Seeing a very confused Dan Heng, Welt Yang very much wanted to explain to his companion what they were, but hesitated...
He knew better than anyone how fucked up they were
Just as he was stuck on this conundrum, lè Playboy Billionaire solved it for him. "Hey, so what are these... SCPs?"
Shinji lifted his hands realising that since they're already here, he might as well explain to them. "SCPs are basically shit that can change reality without following the basic laws of reality...
Basically, in Retard 101, 1+1=3 or an apple, depending on your perception or what they deem to show you..."
"So, basically magic?"
Chuckling at the naivety of the young Vidyadhara, Shinji answered back, expression just like a certain red-coated jackets who likes little young girls dressed as magical girls:
"My dear youngling, magic is the least of our worries..."
At this, Dan Heng swore he felt chills going down his spine, as if an otherworldly force no lesser, or even greater, than an Aeon, was breathing down his spine. Just as he was about to ask Shinji what he meant, he saw him squinting, thought entangled in something. "Well my dear friend, seems to me out conversation must end here, otherwise we'd be earning the attention of some...unsavoury fellows, to say the least..."
At this, Dan Heng knew what he felt was not his hallucination. Heeding his warnings, he tactfully stepped to the side, heading towards the tangled-up researchers, separating them from the rabble they set themselves up in.
"Ah, seems that some of our 'old' friends have taken notice of us invoking them, ey?"
Breaking the silence, Dr. Killinger addressed what he felt as well. Despite being a staunch believer in science, even Tony realised the gravity of the matter. "So that cold heebie-jeebie was not my imagination after all..."
Realising that Tony was marked as well, Shinji quickly relayed to him on what to do once they got back. "Mr. Boytoy, though the chat group can isolate any markings made by Them, it'd be better for you to forget what you heard now, lest it be your downfall, but forget what I just said, considering your hubris, your less likely to listen to me. Anyways, if you feel anything...worms, let's say, head to 177A Bleecker Street in Greenwich Village, New York City. Pray that the one who meets you is a thin, gangly looking woman who looks like she's in chemotherapy, and not some fat Chinese who looks like he's gonna eat you..."
Though taken aback and wanting to retort, Tony knew better than to argue here, for hebhad just felt he that he had brushed awfully close to death. For the first time in his life, he decided to drop his pride, and listen carefully to the 'young' man's instructions.
"So, what do I say when I meet her?"
"Just say that she relies a favour to a dynamite smoking, vodka chugging arsehole who she wishes would go choke on rice whenever he eats sushi..."