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Los Angeles, CA

A young man walks down the street, towards Philippe's, quietly smiling as he listens to the howl and hubbub of the psionic voices of those around him. It is a talent that he has learned from childhood, and one that has served him well. He thinks that no one knows about his ability to read minds, which has served him well in his career as a trial lawyer, the rising star of the legal world.

He is wrong.

A gunshot rings out, and he falls, clutching the spreading scarlet stain on his chest. Screams echo through the Downtown rush hour crowd as two more shots splatter his brains on the asphalt.

From his sniper perch atop the Union Station bell tower, the operative whispers into his microphone: "Type White is terminated. KTE neutralized. Exfiltrating now."

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New York, New York

Times Square on New Year's Eve is a brilliant hubbub of activity, as the elderly d**k Clark presides over the passing of the old year and the entrance of the new, attended by the newcomer Ryan Seacrest. Down below, a crowd of thousands gazes up in rapturous excitement at the slowly falling crystal ball, unaware of the events half a world away that threaten to doom them all.

One man knows, however, and he pushes his way through the crowd towards a young girl with yellow eyes who gazes up at the crystal, smiling softly. The girl seems ordinary, but her body, underneath her wool overcoat, is covered in unblinking eyes that stare out in every direction.

They don't see the man in the black overcoat sidle up behind her, in the blind spot created by the crowd, and fire a dart, point blank, into the back of her neck.

He catches her sagging body and pushes his way back out through the crowd, claiming that his companion has had too much to drink. The ambulance he leads her to has no license plates, and the driver wears a name tag belonging to a man ten years dead.

-----
Flagstaff, Arizona

He is forty years old, balding and slightly overweight, and his t-shirt is stained with bacon grease. He is watching the television as the old year ends and the new begins, attended by a house full of dolls, walking, talking, and moving about, singing in high chirruping voices.

The team moves quickly, exiting the white van and proceeding to the back of the house, where they attach a small device to the gas main. With a quick hand gesture, they set the timer and return to their vehicle. By the time the bomb goes off, destroying the home and all of its strange inhabitants, they will be in the next town over, the van abandoned in the desert with its interior burned away with thermite charges.

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Location Unknown

He has no name. He is simply known as One.

He is the center of a network of operatives the world over, a shadowy conspiracy that has existed, it is rumored, since the beginning of human history. When Atlantis fell, they were there, triggering the device that caused the tsunami that collapsed that ancient civilization. When the Alexandria Library burned, they were there, setting the fires that destroyed the knowledge that Man should not know. Roswell. Tunguska. Lemuria. Always, they were there. Always, they brought back balance to that which had been knocked a-kilter.

They are the Global Occult Coalition. And they are here to protect humanity, whether it likes it or not.

The entity known as One has long pondered the existence of "Rival Agencies," groups like Marshall, Carter, and Dark, and the infamous Church of the Broken God, which also exist to seek out anomalous entities. Unlike these groups, however, the GOC has no interest in categorizing, studying, or containing said entities. The GOC exists only to maintain the status quo.

One has paid careful attention to the activities of the SCP Foundation for quite some time. It has dispatched its agents to infiltrate that organization and made disturbing discoveries. The presence of anomalous entities in high-up levels in that organization causes it some dismay, but given the Foundation's effectiveness in containing the anomalous, it has allowed it to proceed. The two organizations have come into conflict in the past, but that is normal. . .

This is not.

The collapse of Site 1 and the release of so many anomalous entities threatens to unbalance the world. Like a gardener, who dispassionately studies his charges and determines what to prune and what to protect, One makes his decision.

Around the world, thousands of GOC sleeper agents awaken to a terse, three-word command.

"Execute Procedure Pizzicato."

((Whoops! Sorry, making new thread))