Class: Safe

Description: The pen is burgundy-colored fountain pen with a nib of iron.

History: The pen has only been around for about a decade. Its origins are unknown, but it was last used by Mannfred Hamford Tellin, a well-known contract lawyer. Tellin used the anomalous nature of the pen to fill out contracts and then eliminate the points added in. As his clients made the mistake of allowing him to keep their copies, he could modify the contracts identically and then apply those changes. While his clients suspected the changes, they were usually small enough that they played them off as “tricks of memory”.

It wasn't until a starlet photographed a copy of the contract and later a changed contract, and then posted them online that The Institution was made aware of the pen.

Containment: The pen is part of a storage locker alongside other writing implements, tagged with its number.

Effect: The pen causes any ink stroke it contacts to effectively rehydrate the ink and then go into the pen. The ink can thus be used again. This allows the user to erase the original ink with no sign of it ever being there and then possibly write something else in its place with matching ink.