Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Anomalies
“C’mon, Loonie toonie, let’s go park our fat fucking car in our fat fucking space!” Those were the last words of the short suited man with horns before he jumped into a glowing portal on the beach sand. A young teenage girl with grey hair followed shortly after, seconds later the security footage cut off.
Dr. Collins had his elbows resting on the table, forming a philosopher's cradle with his fingers, carefully analyzing every element of the security footage. His eyes had practically lit up when he saw the physic of the creatures and their strange fundamentals. Finally leaning back in the steel chair, he locked eyes with Dr. Garcia sitting at the other end of the table within the interrogation room.
“Please describe to me what you saw, Dr. Collins.” She requested, fiddling with paperwork attached to her clipboard.
“Well-” Collins was at a loss for words, along with being slightly nervous, the foundation didn’t like mythical speculation, let alone religious. “If I am to be frank, they look like demons, who indiscriminately killed concert goers.”
“Hmm…” She hummed, scribbling something down on her paper before continuing. “That seems to be the general consensus amongst the few that have seen the footage. The entities you saw have been designated; SCP-666-1.”
“666 huh, what a coincidence.” Collins commented, much to the chagrin of the other doctor.
“No it’s not. The entities were initially labeled as SCP-1456 though has been re-classified for the sake of being cute.” Spite traveled through her tone.
“Well, what else is known about these entities?” Rising from her seat, Dr. Garcia moved across the room, taking a handful of papers and tossing them in front of Collins.
“They have been popping up randomly, with agent reports everywhere from Moscow, to Beijing, to DC. Most of the time it was just the 3 horned ones, the girl is new, they usually kill only a couple targets at a time. Though this was their most audacious attack yet, close to 30 people were killed along with SCP-2391 being summoned.”
“What about the girl and the people they were talking to? What were they, a band? They appeared human.” Collins asked.
“That is what is concerning the O-5’s the most.” She tossed a handful of police reports on the table. “The band, along with its main singer, have been identified as Verosica Mayday. Local police apprehended them, though through certain ‘methods’ they managed to ‘convince’ the police to release them before our agents arrived.” Dr. Garcia seemed almost hesitant to continue. “Miss Mayday and her band members have since disappeared. Them and the girl have been designated SCP-666-2, their cooperation with the dem-” Garcia cut herself off and corrected herself, “the entities has not been affiliated with any known cult groups. The fact that the girl went with them may be a sign that they are disguised agents.” She closed her eyes, taking a few breaths. “Dear lord, please have mercy on us.” She murmured quietly under her breath, before opening her eyes and continuing. “SCP-666 has been designated Keter class and as a potential apollyon class SCP. There is grave potential that this could lead to a full scale demoni- Fuck!” She yelled, covering her eyes with one hand, taking hesitant breaths, attempting to recompose herself.
“Dr. Garcia, if you need to, we can finish this ano-”
“No! I’m fine.” She stated, removing her hand and locking eye contact with Collins. “Their access to our world is unacceptable and could lead to a full scale invasion, especially considering this sudden increase in the scale.” She attempted to remain as professional as possible, though her fists were beginning to tremble with the sheer force she clutched them with.
“Of course doctor.” Collins agreed, attempting to still hide his inner giddiness at what he saw before him. Picture evidence of some sort of religious alternate universe, an underworld perhaps, or it could be like SCP-2440 where it was just mis-identification. “Though what is my role in all of this?” Collins finally asked, having carefully looked over all the documents before him.
“I requested for you specifically. I know that you have the fascination necessary to see this through. But don’t forget what needs to be done, we need to remove their capacity to come into our world.” She explained coldly, before moving toward the door.
“Can I request for Dr. Blaese’s assistance for this assignment? I understand he has a lot of experience with the more mythological SCP’s.” Collins requested, quickly turning in his seat to confront the doctor before she could leave.
“Absolutely not.” Garcia stated, not even bothering to look at collins. “The ethics committee has specifically requested that only christian or otherwise atheistic staff partake in this assignment. So as to prevent a crisis of consciousness and or belief.” She stated, before quickly unlocking the door and exiting.
Collins turned back to the table, looking over all the files. This was going to be a good one he thought, gathering up the files before also departing.
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fifteen researchers. A foundation with nearly infinite resources that is world recognized, all they could spare to prevent a demonic invasion is fifteen researchers. Collins sat in a small room, sitting before a desk with his head resting on his arm, lazily scrolling through his plethora of emails. Each and every single one being sent to Dr. Garcia, each one asking for more resources and manpower. It had been nearly 3 months since Collins had been given this assignment and all he had to show for it was a handful more sightings, photographs, and videotapes.
“Sir?” Collins turned in his chair, gazing up at a young woman wearing a white lab coat, holding a manilla envelope.
“What do you have for me, Phyllis?” Collins asked, with the bag under his eyes becoming all the more prominent day by day.
“Another agent reported seeing one of the entities in the field and managed to take photographs, sir.” She stated formally, sliding the folder onto his desk.
He stared down at it with half closed eyes. Another folder, more pictures, more sightings, more information, and not a step closer to actually being able to do anything about it. “Follow me.” Collins commanded, suddenly rising from his seat and marching into a neighboring room.
Phyllis followed him as he led her into the adjacent room, made of the same cold concrete walls though being slightly bigger. A handful of other researchers were rushing around, filling out files, and working on computers. White clad security personnel sat at the entrance, holding submachine guns, searching every man that came in and out of the room.
“Over here, Phyllis!” Collins beckoned, ushering her over to a gigantic cork board. A map of the world was spread overtop of it, with every single reported instance, photograph, or supposed sighting pinned and marked to its location in the world. Collins stood beside her as they both gazed at the map that nearly covered the entire wall. “My eyes are old, Phyllis.”
“You’re only 32 sir…” Phyllis remarked.
“Just bear with me.” Collins mentioned, rather sourly, before continuing. “Now, I need a new perspective. Someone who hasn’t been around the block as much as I have. There is no pattern, method, or motive to their attacks. They kill whoever they want, whenever they want.” Collins pointed toward several specific locations on the map. “These were the locations of the most recent attacks, Ottawa, Vichy, Columbus, Jacksonville, Havana, Fresno, and Atlanta. Phyllis, tell me, where do they strike next?” He stated, giving her the stage.
She stepped forward, analyzing each instance and reporting more closely. Looking around and gazing at each of the locations, taking a full minute to think before answering. “Well, sir, they show a clear affinity for North America, particularly the United States, with little to no presence in the east or south of the world. Though, sir, I think what I gave you in that folder may lead you further than this will.” She stated, having turned at the waist and pointed at the manilla folder Collins had clutched at his side.
“Is this report so special?” He asked, taking the folder in front of him with both hands, impatiently he tore it open, pulling out a written report and a handful of photos. The photo depicted the same teenage girl with grey hair and red eyes walking into what appeared to be a hot topic clothing store. “What was the reported target for this one?” Collins asked, shuffling through the photos.
“That’s the thing sir, there wasn’t one.”
“What?!” Collins stared Phyllis dead in the eyes, clearly baffled. “That can’t be, every other sighting of them has seen someone killed. Who reported this?”
“A member of MTF Pi-1 spotted her in Reno, he reported that she was alone and spent the entire time shopping.” Phyllis explained.
“The ‘City-Slickers’? I thought they only operated within the east coast metropolitan area.”
“That’s where our luck came in, he was the only operative in the entire city.”
“Taylor!” Collins called out into the room.
“Yes Sir?!” A young man sitting behind a computer responded hurriedly.
“Comb through the reports again, find if there was ever an instance of SCP-666-1 or -2 where only 1 member of the group appeared.” Collins ordered, before returning his attention to Phyllis.
“There is more, sir, the agent also reported that she met up with another girl. Human, wearing a black and gold beanie, dressed in the same style.”
“Hmm, Now is she human or another instance of SCP-666-2?” Collins murmured under his breath, it was something to take into consideration. “Was this recurring?”
“I don’t know sir, the agent said she had no trouble finding it.” Phyliss explained. Some of the energy returned to Collins' tired eyes, lighting up brightly.
“Phyllis, good work, get me the name of that agent, I’ve got some calls to make.” Collins explained giddily as he quickly sped toward his office. “We’re finally making progress!” He cheered, raising his arms in the air, as he stepped through the door to his office.
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He held the cold grey phone up to his ear, the nasally voice of Dr. Garcia talking to him. As they had for nearly 2 hours at this point.
“What I need?” Collins asked sarcastically, with fury in his voice. “What I need is manpower and resources, like I have been asking for months.”
“That’s a negative, reports from O-5 indicated that they’re disappointed with your lack of progress and can’t spare the resources.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it! I just got a massive fucking lead, all I need is the resources to persue it.”
“I can’t give you anything on that scale.”
“Fine then, give me direct access to Agent Rustam Davis of Pi-1 stationed in Reno. I also need a direct feed of the security cameras from Hot Topic in MeadWood Mall circle.”
“I Can give you the cameras, I can’t give you the agent. You have to understand Dr. Collins, Agent Davis has other orders to comply with and can’t report to you directly as that would disrupt the chain of command.”
“Fine, can you then order him to maintain surveillance over the store and to watch out for a girl wearing a gold/black beanie and a girl with grey hair, both teens, both goths.”
“I’ll see.”
“Thank you.” Collins impatiently shoved the old phone back onto its base. Placing his hands on his desk and leaning on them, frustratedly considering his options.
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Though it took time, almost a month to be exact, eventually Dr. Garcia did follow up on her promise. Big, blocky and old, a handful of new TV’s were installed in his department room, with a secure wireless link connecting straight to the CCTV security cameras within the Hot Topic store in Nevada. Though initial observations had been disappointing, an entire week and neither of the teenagers had shown up.
Collins was sitting before his desk, looking through written reports from Agent Rustam Davis. Only 1 other sighting since the last. ‘Report SCP-666-2-73: Grey haired girl entered the store, perfectly confident, presumably done this many times. She browses around for a while, approximately 10 minutes, before the girl with the beanie also enters. They take each in the other's arms and make small talk. Their relationship is close and are not afraid to show their affection for one another in public. After close to an hour both departed and headed down an alley, after which they were not seen again.’
Looking up from the report, he realized that these supposed ‘demons’ may be far more complicated than first realized. ‘What would the ethics committee think of this?’ he wondered, though his thoughts were cut off by sudden rushed footsteps entering his office.
“Dr. Collins!” Phyllis called, peeking around the office door. “You’re gonna wanna see this!” She stated energetically, smiling widely as she called him.
“Geeze, what is it Phyllis?” Collins asked, turning in his seat.
“The cameras sir.” She states. “We got them on the cameras.”
“Holy shit!” Collins blurted out, practically jumping from his seat, snatching his lab coat and hastily putting it on as he followed Phyllis into the adjacent room.
Together they quickly rushed over to the 5 TV’s stacked atop one another, all playing security footage from different angles. Most of the researchers had gathered around in a small crowd surrounding the TVs, forcing Collins and Phyllis to push their way to the front. Yet their work paid off, as they could clearly see the grey haired teen in the store with the beanie teen quickly approaching her.
“It’s about time you showed up.” The grey haired teen with red eyes stated, warmly embracing the other teen, wearing a black and gold beanie, pink shirt, and black jumper.
“Sorry my dad’s stepping up his game, when it comes to keeping me contained.” The other girl explained.
“Ah whatever, at least we’ve got this place to come to. Gotta admit, humans have some good stuff up here.” The couple proceeded to meander throughout the store, picking up various articles of clothing as they went.
Gradually the crowd of researchers began peiter out, finding nothing to be of interest, afterall it appeared to just be 2 teens discussing life as they went shopping. After only a few minutes just Collins, Phyllis, and a couple others remained. ‘Weren’t they supposed to be demons? Why are they so… normal?’ was the question Collins continually returned to in his mind. He had to remind himself that these were nothing more than beasts that had murdered potentially hundreds of people.
“You alright Octavia?” The grey girl with red eyes asked after noticing the dower expression on the other girl's face.
“Yea, it’s fine, I’m fine. It’s just, I wish we didn’t have to meet like this, that we could be more open about it all.”
“Hey don’t think about it, We’ll know once our dads are ready.”
“Yea let’s hope. Thanks Loona. So, same time next week?”
“Oh definitely.” With that the two proceeded to exit the store, leaving the view of the cameras.
Collins continued coldly staring at the TV’s, even after the girls were already long gone. Keeping his arms crossed, with his hand cupped over his mouth, his eyes displayed none of the excitement from earlier. They showed little to no emotion at all.
“Phyllis.” He suddenly called, causing her to jump in place somewhat from surprise. “Make a call for me will you? Call Dr. Garcia, have her order Agent Davis to find out everything he can about them from the store clerks and staff, then make a copy of this.”
“Of course Doctor.”
“Thank you.” Collins mentioned, leaving Phyllis to tend to her duties, as he continued to stare at the cold blue glow of the TV monitors.
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Yet again he clutched the same cold grey phone, holding it up to his ear, as he yapped back and forth with the same nasally voice of Dr. Garcia.
“What do you mean that Davis hasn’t filed a report yet? I swear to god, we had a week, now we have 4 days to prepare to capture the demons and I don’t even have any form of intelligence about them.” Collins was practically fuming.
“I can’t tell you anything more than that. I gave Davis the order and he has yet to file his report.” Garcia argued, leaving Collins in contemptuous silence.
“Fine.” He relented, violently shaking the phone. “What about MTF units, what can you secure me for their capture?” Collins asked, changing topics.
“I don’t know, I’ll have to look into it. Though whatever I am able to get will likely only be available and ready a day, at most, beforehand. Are you sure you’ll be ready for that?”
“Oh don’t worry, I will be ready, I’ve already started planning.” Collins mentioned, hanging up the phone as he placed it back on the base. Without skipping a beat he immediately turned and waltzed out of his office.
Entering back into the main room, which bustled with activity, various researchers going through materials, others making calls, and other yet carefully planning procedures for the day.
“Phyllis, come with me, we have to plan how the MTF will run through this one.” Collins ordered as she quickly tailed behind him. Following closely in his footsteps as he moved toward the large planning board, though a new map had been pinned overtop of the world map. A map of Reno.
“Right, Davis’s first report mentioned that the demons entered an alley before disappearing, meaning that they would have had to cross the parking lot surrounding the mall before vanishing in the greater MeadWood area.” Collins clarified, pointing around at different points of interest on the map.
“Yes sir, his report and the CCTV footage also confirmed that it was late in the evening, meaning there are likely to be few witnesses.” Phyllis added.
“Indeed, and if I’m seeing correctly, there are 4 entrances to the mall?” Collins questioned, analyzing the mall.
“5, sir, the food court can also be used as an exit.” She corrected.
“Apparently it can…” Collins murmured, again crossing his arms and cupping his mouth with his hand. “Tell me Phyllis, with limited resources how would you tackle an operation of this scale?”
“I would say…” Phyllis began, moving closer to the map. “At worst we would be granted a single MTF squad, which would be 10 men, meaning we could station 2 at each entrance.”
“Yes, but we don’t know what these entities are capable of.” Collins added, he motioned to the circular road surrounding the mall and it’s parking lot. “What if we stationed along the road in vehicles, then we would have speed to our advantage, not to mention that the other segments will be able to reinforce whoever made contact first.”
“But we can’t guarantee that the MTF Unit we’re provided will have access to vehicles.” Phyllis added, which made their plan all the more complex.
“What’s the nearest MTF unit to Reno?” Collins asked, looking over to her.
“That would be Area-14 sir, Nu-7 is stationed there.”
“Hammer Down? They’re the mechanized task force, correct?” Collins asked, to which Phyllis merely gave a brisk nod. “I’ll call Dr. Garcia, ask her if we can specifically request Nu-7’s involvement.”
“Then we could also requisition containment trucks.” Phyllis added, though her expression suddenly became unsure. “Though, sir, I’m a bit concerned at the attention a 5 vehicle military convoy would attract.”
“Ok, so what would you suggest?” Collins asked openly.
“We could cut it down to 3 vehicles, 1 SCP containment vehicle and a pair of humvee’s, which should be enough to transport all 10 members. The first humvee could drop off 2 men at the first entrance and drive counterclockwise to the second and park there. The containment vehicles can park at the third. Lastly the second humvee can drop off 2 men at the fourth entrance and park at the fifth. Whichever of the units encounter the entities can apprehend them while the others drive around counterclockwise to the mall, picking up those on foot as they go. Within minutes the first pair of men could be reinforced with vehicles and the rest of their squad.” Phyllis explained, in an overly long winded fashion, though Collins listened very carefully.
“Good, good, that works. Not to mention it would be far easier to cover up as a prisoner or bank transfer with these few vehicles.” Collins added. “Nice work Phyllis, keep this up and there's a promotion in your future.”
“Sir, you are not of suitable status to give promotions.”
“Yea, but I can give recommendations as to who should get them.” Continuing to iron out the last few details of their plan, and continued attempts to have Garcia cooperate with them, was all that filled their schedules for the next couple days. Though gradually, as every little kink and detail was figured out, they realized that it was perfect.
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Dr. Collins entered the office brightly, with a slight smile on his face, along with the bags under his eyes having reduced somewhat. Every detail was edited and modified until perfection, now all that was left was to wait from the word of Garcia for Nu-7’s deployment.
“Morning Phyllis todays the day we become demon hunters.” He greeted her cheerily, though she had her arms crossed and appeared apprehensive.
“Um sir?”
“Don’t tell me you’re worried about our plan now, we go live in 3 hours, don’t worry we made it perfect.” He consoled, though she didn’t adjust her attitude in any way.
“No, sir, I’m sure it is. The problem is Dr. Garcia.” She finally stated, preparing for the onslaught.
“What?” Collins asked instinctively, his eyes widening in shock. “What has that bastard done?” He asked, clenching his fists.
“She never transferred control of any MTF units to us.”
“What!” Collins reacted. “Does that bitch even know what she just did! Get her on the phone!” He ordered furiously, Phyllis immediately rushed off to get Dr. Garcia on the line. “Hold that order!” Collins quickly corrected himself, rushing over to her. “Get Area-14 on the line instead.”
Holding the cold grey phone up to his ear, Collins prepared his speech in his head, considering everything he would need to say to get Nu-7 on his side. With a rattle being heard from the other side, this was his que. “Mjolnir-3 reporting from Area-14.” A mild mannered voice greeted from the other side.
“Morning Sergeant, this is an urgent request, we need your squad to mount up and head for the south Reno mall immediately.”
“Who is this, what is your authority level?”
Collins forze up for a moment. “Listen, this is Dr. Franklin Collins, I know I don’t have the authority to command an MTF unit into action, but this mission will determine the fate of humanity as a species. I can’t afford for you to question orders right now, time is of the essence.” Collins dramatically emphasized.
“Dr. Collins, report to your superior and have them authorize the mission.” The man resisted.
“Hold on!” Collins pleaded, desperate to keep the operative on the line. “Dr. Garcia does not understand the magnitude of the situation.” Collins stated, shifting his strategie. “What I said was true, it is her ignorance that is keeping it from happening. So listen carefully Sergeant, either you can listen to me, follow the mission and risk trouble from your superior in exchange for praise from the O-5’s. Or you can play it safe and ignore me then, when things go wrong, deal with the report I will file to the O-5’s that will specifically mention you and Dr. Garcia jeopardized the mission and put humanity at risk.” Collins was met with only silence from the other end of the line. “I leave the choice up to you Sergeant.”
Collins glared back and forth nervously between Phyllis and the phone as the minutes dragged on without a response. Quite murmurs and discussion were audible from the phone. “Dr. Collins.” The voice crackled. “We’re at your service, my squad is mounting up and awaiting your signal.”
‘Thank god’ Collins breathed a sigh of relief, as Phyllis’s eyes lit up, their mission was back on track. “Alright Mjolnir-3, take 10 men, split across a pair of humvees and a containment vehicle. Also make sure you bring NODs and suppressors. I’ll relinquish you to my assistant who will fill you in on the plan.” Collins explained before handing the phone off to Phyllis. Finally sitting back in his chair with the knowledge that everything they had worked on the last couple days wasn’t a waste.
Notes:
So yea not much of the demon characters in this one, sorry, but next chapter things are gonna heat up real fast.
Regardless, I hope you enjoyed. If you have feedback on improvements or just nice words then I’d be glad to hear it.
Chapter 2: Bag & Tag
Summary:
With Dr. Collins’ newly acquired MTF unit, he sends them out to apprehend the SCP-666 entities.
Notes:
This chapter contains a lot of acronyms, which I’ll list below in case anyone is unfamiliar with them.
ROE - Rules of Engagement
NOD - Night Optical Devices
Cpl - Corporal
Sgt - Sergeant
KIA - Killed in Action
MTF - Mobile Task ForceAlso I realize that I don’t really explain the relation between Mjolnir-3 and Nu-7 very well. Essentially Mjolnir-3 is a subdivision of MTF Nu-7, not a separate Mobile task force. I did this just to distinguish the characters from the rest of MTF Nu-7 and avoid confusion.
That should be all, and without further ado please enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 2: Bag & Tag
“What’s the ROE on this one?” Sergeant Butler of MTF Nu-7 spoke into the radio strapped to the upper half of his plate carrier directly beside a small Union-jack patch. He and Corporal Ward, who had a Star-Spangled-Banner patch pinned to her helmet, had been parked outside the MeadWood mall for nearly an hour. They were both seated in an unmarked black humvee, Butler had his NODs – Night Optical Devices – down, keeping his eyes peeled on the fourth entrance to the mall.Cpl. Ward seated beside him also had her NODs down and scanned the surrounding area for civilians. Unlike most of the squad, which was outfitted with quad lense night-vision goggles, which obstructed less of their vision conspired to simple dual lenses, Ward wore a mono-lense sight. It was all she needed.
“Only fire if fired upon, we need at least one of them alive. Otherwise, bag, tag, and bring them to Site-59, you’ll receive further orders there.” Dr. Collins buzzed over the radio.
“Great, bag and tag orders are the worst, half the squad always ends up KIA.” Ward complained bitterly, being one of the more veteran of the squad members she’d experienced her share of failed op’s.
“What Corporal? Afraid you can’t handle a couple teens?” Butler asked rhetorically, mildly laughing to himself.
“It’s when they stop pretending to be teens that I become afraid of them.” Ward clarified.
“All stations, all stations, this is All Mjolnir-3-1, has anyone got eyes on yet?” Butler spoke impatiently into his radio, sighing boredly afterwards.
“Negative” “Nope” Several voices buzzed, all confirming the unfortunate.
“Dr. Collins, can you confirm that the entities are present?” Butler asked.
“Yes, CCTV still shows both entities moving throughout the store.” Collins replied, sounding significantly more energetic than the soldiers he called to patrol a mall at 9pm. “Just wait for them, store should be closing soon.”
“Affirmative, we’ll be here when they come out.” Butler confirmed, returning to bored silence as he leaned back into the Humvee’s worn padded seat.
“Did he say we had to take the target all the way to site-59?” Ward asked, turning to Butler who merely nodded, keeping his eyes on the entrance of the mall. “Isn’t that in the midwest? Ugh great, we get to go on a cross country road trip immediately after this.” She groaned, slouching back in her seat.
“Attention all stations, attention all stations, target entities have left the store. Be on standby, report location before engaging.” Collins called urgently over the radio. Instinctively, Butler and Ward swung open their doors, rushing out to take cover behind the humvee, both keeping their eyes locked on the entrance and their rifles pointed.
From within the green haze of the Night Optical Devices, a pair of figures appeared to be moving away from the glow of the mall and into the parking lot. “Sarge, you got this?” Ward asked, calling his attention to the figures.
“Yea, I see ‘em.” Butler confirmed, before reaching over to his radio. “Requesting confirmation on target appearance.” He asked before swiftly returning to his observation.
“Two teenage females, both dressed in gothic clothing, one with grey hair, the other should be wearing a beanie. Both confirmed holding shopping bags.” Collins explained, sounding almost excited in his tone.
Taking a moment to look closely, Sgt. Butler carefully analyzed both figures moving through the parking lot. Though the green haze of the NODs obstructed some details, he could clearly identify that one entity had long flowing hair while the other wore some sort of headdress. “Can confirm, target entities have exited through the second entrance of the mall. All Mjolnir-3 members converge on my location, repeat, All Mjolnir-3 members converge on my location.” He called, shutting off his radio and patting Ward on the shoulder, ushering her forward. “C’mon Ward, let’s go.”
Butler and Ward kept their rifles pointed in front of them as they quickly sped across the concrete and asphalt of the lot. “Mjolnir-3-1 this is Mjolnir-3-4, just arrived to your location we’re seconds behind you.” A male voice buzzed over the radio.
“Roger Mjolnir-3-4, we’re apprehending entities now.” Butler reported between breaths, still sprinting forward at full speed, with Ward closely behind him. They came within a couple meters of the girls, before they finally took notice. Staring wide eyed at the MTF units before bursting into a sprint, dropping their bags in the process.
Three muffled supersonic cracks echoed across the parking lot, as Cpl. Ward fired a burst in front of them, sending a clear message, stopping the teens in their tracks. “Hands up! Get on the fucking ground!” Ward yelled. Complying with the first, both girls put their hands up.
Folding his NODs back up, onto his helmet and out of the way, Sgt. Butler turned on the light attached to his rifle, scanning it over both entities. Both glared back bitterly at the agents, scowling as Butler signed the light in their faces. Able to fully identify both of them, one had long grey hair and red eyes, the other a black and gold beanie. “This is Mjolnir-3-1, positive affirmation on both entities, beginning ‘escort’ to Twain National.” Butler reported.
“Careful Mjolnir-3-1, we don’t know what the entities are capable of.” Dr. Collins advised. While Sgt. Butler was distracted, with one hand on his radio, the grey haired girl discreetly moved her head down and to the side, closer to the other girl.
“Octavia, run.” She whispered.
“What? N-no we can take em.” She countered, her eyes darting back and forth between Loona and the soldier, “With what my dad taught me, we can easily overpower them.”
“You said he only started training you a few weeks ago. No, we can’t risk it.” She briefly glanced back at the soldier, her eyes and rifle firmly aimed toward them. “Just run, I’ll be right behind you.”
“But-” Octavia attempted to argue but was immediately cut off.
“Run!” Loona demanded, to which the other girl slowly began to move to the side.
“I said; Don’t fuckign move!” Ward ordered, trailing her rifle on the girl. Immediately afterward the girl with grey hair ducked and lunged forward at Cpl. Ward. She immediately went to aim her rifle, firing a second three round burst, center of mass. Though the girl had ducked down on all fours, dodging the rounds, giving her a clear line toward Ward. She dove atop her, halfway through the leap the pale grey haired girl shed her disguises as she transformed into a blood eyed silver wolf.
Ward’s rifle was thrown aside as she collapsed to the ground, with the wolf atop her slashing at her chest and arms, instinctively raising her arms to protect her face. Drawing crimson blood, which dripped down the wolf's claws, as she shred Ward’s kevlar bracers. “Shit!” Butler yelled reactively, rushing forward, grabbing his rifle at either end, wrapping it over the wolf’s head and pulling back in an attempt to free Ward.
In an upward and back motion, Butler finally managed to pull the wolf off of Ward, continuing to struggle as she attempted to reach behind her and scratch at him. “There, get her!” A voice called in the distance, Butler spying two additional Nu-7 members rushing to their location, rifles aimed. He felt a sharp pain in his side, the wolf jammed her claws into his side where he wasn’t protected by ceramic plates.
His reaction loosened the restraint enough for the wolf to break free, giving a swift back kick that knocked Butler off his feet. Immediately breaking into a sprint, the wolf dashed across the parking lot. By the time Butler had sat up, Ward and the other two MTF members had formed a firing line, trailing the wolf. “Aim to wound!” Butler yelled mere seconds before the group began firing. Muffled rifle cracks and bullets zooming through the air, as the MTF members fired relentlessly.
Finally they heard a sharp yelp, almost like the sound a dog would make when in pain, followed by the wolf tripping over herself and falling to the floor. Laying motionless for a moment before the wolf began scrambling around. Breathing a sigh of relief, Butler got to his feet, sidearm drawn, scanning the surroundings for the second entity. Yet he was met with nothing but the pitch-black parking-lot. Brushing it aside he finally moved forward toward the entity, motioning for the other MTF members to file in behind him.
On their approach they spied the second humvee and the containment vehicle pulled up in the distance. With the remaining Nu-7 members dismounting and rallying to their location. Side by side Ward and Butler approached, passing by a small trail of blood as the wolf continued to attempt crawling away. She had been hit in the thigh, a bright red entry and exit wound being clearly visible perpendicular to the bone, going straight through it.
She stopped moving as Ward and Butler moved forward, waiting and laying perfectly still, until they were directly above her head. Sharply jumping up and snarling, attempting one last-ditch slash at the soldiers, before a sudden strike to the back of her head, from the back of Ward’s rifle, knocked her out cold. Her snout slamming back down into asphalt.
“Tie her up, then have the medic tend to her.” Butler ordered, holstering his pistol, a pair of MTF members moving forward to handcuff the entity, putting a black burlap bag over her head.
“She certainly was a feisty one wasn’t she?” Ward remarked, letting her rifle hang from a sling as she clutched her still bleeding arm.
“You alright ward?” Butler asked, motioning to her arm.
“It’s nothing.” She brushed off.
“Alright then, once the medics are done, string her up in the truck.” Butler commanded, turning away and going to retrieve his rifle, clicking his radio on as he walked. “Dr. Collins, we have your prize. We’ll head for Site-59 as soon as we patched ourselves up.”
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Dr. Collins waited impatiently, with his arms crossed, leaning against a concrete outdoor wall of Site-59. He had watched at least a dozen recovery vehicles pass through the entity receival area. Phyllis was nearby, having just emerged from the primary facility, quickly walking toward him. Mjolnir-3 had reported their acquisition of the target more than 24 hour prior, though they were driving all the way from Nevada they should have already been there by now.
“You’re still waiting out here sir?” Phyllis asked, approaching with a clipboard tucked under her arm. “I reserved a containment cell, as you requested.” She held out the clipboard toward Collins.
“Thanks Phyllis.” He took the documents, briefly staring down to inspect them. “I wanted to confirm in person that the entities were transported successfully.” Collins excused, tucking the docs beneath his arm, returning to his previous posture.
“Are you excited with the capture, sir?” Phyllis asked, a slight smirk crossing her face, she already knew the answer.
“Perhaps…” Collins replied. “There are few things that I would willingly wait nearly two hours outside for.”
“Don’t you have any other duties to attend to sir?” Phyllis asked curiously, she herself had been unavailable for most of the last day due to being assigned to several duties.
“Nope, I have been assigned to specifically and solely deal with SCP-666.” Collins explained. “So technically, this is part of my duties.” Collins mentioned cheekily. Distinctive rumbles of armored vehicles called their attention, as they witnessed a pair of black, unmarked, humvees and a containment vehicle pull up into the reception area. “Looks like them.” Collins mentioned, moving forward toward the newly arrived convoy, Phyllis followed suit.
They quickly sped toward the convoy, watching the members of Mjolnir-3 dismount and secure their vehicles. Collins approached a man in completely black tactical gear, with night vision goggles folded up on his helmet, a gold and black patch of 3 chevrons was attached to his shoulder. “Good morning, Sergeant? I presume.” Collins greeted, holding out a hand halfway between himself and the man.
“Dr. Collins?” He asked, to which the doctor nodded. “Sergeant Butler.” He stated taking Dr. Collins' hand, shaking it briskly.
“You alright there Sergeant?” Collins asked, pointing to the agent's side. A wide tear ran across the side of the Sergeant’s plate carrier, revealing a set of white bandages underneath it.
“It’s nothing.” Butler brushed off, not even paying attention to the wound. “Though I have to admit, your entities were more than you led on.”
“Speaking of which, you have the entities in tow?” Dr. Collins asked curiously, though the slight increase in his tone was more than noticeable.
“Follow me, Doc.” Sergeant Butler led them to the containment vehicle, where additional members of the squad were already waiting. “Get her out.” Butler ordered, as various MTF members began unlatching the back of the vehicle, until the doors eventually swung open with a slight squeak. A pair of agents clambered inside, returning seconds later with the same teenage girl from the security footage, hanging completely slack in the agents arms.
“That looks like her alright.” Collins mentioned briefly looking the entity up and down.
“She’s on tranqs for now, should be back up in a couple hours. Caused quite the scuffle, me and Cpl. Ward were injured, the second entity escaped in the meanwhile.” Appearing hesitant to continue, Butler put his hand on Collins shoulder, ushering him to the side, moving away from the rest of the group. “This thing is weird, doc.” Butler mentioned, briefly looking back at it over his shoulder. “We apprehended them and they still looked human, when it charged Ward it transformed, appearing almost like a wolf, claws and everything. After fleeing we opened fire on it, hitting it in the thigh. Medics said the round shattered the bone, they stabilized her enough to survive the journey. Couple hours back they went in to replace the dressing, medics found no evidence that there ever was an injury. Not just the muscle or skin either, the bone itself was fully healed.” Collins was practically staring through the Sergeant, completely enthralled with the story.
“Fascinating…” Collins mumbled, with wonder in his eyes. “Get the medic to file a report for me will you? This is a fantastic new-”
“Dr. Franklin Collins!” A feminate voice yelled furiously from behind them. Turning Collins expression sour’d, as he was met with Dr. Garcia storming toward him from the entrance of the building.
“Ugh, listen Sergeant.” Collins assured, monotonize-ing his tone. “That-” Collins pointed to Phyllis, who was still standing by the containment truck. “Is my assistant, tell her any important information relating to the entity. Take this-” He handed over the clipboard to the Sergeant. “Give it to her and she can take you to the containment cell we reserved for the entity.”
“Alright, Doc.” Butler stated, ending the conversation as he turned and headed back to rejoin his team.
Collins reluctantly turned back and began approaching Dr. Garcia, her eyes being practically on fire, if a stare could kill. It was no mystery to Collins, he knew exactly what he’d done ‘wrong’ and he knew exactly what she was going to say. Coming to a halt, Collins stood only a foot away from Dr. Garcia, though he kept his head high, staring her down.
“Where should I even begin?” Garcia asked bitterly, not even attempting to hide the contempt and spite in her tone.
“Perhaps with the fact that I have progressed further with this assignment than you ever did?”
Dr. Garcia merely scoffed at his statement. “Progressed how, exactly?” She asked demeaningly, attempting to lean forward and over Dr. Collins in some attempt to establish superiority, despite the fact that he was a quarter foot taller than her. “By detaining some girl?”
On que the MTF unit, joined by a handful of white clad security personnel, marched past with the entity in tow, moving into the building. “What?” Collins reacted, raising his brow. “Doctor, I don’t know if you have realized but she is the same girl as from the security footage. She is one of them, the Sergeant even described how she transformed into a wolf.”
“And at what cost, Dr. Collins, at what cost? You went behind my back, broke the chain of command, disobeyed my orders, took control of an MTF team without the proper authority, and enacted a field mission without approval.” Garcia listed bitterly, as Collins just stared back at her blankly. “You broke every rule in the book, the O-5’s will hear of this.”
Collins clenched a fist, his eyes igniting with fire. “Listen to me Dr. Garcia!” He got right in her face pointing sharply at her. “You are blind if you can’t see how important the work we are doing is. You can’t deny it, you're trying to undermine me, I don’t know why and I don’t care, but I’m gonna see this case through to the end.” Collins stated, brushing past her and continuing toward the building, though turning back just as he reached the entrance. “Go ahead, file your report to the O-5’s, they won’t be able to do anything today anyway! I’ll just have to work fast.” He yelled back, before turning and continuing into Site-59.
Notes:
So Dr. Collins is in trouble and Loona’s been captured.
Anyways I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I’ve honestly been kinda surprised at the amount of people that have taken an interest in this, and I thank you for your support.
The next few chapters are already written and will be released weekly just to give me time to edit them, however after that there might be an increase in time between chapter releases, because I still need to write them. I don’t know when that’ll happen so just wait and see, for now expect a new chapter roughly weekly (most likely on friday or the weekends).
Again I am still a fairly novice writer, so if you have feedback or improvements then I’d be glad to hear it, otherwise nice words are also appreciated.
Thank you for reading.
Chapter 3: How they did it
Summary:
Loona is imprisoned and forced to face the foundation, as Dr. Collins moves his schedule forward to accomplish as much as possible before being forced to face the consequences of his actions.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 3: How they did it
Loona’s eyes stung as soon as she opened them, harsh white light shining down on her. Squinting, she managed to push herself up into a seated position. A soft cushiony material supporting her, as her eyes darted around wild, trying to take in as many details as fast as possible. In all of four seconds of looking around she’d already seen everything.
She was in a room, perhaps two by three meters wide at most, that was entirely stark white, apart from a solid steel door on the far side of the room. Seated upon a bunk with a mattress only centimeters wide, the other appliance consisted of a sink and toilet and nothing else. Of course there was also the, obvious, black half-sphere camera in the ceiling.
As if it all suddenly clicked together, and she finally realized the situation she was in, Loona held her hands out infront of her. Her claws and fur were absent as her hands were covered by pale skin, her disguise had held up through her sleep, now the question was if anyone would fall for it. Her left shoulder was slightly soar as she rubbed it with her opposite hand. Finally noticing the orange jumpsuit she’d been stuffed into, after a quick inspection the suit had no pockets. Meaning her phone was gone, great.
She turned and slouched, with her back against the wall, staring mindlessly into white concrete wall. A faint murmur of conversation caught her attention, rapidly continuing as it grew louder and clearer. Jumping off her bunk, she quickly pressed her ear to the steel door to hear better.
A voice spoke on the other side, “So, wait, we brought this thing in a few hours ago, and they already want it out again?”
“I don’t know, man. The doc was all frantic and insistent.” Another voice replied.
Before Loona had a chance to move, the door rapidly slid upward. She jumped back, being met with two soldiers, dressed in white suits and black equipment, carrying guns.
“Well at least she’s awake this time.” One of them stated, “Doc’s wanna talk to you, step out of the cell.” They ordered.
“W-where am I,” Loona asked, taking a few steps back from the guards.
“In a cell…” The other guard answered, “If you step out you’ll be in a hallway.”
Loona furrowed her brow, not exactly the response she’d hoped for, “Where’s my phone?”
“Where do you think, princess, foundation spooks probably already picked all through it. Just make this easy, will you, and step out?” The guard complained, to which Loona took another step back. “Step out of the cell.” They ordered, as the guard charged the bolt on his gun.
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Dr. Collins hurriedly raced down the facility's corridors, with hastily gathered files and notes clutched securely against his side by one arm. Passing by one containment cell after the other, as bright fluorescent, mildly blue, lights shone above them. Phyllis was right beside him, she had barely managed to secure an interrogation chamber in time for the interview today. If everything was going according to plan, the entity should be awake and in the interrogation room alongside a handful of security personnel. Both of them knew that it was now or never.
Yet, how the entity managed to travel to earth was too important, they had to figure it out, even if it was the last thing Dr. Collins did.
They let out a simultaneous sigh of relief as they noticed a pair of white security personnel, brandishing submachine guns, standing guard outside the interrogation control room. It was not a permanently guarded position, so if there were guards then there was an entity inside.
“Thank god.” Collins exclaimed between exhaustive breaths. “Alright, the entity should be inside, you just need to sit tight in the control room.” He told Phyllis as they proceeded into the room, readjusting themselves and becoming more presentable.
They stepped inside the small control room, monitors lining a wall all displaying security footage of the interrogation room. Sitting at a table was the entity, still in its ‘human’ form, alongside a couple security personnel. Though everything appeared to be going as planned, any semblance of promise, excitement, or even progress immediately disintegrated. Collins and Phyllis were met with the overly smug face of Dr. Garcia.
“Dr. Garcia?” Collins' eyes suddenly became frantic. “You came to observe?” He asked cautiously, though he knew he was almost certainly wrong.
“Partially dr. Collins, partially.”she stated smugly, crossing her arms in front of her, like she’d just won the lottery. “No, I’m here to tell you that you are under investigation by the O-5’s. Meaning that you no longer have any involvement in any ongoing projects.”
“What?!” Collins reacted, his eyes wide and frantic. “Do you realize what you’re fucking doing?! You said it yourself, this case can determine the fate of humanity and you're interfering?” Collins wiped his face, cupping his mouth and crossing his arms, pacing around the room. Thinking, trying to think of anything that could let him go through with it, any loophole or technicality. He stopped dead in his tracks, standing perfectly still, as it hit him. “This case has already been approved, meaning that due to my absence I need to be replaced with another researcher. Research assistant Phyllis will take the interview for me.”
Phyllis glared at him with wide eyes, taking a step back, recoiling physically, almost unable to contain her shock or surprise. “Doctor, I’ve never-”
“Absolutely not!” Dr. Garcia was fuming. “This interview is to be canceled, you can’t just add whoever you wish into this!”
“Phyliss is already registered for this case, Dr. Garcia. We both worked on the SCP-049 case and I’m sure you remember the 049.3 incident.” Any emotion was removed from Collins as he explained in a more calculative manner. “After Dr. Hamm was killed, his body was removed, Dr. Sherman conducted an interview in his stead. Due to my own inability to conduct the interview I am allowed as operation leader to assign someone to take my place.”
“Phyllis! You will not comply with that order.” She demanded, catching Phyllis off guard causing her to jump in place.
“Careful Garcia, you’re breaking the chain of command. This interview is being conducted on my behalf, it was approved as such, therefore it is my jurisdiction as to how it is conducted.” Collins turned to Phyllis. “Phyllis, you will conduct the interview.” She just glared at him with concern and insecurity. “Trust me…” He whispered. A long silence followed, Dr. Collins stood victorious, as Dr. Garcia failed to create a counter argument, remaining silent. “You can take it up with O-5 if you want, but you know I’m right.”
“...Fine. Research assistant Phyllis will conduct the interview with the SCP-666-2 instance, but I will remain to observe, don’t try anything Dr. Collins.” She threatened.
“That’ll be fine.” Collins agreed, ushering Phyllis off to the side.
“Sir, I’ve never conducted an interview with an SCP instance before.” Phyllis admitted quietly, shifting uncomfortably as the realization as to what she was about to do set in.
“I know, listen closely and everything will be fine.” He comforted, handing over the large stack of documents and papers. “Everything you need is in there. The first page on the pile has questions on it, I was planning to ask. You’ll need to get her to shed the disguise. There are photos of Mjolnir-3’s bodycam footage, that should be enough to convince her.” Phyllis just hung her head, staring at the ground before her, lazily holding the papers Collins had given her. Collins put his hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up at him. Fear incarnate compounded on her face. “Don’t worry it’ll go fine. Don’t show it any fear, be confident, be determined, don’t sympathize with it, remember you are better than it.”
“Well… that was quite the motivational speech, doctor.” She complimented, smirking at him, her face appearing more lively.
“You ready?”
“Yea, yea, I think, maybe…” Phyllis responded, stumbling over her words, losing at least some of the fear that placated her earlier. She turned on her heels, stepping with short yet confident strides out of the control room and through the corridor into the interrogation room, where the SCP-666-2 instance was still waiting. Dr. Collins and Garcia moved over to the security monitors, carefully watching and patiently waiting for the research assistant.
She entered the dead cold room nervously, the silence didn’t help her nerves, yet she persisted nonetheless. Gradually shuffling forward toward the steel chair that sat opposed to the entity. Leaning back in her chair, the SCP-666-2 instance snarled at her every move, still in her disguise, however her street clothes had been exchanged for an orange D-class jumpsuit. Foundation protocol. Phyllis put down the documentation she’d been carrying and took her seat.
Silence, the goddamned silence, every move Phyllis made and the thing just watched. She did nothing more than sort out the files and look through them, yet the silent staring still unnerved her.
“SCP-666-2… Loona is it?” Phyllis started while the entity's eyes suddenly adjusted. “I was looking through one of the CCTV transcripts, and that’s what the other one called you.” Nothing changed as they returned to silence and the entity remained quiet.
“C’mon Phyllis, don’t let her lock up.” Collins mumbled to himself, mentally praying for his assistant to succeed.
“What was the other one called? … Octavia?” With her eyes flaring up the entity growled at Phyllis, though soon took notice of the armed guards in the room and backed down.
“Why am I here?” The entity spoke up, the fury in her voice was unmistakable though she kept calm. “I’m just some girl and you arrest me like that?!”
“Don’t try to play us, that whole spiel might work with ordinary police but not with us.” Phyllis commented, shifting through various documents. “Gunshot wound, broken femur, and intense bleeding. The medic who patched you up said that when he went to replace the dressing 24 hours later there was no evidence of injury.” The room returned to silence as the creature refused to answer, staring down at the table. “What kind of human can do that?”
“You're going off of the testimony of one person? Don’t you think that he made a mistake cause, you know, I clearly haven’t been shot.” she responded, stereotypically teenage, overly dramatic yet at the same time disinterested manner.
Phyllis tossed the photograph of the body camera footage across the table. Despite being slightly blurry, it showed clear as day the silver and red eyed appearance of the wolf, or at the very least something not human. “Stop trying to hide what you are, Loona, we already know.”
Her attention seemed to finally have been caught, bright red eyes acknowledging and staring at the photo. Recessing back into a silent state, the girl proceeded to just hang her head and stare into the grey concrete of the floor. “Stop pretending Loona, make this easy on yourself.” Phyllis postulated, though the girl remained unresponsive, appearing almost ashamed.
Her mind jumped back to what Dr. Collins had said ‘ don’t sympathize with it, remember you are better than it’ he was more experienced than she was afterall. Yet she couldn’t shed how wrong it felt. Was this really the best way to approach this?
Phyllis rose to her feet, sliding the chair back with a screech in the process. She took cautious steps toward the entity, looking over her shoulders, making sure the security personnel were still there. Standing beside ‘it’ she crouched down, getting on her level, placing a hand on the entity's shoulder. “Loona listen…”
“What the hell are you doing?” Collins said aloud, subconsciously, his brow tilting as he stared more intensely, watching Phyllis’s actions ever more closely through the monitor.
“We’re not evil, we’re not here to tear you away from your world, your people, and your family.” Phyllis reduced her previously more aggressive tone, attempting to sound sympathetic. “Our organization is sworn to protect humanity, which is where we collide with you and your friends. We don’t want to destroy you or those you love, we just want to reach an understanding. But I can’t do that without being able to understand you, and you need to give me that chance, to understand you.”
Phyllis remained crouched beside the entity for a couple seconds waiting patiently. Her eyes glaring up as the slender face of the teen morphed into a long snout, grey and silver fur appearing to cover all of her skin, as the disguise gradually gave way to the wolf. It turned to look at her, striking red eyes piercing through her gaze as Phyllis could do little more than stare in awe.
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A bright spotlight couldn’t be more fitting as Dr. Collins took center stage. Darkness surrounded him on all sides, an entire squad of MTF Alpha-1 watched his every action. Finally, a wall of five monitors lit up, casting blue light across the room, illuminating his face.
Each one had the darkened silhouette of a figure displayed on it, one hardly distinguishable from the next, especially if it wasn’t for the tags displaying each of their titles. Running from O-5-1 through O-5-5, left to right.
Collins knew that this was it, now or never, everything was on the line.
“Gentleman!” O-5-2 announced, voice scrambling completely muting out any identifiable tones, with the deep tone only identifying it as a man. Presumably. “We have met today for the prosecution and judgment of the actions of Dr. Franklin Collins.”
“Mr. Collins.” O-5-4 continued, a presumably more feminate tone speaking. It made Collins wonder if they would go so far as to hide even their gender. “You have been accused of breaking the chain of command, the enactment of a field mission without approval, taking command over a militarized force without approval, disobeying orders, and the purposeful tampering of material within an Keter class SCP case.” The vocoded voice listed. “How do you plead?”
“Not guilty, this case is false, it was propped up on exaggerated charges.” Collins pleaded.
“Are you denying your actions Dr. Collins?” O-5-1 asked, the figure appearing to lean forward, though no more of ‘its’ appearance was visible.
“Of course not.” Collins affirmed, bowing his head slightly.
“So you did commit the aforementioned charges?” O-5-1 re-confirmed.
“Yes, I did.” Collins confirmed. “Though my actions were justifiable, and quite frankly should be praised, what I did was necessary for the progression of the SCP-666 case. May I explain?”
“Mr. Collins, I’m sure you understand that SCP-666 is of a keter class and a potential apollyon level threat. Anything you say about it will be looked through thoroughly, and can be used against you, understand?” O-5-4 explained, to which Collins nodded. “Then indeed you may.”
“The SCP-666 case was given to me by Dr. Garcia, from the beginning my work was understaffed and underfunded. I gave repeated requests for increased resources, though they went ignored. We had a breakthrough when the instance, designated SCP-666-2-L, was spotted by Agent Rustam Davis of Pi-1 alone and-” Collins explained, being cut off by O-5-3
“666-2-L Dr. Collins?”
“Was the designation I assigned to the entity for the sake of easy identification from other specific SCP-666-2 instances. It was an SCP-666-2 instance that called itself ‘Loona’.” Collins explained.
“Have you identified any other 666-2 instances, Dr. Collins?” O-5-3 persisted.
“Yes, we have identified and labeled a second instance, 666-2-O, named Octavia.”
“Very well, please continue.” O-5-3 insisted.
“As I said; the sighting of 666-2-L alone on the surface was a new discovery, as prior it only appeared alongside 666-1 instances. It was after this that I requested a full report from Agent Davis, which I never received. Upon confirmation that her appearance was a recurring one, my assistant and I put together a plan to capture 666-2-L. Dr. Garcia promised to requisition an MTF team for the capture. On the day 666-2-L was set to return, I had still not received any MTF team, it was then that I took control of Mjolnir-3 of Nu-7 to capture 666-2-L. Which was successful.”
“Please hold, Dr. Collins.” O-5-5 requested as the room was bathed in silence. The figures continued to move on the screen, clear movements that suggested they were talking. Meaning they were still conversing, they just didn’t want Collins listening in. “Dr. Collins, we never received a report of any SCP-666-2 instances being detained.”
“666-2-L was delivered to Site-59 only yesterday, I never had a chance to write a report as Dr. Garcia had already reported me, so I rushed to conduct an interview with the instance. My assistant, Phyllis, was with me the entire time, she can confirm.” Collins elaborated.
“What about 666-2-O?” O-5-3 asked.
“She was also present during the capture of 666-2-L, though escaped.”
“Understood, we have already messaged your assistant to corroborate your story.” O-5-5 added. “We will also be requesting all copies of all documentation relating to the entity and interview. Dr. Collins, your case is being put on hold, you will be detained until we can confirm your statements.”
“Wait!” Collins requested desperately, having noticed a pair of Alpha-1 members approaching him. “I have other valuable information about SCP-666.”
He again watched as the O-5’s continued to move without sound, conversing among themselves. “That being?” O-5-2 asked.
“I know how they came into our world.”
“Hmm…” O-5-2 hummed tentatively, though the audio cut off as they left Dr. Collins in silence. Looking around himself he found that the Alpha-1 members had backed off, at least he’d made some sort of impression. “Very well then, Dr.Collins, please explain.” O-5-2 encouraged.
“During the interview with 666-2-L it explained that she worked for a business, where ‘demons’ would pay them to kill living humans.” Collins explained regaining his composure, being able to breath more comfortably. “666-2-L explained that it had an employer who had made a deal with a supposed prince. In return the prince gave them access to a book they simply called the Grimoir. According to 666-2-L, it contains runic symbols that create the portals between realms.”
“Is it the book or the symbols themselves that are anomalous?” O-5-5 questioned.
“That is unknown. Though from my limited speculation, I find it more likely that the book is an anomaly.” Collins suggested, citing his own knowledge. “During the interview 666-2-L was asked if it could describe or draw any of the symbols. She couldn’t, in fact she couldn’t even remember any of them.” Collins explained. Every question the O-5’s asked furthered their curiosity and his potential budget. Every second, every question, ever more progress, it made him smirk subconsciously. “It could be that the book has mind altering properties, so users can’t memorize the symbols.”
“Well, this… information you have provided us is very interesting, dr. Collins.” O-5-4 commented, almost sounding praiseful, unless the voice modulators were only making it seem that way. “Of course everything you have given us will be thoroughly combed through, but it has come with unanimous agreement from the present council, you have been acquitted of any wrongdoing to the foundation. We also request you stay a while longer as other matters are voted on.” The O-5 left off, though continued moving alongside all the other O-5’s as if they were still talking. They just wanted to keep Collins out of it, again.
Despite the silence, and the awkwardly uncomfortable situation of the Alpha-1 members watching him, Collins continued to wait in place. 10 minutes later and Collins was still left to sit in the silence, while the O-5’s did whatever they were doing. His smile had faded, crossed his arms, and kept shifting between which leg to put his weight on. After another 20 minutes he began to shift uneasily, needing to keep himself from running to the door. Could they have told him that just to keep him in place? In all his years in the foundation he never thought the O-5’s were cruel, but it was only now he was realizing just how little he knew about them. So, would they kill him? Tell him all that just to keep him in place and make it easier?
“Dr. Collins, we have reached a decision.” O-5-1 finally announced, a full half hour after they had called off, startling Collins with the sudden nature of the statement. “You are already free to go and you will be allowed to continue work on SCP-666. Dr. Garcia has proven… unreliable, however due to current staffing within the foundation we can’t promote you. But you will no longer report to Dr. Garcia.” Quickly overcoming his paranoia, Collins eyes lit up as he processed what the O-5 just said. “Instead you will report directly to Dr.Wilcox, though this breaks the chain of command, we have deemed 666 dangerous enough for it to be worthwhile. However, Dr. Collins, remember that this only applies to 666 and Dr.Wilcox, any other case you will still abide by ordinary protocols, you were not promoted. Are we clear?”
Collins almost couldn’t believe what he just heard, finally all the difficulties and lack of resources of the first 3 months were finally over. He could make actual progress now. “Of course, sir.” Collins agreed, desperately hiding how happy he really was, maintaining professionality.
“In that case you may return to your work.” O-5-2 relieved him. Allowing Collins to turn on his heels and march, with a new sense of purpose, out of the dark room.
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“So… they promoted you?” Phyllis questioned, an obvious glare of confusion following her statement. His ‘trial’, if you could even call it that, took place so early in the morning that later that same day operations resumed as normal. She and Collins had been walking back from break as he explained the whole ordeal to her, with an abnormal smile on his face the entire time. At least abnormal for him.
“Not really.” Collins clarified. “We were transferred to be under the direct command of Dr.Wilcox, so Garcia won’t be an issue anymore.” He elaborated, as they proceeded down the hall toward the reserved containment cells, they had scheduled a second interview with Loona. One Dr. Wilcox had specifically requested and wished to be a part of.
“That’s great!”
“I know right.” Collins agreed, comfortably smiling as he turned to her. As soon as he turned away he shifted his expression uncomfortably. “Say, Phyllis, what did you tell the O-5’s after they messaged you?”
“The truth. What else?” Philly stated simply, seeing nothing significant to it. “After Alpha-1 arrested you, I knew you’d tell them I could corroborate your story. So I was waiting for them to either come and collect me or to message me. It was the latter so I responded immediately.”
“Really? You did that?” Collins reacted, his eyes wide and brow ajar. “That’s why they released me so quickly.” He muttered to himself, placing a hand on his chin.
“Is it that surprising, sir?”
“No, I just didn’t think that you’d-”
Cutting himself off, Collins was caught off guard by the mild sound of a squelch and dripping. Gazing down at the ground, one of his polished brown formal leather shoes was standing in a crimson red puddle. Looking up, it was only then that he noticed, between the rows of containment cells, lay a stained white clad security member laying face down, unmoving. A large oozing red exit wound on the man’s back, a shot having penetrated straight through his collar bone.
Phyllis covered her mouth, as they both stared in shock, having been so caught up in their conversation they hadn’t noticed the grizzly scene before them. Having regained her composure first, Phyllis raced toward one of the nearby emergency phones, which were spaced intermittently across the walls.
“There’s been a breach in containment, we need Mjolnir-3 down here ASAP!”
Notes:
Not much to say after this chapter.
(except that were finally getting into some of hell soon)
Otherwise thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and if you have feedback or suggestions for improvement I would appreciate it.
Chapter 4: Breacher
Summary:
Blitzo panics after learning what happened to Loona and moves swiftly into unknown danger to rescue her, meanwhile Dr. Collins moves forward with his new lead unaware of what's coming for him.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 4: Breacher
Mild Red light shone in, from hell’s typical colored sky, through the windows of Imediate Murder Professionals offices. Blitzo had been pacing back and forth, at the front of the briefing room, with his arms crossed for the last 20 minutes. His face continually shifting from fear, to concern, to anger, and so forth. With his other employees hardly sharing his emotional fluctuations.
Moxxie just sat with his head resting on his hand, his eyes half closed, patience quickly withering away. Millie didn’t share her husband's dejected nature, she just patiently waited to start work, it was nearly 9am after all.
“Sir!” Moxxie yelled as Blitzo had just turned for the 50th lap across the office. Finally stopping he stared at Moxxie with a snarl. “Can we just move on, and start work already?”
“Oh sure Moxxie let’s just get back to murder while my fucking daughter is missing!” Blitzo yelled right back.
“Don’t you follow us, like, everywhere? Why don’t you know where she is?” Millie, rationally, questioned.
Blitzo scoffed at the question. “Because I actually respect my Loonie’s privacy.” He stated self righteously.
“If only you’d do the same for us.” Moxxie grumbled.
“Oh don’t get your panties in a twist, you know like you two did last night.” He stopped, smirking to himself before adding to his quipp. “I’m talking about you Moxxie.” He finished, to which Moxxie just glared at him with offense spread across his face.
Moxxie sighed exhaustively before continuing. “Regardless, you haven’t checked on her today? Knowing her she’s probably just hungover and passed out.”
“How dare you talk about my Loonie like that?!” Blitzo yelled authoritatively, pointing sharply at Moxxie. “I swear to god Moxxie, keep this up and I’ll be forced to let you go.” Blitzo threatened turning his nose up high.
“Well she is a teenager, so maybe she snuck off somewhere.” Millie injected, diverting the topic of conversation. “Like a party, a bar, or a club, or something.” She proposed.
Blitzo just turned away from both of them, resuming his pacing across the room. Though he squinted his eyes more, staring at the floor, engrossed in thought. While the room just returned to silence.
Moxxie leaned in close to his wife, keeping his tone hushed. “Maybe we should call it in for today, I doubt he’s getting past this any time soon.” He suggested.
“I know you’ve got some distaste for him hun, but this could be much more serious than it seems. What if he needs our help?” She urged with her typical southern twang. They both looked back at Blitzo for a moment, he just continued his pacing and contemplation. “Maybe you should offer to... you know.”
“Help?” Moxxie finished, with contempt in his tone as he looked at his wife with a raised brow. “You’ve seen how much he’s involved himself in our personal lives right?”
“Yea, I know, but what if something truly is wrong? I wouldn’t want to see any harm coming to that girl.” Millie pleaded, to which her husband groaned at the idea. Yet with enough charm she knew he’d come around.
“Sir, what if we-” Moxxie groaned slightly before continuing, though he had caught his boss’s attention as Blitzo once again looked at them. “-Helped you look for her.” He recoiled almost immediately after finishing his statement, immediately regretting it.
“Well… at least you’ve finally made yourself useful, Moxxie.” Blitzo responded, taking exaggerated steps toward the door. “But yes, I’ve given Loona enough time to show herself, so let’s go look for her.” Blitzo continued, reaching to open the door, while Millie and Moxxie rose from their seats.
Blitzo swung open the door with a wide arc, revealing the halls of the office complex, alongside a dark dressed figure rapidly approaching the door. The figure attempted to slow itself, though it was already too late, stumbling forward into Blitzo. Due to being in the middle of conversation, and not paying attention, Blitzo merely stood still, blearily having time to look at the figure. They both tumbled to the ground falling atop one another. Millie and Moxxie quickly rushed over to assist the two, only now realizing that the figure was a young avian demon wearing a black and gold beanie.
Octavia had bursted through the door, a panicked and worried expression on her face, quickly scrambling to her feet.
“Wha- Octavia? What the hell are you doing here?” Moxxie gave her hand, helping her up.
“Christ, princess! Maybe watch where you’re going!” Blitzo yelled, clambering to his feet by himself.
“I need you guys’s help.” She pleaded, disparity displayed bright and clear in her bright red and white eyes, she almost looked as if she’d burst into tears. “Loona’s been taken.”
“Taken!” Blitzo yelled, violently grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her close to his face. “Where!” His bright yellow eyes displayed a fiery fury, all the while sharply gritting his teeth. “Where! Where is my poor girl?” He demanded.
Octavia was taken aback, too stunned to properly formulate any sort of answer. “She- she…” She barely managed to mutter, before Millie got between the two, extending her arms out to keep them far apart.
“Hold on now.” She cautioned, giving Octavia some breathing room. “By Satan Blitz, look at her, she’s distraught. Give her some time, let her explain.” Millie urged as Blitzo reluctantly stepped back, frowning at the girl, crossing his arms. She had left the floor open to Octavia, who took a couple seconds before finally explaining what happened.
“W-we, me and Loona, we wanted to hang out, without having to worry about you guys or my dad, so we went to the surface.” She explained hesitantly, seeming almost ashamed.
“You went to the surface!” Blitzo yelled outraged, again moving forward toward Octavia. Millie held out her arms, keeping him back the best she could. “How did you even get to the surface, I had the book with me the entire fucking time!”
“We drew the symbols ahead of time, both to leave and to get back, then left the book with you.” She explained, clearly ashamed of her actions, calming Blitzo somewhat though he continued to pout, stare, and snarl. “We were wrapping up and about to come back, w-when these people showed up. They were all dressed in black, like military, almost. They shot at us and ordered us around-”
“Shot at you!” Shocked, Blitzo yelped, praying internally that his daughter was ok. “Did my little Loonie get shot?” He became more desperate than enraged.
“N-no, I don’t know, they seemed to want us alive so I don’t know.” Octavia affirmed, relieving Blitzo, though she remained visibly distraught by the event. “Loona told me to run while she distracted them, so I did. I ran straight to the portal we had drawn earlier, activated it, and dove in. I-I left her.” Visible tears welled up in her eyes, though she restrained them, it wouldn’t take much anymore for them to flow freely.
“God, first you two run off to the surface to play hookie, and now my baby’s been imprisoned by some wannabe soldiers?” Appearing lost, Blitzo almost mirrored Octavia’s distress and fear.
“D-did they say anything?” Moxxie asked, keeping his tone low and considerate, appearing more concerned with the situation.
“No, ugh, I don’t know.” Placing a hand on her forehead, Octavia desperately tried to recall and piece together what she could. “They said something about ‘Twain National’ b-but that could just be code. They also had this weird logo on their uniforms, this kinda circle with 3 arrows in it, alongside the letters SCP.”
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Holding his phone up to his ear, Blitzo had been talking and, mostly, listening for the last hour. His panicked demeanor had almost vanished, as the voice on the other end caused him to regain some confidence. “Yea… yeah… alright… uh huh? Alright, then this should be a piece of cake!” Going to hang up, he suddenly paused, an innate horror spreading across his face, almost blushing slightly. “Um, well no, it’s just… alright, love you too.” He admitted quietly before abruptly hanging up. “Alright!” Blitzo turned back toward the others, a smile creeping across his face as he regained his confidence. “This isn’t anything we haven’t done before. The guys that got Loonie are another bullshit little secret organization, bla, bla, bla, at the center of Twain National park is the facility where they’re keeping her.”
“Why does this keep happening?” Moxxie put a hand up to his forehead, they had done it all before. “Why do humans have so many of these weird conspiracy corporations?”
“Why do you enjoy taking it in the rear Moxxie? The answer to both is who knows.” Perturbed, Moxxie glared at Blitzo, all these years and still respect was a nonexistent factor. “Anyhow it should be as easy as it was last time. And now that we know where we’re going…” Pulling out Stolas’s grimoire, Blitzo began flipping through pages. “We can quickly hop in, get Loona, and hop out.”
“Sir, are you sure we should rush into this so recklessly?” Moxxie asked, all the while he was only met with the back of Blitzo’s head as he finished drawing the rune on the ground in front of him.
“Huh, what? How about you go shove it up your ass Moxxie.” Glowing bright white and coming to life, the rune created a gateway in the floor. With an overzealous jump, Blitzo quickly leapt into the white void, still clutching the grimoire.
“He’s never gonna let that go is he?” Moxxie mombeled, standing with his arms crossed.
“Probably not hun, we’re just gonna have to live with it.” Millie wrapped an arm around his shoulder to comfort him. “C’mon now, we ain’t gonna let him have all the fun are we?” She suggested, drawing a knife as she ushered him toward the portal. A slight smirk crossing his face, Moxxie produced a rifle as together they jumped into the white void.
Abruptly closing shut after Millie and Moxxie jumped in, the room was brought back to its original dim lighting. Octavia was left alone as the others went off to save Loona, all she could do now was go home, wait, and hope.
Emerging into a pristine white corridor, Blitzo took a moment to gather his surroundings. Steel grey security doors lined both sides of the corridor, stretching on for a while, beside each door was a plaque with an image and description.
“The fuck? Holy shit!” A muffled masculine voice called from beside him, dressed in white fatigues with black body armor and helmet, stood a guard. Only just having noticed the imp, Blitzo could only imagine his expression as his face was covered by an orange visor.
“Oh right, I should've thought of that.” Drawing a pistol, Blitzo pointed it up at the guard’s head before pulling the trigger. Engulfed in bright yellow muzzle flash and flame, a spatter of blood spread across the ground as the guard collapsed on his back and lay motionless on the floor.
Emerging directly behind him, Millie and Moxxie emerge alongside one another. “Gah, it’s about time you two show up!” Blitzo groaned.
“What is this place?” Millie asked, admiring the sterile nature of the facility, gazing up the fluorescent lights intermittently spaced across the ceiling.
“This looks like a detention block, meaning these must be cells.”
“Really? Now truly what made you think that Moxxie?” Blitzo mocked, Moxxie turned up his nose at him. “C’mon, Loonie’s gotta be in one of these.” Blitzo said, running down the corridor inspecting each of the photos, looking for wherever Loona might be. Millie and Moxxie followed closely behind.
Prestien corridor after prestien corridor, passing by numerous crossroads, occasionally coming across the odd security guard to shoot. Their searching became more and more frantic as they found less and less evidence.
“Oh, wait! Here sir look here!” Moxxie called, beckoning the other 2 to his location, he was frantically pointing at the plaque beside one of the cells. Depicting a bipedal silver haired wolf with red eyes, the photo couldn’t be more clear.
“Nice! Now how do we blow this joint?” Blitzo pondered, sliding a finger across his chin as he crossed his arms, looking at the door with a slight pout. Before he, or anyone else, had time to make a suggestion a pair of arms picked him up and forced him against the floor, a second pair restraining his arms. “Hey what the fuck!” Clad entirely in black military gear, they were completely surrounded by 10 heavily armed soldiers pointing rifles at them. To either side of him, both Millie and Moxxie were in the same situation. Continuing to struggle, Blitzo felt a sharp pinch in the side of his neck, his vision became blurry, his mind numb, before darkness consumed him.
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With a frowned expression on his face, Dr Collins stared down at his notes, the report was ridiculous, the whole situation was ridiculous. Blitzo, sitting at the far end of the table from the doctor, didn’t share his frustration bearily displaying any other emotion at all. Rubbing his brow with his finger and his thumb, Dr. Collins clasped his hands together on the table, staring across at the Imp.
“Ignoring the ‘irrelevant’ information you told me, you are from a city of Imps that is located a fair distance away from a demon city. You run a business where you use the book that you ‘acquired’ from this prince Stolas, to fulfill contract killings for dead people who ended up in hell. Hell being an anarchical version of ordinary life. Correct?” Having gone back and forth with the Imp for more than 3 hours, Dr. Collins had bags develop beneath his eyes, after all according to the clock on the wall it was approaching 11pm.
Blitzo scoffed. “Really? You think that the fact that I fuck the prince’s brains out on a weekly basis is ‘irrelevant’.” Leaning back in his chair, he got as comfortable as he could, with his hands bound together and his leg chained to the table. “All you secret agencies are the same.”
“I’m assuming you’re referring to D.H.O.R.K.S. sorry but no, unlike them we are professionals, not just some dumbass enthusiasts with a lot of money. After your last scuffle with them, they needed to be silenced, the foundation’s been following you a lot longer than they have as well.”
“We’re professional!” Blitzo mocked. “Yea whatever you say dipshit, we’ll get out sooner or later.”
“You think your little owl friend can save you? Like I said we’re professionals, we won’t make the same mistakes, after all we’re not here to kill you so your precious little prince has nothing to worry about. After all, wouldn't he already be here if he was?”
“Why you slimy little- don’t you dare think that you know my fuck buddy better than me!” Blitzo went off, yelling at the doctor, even attempting to free himself, tugging and pulling on the solid steel leg irons. Though they held.
“I’ve had enough of this, end the interview.” Collins rose from his seat, the Imp continued jeering in the background as he made his way to the door and stepped outside. Back in the prestien white corridors of site-59, he noticed Phyllis approaching him far down the corridor. “How did the interviews with the other subjects go?”
“They’re not breaking as easily as we expected, 666-2-L completely locked down and refused to talk. 666-1-MO was in a rave about his supposed wife. 666-1-MI was the only one with any sort of competence at all, though the info we got out of her was limited. How did 1-B go?” She asked, the imp could still be heard screaming in the background though it was little more than a blearily audible muffled whining thanks to the soundproofed rooms.
“I pried out what I could, but most of what I got out of him was, well, intricate ways he would copulate with a demon.” Dr. Collins explained hesitantly.
“Sir, I don’t think you could have worded that any more awkwardly.” Phyllis raised an eyebrow, staring down the doctor, who looked about as uncomfortable as he sounded. “What has Dr. Wilcox said about testing procedures?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject.
Dr. Collins proceeded down the hall, she joined him before continuing the conversation. “He has approved the testing plan I put forward, all of which are to be performed over the next week.” He explained, before gaining a curious glint in his eyes. “Say, do you think the foundation would allow me to sleep on site?”
Phyllis glared back at him for a second before responding, just to make sure he was being serious. “Probably not, why would you though?”
“Because…” Collins explained exhaustively. “It’s late and I was going to go home, but I’d have to be back here at 6am, so it wouldn’t really be worth it. You really think they would mind if I took a nap in the night guard bunks?”
“Go ahead and try it out, though it’ll be on your neck if they’re not happy about it.” Continuing down the hall, the pair discussed further. A new wave of optimism rushed through Dr. Collins’s mind, he’d quadrupled his available subjects, increased his standing in the foundation, and had all his experiments approved, all within a couple days.
Not only did he foresee optimism and potential in future, but work and progress that he would finally be able to fulfill without interference.
Notes:
I’m just gonna say it right off the bat, this is my least favorite chapter so far. I’ve re-read it over and over again and can’t quite figure it out. I feel like it lives up to the president I’ve established, but something just feels lacking, Idono.
If after reading you were disappointed by it, then I’m sorry. The next one’s good though, I promise. We’re getting into the exciting stuff now.
Like before, I hope you enjoyed and I thank you for reading, and I’ll gladly take feedback and suggestions or even just nice words are appreciated.(I’ve seriously been amazed at the amount of people reading this, when I posted the first chapter I thought that no one would read it and the whole project would be dead in a week. I seriously can’t overstate how happy I am that people genuinely enjoy reading this.)
Chapter 5: Investigation
Summary:
After the Imps delivered the grimoire into the hands of the foundation, Dr. Collins - under the new supervision of Dr. Wilcox - moves forward with his approved testing. Just as the foundation learns more about Hell, the same appears to be happening the other way around, leading Dr. Collins to pressure further exploration of SCP-666.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 5: Investigation
Experiment log: SCP-666.1
Runic symbol drawn to open a portal to ‘The Ring of Sloth’, Remote controlled ordinance drone, with long range monitoring equipment is sent through. All cameras, signals, and controls to the drone are lost as soon as the drone fully crosses through. Ordinance drone is declared: LOST.
Motion put forward to use D-class test subjects for exploration.
Experiment log: SCP-666.2
Runic symbol drawn to open a portal to ‘The Ring of Sloth’, D209476 is supplied with monitoring equipment, radios, wristwatch, and harness connected to a steel cable tied to a winch mounted to the floor of the experiment chamber. D209476 is ordered that they would be contacted upon stepping through the portal, if contact is lost they are to return to the site of the portal, which is to re-open one hour after entry. D209476 proceeds through the portal, as with experiment SCP-666.1 all monitoring equipment goes dead as soon as D-class fully crosses through. The portal closes after 1 minute, the steel cable went slack as the line was severed, with the edges appearing molten. Contact is attempted to be established with D209476, to be met with static. An identical rune is drawn for D209476’s return and remains open for 1 minute, the D-class never returns. D209476 is declared: TERMINATED.
Experiment log: SCP-666.3
Runic symbol drawn to open a portal to ‘The Ring of Gluttony’, D345312 is supplied with a hand-held camera, radio, and wristwatch. The D-class is instructed to step through the portal, explore and take photographs, before returning to the entry site and return through a second portal an hour after entry. D345312 enters into SCP-666, an hour later an identical rune is drawn and a second portal remains open for 1 minute,Once again contact is attempted and is met with static, the D-class never returns. D345312 is declared: TERMINATED.
Experiment log: SCP-666.4
Runic symbol drawn to open a portal to ‘The Ring of Pride’, D383554 Is supplied with the same equipment and is given the same instructions as in Experiment 666.3. An hour after entry, an identical rune is drawn, approximately 20 seconds after the return portal opens D383554 returns through it, 40 seconds later the portal closes. All equipment is confiscated and D383554 is contained. A full medical diagnosis found that, apart from minor bruising and cuts, D383554 was completely healthy. All returned equipment was still fully operational and the wristwatch was still synchronized. An examination of the camera revealed that only one photo was taken, being of what appeared to be roughly a sixth of a large bright red pentagram surrounded by a more matted rose color. D383554 was questioned two hours after returning, and was found to be uncooperative; remaining silent through most of the interview apart from saying the occasional prayer. When threatened with termination, D383554 laughed at the interrogator and said, “You think you’re the big man in this world, but you're not, What I saw… I know where I’m going.” The interrogator spent several more hours with D383554, but no further information was gathered, the D-class was threatened with termination one final time, it merely repeated “I know where I’m going.” D383554 was TERMINATED. An autopsy of D383554 revealed trace amounts of a microscopic ash-like substance to be present in the subject’s lungs, esophagus, throat, and nostrils, though there appeared to be no lasting damage, otherwise D383554 was completely healthy. Further experimentation revealed that the rate at which ash accumulated within the D-class would only cause lasting damage after ~10 hours of exposure. The ash appears to be most similar to volcanic ash, though it seems to dematerialize from our reality after a period of 24 hours. The running theory being that the ash is a natural part of 666’s atmosphere and is incapable of existing within our reality. Additionally, full medical diagnostics were conducted on all contained 666-1 and -2 instances, none showed any difficulty breathing or other medical ailments due to earth’s atmosphere, meaning the ash is not a necessity for SCP-666 entities.
All further D-class exploration is to be focused on ‘The Ring of Pride’.
Experiment log: SCP-666.5
Runic symbol drawn to open a portal to ‘The Ring of Pride’, D772365 Is supplied with the same equipment and is given the same instructions as in Experiment 666.3 and Experiment 666.4. An hour after entry, an identical rune is drawn, D772365 does not return. D772365 is declared: TERMINATED.
Experiment log: SCP-666.6
ONGOING…
Gradually fading into the bright white void, the orange jumpsuit of a D-class gradually faded out of our world, moving through the portal into the unknown. Dr. Collins looked out through the security glass at the test, a couple seconds after the D-class passed through the portal fizzled out. D-class being little more than death-row criminals before the foundation picked them up, they were the first in line to go against anomalies in the testining chambers including everything from oversized lizards to going through a portal into hell. The room was left identical to how it was before, with no trace of the rune they had drawn to create the portal to begin with. Phyllis stood to his left, an older darker man stood to his right, with the test's unpredictable nature there was little any of them could do beside hope.
Over the last week they learned from the Grimoire how to open portals into SCP-666 and had sent half-a-dozen D-class subjects into SCP-666, so far only one had returned.
“Fascinating…” Dr. Wilcox muttered, eyes firmly locked on what had just occurred before him. “Where did you say you sent them again?”
“The pride ring sir.” Collins replied.
“Pride ring?” Wilcox muttered, his face contorting to confusion. “Now I have read Dante’s Inferno, Dr. Collins, and I recall nothing about a supposed pride ring.”
“According to the grimoire there are seven circles of hell, but don’t quite match our perception of them, instead matching the deadly sins. The pride ring is the only one we’ve seen any returnees from.” Collins looked up at Dr. Wilcox with a frown, quite vividly recalling that he’d sent a digital copy to Dr. Wilcox, even sending Phyliss with a full physical copy to be dropped off at his office. By some miracle the physical and digital copies could have both simply not reached him, or… “Sir, I sent you a full report on the entity a couple days ago.”
“I’m terribly sorry Dr. Collins, but after my interviews with the 666 instances I’ve been terribly busy. I’ll read it in good time, I promise,” Wilcox explained, “An you must realize that I have other anomalies to attend to as well.”
“Regardless, doctor, we should still send an MTF expedition, it’s quite likely that most of the D-classes aren’t returning because we can’t force them to.” He pleaded, it was something he’d brought up as soon as they figured out how to draw the runes. Collins asked the day after, and after that, and now he was asking again. “Any monitoring equipment we sent with them immediately loses signal, even just a harness and tether get cut off as the portal closes.”
“Listen Collins,” Wilcox started, strongly frowning his brow as if he was tired of having his ears chewed off about it, “I simply can’t approve you taking a squad of men in there without any clear objective, we know so little about this place.” Wilcox explained, to a strongly frowning Collins. “You’d get any men you send in there killed.”
“Of course sir. What about my request to interview 343 about the existence of 666?” Collins asked.
“Don’t worry Collins, your memo has been forwarded and is under review by the director of site-17.” Wilcox assured, “But you know that ‘He’ is only gonna tell you things if he wants to.”
“Last I heard, he was mouthful.” Collins glanced back at the empty chamber for a moment, before shifting toward the exit, “Anyway, it should still be another hour before the D-class returns, if you don’t mind I have some things to organize.” Collins excused himself, leaving the room, his shoulders sagging sharply before the door shut again behind him.
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With a swift metallic slam, Collins slid shut the drawer on one of dozens of filing cabinets lining his wall. He had pulled the various interview logs from the SCP-666-1 and -2 instances. Though the foundation wished to remain cautious with SCP-666, Dr. Collins knew that no serious progress could be made if greater risks were not taken. If he could just find enough info about this other world to satisfy Wilcox, maybe he’d give his approval.
Granted Wilcox moved quickly when it came to D-class testing with SCP-666, however many of his other requests have become stuck in the gears of bureaucracy: Question SCP-343 about the existence of SCP-666: Under Review, Test reaction of SCP-131 to SCP-666: Under Review, Introduce SCP-343 to SCP-666: Under Review, Test SCP-049’s ‘Touch’ and ‘Pestilence’ on SCP-666: Under Review , and the list goes on and on. At least none had been outright denied – yet. In the meantime Collins had the D-class exploration test to focus on, which haven’t fared much better.
Suddenly jumping up in his seat, Collins was startled by a short series of sharp knocks echoing from behind him. He spun around in his chair to face the door, there stood, leaning against the doorframe, an MTF member, carrying relatively little gear. Just plain black fatigues with the Nu-7 logo on the shoulder alongside the three gold and black chevrons of a Sergeant.
“You have a habit of leaving your door open when you’re working, doc?” The sergeant asked, one eyebrow raised, as he stood with his arms crossed.
“No, not usually,I was in a hurry.” Collins replied, he recognized the man but failed to create a comprehensive picture of him in his head. “Apologies Sergeant… um,” Collins moved his hand in front of him, moving his fingers around as if he was trying to physically pull memories out of thin air. “We’ve worked together before but it has slipped my mind.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it, not the first time you science types forget about us grunts doing the heavy lifting.” Though the Sargeant’s expression remained neutral, Collins couldn’t help but feel a slight pit in his stomach, it was true after all. “Butler, Dr. Collins.” The fact he knew Collins name only made the pit in his stomach feel worse.
“Shouldn’t your group be back at area-14?” Collins asked, turning back toward the documents scattered across his desk. Impatiently sifting through them, thumbing through one folder before tossing it aside and moving on to the next.
“That’s the funny thing isn’t it?” Butler asked, hopping off the wall marching up behind Collins, who was too busy sifting through his reports to even care to notice. The Sergeant turned on his heels as he leaned against the steel filing cabinet Collins had closed just minutes prior. “Apparently were now considered to be ‘experienced combatants’ when it comes to SCP-666, Mjolnir-3 has officially been ordered to remain at Site-59 as a rapid response team to counter SCP-666.” Dr. Collins finally looked up at the Sergeant, who was already looking down at him. “By Dr. Wilcox’s decree.”
“Well then, Sgt. Butler, it seems we’ll be working together much more in future”
“It seems.” Butler mentioned, turning his head away as he stared straight out the door he’d just come in through. “Heads up doc, you got company.”
Swiveling around on his chair, Collins was quickly met with a rapid series of heavy footfalls and labored panting. “Dr. Collins!” Phyllis called, bracing herself against the doorframe as she caught her breath, her face flushed with red. “You’re gonna wanna see this,” she waved a hand through the air, beckoning the Doctor and Sergeant to follow, as she spun on her heels and ran right back out the door and down the hall before either Collins or Butler could say anything.
Having long lost their chance to ask questions, Collins and Butler did little more than blankly stare out the door, before quickly standing from their seated positions and chasing after her.
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Collins reentered the testing chamber he’d left only half an hour prior, in those short moments it had turned to squalid chaos and disorder. A dozen security personnel in white fatigues, wearing black bulletproof vests and combat helmets with orange visors, all brandishing submachine guns. Half of them were crowded in the corner surrounding the orange jumpsuited D-class, who sat in a cradled position rocking back and forth. Meanwhile the bright red emergency alarm, that was usually only used during containment breaches, obnoxiously flickering in epeleptic flashes intermittently coating the room in red. It was a normal day at the office, except that earlier Collins was behind the safety of five inch bullet-proof glass in the observation room, now he was in the chamber itself.
Collins marched past Phyllis, who merely stood beside the reinforced doorway, either being too fearful to approach the situation herself, or merely following the appropriate chain of command; she was too low rank to be in the chamber to begin with. Continuing forth, Collins marched up to the corner where the D-class was restrained. One of the more slender and shorter security guards took one large step towards him, holding a bourbon red letter in one hand, firmly clutched to her side. The guard spoke in a pitched feminine tone; “Listen Doc, I need ID before-”
“I know, I know, protocol. Here,” Collins tugged on the cardholder attached to his belt, hidden behind his lab-coat. Elastic stretching out as he held it up in front of the opaque orange visor of the guard. Giving an approving nod, the guard briefly leaned in closer as she inspected every word on it; yet she briefly tilted her head to look over Collins shoulder. Having given in to their own curiosity, both Sgt. Butler and Phyllis had followed Collins further inside; “They’re with me,” Collins mentioned, being met with no response from the guard. Collins let go of his ID as it quickly retracted back, coming to rest back on his belt just behind the edge of his lab-coat.
“You’ll also probably want this Doc. Brought this back with him, wasn’t part of the kit he was assigned to take,” though the D-classes were little more than human lab-rats they were still given equipment to use whenever they were sent into unknown and potentially hostile locations; small things usually, like basic hiking equipment, or self defense weapons.
“Right. Thank you,” Collins mentioned, as he reached out and took the letter. “I assume you’ve already disarmed him from anything potentially dangerous?” Collins questioned, nodding his head toward the D-class, who was well and truly surrounded and detained by the remaining guards.
“First thing we did.”
“Of course. He said anything?” Collins asked, again referring to the D-class. Since moving closer the quiet, whispered, muttering of the D-class became just barely audible.
“Pff, he won’t stop saying things. Nothing legible though, just a bunch of nonsense.”
“Of course not, can’t ever make anything any easier. Alright, you’re dismissed; though could you do me a favor and-” Collins turned at his waist to stare back toward the observation room. “-get someone to turn the damn light off!” Collins glared at the room though couldn’t see anyone in particular due to the dark lighting. By the time he’d turned back around, the guard groaned as she dragged herself out of the test chamber.
“So…” Phyllis stated, pressing on with the task at hand. “What did the D-class recover?”
Colins held the letter up between his index and middle finger as he hovered it above his shoulder. “This,” he stated plainly.
“So you gonna open it doc?” Butler barked in, slightly startling Collins as he’d almost forgotten that the Sergeant was there.
Collins grabbed the envelope by its corner, preparing to tear the top off, before briefly making contact with D-class who’d returned. Still rocking on the floor, back and forth, back and forth, firmly pressing his hands against his head as if trying to reinforce it, keeping it from exploding. Crazed bloodshot red eyes of a thousand yard stare, paying no mind to anything, being too shocked or stressed to even acknowledge his surroundings. Collins took his hand off the letter as he just held it. “Maybe… we should get a D-class to open it.”
“Oh come on!” Butler groaned, “you can’t just build it up like that and just not do it. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? It’s a fucking piece of paper.”
Collins glared back at him sternly; “there are SCP’s that are just pieces of paper that have a higher kill count than your entire squad!” Collins began to raise his tone as he became more fired up, “so excuse me Sergeant if I want to take some-” a firm tug on the envelope snatched it from his hand. Collins spun around with the speed of a tornado, only to just be too late, as he could do little more than gawk as he saw Phyllis quickly tear the top off of the envelope.
Plying open the letter, Phyllis pulled a folded, off-white slightly yellowed, piece of paper out of the envelope and unfolded it to reveal nothing more than simple black ink and writing on the other side. Briefly looking back at the other two, she was met with jaw-dropping stares from both Dr. Collins and Sgt. Butler.
For a moment the room delved into darkness as the blaring alarm and all other lights shut down. A second later and the bright white fluorescent lights that littered the ceiling soon lit back up, cascading the usual bright white and steril glow across the chamber. Bringing the full scope of Butler and Collins’s expressions into view as they still stared at Phyllis wide shock-stricken eyes and slightly ajar mouths.
“What?” She asked, “it’s just a letter.” Holding the piece of paper out to Dr. Collins.
Collins recomposed himself, before taking hold of the letter as she let go of it; “I’m not even going to go into the amount of infractions you just committed, but nothing happened, so here we go.” Collins quickly stated, before intently turning his attention to the letter.
‘They send people from another world
To find vague truths that don’t comprehend
What they know. They’ll spread word,
Purge, torture, mame, and apprehend.
Yet be disappointed by the man in the suit
They will find. Yet with patience and life,
While returning back to what was once their root,
The consumption of corruption and internal Strife
The given life that constructed the plans
For what is to come and shake foundations
Within the old cities now turned to sands.
There will be those who provide explanations
Yet they will Subdue
Those that try to tell.
And without further adieu,
Welcome to hell.
Please make yourself comfortable
1353 Hell-Fire Avenue,
ask for a Charlotte Morningstar.’
Collins’s eyes scanned over every letter of the note, raising a hand to his chin while a smile slowly crept across his face. “Dr. Wilcox?” Collins turned on his heels, facing toward the observation room as he held the letter high above his head; “I've got your objective!” He yelled, clutching the letter tight as he emanated a vibrant energy. “Phyllis come with me, Sergeant, round up some of your boys that are willing to walk into hell.” He ordered joyously, prancing back toward the door.
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Wrapping the silvery adhesive around his fore-arms, Collins sealed the edges of his suit with duct-tape. They weren’t the air tight research suits the foundation used inside the biological and chemical containment and experimentation labs. Rather lead-lined orange rubber suits paired with gas masks that were used for nuclear cleanup. They weren’t as protective but far more mobile since they didn’t need to carry around an O-2 tank. Collins had argued against using the suits at all, none of the returnees showed signs of airborne pathogens. However he was overruled after trace amounts of microscopic ash was found in the returnees lungs, additionally the foundation wished to air on the side of caution due to the sheer amount of unknowns.
A short distance to Collins’s left, perhaps five or so meters away, was Phyllis, sitting on one of the benches within the center of the ready-room surrounded by lockers on either side. She was applying the same silvery duct-tape to her ankles as she sealed the black rubber boots to her own orange hazard suit. Her actions were sluggish, almost reluctant as she placed the role of tape beside her and stared aimlessly forward for a moment.
“You alright Phyllis?” Collins asked, pressing down firmly on the tape sealing the black rubber chemical gloves to the rest of the suit. “Hope I didn’t rob you of any of your energy.”
“Are we sure we’re doing the right thing?” She asked bluntly, gazing back at Collins. “Should we really be messing around with something like this?”
Collins didn’t skip a beat, as he reached down and grabbed the mask for his suit and began adjusting the straps. “Well of course it’s going to be dangerous, that’s why we’re taking a full squad of some of the most capable soldiers on earth.”
“I’ve accepted that it’s going to be dangerous,” she retorted, “I just don’t know if it will really be for the best. Is it really our place to control these things? It’s one thing if it’s just monsters, but this is hell itself, should we really be meddling with something this extreme?”
Collins was stuck in place, he wanted to just call off her concern and continue, but part of him felt uncomfortably worried. Was she still operationally sound? Or had she gone overboard? Become just another one of the failed researchers who overthought their actions and ultimately goes AWOL. He wondered what had happened to the woman he’d spoken to just hours prior, the one who eagerly spent every waking hour on research, who dutifully alerted the whole site to a containment breach, the one who carelessly threw aside foundation guidelines when handling materials related to contained entities.
“Phyllis, listen,” Collins started, “I don’t know why you’re having the sudden change in attitude,but I know that you’ve dedicated yourself to this project as much as I have. I’m not going to force you to come along. If you feel you can handle it, and if you want to, then feel free to tag along. If you’re feeling burned-out, stay here, take a day off, go home, if anyone questions it just tell them I approved it.” Collins glanced over his shoulder at the clock hanging just above the door frame, it read: 5:24pm. “We’re scheduled to leave in half-an-hour. We’ll be back by nine.” Collins waited just long enough for Phyllis to look up at him, she had a slight smile though her face was overcome with insecurity, before turning fully and walking out of the room.
His suit squeaked somewhat as he walked, different parts of rubber rubbed against one another. Passing through the door of the room, Collins returned to the sterile white halls of site-59, only to be met with Dr. Wilcox standing directly out the door. “Doctor,” Collins greeted, marching straight past Wilcox. Apparently catching the other Doctor off guard as he didn’t immediately follow after Collins, instead catching up to him a second later.
“Collins, about your little excursion, I think that-”
“It’s a great idea? Thanks, I agree.”
“What? No, Collins, I think we should hold off.” Wilcox protested, causing Collins to stop dead in his tracks. “Not call it off, Just delay it for a few months.”
“Why? We have everything ready, why would we delay any longer?”
“We haven’t received any direct O-5 approval, anything goes wrong and it’ll be our heads.”
Collins pulled back on the straps of his gas mask, rearing it over his head as the elastic straps clutched around the back of his head, pulling the mask into place. A small queak announced the retreat of the remaining air as the mask made a full seal. Collins' breaths became audible in the form of slow low pitched hisses as the mask moved slightly forward and backward with each breath. “Then we make sure nothing goes wrong,” Collins stated bluntly, as he pulled up the hazard suit’s hood, pulling on the cords as it tightened around his head and fully sealed him from the outside world.
“Listen to yourself Collins,” Dr. Wilcox demanded, “you’re being horribly reckless.”
“Doctor, you know as well as I, that this might be the only chance we get at this. We have your objective but we don’t know for how long we’ll have it, if we wait too long we could lose this forever. Just think of everything that could happen between now and when the O-5’s approve, after all we’re only a highly secretive organization, housing the world's most dangerous creatures, that sees ocult and terror attacks every other day.” Collins turned on his heels, strutting back down the white corridors toward the test chamber. “Blame it on me if it makes you feel better, I’m already on thin ice with the O-5’s as is.”
“Collins!” Wilcox called, a harsh command channeled through his voice, achieving its desired effect as Collins stopped and turned back around. “Despite the fact that I feel like you’re jumping the gun, you have my approval. Just make sure you come back with everyone you take with you.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time the Foundation sacrificed a handful of MTFs to achieve some greater good,” Collins scoffed, snapping with a slight bark in his voice, “Sorry,” Collins admitted, lowering his tone back down toward some sense of calmness, ease, and rationality. “I’ll do my best, but you know I can’t make any promises.” Wilcox nodded his head slightly, waving Collins off, allowing him to proceed back down the corridor, only following after him a second later.
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The same chaotic test chamber, from hours before, had received a complete makeover. All security personnel were gone, the bare concrete floor was still a darkened damp color from being recently cleaned, and a fully outfitted MTF squad was loosely assembled.
“Doctor,” one of the soldiers stated, clad in a dark grey rubber hazard suit, a similar model to Collins’s but slightly older. All the usual vests, pouches and straps were worn overtop the hazard suit. A patch of three black and o-d green chevrons was stitched on the front of the plate carrier alongside a Union-Jack , the only notable hint that gave Collins any clue of who it was. Additionally the soldier wore a black Kevlar helmet, NODs folded up on front with a wire connecting them to a battery mounted on the back; all that overtop of a gas mask with two large tinted lenses for either eye and a Matt grey cylindrical filter handing off the side. A rifle loosely hung from a sling tied around Butler’s neck as it dangled in front of him. A clipboard, with various files attached, was tucked firmly beneath his arm.
“Sergeant,” Collins greeted, for just a split second they stood silently, not long enough to become awkward, just long enough to notice; “Butler,” Collins finally stated after the hesitation.
“Ah, look at that, it remembers!” Butler commented, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear but quite enough to remain at a level below shouting. A handful of the other MTF members gave off muffled laughs, all being clad in the same equipment as their Sergeant. Collins’s embarrassment was now well known, at least amongst those he was supposed to be leading. “This was also for you,” Butler held out the clipboard, letting Collins take it.
Collins quickly thumbed through the pages SCP records, interview logs, and blank report sheets, just about everything he’d need for first contact and preliminary tests: “Thank you, Sergeant,” Collins secured the board beneath his own arm. He briefly turned his head to look behind him, toward the door. Just hoping to catch the slightest glimpse of Phyllis entering the chamber, however the reinforced armored steel door remained still, showing no sign of even having the desire to open. Collins steeled himself; “Sergeant, we start in five,” Collins reached up to a small button taped to his collar, a wire led up from it to a microphone mounted inside his mask at the other end of it was a radio — clipped to the back of his belt. “We’re ready to begin,” he said into the small microphone.
Butler moved forward, calling out call signs, moving his men into formation. Squeaking metallically, the large armored door creaked open just enough to let a man through. A taller man, dressed in the same orange hazard suit Collins was wearing, creeped through the small crack in the door, escorted by two black-and-white security guards. In Front of the hazard-suited man he held a thick navy blue book with gold embroidery and pages, the Grimoir . The guards escorted the researcher to the center of the room. Getting on his hands and knees, the researcher opened the book, using a piece of white chalk he began to draw a circular runic symbol on the concrete floor.
Corporal Ward, stood to the right-back side of the formation, she held an M10 semi-automatic shotgun in her hands. Her uniform was identical to everyone else’s apart from the Star-Spangled-Banner alongside a patch with 2 black and OD-green chevrons, identifying her as a Corporal, along with two parallel rows of of elastic running go down the front of her plate carrier, red plastic shotgun-shells threaded between and held in place. All in accordance with her recent change in roll to close quarters support, in addition to being second in command. Infront of her was Alphonse — who everyone just called Françoi — wearing his signature green armband marked with a white cross, a French flag patch pinned to the side of his helmet. He carried a smaller PDW, compared to the rest of the group’s assault rifles.
Directly beside her however was the one man in the squad who refused to carry a weapon. A deep purple band bound around his arm. As the researchers continued to draw the rune, the man brought a hand to his chest before raising it to his head and crossing it at either shoulder. “Father-“ Ward asked in a hushed tone, “you sure you’re willing to come with us on this?”
“Are you more concerned that I will be harmed or that I will be a burden?” Pastor Arno asked, gently leaning his head slightly over rather than turn to Ward directly; his South-African accent being muffled by all the equipment. “We all took the same training, Corporal. Though I may not take lives I know how to maintain my own.”
Françoi turned his head enough to look back at Ward and the pastor, “He also won’t save them,” he grumbled.
One final touch from the book and chalk rune lit up, erupting in a bright white-violet portal that almost seemed to hover on the floor. The researcher stood, followed by his escorts, as they quickly sped back through the armored door. Shutting behind them, a hefty clang indicated it was locked.Collins felt a short buzz, lasting a second total, emanating from the microphone inside his mask. A signal for sure, Collins knew it came from Dr. Wilcox, and he knew it meant go or begin or start or something like that.
Shakily stepping forward with a combined anxiety and excitement, Collins continued forward until he was standing at the edge of the white abyss. Putting his weight on his heels, he crouched down closer to the portal. Reaching his hand down, Collins cautiously held out his index and middle finger, dipping them down into the portal. Despite the visually liquid texture it felt more like it was passing through thin air. Despite being a portal to hell, it felt almost ice cold. Collins moved his hand around in a circle, like a child drawing in sand. Lifting his hand again, his fingers were perfectly dry and appeared unchanged on a surface level. Standing back up, Collins stuck his foot out slightly forward, as he leaned forward into the portal.
Notes:
After the disappointment that was the previous chapter, I can confidently say that this is a good one. I'm very happy with how it turned out and I think all of you will enjoy it.
The next chapter also looks promising and I can’t wait to share it.
Anyways, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and I’ll gladly take any feedback you have to give.
Chapter 6: Feet First Into Hell
Summary:
Dr. Collins leads MTF Mjolnir-3 into SCP-666, chasing the mysterious lead that invited him.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 6: Feet First Into Hell
Dr. Collins felt his body lurch and tumble, losing any support as his feet felt like they were floating. The brief moment of weightlessness was quickly interrupted by wind whooshing past him as his body began to gain velocity. Collins’s eyes darted around, staring through the lenses of his gasmask at anything in the vicinity, a mad rush to figure out what the hell was happening . His eyes picked up nothing remarkable, apart from the color red, before a sudden thud followed by a sharp pain in his shoulder halted him.
Collins groaned as he gathered his hands to lift himself up, the ground felt hard and cold like stone while his fingers glided over the crevasse of individual cobbles. Collins pressed his arms beneath himself, trying to prop himself up and get back to his feet. His actions were quickly rewarded by a thudding pain in his back, a harsh grunt, and his arms giving out, with his body slamming back against the cobblestone.
Butler hardly had the time to gather his bearings, on where he’d just landed or what he’d just landed on, due to the sight of another black-clad MTF member plumitted toward him. Thinking on his feet, even though he was laying on his back , Butler quickly rolled to the side, colliding with the floor as he narrowly missed the plummeting soldier. Before he’d even had the chance to begin to get to his feet, Butler had already watched as another soldier plumited, grunted, and collided atop the pile.
It could be that the researcher had misdrawn the portal, or maybe it was just random chance, but the other side of the portal had spawned some ten-to-twelve feet off the ground. It hovered in the air without any sort of support or surface to appear on. While it hovered harmlessly, each member of the squad gradually fell through and atop the ever growing pile. Did some of the D-classes not come back because the portal was too high up?
By the time that Butler had fully gotten to his feet eight of the nine MTF members had fallen through, most of whom contributed to the pile. A couple, namely Pastor Arno and Spc. Adela, were able to doge in time and roll out of the way – the latter being surprising, as Specialist Adela was carrying most ammunition in the group along with the heavy M249. Waiting just a second longer, the last MTF member — Cpl. Ward — finally emerged from the portal. Falling no more than five or six feet as she landed atop the pile of soldiers. “Comfortable Corporal?”
“Very, Sarge,” she responded, sitting herself up before sliding off and onto her feet.
“Alright, c’mon, help me get everyone sorted out and back in formation,” Butler moved past Françoi, who’d crawled off the pile himself, as he began to pull his men to their feet, with Ward and Adela following suit.
Collins was stuck, stuck beneath the mass of MTF members, an ounce of hope came to him as the weight gradually began to lighten.
Collins heard a feminine voice jeer, “Hah, look who took the brunt of all you fat-asses!” Followed suit by a short wave of laughter from the other soldiers. Collins felt two sets of hands grab him beneath his arms, as they heaved him off the ground almost effortlessly. One being the three chevroned Butler and the other bearing a Polish flag patch pinned to one side of her plate-carrier, and a large bowie knife tucked firmly behind her pouches.
“Next time, I’m going last.” Collins said as they hefted him to his feet. With his feet firmly planted on the ground the doctor instantly froze, the visor of his mask blankly gazing forward.
Flanking either side of the street, were several long abandoned, smashed, and looted, alongside a series of what appeared to be apartment complexes. Standing out to Collins in particular, was a barbershop, old-fashioned in its style, a simple wooden sign advertised the location's presence though it hung at a canted angle; alongside it was one of those stereotypical red, white, and blue striped poles, though had been split in half as the upper half was missing. Farther down from the cobbled stone road that the expedition team stood on, there were grand skyscrapers covering the skyline as far as the eye could see. Hundreds of concrete behemoths with tens of thousands of lit up windows lining their walls. The buildings directly surrounding them were a mix of concrete and brick, all much smaller than the looming concrete jungle in the distance — the highest being perhaps ten stories at most. The route before them was empty, deserted, was it always like this or just because they were here? Far in the distance the mild hustle and bustle of a small city could be seen, perhaps hundreds of figures compared to the likely millions they’d find further in the city's heart. Above it all, the looming omniscience of a rose red sky, in the middle of it a blood red star made up of five lines surrounded by a circle, just like the D-class’s photo; it didn’t appear to be a mass of any sort rather just being part of the atmosphere. Thousands of white specs, presumably stars, littered the sky along with a small glowing planet, with a halo above it, orbiting far away. Opposing another moon with a bright red pentagram displayed upon it.
“My god-“ Collins blearily managed to pull himself out of his frozen state of awe just to say those words.
“Doctor,” Cpl. Ward called, holding a clipboard out toward Collins.
Collins however was far too absorbed in the world he’d found himself in to even acknowledge that he was being spoken to. “This place-“ Collins mumbled, “it’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“Doctor!”
“Huh?” Collins suddenly snapped to Ward and Butler curiously standing before him, gazing into his eyes. “What?” Ward shoved the clipboard into his chest, “oh, yes, thank you.”
Butler waited for a moment, but Collins seemed to almost return to his catatonic state. “Doctor, Shouldn’t we get a move on and actually complete our objective?”
“Oh, um, yes, of course, let’s proceed,” Collins resumed some sense of professionalism as he pulled himself away from the distant sight.
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Not again , as much as Charlie tried to create conditions and make agreements, there were always arguments. It’s suspects, as per usual, Vaggie and Angel. On any normal day she would be busy negotiating some sort of truce between them; but today something felt off. Charlie resigned herself to staring out the nearby window, at the cityscape in the distance, rather than interveign. A few more minutes passed and, faster than usual, the yelling and shouting died down as one pair of footsteps faded away in the distance and another pair creps closer.
“Why does he have to be so difficult all the time?” Vaggie asked with a grumble, leveling her head beside Charlie, as she joined her. They waited in silence for a minute, before Vaggie gave a brief concerned glance toward Charlie. “Are you ok hun?” Charlie’s face appearing emotionally flat and unusually dauer.
“What? Oh… yea, I’m fine,” she responded, taking a second to snap back to reality.
“Hun, I’m being serious, are you sure that everything Is alright?” Vaggie asked again, more sternly.
“Well, I don’t know.” Charlie glanced back out the window, a feeling deep down in her gut pulling her, as if it was tied up in a knot and being sloshed around. “You know that feeling I get during the extermination? That’s what I’m getting now.”
Vaggie put her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder, “how could that be though? The extermination is still months away.”
“I know, there is just something that doesn’t feel right, like something big is going to happen soon,” she confided.
“C’mon hun, it’s probably nothing, just a bad feeling’s all.”
“I hope so.”
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“Christ, are you two done yet?” Ward asked, standing a couple feet back impatiently tapping the guard of her shotgun with her fingers. The rest of the squad lazily hung around as they continued to wait.
“Maybe the good doctor’s just wasting time, you know sitting around and waiting for the portal to open and go back without doing anything.” Adela commented, she sat squatted against a nearby stone wall, her light machine gun resting on her legs.
“Nah, you haven’t seen doc yet, e’s got a fettish for this stuff,” she replied, to be met with a slight chuckle from the specialist.
“Engh,” Adela shrugged, “less work is less work.”
Collins, Butler, and another Private named Devis, who also had the Union-Jack pinned to his helmet, were tightly gathered around a series of devices, all ticking, twitching, and calculating. Though the various machine dials largely remained static, as their whirres and hums gradually ceased. Butler and the Private turned to Collins, both waiting for some grand revelation to come from his lips. Collins stood with a hefty sigh, before scribbling a couple notes on his clipboard.
“Welp, no airborne pathogens, all recordings match those the foundation already has on file.” Collins stated objectively, “full CBRN gear was hardly unnecessary, but I suppose that microscopic ash remains a problem.”
“So we,ve been sitting here for ten minutes just to reconfirm what we already know!” Ward yelled from behind them.
“So I carried all this shit with me for nothing?” Devis asked, gesturing his hands out toward the now silent equipment.
“No no, not for nothing,” Collins reassured, “redundancies, the foundation loves redundancies; makes sure we catch the slightest details of change. Besides we didn’t remeasure everything, the temperature and humidity gauges-” he pointed to a pair of dails with large cracks through their glass, “are busted, but-” Collins paused for a moment, “it feels warm.” Without skipping a beat, Collins completely dropped the subject and began to march forward. “They’d get mad at me if I didn’t do the tests. We’ve wasted enough time, c’mon gentlemen, we’ve got an underworld to explore.”
“That’s why you don’t volunteer to carry equipment, kid.” Butler stated, giving Devis a brief pat on the shoulder, before running off after Collins.
“Now you know what the stuff I carry feels like, choux fleur.” Françoi mentioned, a mass of medical equipment strapped to his back, as he wandered past the young Private.
Adela jumped to her feet. “Oh well break time’s over.”
“Finally,” Ward added, the two of them hailing the rest of the squad, rallying them to follow the doctor. The remaining half-a-dozen soldiers quickly filed out after them.
Butler sprinted forward, past Collins, running to the side of another MTF member, who was overlooking the road. “What do you have for me?”
Lowering his binoculars the soldier spoke, “doc’s gonna have a field day,” he handed them over to the Sergeant, “our job’s about to get a lot harder.”
Butler lifted the binoculars to his eyes, bringing the distant cityscape a whole lot closer, as butler audibly gasped. A vast ocean became clear before, an ocean far too vast and dangerous to travers, an ocean of monsters. Some small, some ginormous, some clearly dangerous, others more disguised, and there were tens of thousands of them.
With haste, Butler passed the binoculars back to the soldier, waving his hand over his shoulder to follow him, as he jogged back to the doctor. “Doc, we’re gonna have to rethink our options.”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now Sergeant,” Collins didn’t slow his pace in the slightest, marching down the road, the rest of the squad behind him.
Butler held his arm out in front of the doctor, forcing him to stop. “There are thousands of ‘em down there doc.”
“And?”
“I have a responsibility to my squad, I’m not getting them killed by dragging them through a sea of monsters just to get to some random address.”
“That’s if they’re hostile, Sergeant. Remember, we’re here to learn from our contact, not shoot up the place.” Collins re-explained, however Butler just stared him down through the cold lenses of the gas-mask. “Fine, then we’ll take back routes.” Collins relented, barging past Butler, pushing his arm out of the way.
“We still have no idea where we’re going!” Butler insisted, chasing after Collins who just kept walking.
“Then we kidnap the first one we see and force him to guide us,” Collins stated bluntly, rapidly proceeding down the road.
“You have to admit,” Ward stated as she marched up to the Sergeant, “he is determined.” Butler gave her a slight glare, though they soon both followed after the doctor once more.
Their travels consisted of little more than aimless wandering down the mostly empty streets. Passing by copy-paste buildings that were all in various states of disrepair. However the team soon discovered its first subject; the crumpled figure of a small giant, with hands the size of an ordinary human torso, disproportionately large to the rest of its figure, lay propped against the wall of a building, bits of glass and bottles scattered around its feet.
The group came to a halt just across the street from the figure, “Three dash two, three dash four keep your eyes on that one,” Butler ordered, Ward and Françoi stepped forward. “Dash seven and eight, eyes down the road,” two other MTF soldiers moved a couple feet down the road.
Collins was busy scribbling notes down on his clipboard all the while he continually glanced up at the crumpled figure sitting in the street. “How curious,” he murmured.
“And?” Butler asked impatiently, “Is this drunk suitable to be your guide, Doctor?”
“It’s strange, the 666-1 instances had a very structured biology, with some minor variation, but this is wildly different from anything we’ve seen relating SCP-666 thus far.” Butler stared blankly at the doctor, he didn’t care . “As much as its sobriety is questionable, it’s worth a shot.”
“Dash three, dash five, go help our little friend out.” Adela and Devis stepped forward, trailing their rifles on the being as they approached it.
“Great, we get to be murdered by Demons first,” Devis complained.
“Hey maybe you’ll get in the headlines,” Adela commented, “just picture it: first confirmed human death by Demons, you’d make history.”
“It’s not exactly the kind of history I want to be making.”
They continued to approach the figure, coming closer, and closer, the stench of alcohol became ever clearer, even through their masks’ extensive filters. Regardless of how close they came, the figure didn’t move a muscle. Even as they pointed their weapons meere inches from the creature, it still showed no sign of life.
Devis leaned forward, poking the creature in its shoulder with the muzzle of his rifle; rapidly the two soldiers scurried back as the creature groaned, swatting upward as if fending off a fly, before settling back down again. They waited a second, no other response came from the figure. Both soldiers approached once again, Devis jabbed his rifle into the creature’s shoulder again, with double the force.
With a wide armed swath, the creature’s arm swiped Devis off his feet slamming him face-first into the wall next to him, keeping the pressure up pinning him there. Adela, remembering their objective, delivered a swift strike with the stock of her machine-gun against its face, before harshly pressing the muzzle into the side of its head. A pair of red streaks poured from the creature’s nose, as its eyes opened wide, heavily dilated and bloodshot. Beyond Adela’s vision, the creature wrapped its other hand around her ankle. Pulling her forward, Adala tumbled to the ground before she managed to get a shot off. She dropped her machine-gun, it became impossibly heavy as the creature dragged her off the floor and dangled her from her ankle, her gun laying below her on the floor.
“Ty pierdolony sukinsynu! Puść mnie cipo!” Adela yelled at the top of her lungs, struggling to free herself, as the creature clambered to its feet.
“Aww, screaming already little-lady? But the fun hasn’t even started yet.” It stated crudely, keeping firm pressure against Devis, keeping firmly pinned against the brick wall.
“Seven, eight: keep the road locked down, everyone else on me.” Butler ordered as he and the other MTF members rapidly formed a crescent firing-line in the direction of the creature.
“Oh, we have visitors,” the creature stated, holding Adela out in front of it, directly in the line of fire of the other soldiers, “c’mon shoot through your little friend here!”
“Wbij kulę w tego pieprzonego pedała!”
“Hold fire!” Butler ordered.
“Why don’t you shoot him?” Collins asked from behind him.
“There’s too high of a risk shooting dash three.” The Sergeant stated bluntly.
“Hey, docteur,” Françoi called, “you have any medical training?”
“Basic first-aid,” Collins replied, “why?”
“There’s only so much I can do by myself, and it looks like we may need it.” Françoi explained.
“Pierdolić!” Adela yelled flatly, she kept hitting and pushing the large hands, but didn’t so much as twitch at her efforts; then an idea popped into her head. Reaching to behind her pouches, she grabbed the large Bowie knife with both hands. Rapidly drawing it, she reached as high up as she could before plunging the knife into the creature’s hand, pulling down as hard as she could as she could feel muscles sever and tenants tear.
With a yelped roar, the creature initially tightened its grasp, before the pain became too much, relaxing its grip on both soldiers, as it instinctively went to cover the wound with the other hand. Devis stumbled back, as the creature released him from the wall, tripping over himself and collapsing to the ground. Adela landed face-first on the concrete floor, quickly bracing her hands over her head as she knew exactly what was going to happen next.
“Fire!” Butler ordered, less than a second later the thundered roar of gunfire ripped through the silence, as the bright glaring muzzle flashed illuminated the street in a flickering orange glow. One round after the other carved their way through the creature. For a full 10 seconds the MTF members kept their fire up on the creature, before they finally let it collapse to the ground. A puddle of blood quickly pooling out of it. The roar of gunfire died down.
“Docteur, deux, avec moi." Françoi ordered, rushing toward the injured soldiers, letting his gun dangle from a sling as he already began digging through pouches for medical equipment.
Ward rushed toward Adela, while the doctor followed the medic to Devis.
Before Ward even reached her, Adela was already on her feet, cursing up a storm. “Skurwiel! Właśnie to masz, debilu! Cipa skurwysynu!” She yelled, walking up to the creature, swiping up her gun along the way. Adela stopped in front of the creature, leveling her M249 as she put a short burst through its skull, small splatters of blood spitting back up at her, “Kurwa.”
“You alright dash three?” Ward asked, watching the ordeal go down.
“Tak, yes, I’m fine.” She responded in a low tone, having finally calmed down.
Just a couple meters away they could see Collins and Françoi tending to Devis, who could hardly be any more injured than Adela, as they’d already gotten him back up on his feet.
“Well, I guess you just made history as the first human to have gotten a confirmed kill on a Demon.” Ward stated.
“Now that’s the kinda history we should be making.” Adela stated proudly, the recovery and pleasantries came to a sudden end, as shouting suddenly engulfed the street.
“Freeze, don’t move!” A pair of controlled gunshots echoed through the street.
Dash seven sprinted down the road, “Sarge, we’ve got a situation,” he called, waving a hand as he beckoned Butler and the rest of the squad to follow. The squad quickly mobilized, following after Butler. Ward and Adela recomposed themselves, as they quickly followed suit.
Meek, whelped, whining could be heard from down the street, as Butler sprinted to the side of dash eight, still overlooking the road. “What do you have for me?”
“One of those things came up the road. Soon as it saw us it tried to bail, I put one through its leg.” Down the road there was a mass lying in the middle of the street. It was another creature, appearing smaller and more humanly proportioned, curled into a ball clinging at its leg.
“Nice shot,” Butler commented, before turning back to the rest of the squad, “four, patch it up, two, three, go with him and make sure it doesn’t try anything.” Françoi, followed by Ward and Adela, all rushed down the road toward the second creature. Butler turned toward Collins, “I think we just found your guide doc.”
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No matter what the feeling in her gut wouldn’t go away. Charlie tried to ignore it as much as possible, trying to keep up appearances and continued with all her usual errands. Yet that twisting feeling had embedded itself deep inside her gut as it kept tugging at the back of her mind. The occasional concerned looks she constantly received from Vaggie only told her that she knew it too.
She just had to keep her mind off of it, keep taking care of the hotel, she couldn’t let it take control of her day. Besides chances were that I’d pass soon anyway, at least she hoped.
A pronounced knocking echoed through the hall, originating from the front door. Perfect, she thought, something, or even better someone, new to the hotel is exactly what she needed to tear herself away from that awful feeling. Angel Dust was lazily splayed across the couch in the center of the hall, with his gaze fixed on his phone he hadn’t even noticed the noise. Vaggie was on the opposite side of the hall And was already beginning to wander her way to the front.
“I’ll get it!” Charlie called, jumping to the door as her excitement quickly overtook any feeling from her gut. Standing before the door, the shadow of a figure was visible on the other side of the stained glass. She grasped the door handle, prepared her most gracious greeting, and zealously swung the door open. “Hello-“ her excitement quickly fell through, as the dread that pooled in her gut quickly became dominant again.
Before her, stood a man in an orange rubber suit, a gas mask covering his face, he was busy writing something on a piece of paper attached to a clipboard. A dozen other people were loosely gathered behind the orange figure in front, all wearing black bulletproof vests, helmets, and gas masks, all carrying rifles.
“Um,” the orange-suited figure spoke up, “good evening, is this the residence of a Charlotte Morningstar?”
Notes:
Alright, now we’re getting into the good stuff, and I’ve finally tied Hazbin into it.
Chapter 7 is almost done and I’m excited to share it next weekend.
Regardless, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and I’ll gladly take any feedback you have to give.
Chapter 7: Change of plan
Summary:
As Collins finally arrives at the location his benefactors invited him to, SCP-666 becomes unlike anything the foundation ever thought it was.
Notes:
Wwoooo!
I finally got a chance to publish again.
I’m getting to a point where weekly chapters are becoming untenable.
Regardless, I have no intent on abandoning this story. I'm happy with it and will see it through to the end, just know that chapters may become sporadic.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 7: Change of plan
“You charted the path back?” Butler asked, staring up at the building the ‘Demon’ had led them to.
It was a strange amalgamation to say the least, there was the general portion of the building which was a dilapidated old-fashioned hotel of sorts. However in addition to that there was the rotting hull of a cruise-liner, an old carousel, an awkwardly attached radio tower that looked as though it could fall off at any second, and, to top it all off, half-a-dozen neon signs all pointing out vacancies.
“Aye, Sarge,” Ward replied.
“Good, join the others.” Butler ordered, the rest of the squad being gathered around the front door, alongside the doctor, who had been staring at him, standing with his arms crossed. Butler turned to two MTF soldiers standing behind him, both had their arms wrapped around their ‘guide’ that had brought them here so graciously. “Dash-seven, eight, dispose of him will you.”
“What exactly do you want us to do with him?”
Butler looked back to the building for a moment, then turned back to the demon, wide eyes staring back at him in plight, “Toss him in an alley somewhere, make sure he doesn’t talk,” Butler ordered as the soldiers began to carry the Demon away. Butler finally marched up to the door to join the others, “go ahead doctor.”
“Well it’s about time,” Collins scuffed, swiftly turning and knocking his fist against the wood frame of the door. Some commotion was heard on the opposite side, including the muffled tone of someone yelling, before long the shadow of a figure appeared on the other side of the stained glass. Collins quickly gazed down at his notes, which he hadn’t made, at least not of the building. Quickly scribbling down: ‘ Dilapidated structure, Hazbin Hotel ’.
“Hello-“ a high pitched voice called from in front of him.
Collins looked up from his notes, to be immediately met with the slaked expression of dread from a girl with bleach white skin. Additionally she wore a light-red suit, which complimented her more vibrant red eyes.
For a second Collins just stared at her in awkward silence, unsure of what to make of the situation. “Um,” he finally spoke up, “good evening, is this the residence of a Charlotte Morningstar?”
The girl’s expression didn’t change, as she continued to look as if she’d collapse, which she likely would if it weren’t for the fact that she was able to prop herself up on the door.
“I think you broke her doc!” Adela called out from the background, with some mild chuckling emerging from a couple of the other soldiers.
“So it would seem,” Collins quietly murmured under his breath, as they continued to exchange blank stares. “Are you, um… alright?”
Her cheeks suddenly became flush, as her eyes flared, the girl quickly covered her face. “Sorry, yes that’s me,” she said, bringing her face out of hiding, a small sheepish smile on her face, “please just call me Charlie though. W-would you like to come in?” Her expression didn’t change as she stepped back and gave them space to pass.
Collins strode forward before a sudden tug on his shoulder prevented him from continuing.
“I don’t like this doc,” Butler stated bluntly, “you’re gonna trust them, just like that?”
“Opposed to what?” Collins countered, stepping back to Butler’s level. “This is our objective Sergeant, we have no choice but to proceed.”
“You’re really just gonna let them in like that hun?” Collins heard a hushed tone from beside him, another girl with pale grey skin had come to the door. “They have guns,” she whispered to ‘Charlie’, giving the occasional glance toward the MTF squad.
“Really such a threat Sergeant?” Collins asked mockingly, Butler didn’t respond, instead giving a mild grumble of disapproval. “Besides, that’s why you have guns.” Collins stepped forward again.
“I don’t think they’ll do anything, if they really wanted to hurt us then they probably would have already.” Charlie reassured the other girl. They both quickly locked their gaze back up to Collins as he stepped forward again.
“My apologies for the brashness of my…” Collins briefly glanced back at the half dozen fully kitted-out soldiers behind him, “enterag. However we mean absolutely no harm, my… um, friends here are just for security.” Collins attempted to be as reassuring as possible, even giving a slight smile, though that wasn’t exactly translated by the cold rubber exterior of the gas-mask. Not to mention that randomly showing up at someone’s door with a half-dozen armed soldiers probably wasn’t the best first impression, even in hell.
“R-right, and what is you guys’ reason for being here, and what’s with all the, you know… stuff?” Charlie asked, clasping her hands together as a nervous smile crossed her face.
It crossed Collins’s mind at the same time as it did Butler’s, both glancing briefly toward the other: she didn’t write the letter . Collins continued to stare forward for a moment as he thought about how to proceed. “We’ll… we — I’m — a researcher, we found that this… place has some potential as a testbed, and we wanted to see how it functioned and study the individuals within.” Collins explained, as the two girls stared at him blankly, the one with grey skin in particular, as she kept her eyes sharply peeled toward him. “The equipment is just for protection.”
“Riiiiiight,” Charlie responded, shifting her eyes back and forth between the doctor and the soldiers, “and what exactly are these tests?”
“Oh, well, really they’re nothing more than preliminary steps,” Collins began to flick through the first couple papers on his clipboard. “General descriptions, observations, subject data, and DNA sampling. Oh and a vast list of questions.” He stated matter-of-factly, though both of the girls continued to just stare at him. “Please? It’ll only take a couple minutes.”
“Al-right?” Charlie agreed slowly, stepping back as they finally allowed them inside.
Collins breathed a sigh of relief, as he waved back to the MTF group to follow him in.
“Anyways like I said, I’m Charlie, this is Vaggie,” she pointed at the grey skinned Demon, “and welcome to the happy hotel.”
“Hmm, strange name for hell. I’m Dr.“ stopping halfway through, Collins suddenly halted in his tracks as his gaze became engrossed with everything around him, “woah.” Maroon wallpaper covered the walls of the large entrance hall, a perfectly polished hard-wood floor reflecting the light of a pair of large chandeliers that illuminated the entire hall. The hall itself stretches high into the sky, with dozens of small paintings scattered intermittently across the walls, competing with the spaced out stained glass windows for attention. To the far end of the hall, on the opposite side of what looked to be a check-in counter, was a mantle and fireplace, casting a warm glow across the hall, while a giant painting loomed over the rest. A perfectly composed portrait of the girl, Charlie, flanked by two other figures, one tall and feminine, the other slightly shorter and masculine , a clear ‘family’ portrait.
A few other figures were scattered about, one In the far distance situated behind a counter of sorts. Notably a pair of arms emerging from behind the armrest of a sofa, wearing pink gloves illuminated by the distinctive glow of a smartphone, however the rest of the figure was obstructed. Yet neither of these figures seemed to pay Dr. Collins nor the ever increasing presence of the armed soldiers any mind. Gradually the MTF squad assembled in a loose formation behind Collins.
Butler marched up beside the Doctor, who was still busy gazing at the decor of the hall, the two girls staring awkwardly at him as he paid them no mind. Butler sharply shoved Collins in his shoulder with his elbow. Collins flinched as he was pulled out of the grandeur, giving a glare toward Butler. He gestured a hand out toward the girls.
“Oh… right, I-I’m sorry it’s just-“ Collins mumbled as took a quick gander of the room again, “it’s just so beautiful, while looking so dilapidated outside,” he briefly went down to scribble some notes on his clipboard, “no offense.”
“Of course not, I’m glad that you like it so much.” Charlie said, “we’re trying our hardest to make the best possible environment for Demons to reform.”
Collins suddenly glared back up at her, “reform? What do you mean by reform?”
“Y-you know,” a blush came over Charlie’s cheeks as she stumbled over her words, “like make them good again… repent for their sins.”
Collins turned to Butler, “does that work?” He merely shrugged in response. “Dash-nine, you know anything about this?”
“Repentance is a step toward being permitted into heaven,” Arno explained, “however there’s nothing to say that it applies after death. It could be that much more than just repentance is required, that’s if it’s possible at all, only the Lord knows.”
“Fascinating, well duh,” he tapped his fingers against his forehead “a Heaven to parallel Hell. Transcendence from one to the other however, would be extraordinary.” Collins murmured, flipping to the next page of his notes as he continued to write down information. “Could you imagine the potential of that?”
Charlie frowned somewhat at how strangely the figure was talking. What Demon doesn’t know Heaven exists? Even when barring general logic, the exterminations only confirm the fact. Unless they came from some obscure part of the rings?
“You’re really considering this doc?” Butler asked, with a scolded tone.
“It would be nice to have an alternative as we March toward inevitably, don’t you think?” Collins asked, semi-poetically.
The inevitable? “Wait,” Charlie glanced at Vaggie, who gave a slight unsure wince as they both priced everything together, before continuing, “you guys aren’t demons are you?” To which the doctor and soldiers merely fared blankly at her, “And you see something what we’re doing?” She asked a tinge of e resonating through her tone.
“Umm,” Collins hummed, “lt would be an interesting ex-“
The piercing sound of gunshots were unmistakable, the loud supersonic cracks echoing from beyond the walls of the hotel. Surely a common part of everyday life in hell, they’d heard a couple on their trip to the hotel. However the wide-eyed expression on Charlie and Vaggie’s faces suggested anything but. Collins turned toward Butler for confirmation, only to see him lean into his radio and say, “Dash-seven, eight, stand guard, things might get hot in here.”
Butler pressed his clipboard into the front of his mask, as if he was trying to hide his embarrassment. “Dash-one,” he exhaled sharply, “would you kindly tell me what that was?”
“Though eight and seven didn’t execute my orders as I wished, they were eliminating unnecessary risks, sir.“ Butler replied mechanically.
Collins exhaled sharply, “right, right, unnecessary risks.” He glanced back at Charlie, who seemed worried and confused, then at Vaggie who was ready to fight, balling her fists and taking a combative stance. “Dammit! We had a chance at mutual cooperation, Sergeant, if you just ruined that by shooting our guide then there will be hell to pay once we’re back topside!” Collins sighed exasperatedly before the room went quiet for a moment. Collins took a step back, just in case, before reluctantly glancing back toward the girls.
“Wait,” Charlie questioned, more curious than suspicious or fearful, as the last pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. “You guys are Humans, aren’t you?”
Collins sighed, not knowing if conformation would better or worsen their situation, “Well, we-“
“Who the fuck are these guys!?” A naisaled voice called across the hall. The figure that had previously been obstructed by the sofa’s arm-rests had now fully emerged.
An inexplicably tall being in a white suit with pink stripes, covered head to toe in fluffed out white fur, like a poodle. The creature’s phone was still in its hand, though now it paid it no mind, all his attention being focused toward Collins and the MTF members. A large comb of hair swept up from its face, as it stared with squinted, discolored eyes.
“Humans, apparently.” Vaggie disgruntally mumbled to the creature.
“Oh shit, seriously?” A smile quickly spread across the creature’s face, a wide smile with a twinge of mischief to it. Rapidly rising, the creature stashed its phone with one set of hands, before strutting down the hall from the couch and straightening the fluff on its chest with a second set of hands. Encroaching within a couple meters of Collins as it towered over the doctor by several feet. “Quick drop ‘em, I’ve been craving a normal dick for-“
Standing just a meter from Collins, the creature was forced to stop due to the muzzle of a rifle being pointed up into its face. Milliseconds later half-a-dozen more guns were pointed at the figure as the entire MTF task force moved tocut it off from Collins, Ward and Butler putting themselves physically between the two. The creature looked almost stunned for a moment before turning to a rather glum disappointment.
A sharp cackle emerged from down the hall, as Vaggie pointed and laughed at the figures predicament. Well, at least she found a fair amount of amusement from it.
“Seems, some of them still like us.” Butler remarked, keeping the creature at rifle length.
Collins ignored him, gazing up at the face of the figure that towered a couple feet above him, “and you are?” He asked.
The creature smirked, “oh, I can be whoever you want, baby~” The figure responded with the most seductive tone it could, using its lower set of arms to bound the fluff on its chest up and down. Still mustering half a smirk, as it fluttered its eyes.
“Right, we’ll right now I would like you to return to your seat and wait patiently as we get around to you.”
“Fucking buzzkill,” it snarled, frowning, though it quickly faded as he shrugged all four of his shoulders and marched back to the couch, “your loss.”
As soon as the figure strutted back to its seat, Charlie appeared from directly behind it. Rather than with the previous horror, she stood there staring with utmost glee as she pressed her hands together. Attempting to scurry around the wall of MTF members to get to the doctor as she rambled excitedly. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it, I’ve never met humans before! What do you guys look like without your masks? Do you really think redemption is possible? What do you think of Hell? I hope you haven’t found too much trouble down here! Will you guys be staying long? How’d you get down here? What’s-“
“ENOUGH!” Charlie suddenly ceased, still smiling ecstatically, as the room turned silent. Collins brushed past the soldiers and stood opposite Charlie once more. “Now, I’m very happy that you’re so excited to work with us. However our expedition is just meant to be initial reconnaissance.” He assure, as Charlie appeared to calm herself, straighten her suit and become more professional. Or at least try to be, being too excited to hold herself still as she fidgeted with her fingers and danced on her heels. “Now, as much as I feel like I may regret asking, on account of first impressions-“
“Hey!” The flamboyant four-armed Demon called, “I made a great impression, HAH , try forgetting me after that one bitch.”
Only giving the courtesy of a brief glare at the figure, Collins promptly ignored him. “It is my job to catalog, all the figures who were willing to cooperate, so I must ask: who are they?” Collins pointed toward the pink suited Demon once more.
Charlie let the atmosphere grow quiet as her smile waived and became almost unsure, “Well…” Charlie began, breaking the silence awkwardly, “that is Angel Dust, he was our first resident, he was initially showing progress, until recently.”
Collins noted how this ‘Angel Dust’ held its hand up, mimicking Charlie’s speech with his hand as he nodded his head along to the beat in mockery. Only stopping after meeting the gaze of Vaggie, who’d been glaring daggers at Angel ever since he first started. Concluding in Angel smiling innocently at her and shrugging once more, before retiring to his phone.
“I see,” Collins mumbled as he scribbled down yet more notes, “If you don’t mind, we can investigate all that later. Currently we don’t have much-“ Collins slowed, as he and the rest of the MTF members slowly turned back toward the door, “time…” screaming interrupted by intermittent spurts of gunfire echoed outside. The noise bled through into the hall from behind the door, as misty shadows of god knows what polluted the visibility of the stained glass windows.
Then there was silence, the screaming, gunshots, all came to an instant halt.
Butler leaned into his radio, “Seven, eight, report.” Yet nothing but static came from the other end. The six soldiers all kept their guns trained on the door, as they formed a crescent firing line and crept ever closer.
With a sudden crash, and continued screaming, the door burst open as a slick black tentacle burst through, the end firmly wrapped around an MTF member. Jeering him around every which way as the man went screaming up the walls. Before it threw the man into the formation of soldiers. Many dogged or ducked out of the way, breaking formation, as the screaming man flew past, he collided with Devis sending both of them careening down the hall.
A sharp static sound began to fill the air, just as the soldiers reformed their line, Françoi ran back to tend to Devis and the other man. Patient footsteps clackled forward, the sound of wooden heels, as a figure began to approach.
With a horribly skinny, grey physique, a man dressed in a bright red, tattered, pin-stripe suit marched inside. A pair of oversized antlers sticking out of his head, while his glowing eyes resembled dials rather than pupils. Following the figure’s entrance was a second tentacle holding up the second MTF member that stood guard outside. The man dangled by his legs, struggling to no avail all while screaming and pleading for the others to help.
Butler signaled for the squad to move forward, as the line began to adjust, rifle muzzles aimed forward, and surrounded the figure. Its eyes narrow, the figure appeared to analyze the soldiers, scanning them, trying to figure them out. Meanwhile Collins was madly scribbling notes, going through page after page as he noted every detail, remaining well behind the line of soldiers. Butler waited for a window, watching as the MTF member swung back and forth from the tentacle, hanging just in front of the creature. For the briefest second, the man had swung completely out of the way of the Demon, as Butler lined up a clear shot. His finger began to squeeze the trigger.
A sharp collision against Butler’s shoulder threw off his aim, as Charlie barged past, grabbing at his rifle as she pushed it toward the ground, “No don’t!” She yelled.
Igniting in a sharp flash, Butler’s rifle went off, as the shot careened into the floor, harmless, as a small crack formed in the hard-wood. Pushing back against the girl, the two wrestlers with the rifle for a second, before Butler bashed Charlie with the stock of it. Losing her footing, she tripped over herself, falling to the floor, clutching the bruise on her shoulder she landed on her butt in front of the soldier, who already had the muzzle of his rifle pointed down at her.
Steely eyed lenses of the gas mask staring down the rifle at Charlie, her eyes turning bright red as she sprouted a pair of sharp white horns from her head.
Butler felt something sharp and cold press along his spine. Vaggie lined the edge of her spear against the back of Butler’s neck, ready to thrust forward if the Sergeant so much as flinched. However her position was no safer than Charlie’s, as the sudden sound of a sharp metallic clank pulled her fiery-eyed gaze off to the side toward another MTF soldier. Ward turned from the formation, racked her shotgun, and aimed the muzzle toward Vaggie, staring her down, as the Demon stared right back.
With the situation rapidly heating up, Collins quickly jumped forward, firmly placing a hand on Butler’s rifle before pushing it aside, “stand down Sargeant!” Butler turned toward Collins, through the tinted lenses he could almost see Butler’s scolded glare stare back at him.
After a second Butler relaxed his stance, still feeling the cold tip of the spear in his neck. He nodded his head toward Ward, signaling her to lower her gun, which she did, letting the shotgun rest at her hip as the spear’s cold edge finally left his neck.
Collins nodded down at Charlie, giving her the go-ahead .
She twisted her body around staring at the red-suited figure, yelling at him, “Alastor, put him down! They’re friends!”
“What, these interlopers?” The figure asked with a sharp accent, as the tentacle brought the flailing MTF soldier closer. Giving a slight snarl followed by a chuckle, the figure relented, “fine,” it stated, followed by the thud of the soldier crashing to the floor. Once the unharmed man was firmly back amongst his comrades, Butler gave the signal to stand-down, the rest of the soldiers lowered their weapons but remained tense just in case. Within a flash of a second the scrawny figure suddenly transformed: the tentacles disappeared into thin air, the pair of large antlers shrunk down to a couple of small forks, the hum of static left as quite ambiance returned, and the figure's eyes spawned a pair of lighter-red scolara and large pupils.
Collins gave a sigh of relief, as if he’d held his breath throughout the entire standoff. Taking a step forward, Collins extended a hand down toward Charlie, who was still sitting on the floor, her eyes having returned to normal and horns disappeared. After a moment's hesitation she took it. “I again apologize for my companions' brash actions, we’re new to your world and are still a tad… jumpy.” Collins explained as she helped the girl to her feet.
Charlie quickly jumped back to her normal attitude, flashing a slight smile before responding, “No, no, I understand, you’re just keeping yourselves safe. I just hope we don’t have any more conflicts like this in future.”
Her words began to become little more than background noise to Collins, as he became distracted. Distracted by her hand specifically, which he still held, it was soft, small, fragile, proportional, almost too Human . “How curious.” Collins muttered subconsciously.
“Curious indeed.” A sharply accented voice spoke over Collins shoulder, causing him to jump, as he was suddenly pulled out of his wonder. With a bright yellow smile and wide red eyes, the scrawny figure dressed in red suit, that previously terrorized his men, was now mere inches from his face.
Collins frantically backed away, getting as close to the MTF squad as he could. This figure was unlike Charlie, Vaggie, or any of the other Demons he had run into so far. He was cold, calculating, and patient. Every moment that he kept his eyes on Collins made it feel like he knew exactly what he was thinking at every second. Yet, at the same time, Collins couldn’t dissuade himself to look away. There was some strange raw power that emanated from him, despite his spindley figure, there was something unnerving about how its expression and the way it carried itself.
Noting Collins' apparent discomfort, Charlie intervened, “Alastor! Stop scaring them, they’re friends.”
Alastor turned up an eyebrow to that, “Dear, do friends point weapons at each other?” He asked with a smirk, giving hinting glances toward Butler and Vaggie. Charlie huffed but gave no response. “However I suppose that is slightly more normal down here.” Alastor turned his gaze toward Collins, noting his apparent distinction from the rest. Suddenly dashing toward him, covering several feet in microseconds, he grabbed Collins hand, gave it a firm shake, speaking rapidly, “I’m Alastor my dear friends, the co-executive of this fine establishment.” By the time the MTF soldier surrounding Collins began to aim their weapons Alastor had already let go, having moved back several feet from them.
Collins struggled to produce words, “Yea, um, a-alright. I’m Dr-” A slight tap on his shoulder paused him as Butler called his attention.
“Doc,” Butler called, holding out his wrist into Collins’ view, a small mechanical wrist-watch. The hands were pointing at eight and six.
They had 30 minutes left. “Dammit,” Collins cursed, realizing the sudden time-crunch, “Get Françoi, we still gotta collect DNA samples.”
fifteen minutes, two dozen vials of blood, and half-a-dozen band-aids later, with the only hiccup being trypanophobic spider, and the foundation had their DNA. And the squad still had fifteen minutes to spare to get back to their extraction point.
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Collins was staring down at Butler’s watch again, the hands having moved to nine and two. Collins looked around again, a few of the soldiers were on patrol, keeping watch over the streets and ensuring no one approached them, however most were just lazing around, sitting on the floor, leaning against walls, cleaning equipment. For a moment he considered weather Cpl. Ward’s map charting abilities were up to task, however the building surrounding them told otherwise. There were the smashed residential locations and abandoned apartments, particularly the barbershop with a canted sign and broken pole. It was the right place, there was just no portal.
Collins sighed again, as he let Butler reclaim his watch, “How can this be possible? We arrived more than on time and yet… nothing.” For the briefest moment Collins considered whether they could be on a different time zone compared to the foundation, however none of the D-class tests showed evidence of time dilation between SCP-666 and Earth.
“So now we're just a bunch of very heavily armed soldiers stuck in a dimension with lunatics running around everywhere.” Ward spoke up from behind Butler, “Great…”
Devis stood beside her, “Could be worse, at least hell is just a more red version of life on earth instead of fire, brimstone, and eternal suffering.”
Butler glared back at them, a clear note telling them to be quiet, before turning back to Collins, “What do you wanna do, doc?” He asked.
Collins momentarily gazed back at the spot where the portal was when they entered, as if in that moment it may just appear, however the air remained empty. “We’ll give it another few minutes, otherwise we’ll need a change of plans.”
“And if the portal never shows, what do we change our plans to?” Butler countered.
Collins chuckled slightly, realizing his ironic fortune, “Then we have just the place to go.”
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The debate had been going back and forth for the last half-hour, yet none of them had made any solid conclusion. What were they to make of their new friends?
“C’mon they weren’t that bad, they were scared, nervous.” Charlie argued as she had been the entire time, finding what little good came out of the standoff.
“They pointed guns at us, hun, one of them was literally seconds away from shooting you.” Vaggie countered, Butler’s very near attempt at harming Charlie being a particular sticking point in her mind.
Alastor, in his ever present quest for entertainment, had been observing the discussion, “To be fair violence breeds violence dear Vagitha.”
Vaggie snarled at him, “As if you’re one to talk! You literally threw one of them across the room, causing the whole standoff to begin with. Could you imagine what would’ve happened if you killed one of them?! It would’ve been an absolute bloodbath.”
“See!” Charlie exclaimed in some sense of victory, “If we just don’t threaten them then everything would’ve been fine. Besides, you saw the Doctor guy, right? He kept holding them back every time, he didn’t want anything to blow-up, just as we didn’t. They just felt threatened, and were scared.”
“I’m sure they were plenty scared by their guide.” Vaggie remarked.
Charlie sighed in defeat, again she recalled how the Doctor had yelled at the soldiers after that happened, however before she was able to counter, the hollow sound of knocking echoed through the hall.
Lacking her previous energy and gusto, Charlie slumped to the door, as she again prepared her enthusiastic greeting to, what was hopefully, another Demon seeking redemption. She marched over to the front door, grasped the brass handle, and swung the door open with all the zeal she had left within her.
That remaining energy was soon gone however. She wanted to face-palm so hard she hoped it would knock her out, so she could wake up next morning and have forgotten all about today. Before her she saw the Doctor dressed in his orange hazmat suit and gas mask alongside the other nine black clad soldiers with all their equipment and weapons.
“Hello, It’s us again.” Collins greeted with hesitancy, giving a slight wave to the exhausted Charlie.
Notes:
This may be my favorite chapter so far, chapter 8 is also almost done and should be good to be posted next weekend. Otherwise I have no promises for any other chapters or when they’ll be done, I’ll post them when they’re done.
Regardless, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and I’ll gladly take any feedback you have to give.
Chapter 8: Getting Acquainted
Summary:
Now stuck in Hell, Dr. Collins brings his squad back to the hotel, where he reluctantly relies on Charlie for assistance. Collins learns all he can from the hotel's residents, and finally realizes the foundation’s misplaced fear.
Notes:
Well this one was just a doozy to write. Originally I was gonna have this be two chapters but the break felt awkward and I felt it worked better if I just made it one really long chapter.
Also be prepared for fluff. The other chapters were more time-sensitive and urgent in their plot, however, since they’re stuck that urgency is gone. So I indulged in a fair amount of fluff for this chapter, which is part of the reason why it’s so long.
Anyway, please enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 8: Getting Acquainted
The dread on Charlie’s face was apparent, as she leaned on the edge of the door. Part of Collins wondered if she’d just slam it back shut on them.
“I, um, apologize for the inconvenience but we’re a bit desperate at the current moment.” He said awkwardly, placing a hand on the back of his neck. The Foundation usually just used force to take what it wanted and get where it needed, begging for help from the entities being contained was unusual, to say the least. “Please, we just need somewhere safe to gather ourselves and form a new plan.” Collins pleaded, placing his and the lives of all the men under him in her hands. A simple ‘no’ and they’d be left on the streets, where who-knows-what could happen.
Charlie pressed her thumb and index finger against her brow, remaining silent for a while. She looked back into the hall before turning to Collins again, “Ok, fine, you may rest at the hotel, but we’re gonna lay down some ground rules to make sure no more ‘incidents’ happen. Come inside Doctor.” She opened the door fully, allowing Collins and the soldiers inside.
Despite the girls' welcome, it was clear that they weren't wanted, likely due to the previous stand-off and other hostilities. As much was confirmed as soon as the doctor and soldiers set foot in the hall once more, being met with wide-eyed stares from all the same Demons: Alastor, Angel Dust, and particularly Vaggie, who seemed more ready to fight than anything.
Marching toward the group, Vaggie carried a glare sharper than her spear as she came to her girlfriend’s side. “What the hell are they doing back here?”
“We experienced some complications-“ Collins stated cautiously, “we created a time table for our department to open the portal back topside. Needless to say they never opened the portal.” He finished explaining.
Charlie picked up after him, “They just wanna stay the night to rest and make a new plan, Vaggie.” She leaned in closer to her, “c’mon we can’t just leave them out on the street.”
“You remember what they did right, hun?” She asked in a hushed tone, “I just wanna be sure that you’re ok with this, they are dangerous.”
“That’s why I have you to watch my back.” Charlie remarked, smiling back at Vaggie, who returned the favor. She turned back toward Collins and the soldiers, “Like I said, Doctor, you may stay at the hotel, but first ground rules.”
“Oooh boy!” Butler reacted, “Listen up lads were negotiating house rules, any of you don’t follow em’- well you know the consequences.” He remarked with half a chuckle in his tone.
Collins was a scientist, not a soldier, and considering the previous ‘incident’ largely involved Butler and his men, perhaps he wasn’t the best person to make a call on this. “Actually, Sergeant, since I figure these ‘rules’ will mostly be affecting you and your squad, I was wondering if you wouldn’t like to negotiate?” Collins asked, noting the slight unease in Charlie and particularly Vaggie’s expression.
“Hmm, Gladly.” Butler hummed, as he stepped forward and stood opposite the girls. His rifle hung from a sling in front of him as he held his hands behind his back.
Vaggie didn’t like it one bit, tensing sharply as she stood opposite the man. The man who held her girlfriend at gunpoint, and she threatened to kill. “Fine,” she scoffed, “firstly no guns-”
Butler didn’t even let her continue, “Hah, yea, that’s not gonna happen.”
“You’re not under threat here, you won’t need them.” Charlie elaborated, fruitlessly trying to convince the stubborn soldier.
“Oh really now?” Butler remarked sarcastically, “well I apologize that I’m not willing to put the lives of my men into the hands of Demons, especially not with that thing-“ he pointed toward Alastor on the far side of the room, “that threw one of my men across the room and threatened to kill another, under the same roof.”
“That’s smart coming from the man who threatened to kill her-“ Vaggie nodded toward Charlie as she took a step forward, closer to Butler, “not to mention bargaining in here and threatening to shoot up the place.”
Just like Vaggie before him, Butler took a step forward as the two were face-to-face. “Says the woman who held a spear to my neck and threatened to kill me.”
“You were a threat to Charlie.”
“Who protected her Demon friend that threatened to kill my men.”
Collins and Charlie looked at each other, The Whole situation was heating up again and soon they’d be at another stand-off. “Maybe we can reach a compromise?” Charlie intervened.
“We could disarm some of the men and leave sentries.” Collins suggested.
“Fine,” Butler grumbled, “one fireteam, three men, will remain armed and on guard.”
“Bullshit, you get one.” Vaggie demanded, narrowing her gaze as they stared each other down.
“Fifty-fifty?” Collins added.
“Very well then two it is,” Butler submitted, backing away and marching back to the other soldiers. “We’ll rotate sentries, dash-seven, you and I’ll go first. The rest of you unload your weapons.” He ordered, rattling and metal clanging echoed through the room as the remaining soldiers pulled the magazines and bullets out of their rifles and stashed them in pouches. “Any other rules?” Butler asked, nodding his head in Charlie’s direction.
She was taken aback for a moment, though it was nothing like what had happened a couple hours ago it got far closer than she was comfortable with. “No violence, and keep drinking and such to a minimum please. I’ll get room keys for each of you, ten right?”
“Half that, five, we’ll bunk up, two per. Nobody by themselves, too vulnerable.” Butler turned his attention to another one of the soldiers, Françoi. “Dash-four, what did they say about the stuff in the air again?”
Alphonse spoke in his thick French accent, “The ashes will cause no lasting damage for exposure under ten hours. I would recommend that masks remain off for no more than one hour, that way we can all sleep without the suits on.”
Butler nodded, “alright, you heard him lads, you’ve an hour to breathe and hit the sack before it’s masks on and back to business. Otherwise, squad dismissed.” He ordered as the previously well disciplined and organized soldiers quickly dismantled into a loose crowd of idle chatter, as the men quickly began ditching some of their heavier equipment.
Charlie just waited patiently, watching as the soldiers ditched their helmets and behaved more casually, finally appearing like actual people. One woman in particular, one with a polish flag on her uniform, she watched. Noticing as she pulled a pack of cigarettes out of a pouch on her uniform. “Oh, um please don’t do that in here.” Charlie called, being met with the stone-dead gaze of the gas-masks that the woman had yet to take off. “Outside please, there’s a terrace through there.” Charlie pointed toward a door on the side of the hall. The woman looked to where she pointed, before looking back to Charlie and nodding. She gave her a thumbs-up, before waving her arm to some of the others and proceeding through the door, half-a-dozen others following her through.
“Well-“ Collins began, the idle chatter died down as most of the soldiers left the hall, meanwhile he remained standing in front of the girls. “That went better than expected.” Clutching his clipboard against his side with his arm, while using both hands to loosen and pull off the chemical hood. Grabbing the gas-mask at the ‘chin’ Collins pulled it forward and off of his head, holding it off to his side with one hand, while using his other to run through and ruffle up his hair that had been matted down by sweat. “This place really is something,” he murmured under his breath, taking another gander around the room, with fresh eyes.
Finally he noticed the girls still looking at him, Charlie smiling broadly at him, and even Vaggie, who’d been largely stern and tense, gave him a slight smirk. “You never told us your name, Doctor.” Charlie stated.
Collins remained silent for a moment, frowning as if he were searching through the folds in his brain to confirm this, and indeed she was right. “I suppose I haven’t, sorry, I’m Doctor Franklin Collins of the SCP foundation.” He revealed, unable to help himself, he gave them a slight smile back.
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Firmly clasping her hands around the side of the tray, Charlie cautiously raised her arms, watching the dozen cups filled with the steaming brown liquid to ensure none went over their edge. As soon as she was confident that none of the coffee would spill, she began moving back toward and through the open kitchen door. After the disaster that was their first introduction she figured she’d try again, especially with the Sergeant and his soldiers. Entering back into the hall, she scanned around the figure-out where everyone had gone.
Dr. Collins was seated in one of the two armchairs by the fire, opposite him was Alastor, the two of them talking about god knows wha t. Angel and Husk had long retired to their respective rooms. Vaggie was busy behind the check-in counter. Leaving just the Sergeant and the other soldier standing guard in the hall: the Sergeant standing just beside the door to the terrace, while the other man stood beside the front door. Perfect.
Being that the Sergeant was closest, she wandered up to him first, spoons clinking against the ceramic mugs as she crossed the hall. Stepping in front of the man, he had his hands crossed behind his back while his rifle hung from a sling in front of him, the lenses of the gas-mask coldly staring forward, hardly even twitching as Charlie approached. “Hello-” She greeted, “Sergeant was it?”
Butler remained quiet for a long second before responding, “That is my rank, yes.” he stated coldly.
“Oh,” She reacted, “Can’t you tell me your name?” She asked curiously.
“No.” Butler replied coldly once more, “Foundation protocol.” He explained briefly.
“Right, right, anyways-” She pushed past that and onto her original goal, “I figured we’d-”
Butler cut her off, “Gotten off on the wrong foot?” He finished, “And so you made coffee thinking that you could win the graces of a dozen people with one small action.”
Charlie was taken aback for a moment, “W-well kind of, I just wanted to make your stay here as comfortable as possible.” She raised the tray up slightly, “Would you like some?”
“I don’t drink coffee,” He stated coldly, before taking a step closer to Charlie, “But let me make something abundantly clear. You’re a naive young adult, you want people to get along and have fun or some shit, I get that. Perhaps you mean no harm, perhaps you do. So long as my men are down here, I will stop at nothing to get them all out – alive.”
“I’m sorry if we came off as a threat to you Sergeant,” Charlie apologized, though she wasn’t quite sure for what, “Dr. Collins doesn't seem to share your fear,” She argued.
“Dr. Collins is fascinated by this place as a scientific curiosity, it’s his job, he’s a kid in a candy shop. My job is to keep him and the rest of my men safe.” Butler reached up to press a button on the side of his radio, “Four, get in here.” He ordered.
After a couple seconds, the door to the terrace swung open, one of the soldiers standing in the doorway. His mask and helmet were gone, exposing a horribly bony and gaunt face with lazy eyes, a cigarette hanging from between the man’s lips. “Oui Sergent?” Françoi asked in his thick accent. Butler merely nodded toward the tray, Alphonse gazed at the tray and then Charlie, giving a slight chuckle. For a second he dug through a couple pouches before producing a grey plastic box with a metal probe attached through a wire. He wiped the probe off, before dipping it into one of the mugs, Françoi’s eyes gazed at the small display on the apparatus for a couple seconds before dipping the probe in the next cup, and the next, and the next, before eventually returning the device to it’s pouch. He reached forward and took a mug from the tray, cupping it in both his hands, “Merci Chéri,” he leaned closer to Butler, “No carcinogens, no poison, just café.” He stated, before turning on his heels and returning to the terrace.
“My boys will appreciate it, but I’ll be watching. I hope we reach that understanding, at least.”
“We have,” Charlie replied sternly.
Butler finally moved his gaze from her, as he stared at the other soldier standing guard on the far side of the room, “Eight! You wanna cup!” He called, to which the soldier quickly rushed over.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Sarge?” The man asked, holding his helmet to his side in one hand as he removed the chemical hood with the other. Butler nodded toward Charlie. “Well shit, when you’d told me we were jumping into hell, I wasn’t expecting them to serve us.” The soldier lifted one of the mugs from the tray, “Thanks, Darling, you know how to make a soldier smile.” He patted Charlie on the shoulder with his elbow, before returning to his post.
Overcoming the initial confrontation, Charlie smiled at the soldier. Butler pushed open the door to the terrace for her, “they’re all yours,” He mentioned, keeping the lenses of the mask firmly locked on her as she proceeded through.
She emerged into the open space of the terrace, the steep side of the building to one side and railings to the other; overlooking the road. She noticed the soldiers on the far side of the terrace, leaning against railings, many with their masks off, smoking cigarettes, drinking from canteens, and chatting. Charlie watched, noting the smiles across faces, the laughs, and the twinkles in their eyes that spelled out all their hopes and dreams.
Charlie’s back stiffened, practically turning straight as a stick, as the loud and sudden thump sounded behind her. It startled her, but perhaps worse, all the soldiers immediately glared at her. Smiles turned to scowels, hopeful eyes to predatory stares, and the sounds of laughter and chatter to dead silence.
It was a Deer-in-headlights situation, all the attention had been thrown onto Charlie and she couldn’t think of how to help herself out of the awkward situation.
Finally she swallowed her anxiety, pasting on a bright smile, “Hello,” she cheered, though the assault of stares continued.
Ward kept careful watch over the girl, her mask still affixed to her face with the lenses locked on Charlie, just like the rest of her squad. Too many unknowns , it could be a trick, lure, or some other wacky magical nonsense that was consistent with oh so many other contained entities . Even if it did appear that the girl was just serving them coffee.
However, out of the corner of her eye, standing out from the rest of the soldiers, she saw Alphones. Ward turned toward him, his cigarette still hung from his lips as he hardly paid any attention to the girl, rather his attention was fixed, staring into space, at a cup clutched between his hands, steam lightly wafting from it. “Françoi!” Ward called, upsetting the silence.
Alphonse suddenly became alert, jumping in place, as his attention suddenly darted toward Ward, “Hmm?” he hummed with a tinge in his tone. Ward pointed to the mug in his hands. “Oh,” he reacted, “La dame served it, already tested, nothing dangerous.”
With that several of the soldiers relaxed slightly, however tension was still thick in the air as they kept their distance from Charlie. “Have you tried it?” Ward asked, to which Alphonse shrugged and shook his head. “Alright, who wants to be the first test subject?” She asked scanning over the group.
A round-faced woman with little more than stubble covering the rest of her head, took her cigarette out of her mouth “Where’s the D-class?” Adela called, some mild chuckles emanated from a couple men.
“Fuck it,” Devis pushed himself off the railing, “c’mon, she’s just some sweet girl trying to do us a favor, yet all of you act like cold bastards,” He pridefully marched up to charlie, standing just before the tray.
“You say that till you start puking up blood!” one of the soldiers called.
Devis look over his shoulder, “Fuck off Sandman!” He called back, before returning his attention to Charlie “you wouldn’t do that to us, right?” He asked, a smirk crossing his face.
Charlie smiled waivered slightly, showing some concern, “Uhm… no?” She replied simply.
Devis Took one of the mugs by the handle, backing away a couple of paces, “Besides, Françoi already cleared it, right?” He glanced at Alphonse, who merely shrugged. Devis sucked in a breath as he raised the mug to his lips, the terrace fell silent. He chugged back a fair amount of the liquid before…
Devis’s eyes suddenly darted wide, dipping the mug away as he lurched his back and spat the liquid on the ground. Panting, his mouth hung open as he wafted air into it with his hand.
“That is why I haven't tried it yet, choux fleur.” Alphones stated plainly, the hot steaming mug still clasped between his hands. Laughter erupted from the other soldiers, as they jeered at the young Private’s sorrow.
Gritting her teeth, Charlie’s face became enveloped with a grimace of concern, “I might’ve forgotten to mention that.”
Gradually the laughter at Devis’s expanse died down, as the soldiers began to come up one at a time to take a cup for themselves, all the while still throwing quipps and remarks toward the Private. However, that too soon died down as the soldiers returned to their previous state before Charlie entered, again transforming from beasts into people.
Charlie had set down the tray and taken one of the spare cups for herself, as she took a place beside the one soldier still wearing their mask – Cpl. Ward – as she tuned into the small conversations the soldiers were having. Yet there was one thing that rang back and forth in her mind, “I thought you guys weren’t allowed to use your names?” She asked suddenly, the first words she’d spoken, as the soldiers suddenly turned to silence.
“We’re not…” Adala clarified, tilting her brow up at Charlie.
“But you keep calling each other like nick-names, or something, right?” Charlie persisted, she pointed to Alphonse, “Françoi,” then to another soldiers, with sharp features, “Sandman,” to Devis “choux fleur,” to which the private immediately face-palmed, lastly she pointed to Ward, “Two-Face.”
Ward chuckled, “Yea, give ya fifty-bucks if you can guess why.”
“We use call-signs,” Adela clarified, “the numbers bulshit got boring quick, so the foundation began letting some units use call-signs instead. It’s just the military equivalent of nick-names.” She nodded toward the soldier with sharp features, “He’s lonely like Pagliacci,” Some of the soldiers began humming the chorus of the song, “Has lots of wavy hair like Liberace,” the soldier in question moc-flipped his hair around, “Mr. sandman made us a dream; Hence the handsome bastard made his call-sign Sandman.”
“While we’re on the topic of nick-names,” Devis spoke up, gradually turning toward Alphonse with a slight twinge in his eye, "Françoi, care to tell me why you keep calling me a fucking cauliflower?”
Alphonse just stared back, with half closed eye-lids, for a moment, as the whole group gradually turned their attention toward him. They were all curious. “I suppose saying that it’s ‘suitable’ won’t suffice?” He questioned, to which he was met with moans and groans of disappointment. “Alright, fine. It’s because you’re like a cauliflower?”
“You saying I’m weak?” Devis asked with hostility.
“Non, a choux fleur is strong when it is whole, but when pressure is applied and branches are chipped away then it will collapse fantastically.” The medic paused as he took a brief sip from the coffee, “Tu es fort, anglaise. But when sufficient pressure is applied you will collapse spectacularly,” he said with a slight smirk.
Devis stared at Alphonse for a while, his lips pouted, frowning sharply, “Whatever you say frog,” he grumbled, turning away from the medic.
Alphonse chuckled, “Blaireau,” he replied.
Feeling a slight tap on her shoulder, Charlie turned sharply on her heels, to be met with the snide smile of her girlfriend. Standing there with her hands on her hips, dressed in her rose colored uniform. Before she even had a chance to say anything, Charlie threw her arms around her, carefully balancing the coffee mug as she gave a brisk hug. “How’s it going hun?” She asked, as Charlie released and made space.
Charlie smiled at her genuinely, “Oh it’s been wonderful.” She lit up, almost glowing with joy, “I've been learning so much about our guests. Basically, they’ve got these, like, rules where they’re not allowed to use their names, so instead they have these little military nick-names that they use. They also like the coffee, and well-” Charlie’s tone shifted somewhat as she changed topics, losing some of her energy, “They’re kind of a bit mean to each other, but otherwise they’re really nice.” She explained, regaining her energy toward the end.
“Pfft, just soldiers banter,” Devis shrugged off, noting that he’d been today’s target of much teasing. “It’s all in good jest,” he reassured.
It was only then that both the girls turned back toward the soldiers, all of whom were now staring at them. An only slightly awkward silence followed, Charlie maintained a bright smile while Vaggie became more muted, some of the soldiers smiled back, others weren’t paying any attention to the situation at all, and others yet seemed confused above all else.
“How'd you lose the eye?” Ward suddenly barked out of the silence, as she stared forward at Vaggie.
Frowning at the more personal question, Vaggie stared back at the still masked soldier, the hollow-eyed gas-mask lenses staring at her eerily. “Excuse me?” she asked.
“The eye,” Ward tapped her finger on the lense covering her left eye, “How’d you lose it?” she asked again.
“That’s a bit of a personal question, don’t you think?” Vaggie asked with a slight sneer, hostility becoming apparent on her face.
“Just sayin,” Ward shrugged, if anything she became more relaxed leaning back on the railing edge of the terrace, “We match sister.”
A strange wash of confusion entered Vaggie’s eyes, as she remained stern and held her frown, yet also tried to figure out what the soldier meant. “What do you mean?”
Ward turned her head so that the girls only had a profile view of the left-hand-side of her face. Pinching the chin of her mask with her thumb and side of her palm, she pulled the elastic forward, giving it clearance to lift off of her head. Her slightly longer than crew-cut hair became unobstructed by straps. The left side of a relatively boney face, like Alphonse though with fuller cheeks, of a woman in her late twenties. Her left eye darted to the corner of its socket, staring at the girls, as a slight smirk appeared on her face. Some of the soldiers were already beginning to crack with laughter, knowing exactly what was coming. Ward slowly, and somewhat overdramatically, began to turn her whole face toward the girls, saying “You were asking about my call-sign?” The other half of Ward’s face began to come into the girl's view, tired young skin giving way to wrinkled scarred tissue. A large patch of pale dead skin stretching up from her right jaw, over her cheek and eye, and terminating a couple inches from her hair-line. Hundreds of tiny pits, tears, and Gashes covered by barely healed tissue all over the right half of her face. Shining slightly from her right socket, unlike the left eye’s liveliness, the right eye stared forward hard and cold.
Charlie’s eyes widened as she almost immediately recoiled at the sight, though her girlfriend shared some initial shock, Vaggie largely remained nonchalant. The snickering from the soldiers soon came to a head however as several of the soldiers burst out laughing at the girl’s reactions, Ward included. The intent of the ‘dramatic reveal’ now clear, Charlie frowned somewhat.
“Ooooh,” Adela suddenly reacted, calling everyone's attention, “I thought it was your call-sign cause you’re a lying, cheating, bastard.” She remarked.
Ward Chuckled, “Well-” she shrugged, “Lying, cheating-”
Adela cut her off, “don’t you dare deny the ‘bastard’ part,” she joked.
“I wasn’t going to,” Ward reassured, a smirk on her face, “I just count myself lucky that I shoot left-handed.” Ward turned back toward Charlie and Vaggie, both the lively and stone cold eye staring at them. She raised a finger to her right eye, an audible clinking sounded as she tapped on its surface, “eye’s fake, just a marble.”
“Yea and when she’s feeling colorful she’ll replace it with an actual marble.” Adela joked.
“Foundation’s never heard of the word ‘color’.” Sandman remarked sourly.
Ward raised both her hands to her right eye, “I can do magic tricks with it though, wanna see?” she asked, through which Charlie raised an eyebrow as she grew more interested. The rest of the soldiers grew quiet as they gave Ward the stage for her performance. Ward held her hand out infront of her, the glass eye clutched between her index-finger and thumb. Placing it in her other hand, the eye rested in her palm, she closed her fingers overtop of it, covering the glass eye as she removed her other hand. Briefly rubbing her fingers against her palm, she shook her fist twice and opened her hand revealing her empty palm.
“Woah…” Charlie muttered, gazing at the trick as she looked genuinely confused, “I didn’t know humans could do magic.”
Vaggie looked significantly less impressed, “They can’t hun,” she clarified, “It’s in her pocket.” Charlie quickly lost her amazement as she made the realization, becoming visibly disappointed.
Ward tilted her brow down, sharply frowning at Vaggie, “Well, I’m sure you’re great fun at parties,” she scoffed. Ward maintained that scowl for a solid minute, with Vaggie staring her down, before Ward’s eye suddenly darted over her shoulder and lit up wide.
Snapping off of the railing, Ward pulled her back straight, clacked her heels together, and held her arms straight at her side, the other soldiers also darted into position as they quickly followed suit. “Squad, ten-hut!” Ward called, as all the men stood at attention.
“At ease,”
Charlie jumped slightly as she heard the muffled voice call from behind her. Looking over her shoulder, behind her and Vaggie stood the tall frame of the Sergeant, his mask still on, his presence commanding. The rest of the soldiers took a more relaxed stance, with their hands behind their backs.
Butler moved around the girls, hardly casting a glance as he moved to the center of the pack of soldiers. He turned to Ward, noticing the lacking eye, “keeping our hosts entertained, Corporal?”
“To the best of my abilities, sir,” she dropped the steely-eyed gaze as she presented a slight smirk, “gotta give good impressions, right?”
Butler’s gaze reverted toward the floor briefly, “you know you’re not supposed to have the eye in while in the field.” Butler raised his head again, as Ward dropped her smile and returned to a stern expression. “The eye busts and then what? I’m gonna have to order Françoi to pull the bits of glass outta your face,'' Butler glanced over his shoulder at the medic.
“With all due respect, sir,” Ward began, tucking her hand in her pocket before withdrawing it, the glass eye firmly tucked into her palm. Flicking her wrist, she tossed the marble up before catching it with her other hand, “the eye-patch itches like hell-“ she brought the glass eye up to her right eye-socket. Lining it up, she firmly pressed it into the socket, with her thumb as it popped into place, “and doesn’t look nearly as pretty.” She smiled, the cold glass eye matching her lively eye as she looked at the Sergeant.
“Hmm,” Butler hummed, briefly gazing at the floor again. “Well, the foundation mandated the use of CBRN suits, meaning that as far as I’m aware, behind the masks all my men followed the appropriate foundation dress protocols.” Butler responded, turning on his heels away from Ward as he turned toward the squad as a whole. “Alright lads, break times' over, go tuck yourselves in, it’s back to business in the morning.”
Butler turned and began back toward the door. Gradually the soldiers she had come to know just slightly more began to follow after him, each returning their mugs to the tray Charlie had brought. Ward lingered perhaps a second longer than the test of them, before she too returned her still full cup of coffee, giving Charlie a brief pat on the shoulder as she passed her by. Leaving Vaggie and Charlie standing outside on the terrace.
“And? How was your first encounter with humans, hun?” Vaggie asked, out-of-the-blue.
“A bit more hostile than I hoped,” she sighed, pausing for a while she thought about it longer, taking a moment to piece every detail together and straighten it all out in her mind. “They aren’t any different, you know. I don’t know what I was expecting but they’re exactly like us, they have their own joys and dreams, and - fears.”
Vaggie chuckled, coming up just over Charlie’s shoulder, “except that we’re dead,” she stated coyly, leaning in slightly as she softly kissed Charlie on the cheek.
Charlie smiled at her, “C’mon, let’s go make sure that they don’t get into a fight with Alastor again, or something.” She suggested going to gather the tray of mugs, most of which were completely or mostly full, before leading Vaggie back toward the door and into the hotel.
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Collins sat quietly, his hand cupped around his chin as he leaned on his elbow against the arm of the chair he sat in. Watching every movement of the brightly dressed Alastor before him, noting how the man never dropped his smile, yet it wasn’t unrelenting. Collins noted the little twitches and minor adjustments the Demon’s smile took as he spoke and reacted to their conversation. It created a certain awe-spiring presence, despite the Demon’s scrawny figure he displayed no weakness, only reinforced by the orange glow that crackling fireplace cast on them. Collins thought back to the stand-off Alastor caused earlier in the day, it made him shiver slightly. The thought made him gazed back into the hall that the MTF sentries were present in, at the very least they could intervene if this Alastor decided to tempt such an occurrence again. Then again, what could Mjolnir-3 really do to stop him?
Even with Alastor’s odd demeanor, the intrigue of the Demon paled in comparison to all the information he told Collins. Collins' interviews with the 666-1 and -2 instances had only given him snippets of this world, Alastor, or SCP-666-3-A, was filling in the full picture. Hell was far more complicated than Collins had envisioned, and far more fascinating than he imagined. Collins gazed down at his pages of notes, everything about the overlords, the animal-based fusions that were Demons, How sins affect appearance and punishment of individuals, the ‘ magical ’ abilities and powers that ‘ sinner Demons’ would gain and ‘Hellborn Demons’ could learn, the status of ‘ Imps ’ as a lower class, Hell’s noble class, the endless turf-wars for different sectors, the sin-based districts, the rings of Hell and how Demons traversed them, and so much more. Perhaps most importantly he was going to have to revise his designations.
What about the potential of invasion though? Collins thought for the first time since entering the hotel, he’d been so distracted by all his discoveries that his original objective had slipped his mind. This ‘ Pentagram City’ he currently resided in was total anarchy, if the rest of hell was at all like it, which according to Alastor’s testimony it was, then it was little more than fantasy. A Hellish invasion of earth was at the very least unrealistic, the city had zero centralization to speak of, infighting was a constant, and cooperation near nonexistent. For Hell to muster and organize a suitable invasion force for Earth would, ironically, require a miracle. Though a smaller invasion force was always possible, the foundation would be more than able to counter it. There are always those who can, and regularly do, teleport themselves to earth, however they are meere pickings compared to an invasion.
“-Anyhow, that should cover that for the most part.” Alastor finished, as Collins continued to listen patiently, scribbling down a couple notes after the Demon went silent.
There was something that stuck out in Collins’s mind though, “yes but all these princes, and overlords, and other ruling figures, there has to be some overarching authority above them all, right?” Collins asked, “From everything you’ve told me, it seems unlikely that Hell would come together under any sort of council system, unless there was someone to force them to, that is.”
Alastor’s smile seemed to broaden somehow, the demon otherwise remained unphased. One of his ears briefly twitched causing his bright red eyes to dart off to the side and stare off into the hall.
At that same moment, the squad of MTF members had come back inside, barging through the hotel, collecting their keys, before eventually funneling out toward the elevator on the far side of the hall, Butler among them. “Eight, you’re off duty, go take a nap!” He called across the hall, “Dash seven and six, you’re on for the next two hours, then cycle out.” He ordered, as the previous sentry joined the crowd, and the other two soldiers took their positions. “Doc!” Butler called, finally addressing Collins, “It’s bedtime.”
Collins merely glanced at Butler, before returning his attention to his notes and Alastor, “Negative, Sergeant, I’m on a quest for answers right now and I will not have it be interrupted by something as trivial as sleep.”
Butler leaned back on the counter of the bar, as if he was going to wait for Collins to finish his work. Despite their extended presence at the hotel, he’d somehow failed to notice the presence of the figure behind the bar. A fuzzier Demon, appearing to resemble a grey cat with wings, wearing suspenders and slacks, and a tophat. The figure hadn’t called attention to himself, made his presence known, or even so much as said a word, despite all the chaos in the last couple of hours. Butler looked over his shoulder at the figure, who gave a sideward glance back at the Sergeant. Butler nodded his head at the Demon, to which it merely shrugged. Quickly growing bored, Butler hopped off the counter and followed after his squad, leaving Collins by himself.
“Hmm, Alastor finally continued, “You’d be surprised, though I’m hardly the right person to tell you about this.” Alastor’s eyes wandered off as Charlie and Vaggie returned through the hall.
“Hi Doctor, hey Al!” Charlie greeted, returning the tray of mugs to the bar, where the cat Demon began to take care of them.
Alastor’s smile dipped just slightly, appearing almost unnerved, “Dear I thought I’d asked you to not refer to me as such.” He complained.
“Oops, sorry Alastor, the short hand is just more natural to me.” She apologized, approaching the pair, “how’s it going?”
“Quite well-” Collins responded quickly, “Alastor here was just telling me about Hell's organizational structure and hierarchy.”
“Oh then he probably told you about my father, right?” Charlie asked.
Collins raised his brow, squinting slightly as he thought. When he’d finished, he turned to Charlie fully as he gave her his attention. “No, he hasn’t. Considering all the refineries in here, I’d figured he was someone wealthy at least. Why, is he important?”
“We’ll of course!” Charlie replied excitedly, though Vaggie, standing behind her, seemed considerably less optimistic. “He’s Lucifer, the king of Hell.”
Collins was silent for a minute, as the gears ground away in his head. He turned back toward the fire, specifically the large family portrait hanging above it, the short figure painted beside Charlie, wearing a white suit and top-hat. The king of hell? Yet he looked so — anemic. “Lucifer Morningstar.” Collins muttered to himself. Reaching up, Collins rubbed his eyes, substantiating the bags beneath them. “So that would make you-“
“The princess of Hell, yes.” Charlie finished.
“So, Satan is your dad?”
“No Lucifer is, Satan is in charge of Wrath and we’ve kinda fallen out of contact.” Charlie corrected. “Strictly business with him these days, I’m afraid.”
“But I thought they were— you know just, I need a nap.” Collins pulled his arms up, stretching out the muscles in his back, before reclining further in his seat. Dropping his head back, he shut his eyes and chuckled quietly to himself. When he reopened them, the three demons — Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor — were all staring at him. “I feel like I’m going insane — too many long hours I guess. I'm really sitting in Hell, talking to Demons, one of whom just told me they’re Lucifer’s daughter. Or, am I still asleep in the night-guard’s bunks and the stench of 420J in there is just messing with my mind?” He went silent for a minute, “Lucifer and Charlie Morningstar, father and daughter, king and princess of Hell.”
“Doctor? Are you alright?” Charlie asked finally.
“Nope, you’ve officially broken me.” Collins chuckled again, “you’ve done it now Franklin, you’re sitting in Hell, talking to Demons, one of whom is Lucifer’s fucking daughter.”
“Maybe your guy was right, you’re not looking so great, you should get some sleep.” Vaggie suggested, like Butler before her.
“Perhaps, perhaps.” Collins considered, feeling the ever present presence of exhaustion weighing him down. Whoever suggested an expedition at 9pm anyway? Collins questioned, before realizing in an exhausted stupor that it was him that did. “No, no, you’re right.” Collins affirmed, slowly rising from his seat, “if you don’t mind, I’m going to join the others. After all, we need to make our escape-plan in the morning.” Collins began to make his way toward the elevator, “I thank you for your hospitality princess, and I bid you all a goodnight.” He stated before departing in the elevator.
“ Goodnight, monsieur Doctour. ” Alastor bid, chuckling to himself as his eyes narrowed and smile intensified.
Vaggie groaned, decidedly having had enough of Alastor’s bullshit, “Do you have to be like this for every second of the day?” Before storming off with Charlie close behind her.
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Rising with the general commotion the came from the various soldiers stumbling out of their beds and into the hallways. Collins made an immediate observation out of the window of his bedroom, being that night wasn’t significantly different from day. In comparison to Earth, day in Hell was more like dusk, while night was pitch black — though the city lit up the streets more than enough. Nevertheless, Collins straightened himself out for the day. Remembering the whole lung ash damage autopsy from when they’d sent the D-class through, Collins quickly reattached all his gear, strapped his gas mask on, sealed it, and covered his head with the hood once more, before snatching his clipboard and notes.
Emerging from his mostly red maroon room into the mostly red crimson hallway, Collins made his way to the elevator as he patiently rode it back down to the first floor.
Entering the hall it was surprisingly barren, only six of ten squad members being present— Ward and Butler standing beside the counter, the rest were scattered around the hall, along with Alastor, who just sat off to the side reading a newspaper. Despite that there was this incessant high pitched sound of conversation, all from a single voice, that made it sound like at least twenty people were in the room.
“Morning, Sergeant.” Collins greeted, re-energized with the tired groan of exhaustion having left his voice.
“Doc,” Butler greeted back, “we’d been brainstorming ways to get outta here, but well…”
“A certain obstacle has presented itself in that process.” Ward finished.
At that moment Collins felt something brush against his left leg. Gazing down, there was a black fuzzy mass, with a bushy tail, a single orange eye, and pointy ears, creeping between his legs with its four paws in a feline stance. Bending down, Collins grabbed the small creature at its waist, with both hands. Lifting it, the creature went slack and noodle-like in the same manner a cat would. Holding the creature up, it glared at him with an unimpressed stare. “A cat? This is what was causing you problems?”
“That’s part one,” Ward clarified. The high pitched tone of someone’s voice, that Collins had heard as soon as he arrived in the hall, gradually began to grow louder and louder. Ward continued, “here comes part two.”
The high pitched chattering grew louder exponentially, until a small figure jumped on the bar counter, sprinting across, it was little more than a blur of color. Jumping off at it reached the edge, it squealed “KEEKEE!” as it flew past Collins, snatching the cat out of his hands, before landing on the floor, a few feet away. The tiny figure comically cradled the cat which was just slightly bigger than it. “Keekee! I told you to leave our guests alone.” The small figure, a feminine humanoid cyclops, with bright orange hair, dressed in a rose colored maid outfit, scolded the cat. “I don’t trust them,” she whispered, “they left their muddy little footsteps all over my nice polished floors. It’s going to have to be — cleansed.” She stated with equal parts sweet and sinister.
Despite those last few words it was very hard to actually feel threatened by this, at most, half-a-meter tall figure that has a voice out of a child’s cartoon. By the time the figure had finished ridiculing the cat and had finally looked back over, Dr. Collins had crouched down to eye-level with the figure. “Oh, Hello!” She greeted him, with a toothy grin, before immediately firing off a series of questions in rapid succession; “Are you not going to show your face like your friends? What do you look like underneath? What are you people?”
“She’s been running around in circles, yapping up our backsides, and chasing after that damn cat.” Butler added.
Collins briefly glanced up at him to acknowledge his statement, before quickly returning his attention to the small Demon. “Hello, I’m Dr. Collins-”
“GREAT!” the Demon responded hyperly, “I’m Nifty, and this is Keekee!” She held the cat up closer to Collins face. Keekee just blandly stared forward with disinterest.
“Oh-kay…” Collins gazed at his notes, pulling up a report sheet, filling in: SCP-666-3-N. He mumbled to himself as he filled out the report, “the dash three instances seem to have no defined structure what-so-ever, with continued-”
“Ooh, what are you writing?” Nifty asked, attempting to stand on her toes to gaze over the clipboard at Collins’s reports. Collins stood up, lifting the documents well out of range of the small demon, “Hey!” She huffed, tapping her foot, letting go of Keekee as she put her hands on her hips.
“I’m sorry, but these-” Collins shook the notes in his hand for emphasis, “are classified, for approved researcher’s eyes only.” He firmly clasped them with both hands, ensuring that what she did with the cat wouldn’t happen with his notes.
“Now listen mister,” Nifty raised a finger up at Collins, “I am more than qualified to read your little-” A voice called in the distance as Nifty stopped suddenly. “Oh, hold on.” Turning on her heels, she dashed away toward the far side of the hall to where Charlie had called and was waiting for her. The two spoke for a minute before Nifty darted off to another room, as Charlie wandered her way over.
“Sorry, I hope she wasn’t bothering you guys.”
“Peace and quiet at last,” Ward remarked half jokingly.
“No, she was hardly a problem at all.” Collins reaffirmed. “Anyways, Sergeant, what is our plan to get out of here?” He asked, turning his attention toward Butler.
“Well-“ Butler began with reluctance in his voice, “our options are limited. Chances are that the foundation will eventually open another portal, but we don’t know when or where that will be. Meaning all we could do is go back to our original exfil point, sit there and hope. Or-“ Butler shifted his gaze toward Charlie, “we find someone down here, who’s willing to help us, and can create a portal for us.”
Ward and Collins both turned toward Charlie, “So, princess…” Collins paused for a moment, “I hate to ask for more, but we are a bit desperate.”
“No, no, it’s fine, of course I’ll help.” Charlie responded cheerily as always, “Unfortunately I haven’t learned how to do that yet, my dad would be able to but I don’t know how willing he’d be.” Charlie paused, scratching her head, as she thought for a moment, “Oh, I think I know someone though. If you leave pentagram city and keep going for a while, on the outskirts of the Imp city there are a couple manors belonging to the Goetia family. One of them is owned by a prince named Stolas.”
Collins couldn’t help but mentally chuckle at the irony, of course Collins was more than familiar with SCP-666-3-SG between the footage recovered after D.H.O.R.K.S. was shut down and the interview with SCP-666-1-B. Revealing that information to Charlie however, beyond being an infringement to the foundation, might not be the best idea. Charlie had already been an invaluable resource, one he could not risk compromising.
“The Goatias and Stolas have been fairly close to my family for a while.” Charlie continued, “Stolas has always been a gentile soul, I'm sure that if you tell him I sent you that he’d be willing to help.”
“Hmm, if it’s our only option-“
A soft ding echoed through the hall, as the whirr of the elevator door opening soon followed. Out marched Pastor Arno, now wearing a purple stole over his shoulders, followed by Adela and the last of the missing MTF squad members.
“-Ah, I thought we were a few men short Sergeant.”
“It’s Sunday, doc.” Butler explained simply.
“So?”
“Dash nine requested to conduct mass, I gave him and all who wished to participate permission.” Butler explained.
“Huh…?” Collins hummed, “you’d think that conducting mass, or any religious ceremonies, in Hell would be considered as some sort of blasphemy?”
Collins’s note, however, fell on deaf ears, as Charlie charged past him and raced up to Arno. The pastor took a step back in shock, as Charlie stopped just centimeters from him, “Are you really a priest?” She asked hyperly.
Arno took a second step back, briefly looking over to Butler and Dr. Collins, like a child looking for approval. Neither of them did anything, as Arno looked back to Charlie, who was still all hyper and broadly smiling. “Um, I-I am a pastor, yes.” Arno stuttered, straightening himself out.
“Oh my god really? So you can, like, waive your hand and absolve people of their sins?”
“Not quite,” The pastor, overcoming his initial surprise, continued professionally, “there is much more of a process to it.”
“Have you never met a priest before?” Collins asked from behind her.
Charlie turned, “No, I don’t know why but I’ve never even seen one down here, not in my hundreds of years.”
“Huh, interesting.” Collins spent a minute writing down some notes before looking back up again. “Anyways, princess, as much as I believe dash nine would love to discuss the Ten Commandments, if it is as far as you say it is, then, if you don’t mind, we really should get on our way.”
“You can’t walk it, it would take days.” Charlie intervenes, “I can get my limo to drive you guys, it’s the least I can do.”
Collins looked over to Butler, “it’s your call Sergeant.”
Butler scratched at his chin, as he thought about it for a moment, “for ten men plus equipment, we’d be squeezing in pretty tight, besides I don’t want them getting too comfortable. Leave the last couple kilometers to us.” He proposed.
Collins took an extra moment of consideration on top of Butler’s. It was smart, considering -3-SG’s acquaintance with the captured -1 and -2 instances, it might already know of their abduction, and could lead to hostility. Whether or not they could actually defeat the entity was another question, regardless, if the familial connection is true, then it’d be best to keep Charlie at bay. A friendly relationship with a high ranking SCP-666 entity can’t be squandered. If the Sergeant suggested something so conveniently protective of foundation interest, then perhaps the Sergeant knew more than he’s supposed to. That, however, could wait to be dealt with later. “Very well,” Collins agreed, “thank you, princess, the drive would be appreciated.”
Without another word, Charlie clapped her hands, as almost instantly two figures flew out of oblivion. Appearing as two small goats, with wings, wearing blazers, occasionally flitting out forked tongues, like snakes, the figures hovered through the hall as they appeared to come out of nowhere. Floating toward Charlie, their wings flapped as they hovered in front of her. “Razzle, Dazzle, would you please bring the car out front?” She asked, before the two goats nodded simultaneously. “Thank you.” Charlie mentioned, as they fluttered off in a different direction. “There, all settled.”
Collins quickly scribbled down an entry for SCP-666-1-R+D. “Sergeant, you wanna gather your men?”
Razzle and Dazzle, on their way to get the car, passed by Vaggie as she just entered the room. Scanning the room with her good eye, noting the collection of soldiers scattered around the hall. “What’d I miss?”
“Oh, they were just about to leave,” Charlie answered, “I’m gonna have Razzle and Dazzle drive them to Stolas, who can help them get back to Earth and everything will be solved.” She explained.
“Oh, great.” Vaggie added, “did you tell him about the thing?” She asked in a hushed tone, almost whispering.
“What thing?” Charlie questioned. Vaggie darted her eyes to the side a couple of times in the direction of the couch, where Alastor sat. “Ooooh,” Charlie turned back to Dr. Collins, “Doctor, do you mind if we pull you aside for a minute?”
“Of course,” Collins followed the girls a few feet away from the other soldiers, as Butler was organizing the rest of the squad.
“Doctor, it’s important we tell you this in case something happens.” Charlie began, “We noticed that you were talking a lot to Alastor yesterday night, and, well…”
“He’s extremely dangerous,” Vaggie continued, “to Hell he’s known as the Radio Demon, he’s one of the most powerful Demons down here, and can’t be trusted. He’s an extortionist, a deal maker, under no circumstances can any one of you make any sort of agreement with him.” She warned, though no fear was reflected through Collins’s gas mask, instead he was just writing down more notes.
In Collins’s mind the combination of the words: powerful and Demon just made SCP-666-3-A a prime containment and test subject. “I appreciate the warning, however anything like that would violate foundation contact procedures, besides we have contingency plans for when anything like that happens.” He excused, though the girls looked unconvinced, he sighed, “Don’t worry we’ll be careful.”
“Just stay safe.” Charlie added.
“Foundation’s never heard of the word ‘safe’.” Collins mumbled as he returned to the rest of the squad.
Alphonse jumped off the counter of the bar as he followed Sandman toward the Sergeant and the rest of the squad. On their way they passed a red couch with ornate tooth-like elements embedded into the cushions. On which sat the brightly dressed Demon who had attacked them just hours earlier. Alphonse could tell that Sandman tensed in front of him as he passed by the figure, however he remained unaccosted.
As Alphonse passed by Alastor he heard, “Où allez-vous?” Being called over his shoulder. The French was far from perfect, being very American in pronunciation, though it sounded fluent. Alphonse stopped, cautiously turning toward the Demon, his fiery eyes glaring at him.
Calming himself, Alphonse responded, “Je ne peux pas te le dire.” His accent became more natural as he spoke his first language.
“Pourquoi pas?" Alastor asked.
Thinking on his feet, Alphonse quickly thought of a response to throw off and maybe amuse the Demon, “Parce que je ne veux pas que le père de la couturière me trouve.”
In far greater success than he could have ever hoped, Alastor started laughing, a grand uproarious laugh. Alphonse briefly chuckled, though the mood soon soured, as Alastor kept laughing and laughing. The joke was stupid, and anyone who laughed at it that much had to be insane. Alphonse silently resigned himself as he continued walking. He heard Alastor call from behind him, “Bon voyages!” As he just kept walking.
By the time that he joined the rest of the squad, they’d already started to file out of the building, with Dr. Collins waiting beside the door for them to leave. “What did you tell him?” Collins asked stopping the medic. Alphonse sighed, stepped aside, and started to explain, “He asked where I was going, I told him I could not tell him that, he asked why, and I told him a stupid joke. That I didn’t want the seamstress's father to find me.” Collins was buisy writing down notes as the he explained, “it was a stupid joke.” He clarified.
“Well, not according to him.” Collins pointed his pen toward Alastor, who had simply returned to his newspaper, “Regardless, please join the others, dash four.”
Alphonse complied as he stepped outside.
Before Ward followed after the medic she briefly stopped, noting Vaggie was standing nearby. “Hey!” She called, to which Vaggie raised a brow in surprise. “No hard feelings about the gun, right?” Ward asked, brandishing her shotgun against her shoulder.
“Um, no.” Vaggie responded, scrunching her face in confusion, why?”
“Just cause,” she answered, “figure we’ll be seeing one and other much more.” She explained, before stepping through the door. Marching down the cobblestone driveway, a short distance away a long white limousine pulled up with a silver grill and fully black tuned windows. The doors appeared to swing open almost on its own, as Butler quickly organized the soldiers piling in with their equipment.
Charlie was marching up to the car side by side with Dr. Collins, both patiently waiting as the rest of the squad entered. With Butler entering last, it was Collins’s turn to squeeze inside.
“Good luck, Doctor.” Charlie called as she waived Collins off.
“Thank you, I’m sure we’ll see each other much more in future. Good day, princess Charlie.” With that Collins entered the limo and shut the door before the car zoomed out of the driveway.
Unlike their approach to the hotel, the car drove straight through the city center. The windows appeared almost opaque, meaning the team had nothing to worry about. Gazing out the window, Collins hardly minded the tight squeeze alongside the nine other men plus all the equipment, as he remained mesmerized for a while by the cityscape outside, scribbling down notes about everything he saw. One thing of particular note was the large amount of signs advertising SCP-666-3-AD ‘Angel Dust’, particularly his less than savory activities. Though there weren’t quite as many, there were plenty advertising another ‘entertainer’ called Verosika Mayday. Appearing to be a bright pink Imp, with white hair and wings, Collins recalled the security footage Dr. Garcia had shown him on the first day she gave him this assignment. The resemblance to the supposed ‘human singer’ was uncanny.
“Geese, you see how fancy this thing is?” Adela asked, Bearily ten minutes after leaving, “something this fancy’s gotta have booze in it somewhere.” She declared, beginning to maneuver around the other nine squad members as she embarked on her search.
While Adela was on her search, Ward spoke up as well, “Doc, you mind telling me something?”
“Shoot Corporal.” Collins granted, though he remained gazing out the window taking notes.
“Why did you keep calling the girl ‘princess’?” She asked, as the crowded limo suddenly seemed to go quiet, as Collins turned toward Ward. “Unless it was just you being creepy.”
Collins sighed, “Ordinarily, I would say that none of you have the clearance to know. However, most of you will inevitably find out anyway whenever we eventually return, but I’m sure you all know the consequences if you tell anyone.” Collins warned, as the atmosphere somehow seemed to become denser and quieter than it already was. Collins continued, “I kept calling SCP-666-4-CM princess because she is one. According to her, she is the daughter of a being who I’ve designated SCP-666-4-LM, the king of Hell — she is Lucifer’s daughter.”
The car remained silent for a long while, it seemed everybody was thinking the exact same thing.
“Wait.” Adela suddenly stopped her search for liquor, “so you’re telling me that scrawny smiley fuck in the white suit on the painting, that’s Lucifer?” She asked, to which Collins merely nodded, she chuckled, “Well shit, if that’s the king of all Demons, then we’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“What do you make of this, father?” Sandman asked, nodding his head in pastor Arno’s direction. “Lucifer's daughter seemed mighty interested in you.”
With his hands clenched together in his lap, the pastor remained quiet for a while, as he uneasily adjusted in his seat. “It was… an enlightening experience.” He replied in a cryptic stoic manner, as expected.
For the last couple hours of the journey the car remained largely silent, some scattered small conversations but nothing all-encompassing. Collins resigned himself to taking notes on everything they passed, with strange rurality taking over once they left Pentagram city. Initially they saw significant infrastructure and dense urban sprawl, gradually giving way to industry and factories, to the dilapidated outskirts of the city, before finally reaching total rural land: for a brief few minutes even passing by what appeared to be literal corn fields. Eventually, however, the skyline of another large city appeared in the distance, and true to Butler’s word, the car halted just as a large sprawling manor appeared on the horizon, and they marched the rest of the way.
Boots tread the ground, as the squad continued along the road. Surprisingly few cars passed, only a handful, all with ornate silver and gold elements alongside recently waxed surfaces. Then again alongside the trimmed hedges and large manors, that wasn’t surprising. After a bit under an hour of marching, the group arrived before a brightly polished gold gate, connected to two large white walls topped by hedges, closing off a gravel driveway.
A grey metal box with a speaker and red button was hung on the side of the wall. The soldiers dawdled around, taking secure positions along the sides of the walls and gate, as Collins moved up to the speaker. Pressed in the button, he spoke, “Hello, we’re here to speak to prince Stolas Goetia.”
The speaker rumbled with white noise for a few seconds before a voice responded, “Sorry the prince is busy, if you’d like I can leave a message. Otherwise please return at a later time. Thank you.”
Collins pressed the button again, “We’re associates of Charlotte Morningstar, I’m afraid it’s an emergency.”
White noise ceased almost immediately, though the voice on the other end waited a moment to respond. Sighing deftly it said, “Hold on I’ll be out in a moment.”
Such, Collins left the speaker as he stood before the gate. After only five, or so, minutes a small red imp dressed in suspenders and slacks with white hair and sideburns, marched out with his nose turned up high. Stopping roughly a meter from the gate the imp cocked his head, “you’re not with the Morningstars?”
Before the imp could say anything else, Ward and Adela pointed the muzzles of their weapons through the bars of the gate, down at the small imp. “Open the gate little man.” Butler ordered.
Meekly gazing up with wide eyes, the Imp tried to hide his head within his shoulders, as he inched his way to the side and pressed a button on the other side of the wall. A hollow buzz sounded, as the gates creeped open electronically.
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After minutes, even if it was just because they held him at gunpoint, the Imp had led them inside as the band of soldiers followed him through the halls. Passing through ordained marble and gold hallway after ordained marble and gold hallway. Large snapping plants sat in pots decked across the halls, alongside royal purple draperies and large complex oil paintings of various bird-like Demons.
Security in the manor was minimal, almost laughable. The squad had formed into a diamond shape, with Collins and Butler in the center, as the rest of the squad members kept eyes in all directions, keeping their weapons pointed while the Imp guided. Not that there was anything to protect them from however, they occasionally passed some typical bodyguard-esc Demons, dressed in black suits and glasses, most were dog-like. So far they had passed a dozen at most, usually in pairs. However they were little more than a palace guard, meant to keep away drunks and look intimidating, as soon as they met any proper force, like the MTFs, they gladly stood aside. Letting the squad proceed through the manor without resistance.
Gradually they began to approach a large room, with couches and chairs liberally scattered around, with the room itself having a much warmer aesthetic in general. However, as they approached they also began to hear voices, discussing and yelling. Halting at the entrance of the room, Collins cursed himself.
Standing center point was SCP-666-3-SG, the owl-like Demon dressed in typical royal gowns. Alongside him was SCP-666-1-B -1-MI -1-MO and -2-L were also all present within the room, all still dressed in their orange D-class jumpsuits the foundation had issued them. -1-B also held the purple bound, gold embroidered, Grimoir.
“You have to understand, I needed to go on and get my daughter back.” Blitzo argued, defensively.
“Dammit, Blitz,” Stolas cursed, “I told you they were off limits. If you just told me what happened, I could have fixed this, but now-“ Stolas’s jaw dropped as he suddenly noticed the full band of soldiers, brightly and proudly brandishing the SCP logo on their uniforms, standing in the entrance of the room. Soon the other entities noticed as well as they all began to face the soldiers.
Stolas, Blitzo, Moxxie, Millie, and Loona stared with shock and anger, as Collins could do nothing but stare back, like a deer in headlights. In all that only one word came to mind, “Shit.”
Notes:
I don’t have much to say after this one, except that it was fun to write.
I don’t know when the next chapter will be ready, I’ll just post it when it’s ready, which may be next weekend or slightly thereafter.
Regardless, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and I’ll gladly take any feedback you have to give.
Chapter 9: Let’s Try that Again
Summary:
Dr. Collins has left on his mission to explore SCP-666 personally, alongside a squad of MTFs, after the many failed attempts at using D-class personnel. With Dr. Collins gone, the foundation is forced to face an unexpected enemy, on more than one front.
Notes:
Did you miss me?
Cause I’m back. Sorry for how long this chapter took, it was kinda unexpected. It actually works out in a funny parallel to chapter 8, which was supposed to be two chapters but is now just one, chapter 9 was supposed to be one chapter but i’ve now split them into two, so the second half is now going to be chapter 10 (If I continued with my original plan, the chapter would’ve been way too long and it would take another week or two to write.)
Anyway, I thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 9: Let’s Try that Again
Machines blinked and whirred within the dark room, with the only illumination coming in the form of blue light Emanating from the large walls of monitors situated on seven of the eight sides of the octagonal room. On display before the two security officers, who sat in the very center surrounded by consoles, was every single entity in the light containment area of Site-59. Including its most recent additions: the four SCP-666 entities.
One of the officers kicked his legs up onto one of the consoles, “Welp, another boring day of watching freaks on TV.” Containment breaches had become a boogie man of sorts, something that everyone feared yet few experienced, even then most were minor, however people only ever talk about the disastrous ones, like Site-13. Since Site-59 experienced a minor one only a week ago, chances were the next one was still a long ways away.
“Whatever man,” the second officer rose from his seat, “I gotta take a piss, keep an eye on mine, will you.” The man requested as he continued toward the room’s single security door.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
Swiping his card, the security door slid aside, disappearing into the wall. “Yea, yea, whatever Monroe.” The man cursed before exiting the room.
Officer Monroe remained slouched back in his seat, his arms behind his head, and his feet resting on a console. Even if anything were to happen, he was in one of the most secure rooms in the entire site, worse comes to worse he’d just hunker down and wait for rescue.
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Meanwhile, another security door slid open, one into an equally dark room. A figure entered, glowing lights from computers barely outlining the edges of a long coat, as the figure moved through the darkness. Stepping with delicate, cautious steps, as they made their way toward the dark side of the room, where a large machine, with a single black monitor, waited.
——————
: Please enter command∎
——————
The hidden figure began typing on the small attached keyboard rapidly, as if their life depended on it.
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://override directive: Terminate system function
∎
: Request requires LEVEL 4 clearance, please swipe clearance card below ∎
://**********
∎
: WARNING
Deactivating the SITE-59 facility wide Scranton Reality Anchor system (SRA) will allow all entities contained, or otherwise, to bend projected reality to their needs and may result in catastrophic damage. Any individual who activates this directive without site administrator or higher permission will be Terminated. Do you wish to proceed? ∎
:// Yes
∎
: Override accepted, system terminating ∎
——————
The large machine’s humming began to fade before ceasing all together, as the figure rapidly made their exit.
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Flashing a bright red, officer Monroe was alerted back to attention, snapping his feet back down to the floor as he hunched forward, the large emergency light flashing in the corner of the room. Snapping to attention, Monroe began scanning the monitors, looking for the problem the system was alerting him to.
Finally he found that four monitors to the edge of one of the walls had reverted to static. Monroe quickly picked up the phone from the consol before him, a direct line to central command. “Uh, central? This is officer Monroe in low containment security, we may have a problem. Cameras two-fifteen through two-nineteen just went dark.”
A voice responded on the other end, “Understood, please provide which entities were being monitored by those cameras.”
“Uh, yea-“ Monroe rolled his chair over to his computer as he rapidly typed away for the answer. “Central, SCPs six-six-six dash one B, MI, MO, and dash two L were monitored by those cameras.”
“Roger, hang tight, we’re sending extra security and mechanics to check out the problem.”
“Understood cent-“ as Monroe spoke, he noticed a fifth camera just above the other four changed to static. Then a sixth just below the original four. Then a seventh and eight, before a ninth and tenth. Before more and more changed, in a wave of static, every single monitor on all seven walls of the chamber suddenly changed to static. Monroe rubbed his eyes, making sure he really saw what he saw. “Central, every camera in light containment just went dark.”
“Please clarify.”
“Clarify?” Monroe scoffed, standing up from his chair as he scanned over every monitor in the room once again. “I’m telling you that every monitor, from one-fifty-six to two-twent-four, is displaying nothing but static.” Monroe waited, though now he was only met with the dial tone coming from the other end of the phone. “Central?”
As the static continued to flow from the phone, Monroe’s eyes darted to the central monitor on the wall in front of him. One monitor changed, surrounded by hundreds of others displaying nothing but static, now displaying a black screen. In a red glow, the outline of an owl with fiery eyes stared directly back at the security officer. Within the blink of an eye the monitor beside it changed, displaying the same image, before another monitor changed, and another, and another. Monroe remained frozen as he could do nothing but watch as every single monitor changed to display the red outline of the owl.
Snapping out of his fear, Monroe reached under his terminal, frantically pressing the panic button underneath it. “Central!” He yelled into the phone, “We have a containment breach imminent! A containment breach is-”
Before the officer could finish his sentence, a viscous goo shot out of the monitor, completely void of color almost like a black-hole bending space. Shooting toward Monroe, fast as a bullet, the goo lashed onto him, pooling into his mouth as he tried and failed to scream. The security officer’s eyes rolled back into his skull, as the same black liquid began to pour from his eyes. Finally Monroe went limp, collapsing to the floor as the phone fell beside him.
As the dead officer lay there, the goo gradually began to gather itself, forming into a puddle beside the corpse. Forming upward, it began to sculpt into the shape of a tall figure, before finally morphing into a tall owl demon, with four blood red eyes, wearing a tophat, waistcoat, and cape.
For a second the room was engulfed in darkness, as the ceiling lights shut off. Light returned in the form of bright red emergency warning lights blaring across the room.
Stolas covered his eyes, acknowledging his job just became much harder, “dammit,” he murmured, uncovering his eyes he noticed the still open computer belonging to the dead officer. “Alright Blitzy, let’s see where you are.” He moved over to the computer, bending down to read it he found the file labeled: SCP-666-1-B .
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SCP-666-1-B ‘Blitzo’
Small Demon-like entity originating from SCP-666.
Containment:
Light containment wing, cell C-37
Material:
All items belonging to the SCP-666 entities are being housed in security locker 327.
——————
Stolas reared back from the computer, just in time to hear the security door behind him swoop open. “Shit, Monroe, we-“ Stolas turned to be met with another security officer, dressed the same as the one laying dead on the floor, staring at him wide-eyed. Quickly the man snapped his hands to the pistol, holstered at his side, attempting to draw it. Stolas’s eyes flashed blindingly, the man stood completely still, as the light dissipated it became clear that the man had turned to stone, stuck in the middle of drawing his weapon.
Stolas moved around the statue, into the corridor, “Alright, I’m coming for you Blitzy.” He stated under his breath, before continuing.
Outside the security room, the rest of the site was no different, as the usually bright white and sterile corridors were bathed in red emergency lights. Stolas moved carefully dodging people wherever he could.
He came up to a security station, its lone pair of guards met the same fate as the security officers, adding another pair of statues to the collection. A large sign atop the checkpoint read: Containment Level 1. Large security doors prevented him from continuing, card readers were mounted on the walls beside each door. Not that these would keep him at bay. Raising his hand, the door illuminated in a purple aura, swathing his hand to the side, Stolas expected it to just slide open. In actuality, the door creaked open just a couple centimeters, resisting more than he expected. Using his other hand to assist, the door finally gave way and opened fully. Stolas moved forward, ducking to clear the frame with his tophat, as he continued his search.
Searching relentlessly, Stolas continued, finally finding containment block C. Speeding down the halls, reading off the cell numbers as he went: C-16, C-17, C-18. As he rounded a corner, he was met with something he couldn’t afford right now.
Around the corner, in the middle of the hallway he needed to go down, was half a platoon of white-clad security, dressed up in body armor, carrying heavier equipment than the others he’d faced so far. They were escorting a selection of scientists wearing lab coats and engineers in jumpsuits and hard-hats. They quickly took note of the lone Demon, with the soldiers taking fighting stances.
Darting forward, Stolas dematerialized, taking the form of a metamorphic black blob, with the vague red outline of an owl. Screeching as it flew forward, the first guard hardly had time to react, as the owl bit down on his neck, tearing at it like a rabid dog, before throwing the man aside.
In a brazen panic many of the scientists and engineers ran off and fled, while the guards tried to maintain a fighting withdrawal, firing everything they had, attempting to create distance. The firing of rifles, caused Stolas to quickly move on to the next man, producing a set of claws with which he slashed the man to ribbons. Another guard got around to his side, to which stolas hacked his wing toward him, crushing the man into the wall, leaving a red smear before he collapsed. The retreating soldiers grew frantic, firing off panicked shots, as Stolas continued to move through them. Cutting down the next with such a strike from his claws the man was cut in half. Quickly he dashed toward another, piercing the guard with his beak before throwing him at another, trapping the other man, as Stolas moved over and bit his head off.
Losing faith quickly, a handful of the soldiers fled, as the rest began to fight more desperately, as it seemed that the owl just absorbed bullet after bullet. Stolas quickly moved through the rest, slashing, biting, and crushing, leaving six more dead, before the last few finally turned and fled. On their way out the last few soldiers knocked over another figure, a young girl, in her mid to late twenties, wearing a lab coat. She fell on her back, quickly scrambling away, as another lab coated man rushed to her aid, carrying a cat-crate. However Stolas rapidly gained on her, causing the younger man to quickly turn and flee. In last minute desperation the girl grabbed a gun from one of the fallen guards pointing it up at the Demon, she pulled the trigger. All that the weapon let out was a metallic click, tossing it aside, the woman curled up, hiding her face in her arms as she prepared for the inevitable.
Stolas advanced on the girl, hovering over her, watching her as she cowered beneath him. In the end, he couldn’t waste time nor was it worth the energy. Stolas huffed, moving away from the girl, the dark owl gradually reformed into Stolas’s normal form, now slightly bloodied, with scuffs, scrapes, and tears across his clothes.
“Y-you’re one of them!” The girl whimpered, scampering off to the side, taking cover against the wall.
Stolas ignored her, as he hurriedly continued along his path, leaving her behind in a corridor of corpses, with blood and bullet holes covering the walls.
With the Demon gone, the girl cautiously came out from her cover, gazing with wide eyes at the carnage the owl had left behind. Torn up corpses littered the hall, with some of the security personnel hardly being recognizable as people anymore, just piles of bloody meat and organs. Steeling herself, she crawled up to one of the corpses, she reached over and snatched a pistol from the dead guard’s belt. Checking it for bullets, she finally rose to her feet. She looked to both sides of the corridor, on one side blood and gore, on the other the path the Demon went, who by now was already out of view.
“Taylor!” She called out, hoping for a response, Cautiously she proceeded forward, following after the Demon. A sudden slam sounded beside her, the woman turned and pointed the pistol toward the sound,that being at Taylor, still holding the cat-crate, hiding in a broom-closet, holding his free hand up. “Dammit,” the woman lowered her gun, “Taylor, get to the book, make sure it’s still there. I’m gonna go get some MTFs down here.”
“B-but, what… what about the-” The man stuttered.
“Go!” Was the girl’s last order before she ran off down the corridor.
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Finally something exciting was happening and he wasn’t even involved, yelling through the door, making faces and flipping off the cameras all got boring after the first couple days. He’d had nothing to do for the last week except stare at the same four white walls all day, and eat the shit food he was served. He had no contact with any of his employees or anyone else apart from the occasional guard or scientist. Since the lights had turned red, Blitzo hadn’t been able to get any sort of response from outside, no matter how hard he screamed or bagged on the door. Now he had just resigned himself to sitting on his bed in the small cell. Last he remembered something like this happening, was when he came to rescue Loona, now he could only hope that it was a certain someone doing the same for him.
His hopes, and potential fears, were about to be confirmed, as a sharp creaking came from the armored door. Coming to the edge of his bed, Blitzo watched as the door was shoved open with such force it spooled out a wave of smoke, from the machinery behind the door being crushed. Blitzo averted his eyes from the smoke, however kept watching the best he could. From the smoke stepped a figure, tall and lanky, Stolas marched into the cell.
“Hello, Blitzy.” He greeted, appearing tired with bags under his eyes, and scrapes, cuts, and bruises covering much of the owl’s exposed skin, yet he smiled optimistically nonetheless.
“Stolas…” Blitzo reacted, almost mesmerized by the owl's presence. Blitzo shook his head, returning with a frown, “What took you so long?”
Stolas’s smile soon disappeared, “Sorry it appears I’ve got the wrong room, I’m here for the book.” He started coldly, before turning and threatening to walk off.
“Wait, no, Stolas - I’m sorry.” Blitz pleaded jumping off the bed and after Stolas, who stopped and turned back. Blitzo hung his head, “I was scared, I was starting to think that you weren’t going to come, because of how I’ve been recently.”
Stolas crouched down to the level of the Imp, “Don’t worry Blitz, I would never abandon you.” Stolas affirmed, smiling once more, as Blitzo jumped up to hug the tall Demon. “Now let’s go find your friends.” He started releasing Blitzo, as he stepped back into the hallway. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I had my rear firmly chewed off by both my family and Lucifer for losing the book. I tried several times, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t create a portal to this place. I don’t know why, but it worked today.”
“Honestly, at this point, I’m just glad you’re here.” The Imp stated as he followed him out, “C’mon this way, they got sloppy one time and I saw them take Millie here.” Blitzo stated, running to another cell down the corridor.
Blitzo stopped before another cell’s door, harsh thuds emerging from the other side. Blitzo stands aside as he makes room for Stolas. Working his magic, the door illuminated in the same purple aura as before, with a swipe from his hands, the door was thrown aside as it smashed into the wall. Blitzo and Stolas had meere moments to doge as a small bright red figure came charging out.
“Give me back my husband, you damn military assholes!” Millie screamed, as she charged straight across the hall toward another cell opposing hers. Following what appeared to be blind rage, she immediately began banning on the cell door. Punching with such force and conviction indicated that she believed she could force the half-meter thick, bulletproof, armored, steel door open with her bare hands.
Stolas and Blitzo stared at her as she did, “Should, we-?” Stolas attempted to interject.
“Are you kidding me?” Blitzo interrupted, “This is the best entertainment I’ve had in weeks.”
Stolas entertained the Imp for a few moments longer before finally becoming tired of it, raising his hand, the cell door ignited in a purple aura once more, before the armored door slammed out of the way. In Millie’s blind rage, she continued punching as the door slid open, directly hitting the figure on the other side in the face. Noting the sudden change, Millie backed away, finally noticing Moxxie standing in the doorway, clutching at his cheek.
“Oh my hells!” Millie covered her mouth in shock, before dashing forward to hug the other Imp, “I’m sorry Mox, I didn’t mean it, I was seeing red.”
Moxxie patted her on the back a couple times, “Don’t worry about it, I hardly felt it.” He reassured, a smile on his face, despite the large purple bruise already spreading across his cheek. His mood soon soured for the worse, however, as he suddenly noticed Blitzo and Stolas’s presence. “Ugh, hello, sir and prince.”
Millie turned suddenly, “Hey Blitz,” she greeted in a southern drawl, “Stolas, you here bust us out?”
“We still gotta find Loona first,” Blitzo urged, “where could she be?” He added, scratching his chin as his eyes darted toward the floor in thought.
“She’s in there, sir.” Moxxie stated, unimpressed, simply pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the cell directly beside his. “They put us all together, It’s the same cell she was in the first time.”
Seconds after Stolas threw the door open, Blitzo rushed inside in a frantic search, “Ooh, Loonie!” They heard him call out from the smoke. As the smoke cleared, it revealed Blitzo tightly hugging the wolf, looking as though he might cry, “Thank Satan you're ok.”
“Please lock me back up.” Loona requested, balling her firsts as she kept herself from punching the Imp. She only breathed a sigh of relief after Blitzo wiped away his tears and finally let go.
“Alright,” Blitzo started, “Now where did they take our stuff?”
“Locker 327,” Stolas stated matter of factly.
“Which is where?” Blitzo asked. Stolas looked at the floor and placed a finger on his chin, growing his brow, when he finally looked back up at Blitzo, he just shrugged his shoulders. “Fucking great.”
“Well, if we’re to make an educated guess,” Moxxie intervened, “Since they put all of us together in cells beside one another, they likely did the same for our stuff. If they’re that organized, then they probably put our stuff in a locker in this same section of the building.”
“So what, you want us to just wander the halls looking for this stuff?” Blitzo questioned rhetorically, to which no one responded. “Hmpf, if we don’t have any other option, I guess,” he grumbled. “Let’s do this quick though, who knows how long it’ll be before they have a small army after us.”
Stolas led them further down the corridors, deeper into the facility, searching for wherever the foundation was hiding the Grimoire. All the while the presence of security and soldiers became more and more prominent, as it seemed a handful of them were waiting around every corner. Without their equipment, the Imps were almost useless in a fight, helping out wherever they could, in the end most of the dispatching was left to Stolas. It was beginning to show, as at every engagement Stolas’s movements became more sluggish, needing more and more time to recover. The fighting was weighing on the Demon, they couldn’t do this forever.
Hopes began to look high however, as they dashed to the end of a corridor they were met with what appeared to be office doors. Each door had a plaque, the one they approached read: Anomalous Belongings Containment Locker 319. Rapidly moving down the corridor, they sprinted toward Locker 327, in the near-distance.
A sharp crackling static emerged over the faculty loudspeakers, “Mobile Task Force unit Epsilon-11, designated Nine-Tailed Fox, has entered the facility. All remaining survivors are advised to stay in the evacuation shelter, or any other safe area until the unit has secured the Facility. We'll start escorting personnel out When the escaped SCP´s have been re-contained."
“That can’t be good…” Moxxie mumbled, though he went ignored, as victory seemed so near.
“Alright, Stolas, blow this puppy open so we can get the hell out of here.” Blitzo called, as they arrived before the locker.
Stolas strained himself as he used his magic, pulling the door off its hinges, he let it flop onto the floor rather than do anything dramatic. Hitting the floor with a hefty thunk, it became clear that despite the door’s appearance they were still armored. The entrance to the locker was now wide open as the Imps dashed inside.
In reality the ‘secure locker’ was little more than a broom closet with a bulletproof door. Shelves lining the walls, with the Imps possessions neatly categorized and spread across them. Scrambling overtop of one another to reclaim their possessions, the Imps were frantic, while Stolas took some more cautious observation. Alongside the Imps clothes were all their weapons, Millie’s axes and knives, Moxxie’s many guns, Loona’s phone, and Blitzo’s flintlock, however one thing was still missing.
“The book’s not here!”
“What!” Millie reacted, as distressed face quickly flooded over everyone, “Are you sure? Maybe we missed it.”
“How could I be so foolish!” Stolas reacted, “I should’ve known that they’d put something as powerful as the Grimoire somewhere more secure.”
Blitzo grinned slyly, “I say we kidnap the first egghead we see and force him to take us to it.” He suggested.
“No, it wouldn’t work,” Stolas sighed, “From what little even I know about these people, they’d sooner die than reveal anything.” Having lost all hope, Stolas stared glumly at the floor, “I hate to say it but, we’re royaly fucked.”
“Wait, no!” Blitzo countered, “When they were interrogating me, the guy called it SCP-666-G, just like they’ve been calling us.”
“Meaning that it’s probably in its own cell, back where we came from.” Stolas finished.
“Then let’s begin our search there, and look for a specialized chamber just for it.” Moxxie finished, as the whole group, now with their weapons and clothes required, rapidly sped back down the way they came.
Sprinting as fast as his little legs would let him, Moxxie tried his best to keep up with the others, he still lagged behind, but still kept within distance. With his guns tucked in his jumpsuit and clothes clutched against his chest, he continued sprinting after the others. Yet something felt off at every second, as if something was right next to him at all times. At this point however, it was more important to get out of there, so he steeled himself and ignored the feeling.
For the briefest couple of seconds, the lights in the corridor shut off, plunging the hall into darkness. Moxxie stopped instinctively, alongside everyone else as the sounds of footsteps disappeared. Within a moment the lights came back on, casting their red glow across the hall once more. Everyone was still where they should be, yet he still felt the urge that something was wrong. Finally succumbing to curiosity, Moxxie turned and looked over his shoulder.
His eyes shot open, behind him was a tall, black, featureless mannequin, with segmented limbs, lurching over him as if it was a predator about to pounce on its prey. Yelping sharply, Moxie shut his eyes and dashed in the opposite direction as fast as he could, bargaining past the other Imps, only stopping once Millie caught him in her arms.
“Mox, What’s wrong?” She asked. Moxxie attempted to speak, but sounded more like a vacuum cleaner choking on dust rather than anything legible, heaving a whimpering as he tried to calm himself. Millie and the other Imps gazed back into the hallway where he’d come from, however, it was completely barren, white and tidy like it always was. “It’s alright, see there’s nothing.”
Seeming to overcome his shock, Moxxie rubbed his eyes, as if the being would reappear with the simple action. He almost seemed to accept the fantasy that it was merely his eyes playing tricks on him. He looked back to Millie, for some sort of affirmation, though found the exact opposite. As Millie’s face came back into view it was accompanied by the completely blank slate of a face peering over her shoulder, seemingly staring directly into Moxie's soul, despite the fact that it didn’t have any eyes. Sucking in a gasp, Moxxie's face shriveled as if he’d just sucked on a lemon as his eyes grew wide with disparity, instead of even trying to speak he merely pointed at the figure. Gradually the same faces of dread that Moxxie displayed spread across the others like a plague of dread.
As Millie turned toward the figure, it stared straight through her, completely motionless, soon her expression matched that of her husband. Without a second glance, Millie grabbed Moxxie and dashed straight past the figure, sprinting at mach 10 down the corridor.
“Blast it Stolas!” Blitz ordered, frantically pointing at the figure as he stared up at the owl.
Stolas looked back at Blitzo, “I’m not sure that’s-”
“Guys!” Loona shouted, with Blitzo and Stolas turning to talk to one another, within a blink of her eye the mannequin disappeared, “It’s gone.”
Both Blitz and Stolas looked baffled as they looked back to confirm what Loona had said, the corridor was empty once more. Briefly they looked back at one another, before checking behind themselves- where they were met with the same featureless face, as the figure seemed to almost hover over the two, despite being just average human height.
However the entity still had its intended effect, as Blitzo shouted; “RUN!” and Loona darted off, quickly followed by Stolas and Blitzo, as they traced Millie and Moxxie’s speed and footsteps down the corridor.
Almost too afraid to, the three refused to turn and see if the figure was following them. However a small hope appeared, rapidly approaching was one of the corridor bulkheads, simple automatic sliding steel doors that split up corridors, activated by a simple button mounted to their frame. Having already slid out of the way, the door was open, presumably from Milie and Moxxie. Quickly sprinting through, Loona was on the other side first, quickly followed by Stolas, lastly Blitzo, who punched the button to the door as he passed through, the closing door narrowly grazing his horns as he passed through.
Standing there panting, the three looked frantically in every corner of the new hallway, for any sign of the black teleporting mannequin, yet at last the corridor appeared empty - permanently. Cautiously approaching the door they just came through, Blitzo put his ear against it, closely listening for any sound of the entity moving on the other side. Aside from the buzzing fluorescent lights in the ceiling, it was almost pitch quiet.
Blitzo gave a sigh of relief as he left the door, “seems we lost him,” he stated hopefully, before narrowing his focus and proceeding down the corridor again, “let's find the two lovebirds before they get themselves killed.” Loona and Stolas followed after him.
Practically being dragged by his wife, Moxxie could see behind them that they were no longer being followed. He pulled back against Millie, barely making any impact on the woman’s tremendous strength,yet enough for her to notice and slow down.
“It’s not following us,” Moxxie stated, though received no response. Turning toward Millie, he found that his wife had a curious expression on her face, staring down at something. She crouched down, as Moxxie finally saw what it was, a small round orange teardrop-shaped creature, a single large eye in its center. It stared curiously at the pair of Imps, rolling slightly closer, while still maintaining a firm distance.
Millie looked down at it as if it was a lost puppy, “It’s kinda cute,” she said, admiring the creature. Millie gasped, “can we keep him Mox?” She asked, with pearly puppy-dog eyes.
“Well, I uh, um… I'm not sure it’s-“ Moxxie stuttered, considering all the weird things they’ve encountered in this place plus all the security. A blush grew across his cheeks as he attempted to stall further, as Millie just kept looking at him with those eyes. “… sure-“ he agreed unsurely, finally giving in. What’s the worst it could do? It's just a small blob with an eye.
“Yesss!” Millie turned back toward the creature, “alright, come to mama.” She beckoned, patting her lap, as she tried to encourage the creature over. Rather it seemed to shake and move further away, its expression becoming frightened. “C’mon, we’ll do you no harm.” She said, hoping to comfort the creature as she approached slightly closer. Rather the creature just backed further and further away, eventually culminating in it turning and moving away at full speed down the hallway. Milllie took off after it, “Get back here! I give you my love and you will take it!”
Moxxie was left to observe it all happen, unable to stop them, being left to just follow after them once the chase kicked off.
Despite Millie's immense speed and quick reaction to the creature’s escape, it had a massive head-start appearing meters ahead, and somehow still gaining distance. She kept up with it however, keeping it within her sight even as it swerved back, forth, and around corners, as it seemingly knew exactly where it was going. Occasionally it seemed to almost lose control of itself, swerving out in the middle of corridors, giving Millie some time to Catch up, but never catch it.
With the chase continuing on, Millie watched as it did something strange. They entered a perfectly straight corridor, and suddenly turned ninety degrees right and ran straight into an armored steel door, slamming into it at full force. Appearing stunned or dazed in some way, the creature just sat on the floor after bouncing off the door, unmoving.
Millie had plenty of time to catch up to it, which she rapidly did, swiping up the creature, as she clasped it in both hands. “Gotcha!” She looked at the small creature, despite its full-force impact, it seemed to have suffered no damage whatsoever, however it kept shaking as Millie held it.
A minute later, huffing and puffing with every breath, Moxie caught up to her. In a slow weeze he collapsed to the floor beside her. A few seconds later Blitz, Stolas and Loona also appeared, each exhausted and gasping for air in their own right.
“Good thing…” Blitzo said between gasped breaths, “You had that fat-ass following you Mills, cause… at the rate you’re going, we’d have lost you.” He joked, while Moxxie was still groveling for air on the floor.
“-look-” Moxie croaked, pointing up to a plaque mounted on the wall beside the door, it read: SCP-666-G Object class: Safe .
“Holy, shit!” Blitzo exclaimed,”you guys found it.”
Millie looked at the plaque and then backed down at the creature in her hands, “Awww, He wasn’t running, just leading us to exactly what we needed.” She said, hugging the small creature.
“Alright, almost there, Let's get in there Stolas!” Blitzo announced, loud enough for the sound to echo through the door and into the containment chamber where a young researcher was hiding in the corner.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Talor mumbled, the open cat-crate sitting beside him, “They’re here, god where is she?” Before him SCP-131-B was rolling around in front of the door, looking back and forth between it and the researcher. “You’re looking for your buddy right?” He asked the entity, “Sorry, I don’t know where he is. He shouldn’t have run off when I put you guys down. Right now though, if those things get through the door we’re both fucked.” Just as Taylor finished his sentence, the armored door glowed a purple aura, indicative of all the other doors Stolas had destroyed thus far. Becoming spooked, 131-B dashed across the room and back into the cat-crate that sat beside Taylor. He locked it, wishing that he himself had some sort of refuge from the situation. Lastly, Taylor looked at the pedestal standing in the center of the small containment chamber, the fancy purple and gold demonic book resting upon it, before he heard the metal of the door creak and groan, as it audibly began giving way to the Demon’s power.
Finally smoke burst out of the mechanism, as the door burst out of its frame and was thrown to the other side of the cell. Stolas had to lean on the doorframe, needing to recover from his power-drain. The Imps however shared no such exhaustion, with Blitzo and Millie jumping through into the chamber.
“Yes,” Blitzo laughed, jumping up victoriously, as he snatched the book from its pedestal. “Alright now let's get to it and-” He started flipping through the book, when he suddenly noticed the young man hunkered down in the corner of the room. “What the fuck? Ah whatever, I don’t have time for this shit, Millie you can kill him if you want.” Blitzo stated simply as he kept browsing through the pages.
“What, No!” Taylor screamed, holding his hands out in front of him as if that would somehow protect him.
“I can't, I'm holding Junior.” Milli stated assertively, holding out the creature in her hands.
Sensing its companion’s distress, 131-B became frantic from within the crate, pushing against the walls in an attempt to get out, causing the crate to shake on the outside. Taylor grabbed the crate and held it in order to get the entity to stop.
“What was that?” Millie questioned, gazing at the researcher…
Moxxie was just beginning to regain his strength and get back on his feet. “Take your time, fatty.” Loona taunted from beside him, something he’d become used to. He finally straightened himself out, just in time to see Loona stare blankly down the hall, “Oh shit.” she murmured.
Moxxie turned, watching as a dozen heavily armored soldiers, wearing orange hazard suits and gasmasks, carrying rifles, barreled around the corner and began to rush towards them. Moxxie dashed through the open door frame to where Millie and Blitzo were, “Guys we have a problem-” he yelped.
Just as the first pops of gunshots echoed in from the corridor, “Yea and they’re not in a talking mood.” Loona added as she sought cover within the room.
“I’ll deal with them,” Stolas announced as he wandered back into the corridor to confront the soldiers, “Blitz, get that portal open.” He ordered, transforming into his true form once more as he confronted the MTFs.
Taylor felt some relief, as at least for now the Imps were distracted, though they could still decide to kill him whenever they wanted. He wasn’t about to entice them to either. Thus he resigned himself to his fate and sat quietly in the corner, as he could do nothing but watch. Blitzo was frantically drawing the corner on the far wall of the chember, opposite the door, the other Imps helping him where they could. All the while the supersonic cracks of gunshots and screams of soldiers echoed through the hall and into the chamber.
Finally, after a couple minutes, Blitzo put the last touches on the Rune, before it suddenly erupted into a bright glow, revealing a translucent gateway, with a red ring around it, into a large fancily decorated room.
Without hesitation, Loona, Moxxie, and Millie, all jumped through, with Blitzo waiting an extra moment longer, “Stolas, the portal’s open, get your feathered ass over here!” He yelled before jumping through himself.
Stolas reemerged into the chamber, even more beaten and bruised than he’d been before, using the last of the strength remaining within him, to lurch himself across the room and through the portal. Emerging in a room he recognized, he landed flat on his back, gazing back and up at the portal. Seeing through it how the first of the soldiers just began to approach the chamber’s entrance, Stolas used the last of the magic he had left in him as he swiped his hands and shut the portal.
Disappearing into the thin air, the portal disappeared, with there now only being the marble and wood walls of his house.
Beaten, broken, and injured, Stolas lay on the floor a moment, reflecting on everything that had just happened, a smile came across his face as he realized that his suicide mission was successfull. They were all safe.
Groggily rising to his feet, Stolas stood tall and proud, meandering off into the hall. He chuckled slightly, rising into a full blown laughter, as the Imps stared up at him as if he was crazy. Winding down, he said; “Well, that was quite an adventure, wasn’t it, Blitz.”
Blitzo Chuckled nervously, “W-what? I mean, I thought you’d be mad.”
“Oh don’t get me wrong Blitz,” Stolas turned toward the Imp, “I am absolutely, fucking furious right now.” He stated sternly, “What in the seven rings were you thinking?”
“Stolas, please they left me no choice I had to.” Blitzo pleaded, clutching his clothes and the book beneath his arm.
“I told you over the phone that, under no circumstance should you have anything to do with them. And then you attempt some rescue mission against one of the most powerful organizations Humanity has ever created. These aren’t the dregs of society you’re used to dealing with Blitz.”
“You have to understand, I needed to go on and get my daughter back.” Blitzo argued, defensively.
“Dammit, Blitz,” Stolas cursed, “I told you they were off limits. If you just told me what happened, I could have fixed this, but now-“ Stolas’s jaw dropped as he suddenly noticed the full band of soldiers standing in the hall’s doorway, being led by one of his many servants. Each one of them brightly and proudly brandishing the SCP logo on their uniforms, standing in the entrance of the room. Soon the others noticed as well as they all began to face the soldiers.
Nine highly trained MTF soldiers and the one scientist in the orange suit stared at him, as stolas could do nothing but stare back, like a deer in headlights. In all that only one word came to mind, “Shit.”
Notes:
I hope the wait was worth it for you all, I’m personally very happy with this chapter so I hope you are too. Anyway, like I said at the end of chapter 8, updates to this story are going to be much more sporadic, especially since school has started up. So I really appreciated all of you for reading this, since uploads are becoming less frequent.
(oh and if you haven't seen it yet, I’ve turned SCP-666 into a series under which I have posted a second work called ‘the redacted files’ in which I plan to put all the side stories and extras from SCP-666 that aren’t essential to the plot. Right now it has the full interview between Dr. Collins and Blitzo. I won’t update that super often, so whenever there's a new thing in there I’ll mention it at the end of the most recent chapter.)
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. I'll gladly take any feedback anyone has to give.
Chapter 10: Return to Form
Summary:
Collins arrives at a delicate situation in the Goetia manor, searching for help to return to the overworld, Collins and Mjolnir-3 are confronted by a hostile group of Imps he had previously imprisoned.
Notes:
The wait is finally over.
Honestly this chapter is way longer than I intended it to be, but I am very happy with it. I originally intended to release it last weekend, but I got sick and didn’t have much time to write. But now it's finally done.
Anyway, I thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 10: Return to Form
Bitter sweetness and irony, it had all come full circle, that the MTFs that first apprehended the entities when they were trying to leave Earth would now be stopped by said entities from leaving Hell. It was almost poetic. None of that changed that fact that Collins now has only a handful of men against a being with powers they haven’t fully comprehended. A being that has just liberated its companions, meaning he knew exactly what the foundation was about, and the role Collins and Mjolnir-3 played in it. There was no playing around it, no lying, no good faith, the only thing he could do was negotiate on very steep terms.
Collins had to put his foot down however, as he could already see the entities becoming antsy. “H-hold on, we can come to terms, negotiate.”
“These are the bastards that kidnapped us.” Blitzo stated, gritting his teeth as he glanced up at Stolas.
The Imp didn’t have the full picture however. Stolas knew that he didn’t have much left in him, even though he had confronted many more soldiers during the breakout, and now there were only ten, he was on the verge of splitting apart and these ten just might accomplish it. In Stolas’s mind there was only one option, if he wished to ensure everyone including himself wished to make it out alive, he was going to have to negotiate on very steep terms. “Blitz, I don’t think we can-“
“I’m not letting these bastards take us again.” Blitzo countered, slight tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
Millie placed something down on one of the couches in the room, as she went to brandish her axe. Simultaneously, Moxxie placed hand on one of the guns he’d tucked into his jumpsuit.
Stolas noticed it out of the corner of his eye, “No stop that.” He scolded.
In response to the clear acts of aggression from the two Imps, Butler raised his rifle, alongside much of the rest of the squad.
Collins saw it happen just before him, he took a step in front of Butler, “Sergeant stand down,” he urged, quickly turning back to the entities, “Please, we don’t need to-“
Collins’s words however, fell on deaf ears. Everything seemed to slow down, as the inevitable suddenly became impossible to prevent. Blitzo suddenly reached into his jumpsuit, quickly pulling out his flintlock before pointing it directly at the soldiers and hastily pulling the trigger. In a bright flash, the muzzle of the pistol ignited, a blink of an eye later and the bullet screeched across the hall.
Within an instant it hit its target, the second man from the front, Pvt. Devis, striking him to the right, at the base of his neck, where he had no armor to protect him. Crunching horridly, the bullet shattered the man’s collar bone, spattering out blood as it tore further into his shoulder. Without a word, the Private gave way to gravity as he dropped to the ground, where he lay unmoving.
Butler didn’t even have to give the order, acting on their training, the soldiers instantly snapped their rifles onto targets and returned fire, bounding for cover at the same time. Butler grabbed Collins, pulling him off to the side and out of harm. The fanciful décor of the manor came in useful, as the large marble pillars lining the halls provide excellent cover, as the previously organized squad quickly dispersed and hid behind them.
Following the same line of thinking, the imps sought cover behind the sofas standing in the middle of the room, meanwhile the thunder of gunfire ignited from the soldiers, tearing across the hall.
“Stay down Doc,” Butler ordered, as he practically threw Collins at the base of one of the marble pillars. Just beside them they could see Françoi dragging the motionless Devis off to the side to tend to him, leaving a trail of blood across the floor. “Nine, help him!” He ordered, as the pastor moved to assist the medic. “Eight, seven, circle back around, make sure none of the security get any brave ideas!” The two soldiers departed, turning back down the way they came. “Everyone else, pick your targets and focus fire, don’t let ‘em breathe!” He ordered the remaining four, combat operational, soldiers. “Fucking idiot Imps,” he commented finally.
Truly the Imp’s situation was critical, though the pair of couches they hid behind were the closest cover, they were far from the best, and their positioning was even worse. With the couches in the dead center of the large living room, it was practically impossible for them to get to better cover without making themselves an open target. All the while the couch became ever riddled with holes, as plush and fabric was rained onto the imps from the bullets passing through.
“This won’t do,” Blitzo stated, as he and Moxxie went to flip the couch over, straining initially however they managed it eventually, Millie and Loona did the same with the other couch, though it was a bit more practical, it hardly made either more bullet proof, quickly becoming shredded again.
Moxxie rose, attempting to make an aimed shot at one of the soldiers, before he ever had the chance to he reeled back in pain, with Millie swarming to his aid. A bullet grazed the side of one of his horns, leaving a small semi-circular cut-out in the side of it. Granting Blitzo and Moxxie no other option than fire blindly overtop of the couch at where the soldiers presumably were.
“Stolas, can you magic that table over, we’re gonna need more cover!” He had to shout over the thunder of both his own and the MTFs returning gunfire.
Stolas looked toward the table in question, a dark stained coffee table, one of his favorites. Holding his hands out, he clenched his eyes firmly shut, trying to manifest the last of his power. As he strained however, the table illuminated a dull purple and began to lift into the air as he tried to pull it closer. As it slowly hovered down toward them, suddenly though, alongside the pain from all the other bruises and cuts, Stolas felt a sharp pain deep inside his chest, worst of all he knew exactly what it was. He gasped, putting a hand on his chest as he released the table, letting it fall and smash back into the floor, only halfway to their position.
Externally there was no additional damage to Stolas, at least not visibly, his wide eyes however suggested that everything was anything but alright.
“The powers have reached their limit, they’re uncontainable, if I keep going… I’ll tear myself apart.” He muttered incoherently.
“Dammit!” Blitzo shouted, “what Stolas?”
“I’ve run out of magic!” Stolas replied, which Blitzo understood perfectly clearly as he suddenly shared Stolas’s panicked expression.
“Then we just do it the old fashioned way.” He stated simply, firing his pistol over the couch again.
Keeping behind cover, Ward hovered over Adela, who was laying on her stomach with the M249 resting on its bipod, firing in bursts. She continued taking potshots whenever she saw the briefest glimpse of the entities, whenever the occasional arm, hand, or horn poked out she fired on it. Continuing in this pattern even as the Imps flipped the couches over for improvised cover, what they seemingly didn’t notice however, was a small round object that rolled off the couch as it flipped, before it corrected itself on its own, it seemed to look around the room as Ward finally realized that there was an eye in the middle of it. She fired her last shot, as Ward’s shotgun locked open, she backed fully into cover behind the marble pillar she stood near. “Reloading,” she announced, pulling fresh shells from her rig as she began the arduous task. “Hey, doc!” She called, alerting Collins from behind his own cover, near Butler and Sandman, “You see that? Isn’t that one of the little guys they let roam around one of the sites?”
Collins peeked his head out just enough for clearance to see down the hall at the entities. Sure enough he saw a small teardrop-shaped object with a single large eye. The entity seemed to scan the room before, before quickly racing off toward the side out of the line of fire. “That’s 131-A? Meaning-” Collins gained a little bit of hope, even though they still had to make it out of this mess, “my testing procedures were approved!” At the same time he took note of the glowing purple coffee-table in the background, and how it crashed into the floor. Realizing this unimaginably powerful entity, suddenly became toothless.
“You can worry about your tests later, doc!” Butler stated, grabbing Collins by his shoulder as he pulled him back into cover. “Two, keep firing, just don’t shoot the orange ball!” He ordered, as Ward wordlessly returned to fighting. Just at that moment, he heard gunshots emanate from the corridor behind him. Butler turned toward the noise and leaned his head into his radio, “Seven, eight, report!”
“Security became hostile, had to put a couple down, rest scrambled after that.”
“And I was starting to regret sending you guys back. Make sure it’s clear, otherwise get back here, we could use the help.” He ordered.
Collins kept a close eye on 131, they were invaluable to the foundation and his experiments, he couldn’t just let it sit in the open. The fire from the soldiers had become dominant, as the entities' gunshots became more sparse. Besides if the entities were willing to kidnap 131 who knows what plans they had for it. “Press your attack Sergeant!” Collins yelled as he simultaneously began sprinting down the hall toward 131-A.
Butler hardly had any time to react, let alone stop the doctor, “Doc, what the-“ he reacted, though quickly realized what Collins was doing, “Cease fire!” He ordered, “dammit, doc.” He murmured, as the screen of bullets dropped to let Collins pass by. “Three, cover the doc, Two, get over here!”
“Aye,” Adela confirmed, shifting her sight, closely following Collins as she fired at anything that might threaten the man.
Ward dashed across the hall to Butler’s side, “what’s the plan?”
“Bounding maneuver,” butler stated, “we gotta press ‘em, squeeze them outta their cover. Six, you’re up first.” Ward and Butler fired at the Imps while Sandman advanced further forward, before taking cover and allowing one of the others to advance, as he covered them. Continuing in that pattern they kept the Imps suppressed and advanced toward them at the same time.
Meanwhile, Collins sprinted toward 131-A. Appearing confused, the entity didn’t try to escape or find cover, rather it merely seemed to gaze around the room. Hunching down as he ran, Collins swooped up 131 before it had a chance to react, as he firmly tucked it into his hands. Slowing to a stop, Collins looked down at the entity, which thankfully appeared unscathed.
“Get your hands off junior!” A voice yelled from beside him, as Collins only now noticed how close he truly was to the Imps cover. That was the least of his concerns. Narrowly having time to react, a large headed axe blade swung toward him from SCP-666-1-Mi, as she charged toward the doctor. Bearliy having time to doge, the edge of the axe just whisked past him, as Collins lost his balance and fell flat on his back. Millie hovered over him, as she reared the large axe back Collins held out 131-A toward the Imp, rationalizing that if they went through the effort to take it then they wouldn’t be willing to destroy it. Though, he could only pray that was the case.
Adela saw the Imp jump out toward Collins from her position, she shambled her sight onto the Imp as she squeezed the trigger. A shot went off careening just past the entity, before the weapon just clicked. Jerking her head up, she peered over to the other side of her weapon. The feed tray was empty, just as the bag that held the belt she was firing. “Fuck!” She cursed, by the time she’d be finished reloading Collins would already be minced, so she came up with a different idea. Rising to her feet, she hefted up the fifteen pound machine-gun like it was nothing, as she quickly began running toward Collins and Millie.
Adela was mere meters away as she saw Millie rear back the axe. With all the elegance of a heavyweight shot-putter, Adela launched the gun at the Imp. Flying unceremoniously through the air, the light machine gun had gained little velocity, but that didn’t matter due to the sheer mass of the thing. Millie practically flew off her feet as the massive weight struck her side, forcing her to drop the axe, as she fell back, trying to pull the large weapon off of her.
“Get out of here, doc!” Adela shouted, reaching behind the two pouches on the front of her vest, she drew the large Bowie-knife and continued to charge the Imp.
Collins watched as Millie just managed to get the gun off of her to block Adela’s strike, as the two became tangled in a melee. Having seen enough Collins quickly hurried away, still cradling 131-A, as he ran back toward the rest of the MTF squad in the corridor.
Watching as Collins quickly scurried back behind a pillar into cover, Butler called to him, “Dammit doc! You got what you needed now?” He asked, as Collins held up 131-A.
“Hey, Sarge, you miss us?” Seven buzzed into Butler’s comms, suddenly appearing behind the squad, alongside eight.
“Couldn’t have better timing,” Butler replied, “we’ve got them trapped. Seven, Eight, you two provide overwatch and protect four, five, and nine. Me, two and six are gonna push into the hall.” He explained, “Set?”
“About time we ended this.” Sandman commented.
“Set.” Ward replied simply.
“Alright,” Butler took one last glance toward where the Imps were barricaded, “let's go.” He announced, taking point as Ward and Sandman flanked him on either side, steadily moving toward the barricade of couches, meeting no opposition, as the imps were completely hunkered down.
Blitzo peaked between the couches, as he saw the soldiers approaching. “Alright,” he turned toward the others, a powerless Stolas, an injured Moxxie still clutching at his horn, and Loona with no ranged capability what-so-ever. “Three of them are charging us, we’ll jump 'em when they’re close.”
Stolas attempted to argue, “Blitz, we can’t win this. The only chance we had-”
“Fuck that, I’m not letting these bastards take us again.” Blitzo repeated stubbornly, “I’m not gonna sit around and wait for them to dissect us.” Blitzo peaked between the couches again, “Loonie, Mox, you ready?”
Butler held two fingers up before pointing to the side, as Ward flanked around in a wide arch to the right. Butler quickly snapped his eyes back on target and continued advancing. With a sudden growl Loona jumped from behind the couch charging toward Ward on his right. Catching a glimpse of the other two Imps horns rising above the couch as well, he was forced to ignore it, as he squared his sights on Blitzo and Sandman put his on Moxxie.
Loona continued charging toward Ward, crouched down on all fours as she crossed the distance in seconds. Remembering the wolf’s attack strategy, Ward gripped her shotgun at either end and waited for just one second. Loona crouched close to the ground before launching up at the soldier, bounding down on Ward at a downward angle. With the Wolf now in mid-air, Ward thrusted the center of her shotgun out toward Loona, striking her in the sternum Ward kept her at arm's length where the wolf’s claws just Bearily couldn’t reach her. Pushing further, Loona lost all her momentum as the soldier forced her back leading to the wolf falling flat on the floor. Keeping her pinned, Ward followed up by quickly placing her boot on Loona’s shoulder before pointing the gun's muzzle down at her. Growling, Loona stared up past the muzzle of the shotgun at the cold lenses of Ward’s gasmask, “Didn’t work this time, bitch!”
Butler reacted as he saw Blitzo rise from behind the couch, seeing the flintlock pointed in his direction, he worked off instinct and pulled the trigger, firing off a single shot. Blitzo recoiled to the sharp pain that traveled through his shoulder, dropping the book as he went to clutch the wound with his hand.
Sandman had Moxxie in his sights, who had just seen what occurred beside him, causing the Imp to hesitate. “Don’t do it.” Sandman urged.
“Stop!” Stolas called, suddenly rising from behind cover, physically putting himself in front of Blitzo, holding his arms out to shield the two Imps. “W-we can - negotiate.” Not having the impact the owl had hoped, the soldiers kept their weapons firmly pointed.
“Y-yes, yes, we can negotiate!” Collins called, quickly racing to the front.
Though he kept his rifle pointed toward the Imp, Butler physically turned to look at Collins as he walked up, “you gotta be shitting me, right?”
Collins marched up close to Butler, “I don’t like it either, but we still need them.” He explained, in a hushed tone so no one else could hear.
“They shot up one of my guys, doc, I’m not letting that slide.” Butler countered stubbornly, keeping his tone as quiet as Collins.
Rather than get into any sort of argument with the squad leader, Collins walked off toward the Imps and their make-shift barricade. Wandering straight past Blitzo and Stolas, Collins continued toward the navy blue and gold book laying on the ground, bending over to pick it up, he was stopped by a ratcheted clicking sound that emanated from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, Collins was met with the muzzle of Blitzo’s flintlock pointed at his head. “I wouldn’t recommend that.” Collins said coldly, as the same metallic clunk sounded from behind Blitzo from Butler charging his rifle.
Without upsetting his aim, Butler nodded toward Sanman, as the soldier moved forward, first toward Moxxie. Keeping his rifle pointed at the Imp as he came within several feet, “hand it over.” He ordered, holding his hand out. With a few seconds hesitation, Moxxie relented, placing his gun in the soldier’s hand, as Sandman quickly backed off. Next he approached Blitzo and gave the same command.
Blitzo kept his weapon pointed for a while longer, almost seeming to fantasize about the prospect of shooting his way out. Not that he could. With one last glance at Stolas, who almost begged him not to escalate this any further, Blitzo relented, “aw, shucks,” as he let the soldier take the gun from his hand.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE!” A mildly accented voice yelled from the other side of the hall. Standing in the entrance of the hall, opposite to the one the squad had entered through, stood another bird-like being of the same build as Stolas, apart from appearing more feminine, shorter, and dressed in a starred blouse, with a wool coat draped over her shoulders, and a black beanie covering her head. “Dad?” She shouted with equal parts concern and confusion.
“Hello, owlet.” Stolas responded, glancing over his shoulder with a forced smile.
“Loona!” She squawked, covering her mouth with both hands.
“Sup, Via.” The wolf responded, attempting to wave despite the fact that her arm was still trapped by Ward’s boot.
“Hunh, the one that got away,” Collins muttered seeing SCP-666-3-O in person for the first time. “We’re almost done here, I suggest you don’t interfere.” Finishing his previous action, Collins picked up the Grimoire, flipping to a random page as he walked back toward Butler. “Then by all means, Sergeant, you better start learning how to read this, real quick.” He announced, holding the book open in front of Butler. Even the department he’d set up hadn’t fully translated the book yet, only just enough to move forward with testing. “Unless you want to chance it, draw a random rune, and end up on antarctica.”
Butler stared at the alien text for a while, he hated every part of it, he hated putting his men's lives into magic, he hated being forced to rely on the beings that just tried to kill them, and yet he knew that the doctor was right. He visibly clenched the guard of his rifle slightly harder before finally giving the command, “Squad - stand down.” He ordered, as he finally lowered his rifle.
Almost as if they were in shock, each of the squad members proceeded to look toward Butler, one after the other, before doing the same. Allowing the Imps to finally relax.
Until the huffing and grunting of fighting quickly barged into the conversation again, with Adela and Millie still duking it out on the floor trying to murder each other. Adela had her knife in her hands as she tried to use gravity to her advantage and stab the Imp, while Millie used all her strength to keep the much larger soldier off of her.
“Dammit,” Butler cursed as he and Sandman rushed off after the two, with Blitzo and Moxxie doing the same. Grabbing Adela by one arm, as Sandman got her by the other, the soldiers were dragging her off the Imp, as she continued to struggle and attempt to break free. Millie wasn’t any better, despite the soldier being dragged off, she immediately attempted to rush them and strike back, however Moxxie and Blitz quickly grabbed and restrained her. “Goddamit, stand down!” Butler yelled, finally seeming to pull Adela out of the frenzy as she jumped up and stood at attention. Moxxie seemed to get Millie to pull together as well, as the Imp seemed to calm. However the rage in her eyes remained more than prevalent, something Adela likely shared just hidden behind the mask.
While that chaos was ensuing, Ward finally took her boot off of Loona’s shoulder, leaving a slight tread mark on the orange jumpsuit. She extended her hand down, offering to help the wolf up. Loona just huffed, slapping the soldier's hand to the side, as she rose to her feet by herself. “Rude.” Ward scoffed, as the two went their separate ways. Loona wandered off to rejoin the Imps, while Ward marched back to the squad.
Since the last bits of fighting had finally ceased, Octavia rushed toward Stolas as if she was afraid he’d disappear at that moment, charging into him as she hugged him tightly. “What happened? Why are they here?
Collins responded before Stolas had the chance, “if we’re done killing each other, we can discuss exactly that.”
With the dust having settled, the soldiers dropped their guards, mostly, with the Demon being exhausted and the Imps’s weapons in their possession, they were largely incapable of fighting back. Giving them time to right the furniture, and re-set themselves for Discussion. Collins, clutching the Grimoire, took a seat on the remains of one couch, 131-A remaining on and beside his lap catlike, as Millie relentlessly stared at it. Stolas, Octavia and Blitzo seated themselves on the other couch directly opposite to the doctor. Meanwhile some of the MTFs and remaining Imps flanked their respective sides, while others just meandered in the background. Collins listened carefully as Stolas layed out everything that happened during their escape.
“How much damage did you do?” Collins asked, having heard the owl's tale he realized that everything was about to be much more complicated than he had originally planned.
“As much as I needed to, a couple dozen guards, security doors, most of the camera system.” Stolas explained.
“Right, you wouldn’t by chance have tampered with a device labeled SRA?” Collins asked, hesitancy in his tone, as he wasn’t even meant to acknowledge the existence of foundation technology with outsiders, let alone contained entities.
“No, at least not that I believe.” Stolas confirmed, “Is that something I should-”
“No.” Collins quickly corrected, “It’s nothing.” Collins felt a pat on his shoulder as he turned to look.
Ward hovered over him with his clipboard in hand, “Dropped this, doc.” She stated handing the papers back to him.
“Thank you, Corporal.” Collins accepted, from the periphery of his vision he saw Butler leaning against a wall as Françoi approached the Sergeant.
Speaking at a tone just above a whisper, the murmur of conversation was audible however it’s contents were not. As soon as the medic finished, Butler visibly hung his head, rubbing the lenses of his mask, as he thought. Françoi left, as Butler hopped off the wall and marched over to Collins, “Doc, we’ve got a problem,” Butler stated sternly as he nodded his head off to the side. With the signal being clear, Collins rose from his seat letting 131-A roll to the floor and follow him, as he joined Butler to the side of the room. Butler kept his tone quite, “Our problem is dash five. Kid’s in poor shape, four said he stabilized him but doesn’t have the equipment to keep him that way.”
“How long?” Collins asked briskly.
“He’s got an hour at most.” Butler confirmed.
Collins simply nodded his head, as he wordlessly returned to the couch, however he remained standing. “Pleasantries are over, schedule’s moved up, how quickly can you get us back into the site you guys escaped from?”
“Christ, what’s got you in a bunch all of a sudden?” Blitzo asked, in his usual brash arrogance.
Realizing there was no time for argument, he might as well indulge the Imp, especially if it shut him up. “The man you shot is dying, we need to get him back as soon as possible, we don’t have time to argue anymore.”
“Fuck ‘em, shits had it coming.” With those words Blitzo seemed to suck the air out of the room, becoming dead quiet.
Gradually, every member of the MTF squad turned toward the small Imp, cold lenses of their masks staring eerily, while concealing the venom in their eyes. Adela, who’d been seated on the floor cleaning out her machine gun, threw the weapon off her lap before darting up, drawing her knife and marched forward, “Obedrę żywcem ze skóry tego czerwonego pieprzonego.” Ward got up, and had to physically get in her way to stop her.
“I’m not going to stop them, so by all means continue.” Disgust dripped from Colin’s tone, as he moved back on track, “With everything that’s happened, I’m your best hope-” There wasn’t a doubt in Collins’s mind that the Imps and particularly Stolas had to know how valuable they were, by now, and he was going to have to give much more than he wanted. “Help us get back and I’ll guarantee your safe return.”
“And how can you guarantee that your foundation will honor that?” Stolas asked.
“I’m a senior researcher in charge of this whole operation, my opinion matters much more than you think.” Collins admitted, perhaps more than he should. “Plus there’s plenty you all can do for yourselves. You gave the foundation a spook, but we’re not beyond reproach; come back with me, submit to questioning, and cooperate — with actually useful information,” Collins glared at Blitzo, “and it’ll improve your standing.” He explained, “So, what will it be?”
Stolas remained quiet for a while, looking down at the Imps and Octavia, apart from Blitzo, who was as pouty as ever, the rest had mixed expressions of insecurity and concern. Then again, what really were his options? Go along with it and hope they keep their word, or say ‘no’ and who knows what would happen, and considering their disparity and poor condition of their teammate, their response may be less than cordial. Stolas sighed, “Alright, I can get you back in a few seconds.”
“What?” Blitzo reacted.
Followed swiftly by Octavia, “Dad, no! They tried to kidnap me the first time, who knows what’ll do to you.”
“It’s alright, Via, they wouldn’t dare try anything.” He tenderly laid a hand on her shoulder, feigning some sense of confidence, though it seemed to inspire no such thing in his daughter. Stolas rose, towering over the doctor before him, holding out a hand halfway between them, with some reluctance Collins placed the book in Stolas’s hand.
“Sergeant, get your boys ready to move,” Collins ordered to a nearby Butler. Watching as the owl wandered over to a wall on the far side of the room.
“Blitz, if you would,” Stolas requested, holding out a hand for the Imp. Blitzo gave a glare to Collins as he passed, walking up to stolas as he placed a piece of chalk in the Demon’s hand. Stolas poised the chalk in his hand as he began to draw a large, and rather intricate, rune on the wall. It was the first time Blitzo had ever seen Stolas create one without using magic, yet the owl moved just as quickly and efficiently as if he were. In under a minute Stolas had drawn an almost three meter tall runic circle on the wall of the room, as he turned back toward the Doctor, “Whenever you’re ready.”
The Imps and MTFs had loosely assembled near to the wall, with an unconscious Devis being splayed out on a collapsible stretcher being carried by Alphonse and Arno, while Sandman marched beside them carrying the Private’s rifle and holding up a blood-bag that had been inserted into Devis’s wrist. Now that Collins had seen the soldier for himself, he understood why the medic gave such a grim estimate. His gas mask and helmet were replaced by an oxygen mask strapped over his face, while most of the upper-left area of his uniform had been cut away to give better access. Dried blood coated the man's neck and shoulder, with rough patches and stitching barely holding his skin shut, alongside an entire brace being clamped over his collar to prevent it from being moved. God knows how bad he looked internally, as blood still seemed to soak and drip through the cloth of the stretcher and onto the floor. Perhaps most telling of all, the young Private was dangerously pale, his lips already beginning to turn blue.
With everyone assembled, Stolas touched the edge of the chalk rune causing it to illuminate in a bright light, the rune disappeared as a swirling, opaque, purple and blue circle replaced it. There was hesitancy, even with Collins and MTFs, as it seemed that no one quite knew what to do for a couple seconds.
“The book, if you would.” Collins requested, as Stolas gave the man a bit of a snide expression, “I’m not risking us passing through, to who knows where, just for you to shut it behind us.” In the end Stolas relented, passing the book back to Collins. “Here goes nothing,” he murmured as Collins slowly meandered toward the portal.
“Oh, and just for the record, we won.” Blitzo stated, childishly, as if their pointless skirmish had any meaning at all.
“We can still change that,” Butler challenged, his voice stone cold, as he charged back the bolt on his rifle, spitting out a single shell-casing.
“Do you ever stop?” Collins asked, beleaguered that they were literally one step away from getting back and now they wanted to pick another fight. “Call it a draw, that whole fight should never have happened.” Collins starred sternly at Blitzo, before turning to Butler. “One and two come with me, then the stretchers, the rest of you wait and make sure that the entities pass through before going yourselves.” Collins ordered firmly, he wasn’t going to let this fall apart at the last hurdle. Finally he turned back to the portal, the Grimoire and notes clutched firmly in hand, while 131-A followed closely at his heels.
Collins stood centimeters from the portal, he’d done this before, he knew what to expect, and, if the Demon was true to his word, he knew where he’d end up. Yet there was still this hesitancy and curiosity to it all, as if it was all still so alien. Collins pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, taking one last large leap and phased into the abyss.
Once the cold sensation faded and all became clear again, Collins found himself somewhere familiar, finally. Moving a few extra paces forward, and he was in the center of one of the many stark white corridors of a containment site, presumably Site-59. Being in a safe environment, Collins used his free hand to tear off the mask and chemical hood, finally able to breathe comfortably. Dropping the mask to the floor, he ruffled out his hair which was again matted down by sweat. However not quite everything was as it should be, as he gazed across the corridor small details were out of place, like brass shell casings littering the floor, bullet holes across the walls, alongside scuffs and tracks of muck across the walls and floors.
Soon Butler then Ward emerged behind him, meanwhile Collins wandered down a part of the corridor, searching for some semblance of life. He came close to one of the dividing bulkheads, splitting the corridor in two. The door had been torn out of its frame, as Collins attempted to gaze past it and find something.
Before Collins had the chance to make anything out, he jumped back in fear, as a figure suddenly twisted from around the door, holding the muzzle of a gun in his face. Beyond the weapon was a young woman, in her mid to late twenties, wearing a lab-coat. Overcoming the initial shock, Collins’s eyes grew wider, as the girl seemed to make the same realization as him. “Phyllis?”
“D-Doctor Collins…” Phyllis gawked, lowering her gun, as they both stood in silence for a moment. She finally broke it when she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. Uncomfortably hugging him as Collins remained static, not entirely sure how to respond. She quickly released, however, “Sorry, that was not… we all thought you were dead.” Becoming distracted by something else she suddenly turned back to the hall, “You guys can come out!” She called, as a dozen MTF soldiers came out of cover, wearing the distinct mild orange jumpsuits of Epsilon-11.
“Nine-tailed fox?” Collins asked, gawking at the soldiers.
“Yea, they were called in almost immediately after-“ Her eyes suddenly darted to something beside Collins, “woah.” Françoi and the stretcher team barged past, quickly sprinting down the hall as they parted the Epsilon-11 squad like the Red Sea and continued running toward the nearest operating room.
Phyllis turned back to Collins expecting him to provide answers. “Unfortunately, our journey wasn’t particularly smooth either, we met some resistance right at the end.”
“Also is that-?” She pointed down to the floor, as the small orange teardrop with an eye, sitting beside Collins’s boot, looking up at her. “Dammit, Taylor.” She cursed under her breath.
“That’s another problem.” He explained, “But, my god, Phyllis, you should see that place. I can’t believe I’m saying this but, Hell is incredible.” His assistant however, didn’t share didn’t share his optimism, in fact there was a familiar fear in her eyes as she glared at something over his shoulder.
Phyllis raised her gun again, as the members of Nine-Tailed-Fox followed suit. Collins already figured he knew what it was, but he glanced over his shoulder to confirm, sure enough the Imps, particularly Stolas, had begun filing into the hall as they passed through the portal, alongside the remaining members of Mjolnir-3. “No, no, Stop!” He yelled, quickly placing himself in the center of the hall, blacking the line of fire. “They’re with us, the entities are here as guests.”
Phyllis’s eyes perked up as she shifted her attention to Collins, “Doctor, they’re the ones that caused the security breach.” She pointed to Stolas specifically, with the memory of everything the owl did, burned well into her mind. Showing a similar degree of familiarity, Stolas squinted at the woman, she had a face he’d seen before.
“I know,” Collins confirmed, “but they’re the reason we were even able to come back, besides we still need them.” He turned toward Butler, who was standing beside him, “Sergeant, so long as the entities are on site, your squad is to act as its escort. They are not being contained, if there is any problem you come straight to me.” The Sergeant grumbled, however he did eventually nod his head in approval. Seeming to be enough of a comfort, the soldiers did lower their guns but remained on guard, the last thing Collins wanted was another shootout.
“Collins!” a voice yelled through the crowd, as another man gradually made his way through the soldiers, a darker man with a bald head, wearing a lab-coat, barged through the soldiers. “You need to come with me, there’s been a development.” He stated, as he grabbed Collins’s arm.
“Dr. Wilcox, how’d you know I was back already?” He asked, being pulled through the crowd of soldiers by his arm like a toddler. Phyllis was close behind them both.
“Cameras Collins, Cameras.” Wilcox simply explained. “It’s been chaos since you left, since the breach began everyone’s been jumping up my back for answers.” They passed another small group of a couple MTFs moving in the opposite direction from them. Their logo was strange, consisting of an eye within a twelve pointed star, far from any logo Collins recognized.
“Who on earth are they?” Collins blurted out.
“Eta-77, Spheres within Spheres, they’re from DTT.” Wilcox responded, surprisingly snappishly.
Collins dug his heels, “Absolutely not!” He announced, “Phyllis, do me a favor, run back to the Sergeant and tell him to not let Eta-77 or anyone else from the Department of Tactical Theology anywhere near the SCP-666 entities.” Quickly complying, she had already begun pacing her way back before he’d finished the order.
“That was uncalled for, they were only called in case of additional attacks.” Wilcox commented.
“I don’t care, those dolts need to realize that just because an entity vaguely resembles something out of a thousand-year-old book doesn’t mean that it’s some spiritual threat.” Collins wound himself up as he continued ranting, “Hell, this case was passed on to Garcia and then me because they weren’t making any progress on it. SCP-666 won't be solved by prayer, it’s a delicate political situation that the foundation has a real stake in.”
“Really?” Wilcox reacted, “Well you can tell them that in your debrief. They’re also the ones who gave it the stupid number.”
“It’s a really stupid number.” Collins agreed, “How bad was the breach?” Collins asked, suddenly changing the subject. Being well clear of the soldiers, and other uncleared ears, Wilcox pulled him aside.
“Could’ve been worse, definitely wasn’t a Site-19, but the real problem is how it happened.” Wilcox’s tone somehow grew more serious than it already was, “You’re the lowest ranking researcher that I’m trusting with this, and that’s only because it relates directly to your case, and you weren’t here.” He clarified, “A couple hours after you left, someone turned off the Site Reality Anchor, that’s how the entities got in, worst of all it was shut down internally.”
“So what? A Occult Coalition or Chaos Insurgency deep plant?” Collins theorized.
“No, can’t be.” Wilcox countered, “they used a copy of my card to deactivate the system, meaning they had the clearance to either get into my office or my file, so they could only be a member of my staff, and I’ve vetted them all heavily. We have a traitor in our midst.” Wilcox explained, as Collins couldn’t quite come up with the words to respond. “We got lucky, the emergency systems for Keter all activated like they were supposed to. Still, casualty estimates sit at over a hundred, half of those were contributed by your friends.”
Something that Collins was sure would be brought up time and time again from this point on. “I’m - aware,” he sighed, “they are still valuable assets.”
“Considering we have that back,” Wilcox pointed toward the Grimoire situated beneath Collins’s arm, “I find that quite unlikely.”
“The entities are useful in other ways, particularly 666-3-SG, I also see potential in 666-2-O. The rest are pretty much useless. I got them to agree to another round of interviews before we let them go.” Collins clarified.
“You can convince the board during your debrief, a lot of senior researchers have suddenly become very interested in your case.”
“Alright, alright, how long do I have?” Collins brushed off, between the notes, files, body-cam footage, and reports, he had a mountain of evidence, his major hurdle being the containment breach, and trying to convince them to get-over-it.
“Three hours,” Wilcox replied.
“To prepare, I mean.”
“Exactly.” He confirmed, a slight smile on his face, clearly relieved that he’d just successfully unloaded his work onto Collins.
“Fuck,” Collins whispered, “do me a favor and lock this back up, will you?” He requested, handing the Grimoire over to Dr. Wilcox, “I’m gonna go see what I can slap together.” He concluded, as Collins began to make his way back down the halls, his mind already racing to mentally construct his best arguments.
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Though he was comfortably back in a shirt and lab-coat, and finally out of that damn hazard suit, Collins could feel anything but comfortable. He stood at the forefront of a large conference room, a dozen seats splayed out along a large wooden table that curved with the room, meanwhile the various senior staff members were filing in to take their seats. Apart from Dr. Garcia and Wilcox There were half a dozen faces he didn’t even recognize. According to Wilcox there would be a representative from the Department of Tactical Theology, except he had no idea who they actually were. Each seat had a plaque ordained with their designated attendant’s name, suggesting that even some of them weren’t all too familiar with each other. Worryingly, there were a couple more famous, perhaps infamous, names before Collins as well, most notably a Dr. Clef and Bright. The latter being a particular pain in his side.
More faces he didn’t recognize, and apparent doctors, continued to funnel in. One in particular stood out, though Collins didn’t recognize his face, the golden amulet the man wore around his neck was more than enough of an indicator. “Dammit.” He cursed quietly under his breath as the man began to walk toward him.
“Well now, It’s been a while hasn’t it, Collins?” The man greeted cheerily, a pair of black framed glasses perched on his nose being one of the few characteristic features Collins recognized. Evidently Bright has had another ‘accident’ since they last saw each other. “So, tell me, how did it go down in cartoon land?”
Collins frowned slightly, “I thought we agreed not to speak anymore, Bright.”
Bright rolled his eyes, “Ach, but that was such a long time ago Colly. Live, laugh, forget, right?” Sarcasm clear in his tone, Bright was hardly actually trying to get Collins to forgive him, then again Bright hadn’t taken anything seriously for as long as anyone could remember. “You have to admit, it was well executed, and a good reference.”
Collins frowned slightly harder, “You pushed a button on a microwave…” He rubbed his brow with his finger and thumb, trying to regain some of his composure. “You know, I wonder if there’s a version of you in Hell for every time you’ve died, or if you’ll simply never go there at all.” He wondered aloud, Bright raised his brow himself, seemingly also curious. “Depending on the answer, I’m either going to nuke the place, or move my office down there.” Collins remarked, in the background the other scientists were gradually beginning to take their seats and get settled in. They were about to begin. “Really Bright, I would tell you to leave, but you’re technically a superior, so by all means take a seat.” Bright inched back, putting up his hands as he shrugged, before finally moving toward his assigned seat.
Everyone was getting situated, as the light chatter of small talk and conversation died down and meandered into silence. Other than his trial by the O-5’s, it was the first time that Collins had ever been surrounded by so many Senior foundation officials at once, most famously Dr. Altos Clef. Yet somehow this almost mythical member of the foundation had almost the polar opposite appearance and attitude that Collins expected. Collins expected some stern older man with some sort of immense presence as being the destroyer of vast amounts of entities. In contrast to that, the man who sat before Clef’s plaque was rather laid back, with a terce smile on his face, and a straw fedora perched on his head. The kind of person you’d see in a seedy bar on some tropical island rather than one of the most famous researchers of a top-secret organization. Then again, Bright was also a thing.
With a dozen pairs of eyes staring in his direction, the attention was finally all on Collins. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” Collins started, as a projector began illuminating images on the wall behind him, “I’m Doctor Franklin Collins, the current Senior researcher in charge of the SCP-666 research team, being headed by Doctor Garcia and supervised by Doctor Wilcox. As I’m sure you’re all aware, I just returned from my expedition into SCP-666, and-”
“Skip the formalities Doctor.” Clef interrupted, inching slightly forward in his seat, “Skip to the good stuff.” He requested.
Collins paused for a moment, almost at a loss for what to do, until he realized he should probably do just that. “Very well…” He agreed, quickly shuffling past his introductory notes. “In that case then we shall continue with SCP-666’s power structure.” He stated, Images of Blitzo, Vaggie, Alastor, Stolas, and the painting of Lucifer being displayed behind him. “All images were acquired from the body camera footage captured by the members of Mjolnir-3. From what we know so far SCP-666 has five distinctive classes, along which I have restructured the numeration system. The lowest of these are the common Hell-born, including a variety of Imps, Succuby and Hell-hounds, each has a structured biology similar to humans. These creatures are all born and live in SCP-666, and primarily make up the urban and rural poor. They have been collectively designated as -1 entities, being by far the most common within SCP-666 and the weakest on the overall power spectrum.”
“Collins please forgo the formal designations, it’s getting tedious.” Bright Requested, “Just call it Hell.”
Collins was just going to ignore Bright and continue, until Wilcox spoke up, “I second that.” He said simply, to which Garcia and another person with the plaque Agent Claudia Fiore gave perturbed glances toward the others, though kept quiet.
“Alright, secondly there are what are locally referred to as ‘Sinners’, supposedly humans who have committed sins and ended up in Hell.” Collins pointed out the picture of Vaggie, “The designated -2 instances tend to be humanoid, however they tend to share likenesses and features of animals, yet there are also more malformed and monster-esque versions of these Demons. The power of these beings varies wildly between individuals, for example, my next subject.” Collins proceeded to the picture of Alastor, “Overlords, or -3 instances, are extremely powerful sinners, to a point where they control and enter swaths of territory within Hell. The figure you see before you, is the only -3 instance we encountered, however there are believed to be a couple dozen more.” Collins proceeded over to Stolas, “Second to last, is what is believed to be one of several ruling families of Hell, the -4 instance are Hell-born however are extraordinarily powerful, and having noble titles and land ownership. This entity, SCP-666-SG, is part of the so-called Goetia family, and was almost single-handedly responsible for the containment breach that occurred earlier today.” A few murmurs rose among the researchers though quickly died back down. “We are currently housing the entity as a guest, and it is hoped that he will be able to aid us in translating the Grimoire, which is the book that allows us to teleport to Hell.” Collins finished, “should’ve mentioned that earlier,” he muttered under his breath.
“What about the previous assessment of categorizing the entities based on their abilities?” Dr. Wilcox asked, keeping Collins from continuing.
“Our previous system was based on the assumption that the different beings from Hell would have unique and exclusive abilities. That assumption turned out to be false, it seems the entity's abilities are learned and not inherent.” Collins explained, before shuffling his notes and continuing where he left off. “Seemingly at the top of the heigheraechy is the Morningstar family, designated as -5. This entity,” Collins gestured toward the picture of the painting, “is designated 666-5-LM, and is believed to be the King of Hell, Lucifer Morningstar.” A second wave of murmurs and side conversations emerged from the researchers, lasting slightly longer than the first.
“Dr. Collins,” Agent Fiore rose from her seat, clearly wanting to make her point have precedence, “why is my department being isolated from this case when it is clearly a theological matter?” She pretended to ask, it was clear to everyone what she was actually demanding.
And so the DTT representative reveals themselves, Collins though. “I’m sorry, Agent, but that is completely irrelevant, the case was assigned to my team and we get to determine who has access and who does not.” Collins replied, trying to be as professional as he could, though he fears that a slight sense of glee might have creeped through.
“Irrelevant,” the Agent scoffed, “this is a clear breach of foundation bounds, this entity lies within our department's specialty, by that alone we should be allowed access.” She argued.
Collins narrowed his gaze as the Fiore began to stare him down, “Agent, let me make something perfectly clear, and I want you to take this to your superiors: SCP-666 has seen more progress within weeks under me, compared to the several months that DTT had it.” The Agent snarled at Collins as he continued, “I’m sorry that you failed to understand, but the fact is that any resemblance between SCP-666 and Theology is exclusively external. This case will not be solved through theological means, SCP-666 is a delicate political situation with which we need to build a positive relationship for the Foundation’s benefit. Which is why the SCP-666 entities currently on site are guests and will be released. And I can’t stress enough that not you, nor Eta-77, nor anyone from the Department of Tactical Theology will have any access to SCP-666 or the entities.” Collins asserted firmly, pausing for a good second for the sake of emphasis. “Do I make myself clear.”
“Hunh, the little doctor has teeth after all.” Clef commented, still with that smile on his face.
Agent Fiore attempted to counter: “Watch your tone Doctor, remember that I-“
“Have no jurisdiction regarding this case, and will not interfere with it.” Bright cut in, as everybody in the room seemed to turn toward him. “I fully support Collins’s views on SCP-666. Collins progress has been undeniable, I mean the man just came back from Hell and has gone above and beyond in the amount of information he gathered. Therefore if he doesn’t want DTT to get involved, then, frankly Agent, I think you should pack up your cross and leave Collins to his business.” Bright has no clear status within the foundation, it is unknown what rank he holds, what clearance he has, and who he answers to, what is known is that the O-5’s are very favorable toward him. Collins almost let his jaw drop open at what he witnessed, though he was confident that he could keep DTT at bay, he didn’t think it would be with Bright’s help.
“Once again, I second that.” Wilcox added, “Eta-77’s presence was only requested in case of future attacks where ordinary means proved ineffective. The amount of requests I’ve received to include your people into this-” He pointed to the Agent, “has become intolerable, and I will gladly sign off on Collins’s proposal to have DTT excluded from the SCP-666 case unless specifically requested.” With that Agent Fiore returned to her seat, childishly crossing her arms in contempt.
“Please, continue, Dr. Collins.” Clef invited, sitting back in his chair, as he waited.
Collins took an extra couple seconds to reframe his thoughts before finally moving on, with a large image of Charlie appearing behind him. “My team set out because of a letter that was sent back with one of the D-class test subjects. The address on said letter brought us to an establishment called The Hazbin Hotel . The hotel belongs to this individual, labeled 666-5-CM, we’re not sure she sent the letter, however she may be the most valuable entity we have encountered yet, as she claims to be Lucifer’s daughter.” Collins expected another wave of quiet discussion, except it never came, as everyone just sat silently and waited for him to continue. “Despite what many of you may believe, 5-CM is kind-hearted, gentile and largely passive, the team actually is on good terms with her.”
“What, did you sit down for tea with her?” Clef remarked, clearly joking as he was completely unaware of how close to the truth he actually was.
“Coffee actually,” Collins corrected, “it was quite good too.”
Clef audibly laughed, “No wonder you hate DTT, you’re best friends with the antichrist.”
Collins chuckled slightly before swiftly moving on, “It is believed that she may be one of the most powerful entities in Hell, though is reluctant to use said power. Even when my team proved actively hostile, she refused to demonstrate any sort of aggression.” Moving from one topic to the next, a large image of the hotel’s exterior was projected behind him. “Her willingness to cooperate and high rank in Hell's social structure makes her exceptionally valuable. Perhaps strangest of all she believes in ‘redemption’, as she calls it. Her mission goal is to effectively redeem sinner demons and get them into heaven.”
“Confirming the existence of heaven, do her methods work?” Bright asked.
“That is unknown, even to 5-CM, this endeavor of hers seems to be recent and has had no success so far.” Collins explained, “The few other residents of the hotel seem to have doubts that it’s even possible. However I do think that it is a valuable area of study for the foundation, not only to teach us about how Hell and Heaven work but also to gain favor with 5-CM, and the Morningstar family in general.” With every word Collins hoped he was pulling more and more people to his side, it was clear Wilcox and, unexpectedly, Bright saw the potential of his work, but the rest remained unsure. If he wanted everything he might need for future operations, then he was going to have to pull at least a couple more to his side.
Collins gave it his all, going on for hours about every detail that he learned both first hand and from the entities he talked to. Everything Alastor had told him about the power dynamic of Hell, the sheer potential behind mutual cooperation between Hell and the foundations, the Organization of Pentagram city, the anarchic state of it all, and so much more. Letting nothing go unmentioned, in his quest to enthrall as many of the senior researchers as he could, yet he could only hope that it was working.
“...Which brings me to my final point,” Collins concluded, finally starting to wrap up the rather extended board meeting. “I find that SCP-666 is not of suitable danger to warrant it being considered a threat to all humanity. I propose the motion to Remove the Apollyon designation from SCP-666.”
“You want to reduce the classification of an entity that has just caused a containment breach?” Dr. Garcia questioned, in the first time that she’s spoken up since the meeting began.
“Yes,” Collins confirmed, “I won’t deny how dangerous SCP-666 is, and it certainly belongs in keter level containment, but Hell simply doesn’t have the power structure, organization, or militancy to prove a threat to humanity. It was feared that a full-blown invasion of earth was imminent, but that is simply not true. Some smaller scale events are bound to happen, but nothing that is even remotely world-ending. It’s just not in Hell’s interests.”
“Alright, I see where this is going,” Dr.Clef announced, “What kind of boys do you need, Collins?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Collins reacted, confusion entangled with disbelief.
“You’ve made it pretty clear that you wanna go down there again, Collins, so unless you wanna be butt-naked whilst you’re there, we’re gonna have to train up some more boys and make a new MTF unit to cover your rear.” Clef explained, in his own unique way. “So, what kind of boys do you need?”
Collins took a moment to consider, “A militant and mobile force would be useful, something to cover large parts of the city quickly, similar to the current setup of Nu-7. According to several entities, fire does very little to them, however I would suggest requisitioning protective equipment similar to that of Epsilon-9.” Collins surmised, really thinking off the top of his head, “Otherwise I am really not the best person to ask, I would forward you to Mjolnir-3 of Nu-7, since they have actual combat experience with the entities.”
“Well then, that you shall have.” Clef confirmed.
“I appreciate it,” Collins paused, waiting for anyone else to make announcements or ask questions, yet the room remained silent. “If there is no other news or questions, then this meeting is adjourned.” He announced, as several of the attendees, particularly Agent Fiore, jumped up to leave.
From within the commotion, came one of the attendees, a younger man in a lab coat, who approached Collins at the front of the room.
“Doctor,” the man greeted, ushering Collins slightly toward the side, moving a couple paces away from everyone else. “Dr. Xyank, I’m from Temporal Anomalies.” He introduced himself, extending a hand out toward him.
Collins took it, giving a brisk shake, “of course, good to meet you doctor.”
Xyank released as he swiftly moved on, “We were wondering if it would be possible to set up some monitoring equipment and personnel for whenever further testing with SCP-666 continues.” He stated directly, “You know, just to make sure you don’t rip any holes into time, or accidentally start altering history.”
“No, no, I totally understand.” Collins assured, “We actually did some preliminary tests, and from those it seems that Hell works on the same time-spectrum as us.”
“Yea, no, our work and research tend to be a bit more complicated than that.” Xyank stated, a clear sense of superiority in his tone.
“Of course,” Collins directed his attention toward Wilcox standing near the door, “I would redirect you toward Dr. Wilcox, he’s the supervisor of my operations, I’m sure he can arrange something.”
“Yup” Xyank confirmed, “Keep up the good work, Collins.” He stated, giving him a slight pat on the shoulder before moving on, proceeding toward Wilcox.
Seemingly lining up to talk to him, as soon as Collins returned to his podium, Dr. Bright walked up beside him. “You did good, Colly, looks like you got most of them on your side.”
“Oh, well um, thanks Bright.” Collins stuttered awkwardly, “I have to say though, I wasn’t expecting that intervention from you. I appreciate it.” He stated genuinely, giving a slight smile to Bright, “if there’s a dozen of you in Hell, though, then I’m still nuking the place.”
“Oh, I’ll be there to push the button with you, that many of me is unbearable, even for me.” Bright Chuckled, “Anyway, just see it as making up for past mistakes. Regardless, I need to go, they’ve been bugging me to report back to-… actually I can’t tell you that, See ya, later Colly.” Bright waved off, suddenly departing as he strolled away and through the door of the conference room.
Now if only he’d stop calling me that, Collins considered, meandering in place as he waited for the rest of the attendees to make their way out. Gradually the room became emptier, as the last of the attendees left. Lastly if all was Dr. Garcia, who’d taken her time in gathering her things before leaving.
Walking up to the doorway, Collins stopped the Doctor before she could leave. “Dr. Garcia, I was wondering if your thoughts were on everything I uncovered.”
She paused, presumably thinking of an appropriate response, “I think the information you gathered is impressive, and it’s certainly progress.” She stated with steely emotionlessness, as if it was something pre-recorded in her brain, yet at the same time there was a sort of irritation in her tone. “You have promise as a researcher. It’s clear they’re trusting your views much more than-… I just hope you know what you’re doing, Collins.” She proceeded past him as she left the conference room.
Now there was just him left. Collins took one last gander around the room, a smile on his face as he could smell progress in the air. Briefly considering everything the researchers had said, the surprising support form Wilcox and Bright, The strangeness that was Dr. Clef, and how he was able to stick it to DTT, before finally shutting off the lights and closing the door on his way out.
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Though Mark-Twain national park provided an excellent location to hide a large underground complex that is well outside of the view of the civilian populace, it also made getting to it and leaving a pain in Collins’s side. Granted he would have a scenic view of the forests, but the drive would take hours and considering how late working hours could get, the dirt path before him was almost pitch black. Even his high-beams only gave him a dozen meters of visibility before he was blind again. Then again, the foundation monitored these roads like a hawk and traffic was of no concern, really the only thing he had to worry about was deer.
Finally reaching one of the public roads, he was well out of Foundation observation but was at least driving on a proper asphalt road, rather than the dirt paths the foundation was using to remain ‘discreet’.
Lounging back, his drive became much smoother, as Collins only just noticed how he could see nothing out of his rear-view mirror. Not that it mattered since everything was pitch-black either way, but he could still get pulled over by rangers. Deciding it wasn’t worth the risk, Collins reached up to adjust it back into place.
Fiddling with it for a while, the view through the rear-window of his car finally became clear, alongside something else. Just barely illuminated by the reflections of his headlights, Collins could make out the vague outline of a person sitting on the backseat. “Jesus Christ!” He yelled, turning the wheel ninety degrees, fishtailing his car across the road as it came to a screeching halt. His heart seemed to beat at a thousand miles per hour, as Collins fumbled with his seat-belt and practically jumped out of his car. Racing across to the other side of the street, Collins stood in the car’s headlight, at least he could see.
Casually, the figure opened the backdoor of the car, stepping out with a certain due diligence, as they gradually made their way to the front. “That was uncalled for,” the figure stated, coming into view as they leaned on the hood of the car, directly opposite to Collins. “Do you know what would’ve happened to us if that went wrong, then again, you know exactly where we’d end up.” The figure was a rather scrawny looking man, dressed in more formal attire, with a large quaff of hair and a smile worse than even Dr. Clef’s.
“W-wha- you’re,” Collins stuttered, if the figure was who he thought, then it’s remarkable how well they hid it.
“Oh, I’m sorry, is all this-” the figure hovered his hands over himself, “throwing you off?” He asked, to which Collins didn’t reply. “Well, I suppose there’s no point in hiding it.” Holding his hand out, the figure snapped his fingers, as he disappeared into a cloud of shadowy black smoke. Once it dissipated, Collins could not have had his eyes pulled open wider nor his jaw dropped any lower. Where the scrawny man once stood, was now a red suited figure, with pale grey skin, blood red eyes, horns, and a bright golden smile of yellowed teeth. “There, far better now, isn’t it?” SCP-666-3-A asked.
Collins was at a loss for words, there were a million things he wanted to say and they all got lodged in his throat at once, finally blurting out, “A- A-Alastor?”
“Yes indeedy, the one and only.” The Demon continued cheerily, “Why I knew that after I found one of your little lab rats, that you fellows would bring something new to the underworld. And how right I was, unfortunately my poetry wasn’t quite up to scratch, but I had just trimmed my claws.” Alastor laughed and jumped around as if he was on some sort of stage show.
“You sent the letter?” Collins asked, still trying to process everything that’s happening.
“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner ladies and gentlemen. Indeed, the fine Doctor has just found out who his mysterious benefactor was.”
“Stop it,” Collins demanded, scratching the side of his head, “What do you want with me? Hell, what are you even doing here?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Alastor stated in a more dead tone, making Collins almost wish he went back to being some goofy stage performer. “I’ll tell you like I tell everyone else, entertainment my dear friend.”
“So what? You’re staging all this for a laugh? But why invite the Foundation to Hell and specifically to the hotel.” Collins asked, simultaneously a pair of lights began traveling up the road towards them.
“Well that seems to be all for tonight folks, seems we’ve run out of time,” Alastor announced, holding his hand out like he did earlier. “Till we meet again, Doctor.” He stated before snapping his fingers as he once again erupted in smoke.
“Wait no!” Collins called out, rushing forward to somehow prevent him from leaving, yet the space the Demon once occupied was now empty.
The pair of headlights began to move closer and closer, till a truck with a large sheriff's star printed on the side pulled up to Collins’s car. The door popped open, with a man in a ranger uniform leaning out from the driver’s seat, “Hey! You alright, something happened?” The man asked.
Collins just remained staring into space for a moment, as he tried to figure out what had just happened. “Uh, yea- yea, I’m fine.” Collins finally answered, “Just a deer in the road, scurried off somewhere.” Wanting to get out of the situation as soon as possible, Collins just got back into his car and drove off. Unsure of what to make of everything, the only thing he knew for certain was that his case just became a lot more complicated.
Notes:
So how was it?
I previously alluded to some cameos from other foundation personnel, and here they are. Again I’m not super well read on the foundation staff I depicted so I hope I was true to their characters. I have plans for Chapter 11 but haven’t started writing yet, but it should be shorter, (then again this was also meant to be, and we see how that ruined out).
Anyway, I thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and I’ll gladly take any feedback you have to give.
Chapter 11: Breakthrough
Summary:
Dr. Collins finds himself in the midst of his research on SCP-666, when a surprising turn of events suddenly and drastically changes his plans for the day.
Notes:
Whooo! This story has 10,000 hits, I never thought this would happen, and it’s absolutely amazing. Thank you all so much for reading.
It’s finally here
I’ve got a fair amount of announcements, so let’s get those out of the way.Firstly STOP Spamming me with questions about when the chapters are going to be released. I understand that people are excited to read the next chapter and I’m happy that people are enjoying it. But it takes time to write these things, time which I currently don’t have much of due to real life. This chapter took longer due to just how long it is, but also because of personal reasons which kept me from writing. However spamming ‘when will the next chapter be out?’ In the comments, and ultimately my inbox, doesn’t help, it's just frustrating. I want to be able to see the comments in my inbox so I can respond to them in a timely manner, however I’m not going to do that if it’s all just spam. I don’t know when chapters will be ready either, so please just have patience. Chapters will come out when they are ready.
Now there was also the matter of Dr. Collins’ appearance, namely that I never described him, as some people pointed out. I have my reasons, which are listed below, however I understand people wanting a description of the main character, so I am willing to concede on that front. So just put something brief in the comments and if enough people want it I’ll add in a small excerpt describing Collins in detail (btw I’ll make sure it flows with the chapter, so it won’t just be stapled on).
Why I didn’t describe Dr. Collins:
Since the whole story is from Collins’ perspective, I like having him as primarily being a voice, with his actual appearance playing no real part. Though I have my own vision of how Collins looks, I don’t actually have anything concrete on his appearance, since I wanted to focus on his personality as his primary representation as a character. Kinda like how the purpose of a lot of silent or near-silent protagonists in games are there, in part, to let players create that character’s personality through how they play. Similarly, I thought it would be interesting to let people imagine Collins to look however they wanted entirely based on how they read and interpret his character.Now that's all out of the way. Chapter 11 was quite an ordeal, I said this would be a shorter chapter, instead It turned into the longest chapter yet, with literally a little bit of everything sprinkled in.
So without further ado, I hope you all enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 11: Breakthrough
In the last week the Foundation had uncovered more about SCP-666 than they ever had before. In no small part to first Dr. Collins' expedition and now having the assistance from SCP-666-4-SG. The Prince was able to give useful information about every aspect of Hell and yet after every interview there was more and more they needed from him. This being the predicament that Dr. Collins found himself in, every time he had to go in it became harder and harder to talk to the owl. He promised that he would be returned to Hell and that he wasn’t a prisoner, yet they kept keeping him for longer and longer.
Collins swallowed hard as he meandered his way into the interrogation room, perhaps trying to down the last of his nerves in one go, not that it worked. Stolas was already seated at one side of the large steel table dead-center in the room. Though he was in better shape than when he first arrived, the Demon still seemed depleted in some ways, as the towering figure sat there with a slightly hunched forward posture, not caring enough anymore to maintain appearances.
Setting down his note-pad and folder on the table, Collins slid back to the chair opposite the Demon. Reacting to the scraping of the chair, Stolas finally looked at Collins directly, as he took a seat. “Good morning, I hope our accommodations were-”
“Comfortable enough?” Stolas finished the sentence, “You’ve said that every morning since I agreed to come here with you.”
“I’m sorry, we weren’t expecting you to need to stay this long.” Collins excused, the pit in his stomach only got worse, “We’ve tried to be as accommodating as possible without compromising Foundation security. We’ve given you the best residence we could, adapted your meal plan to your desire, and let you pick the times for these interviews.”
“And yet, despite my repeated requests, I haven’t been allowed to leave, don’t know the status of my companions, and haven’t been allowed to speak to my daughter.” Stolas sighed, “Be honest with me, am I still a ‘guest’ or have I become a prisoner?”
Collins remained quiet for a while, unsure of how to answer said question. “I can give you the status of your companions, if you agree to cooperate with one more interview.” Collins offered, “We thank you for all that you’ve helped with, you’ve been invaluable in translating the book, and teaching us about Hell, there are just a few more pieces we need your help to put in place.”
“Last interview, is that a promise?” Stolas asked, the slightest hint of hope visible in his eyes.
“In my line of work, you don’t get to make promises, unfortunately. Not any solid ones at least.” Collins admitted, the Demon had a point, He’d promised his return and yet here they were. “But, from how things are looking so far, it is likely.” Stolas didn’t respond, just staring blankly into space as if he were considering everything that had transpired. “Sorry, it’s the best I can do.”
Again Stolas remained slow in his response, taking almost a full minute before answering the question, “Alright, give me the list.” He requested.
Collins produced a report from his folder, containing the status of all the previously incarcerated SCP-666 entities, “SCP-666-1-B and 1-L were released four days ago after being interviewed once each, 1-MI and 1-MO were released three days ago after being interviewed once each, 4-OG was released two days ago after being interviewed twice, you are the only entity still being contained.” Collins revealed, “All interviews were conducted by me, and all entities were escorted by Foundation security through the portals and back to your manor.”
“And I’m just expected to believe that?” Stolas questioned, “trust in your foundation’s word, which hasn’t been too reputable mind you.” He countered.
Collins slid the report across the table toward the Demon, “See for yourself,” he suggested as Stolas took the piece of paper in his hands. “If you absolutely want I can pull the body-cam footage from the agents that delivered them.”
Stolas closed his eyes and exhaled exasperatedly, setting the paper back down on the table, as he stared across at Collins. “I would like that, thank you. What did you want to know, Doctor?”
Collins collected his notes and folders in front of him, quickly shuffling through them before finally starting the interview. “During our translation of the Demonic language and the Grimoire, we noticed it made a mention of something called Asmodian crystals. The book was curiously vague about them, nothing about how they work, how they’re made, or what the term ‘Asmodian’ even means. All we know is that Succubi use them to travel to the overworld. We were hoping that you would fill in the gaps.”
Stolas raised a brow at Collins, giving a slight unsure chuckle, “I can’t give you anymore than the book does.” Stolas responded. “Asmodeus is the king of lust, it is the ring he controls. Despite his vocality, he is actually quite good at keeping secrets, he certainly has kept the one about the crystals.” Stolas sighed, “All I can tell you is that he directly distributed them to the Succubi and Incubi. The rest is just as much of a mystery to me, I don’t know where he gets them, or really any of the specifics behind how they work.”
“But how?” Collins asked, a mild desperation in his tone, as it was the first real hurdle they’d encountered since receiving Stolas’s help. “The book has very detailed explanations about how the magical portal system works, why are these crystals an exception?”
“The Grimoire is not an encyclopedia of Hell, Doctor, it is more of a manual regarding my job as a Goetian Prince.” Stolas explained, “Hence it covers all the info on runic portals, and various elements of magic, beyond that are my own additions, but those are limited to what other Demons are willing to tell me, which is often very little. For my line of work, all I need to know is that they exist. If you want to know more about it, you’ll have to go speak to the king of lust himself.” Stolas concluded, leaving an unsatisfied frown on Collins' face, “Is that all?”
“Not quite,” Collins revealed, returning to his files as he flipped through them and proceeded to the next subject. “We have carefully reviewed all the footage from both my own expedition and your breakout. It seemed you became noticeably weaker as time went on, easily dispatching almost two platoons of Site security during the breakout, yet we’re bested by the squad that was escorting me during our encounter. How come?”
Stolas raised a brow, “Is saying that I was ‘tired’ enough of an explanation?”
“The foundation certainly won’t be satisfied,” Collins stated, “and I personally believe there is more to it than that.”
Stolas clenched his beak in reluctance, “Well, it certainly is a part of the whole explanation.” Yet he continued regardless, “Exhaustion, emotion, and even something as simple as sustenance, can all affect how well a Demon can control their powers, with training, some can achieve greater powers and use them for longer. Eventually, however, those biological factors will all eventually begin to weigh on a Demon’s body and mind. Using said powers will become more and more difficult until they eventually, simply, can’t anymore.”
“Yet these powers, um magic, must come from somewhere,” Collins concluded, “It can’t just be created from nothing.”
Again, Stolas paused before continuing, staring at the table, the walls, the ceiling, anything but Collins, as if he were desperately trying to hide some great secret. Finally Stolas shook his head and stared Collins down, his eyes were hardly threatening, merely tired. “That’s one of Hell’s great mysteries. It’s really quite simple though.” He sighed, “Most Demons don’t even know how their powers work, then again most can’t be bothered enough to search for the answers. Hellish energy is just a natural part of Hell’s atmosphere, the Demonic body acts as a natural conduit for it, with training, Demons can shape that energy in a variety of ways. Even the Demonic body however, can only handle so much. Channeling Hellish energy is a tremendous strain on our biology, every Demon has their cut-off point when they will eventually just shut down.”
“As in Death?” Collins asked.
“Not necessarily,” Stolas clarified, “Usually it’s manifested in extreme fatigue, sometimes nastier symptoms can show too, like nausea or fainting. Yet others still, mostly powerful hellborn, can push themselves indefinitely. Eventually, though, the body will become too strained to channel anymore, continuing after that point and they run the risk of physically tearing themselves apart.” Stolas went quiet for a moment again, his eyes drifting down and away from Collins, “Which was going to happen to me.” He stated quietly, if it weren’t for the sound-insulated and deafeningly silent room, Collins might not have even heard it.
“Which is why you were so desperate to end our encounter peacefully.” Collins concluded, as Stolas merely nodded to confirm his speculation. He began to loosely scrounge his papers together, gathering them up in his hands before tapping the edge against the table to straighten them. “Thank you for clearing that up, once my guys have vetted this and nothing new arises, then it will indeed be our last interview. If only certain other entities could be as direct and to the point, it would make these interviews much shorter, and less painful.” Collins rose from his seat, beginning to move toward the door.
Stolas chuckled slightly, “I’m aware, it’s a good tactic though, worked for him in the past.” Stolas turned toward the doctor as he just approached the door, “If this is the end of it all, is the book going to be returned to me?”
Collins paused; he had no idea what to say. The obvious answer was ‘No’ but he couldn’t risk alienating the Demon, especially since he has proven his value, then again lying might damage any future relationship and make the prince noncooperative if they ever needed him in future. “I’m sure we can arrange something.” He stated, “I’ll send someone to show you the footage.” Quickly continuing through the door before Stolas could say anything else. There was a part of him that truly felt sorry for the Demon, he wasn’t lying when he said that this will likely be their last interview. The Grimoire, however, was an open and shut case, either the Foundation made some sort of deal, or they kept it by force. Either Way, it was going to remain in Human hands.
Collins made his way back out through the control room and into the familiar pristine cold concrete corridors of Site-59, whereupon he was immediately ambushed by Dr. Wilcox.
“Collins!” He announced suddenly, seeming to almost appear out of nowhere, as Collins hadn’t seen him until they were directly beside one another. Wilcox was holding out a Manila-envelope in his direction, “Schedule has changed for today, some stuff’s been shuffled around.”
Tucking the folders, he was already holding beneath his arm, Collins took the envelope that Wilcox held toward him. Holding it out in front of him, Collins opened it. Almost immediately his eyes darted wide open, “Woah-“ he reacted, “This is completely different from what was scheduled today.” Additionally, he noticed something strange, “Who’s this Dr. Evelyn Greyson? None of her stuff is listed.”
“She’s eyes and ears for the O-5’s.” Wilcox explained.
“Does that mean-“ Collins paused as the realization suddenly came to mind, “Oh no.”
“Oh yes,” Wilcox confirmed, “This came all the way from up top and she’s gonna be following us around all day.” He added, with a frustrated smile on his face. “Oh, also I was told to give you this.” Wilcox held out a brass key toward Collins, which he reluctantly took. “Official ceremony is in a couple days, but I was told you’d need it now. Congratulations, go check out your new office, Collins.” Without another word, he took off down the corridor.
Collins stared suspiciously at the key, specifically where it led. Site-59 was as modern as any other containment site, almost everything was electronic, including most office doors. The only thing he could think of, was that some of the fancier private offices, that high ranking personnel are given, still have old-school deadbolts. Suddenly snapping to, Collins just noticed Wilcox’s departure, with the man already being well down the corridor. “Can you also send someone to show the prince the bodycam footage from the 666 entities releases!” Collins yelled after the doctor, cupping his hand around his mouth to amplify the sound.
Wilcox didn’t even stop in his tracks, merely sticking a thumbs up over his shoulder, as he kept walking. With that matter settled, Collins proceeded down the corridor in the opposite direction, Time to find out where this guy leads to, he thought, keeping the small brass key in the palm of his hand.
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Only a couple hours had passed since the day began, and paperwork had already piled up beyond the limit. Or at least that’s the appearance Dr. Garcia gave off as she walked back to her office, with a dozen folders, stuffed to the brim with reports, stacked in her hands. It honestly made her wonder what the point of her fancy title and doctorate was if she was acting as a glorified secretary. Ordinarily she’d have one of her many underlings account for this kind of menial work, but this time they called for her attention personally, for some reason.
Regardless she trudged on, managing the folders in her hands as she gradually began to approach her office at the end of the corridor. On her approach, the once distant door grew clearer, and more strange, standing wide open. Garcia started to pick up the pace as she jogged up to her office, stopping when she came within a meter of the door. Begin it to fume, she stared at the chaos within.
Her office had been turned into an apocalypse of office supplies, with papers scattered across her desk and floor, all her filing cabinets were torn open, as seemingly every report she had ever filed was scattered across the space. In the center of it all was a rather smug man, in his early thirties, with messy hair, dressed in a lab coat. Alongside him was a younger, female, assistant, dressed the same way.
“COLLINS!” Garcia yelled at the top of her lungs, practically throwing her folders aside and into the hall, as she barged inside. Going straight for Collins, who seemed almost happy that she showed up. “What the Hell is the meaning of this! Have you gone insane?!”
“It certainly seems that you have,” Collins countered, grinning smugly directly at his superior, “considering you thought you could get away with any of this.” He mentioned, simultaneously a handful of white-clad Site security guards entered the room after Garcia, blocking the only exit. Suddenly everything seemed to fit in place, Garcia’s eyes growing wider than seemingly possible. She knew exactly what had just been uncovered. “Say, you remember Agent Davis, from Pi-1? Weird to think that he used to be our greatest lead on this case.” Collins reminisced, to which Garcia had nothing to say. “Always thought it was odd that an Agent in an MTF unit that is all about observing and reporting, would fail to file a report that was specifically requested.” Collins produced a single sheet of paper with Field Report boldly written at the top, and held it facing Dr. Garcia. “Dated to the 1st of July, two days after I filed my request, signed by an Agent Rustam Davis, of Pi-1.”
“All this over a single misplaced report?” Garcia questioned, shifting glancing over her shoulder at the security behind her.
“Oh, no, of course not, it’s about the literal piles of missing forms.” Collins explained, moving over toward her desk as he picked up a handful of other papers. “Let’s see: Materials Request, signed Dr. Franklin Collins, Personnel Transfer Request, Signed Dr. Collins, MTF Transfer Request, Signed- well, you get the gist.” Collins held the papers out in front of him, almost seeming as astounded as Dr. Garcia. “So much time and effort wasted!” He shouted, throwing the papers across the room, scattering on the floor. “So it wasn’t just gross incompetence, you were undermining me since the very beginning.” Collins sucked his teeth, leaning back against the edge of the desk with his arms crossed. “Imagine how much farther we’d be right now if it wasn’t for everything you did.” He considered the whole situation for himself and the massive thorn in his side it had all been. “Oh, and that’s not even the best part yet. Phyllis, if you would-“ He requested, as she wandered behind the desk, retrieved something from its bottom drawer and passed it onto Collins. Keeping the object hidden in his hand for a while, he eventually revealed his smoking-gun, pointing it directly toward Dr. Garcia, ensuring she knew exactly what it was she was looking at. Clenched between Collins’ fingers was a level 4 personnel clearance card, one with a small picture of a bald dark-skinned man, with Dr. James S Wilcox written beside it. ”Look familiar?” Collins asked rhetorically, as Garcia huffed in defeat, closing her eyes, knowing she was done for.
Collins nodded toward the security guards, giving them the go-ahead. Garcia didn’t resist as they calmly placed handcuffs on her wrists and escorted her out of the office. A rat caught in a cage.
“It doesn’t really make any sense though.” Phyllis mentioned, “I mean, why put you on an assignment just to get in your way at every step?” She pondered, “not to mention, why keep all this evidence around?”
“I have no idea.” Collins replied, starting to pace around the room as he considered the potential reasons. “Keeping the card makes sense if she was planning to use it more. How did she even get one in the first place?” He wondered aloud, papers crunching beneath his feet as he kept wandering around. Finally, he just shrugged his shoulders, “I’ll try and look into it later, for now my schedule had been completely up-” He paused suddenly as he noticed a figure in the door of the office, it was someone of shorter stature, dressed in one of the brand-new shiny silver, fire-retardant suits that were requisitioned from MTF Epsilon-9. The bulk obscured any semblance of body-shape or gender, while the suit’s helmet with a grey reflective visor blotted out their face. Meanwhile the figure peered curiously inside of the room. “-ended.” Collins finished, suddenly realizing just who it might be. “Sorry, you wouldn't’ be-”
“Dr. Greyson?” The figure asked, a feminine tone clearly being present, though strangely lacking any accent at all. “Yes, I am.” The figure confirmed, “and you have made quite a mess of your office, Dr. Collins.”
“Oh, it’s not-” Collins tried to excuse, quickly realizing that this was not a good location for this, “Phyllis, pull Taylor and some of the other guys from out department up here and get this stuff filed away properly.” He abruptly ordered, dashing to the side of Dr. Greyson, as he quickly led her into the hall. Speeding off toward the next event listed on the schedule. “I am truly sorry about that; I wasn’t expecting you at this time.” He apologized, getting a good distance away from the utter disaster that was the office.
“It’s alright, I am not here for your office, Collins.” She reiterated.
“It’s not my office, it is, well - was the office of my superior.” Collins excused again.
“It is now.” Greyson clarified, causing Collins to stop suddenly, “Dr. Garcia was on the chopping block, you’re her replacement, congratulations.”
Collins felt as though he was unable to move, blankly staring at the Doctor a few feet in front of him, “I - was promoted?” Collins asked.
“Yes,” Greyson confirmed, “Come on now, we still have plenty to do for today.” She ushered, continuing along the hall, as Collins lagged behind.
Snapping out of his imagination, Collins briskly jogged forward and caught up to the Doctor. “Permission to speak freely?” He asked, unnaturally professionally, even for him.
“You’ve always been free to.” Greyson responded.
“I mean in a way that won’t put me in front of the O-5’s.”
Greyson stopped first this time, Collins barely catching himself from bumping into her. “That depends on what you say.” She answered, in a cold tone, one that provided no comfort for anything Collins could say.
Collins hesitated, “was everything- all that’s happened this morning, was it all set up?”
The air seemed to be sucked out of the corridor, as the cold visor of the suit, Dr. Greyson wore, stared straight through Collins' soul. “Choose for yourself. Wilcox just so happened to be given the order to give you access to your new office early, an office formerly owned by someone who was at the top of our list of suspects for the containment breach. Meanwhile there just so happened to be a computing error that led to said suspect being called to pick up twelve folders filled with a hundred-and-twenty-three blank report sheets, that had a high-enough classification that no one else was allowed to touch them. Giving you the perfect window to discover any evidence, as you went snooping around their office.” Greyson explained, in perfect synchronicity to the events that just unfolded. “If I were you, Collins, I would consider it a very lucky chain of coincidence indeed.” As if it were hardly even worth the mentions, she silently turned and continued walking, with Collins having no choice but to tag alongside her.
Their next target appeared conveniently, if Collins could even believe in such a context anymore, before them, as Sgt. Butler crossed into the hall in front of them. Dressed in plain fatigues, with the three chevrons on his shoulder, he carried hardly anything on him as he meandered about the facility.
“Ah, Sergeant, perfect timing.” Collins greeted, picking up the pace as he got a few feet ahead of Dr. Greyson, ensuring he got to the Sergeant first. “I had a couple questions for you, if you’d kindly tag along.” Collins announced, quickly gesturing Butler along before he could do anything to interject.
“What is this all about, doc?” Butler asked, eyeing the doctor in the strange suit, as Collins practically shoved him along.
“Just some things that have come up.” Collins briefly mentioned, “Plus I have a personal question as well.” He explained, guiding the Sergeant further along, meanwhile Butler remained as professionally stiff as his career entailed, as if he was bracing himself for bad news. Then again, who wouldn’t? Considering the menace tailing them. Collins at least has the fortune that several O-5s need to be in agreement before being fired, Butler didn’t have said buffer. “How’s your guy been? I heard you went to visit him.”
Butler paused, as if it wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “Devis is, um, fine.” He murmured hesitantly, “He’s still out, more surgeries in the works for him, but he’s stable.” He elaborated, “Surgeon said it was a miracle he was alive at all, gave his compliments to François.”
“Good, good.” Collins replied in a rather contradictory and grim tone. Greyson followed the pair closely, though provided ample room to not intrude. She was just being polite though, as it was still blatant that she was listening in. “During said expedition, Sergeant, you formed a remarkably good plan for our escape. Acknowledging and preserving our valuable relationship with SCP-666-5-CM, all while disguising it all under your usual military bravado.” Butler went silent, as his eyes quickly darted away from Collins, turning to a tunnel-vision like stare down the hall. “Let’s face it, I doubt that you or any of your men were interested in a several mile hike after everything that transpired that day, I know I certainly didn’t. It could always be coincidence, actual militarism, and the desire to work your men, which is why I need you to be perfectly clear with me.” Collins stopped suddenly, followed by Butler who still refused to look at him. “I’m sure you understand that there are some things that you’re not allowed to know. Sergeant, did you read my file?” Collins asked coldly.
Butler was stationary for a moment, glancing back at Dr. Greyson, who’s visor didn’t betray any hint of emotion or response, before finally looking back to Collins. “I did,” He admitted, “You gotta understand, doc, we were trapped, and this need-to-know bullshit did nothing but endanger my men. So yes, I read your file while you were asleep, that way I could strategize better and keep my guys safe.” He explained, though it was clear that the doctors had already made up their minds. “Ah, Hell, doesn’t matter now anyway, does it?”
Collins listened closely to everything Butler said yet remained silent. He glanced back to Dr. Greyson, for some reason, not like she was providing anything, as the grey visor just stared back. “Just come with me, Sergeant.” Collins urged, resuming the journey down the hall. Butler hesitated, but eventually followed suit as well, as did Greyson.
Continuing for a while longer, Butler kept his military Stoicism, though it was clear from how his eyes darted around and how his hands were clenched that he was sweating bullets internally. Not that Collins could blame him, he felt exactly the same after being confronted by the O-5s. Fortunately, he was on the other side this time, though he wasn’t entirely sure that it was really any better.
Eventually they arrived before a large steel door, spanning the width of the hall, with Barely enough space on the wall for its control panned. Collins moved to the side, where controls were, above it hung a plaque that read, Staging Area. Pressing in a large red button, the electric mechanism within the doors began to whirr as they began to slide open. When they had fully moved out of the way, they revealed a passageway into a large hangar. The door they were at was one of many lining the wall, giving access from the facility, as large story-tall hanger-doors, on the far side, gave access to the outside. Within, there were close to a hundred vehicles scattered around, everything from Humvees and Bradleys to Apaches and Black Hawks that could fly out through a series of large hatches in the hanger’s ceiling. Even a dozen Foundation modified Abrahams tanks were situated off to the side, organized into their columns. Engineers rushing between vehicles as their pilots and crew meandered about.
What stood out primarily, however, was a formation of men situated just outside the doors that Collins and Butler stood at. Around eighty men in total, two platoons organized into rows of ten, flanked either side of the door. Shining with a silvery gleam, each man wore a similar fire-retardant suit as that worn by Dr. Greyson, modified to fit a more militant purpose. Overtop of the suits each soldier wore their carry rigs, alongside large Kevlar pauldrons on either shoulder, and a backpack covered in the same silvery protective material. Covering their heads was the same large silver hood, with opaque grey visors, attached to combat helmets with folded-up night vision and hearing protection.
Standing out from the rest, situated in the center of the formation, between the two ranks, was one soldier holding their helmet under their arm. A cowl covered the rest of the woman’s head, with only her face visible, a large, scarred patch covering the right side of her face alongside a patch stretching across and covering the eye. “Company ten-hut!” She called, as the eighty men, in perfect synchronization, simultaneously clicked their heels together and stood at attention.
Seemingly from whiplash, butler seemed frozen, stuck between emotions as it seemed his brain crashed. First it seemed that Collins was taking him to be executed, now he was confronted by this.
“You don’t wanna inspect your men, Captain?” Collins asked, as Butler's eyes suddenly darted toward him.
“C-ca- What?” He asked, seemingly staring through Collins as if he didn’t believe any part of what he had just heard.
“Allow me to introduce Mobile Task Force Xi-1, these newly formed battalions are under your command.”
Butler tentatively took steps forward, his eyes gazing with wonderment across the squadrons of soldiers. Eventually he made his way to Ward, squaring himself up to her, as she briskly raised a hand and held it level to her brow. Saluting the man as he did the same. He raised his brow as he noticed the newly added chevron stitched onto the side of her arm, making three total. “Finally made Sergeant, eh Ward.”
“Enh, almost five years of loyal service to the Foundation, they were going to have to do it eventually.” She grinned at him, “They gave me charge of Mjolnir-3,” she nodded her head toward the first line of soldiers in the battalion to the right, “there’s your boys Sarge, don’t worry I’ll take good care of them.” She assured, holding out her helmet toward Butler.
He took it in his hands, twisting and turning it around as he closely inspected it, “You sure my guys can move in this, Doc? It’s a lot of bulk to fight in.”
“The suits were designed for Epsilon-9, however, were modified to suit a more standard fighting style. There were some problems integrating some of the armor your squad usually wore, meaning the legs and arms are now mostly unprotected. The suits still retain their full fire-resistant capabilities, in addition to an integrated breathing filter, and a cooling under suit so nobody will boil alive inside of them.” Collins explained. Butler began to pace down the aisles of men, taking his time to gaze over the equipment each man carried. Slowly making his way around, Collins continued; “These two battalions were roughed up out of pre-existing task forces that met our requirements. There are plans for greater expansions and training, hence you’ll now report to Colonel Sherburn. You’ll be pleased to know that, since your squad is the only one to have experience with SCP-666, the Colonel has left the unit’s nickname and patch up to you.”
Butler sharply turned toward Collins, “Xi-1 is specifically for 666?” He asked to which Collins merely nodded. Butler scratched his chin, mindlessly staring between the soldiers as he thought. “Huh, shiny.” He murmured aloud.
A female pilot wandered past the formation, stopping as her eyes locked on a medic standing in the first row on the left. “Ooh la la, tu as l'air bien Alphonse, comme un courageux chevalier français!” The woman teased.
The medic’s head suddenly darted toward the pilot, grumbling mildly as a whistle sounded from another soldier in the crowd, meanwhile the woman wandered off, laughing.
“Chival- Hah!” Butler chuckled, suddenly coming to the realization, “I’ve got it.” He mentioned, marching back up beside Ward. “Mobile Task Force Xi-1, “Knights in Shining Armor.” He announced, to a rather silent response.
Ward hummed, “I like it,” In response, “just gotta draw up a unit patch and we’re good to go.”
Hearing Dr. Greyson mumble behind him, “Hmm, interesting.” Collins turned toward her as she elaborated, “You’ve just discovered that the captain commuted a major infraction, yet you decide to continue with his promotion anyways.”
“Butler’s foresight is what saved both me and the rest of the squad, plus put us in a good position with SCP-666. Especially considering that the situation is a rather delicate one, it’ll be useful to have someone experienced in a high position of command.” Collins explained, though Greyson seemed detached, merely scribbling down notes rather than actively paying attention. “I’m willing to go through all the paperwork to have Butler’s infraction cleared.” He added.
The grey visor darted up at Collins, “The Captain has nothing to worry about, after all he’s not the one under review.” Collins' eye twitched slightly after hearing that, however Dr. Greyson quickly moved on, “Go get yourself ready Collins, I’ll call up Wilcox and some of Alpha-1, so we may begin the next phase.”
“Alpha-1?” Collins inquired as he instinctually raised his brow, “I thought the whole point of creating a new MTF was for the sake of traveling into SCP-666?”
“And they will,” Greyson replied, “but what we’re doing down there now is of far higher classification than any other MTF has.”
“But if we’re going to talk to them again then we’ll just end up in the same standoff as the first time.” Collins argued, this time Greyson was paying full attention to everything he was saying. “Mjolnir-3 has built some, even if very little, sense of trust with the entities. Let me take some of Xi-1 with us, even if it is just to coerce the entities into cooperating, then you could keep them in the dark if anything classified comes up.”
Greyson tapped her pen against her clipboard, seemingly considering Collins' proposal. Beyond the visor she could be thinking God-knows-what, there wasn’t any way to tell. “Alright, Collins-“ she finally replied, “you’ve convinced me. Pick someone from Xi-1, however they will immediately disengage from the operation as soon as ordered.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Collins acknowledged, swiftly turning on his heels as he reproached the company of soldiers. The question now was: who would be best to take? It had to be someone from Mjolnir-3, narrowing it down to ten - nine excluding the injured Devis. Butler had much to do, knocking him out of the picture, leaving only one suitable candidate. Collins marched up beside Ward and Butler, still standing at the center of the formation, “Captain, tend to your men, Sergeant, you’re with me.” He bluntly ordered.
“Hmm, duty calls.” Ward hummed, throwing her helmet on before sealing it to her suit, “you better draw up one badass unit patch, Captain, cause I’m not marching into Hell to face Demons, with a toddler’s scribble on my arm.” She mentioned leaving Butler’s side as she filed after Collins, before the two proceeded out of the hangar.
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Coated in blackened armored plates, reinforced steel, and bulletproof glass, it took effort to heave the passenger door of the MRAP open. A beast of a vehicle, with six monster-truck-esque wheels, it hovered several feet off the ground and could withstand anything short of a direct hit from a moderate artillery piece. Considering its current location, it was certainly worthwhile to have the security. Now dressed in an identical suit to Dr. Greyson, Collins starred up through the fire-retardant suit’s grey visor at the mild red sky of Hell. Thanks to SCP-666-SG, they learned how to make the portals larger, more stable, and most importantly more predictable. Now that they didn’t need to risk falling from the sky nor the random location, sending vehicles through was actually feasible.
Shutting the armored vehicle’s door behind him, Collins was once again confronted by the looming stature of the Hazbin Hotel. Somehow, despite all the goofy signs and exterior decor, the building was strangely intimidating, to him at least, as it somehow became more menacing since his last visit. Hearing a couple more doors clunk shut, a second later Collins was joined by Sgt. Ward, Dr. Wilcox, and a couple members of MTF Alpha-1, kitted out in sleek black equipment.
Collins gazed over at the second MRAP, parked right behind to one he, Wilcox, and Ward had just emerged from. All he knew was that Dr. Greyson and a handful more members of Alpha-1 were within, however they appeared to remain stationary. “Dr. Greyson isn’t going to join us?”
“Nope,” Wilcox confirmed, “not surprising really, since she has her goons to watch us.” He nodded his head back at the closest Alpha-1 member to him, who didn’t even seem to recognize it, or at least didn’t care to. Due to their direct association to the O-5’s, their reputation of being something akin to a boogeyman was well earned. They didn’t need to be feared though, so long as you were in the ‘good’ books. “Anyway, wanna go coral our asset out of there, Collins?”
Collins sighed, he was hoping that Carlie would be at least as trusting as she was the first time, and just go along with the whole ordeal. Otherwise, they’d have a fight on their hands, one that would hopefully remain bloodless. Either way he wouldn’t be able to keep Alpha-1 in line like he did with Mjolnir-3. “Come along Sergeant.” Collins beckoned, as he and Ward wandered down the driveway and to the front door of the hotel. His nerves began to get the better of him, instinctively balling his hands into fists, as every possible scenario, other than the one was hoping for, played out in his head. Finally, he raised his fist, tapping his knuckles against the stained glass encased within the door.
There was some degree of audible commotion from the other side, mostly muffled conversation and the occasional shout, gentle clacking footsteps gradually grew louder as they closed in from the other side. A mild clicking sounded from the door’s mechanism before it finally swung open. Initially it appeared as though nobody was on the other side, as Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel Dust were all visible further down the hall. Looking down, they could see that Nifty had opened the door for them, her head cocked to the side as she gazed up at them with curiosity in her eye.
“Oh, right, you probably don’t recognize us.” Collins stumbled, their new silver fire retardant suits being a far cry from the hazard suits they wore the first time.
Squinting her eye slightly, a toothy smile appeared on her face, “Of course I recognize you Colly!”
Clenching his teeth together, Collins felt himself reactively twitch at what the small Demon called him, which certainly wasn’t helped by the muffled chuckle emerging from beside him. Collins sharply turned his gaze toward the Sergeant, as Ward quickly hushed herself. First Bright and now her. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me that,” Collin grumbled, “now, could we please speak to Princess Charlie?”
Nifty waved for them to follow as she led them further into the hall, “Oh, don’t be such a sour puss, Colly.” She commented, much to his chagrin, “Of course you can talk to Charlie, even if she is a bit busy at the moment.”
Busy was an understatement, as the group got closer it became clear what the commotion was really about, and it wasn’t pretty.
“-We’re not even asking you to keep your legs shut, just keep your clients out of the hotel!” Vaggie yelled, in what was already an extended argument.
“Bitch, I’ve got my damn contract around my neck, I gotta keep bringing in cash for Val to keep him from crashing down on me! I’m already wasting too much time in this place.” Angel countered, keeping his arms crossed all the while appearing as though he’d rather be anywhere else.
Charlie was between the two, and the only one trying to keep her voice down. “What if we keep paying you the amount, he expects from you.” Charlie attempted to mediate, though she wasn’t making any breakthroughs.
“We’ve already done that, hun, and he’s still up to his bullshit.”
Angel growled, “For fuck sakes, selling myself is about more than just money, besides I still have contracts out the ass for shoots. So, unless you broads find-…” Angel cut himself off, rubbing his brow, “you know what, fuck this, I’ve had too many dicks in my ass to deal with you two chewing on it. Fuck you both.” Angel finished, striding away from the conversation, passing by Collins, Ward, and Nifty on his way to the front door. “Great, you wack-jobs are back. I’m not letting you poke and prod me, like some damn rat, today, so piss off.” He commented, walking straight past them as he held up a middle finger in their general direction.
Vaggie grumbled, “Maldito idiota,” she cursed, rubbing her temples, as she tried to force herself to wind down.
Charlie just sighed, remaining silent as she just stared at the floor with a heavy brow. Rubbing the back of her neck as she stared into space, trying to decide her way forward.
How on Earth am I supposed to work with this? Collins wondered, there was no good way to proceed from here, it seemed that all the bad scenarios his subconscious had thought up of all came true at once. Regardless he had no choice but to continue in, go figure that this would happen on the day they needed her most.
In the time Collins took to figure out how to reintroduce himself, Charlie had already long turned around and saw them waiting in the hall. “Oh, hello- Dr. Collins, I presume? It’s been a while.” She asked in a dull tone, none of the energy or excitement compared to their first meeting, though a slight smirk did creep onto her face.
“Oh um- yes, hello, it’s us again.” Collins stumbled, “I’m sorry, for whatever it is that just happened.” He apologized, trying to catch himself and get back on track.
“Oh, no, it’s alright.” Charlie excused, “It’s not the first-time things like this have happened.” She pulled her suit-jacket taught, straightening out any wrinkles in it, trying to maintain some sense of professionalism. “What can I do for you Doctor? I’m glad to see that you made it back safely, and it seems some things have changed.” She stated, quickly eyeing up and down the silvery suits he and Ward were dressed in.
“Yes well, since we now actually know more about Hell, we were able to create actual countermeasures. The rest of our entourage is waiting outside, however I brought the Sergeant back with me, since I heard you two hit it off relatively well.” Collins explained.
Charlie’s brow furrowed slightly, “I don’t mean to be rude, but we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.” She replied hesitantly.
“Hmm, my magic tricks failed to impress, princess?” Ward asked, stepping forward slightly, emphasizing that she was the Sergeant now.
Charlie’s eyes flipped open, “Oh, Two-Face.” She reacted, before quickly trying to recover from what she’d said, “No, no, it’s not that at all, it’s just that-“ her cheeks became flushed as she stuttered through her explanation.
“Calm down Princess, it’s fine.” Ward clarified, “After the last time they decided to promote the old man, meaning they needed someone to fill his place, and they chose me. I’m the Sergeant now.” Charlie seemed almost relieved, either from the fact that she didn’t need to deal with Butler again, or that she hadn’t offended her Human guests, or both, either way she relaxed a bit.
“As good as it is to catch up with one another, we’re going to have to skip the rest of the small talk. We’re here for a reason, and we need your help with it.” Collins explained.
“Of course, what do you need?” Charlie asked, still seeming to lack a certain degree of energy, though she smiled more comfortably.
“We need your help, to talk with Lucifer.” Collins stated, as all the energy seemed to immediately drain from Charlie’s face. “It was hoped that you could help bring us to him and convince him to enter into negotiations with us.”
Charlie took a step back, “that’s a tall order, doc. I’m not exactly on the best of terms with my dad, and I don’t really think this is a good idea.” She explained uncomfortably.
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, hun.” Vaggie called out, apparently having been listening the whole time, as she quickly rushed to her girlfriend’s side. “We met a week ago, when you tried to shoot up the place, Hell, we barely know you, so you can’t demand this kind of stuff from her.” She argued, keeping her tone surprisingly mellow yet assertive.
“I’m going to be perfectly honest with you.” Collins rubbed the back of his neck, as he struggled for a moment to continue. “I agree. I’ve been pushing my department to move faster with our research, and since I returned from our first encounter- well, let’s just say they’ve taken my words a bit too literally.” Collins sighed, before continuing, as if it was some strange sense of relief in his day. “I didn’t make this call, my superiors did, and I think they’re jumping-the-gun, but right now I’ve got some very high level people, who I can’t say ‘no’ to, waiting for me to deliver them an audience with the king of Hell himself. And the only person I know who can do that- is you.”
“And if I refuse?” Charlie asked.
“It won’t look good for me, that’s for sure-“ Collins mumbled, the last thing he needed was for the mission, that he was being observed on, to fail; he could say bye to his promotion, and likely expect a whole lot worse. Plus, he had no clue what Dr. Greyson’s potential back-up plan was, though the large amount of MTF Alpha-1 she brought with her certainly wasn’t a good sign. “Please, we just need you to introduce us to him, get him to be open to it, you don’t need to be involved in any of the negotiations.” Collins sighed, “I’m not beyond begging.”
Remaining silent for a while, Charlie and Vaggie shifted uneasily, as Collins did nothing to hide his disparity. Charlie finally spoke up, “A-alright, I’ll go with you Doctor.”
Vaggie turned to her with wide eyes, before quickly turning sharp and redirecting them at Collins, “Only if I go with her.” She demanded.
“Absolutely not,” Collins objected, “My orders were very specific, come in, get her, she brings us to Lucifer. I can’t risk bringing anyone else, this entire operation is highly classified, you’re not even supposed to know that it’s happening, let alone go along with it.” He explained, though he could visibly see Vaggie’s frown grow more intense, as she was clearly not on-board. “Sorry, but I’ve already told both of you too much. I can guarantee that nothing bad will happen. Now, please, we must go.” He urged.
Charlie turned toward Her girlfriend, firmly planting both hands on either of her shoulders, “Don’t worry, Vaggie, I’ll deal with my dad, and if the Doctor’s telling the truth, then I’ll hopefully have to hardly speak to him at all.” She reassured, giving her a gentile smile, which she mirrored, before letting go of her and wandering after Collins. She briefly turned and called, “Oh, and I doubt they’re stupid enough to try anything with the royal family of Hell!” She shouted, giving Vaggie a thumbs-up, as she continued to follow the Doctor.
Leading them to the door, Collins held it open for Charlie and Ward to pass though. He took one last gander around the Hotel lobby, curiously Alastor seemed to be absent, meaning he was going to have that conversation about the invitation, another time. Collins passed through after the other two, letting the door thud shut behind him. Now back outside, Collins led on as they began making their way down the cobblestone driveway, the pair of MRAPs parked at the far end of it. Making their way forward, Dr. Wilcox and the Alpha-1 members were still standing in front of the vehicles, waiting for Collins’ return.
Collins stepped to the side, holding a hand out toward Wilcox, “Princess Charlie, meet Dr. Wilcox, my boss.” Collins introduced, though there was nothing to distinguish Wilcox from Collins, thanks to the fire-retardant suits.
“Princess.” Wilcox stated simply, holding his hand out halfway between them.
“A pleasure to meet you, Doctor.” Charlie greeted, a broad smile on her face, as she took and shook his hand.
Wilcox let go of her hand, “please join Dr. Collins up front, I’m sure he’s already told you where we’re interested in going.” he turned toward the Alpha-1 soldiers gathered around, “mount-up gentlemen, we’re moving.” He ordered abruptly.
Charlie quickly ran beside him, before Wilcox had a chance to leave, “Wait, that’s not necessary, I have my own car, I can just lead you guys to-”
“Unfortunately, that’s not an option-” Wilcox interrupted, “for the sake of security for both you and foundation personnel, we ask that you join us in our vehicles. I’m sorry Princess, it’s Foundation protocol.” He stated coldly, before continuing off and clambering into the back of the vehicle, alongside the Alpha-1 members.
Charlie meekly turned around and continued back to the front of the vehicle, where Dr. Collins was holding the door open, waiting for her.
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Rumbling to a halt beneath them, the MRAP came to a halt, as Collins and Charlie gazed out its small, armored windows up a long winding driveway to a large manor-house situated on a small hill. Hell continued to be surprising. Rather than being anything imposing, threatening or authoritative, the building was a surprisingly ordinary stark white manor. Large Roman columns flanking the front doors, with a central complex branching out into several smaller wings that were clearly later additions to the home. It wasn’t the kind of building that was really befitting the King of Hell, rather it shared more in common with earthly governmental style buildings. Then again it seemed like the list of things they thought they knew about Hell, that were actually false, just seemed to get longer and longer. The only truly eerie elements to the estate were the leafless trees and grass so dark it was almost scorched black. Otherwise, it seemed like the kind of manor a world leader would live in.
Collins went to pop the door open, by the time he was halfway to the ground, he witnessed the speedy procession of three or four dozen soldiers rapidly deploy and race across the lawn. In silence, yet with perfectly synchronized, each soldier raced to their position, it would be impressive if it wasn’t horrifying. The members of MTF Alpha-1 formed a crescent line, creating a divide between the border of the estate and the city beyond. Assisting Charlie down from the large vehicle, Collins' heart seemed to skip a beat, what on earth was Dr. Greyson thinking? If just a single squad barging into the hotel almost caused a firefight, then they were sure to start a war by deploying a whole battalion on Lucifer’s lawn.
Collins quickly rushed to the back of the vehicle, Charlie tagging along behind him, discovering Dr. Wilcox and Sgt. Ward just as they had dismounted. “What the Hell is going on?” Collins yelled, catching both of their attention, “You said we were coming here for negotiations, not whatever this is!”
Wilcox held his hands out, “Calm down, Collins. Dr. Greyson merely wishes for no interruptions during our discussions.” Wilcox explained, keeping his tone so monotone he made it seem as though he did this every other night.
Collins took a step closer to Wilcox, keeping his voice semi-hushed, “I don’t like this, you read my report, you know how they reacted to my squad, imagine how they’ll react to this. Surely you see that this isn’t a good look for us.”
“It was Dr. Greyson’s decree, if everything goes accordingly then there will be no conflict.” Wilcox replied calmly, before stepping closer to Collins, himself as he lowered his tone to a whisper, “But you better stop acting like you’re the only one here being forced through this, I don’t like it either. I spent hours trying to find out more about her, even for me most of her info is blacked out. From what I’ve seen, even the Site Administrator treads lightly around her, so you better start revering her like some sort of God before we both end up in front of a firing squad.” He urged, quickly snapping out of the secrecy as he returned to professionalism, “Sergeant, you’ll be Princess Charlie’s escort, Alpha-1-12 and 1-13 will be joining us as security.” He ordered, quickly trotting ahead, as the rest were forced to file in behind him.
Reluctantly, Collins did as he was told, and with the Alpha-1 members tailing them, it was best that he kept his mouth shut. Regardless his gut couldn’t feel any worse, and it seemed Charlie shared his views. She was surprisingly quiet and shy, either from the fact that she had to deal with her father, or because of the rather cold-hearted nature of this entire operation in general. Either way it was a new side of her that he hadn’t seen before, and he wished it could go back to how it was before. Then again, he couldn’t shed the fact that he was partially responsible for this rapid escalation.
Though the Morningstar family Manor’s driveway was almost cartoonishly long, the group made good time in their ascent. Situated between the large roman column, they arrived before a ludicrously tall solid oak door, more than three meters in height. “If you would do the honors, Princess.” Wilcox requested. Charlie sheepishly made her way to the front of the group. Though she was more or less on par with the height of the research personnel and soldiers, she was absolutely dwarfed by the giant doors. Balling her right hand into a fist, she reached forward and gave the door a brisk but solid knock.
Collins crossed his arms behind his back as he, Wilcox, and the soldiers waited patiently. Charlie stood back from the door, a tad amount of nervousness on her face that she attempted to smooth over with a more neutral expression. They waited in an awkward near absolute silence, delicate yet commanding footsteps were heard approaching the door. Collins tensed slightly as they grew louder approaching the door. They stopped directly in front of it. Hollow clicking and mechanical noises enunciated the door unlocking. The double doors swung inwards, revealing a tall slender woman standing on the other side. Being roughly a head taller than Charlie, with large red horns that bends backwards emerging from her head. Long blond hair draped down, almost touching the ground, perched atop, she wore a crown made of a sort of blackened steel or iron. A pearl necklace complemented her more angular features, meanwhile the rest of her was covered by a purple dress which flowed all the way down to the ground.
Though she opened the door with a cooled expression, it shifted to one surprise, as she cocked her head slightly and tilted her brow, “Charlotte?” she asked.
Charlie seemed to quickly shed her nerves, as a smile jumped on her face, “Hi Mom!” she announced as she quickly leapt up and jumped in for a hug. Which the woman gladly accepted. They stood in the doorway and warmly hugged each other for a couple of seconds.
“Oh Charlie, I wasn’t aware you were coming.” Her mother said, as they finally released one another. “And who are all of these people?” She continued to hold Charlie by her shoulders as she turned her attention toward the soldiers and researchers.
“We are representatives of the SCP Foundation, your highness.” Wilcox introduced, “I’m Dr. Wilcox, this is Dr. Collins.” Collins gave a slight nod, recognizing the figure from the painting, before Wilcox continued, “We’re here to discuss our endeavors and to promote some mutual understanding with our organization. However, I have to admit that we were expecting someone else.”
“They’re researchers from Earth, they wanna speak to Dad.” Charlie elaborated.
“Oh, well old Luci has been a bit grumpy today, unfortunately.” She turned and meandered back through the doors, “Do come in, don’t want any of you to catch a cold.” She encouraged, waiving a hand to beckon them in. “Something new might interest him-“ She rambled on as she proceeded further and further away and into the manor, on the search for her husband.
Wilcox rushed in front of the group before anyone had a chance to follow through and enter. “Sergeant, Princess,” He stated, as the two spun toward him, “Everything that’s planned on being discussed is highly classified, Dr. Greyson isn’t taking any risks, she requests that you both remain outside.”
Ward gave a curt nod before taking a step back from the door, Charlie however didn’t back down. Pursing her lips, she squinted at Dr. Wilcox, “What if I promise to keep it a secret?” She asked innocently.
“I’m sorry princess, but that’s not how this works. It isn’t just about containing the spread of information, it’s just that some people aren’t allowed to know certain things, and entities rarely are.” He explained, as Charlie frowned and backed away. “Collins.” Wilcox ushered, as he came to his side. Turning in tandem, the two entered the manor, followed by the two Alpha-1 members, who closed the doors behind them.
Internally, the Morningstar manor was almost Victorian, its walls covered in all kinds of elaborately designed wallpaper, brimmed with marble edges to complement the pillars that were intermittently spaced along the corridor. The corridor itself expanded into more of a hall, almost double the width of the front door and just as tall, leaving plenty of space for the chandelier that took center stage on the ceiling. Shimmering, with gold plating and crystals, it hung peacefully, and looked ironically heavenly. Seemingly, the fallen angel’s sense of taste fell with him. Most captivating of all, at least to Collins as he found himself immediately drawn to them, were the vast number of portraits hanging on the walls, just like the hotel. Some were family portraits, dating back centuries; meanwhile the family members Barely seemed to age. Others were of moments or events, including some with other noble families, there was even one of the Goetias.
Collins pulled himself back beside Dr. Wilcox, as the patient hollow clacks of footsteps began to re-enter the hall. Charlie’s mother returned, now joined by another figure, one dressed in a bright, almost glowing, white suit with red accents, a tall tophat with a snake coiled around it, and carrying a cane that he tentatively tapped against the floor as he walked. From what little they could see of the man’s face, he looked remarkably similar to Charlie, the same pale white skin and rosy cheeks, and the same smile, yet his was more malicious in some way. Something Collins particularly locked in on was just how short the figure was. The brim of the tophat he wore came a bit more than head short of his wife. Judging from the portrait he saw in the hotel, Collins knew Lucifer was shorter than his wife, but now he looked shorter than Charlie, which wasn’t the case in the painting. Finally, Collins noticed the Icing-on-the-cake, noticing his fine black leather dress shoes, with tall square, aftermarket, two inch heels attached to them.
Collins was bursting at the seams, struggling to keep himself from outright bursting into laughter, so much so he tried to cover his mouth through his helmet. However, he couldn’t help himself, as a few slight snorts still managed to escape.
Wilcox turned towards him, “What?” He asked hushed, equal parts confusion and are-you-trying-to-get-us-killed-?
“I-I just…” Collins struggled to speak, “I didn’t expect him to be this short.”
Lucifer’s eyes darted across the room, glowing a violent red as he intensely stared toward Collins. “What did you say?” He bellowed as he gradually started making his way down the hall toward the researchers. Meanwhile his wife rolled her eyes in the background, as if this was a regular occurrence, before taking her leave.
Snapping to attention, the smile instantly faded from Collins’ face, despite the fact he kept as white as possible, Lucifer still heard him. “I-I’m sorry, your highness, I didn’t mean any-“ Collins, to no avail, attempted to salvage the situation.
“Oh really-“ Lucifer reacted, “Then by all means why don’t you repeat what you said? I won’t bite.” The sharp grin on his face suggested anything but, as he made his way ever closer towards them. Their black-clad Alpha-1 escorts stepped forward, one holding his hand out as the other held his rifle in the Demon-King’s direction. Lucifer’s eyes ignited slightly brighter, just like that the pair of guards collapsed, almost as if they had fainted. His eyes returned to normal and remained locked on to Collins, as there was nothing, they could do to stop him. Wilcox stepped away and toward the wall, abandoning Collins to his fate. With his back to the door, Lucifer stood barely a foot away, as he leaned in close to Collins’ face, his helmet’s visor being the only thing separating them. “What did you call me?”
Collins could see the writing on the wall and could feel the bullets of sweat pouring down his face within the helmet, as he ever wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Restating what he said was a death sentence, then again so may be attempting to apologize again, and staying silent likely also was. Collins shut his eyes; it seemed it was just an inevitability now. “I, um- v-vertically disadvantaged?” He rephrased, some desperate attempt at blurring the lines between all of his options.
Lucifer’s face scrunched up, his smile dipping, as he leaned back, visibly trying to analyze what Collins just said. “Vertically- huh.” A smile returned to his face, the same one as before, his eyes however were round and almost excited. “Vertically Disadvantaged-“ he let out a sharp cackle, “I absolutely love that!” He backed away from Collins, letting him breath the greatest sight of relief any man could. “Now that’s something new, I'm so tired of the whole 'oh your majesty this, oh your majesty that, oh your majesty please forgive me I meant no blah blah blegh’.” He rambled, wandering away a few paces as he left room for the researchers to breathe. “I wasn’t really going to kill you pathetic fools, you know, of course I could if you care to insult me more. I just wanted to shake you boys up, get you to feel the adrenaline, loosen up-“
Dr. Wilcox returned to Collins’ side, who seemed almost frozen in place, not even acknowledging the change in position. “Um, your majesty-“ Wilcox called.
“Ugh, weren’t you listening?” Lucifer groaned, “Just call me Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar, once a soldier of Heaven, now King of Hell.” He dramatically introduced. “And who might you pathetic Humans be?”
“I’m Dr. Wilcox, this is Dr. Collins-“ Wilcox gestured over to Collins, who still hadn’t moved, “your maj-“ he cut himself off, “right. We’re envoys from the SCP Foundation, and we’re hoping to arrange some agreements, pertaining to our research in Hell.”
“Ah, I see-“ Lucifer darted back toward the researchers, appearing between them as he wrapped an arm around each of their necks, “come along then, friends. Let’s have a little chit-chat.” He stated, smiling and giggly all the while, escorting Dr. Collins and Dr. Wilcox to an adjacent room.
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With the door closing shut on their faces, they could hear the clicking of the latch as it locked, leaving Sgt. Ward and Princess Charlie alone outside. “I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to leave them alone with my dad.” Charlie mentioned, a concerned look on her face as she gazed up at the tall frame of the door.
Meanwhile, Ward casually meandered off to the side, finding a spot between the wall of the manor and one of the columns holding the awning in place over the door. “Yea well, they told us to stay here, and that’s an order I’m not disobeying.” She stated, leaning against the wall as she gradually slid down into a seated position on the floor. “Every minute they don’t send me to fight monsters is a minute I’ll take.”
“But what if something happens to them?” Charlie argued, turning toward Ward.
“Nothing will.” She reassured, “The eggheads spend hours precisely planning every operation, if they thought something might happen then they wouldn’t go in. They’d send a small army of us instead.”
Charlie bit her lip, against gazing up at the door, before finally relenting. She wandered off to the side, taking a similar position to Ward, just on the other side of the porch. “Hope nothing goes wrong then.”
“Oh, no, they go wrong all the time.” Ward chuckled.
Charlie sat tensely against the wall. “I figured,” she replied, “I just don’t want the first Humans I meet to end up dead, especially not the hands of my own father.” She explains, gazing up and off at the cityscape in the far distance.
“Well, we Humans sure have a tenacity for dying, as I'm sure you’re aware by the- what is it? Billions of people down here.” Ward ripped the seal off of her helmet before lifting the whole thing off, exposing her head and the cowl of her under suit overtop it, alongside the scarred skin and eyepatch covering the right side of her face. “God, first day wearing this stuff and I already hate it. Beats the CBRN stuff, I suppose. Still rather just be in plain BDUs.” She complained, reaching around her equipment for a while before she retrieved a canteen.
Charlie turned toward her, giving the soldier a slight smile, “No eye today, two-face?” She asked, pointing at her own right eye for emphasis.
Ward coughed as she choked on her water, “What? Oh, no, no magic tricks today, Princess, not with Alpha-1 around. Damn spooks report everything, I can trust my boys, but not the red right hand.”
Charlie perked up slightly, “Red right hand? What does that mean?”
“More nicknames, princess, that’s all.”
“Right, but, like, what do they do, what’s their role in your organization?”
“Hell if I know, they’ve had the shit classified out of ‘em”
“I’m already starting to hate that word.” Charlie groaned, “Second time I’ve gotten to know you guys, and the response to almost every question I’ve asked is ‘classified’.”
“Get used to it.” Ward stated bluntly. Noting Charlie’s continued dissatisfaction, the Sergeant took pity, and relented a little more; “The best I can do is that they’re the best and most loyal soldiers the Foundation has, and they report straight to the top of the chain of command. Hence why I’m not making any infractions around them, even light ones.”
“So, all your different groups get nicknames too?” Charlie pondered, “So their group is called Red Right Hand, what’s your guys’?”
“We’re newly formed, Captain just dubbed us this morning. He saw the silvery suits and went for the Knights in Shining Armor.”
“Oooh, I like that. It makes you guys sound so noble and protective.” She complimented, though Ward merely shrugged, they had to wait and see what kind of unit MTF Xi-1 would prove to be. “Huhn, I just realized that I got all of you guys' little nicknames except from your Sergeant,” Charlie contemplated, “your old Sergeant I mean. Everyone just called him by his title.” She clarified, referring to Butler.
Ward chuckled, “There’s kinda a funny story to that actually.” Charlie peeked her head up as she leaned over to listen. “It goes back to when our unit was first formed, back then it didn’t have most of the guys we have in it now. Anyway, as soon as we heard that the foundation allows for callsigns, we all immediately began drawing up ideas for what we wanted to be called. Except for the old man. As you know we’re supposed to use numbers to identify one another, however we got tired of calling him ‘dash one’ so we started calling him ‘Sarge’ but we started getting bored of that too. So I went in and asked him one day, ‘Sarge, how come you never chose a callsign?’ And he just told me that he had no idea of what to go by. So I explained the squad's grievances with it, and urged him to think about it. The next day we were suiting up for a mission, and I mentioned in passing, ‘hey Sarge, you got anything you wanna go by yet?’ He pays me almost no mind and just says ‘you just said it.’ We all look at each other like we missed something, so I ask him to clarify. I shit you not he looks me dead in the eye and just goes, ‘Sarge’.”
“You gotta be kidding me.” Charlie reacted, she frowned, clearly annoyed at the lack of any real revelation, she was, however, smiling, genuinely and gently. “You said he was promoted to Captain, right? So, is he now going to change it to ‘Cap’?” She asked.
“Nah, he’s a stubborn old man, he probably won't even bother changing it. Besides, to me and the boy he’ll always just be Sarge, so we’ll probably just keep calling him that.” Ward explained, as she smiled back at the princess.
“Why does the Foundation think it’s so bad that I know your names? I mean what harm can it do?” Charlie asked with a childlike innocence.
“I don’t know, general special forces bull. They don’t want us to be identifiable among the civilian populace. Honestly, I think it’s mostly because they don’t want us to form attachments, as if that even works.”
“What’s so wrong with forming attachments? Isn’t that part of the whole, brothers-in-arms kind of thing?”
“Not to each other, to you Princess, to entities, I don’t know, to the enemy, I guess.” Ward bluntly explained.
Charlie seemed to almost instantly recess into a shyer version of herself after hearing that last piece. “The enemy.” She murmured quietly to herself, “But we’re not enemies, are we? Two-face?” She asked nervously. Unable to think of an appropriate response, Ward just stared forward, remaining silent. Charlie took up the same posture, looking away from the soldier, as their relationship seemed to never have meant to be. Silently, the two remained like that for a minute.
“Ward.” The sergeant called out. Charlie looked over, only to see the soldier rise from her seated position, March the few paces over to her side of the terrace and sit back down beside the Princess. “My real name is Ward.” She restated.
“Ward,” Charlie repeated, a smile creeping back, larger than before, “I like that. Ward, Ward, Ward.”
“Alright, don’t flaunt it too much. You gotta keep this to yourself, if my superiors get word of this, they’ll have my head.”
“Don’t worry, it’s safe with me…” Charlie’s eyes shifted, as if she wasn’t sure if she should say the next part aloud. “-and maybe Vaggie.”
Ward rolled her eye, “Just remember that I’m trusting you with this, Charlie.” She was already beginning to regret her decision. Yet it seemed to cheer the Princess up either way. “How are things down here?”
“So interested in me all-of-sudden?”
“Well, you’re the one that’s been asking questions this whole time, about time it became my turn. So, what’s it like to live in Hell?” She restated.
Charlie remained silent for a while, gazing out to the cityscape in the distance, enjoying the peace of the moment. “I don’t know,” she sighed, “I don’t really have anything to compare it to, I guess, but it all feels so hopeless all the time.” She expressed, a certain glumness finding its way into her tone, “It just seems like everyone down here has given up. Except for me and the other hell born, but we’re all born into whatever role we fulfill. It all just feels so stiff.” She explained, “I guess it’s all just a really roundabout way of saying that I don’t really like it anymore-“
“Shit,” Ward cursed, as Charlie looked toward her, “Sorry, princess.” She threw on her helmet and sealed her suit in the blink of an eye, before jumping off the ground as if it was on fire. Clicking her heels together, she stood at attention parallel to the door.
Just moments later, another figure came up the terrace, dressed in the same silver suit as Doctors Collins and Wilcox, escorted by another two-man team of Alpha-1. Dr. Greyson strode forward towards Ward, and the door. “Keeping the princess company Sergeant?” She asked coolly.
“Yes Ma’am.” Ward replied professionally, as her inner soldier manifested once again.
“No report from Dr. Wilcox or Collins?” She asked.
“No Ma’am.”
“I see, the door please, Sergeant.” Greyson requested.
“Of course, Ma’am.” Ward replied as she went to pull the door open.
Meanwhile, Dr. Greyson looked over to see Charlie rising to her feet, “Ah, you must be Lucifer’s daughter, Charlotte, was it?” She asked, taking one large stride over to her.
“I, um, prefer Charlie, Ma’am.” She corrected uneasily, as the opaque visor of the woman’s helmet stared at her.
“Of course,” Greyson patted Charlie on the shoulder, “don’t mind me, I just need to have a few words with your old man.” She explained in a manner that made her seem like she had a thousand years of experience over her. “After all, my associates have fulfilled their purpose.” Without another word she and her escort proceeded through the doors and into the manor, as Ward let the door fall shut behind them.
Charlie was left aghast, “Who was that?”
“I have absolutely no idea.” Ward replied.
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Dr. Greyson found herself in the same wallpapered corridor that Collins and Wilcox had earlier. Evident by the two Alpha-1 soldiers lying on the ground, groaning in pain, mumbling incoherently. “Get them out of here and to the medic by the convoy.” The soldiers following her wordlessly complied, as they began to gather the two fallen men’s equipment and prepare to take them away.
Coming from a little down the hall, from a room adjacent to the hall, was the quiet murmur of conversation. Signaling for one of the soldiers to follow her, Greyson began moving toward the room where the noise emerged from. Peering in through the doorway, she was greeted by a large sitting room, a lit fireplace flanked on either side by a pair of couches. In one resided both Collins and Wilcox, seated beside one another, in the other was Lucifer, happily smiling as their conversation chugged along. Greyson turned toward the soldiers following her, “No one comes in, exception to his wife, otherwise I don’t want to be disturbed.” The soldier remained silent and simply nodded. Taking one final stride forward, Dr. Greyson entered the room. “Dr. Collins, Dr. Wilcox,” she announced, as all heads turned towards her, particularly Lucifer’s, who’s smile wavered slightly, as their conversation was interrupted. “Good to see that neither of you have gotten yourselves killed. You’re both to wait outside for further orders, I’ll take it from here.”
Wilcox stood instinctively, “Yes, Doctor,” began to walk out.
Collins, however, remained seated, “B-but we Barely got past the introductory material, we haven’t even-“
“Collins!” Wilcox called, nodding his head to the side, encouraging him to follow. Hanging his head slightly, Collins rose from the couch, and followed after Wilcox, as the two passed by Dr. Greyson and left the room. Moments later the swoosh of the front door opening, and the thud of it closing, were heard.
“Now might I ask, who interrupted my, surprisingly pleasant, conversation with those two gentlemen?” Lucifer asked, staring down at the mysterious figure before him.
“Calm down Luci,” Dr. Greyson urged, as confidently walked forward into the area of the two couches, “Collins and Wilcox were only here to test the waters, besides I feel they’ll be my two most trustworthy assets down here.” Greyson gazed up at a large painting hanging above the mantle, a family portrait of the Morningstars, dated to 1830. Featuring a slightly younger Charlie in front, with Lilith and Lucifer flanking her on either side.
“You better start talking then, because my patience is getting thin.” Lucifer threatened, his smile becoming more pointed as his eyes narrowed in a predatory fashion.
“Cease your threats, Luci, you couldn’t harm me when we first met, and we both know that you can’t now either.” Greyson asserted, completely unbothered.
“The list of Humans I’ve met is not terribly long, but there’s a fair number of names on there. Who are you?” Lucifer encouraged, his expression mixing strangely with curiosity as he maintained some of his anger.
“To the few that are allowed to know that I exist, I’m Dr. Evelyn Greyson,” She tore the seal off of her mask, “To the Council, I’m simply Dash One, you however-“ she lifted the suit’s helmet off of her head, revealing the face of an older middle eastern woman with jet black hair, her face was almost perfectly symmetrical, and without a flaw on it, “-may call me Eve. Hello Luci, it’s been a while.”
For the first time Lucifer’s smile disappeared, as he did little but stare at Eve, his talkative side disappeared causing him to turn to a silent statue. “W-what, I thought… after all this time I thought you’d be-“
“Dead? Like Adam?” Eve asked, placing her helmet down on one of the couches, before stepping closer to Lucifer. “No, I abandoned that ship before I sank with it, and thanks to it humanity survives, and now we can ensure it stays that way.”
“All of this is-“ he paused briefly, “why come down here though?” Lucifer asked, still in shock, however he soon recovers from it, his eyes becoming sharp. “If this is all for some sort of revenge, then I hope you brought someone more capable than your escorts.”
“Always so pessimistic, Luci.” Eve commented, “you were jealous that you weren’t God’s favorite anymore, so you tricked me into forcing all of humanity out of paradise.” Eve explained, unlike Lucifer, there was no hostility in her tone or expression, just a strange neutral contemplation. “I suppose I should really thank you for that, shouldn’t I?” She asked, a slight smirk coming to her face. “Look at how far humanity has progressed, and how the foundation has protected them all these years. If it wasn’t for the apple, humanity would be a herd of animals sitting in a penn. The Foundation has become the new guardian, you’ve allowed us to truly show that we can handle ourselves.” The hostility slowly faded from Lucifer’s face, as his eyes grew wider again. “So, no, Luci, I’m not here for revenge.”
“Hmm, well, about the whole apple thing-“ Lucifer mentioned awkwardly.
“What about it?” Eve interrupted, “Your personal little strike at God, that I just happened to be the target of. What was it? Nothing personal?” Eve commented, raising a brow at Lucifer. “There’s nothing you could do or say to rectify why you did. Then again, I’m not sure you’d want to. Besides, you didn’t think I’d hold a grudge for six thousand years, did you?”
“Right, right…” Lucifer murmured, some semblance of his previous smile and attitude returning, as he turned toward one of the couches, Eve however remained standing opposite to him. “So, what, this Foundation has been your pet-project for the last six thousand years? Not what I’d expect from you, from what I’ve seen they’ve done worse than some of us down here.”
Eve curled her lip slightly, “Something like that.” She hummed, “I started it at least; however I’m not going to discuss the SCP Foundation’s origins, it’s classified, even for you.” Lucifer raised a finger, opening his mouth, as he was about to object, though Eve answered the question before he could even ask it. “It doesn’t matter how powerful you are or what you think you know about the Foundation, it’s classified, end of story.” Lucifer lowered his finger and sat back in his chair. Eve sighed, “Though I will admit that the Foundation of today isn’t quite along the lines I’d envisioned, but so long as our actions protect Humanity it’s worthwhile.”
“So, why are you down here?” Lucifer asked, indulging in his own self-consciousness, “Why come talk to me?”
“Simple, to cut off the head of the snake.” Eve stated bluntly, meandering over to the fireplace, staring down at it as she continued. “Humanity has a vested interest in Hell, and some of your subjects have grown a bit too bold for our liking. The Foundation wants to intervene directly, and there’s no better way to do that than starting at the top. Simply put, we want to move operations down here.” Eve explained.
Lucifer laughed, “My, my, darling, cutting in on the overlord business, that’s no easy task. But, by all means, if you wish to make enemies with every power down here, then go ahead.”
“I don’t think you quite understand,” Eve stated, turning toward Lucifer as she became more direct, “I’m sure you don’t just let all of your overlords run amuck by themselves. After all, manors like this don’t build themselves, and I don’t see you laying any bricks.”
Lucifer hummed, raising a finger to his chin, as his eyes narrowed somewhat. “There is a council, yes, one for overlords, one for royalty. Horribly boring really, just a bunch of petty squabbling, and them paying tribute- that’s my favorite part.”
Eve smiled, one devilishly similar to Lucifer’s, “simply put, we want in. We’re not one of your overlords, Luci, we’re a foreign political entity, and if your overlords are smart, they’ll recognize that. Hence, like any neighboring power would, we want to negotiate. Representatives in both councils, an embassy in the center of the city and control over the surrounding territory, and a base of operations.”
Lucifer raised a brow, his smile reminiscing into a simple smirk. “But why though? Why would I offer any of these concessions?”
“We’re the single most powerful entity on Earth, Luci, just name it.” Eve stated simply, as she began to wander in a circle around the couch Lucifer sat in, elaborating all the while. “A centralized military entity, far more competent than anything your overlords could offer, would be quite something to have at your beckon call. Otherwise, we offer the most advanced research Humanity is capable of. Or if it’s really money you’re after, I can assure you that the Foundation can pay whatever tithe you have in place.” She wagered, offering a variety that he may find interesting.
Lucifer hummed smoothly once again, rising in tone before simmering back out again. “Some new competition might re-invigorate the current overlords. Many of them have been in power so long that they’ve become too comfortable, and that’s bad for business and my position. Not that they’d succeed, but some have tried.” Lucifer mentioned, “I can give pointers, maybe a concession here and there, but ultimately it is up to your people to hold onto their territory down here. The list of challengers won’t be short.”
“The Foundation has tackled things worse than Hell.” Eve mentioned strongly, crossing her arms.
Lucifer giggled like a child, yet seemingly every undertone of it was sinister in some way, “Lilith said this would be interesting, and she certainly was right. I look forward to what your little organization can do, Eve.”
Eve backed away, her mission successful, she collected her helmet and placed it back over her head, sealing the suit as her appearance became hidden. “I believe it goes without saying that this conversation never happened, you negotiated with Dr. Greyson, and Eve remains a fairytale.” She stated, beginning to move back toward the corridor.
“And if I do tell everyone?” Lucifer asked mischievously.
Eve stopped halfway, “You haven’t changed one bit, have you?” She turned toward him, “Then you’ll just have to deal with the full might of the foundation. Besides, everyone knows you like being tricky, Luci, I doubt even the denizens of Hell would believe you.” She stated, turning back as she resumed her jaunt. “Till next time, Lucifer.”
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It had been almost a half hour since Collins and Wilcox had rejoined Ward and Charlie outside, and curiosity was strong in the air. Though they quickly brushed aside Charlie’s concerns and questions with the usual ‘classified’ excuse, the researchers themselves had their curiosities. Dr. Greyson was still largely unknown, and the fact that she wanted to negotiate with Lucifer personally, could only mean that the O-5s were very interested in Hell indeed. Regardless, they had been given their orders, and they weren’t in a position to disobey them.
Not that Collins let that stop him, as he’d begun holding the side of his head close to the door, attempting to listen in on anything being said.
“You’re embarrassing yourself, Collins.” Dr. Wilcox commented, “The room we were in isn’t even adjacent to the door, unless they’re yelling at each other, you’ll hear nothing.”
“Let me guess, my dad is sitting in his usual favorite spot beside the fireplace in the living room?” Charlie asked.
“He was when we left.” Wilcox confirmed, “Which is why it’s ridiculous that you’re doing this, Collins.”
“Sshhh,” Collins shushed, pressing his head closer to the door, “I hear something.” He mentioned, before a clicking was heard from the door’s mechanism. He quickly attempted to move out of the way, however he was too late, as the door swung open and clocked him in the side of the face, creating an audible thunk, as he attempted to jump to the side.
“What was that?” Greyson asked, barely having stepped outside.
“Nothing, Doctor. Collins just found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Wilcox explained, as Collins stood beside him rubbing the side of his cheek through his mask.
“Would’ve helped if she didn’t swing the door open like a maniac.” Collins mumbled.
“H-how did the talk with my dad go?” Charlie asked sheepishly, clearly uncomfortable about either asking Dr. Greyson or the answer she would receive.
“Oh it went fine, Charlotte, quite an experience speaking to the king of Hell.” She mentioned, marching forward as she passed by everyone and stood at the edge of the port, in front of the researchers. “Gentlemen, I’ve got new orders for you both. Dr. Collins you’re to report to Site-727.”
Collins took his hand off his head, “I-I’m sorry but I’ve never heard of that Site before?”
“I don’t believe it exists,” Wilcox speculated, “Sorry, Doctor, are you sure you didn’t mean somewhere else?”
“No, I meant what I said.” She reaffirmed, “Dr. Collins will report to Site-727, which is where you come in-“ she turned her full attention to Dr. Wilcox, “Administrator Wilcox, we’re building Site-727 down here. We need a plot of land in an isolated location, additionally we’re going to set up a political embassy to streamline negotiations with all of the local rulers. We should also consider the construction of an Area, however that can wait till after the other two are established.” Without another word, Dr. Greyson turned and continued down the driveway, back toward the convoy. “Good luck boys, I’m counting on both of you.”
Collins and Wilcox stood motionless, unable to move as if they had just been witness to something stunning. “W-what just happened?” Collins asked, breaking the silence.
“I don’t know.” Wilcox said slowly, reaching to scratch at the back of his neck, “I believe I just got promoted, and we’re moving operations down here.”
“Well, look at that princess, we’re gonna be neighbors.” Ward remarked half-jokingly, as Charlie smiled back at her.
“Doesn’t it seem like we’re moving a bit fast though?” Collins questioned, “We’ve barely gotten a hold on the Grimoire, and we’re already setting up shop?”
Wilcox chuckled, “And here I thought you’d be excited.”
“I am happy, at least that we’re not moving at a snail's pace anymore. Doing research on site will also be a massive benefit. It just seems like there’s still so much to iron out before we take a drastic step like this.” Collins explained more thoroughly.
Wilcox crossed his arms, processing what Collins said for a moment. “Whatever your concerns are, you have to admit, this is gonna be one helluva breakthrough.”
Notes:
So how was it?
I know the wait for this one was painful, but I hope it was worth it.
If you indeed care about a concrete description of Dr. Collins, or wanna keep it like how it is now, then please vote so I can give you guys what you want.
I thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and I’ll gladly take any feedback you have to give.
Chapter 12: Lab Rats
Summary:
Months after the containment breach, the SCP Foundation has officially started moving its operations to within SCP-666. Dr. Collins finds himself in the midst of a chaotic day where he evolves his relationship with every party that the Foundation has a vested interest in.
Notes:
Here it is, the long wait is over at last.
This chapter was something else to write, with just the sheer amount of stuff that got in the way of me writing it. Not to mention that I accidentally made it the new longest chapter in the entire story.
I know I said I would finish the chapter before christmas, however it is now 4am on the 26th, so instead this can be my late Christmas present to you all. I hope everyone had a nice holiday regardless of what weather or not you celebrate.
I do want to gush a bit about the story overall though, since this will likely be the last chapter I post before the new year.
I started posting this story in July of 2022, and the journey that this has been over the last six months has been absolutely incredible. I’ve always enjoyed writing but I’ve always been very self conscious about posting it, which kept me from doing so. So when I finally took the leap and started posting this story I thought it would be something obscure that perhaps a dozen people would read and I would abandon after just a few chapters. But the massive amount of support I received from day 1 has been just incredible. I can’t express enough how much of an impact reading all of you guys’s comments has had on me. To see people excited about my story telling and genuinely enjoying my writing started off as so surreal, only to become one of the highlights of my day whenever I read comments and dedicated some time to writing. Then you guys pushed this story to 10,000 hits, which was just something else. The fact that so many people would read something I wrote was just mind boggling, and really it still is. And now we’re here, six months later, at the end of 2022 and I honestly couldn’t be happier. Writing this silly Hazbin, Helluva, and SCP crossover has legitimately become one of my favorite things to have happened this year.
For that I thank you all. For every comment, every kuddo, and just for reading in general. Thank you.
It’s been a fantastic six months, and I can’t wait to continue this journey with you all in 2023.There were several times I considered shortening this chapter due to just how long it was becoming. However this chapter has a lot of things in it that people have been asking for, so I decided to just push on and finish it in full even if it is a bit late. Because I feel you all deserve it.
Anyway, this has gone on long enough.
I wish each and every one of you a happy new year, and without further ado let’s begin.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 12: Lab Rats
There was a strange peace over Collins as he wandered into the interrogation room. Unlike the rooms they used to interview entities, this was one of the old-timey ones kept for D-class containment and debriefing. Rather than meter-thick, solid concrete walls, the room was just simple plaster, still having the old two-way mirror on one side. Overall it was outdated, a relic from when Site-59 was first constructed, renovations were just not worthwhile. It’s not like D-classes had any way of getting out. Even if they did, it was still a long sprint to the exits, covered by checkpoints and security.
It was relieving, for once his guts didn’t feel like they wanted to churn themselves apart. These kinds of interviews always made Dr. Collins uncomfortable, something about their closely monitored and inherently manipulative nature. Then again, it wasn’t the rooms that were responsible for that. Outside of simple question and answer, manipulation was almost always what these rooms were used for, but fortunately this was not one of those times. And, perhaps for the first time, the room was being used for something far less official.
Keeping his hands in the pockets of his lab-coat, Collins let the door fall shut behind him. He was presented with the usual scene, central table and two steel chairs. Rather than meeting with any entity or Demon, in the far chair sat an older Hispanic woman, dressed in a D-class jumpsuit, her hands clenched together on the table as she waited patiently. “Hello Dr. Garcia.” Collins mentioned, walking up and taking the remaining chair. “You’ve certainly seen better days.” He commented, as the woman’s eyes appeared dull, her hair uncared for, and her expression sour.
Gracia looked up at him as he wandered over, her eyes narrowing into something fierce as she stared Collins down. “I’m surprised they didn’t send you in sooner.” She mentioned as Collins sat down before her, “Still basking in the glory of taking my position?”
The dichotomy between the two figures couldn’t be any clearer. Garcia sat forward in a hunched posture, keeping her hands close together. Meanwhile Collins leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk coming to his face, though it quickly disappeared. “They have me doing more important work than talking to traitors. Besides you’ve been in Foundation captivity for almost three months, you really think they have anything left to ask?” Collins asked rhetorically, as Garcia gave no response. “No, the Foundation has all the answers it wants. I requested this interview for my own sake.” He explained.
“Ah, so instead you’ve come to boast about your greatness in defeating me. How you bravely tore apart my office for clues.” Garcia mocked, pushing herself away from the table, as she leaned back in her chair. “Save me the blabber and just take my back to my cell already.”
“You really think I would organize all of this just for that?” Collins asked, raising his brow, wondering if that was Garcia’s true assessment of him or if she was just being crude. “I’ve come for quite the opposite really. The foundation may be satisfied, but I’m not, I wanted to hear it all from the snake’s mouth. Catch the real motivations behind what you did.”
Garcia scoffed, “If you want the ‘real reason’ go read the interrogation reports and leave me be.”
“I already have,” Collins countered, “and as much as I’m aware of your religious inclination, I severely doubt that you’d endanger your position for them. You’re not that zealous.” He reasoned. The interrogation reports were a hodgepodge of excuses for her actions, and since the foundation cleared any involvement with other GOIs, they didn’t care anymore. “It doesn’t go to explain why you’d assign me to SCP-666 only to hinder me.”
“For being so bright you certainly need a lot to be explained to you.” She mentioned, a worthless jab that failed to hit, as Collins Barely reacted. “It’s simple, I kept my enemies close. You were the most likely person to figure out SCP-666, so I set you loose on it, and just had to make sure to limit you at every step till the O-5s realized you were useless and took you off the project. Once they'd made up their minds, you’d never be reassigned to it, taking you out of the picture permanently.” Garcia explained. “Go figure I didn’t count on you breaking protocol and the O-5s being ok with it.”
“So what? Afterward you were just grasping at straws?” Collins asked.
“Pretty much, the containment breach was my last Hail Mary.” She added, “of course you had to survive that one too.” She mumbled bitterly.
“How could you though?” Collins was taken aback, sitting straighter in his chair, his face becoming stern. “You sacrificed a hundred and twelve foundation personnel, of which only a fraction survived, just to get at me? It doesn’t make any sense!”
“Do you know who Dr. Dan is?” Garcia asked, leaning back forward as she appeared more focused.
Collins frowned heavily, “Of course I do, he’s the monster who unleashed 096 on the civilian populace just to prove a point.”
“For as cold-blooded as Dr. Dan is, he had a point.”
Collins rose from his seat suddenly, sending it screeching backward, “Save me your ‘greater good’ bullshit!”
Garcia rose from her seat, firmly keeping her hands planted on the table, “Listen to me Collins, you’re playing with fire!” She shouted, grabbing his attention, “My last resort was trapping you down there and unleashing the entities on Site-59 to prove to the Foundation that we shouldn’t get involved with Hell!”
“What, now you’re conspiring with Demons to kill me? Surely even you can see the hypocrisy in that.”
“Oh stop being so dramatic! I didn’t tell them to cause the breach, I just knew they would.” Garcia answered, calming down slightly as she took her seat. Though he was tempted to just storm out of the room and call an end to it, Collins was curious enough to hear her out, for now. “I noticed a slight tick on the readers for Site-59’s reality anchor, it appeared the day after you captured the dash-One instances. More notably, it kept consistently appearing every single day, after that it was just timing.”
“Let me guess, the prince.” Collins concluded, “And you want me to believe that nobody else noticed this tick?”
“The readers on the reality anchors are constantly going wild due to everything contained in the site, nobody bothers checking them anymore unless they’re indicating something catastrophic.” She explained, before breaking eye contact with Collins as some semblance of shame crept over her face. “If you weren’t so persistent in your work, then it would never have come to this.”
Collins’ eyes sharpened as he frowned heavily, “Don’t you dare blame this one me!” He stated, slamming his hands down on the table as he leaned forward on it, his tone rising as he became more intense. “I was doing my duty to the Foundation and Humanity, with sacrifice only where necessary, not the pointless waste of life you caused.”
“It was not worthless!” Garcia shouted back, “Just like Dr. Dan, I am trying to make the Foundation see their faults, sacrificing hundreds now, to save millions in the future.” She explained, quitting her tone somewhat. “You are a promising researcher, Collins, I'm sorry to have dragged you into this. But after all your breakthroughs the Foundation stopped listening to me, they wanted Hell, and you were delivering it to them on a silver platter. Nobody can control Hell, nobody. I had to keep it that way, if trapping you down there and sacrificing a hundred Foundation personnel was the key to that, then so be it.”
Collins stared at her with hollow eyes, perhaps she was more of a zealot than he’d thought. Part of him still felt remorseful, he’d spent years studying under her only for it all to change in a matter of weeks. None of that however, detracted from the fact of the matter. “You’re a monster, Dr. Garcia, just like Dr. Dan. If you truly believe everything you just said, then you won’t mind joining him.” Collins pulled his back straight and crossed his arms, Garcia staring up at him. “Last I checked he still hasn’t found a way to kill 096, and unfortunately for you the Foundation isn’t interested in nuking Hell.” Taking a moment of contemplation, Collins paused, carefully considering every word he was about to say. “They told me it was my choice whether or not I told you this, and after everything I just heard, you deserve worse. The Foundation has no use for you anymore, your termination has been scheduled for tomorrow.”
Garcia hardly seemed to flinch, yet deep within the pupils of her eyes it was clear that the last embers of resilience were finally extinguished. “It’s about time really.” She sighed calmly.
That small residue of guilt, that Collins felt earlier, seemed to become dominant over part of his mind. “I’m sorry, Any last words?” He asked in as gentile a tone as he could.
Finally she reestablished eye contact with Collins, appearing hollow and lifeless as if she was already dead. “I had my reasons, Collins. You’re a good man, how this story plays out is now entirely in your hands. I just hope you know what you’re doing.” She stated, with a degree of finality.
Biting his lip, Collins nodded silently. He turned and gazed at the two-way mirror on the wall beside him, wondering if anyone was gazing in. All he could see was his own scruffy brown hair, medium complexion, and shallow features, the bags under his eyes that seemed to deepen day by day, as a five-o’clock shadow crept over his jaw; shaving wasn’t always omnipresent in his routine. Dressed in the same lab-coat, shirt, and pants as every other researcher; the only real difference being his coat hung open to reveal a black dress-shirt rather than the more popular blue or white. In all of this he saw a mere man in a constant state of disrepair, hardly a model Foundation figure, yet speaking to demons and conducting research all the same. If anyone was looking in, what would they see? It made him wonder: Do I know what I’m doing? Something he wasn’t sure he would ever truly know for himself. “Goodbye, Dr. Garcia.” He bid, turning fully as he made his way out of the interrogation room.
Bombarded with the warmer feel of Site-59’s upper levels, it is amazing how a single organization could feel and appear so different. Once Collins made his way out of the interrogation area, and back into the low-level offices, everything seemed to brighten up. Spruce painted walls and latticed floors, as he walked past far homelier offices than anything his staff would be granted on the lower levels. Everything seemed so casual; the blissful ignorance to be an archivist or an otherwise low level researcher. Of course Collins had spent a good couple years in the surface levels of the Site, but ever since he started climbing the ranks he’d been far further down. Now the upper levels just felt strange.
Collins had a schedule to maintain, hence it wasn’t long before he’d made his way to one of the central elevators that could take him deeper into the bowels of the containment site. A swipe from his card gave him access to the otherwise restricted lower levels, and soon he was on his way as the industrial elevator began descending, and its screen began counting the floors. Everything was plain enough for the first couple floors, till the wall on one side of the elevator fell away, revealing the cold guts that were within every containment Site. Beyond the glass stretched hundreds of modular ‘cells’ that were introduced as needed, as Site-59 gradually expanded. Security paced around on the catwalks between them, ensuring everything operated smoothly behind the scenes.
Soon enough the elevator dinged, with the number -12 displayed on screen, one of the lowest levels of light entity containment, as its doors slid open. Once again, Collins was back in the stark white corridors he was so familiar with. With a quick step, Collins paced down the corridors, his shoes clacking loudly against the tiled floor as he hastily made his way toward his office. It stood out well enough from the rest, being Dr. Garcia’s before it was his, it was one of older ones, sharing the same warmer aesthetic of the Sites upper levels. Unlocking it, he swung the door open, leaving it so as he entered, he’d be in for a second, it wasn’t worth closing. Dashing over to one of many filing cabinets lining his wall, he opened one of the drawers and retrieved a folder marked with the day’s date. He thumbed it open and began skimming over its contents.
Just then a second pair of footsteps stopped just outside of his office, “Hello, Doctor.”
Collins briefly looked over his shoulder, noting his assistant standing in the doorway, before returning to the folder. “Morning Phyllis, just give me a moment and we’ll be on our way.”
“It’s not exactly morning anymore, sir, it’s a bit past noon.” She mentioned.
Collins briefly glanced at her again to make sure she wasn’t pulling his leg, and considering she displayed her usual focus, she certainly wasn’t. “Guess we’re running late then. Hopefully they’ve got something good down there then, cause we certainly don’t have time to grab lunch up here anymore.” He mentioned, shutting the folder as he tucked it under his arm and took it with him. “Come along, Phyllis, before Wilcox yells at me.” He beckoned, exiting his office as he shut and locked the door behind him, before speeding off down the corridor with his assistant in tow.
The whole process for getting to Hell had been streamlined to a smoothly running machine, as was necessary for the vast amounts of material the foundation was transporting. They now had dedicated staff for creating the portals, speeding up and making the whole process more precise. Experiments involving copying or using photocopies of the runes for reference unfortunately failed, as they discovered that only the person holding the book could activate them, at least that was the case with Humans. Either way, thanks to scheduling, the staff members had already fully drawn up the rune, ignited it, and were just waiting for Collins to arrive. In short order, Collins did just that. Wandering through the door of the experiment chamber, a bright, opaque, glowing white circle greeted them on the far wall of the empty room.
Standing before the portal, Collins peered over to see Phyllis fidgeting with the seams on the edges on her lab-coat pockets. “Nervous?” He asked.
“Well, it is my first journey into Hell. I’m curious to see if it’s all you made it out to be.” She seemed to stare at the portal almost awestruck, perhaps concerned about going through. “Didn’t think I’d ever say that.” She commented, looking back at Collins.
“There’s a lot of things I didn’t think I would say before joining the Foundation.” Collins added, “Just relax, we’re not doing anything too extreme today.” He reassured, as he began to take large steps forward, toward the portal. Creeping closer and closer, till he was just centimeters away, one last large leap and everything faded away as that same cold sensation flooded over him again.
Within a moment it all dissipated once again, as Collins now appeared in an almost identical room. Phyllis passed through a moment later, as they both stood by and watched as a staff member holding the Grimoire leaned over and touched the edge of the portal, causing it to fade and disappear. Just a plain white wall replacing it. “Welcome to the Human Embassy.” The man greeted. “We were expecting you twenty minutes ago, Dr. Collins.”
“Tell Administrator Wilcox I had a hang-up, I’ll get suited up and get to testing ASAP.” Collins replied, already making his way toward the exit.
“There’s been a change of schedules, Doctor.” The staff member mentioned, “The Administrator requested that you wait for him outside.” He explained.
Collins stopped in his tracks, “You gotta be kidding me! Tell- ugh, never mind.” Collins relented, “Come along Phyllis, we need to suit up.” He mentioned, his assistant following after him as they left the room.
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The Human embassy was serving as the Foundation’s temporary headquarters in Hell, so long as Site-727 was under construction. Hence the old building that Lucifer leased over to them, had been hastily converted to hold temporary experiment chambers through which they could establish secure travel lines. Otherwise operations had been a drag, no major actions could be taken so long as Site-727 was under construction. Fortunately, the Foundation was able to take control over the street adjacent to the Embassy with little conflict. However there had also been little contact with any of their supposed competitors, meaning they had no idea what they were up against.
Having put the suit on so many times at this point, Collins had managed to put the bulky fire-retardant suit on in minutes. Now he waited in the hall, holding onto his helmet and files, as his assistant needed a bit more time. Soon however she emerged too, entering into the hall as the fluorescent lights shone down and reflected off of the suits material.
“God, how do you manage to work in this?” Phyllis asked, adjusting the last few pieces into place, as she straightened herself out.
“You get used to-“ Collins slowed as he noticed something peculiar about her suit, “-it?” On the belt going around Phyllis’ waist, right beside where her radio pack was mounted, he identified a black polymer holster, with an angular pistol situated within it. “Is that-?” Collins pointed at the weapon.
Phyllis frowned for a moment, gazing down to where he pointed as the realization came to her. “Oh, yes, sorry I meant to tell you. I put in a request to be armed whenever working within SCP-666.” She explained.
“But why?” Collins asked, “No matter what we’re doing we’ll always have MTF Xi-1 with us.”
“It’s more of a personal comfort.” She elaborated, “I requested it after the containment breach, had a few too many close calls that day, not something I wanna be unprepared for.”
“It’s fine by me,” Collins mentioned, placing his helmet over his head before sealing the suit airtight. “Just as long as you don’t point it at my head again.” He joked, waiting for Phyllis to do the same before the two headed off down the corridors and made their way to the lobby.
There was hardly any commotion within the embassy, apart from the occasional staff member or Xi-1 soldier wandering through the halls, most Foundation personnel were either at their work station or off on assignments; potentially getting lunch, it was noon after all. Collins was thankful really, the first few days of the embassy opening was a chaotic mess of construction crews and personnel trying to retrofit the building. Meanwhile MTF Xi-1 secured the street, leading to the local residents flooding in to see what the hubbub was about. The entire building was refitted to fit Foundation aesthetic, install Foundation systems and facilities, and ensure it had all the operations of a typical embassy found on Earth. It was a testimony to the Foundation’s efficiency that it was all done within just a couple weeks. Thankfully, since Site-727 started construction, much of that traffic has since moved along with it.
Collins and Phyllis entered the lobby, a simple affair, with just a front desk, a large model of the SCP foundation logo hanging above it, and some waiting areas, alongside plenty of security. Just beside the desk, kitted out with all his webbing and Kevlar overtop his own silver suit, was Butler. His helmet being held in his hands, as his rifle guns from its sling. Proudly displaying a pair of embroidered OD-green bars indicating his new rank of Captain. Directly beside which he bore the brand new unit-patch of MTF Xi-1; like all other unit patches, it was a circle, with a knight’s helm in the center, crested by seven interlocking rings, and flanked by a pair of swords that pointed down at a trident and a pair of horns. Not particularly subtle.
“Hey doc!” He called, “Heard you needed my boys today, they’re outside and waiting for you.”
“Not interested in joining them?” Collins asked.
“Nope, I have greater responsibility now, I gotta make sure everyone outside of Mjolnir-3 also knows where they’re going.” Butler explained, as the researchers passed by. “You’ll also wanna grab an umbrella.”
Collins stopped and turned toward the Captain, “Don’t tell me it’s one of those days.”
“Oh, it’s one of those days,” Butler confirmed. He pointed to one side of the entrance at the far side of the room, “Bucket’s there, if you want one.” There was a tall metal cylinder, from which poked the curved handles of a couple umbrellas.
Grumbling to himself, Collins left the Captain to his business, as he continued toward the large dark wood front-doors. Grasping one of the ornate brass door handles, Collins opened the door with a sharp tug, only to be presented with a screen of falling water droplets. Almost akin to a monsoon, the rain was such that Collins couldn’t see the other side of the street from his position; he could barely make out the outline of the MRAPs waiting for him. Darkening Hell to almost night-time levels of lighting, as the streets were near to flooding. Collins sighed, the suits they wore were air, and therefore water, tight, meaning he could just book-it to the vehicles. However the folder of documents he held was certainly not, along with the water-proof state of his radio being dubious at best. Hence he reluctantly reached over and grabbed an umbrella from the bucket.
“I-I didn’t expect it to rain in Hell.” Phyllis muttered quietly, retrieving an umbrella for herself.
“It doesn’t often, but when it does- It’s only the third time since we started, and it’s always this bad.” Collins explained opening his umbrella as he stepped outside. The pitter-patter on the rain shield was so loud, he had to shout in order to effectively communicate. “I’d suggest getting used to it, if you thought my reports explaining the situation were weird, then you haven’t seen anything yet. Hell is full of surprises.” Collins continued, rain splattering loudly overhead, as his boots trudged through the water flooding the street. He meandered his way toward the vehicles where a member of MTF Xi-1 waited for him.
Already in identical uniforms, a large grey rubber poncho covered all of the soldier’s identifiable equipment, with nothing visible apart from the grey visor poking out and the rifle they kept in their arms. “Happy you could join us on this fine day, Doc.”
“That you Ward?” Collins asked, attempting to recognize the sound of the voice.
“Yes sir.” The Sergeant confirmed, “Everything's packed and locked as you requested. Street’s shut down and my guys are awaiting further orders.” She elaborated, as visually there seemed to be no sign of the rest of her men, at least not within the small sphere of visibility they had. “It’s coming down hard on us, Doc, we moving or what?” She asked.
“Unknown-” Collins answered, “ Wilcox told me to hold off, god knows why. Chances are we’re going to have to move our schedule up to later this evening.” He explained, “Hope you didn’t have any plans for tonight.”
“Actually I was going to take the girls out to get manicures, maybe invite the Princess along the way.” Ward joked, as another figure seemed to just appear out of the darkness beside them.
“That’s a shame Sergeant-” Wilcox shouted, holding an umbrella of his own, as he walked up beside her and Collins, “Because that will likely be the case.”
“Administrator.” Ward stated, standing up straight and at attention to her superior.
“Ah, Dr. Wilcox, how nice of you to join us.” Collins remarked, in the same gesture as War had greeted him earlier.
“It’s Administrator now.” Wilcox corrected for what seemed to be the millionth time, before nodding to the Sergeant, letting her revert her stance, becoming more relaxed once again.
“Enh, I’ll get it one day.” Collins brushed off, he’d only ever called Wilcox ‘Doctor’, by this point it was instinct. “So, what are you throwing my schedule into chaos for, Administrator?” He asked.
Wilcox leaned in closer to the doctor, both for the sake of secrecy and ease of hearing over the deafening rain. “It’s the prince, he’s summoned an audience with us, again.”
“Again?” Collins reacted, “we spoke with him Barely a week ago. It better not be about the book, we made an agreement.” Collins snapped, reaffirming his displeasure, everything planned for the day was being muddled up simply because Stolas wanted to speak with them.
“I don’t know.” Wilcox confirmed, “he guaranteed me it wasn’t but wouldn’t say anything else. Either way, you’re coming with me on this, you know how to handle the entities better than anyone else.” Wilcox ordered, before swiftly turning toward Ward and continuing. “Sergeant, I want two of your men as escorts.” He requested.
“Yes sir.” Ward confirmed. She turned and leaned into her radio as she barked into it, “Sandman, Pole, saddle up, your escorting priority assets.”
“Well, the day’s certainly changed-“ Phyllis commented, “Should I be briefed on the entities, Doctor?” She asked.
“Negative,” Collins denied, “Sorry Phyllis, but you don’t have clearance. We’re limiting access to the prince and any other dash-four entities as much as possible.” He explained, he could only imagine the kind of disappointment on his assistant’s face, with the helmet’s visor obscuring any sense of emotion. “We’ll resume our schedule later today, for now just stay put-“
“Let’s get moving, Collins!” Wilcox called, already beginning to clamber into the nearest MRAP.
“Sergeant, take care of my assistant, will you?” Collins requested, to which Ward merely nodded. “Oh, and I’m sure if you bring up your manicure masenations to the Princess that she’d love to join you.” He remarked continuing their previous jest, as he turned to go follow after Wilcox. “Be back in a bit.”
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Within a couple hours the researchers’ vehicle had continued into the city center, through the outskirts, past the rural regions, and into the lavish neighborhood of manors. All owned by the Goetias, right on the outskirts of Imp city. Now they were back in familiar places. Sitting amongst the couches previously used for cover and torn up by gunfire, now replaced with fresh identical copies. A large fireplace and mantle burning on one side of the room, as the two opposing parties sat center-stage. Collins and Wilcox sat in one couch, clothed in their silver suits, each holding documentation of various varieties. Their escorts, Adela and Sandman, stood back closer to the door, still wearing their ponchos dripping droplets of rain onto the floor. Opposing them on the opposite couch sat Stolas and Blitzo, both dressed in their typical attire. In a similar stance to the researchers’ escorts, Milllie, Moxie, and Loona stood further back on the far side of the room. Thus the Imp, Prince, and Researchers were well underway in their negotiations.
“I don’t mean any disrespect-” Wilcox interrupted before letting the conversation continue, “but if we’re going to speak along the same lines as we have in the past, then I’d request that you send your companions away.” He suggested, earning a scorned scowl from Blitzo.
Stolas remained as professional as always, “Today that won’t be necessary,” he replied, “as what I summoned you for is regarding them.”
Collins and Wilcox briefly glanced toward each other, each acknowledging what the other was thinking of the situation. “I’m sure you’re aware that, with our current state in Hell, our time is limited and extremely valuable. We agreed in good faith that you would call us only when needed.” Wilcox hunched forward leaning his elbows against his knees, forming a philosopher’s cradle with his hands. “I sincerely hope that you are not wasting our time.”
“We’re already here, might as well hear them out.” Collins commented, half detached from the conversation, spending more time reviewing his files than actually engaging in negotiations.
Surprisingly, Blitzo had managed to contain himself rather well so far, only giving off snide glances rather than say anything that could compromise their position. Stolas eyed both the researchers before continuing, “Though we made an arrangement regarding my need and use of the Grimoire, I was not the only one relying on it. I’m sure you’re both familiar with my friend’s previous business-”
“If this has anything to do with restarting I.M.P. then we can end these negotiations now.” Wilcox interrupted, “They are what dragged us down here to begin with.”
“-Or otherwise compensate them for the loss of business and employment.” Stolas continued.
Blitzo suddenly turned toward stolas, his eyes growing wide with disappointment and betrayal, “Wait, you said we’d-”
“I’m sorry Blitz, but they were never going to give the book back, let alone let you continue your business. At least now we can get the next best thing.” Stolas explained in as gentle a manner as he could while still remaining professional. Blitzo broke eye contact, briefly gazing at the floor before sitting back on the couch, his eyes becoming hollow. “I’m sorry.” Stolas restated.
“Compensated how?” Wilcox asked, sitting back in his seat, sharply leaning on his arm rest supporting his head on his fist. “We’re not a job agency, and for the amount of people who died due to your actions- let’s just say that monetary compensation is out of the question.”
“They may prove useful for Alpha-9.” Collins suggested, finally putting down his files.
“Perhaps…” Wilcox hummed, “Mr. Blitz, would you be interested in serving the SCP Foundation?”
Blitzo’s eyes darted up, giving a half hearted frown as he reengaged the researchers, “Why in Hell would I-” He stopped as he felt a sharp nudge from Stolas’ elbow against his shoulder. “Ah fuck it, I’ll take whatever at this point.” He sighed.
“Very well then,” Wilcox affirmed, “Tell me, what skills do you and your companions possess that could aid the Foundation?” He asked, passing the stage over to the Imp.
Blitzo hesitated, “Well- we can kill, we made a business of it after all, um.” He searched his brain, desperately trying to think of anything else they might find interesting. “I stole a lot of shit as a kid, oh and we can be sneaky, at least decently.”
“Dr. Collins, your report indicated that the entities were bested by Mjolnir-3 of Nu-7 on every engagement, correct?” Wilcox asked.
“Yes sir.” Collins confirmed.
“And there were multiple instances of the entities struggling to kill civilian targets before the Foundation became involved, yes?”
“Primarily the ‘Martha’ family, yes.”
“Not to mention that ‘Last Hope’ primarily uses more inconspicuous entities.’ Wilcox added, as he gradually drew to his conclusion. “Outperformed by already available Foundation agents, conspicuous and unable to be deployed to populated areas, and with no available special abilities. Honestly at this rate they’d be a hindrance to Alpha-9 more than an asset.”
“Perhaps not to Alpha-9, however they may prove viable to our operations down here.” Collins added, “Though their militant performance is admittedly lacking, within Hell they would draw virtually no attention due to their low status.” He explained, “They may have a use as scout units or spies within SCP-666 itself.”
“S-so, we’re in?” Blitzo asked, disbelief and amazement in his tone, as things finally seemed to be going his way.
“Not quite,” Collins clarified, “There is much more paperwork and processing before we form you into an official MTF, but that might not be what we want.”
“You want them to run around, with foundation support, but without foundation supervision?” Wilcox asked, concerned at the implications of giving them that much freedom and power.
Collins looked back at the Imps, he should’ve expected this to get push-back, there’s a reason why so few SCPs were used for field operations, even by ‘Last Hope’. “To be fair, it’s not like we have much of a grid down here to monitor them with, even then that freedom might make them more useful. Our understanding of Hell isn’t complete yet, so that freedom would allow them to act within their normal bounds. Besides Hell isn’t Earth, the same morals don’t apply. Plus there’s no danger in it, it’s not like there’s any humans, GOIs, or other SCPs down here for them to endanger.” Collins explained, “Provided they can deliver, that freedom will likely allow them to perform far better when operating down here.”
Wilcox nodded, “It’ll certainly be easier for locals to gather intelligence than any of our agents.” He turned quiet for a while, as if contemplating his options. “Then it’s decided,” he concluded, turning to look at the Imp straight on. “Mr. Blitz, do you swear service to the SCP Foundation and to protect humanity no matter the cost?”
Blitzo looked to Stolas, who nodded to him, yet there was something he didn’t like about the whole situation. They had kidnapped him, they were the ones who threatened and almost killed them, they were the one responsible for I.M.P. shutting down, and now he was going to put his and his friends' lives into their hands? Then again, pay is pay, and if they're allied then at least they won’t be targeted anymore. “I-I do, I guess.”
“Very well then.” Wilcox affirmed, “By taking this oath all actions you undertake and any affiliations you have with the Foundation will be classified from this point forward. Failure to comply with, act in violation of, or any actions that may result in the endangerment of-“
“Yea yea, I get it, do my job and don’t fuck it up.” Blitzo interrupted, skipping past the researcher’s semantics.
With a slightly disgruntled tone, Wilcox continued, “Welcome to the SCP Foundation Mr. Blitz.”
“Ordinarily, entities would be rewarded for Foundation service with various concessions to their containment, however I’m sure we can substitute that with other forms of payment.” Collins explained. “Even in your unofficial position, there is still a significant amount of paperwork and documentation to sort out. We’ll send you everything at a later time, and I suggest you read it, even minor infractions carry severe penalties.”
Blitzo crossed his arms and scoffed, “Of course, always the fine-print.”
“In that case, I believe that concludes our business.” Wilcox stated, rising from his seat, closely followed by Collins, as the two researchers began to leave.
Blitzo jumped up and rushed to get in their way, “Wait wait, what about my employees, they’re getting the same offer too right?” He asked.
“Of course.” Wilcox confirmed, hardly stopping to even acknowledge the Imp as he continued on.
“We’ll be in contact, Blitz.” Collins added, briefly glancing at the Imp, as he followed after the Administrator.
The researchers passed through the door and back into the lavish halls of the manor, with their escort filing in after them, their business had truly concluded. “What a waste of time.” Wilcox commented once they were far enough from prying eyes. “All this for a handful of new ‘agents’ that have an abysmal track record.”
He was right, at least partly, the fact that the Imps made a living of murdering people certainly wasn’t a good look, especially for the Foundation. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see. You have to admit though, they’ll have much more lee-way down here than any Human agents.”
“I really don’t get what you see in them.” Wilcox stated, “I’m sure you’ll have some assignments for them soon enough, I’m looking forward to reading your reports on them, Collins.”
After the many rounds of negotiations they’d had with Prince Stolas to this point, finding their way out of the manor had practically become second nature. Arriving back outside beside their vehicle in just a couple minutes. Rather than being met with the same wall of rain they had arrived in, Hell’s mild red sky shone through the clouds. The large red pentagram now visible, as the ground was littered with puddles.
“Well, at least that has cleared up.” Collins mentioned, as the researchers began their return journey.
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Rumbling to a halt, the MRAP was back in front of the embassy. The sky had turned to a deep crimson color, as the day grew long. Dismounting from the oversized vehicle, the researchers paced through the puddles that littered the street. With the storm having long since cleared, the exterior of the embassy was finally visible.
God knows where Lucifer found the place. It was an old government style building of sorts, composed of a deep beige, almost yellow, stone, in a French baroque style. Though it had certainly seen better days, with much of its outside decor being significantly weathered. It certainly didn’t help that the hastily mounted modern and sleek foundation logo on the facade of the building clashed horridly with the rest of the estetic. Otherwise the building was of a good size, tall more-so than anything, about nine stories. It’s clear it fulfilled some sort of important purpose before the foundation acquired it, as it was spaced off from the other buildings in the block and had a tall iron fence along its perimeter.
Lucifer had given them a fortress, however it only made Collins think of the Iran Hostage Crisis or the Siege on the Iranian Embassy. Perhaps that’s exactly what Lucifer wanted, keep them thinking of their vulnerability. Of course he didn’t know about all the security the foundation had put in place. Everything from reinforced concrete to enough scanners and sensors to keep watch over the whole neighborhood without having to look outside. It was the perfect Alamo if the Foundation ever needed one, he just prayed that they never would.
Collins and Wilcox were greeted by Sgt. Ward and Cpt. Butler, now with the rubber ponchos removed, showing-off the rest of their kit that was previously covered by it. “Welcome back Doc, Administrator.” Butler greeted.
Before anyone else had the chance to speak, Ward quickly interrupted. “Sarge, we’ve got a situation, -He- ‘s back.” She started with cryptic dramatics.
“Who’s back?” Collins asked.
“-He- ‘s back.” Butler restated, “Call it in, Sergeant, let’s go greet our little friend.”
Though it may have been against his better judgment, Collin kept close to the commotion, curious about the soldiers’ cryptic demeanor. Wilcox had long since left, undoubtedly having more important things to do, regardless he’d get the after-action report on his desk soon enough. In his place, Phyllis joined Collins outside, initially to continue their scheduled testing procedures, however, once Collins explained the situation to her, her own curiosity pulled her into the action.
A dozen more soldiers of MTF Xi-1 had since come from the embassy, lining up, alongside those who were already outside, perpendicular to the street. A series of barricades that blocked off the street gave the soldiers some semblance of cover alongside the corners and alleys they could hide behind. Collins wandered up beside Butler and Ward, gazing out down the street in the same direction as they were. There in the distance was a tall slender figure, wearing a black and yellow pinstripe suit and top hat. Though the upper half of the figure appeared humanoid, its legs seemed to have been replaced by a long scaly tail that coiled underneath the figure. It appeared to be yelling, giving some grand speech of sorts, though it was too far away to actually make out what it was saying. The icing on top of this cake of weirdness, was the small army of bipedal eggs, carrying a variety of weapons from knives to cattle-prods, standing behind the figure.
“Huhn, he doesn’t have his blimp this time.” Ward commented, as a note of disappointment in her tone, as if the whole situation before her was utterly benign.
“Are those eggs?” Phyllis asked, Hell definitely just got weirder .
“This has happened before?” Collins asked, his visor hiding the utter disbelief on his face.
“Oh yea,” Butler confirmed, “happened a week back while you and the Administrator were gone. Last time he had this big zeppelin he parked, repelled down from, followed by his little army, cackling like some supervillain-“
“Shouldn’t we be doing something? Like clearing them out or something?” Phyllis interrupted, bringing everyone’s attention back to the army assembled before them.
Butler groaned, “Sergeant, go get the megaphone.” He ordered.
“He didn’t listen last time.” She replied.
“Yea well, maybe he’s grown a brain since then, and listens this time.” Butler joked, as Ward walked off to fetch the device. “Anyway, last time he sent wave after wave of those things after us, it was just a shooting gallery, they didn’t even get close. Afterward he cursed us, got back on his ship and left. Felt like a damn cartoon.”
“What Captain, you don’t like fighting Cobra-Commander?” Ward added, walking back over with the large bull-horn in her hands. The Captain snickered, before growing quiet. Ward stepped forward, aiming the megaphone at the figure, as she spoke into the attached microphone. “Attention Imp, Demon, or denizen of Hell!” She bellowed, “You are trespassing on and displaying hostility toward SCP Foundation property and personnel! Disarm and disengage immediately! Failure to comply will prompt retaliation from Foundation forces, you have been warned!”
The figure shouted back, though was still too far to be understood, however it also shook its fist in the air, implying some sort of anger. “Told you he wouldn’t listen.” Ward repeated.
Butler leaned into his radio, “All units be on standby.” He ordered, as many of the soldiers in the line took up fighting stances and aimed their rifles at the entity down range. “Give him another chance, Sergeant.”
Ward relented as she turned the megaphone on once more and gave the same warning.
“Do you think your men could capture this entity alive, Captain?” Collins asked.
“Don’t think it’d be much of a challenge,” Butler considered, “can’t make any promises though, shit happens in battle.”
“The risks are acceptable.” Collins confirmed. He had faith in MTF Xi-1’s abilities, and if the entity was truly as little of a threat as it seemed then odds of success were high. Now he only had to keep his fingers crossed that ‘shit’ would in fact not happen.
Butler leaned into his radio again, “Attention all units, attention all units, Tophat has been marked as a priority target, only fire if fired upon, I repeat: return fire only. Entity is to be captured if possible, the rest are free game.” Clicking off his radio, he called out to a handful of soldiers, “Two, Three, Five, gather round.” He ordered, as Ward, Adela, and Sandman assembled beside the Captain. “Doc wants to capture Tophat, over there, alive. We know he's gonna send waves of his little henchmen at us, which makes getting at him difficult. I want you guys on the far left of the line, you’ll be fireteam Alpha, wait for the ranks to thin, before breaking through and going after Tophat, again we want him alive. I’m gonna pull some of the guys together on the right, they're gonna launch a diversionary attack to give you guys the opening.” Butler explained, laying out the full battle plan, as he gazed around at each of the soldiers' visors individually. “Copacetic?” He asked.
“HUA.” The three soldiers replied simultaneously.
“Alright, get to your positions.” The soldiers quickly ran down the line, forming up on the left side, just as he’d told them to. Butler again leaned into his radio, gazing to the right side, “who’s on that end?” He mumbled to himself, “Nine, Twelve, Thirteen, you guys are fireteam Bravo, when I give the order launch a diversionary attack on your side. You guys need to give fireteam Alpha a gap to slip through. Hit ‘em hard, and make it look good.”
Thus the battle lines had been drawn, with MTF Xi-1 assembled into a firing line and their strategy in place, while they faced off against the loosely assembled gaggle of eggs opposite them. In the distance, the entity yelled something, and just like that the horde of eggs charged. With no apparent greater strategy, hundreds of small bipedal eggs in suits charged, without any regard to their own lives, straight into the guns of MTF Xi-1.
Butler leaned into his radio once more, “All units -open fire-“ he stated calmly. A barrage of automatic fire suddenly filled the air, as the line of men turned to a wall of fire.
All progress from the army of eggs appeared to cease, as none could get within even a yard of the soldiers before exploding into a splatter of yolk. Yet regardless, the charge continued either way, even if dozens were cut down in mere seconds. Soon enough the successive waves were trampling through the puddles of yolk from their fallen fellows. Quickly it became clear that the bipedal eggs were no real threat, allowing the soldiers to try something more bold.
“Bravo team, push up!” He ordered, as the three soldiers he’d assigned to it earlier swiftly complied with their previously established plan. Covering one another, the three soldiers bound forward, gradually pushing against the eggs. Creating a bulge on the right side of the line, the soldiers Bearily advanced half a kilometer before the entity fought the bait. Successive waves of the eggs began to concentrate themselves toward the right in order to prevent the three soldiers from breaking through. On the left side the numbers of eggs were quickly dwindling from hundreds to dozens. It was far from optimal, but they had to use it before the entity could react and rebalance the line. “It’s the best we’re gonna get, Alpha, now’s the time.” Butler barked into his radio.
Ward gave a curt response before moving her arm back and motioning it forward with an open palm, ordering the other two to advance. Walking forward slowly at first, they gave a couple quick bursts of fire to dispatch the last of their opponents, but soon enough they had a clear shot at their target. Pushing off from their position, Ward led the charge as she burst into a sprint rushing through the gap that had been left in the egg’s line. Adela and Sandman were close behind her, only needing to fire off their weapons a couple more times to pick off strays, but were otherwise unopposed.
Though the eggs were hardly a threat to the battle line, if the eggs managed to fill the gap while alpha team was behind them then the three soldiers would be trapped and far more easily overwhelmed. “Seventeen, Eleven, move into the breach. Keep it open, otherwise Alpha is trapped.” Butler ordered, sending the two soldiers to the left side to prevent any of the eggs from trying to out-flank alpha team. Though Butler wondered if any of the eggs were even smart enough to think of such a move.
As fireteam Alpha approached the features of the entity leading the egg horde gradually became clearer. It was a very tall and slender figure, beneath it was a large coiled snake-like tail covered in eyes, while he glared at the team with red eyes and a toothy smile, which was literally mirrored on the tophat. “Oh, so you think you can take me? Then bring it on then!” The entity called as the team came within a dozen meters of him.
“Terminate if necessary!” Ward called, reiterating Butler’s previous orders as the group continued their charge toward the entity.
The illusion that the entity bore no ranged weapons quickly shattered, as a large tube-like weapon appeared in the entity’s arms. Rocket-launcher-esque, it had a red eye, with a long black pupil, in the center and a series of domed protrusions around the muzzle. Holding it down at his hip, the entity aimed it at the team.
Sandman was first to notice, “Gun!” he called, as the others instinctively raised their weapons.
Rather than fire any sort of missile, two sets of pitch-black tentacles emerged from the domes framing the muzzle. Each tentacle had an attached hand, with a similar red eye on the back of each palm, that stretched and bent like rubber. At an amazingly fast speed, the arms stretched across the distance in seconds, catching the soldiers off-guard as they failed to fire. Moving too fast to react in time, the arms reached out toward Sgt. Ward. Noticing just at the last second, she paced back as quickly as she could, though it was already too late. Two hands wrapped themselves around her wrists, pulling her hands apart as she was forced to drop her weapon, before the other two graped onto her ankles, lifting her slightly off the ground as she was forced back and pushed to the otherside of the street. Slamming her into the wall of a neighboring apartment building, the hands held onto her like steel, almost seeming to solidify, preventing Ward from breaking free. Though it didn’t stop her from trying, wrangling and struggling against the hands, to no avail.
As Ward was bashed against the building, Adela raised her weapon and fired a burst through the nearest of the arms. A series of perfectly circular holes tore through the nearest arm, through shrunk up like rubber till the holes that the 5.56mm bullets left were mere pinpricks. Both her and Sandman were left aghast, neither knowing how they could free the Sergeant.
“Go!” Ward yelled from across the street, still struggling against the rubber arms, “Get tophat! I’ll be fine!”
Unable to do anything for their comrade, Adela and Sandman turned and continued their charge toward the entity. It, however, wasn’t going to just let the soldiers capture him.
Moving the weapon, from which the rubber arms emerged, off to the side, he held it one hand as he used the now free hand to retrieve a chain from his person. Uncoiling it, he whipped it forward, aiming for the nearest soldier. Adela held her weapon out to block the strike, however the chain coiled around the center of the machine gun, wrapping around tight a firm backward pull sent it flying out of her hands as it careened off to the side. The snake let go of the chain, and before the soldier even had time to pull her sidearm he was already on top of her, wrapping its tail around the soldier as Adela’s arms were crushed against her sides, unable to draw her pistol.
Sandman was the last man standing, though he wasn’t spared long. As the entity entrapped Adela he moved forward striking with his claws. Narrowly blocking it, the claws racked up the side of Sandman’s rifle as he used it to block the strike. The claws struck with such force that the rifle’s aluminum magazine was dented and bent, as the weapon’s optic was almost torn off the rifle. In the panic, the one chambered round went off, veering harmlessly off to the side, however the rifle locked open as the broken magazine refused to feed bullets into the weapon.
Making as much distance as he could, Sandman got a couple meters back from the entity. He pressed on the magazine release and tugged on the dented magazine, however it didn’t budge. His rifle was useless and the snake was lunging for another strike. Keeping one hand on his rifle, his other quickly snapped to the pistol holstered at his hip. Presenting his rifle forward, the snake struck with its claws again, striking the rifle and launching it from Sandman’s hand. Before the entity had time to retract its arm, Sandman used his now free hand to grab onto the snake’s forearm. Having been smiling throughout the skirmish, the entity’s eyes suddenly went wide as its mouth went aghast, realizing his mistake.
Grabbing a firm hold of the arm and sleeve of the entity, Sandman harshly pulled forward, throwing the entire creature off balance as it appeared to be moments away from falling flat on its face. Simultaneously, he drew his sidearm. Keeping the entity teetering forward, Sandman had a clear shot at its head, as the soldier shoved his weapon forward and pressed into the side of the snake’s head. Wincing sharply, the entity clasped its eyes shut, scrunching up its shoulders in some last desperate defense.
“Surrender!”
Cautiously, the snake opened one of its eyes as he glanced over to the soldier firmly holding the gun’s muzzle to his head. “Y-you’re not going to-”
“No-” Sandman snapped, breathing harshly, slowly and loudly, “Surrender.”
Sandman let go of the snake’s hand as he allowed him to slowly raise his hands. The rubber hands released Ward and slithered back into their housings, as the entity released Adela and allowed her to rise to her feet. To which she quickly scrambled after her gun and likewise pointed it at the snake, while Ward approached the group.
“Well-” she huffed, gazing around the battlefield as much of the fighting in general had died down, with a small field of splattered egg yolks and shells littering the street. “That’s the end of that - I guess. The fuck was that bondage trap you strung me up with?”
The snake winced again, “It’s not- ugh, why does everyone bring that up? It’s got nothing to do with any of -that-.”
“I don’t know, you tied her up, wrapped yourself around me-” Adela snickered, “Some freaky shit you’re into.”
Blushing slightly around his cheeks, the entity shut his eyes and groaned, “Please just- imprison me, or whatever it is you want.”
“Alright, get him outta’ here-” Ward ordered, as Adela and Sandman began to frog-march the Demon back to their lines, “I’m sure the Doc ’ll be happy.”
They returned to friendly lines, a dozen out of hundreds of eggs had been imprisoned by the Foundation, seated against the embassy wall, under guard by MTF Xi-1. Meanwhile Dr. Collins sat crouched down, poking and prodding at a yolk and shell of one of the smashed eggs, with a pencil. He was talking about his ‘discoveries’ aloud as Phyllis was scribing down his rambling into notes. Butler stood beside Collins as well, though was merely observing.
“Ah-” Collins reacted, tossing the pencil aside as he suddenly rose and walked toward the entity, “What do we have here? You were right, Captain, your boys certainly could handle it.”
“Good job, Sergeant.” Butler mentioned, motioning over a handful of soldiers who took the entity from them.
“Aren’t you curious?” Collins murmured to himself, getting close to the snake’s face as he looked him over. The entity shifted his head back as a perturbed look came over his face. “Sorry-” Collins backed away slightly, “What’s your name then?”
With the utmost flamboyancy, the entity responded, “I am the great Sir Pentious.”
“Right-” Collins mentioned, “Phyllis please write an entry for SCP-666—” Collins paused, “Is he a dash two or three?”
“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow during the first council meeting.” Phyllis mentioned, “Though, by what we’ve seen today, I doubt it’s the latter.”
“Well then, SCP-666-2-P it is.”
“Two?” Pentious asked, pearls suddenly emerging in his eyes, “As in second best?” He asked, a broad quivering smile covering his face, appearing as though he was about to cry.
“Um- sure?” Collins mentioned, “Take him in, I’ll get an interview scheduled later today.” He ordered, as Pentious’s new escort moved him into the embassy, still keeping his teary-eyed smile all the way. “Sergeant, are you and your men still operational.”
“Five needs a new rifle, otherwise we’re just a bit bruised.” Ward confirmed.
“Jesus-” Butler murmured as he took the rifle from Sandman and went to hand him a new one, “That’s a wall hanger right there.” He stated, pridefully holding up the scratched, dented and broken rifle.
“In that case we need to get a move on.” Collins ordered beginning to meander his way over to the MRAPs and containment trucks, “We’re massively behind schedule, check and make sure our guests are doing alright. Oh and make sure you take Françoi along.”
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The drive to the Hazbin Hotel wasn’t a particularly long one being that the hotel itself wasn’t in a particularly populated area of the city and thus not heavily trafficked. Adding onto that, it wasn’t particularly far and almost a straight shot from the embassy. In all manners of respect, it was pretty much ideal considering how often they had and will undoubtedly continue to visit the hotel. Dismounting from their vehicles, Collins had brought far more soldiers than he ever had before, with close to twenty situated in front of the hotel. Most however would remain outside, looking after equipment, Mjolnir-3 being the only ones that would actually enter the hotel. Otherwise all was in place, with Collins being joined by Phyllis, now carrying a plastic cat-crate, alongside Sgt. Ward and the rest of Mjolnir-3, the Foundation personnel entered the Hazbin hotel once again.
Ever since their first couple of visits, Charlie had informed them that the hotel was an open-house and that Collins didn’t have to knock every time. He still did though, just out of courtesy, before he let himself in.
There wasn’t much to greet them, Husk situated behind the bar alongside the brightly dressed Alastor seated on one of the bar stools, lastly Charlie and Vaggie seated together on the couch to the side of the hall. Nifty was god-knows where and, considering the time of day, Angel-Aust was likely ‘working’. It was quiet. Good , every day that there wasn’t chaos in the hotel meant that the subjects were less apprehensive in working with him.
Collins waved at the couple as he entered, to which Charlie practically bounced off the couch, as she moved to greet them. “Hi Doctor!” She called, “I wasn’t expecting you guys so late, after you called I thought you’d show up sooner.” Her eyes suddenly darted down to the cat-crate Phyllis was carrying, “Ooooh, what’s that?”
“We’ll get to that soon enough.” Collins dismissed, “I intended to come earlier, though there were some- complications, which forced me to postpone till later. Anyway, how have you been?”
“Oh, things have been alright.” She stated simply, “Oh, are you guys ready for the council session with my dad tomorrow?” She asked, despite not having been part of that conversation initially.
“Yea, we’re bringing the negotiators in, but I’ve been ordered to accompany and advise them.” Collins explained before indulging the curiosity; “I’m assuming your dad told you this, since you know about it.”
“Yea, that day he went on for a while about everything that had gone on. He said something about Adam and Eve too, but it just sounded like his usual reminiscing on the ‘good o’l days’ from what I remember all that happened thousands of years ago and they were just regular Humans.” Charlie explained, as Vaggie wandered up behind Charlie, hardly sharing her girlfriend’s optimism, keeping her hands crossed and her smile mellow, though she wasn’t quite frowning. Though it did remind Collins of something. “Also, I need to introduce you both to my assistant.” Collins turned toward Phyllis beside him, “Charlie, Vaggie, this is my assistant Phyllis. Phyllis, this is Charlie Morningstar, princess of Hell, and her girlfriend Vaggie.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Phyllis greeted, horribly stiff and formal.
“Hi, welcome, it’s nice to meet you.” Charlie said cheerily, while Vaggie merely waved at the Human.
“Hmm, new blood.” A crackly voice stated from behind them, as Phyllis turned to be confronted with the overly broad yellow smile of the Radio Demon. “Hel-” He began, though in a sudden panic, Phyllis jumped back, placing her hand on the back of her holstered weapon as she leapt between Ward and Collins, “-lo” Alastor finished. “Why does everyone react like that?”
“Stop it! You’re scaring them.” Charlie complained.
“And that’s Alastor.” Collins groaned, “He acts all scary, but he’s harmless really. In here at least.”
It took Phyllis a moment to snap out of her jump to action, “R-right. Is he like- a reindeer or something?” She asked Collins, taking her hand off of her pistol.
“Just a normal deer, thank you very much!” Alastor frowned, turning up his nose, as he dramaticized his offense.
“Although, it is christmas in a month, just gotta paint his nose red.” Collins commented.
Charlie practically lit up at the idea, becoming all starry eyed as she addressed Alastor, “Oh my- Yes! Alastor please, we have to do that this year!” Though the disgust on his face was clear she continued to persist, “C’mon, pleeeeeease?”
Alastor visibly recoiled back, “Um, no.” He replied curtly, “If you won’t be needing me, I’ll be over here.” He proceeded to walk back toward his place at the bar.
“You can’t escape it Al!” Charlie shouted in excited anticipation. Alastor didn't seem phased however, just waving it off over his shoulder.
Phyllis leaned in and whispered to Collins; “Are you sure this is ok, Doctor? Foundation protocols require personnel to address entities by their assigned credentials. This is very unusual for testing procedures.”
Admittedly she was right, “The entities don’t respond well to being addressed by their number. All instances where we address them by name will be edited out and replaced with their number in the transcript logs anyway.”
“Glad I’m not an archivist anymore then.” She commented.
Charlie turned back to Collins and brought the conversation back on track, “anyway, what’s on the docket today Doctor?” She asked. “You said you’d finished up the last of the interviews last time.”
“Indeed, we’ll be resuming the testing procedures that we began two months ago.” Collins stated, as Charlie’s face quickly shrank into insecurity. “We didn’t get far beyond preliminary testing and data gathering. I’ve had other tests lined up for a while but, like most things recently, have been continually postponed.”
“R-right-“ Charlie murmured, a slight wince on her face as she continued, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. Could we stop doing the tests?”
Before Charlie could say another word, Collins walked up to her, signaling for Phyllis and the soldiers to stay back. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he ushered Charlie to the side where they could speak more privately. “What’s wrong? You weren’t so apprehensive the first time. Besides, you seemed to almost have fun with the interviews.”
“Oh no, the interviews weren’t a big deal.” She clarified, “That was just talking, besides I thought it was fun to see how you would react when I told you about all the wacky and weird stuff about both myself and Hell.” She explained, noticeably lightening up until she moved onto her next topic when her mood became dreary again. “It’s just the tests and data gathering you did the first time were kinda pushing it. Everyone was complaining about it afterward, especially Angel when you took samples of his fur. It’s all just very intrusive, Doctor, and it’s not the kind of thing I want going on in the hotel.” Compared to what Collins usually dealt with, she was surprisingly well constructed and mature in her complaints. Then again, Hell’s standard seemed to be shoot first, scream second and ask questions never, so it was certainly an improvement.
Collins had a hard time disputing her points, in all regards they were fair, but he’d still have to work around them. “I’m sorry that the preliminary tests were uncomfortable. I can guarantee that nothing moving forward will be as personally or biologically intrusive. Those initial steps were just necessary to establish a baseline.” He explained.
“I understand, but it’s just not what I want happening inside the hotel.” She refuted, doubling down on her argument. “I want this place to be open and welcoming to demons who want a second chance. Having a group of scientists come over with armed guards to perform tests and experiments just doesn’t fit with that, sorry.”
“I see-“ Collins murmured. The variety of subjects available at the hotel, combined with the relative safety, due to Charlie’s pacifism, made it too valuable to give up. Those elements were now exactly what was beginning to jeopardize their position. He could play a different angle however. “Perhaps I have been asking for too many favors in our relationship.” He admitted, “what if we offered something in return?” He proposed. “You’re trying to redeem demons, correct? In which I’m sure you’re focusing on a lot of psychological factors, considering how much you emphasize a positive environment and non hostility.”
“I-I suppose, yes.” Charlie uttered, appearing more confused than anything else, “I want people to see that they don’t have to give up, even if they’re in Hell, and to think differently, really.” She explained, “what are you getting at?”
“What if we helped you achieve that?” Collins continued, “The Foundation is the single largest organization on Earth, provided the requests get approved, we could get you just about anything you’d need. Top of the line therapists, psychologists, and psychiatrists, alongside any medications or even amnestics that you might need. If you keep working with us, we can provide you with a whole professional team specifically designed to help in your goal.”
Charlie’s eyes became brighter and brighter as Collins added more and more items to the list. “Could you really do that for me?”
“Absolutely.” Collins confirmed, “under a couple conditions of course.” He clarified, as Charlie suddenly became more stern. “I’d like to keep the hotel available as a testing ground. Also, if all these personnel are going to come work at the hotel, I would like them to be under armed guard.” Charlie acted as though she was about to object but Collins continued before she had the chance. “I know that you try to keep this place as peaceful as possible, but, as you and I both know, incidents still happen, and when they happen I don’t want to be left with a bunch of dead therapists. We can keep it minimal though, it doesn't have to be anything too extreme.”
Charlie averted her gaze to the floor, rubbing the side of her head with her hand as she bit her lip. Remaining like this for a couple seconds before looking back at Collins with her response; “When it comes to these tests, I don’t want any of them to be anything dangerous or too intrusive, ok?”
Collins felt that familiar awful pit in his stomach grow, he knew what he was going to answer but also what he had to do. “Of course, I don’t want to endanger any of you.” He was going to have to make an exception today, but he promised himself to try to be better in future.
“In that case-“ Charlie paused for a moment, reconsidering everything before she made any formal agreements. “I think we’ve got a deal, Doctor.”
“Non magically binding?” Collin remarked.
Charlie chuckled slightly, “of course not.”
“In any case, I’m sure you understand that I can’t get this stuff instantly. It’ll take at least a week for all the paperwork to be signed off, approved, and filed away, let alone the transfer of resources.” Collins explained, “but I’ll try my best.” He reassured. “Anyway, shall we continue with testing?”
“Yes, I suppose we can.” Charlie agreed, clear apprehension in her tone though she kept her smile on her face and made the best of it. The two returned to the rest of the group as they proceeded with what had been planned.
“Besides, I think you’ll get a kick out of the first test.” Collins mentioned, motioning for Phyllis to hand over the cat-crate to him, which she did before taking out a clipboard, with various pieces of documentation attached. “Sergeant, make sure your body-cam is recording.” Ward was the only squad member actively engaged in the testing, with the rest lazying around the hall and hardly paying attention. “Phyllis, write up preliminary findings and results, let’s not give the archivists too hard of a time.” He gave his assistants a couple seconds to prepared themselves, “We recording?”
“Just started, sir.” Ward replied, fiddling with the buttons on her chest-mounted camera.
“Very well.” Collins murmured, before shifting his tone to the standard Foundation slow, composed, professional tone that dominated the majority of testing logs. “Testing log, cross entity experimentation between SCP-666 and several other entities. Testing is administered by Dr. Collins, and is assisted by RA. Phyllis, Xi-1-2, and various other members of MTF Xi-1. Testing is being conducted within SCP-666, at the Hazbin Hotel residence. Current subjects include SCP-666-2-V and SCP-666-5-CM though may also include SCP-666-3-A and 666-2-H. Begin log:”
“Are you going to be referring to us by those stupid numbers during all of this?” Vaggie asked.
“No, it’s just for documentation purposes.” Collins assured, before continuing. He placed the cat-crate on the ground and unlatched the door, easing it open as he talked; “We’re curious about how other SCPs would interact with Hell, so we’ve brought a couple down to experiment with.” As the door opened, the slight sheen of something round became visible. Creeping forward to the edge of the crate, a small orange teardrop-shaped object, with a large eye in the center, appeared and peered out. “Charlie, Vaggie, I’d like to introduce you both to SCP-131-A and B.” Gently cupping the first entity, Collins helped it out of the crate and imo to the floor, before also doing the same with a second yellow teardrop-shaped entity.
A and B proceeded to roll around the hall for a while, curiously gazing up at the painting as on the walls and the other entities present. Likewise Charlie and, to a lesser extent, Vaggie found themselves intrigued by the 131 entities, watching them scurry around.
“What are they?” Charlie asked.
“131-A and B’s origins aren’t fully understood. They are the only two of their kind known to exist, and are thought to likely be biomechanical.” Collins explained, far more liberally than he usually would when speaking of other entities.
“You’re telling us an awful lot about this. doc.” Vaggie mentioned, an air of suspicion about her as she directed her attention toward the doctor.
“They’re light containment entities and virtually harmless. Besides, there isn’t anything particularly confidential to be known about them.” Collins explained. “They’re just a pair of curious, little eye-pods.”
“Is it ok if we pick them up?” Charlie asked with a gleam in her eyes.
“Just be gentle with them.”
Crouching down as 131-B rolled close to her, Charlie tapped on the floor to beckon the entity over. Cautiously, the yellow teardrop rolled over, curiously approaching her. Once it came close enough, Charlie gently cupped the entity in her hands before lifting it off the ground. “Aw-“ She proceeded to lightly pat her hand across the top of the entity. “They’re kinda cute.” She spun suddenly on her heels, “Here Vaggie, look!” holding out the entity toward Vaggie. As 131-B neared Vaggie, it almost instantly reacted by unintelligible mumbling loudly in a high pitch tone as it tried to accelerate backwards, almost rolling off of Charlie’s hands.
“What was that?” Vaggie asked, staring at the entity with a tilted frown on her face.
“That is absolutely fascinating!” Collins butted in, running up close to Charlie and 131-B. “May I?” He asked, holding out his hands as Charlie passed the entity over to him. Holding 131-B out in his hands, Collins backed away from Charlie, turned, and slowly began to approach Vaggie. The exact same scene played out, as he approached 131-B began babbling in its high pitched tone and attempting to keep away from Vaggie. “Fascinating.” Collins repeated.
“Does it, like, have a problem with me or something?” Vaggie asked, seemingly perturbed at the entity’s unwillingness to get close to her.
“Hold on-” Collins urged, thinking for a moment, “this requires more testing.” Brushing past the girls, Collins ran up to the bar, where Husk and Alastor resided, and repeated his test once more.
“What on Earth are you doing?” Alastor asked, turning in his seat as Collins approached him with 131-B.
“Be quiet and let me do my experiment-” He urged, “also we’re not on Earth.” Like with Vaggie previously, Collins held out 131-B and slowly approached Alastor. The closer he got the louder and more distressed the entity became, again attempting to back away despite being held in Collins’ hands. Resetting, he did the experiment with Husk as well, receiving the same response once more. “Curious, but-” Resetting one final time, Collins repeated the test with Charlie. He got closer and closer until he held 131-B mere centimeters away from Charlie all the while it remained completely silent and calm. If anything it almost seemed infatuated with her, staring at Charlie and appearing almost mesmerized. “How strange. Phyllis, please note that SCP-131-B and, presumably, 131-A react toward SCP-666-2 and -3 entities as expected with hostile entities, however are completely docile with SCP-666-5-CM and only 5-CM. More testing is required, with a broader range of subjects.”
“Care to explain what any of this means, Doc?” Vaggie asked, having grown impatient with Collins simply running around and shoving a one-eyed yellow teardrop in everyone’s face.
“Oh certainly,” Collins agreed. “SCP-131-A and B have a natural inclination to sense danger, even when a threat isn’t actively directed toward them. In those cases, the entities will begin making a high pitched babbling sound while attempting to flee or warn others of the nearby danger. Sometimes they even have countermeasures of their own, however it’s very situational and rare.”
“So they saw Vaggie, Husk and Al as a threat?” Charlie asked in confirmation, “But they didn’t do that with me, so what, they saw me as a friend?”
“Exactly, which they ordinarily only do with-”
“RATS!” A high pitched voice yelled suddenly from elsewhere in the hotel. Bursting into the room, SCP-131-A rushed into the main hall from an adjacent room, speeding along at what appeared to be near its max velocity. Soon after it came Nifty, wildly swinging a broom in the air. Despite her short stature she managed to keep a decent pace with the entity, her sheer hyperness making up for it as she only lagged behind slightly. “Charlie! We’ve got RATS in the hotel!”
“Goddamnit. Stop her!” Collins shouted, frustrated that in his own fascination which caused him to lose track of 131-A.
Ward and Vaggie were the first to jump to action, both running to get in the way of Nifty’s path toward 131-A.
Vaggie raced up to catch the small Demon, running at an almost perfectly perpendicular angle to Nifty and 131-A. However the entity and Nifty were much faster than she was. Reaching the small Demon’s path at roughly the same time, Vaggie leapt down to try and catch the Demon only to be mere moments too late, brushing the edge of Nifty’s skirt with the tips of her fingers before she was out of reach. Quickly picking herself off the floor however, Vaggie gave chase after them, though wasn’t able to make up the distance to catch them.
Ward, having a slight head-start, was already positioned in the path of the two entities. 131-A passed between her legs, as she was face to face with Nifty rapidly charging toward her. Once the Demon was within a few feet, she knelt down, akin to a hockey goalie, to prevent Nifty from using the same trick. However she underestimated the swiftness of the small Demon. As Nifty approached she moved to the side of the soldier, jumping around her and over a leg that was sticking out. Realizing that the Demon had out-maneuvered her, Ward scrambled around and get at her. Falling over in the process, she just barely managed to hook onto the head of the broom that Nifty had reared above her head. Holding on tightly, Nifty was stopped in her tracks, not having the body mass or strength to break the soldier’s grasp on the broom.
“Hey!” She yelped, proceeding to tug and pull, attempting to free the broom. “Let go! Give that back!”
“No-” Ward huffed as she rose to her feet, “They’re valuable assets.”
Nifty’s smile grew devilish, extending to a point that didn’t seem physically possible. “They are rats, and I will not have rats in this hotel.” She stated, drawing a sewing needle from within her apron.
“NIFTY!” Vaggie yelled, having caught up to them, she barged past Ward and confronted Nifty, towering over her as she talked down to the small Demon. “What were you doing?” She demanded, as Nifty did little more than pace in place like a child trying to look as innocent as possible. “We talked about this, you can’t attack guests simply for being ‘unclean’.”
“But they were rummaging around like rats.” She argued.
“They are not rats.” Vaggie corrected, “They were brought by Dr. Collins, they are valuable to him, and you can’t attack them.” She sighed, exasperated as if this was a regular occurrence. “Nifty, go clean in a different part of the hotel while everything is going on down here. You can’t be down here if you’re going to attack our guests.”
“But Miss Vaggie-” Nifty attempted to argue.
“GO!” Vaggie demanded, pointing sharply across the hall, as Nifty somberly complied and left. She sighed once again, before turning and proceeding back toward the others. “Sorry about that.” She mentioned to Ward as she passed by.
“Ah it’s nothing,” Ward reassured, “we’ve gone through weirder by this point.”
“That seems like a good place to end this line of testing.” Collins mentioned, drawing a close on his first experiment. SCP-131-A and B were placed back within the cat-crate and placed off to the side, close to the members of MTF Xi-1 to ensure there were more eyes on them and prevent any further incidents involving them. “Xi-1-2 please double check the recording equipment, Phyllis begins a new log, and please have Xi-1-4 on standby.” He gave them all a couple seconds to get ready, and for Françoi to join them. “Bring in the next subject.”
Opening with a slight thud, the hotel’s front doors swung apart as a couple more Xi-1 soldiers entered, escorting an additional entity. Appearing to a proportionally sized human, the entity was covered in thick, leathery, black robes that covered him head to toe. There was the clinking of metal audible through the hall, as the entity had shackles, handcuffs, and a collar attached to a pole which one of the Xi-1 members was using to guide the entity inside. Most notably of all, the entity’s face was covered by a bone-white mask that resembled the beak of a bird, while two piercing grey eyes were visible through a pair of holes in the mask.
“Qu'est-ce que c'est- pourquoi ai-je été amené ici? Cet endroit... il est partout.” The entity said to the room, speaking in a hollow and distant voice as if he were speaking from the bottom of a well.
Collins was paying particularly close attention to Alastor sitting at the far end of the hall, noticing how his ears twitched while the entity spoke and how he slightly peeked over his shoulder at them. Just as hoped . “Good to see you again SCP-049,” Collins greeted as he turned his attention toward the entity, “I hope your transportation here didn’t prove too uncomfortable.”
“Absurdité, I do not recall speaking to you, Doctor. We have not met before.” 049 stated bluntly, gazing around the room at the other entities gathered around.
“Not directly, no.” Collins confirmed, “However, I worked heavily on your case during my early days in the Foundation, they were- quite something.” Collins reminisced.
“So… who’s this?” Charlie asked, gesturing toward 049.
“Right,” Collins reacted, veering back on track. “Charlie, Vaggie, this is SCP-049. He is of an unknown origin, but is representative of a renaissance plague doctor and likely originates from the same time period. 049 is obsessed with something he simply refers to as the ‘pestilence’-“
“It is a most severe plague to which I am trying to find a cure.” 049 interrupted.
“What the pestilence is, however, is unknown.” Collins continued, “Which leads me into my first experiment: 049 do you sense any of the pestilence present here and how does it compare to what you sense back on Earth?”
“Oh there is great amounts of the pestilence down here, it is virtually everywhere. It is in far, far greater quantities than it was previously.” For the first time, 049 stared at Collins directly, sending a chill down the researcher’s spine as the entity's cold grey eyes pierced through him. “If we are to contain this, Herr Doktor, then you must unleash me and allow me to begin my work.”
“Is that something we should be concerned about?” Charlie asked, as 049 continued his tirade.
“See! She speaks logic, it is something to be greatly concerned about. The pestilence, the great dying, it will consume us all if you don’t allow me to put a stop to it.”
“Hardly, 049 has claimed the pestilence to be even within the most sterile of foundation facilities, he has failed to even do much as describe the pestilence, and the only danger to people supposedly infected by this ‘pestilence’ appears to be him, due to his fondness of dissection.” Collins explained, noting that Charlie and Vaggie visibly tensed slightly. Good , the more they understood how important the Foundation’s work is, the better. “Thank you for that, 049.”
“Eh bien, n'êtes-vous pas autre chose?” Alastor appeared, standing dangerously close to 049, speaking in French as Collins could do nothing but gawk. “Je suis Alastor, et qui pourriez-vous être mon ami masqué?”
“Nom? Je n'en ai pas, bien qu'ils m'appellent zéro quatre neuf.” 049 responded, with everything going exactly as hoped, and Collins didn’t even have to prompt it.
“Xi-1-4, please translate.” He requested as Françoi stepped up beside him.
“They were just introducing themselves, Doctor.”
Alastor and SCP-049 continued to talk in French about various topics, with Françoi relaying everything to Dr. Collins.
“They’re talking about their interests. The entity is reinforcing his position as the cure. The red one is annoyed by that and wishes to discuss something else.” Françoi paused, as there was a sudden break in Alastor and 049’s conversation, with the former laughing uproariously, while the latter seemed more confused. Françoi chuckled lightly before continuing, “the red one told a joke.”
“What kind of joke?” Collins asked.
“A knock knock joke.”
“Of course he did.”
Françoi’s head seemed to snap around as the tone of conversation suddenly picked up again. “They- um, they’re discussion dissections. Cutting techniques and- seasoning?” Françoi stated. “The entity is disgusted. The other one is explaining a detailed recipe to prepare human kidneys and various other organs.” There was an apparent disturbance in Françoi’s tone as he hesitated to continue translating. “Now they’re, um-“
Before Françoi could continue any further, something else happened. Alastor suddenly reached forward, taking one of 049’s hands with both of his, despite the handcuffs, and gave it a brisk shake. 049 appeared slightly stunned, Dr. Collins was in complete disbelief, to Alastor it seemed nothing happened. “Wait, stop.” Collins called, trying to process what just happened, “do that again.”
“What?” Alastor asked, not understanding what was so significant about his handshake, “you want me to shake his hand again?” Collins just nodded, watching closely as he encouraged Alastor to do it again. “Alright- then.” Repeating his motion almost identically, shaking 049’s hand, as little else happened.
“Phyllis, are you seeing this?” He asked, turning toward his assistant, who’d stopped writing and was in a similar state of disbelief. “This proves my- this is Absolutely incredible.”
“What’s so special about a hand shake?” Alastor asked.
“All I can say is that 049 can induce some intense biological effects of individuals who he comes in contact with, the rest is classified.” Collins explained as vaguely as he could while still answering the question. Considering the promos he just made to Charlie, it seemed unwise to admit that he actively tested 049’s ‘touch’ which instantly killed people. “But you were completely unaffected by it. Incredible, 049’s touch doesn’t affect SCP-666-2 or -3 entities.” His hypothesis was that the touch wouldn’t kill 666-2 and -3 entities, due to them already being dead. There was still the matter of -1, 4 and 5 entities, which he was less confident about since they were all hellborn, and hadn’t previously died. However that could all be tested at a later time.
With all the tests involving him having concluded, SCP-049 was dismissed as he was escorted back outside and into the containment vehicle. Meanwhile the next test was busy being set up, Françoi was dismissed, Phyllis began a new log entry, and Ward again checked the recording equipment. Meanwhile Collins prepared himself for the next experiment, one that would be hard to explain.
“Lastly we need to test a device,” Collins began, “I’m going to be perfectly honest with you, I can’t tell you anything about it. It’s one of the Foundation’s best kept secrets and 100% classified for outsiders. Hence it will not be brought in but activated externally. There will be no side effects, it will not harm any of you. But I can’t tell you about it, I won’t answer any questions about it, I just ask for your cooperation.”
Again insecurity plastered the faces of all those involved, except Alastor who simply smiled broadly as ways. “Doctor, I’m not sure about this, I already wasn’t too pleased with the last one, who was already a bit too dangerous for my liking.”
“Well, fortunately I was going to ask Alastor to be our test subject in this case.” Collins stated, as all eyes were drawn toward the brightly dressed deer.
“Well, I pride myself as being a performer, no reason I can’t perform for your little test as well.” He stated, stepping forward.
“Wait, Al, you’re ok with this?” Charlie asked.
“Sure, why not? After all, it might prove entertaining. The other tests so far certainly have.”
“Very well then.” Collins agreed, stepping up beside Alastor, “I understand that you can teleport in a form. All I need you to do, is to teleport from where you are now to over there-“ he pointed at the spot on the floor just a couple feet in front of Alastor, “when I say so. Understood?”
“Crystally.”
“Perfect.” Collins clicked on and leaned into the microphone inside of his helmet, “Begin, start at a signal ignition and the base predetermined settings.”
“Affirmative, single ignition, base settings.” His radio buzzed back.
For a few seconds everyone waited in silence. Despite what Collins made his mystery device out to be, it certainly wasn’t very dramatic. If anything the silence seemed to unnerve Charlie and Vaggie more, while Alastor hardly even reacted.
Collins felt the microphone in his helmet buzz, nothing was said but he knew it meant they were ready. “Alright, let’s begin. Alastor, please teleport to the designated location.”
As Collins requested, Alastor disappeared in a light cloud of black smoke, before reappearing just as quickly just a couple feet further forward. “Was something supposed to happen?” He asked.
Collins switched on his radio, “Test failure. Maintain single ignition and transition to modified system settings Alpha.” He ordered. “Alastor, please reset.”
“Understood, single ignition, Alpha settings.” His radio barked back.
A few seconds later everything was in place once again, as Collins microphone buzzed once again. “Alastor, please proceed.” He complied immediately, disappearing in smoke and reappearing a few feet forward. “This is going to be a long one, isn’t it?” Collins groaned, as the reality of the situation set in.
Over a dozen variations in the testing and yet it seemed nothing had changed, no matter what they changed Alastor was always able to teleport. No matter the power level of the device settings, nothing could stop him. Collins even left the hotel a few times to go make changes manually and they still didn’t change the results. However, he knew it wasn’t impossible, though the Grimoire is too powerful to be stopped, Stolas was when he initially attempted to teleport into Site-59 to rescue Blitz. Yet within Hell the technology just seemed to fail. It didn’t make any sense .
Too focused on trying to solve his dilemma, Collins didn’t even notice as another figure entered the room. Repeating the test one final time, Collins gave the order, and disappointingly Alastor disappeared and reappeared without any issue.
“You’re trying to prevent him from using his powers, aren’t you?” A nasally tone said from behind Collins, he turned to be met with a rather short Demon he hadn’t seen before. A blue fish-like entity, with fins sticking off its head, wearing a long black button-up and safety glasses, most distinctively the entity had a glowing lure, similar to that of an angler fish, protruding from and arching over its head. “It’s not working because you’re trying to manipulate a force that doesn’t exist.” The entity stated, talking to the room more than to Collins, as it was too preoccupied with what looked like blue-prints for some sort of machine. Not stopping to address them in conversation, rather just blabbering on as he walked the straight path.
Collins grew suspicious, he was aware that his objective was fairly obvious by now, however there was no way that any of the entities knew of the reality anchors he was using to accomplish it. “Excuse me?”
Again the figure didn’t even look at Collins, as it just kept walking. “You ever thought to consider that quantum-realities change between dimensions?”
“Sorry, Doctor, that’s Baxter. Don’t let him bother you, he’s new and not much of a people-person.” Charlie reassured, latching onto the rudeness of the entity rather than the subject of which he spoke.
For Collins it was a smoking gun, “Don’t let him leave.” He ordered, as a pair of MTF Xi-1 soldiers stepped in the way of the entity and forced him to stop. Even then, Baxter just turned and attempted to walk around the soldiers, forcing them to move in his way again, and again as Baxter attempted to go around them a second time. Finally Collins approached, snatching the blue-print from the Demon’s hand, catching his attention and preventing him from trying it again. “How the hell do you know any of that?”
“Oh, I love being correct.” Baxter mentioned, “A lucky guess really, the most logical of a dozen possible solutions.”
“And look where your guess landed you.” Collins mentioned, gesturing toward the two soldiers towering over the short demon.
“Oh, I just find it fascinating that you guys are working towards it, I mean it makes sense really.” Baxter continued, launching into a ramble on exactly why he thinks that they’re there. “Putting it into perspective, you Humans fall pretty far down the triangle, and these little toys of yours would even the playing field, making magic useless.” Baxter sighed, “If it works the way I think it does then it obviously wouldn’t work down here, the magnification of localized atmospheric quantum-realistic energy is practically worthless with the equipment you’re using.”
Collins took a moment to do all the math behind everything Baxter just said, only to realize that most of it checked out. “Uh-huh, and you figured all of this out from a mere guess?”
“Of course not, I’ve been looking into the exact same thing. All the powerful Demons down here use their magic as a crutch, it’s the only reason they’re in power. Oh, and I would just love to tear those crutches from underneath them, and watch them fall and fall into the pit of obscurity, as they finally live down among the scum, where they belong.” Baxter monologued, gradually directing his tone from Collins to be more inward and personal narrative.
“So, you have a solution?” Collins asked, further probing into the demon’s mind, trying to find if the Demon may be an asset.
“Yes, well no, I mean I could.” Baxter answered contradictorily, “I’ve been drawing up plans for a while but I don’t have the equipment to make a stable prototype, so I haven’t been able to test it nor work out any kinks in the design. Not to mention I’ve drawn up a dozen different designs over the years.”
“Give me a general consensus on how you solved the problem.” Collins requested.
“Basically, the idea is to have a transceiver that can absorb or adapt or transmit the quantum-realistic energy from one localization and export it within a different localization. Then there’d need to be some way to contain the transmission and prevent it from dissipating into the atmosphere. I was thinking electro-magnetization combined with particle fuzing, however I haven't worked all that out yet. Regardless, we’d then have a localization of one area’s energy within a different one. Within that localization then we could, theoretically, use your reality stabilization technology to effectively force the realization of the imported localization into the general area, which would effectively make magic mute.”
Collins stared at the Demon for a while, “Look, I know I’m supposed to be the smart scientist, but my specialty was never crypto-realistic-manipulation or temporal anomalies, so I’m gonna need you to slow down a bit.”
Baxter sighed, “Alright fine; we can create a device that can export or at least mimic a separate reality to our own. Once we figure out how to contain that exported reality, we can create a bubble which reality stabilization could magnify and forcefully expel the local reality from that bubble. Thus magic would be useless in those bubbles.” He re-explained.
“Huh, clever, I’d still want all that to be run through Temporal Anomalies first though.” Collins mentioned, caution first as always. “However, I do have a proposal for you Mr. Baxter. It’s clear that you have a lot of potential, so I would like to give you the opportunity to join the SCP Foundation. I guarantee you that any resources you require you will have, alongside any necessary support the Foundation could offer.”
“I’m not saying that I would, but just out of curiosity, what would happen if I declined?” Baxter asked, snatching the blueprint back from Dr. Collins.
“Since you clearly know a significant amount about Foundation classified material, you would be immediately detained and taken into custody. You would see out the rest of your days in a cell, and at most would be requested to give advice as we complete your research for you.”
Baxter took half a second to answer, “Doctor, I accept your proposal.”
“Good choice.” Collins commented, letting the two soldiers escort Baxter outside and to the vehicles. Turning on his radio Collins spoke into it; “Pack up gentlemen, we’re done here. Also note that we have a guest joining us on the return.”
“You’re leaving, Doctor?” Charlie asked from behind him, as Collins suddenly turned to look at her. “Where are you taking Baxter?” She asked, keeping a stern tone and expression.
“He’s proven to have valuable skills and has decided to voluntarily join the SCP foundation.” Collins explained, as Charlie’s face instantly morphed into shock, seemingly trying to form some sort of response that fell flat. “I greatly appreciate your cooperation today, princess, I’ll begin working on the material request’s for you right away.” Collins added, as he turned and began walking toward the exit. “Till next time, Princess.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It had been quite a day, and an interview at the end of it was the last thing he wanted. However the processing for SCP-666-2-P had concluded and his interview had been scheduled. Hence Collins now found himself in one of the embassy’s makeshift interrogation chambers talking to a demonic snake. Unlike most interviews like this though, he wasn’t talking to some great mastermind, chaotic entity, or anything dangerous at all really, as the snake was in reality a fumbling buffoon.
“Ok… let me get this straight, you claim to have died in the late 19th century, you’re an inventor, you war over territory with these rivals of yours, and you gave a whole breakdown on why you won’t tell me how the ‘egg boys’ are made.” Collin recapped, as pentious stared at him with a blank expression. “So, how does any of that relate to the very simple question of why you attacked Foundation territory?”
“Oh,” Pentious reacted, “I just thought it would provide some useful context to my glorious takeover.”
“What takeover?” Collins asked, sick of going through this same loop for the last hour. “The territory you control doesn’t even border Foundation territory, it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Ah, well, you just don’t see the genius in my very complicated plan for total domination over the city.” He explained dramatically, “Once I conquered a part of the city center, my territorial expansion would increase tenfold as I worked my way out.”
“What?”
“You’re not buying any of this are you?” Pentious asked, as his face displayed a strange innocence on it.
“No…”
“Ugh, alright.” Pentious confessed, now transitioning to an even more somber tone. “A warlord doesn’t gain respect by controlling the outskirts of the city but by controlling the center. The problem is that all the powerful demons that I can’t- well, are harder for me to beat. But when you entered the scene, it seemed like such a great opportunity, just a bunch of humans, no magic, and a nice piece of the city center would be mine. But well…”
The door to the interrogation room opened as the front desk secretary peeked inside, he was accompanied by a member of MTF Xi-1. He waved his hand to beckon Dr. Collins over.
“I need to step out for a minute, I’ll be back soon.” He rose from his seat and approached the exit, with the secretary and soldier stepping back to let Collins through as he shut the door behind him. “Hey, Howard, right?” He asked the secretary.
“Hunter, sir.” They responded simply.
“Right, sorry, anyways what’s wrong?”
“We have a situation at the front desk, Doctor, they insisted on speaking with you.” Hunter explained as he began leading Collins down the halls and back to the front desk.
“Who in Hell’s coming in this late anyway?” After the fiasco that was this morning, followed by the prince, and then the hotel, it was almost 9pm by the time they were back at the embassy. A short break followed by his ongoing interview with SCP-666-2-P and it was almost 11:30 by now. Leaving the embassy largely empty, as most of the staff retired to their bunks or returned to Earth, the remaining staff being the night guards and a rotation of essential personnel, which would ordinarily not include Collins.
“Alright, what is the-” Collins stopped suddenly, arriving just beside the front desk, where he was met with a tall slender, fuzzy, white demon, dressed in a pink and white suit. “Angel Dust?” Beside him was a woman closer to average height, with bleached-white skin and a single eye, she wore tattered clothes and had wild blond hair. “What’s going on?”
“Took you guys long enough.” The woman stated, her arms crossed, being clearly displeased at having to deal with them.
“Hey Doc.” Angel greeted.
“Who’s she?” Collins asked, pointing toward the woman.
“Name’s Cherri Bomb,” She answered, “we’re here for egglord.”
“Right,” Collins turned towards the secretary, “Hunter, please give Miss Bomb an entry form.” He complied, swiftly producing the documentation which he placed on the counter in front of the Demon alongside a pen.
“The fuck’s this shit?” She reacted, frowning down at the form.
“We’re trying to build a database of people down here, so everyone that enters the embassy for the first time is required to fill out that form so that we can get a basic idea of who we’re dealing with.” Collins explained.
“Hold on,” Angel cautioned, “Do I need to fill out one of those too?” He asked.
“No, since I did interviews with you and everyone else at the hotel, I filled out the forms and made profiles for all of you already.”
“Goddammit.” Cherri cursed, as she began writing on the sheet she’d been given.
“So, what’s going on? Why are you two in so late?” Collins asked.
“Oh well you see, I’s been working for the last couple hours and got on break a couple minutes ago. It’s when Cherri called and said she ain’t seen Penn around anywhere, they’s were supposed to duel tonight. After searching a bit we found that you had ‘em.” He explained.
“So… you’re here to request custody of him?” Collins asked.
“Well, first Cherri wanted to just bust ‘im out, but after we’s saw all the guards, it wasn’t a great idea anymore. But I’d figured we could talk to you and get ‘im released.” Angle explained, leaning down heavily on the counter to get closer to eye level with Collins.
“How’s egglord doing anyway?” Cherri asked, briefly stopping with the form to look up at Collins.
“He’s fine, uninjured. He attacked the embassy this morning, with his little army, but our security was able to deal with it.” He looked back to the secretary again, “Hunter, pull me SCP-666-2-P’s file please. Rolling away in his chair, the secretary dug through a couple filing cabinets for a minute, before rolling back over with the Snake’s file. Collins took it and began to thumb through and skim the information within. “I am a bit surprised though. From what I understand, aren’t you two supposed to be rivals, so why are you here to bail him out?”
“It’s- complicated.” Charri responded simply, sliding the form and pen across the counter. “So, can we take him?”
“Give me one-” Collins was still looking through the document as he finally found the page he needed, “Alright here we are let’s- Ok.” Collins looked up from the file and Angle and Cherri. “He can unfortunately not be released today. But his ‘attack’, if you can even call it that, wasn’t too big of a deal, so- Provided there is no further investigation nor inquiry needed, he will probably be able to be released once everything is filed away. So you may return either tomorrow or the day thereafter and he will be placed into your custody, Ms. Bomb.”
“That’s it?” Cherri asked, “No that’s bullshit, why can’t I get him out now?”
“Because he is still undergoing his interview, and we need to keep him until his files are finalized and filed, meaning we have no more need of him.” Collins explained, shutting the folder as he handed it back to the secretary. “I’ve already shortened his sentence significantly, really I’m supposed to keep him in custody for at least a week regardless of when his files were complete.”
“That’s such bullshit, I hate paperwork.” Cherri reacted, beginning to move toward the door, “Thanks for the help Angi, I’ll come back for him tomorrow.”
“A friendly word of advice,” Collins cautioned, “I understand that this isn’t what you wanted, but please don’t go through with your initial plan, It’s just not something I want to deal with tonight.” Cherri held up a middle finger over her shoulder, keeping it pointed toward Collins as she exited the building.
“Don’t worry she won’t, I’ll make sure she doesn’t.” Angel reassured, straightening his back out as he followed after Cherri toward the exit. “Hey, thanks Doc, have a good one.” He called, as he left the building right after.
“Yea, thanks.” Collins mumbled beneath his breath.
“Um, Doctor, you might want to see this.” Hunter stated, holding Cherri Bomb’s form out to him.
He took it, only to find that none of the information had been filled in and had rather been doodled over with various small drawings of skulls, explosions, bombs, fireworks, and middle fingers. The only properly filled out piece of info being her name at the top right corner of the page. “It’s fine, I’ll write it up for her.” Collins mentioned, taking the form with him as he began the return to the interrogation room, where Sir Pentious was still waiting.
Notes:
So how was it?
Lot’s of new stuff was introduced so I hope everyone enjoyed it.
The Art is also mine, I've had it on my computer for a while and just needed a good chapter to include it in.
In case anyone hasn't seen it, there's also a new chapter on the Redacted Files about the Blitzo & Co's return to Hell.
I Hope that everyone had a nice holiday and I wish everyone a happy new year.
Otherwise if you have feedback or improvements then I’d be glad to hear it, otherwise nice words are also appreciated.
Thank you for reading.
Chapter 13: Pest
Summary:
A boring day, where a council of Demonic overlords was meant to be the most exciting part of the, is uprooted as major forces begin to collide.
Notes:
This chapter was 37 pages by the time I was done with it… I really need to cut some of these down.
Anyway, sorry for the long wait, since Christmas my workload has drastically increased hence my writing time has decreased. I'm still trying to maintain a daily writing schedule, but it’s going to get sporadic.
The next chapters will be shorter and hopefully won’t take three months to complete.
Regardless, this chapter introduces many things, so without further ado
I hope you enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 13: Pest
Somehow the overlord council meeting, that was supposed to be ‘classified’, had become the talk of the town. At least among those who were cleared to know about it. A surprisingly long list as it turns out, as any personnel stationed within SCP-666, who knew about the overlords, knew about the meeting, alongside higher ranking researchers on Earth, especially within Site-59. It had become such an ordeal that most of Collins’ schedule had been cleared for the day. Though why the Foundation still mandated his early morning presence was anyone’s guess.
Those who knew had been wishing him luck since yesterday and had since stepped up their sentiment. Sipping from his coffee as drearily wandered Site-59’s halls, seemingly every member of his staff, and anyone else that knew, stopped him to comment about the conference. Though the sentiments were nice, he hardly needed everyone to tell him good luck whenever he passed them. Then again, it wasn’t like they were really interfering with anything. He’d be meeting with the negotiator later in the evening before traveling to the Human embassy, from there to the conference, advising the negotiator, before writing everything up. That would be his day.
Although he had to admit that there was some excitement about being one of the few Humans involved in something this monumental.
His senses distracted by the bitter hot taste of coffee coursing its way into his system, finally starting to wake him, while his mind was preoccupied by his prospects that awaited him later in the day. Collins didn’t even notice as a voice called to him from down the hall. Nor did he notice when it sounded a second time. In fact it was only after the figure, a younger woman in a lab-coat, ran in front of him that he took notice, barely avoiding bumping into her.
“Sorry, I- Phyllis?” Collins groggily asked, blinking several times to ensure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.
“Yes, sir.” She confirmed, “I called several times but you weren’t responding.”
“Right, sorry my mind hasn’t fully woken up yet.” Collins rubbed his eyes, trying to rejuvenate them somewhat in some way, before he continued along his original path, with Phyllis at his side.
“Long night, sir?” She asked.
“Something like that,” Collins confirmed, “I ended up conducting my interview with SCP-666-2-P and was greeted by some late-night visitors.” He explained, reminiscing on the previous night’s events. “How’s your morning been?”
“Fine, sir, I actually took the liberty of looking over the DNA samples you collected from the hotel’s residents.” Phyllis mentioned, “The results came in from the labs yesterday evening-”
“And you had the necessary clearance to look over those?” Collins asked, stopping suddenly as he looked at Phyllis with a rhetorical smirk. Though his message didn’t quite seem to come through, as Phyllis visibly froze and almost turned white. “Relax-” He reassured, “If I taught you anything, as my assistant, at least it was to not take Foundation protocol too strictly.” He continued on as Phyllis seemed to take his advice and calm herself, “So, the boys down in DNA analysis finally got off their asses and tested the samples I sent them over a month ago. Find anything interesting?”
“Well… I suppose you best see for yourself.” She stated, holding out the file in Collins direction.
Taking the file, there was nothing of any particular interest at first glance. Being laid out in a standard format, with the primary eye-catching element being two large charts comparing genetic sequencing. Though the ‘comparison’ was hardly the right term, as the two looked near identical. Their labeling however, would suggest anything but. One being labeled: Entity 2-AD, SCP-666. While the other read: Subject A213876 Ret. To which Dr. Collins’ tired gaze suddenly seemed to disappear, as he seemed to read over the data a dozen times in mere seconds. “That is absolutely fascinating-” Almost at a loss for words, Collins took a couple seconds to formulate his course of action, “They’ve been traced?”
“Yes-” Phyllis confirmed, “local, we should be able to get her within a couple hours.”
“Reading minds now?” Collins asked, as the orders he was considering giving were already in place.
Phyllis merely shrugged, “Though we don’t have any higher level approval, sir.” she cautioned.
“Oh well, Wilcox knows we get things done, I’m sure he won’t mind getting results over requests.” Collins stated, “Besides, my orders carry enough weight now to actually get agents into action.” Turning around, Collins proceeded back down the opposite direction, toward his offices within Site-59. “I’m shuffling my schedule around, I’ll get agents moving on our subject and we can begin testing around noon. I’ll meet with the negotiator in Hell just before the conference, Phyllis, please send a runner to forward that to the embassy.” It was archaic really, though they’d gotten local signals to be compatible with Foundation equipment, getting a message from Earth to Hell proved to be trickier. Thus they resorted to sending curriers through the portals to relay orders.
The day just got much more interesting.
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By now the route from the Embassy to the Hazbin Hotel has become practically second nature, as the journey to and fro seemed shorter every time. Collins jumped down from the MRAP, his boots thudding against the ground as the rest of Mjolnir-3 dismounted simultaneously. They raced off to secure the perimeter, as was protocol, while Collins waited patiently for his guest. Cautiously inching forward a shorter woman, dressed in the same protective suit as he and Phyllis were. Collins held out his hand for the woman to take as he helped her down from the tall vehicle.
“Thank you, Doctor. Been a while since I’ve done anything like this.”
“It’s nothing, agent, I appreciate that you were able to come on such short notice at all.” Collins replied, guiding her toward the hotel.
“You’re not going to give me a hand, Doctor?” Phyllis called, standing at the doorway edge of the same MRAP.
“You’re younger than me, Phyllis, you should be the one helping me out of the car.” Collins quipped back, as he continued toward the door.
Phyllis caught up to them, as the MTFs formed up around them, as Collins led them through.
Though he was supposed to, the sudden and unplanned nature of his experiment meant he hadn’t called ahead of time, as much being obvious as the team entered a completely empty main hall; apart from Husk, who was sleeping at the bar, because of course he was.
“Quite the welcoming, Doc.” Ward mentioned, bringing the rest of the squad inside.
“Princess!” Collins yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound. Though all he heard in response was his own echoe bouncing off the walls. Alongside a slight groan, as Husk appeared to stir from his sleep and sit up slightly. “Husk, where is everyone?” Collins asked as he approached the cat.
Husk squinted at the Humans, seemingly Barely conscious as he tried to formulate a sentence that initially came out as vague mumbled. “…is ugh… is you-v again.” He nuzzled back into his arms on the counter, trying to get comfortable to go back to sleep. Collins tapped him and shook him back awake. “Wha-s, I wasn’t~ what!”
“Where is everyone?” Collins asked, patiently.
“Oh, they’re um, in there-“ Husk pointed to a large pair of double doors on the side of the room. “I think-“ he was already sagging back down into his sleeping position again, “they um, found one of your guys or something.” He placed his head back down on the counter as he mumbled. “Been busy with him.”
“One of our-“ Collins repeated.
“Has anyone else ever been sent to the hotel?” Phyllis asked.
“No… Husk what’d-?” Collins began though was met with a loud snore coming from the cat. “Never mind then.” Collins turned toward the team, “Agent, I’m going to request that you stay back for now, five stay with her and make sure no other surprises come our way. Sergeant, come with me.” Collins ordered, as he began to lead the soldiers toward the door Husk had pointed to earlier.
Collins grasped the two door handles, Ward and the rest of Mjolnir-3 stacking up on either side of him, before rotating the two handles down and shoving the doors open. Before him now was a large dining hall, a long wooden table running the length of the room, with roughly a dozen chairs on either side. Otherwise the room was thematically identical to the rest of the hotel, red wallpaper, a few large windows alongside some paintings scattered around the walls. Considering the hotel, the room was nothing surprising.
What was however were the mildly surprised faces of Charlie and Vaggie, not to mention the almost petrified face of a middle aged human male situated before them. Not dressed in the usual orange prison uniform, though not in Foundation clothes either, he wore a very casual hoodie and jeans. “Ugh, this is really something I don’t want to deal with today.” Collins grumbled, as the soldiers advanced around him and into the room.
“Doctor!” Charlie reacted, greeting him with a smile, suddenly rising from her seat as she darted towards them, “I didn’t know you were coming over today. We found-“
“Sergeant, if the D-class runs, shoot him.” Collins ordered coldly, as Ward moved around to get an angle on the human who seemed ready to burst into a sprint at any moment
Charlie’s smile quickly dropped, stopping dead in her tracks, “D-Doctor?”
“If this is the other D-class we sent down here, then What does that say for the ones we sent to the other rings?” Phyllis pondered.
“I suppose we’ll find out once we get there,” Collins answered, “if they’re still alive that is.”
“W-what’s going on?” Charlie asked, though apparently too quietly as no one acknowledged her.
“Is it even possible for them to survive down here without protective equipment?” Phyllis inquired once again, as the former D-class didn’t wear nor did he have access to the Foundation FPS suits.
“Unknown-“ Collins replied briskly, “though we never actually established a limit to when tissue would begin to shut down, only a baseline for when damage would occur. Theoretically yes, provided proper treatment is administered regularly, however we don’t even know-“
“Will you just listen to me!” Charlie yelled, being thoroughly fed up with being ignored for the sake of scientific theory. She marched up sternly, to within just centimeters of Collins before starting over, “Who is he, why are you pointing guns at him, and what is a D-class?”
“I really hope it’s you-know-what class.” A nasally voice called from behind them. Collins turned, as the tall spider leaned against the bar behind them, facing the group, as he was apparently enjoying the argument. “Ya know, like dick - class.” Angel Dust clarified, to no response, “geeze, great audience. Ah whateva’, none a’ you’s understand my comedic genius.”
“Angel Dust, please stick around, will you? I need you for my experiment.” Collins requested.
“Eh hold up now,” Angel reacted, suddenly turning far more serious, “I can’t ‘stick around’, I’s gotta head out, got work to do.”
“Wait, what if-“ Collins began, though was interrupted by a sharp grunt from Charlie, clearly wanting him to return to the situation at hand. “Just give me five minutes to settle this, and I’ll get to you.” With Angel staying put, for now, Collins turned back to Charlie. “Princess, please, it’s all very complicated and I would be faster if you could just hand him over to me.”
“That's fine, I have time.” Charlie stated, pulling out a seat beside her as she patiently sat and waited for Collins to explain.
“Yes, but we don’t.”
“Then you better start explaining.” She stated, a sly smirk coming across her face.
“When did you… ugh fine.” Collins relented, “He-“ Collins gesture toward the human, “is what we refer to as a D-class, they are test subjects and disposable staff which are used in experiments involving all kinds of deadly entities. The Foundation receives them from world governments, all death-row inmates, who’ve committed god-knows-what.”
“Bullshit! I never committed a crime, last thing I remember is waking up in your freak’s laboratory.” The D-class countered, growing antsy as he jumped from his seat.
“Sit down and shut-up!” Ward barked, moving around the table, closer to him, while keeping her rifle firmly pointed at the D-class.
“So what they’re human lab-rats?” Vaggie asked, visible disgust on her face.
“But that’s horrible!” Charlie reacted, more sharply than her girlfriend, “How could you do something like that to another person, even if they’ve done something bad.”
“Charlie, please try and keep an open mind.” Collins prefaced, “‘Bad’ doesn’t even begin to describe what these people have done. They’ve committed such heinous crimes that their own governments wished them dead. The last good thing they could possibly do with their lives is being donated to science, and help us protect humanity. The government will get its corpse, however it can at least serve us first.” Collins swallowed hard, in keeping with his promise he was being as truthful to Charlie as he could be, however for the next per that wasn’t an option. “However we realize that isn’t particularly great motivation, hence the Foundation will release and pardon them of their crimes after a month of service. The odds of survival are unlikely, but entirely plausible.” That was the official story, and it was the best Collins would be able to do.
“No, that bullshit!” The D-class yelled again, taking a step back, “I’m not going back to-“ stopping, he coughed violently into his hands for a solid minute, producing a handful of small droplets of putrid almost black blood, his voice turning to a wheeze when he continued, “You’re trying to kill us, that’s all you do.”
Collins leaned over, looking past Charlie and at the D-class, “You don’t sound too good, it’s almost like the atmosphere down here isn’t particularly suited to Humans.”
“Fuck you!” the D-class yelled back, “I’ll manage myself.”
“Unlikely.”
“Why is he even down here then?” Charlie demanded, pulling Collins back to her, “What ‘experiment were you putting him through?”
“Great, I'm just giving out classified information like it’s candy now.” Collins huffed, “When we first discovered how to make portals, we sent through D-classes first. We had no idea if there was anything dangerous on the other side, so we didn’t want to risk actually valuable personnel. We tried with drones and cameras but those all lost connection. Some of the D-classes didn’t return, guess we now figured out why, it was only then that my team came through.” Collins explained, as Charlie clearly grew ever more conflicted, and unsure of the situation.
“W-what did they do to deserve this?” Charlie asked, “I want to know exactly, I’m not going to hand them over just because of some vague- ‘bad stuff’ they did.”
Collins raised his hand, as though he were about to resist, but his hands were tied, he needed Charlie and he wasn’t going to be able to convince her out of her principles. Reaching down to his belt, Collins turned on his radio and adjusted the channel. “Captain, you’re still in the embassy, right?”
“I don’t even get a ‘hi’, doc?” Butler asked rhetorically, as his voice echoed statically over the radio, “Yea I’m still here, whaddya need?”
“Can you put through the kid, um… the secretary, what was his name again?” Collins asked, drifting off topic, “Whatever, I need access to the experimental database for SCP-666, just give him your clearance. If anyone asks, it was under my authority.”
There was silence for a while before another voice came over the radio, “Dr. Collins, it’s Hunter, are you really giving me permission to use the Captain’s clearance?”
“Yes, I don’t have time to explain.” Collins urged, desperately wishing to move along faster, “I need you to look up experiment log SCP-666.5, it was the one with the D-class we sent to the pride ring that didn’t return.”
“Give me a moment-“ Hunter cautioned, as the radio again fell silent for a minute. “Um, yea I got it, it was D772365 , presumed terminated after failing to return at the end of experiment 666.5.”
“Pull up his file.”
“Yea I’ve got it.” Hunter affirmed.
Collins pulled the seal off his suit, “read it out,” he stated before pulling his helmet off and pointing it with the opening toward Charlie, allowing her to hear everything the secretary said.
“ D772365 , real name: Brian S Fullort, age: 29, nationality: American, no known mental illnesses, presumed terminated post experiment 666.5. Convicted of first degree murder of a federal official after murdering a judge that sentenced him for a previous crime in his home state of Nevada. It is reported that he was in the process of mutilating the body as police arrived. Additionally charged with two counts of attempted murder , three counts of assault with a deadly weapon , severe bodily harm , endangering law enforcement , and resisting arrest . A hit-list of several other federal officials was found in his home, adding eleven counts of conspiracy to commit murder , and debated domestic terrorism charges. Sentenced to death row by a federal judge before being acquired by the SCP Foundation.”
With his helmet off, Collins attempted to maintain as neutral of an expression as he could, though the sheer nerves that Charlie exhumed made that difficult. Now that the secretary was done, he placed his helmet back on his head and resealed his suit, “Thank you Hunter, that’ll be all.”
Charlie held her arms crossed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she stayed quiet for a while. Simultaneously the D-class began to grow more and more anxious, constantly darting his eyes around between the soldiers and demons. “If - I hand him back over to you, what will happen to him?”
“Honestly, I have no clue.” Collins said, glad his mask was covering his face again, as his stomach soon contorted itself into something vile. “We don’t exactly have many cases where D-classes manage to escape for months at a time. Standard procedure would dictate that he’d be reprocessed.” Collins explained, though he knew that the D-class would almost certainly be terminated for their lack of cooperation. “Charlie, please, he’s not worth your protection.”
She shivered as she exhaled, though nothing came out of her mouth just yet, as Charlie looked back at the D-class she’d been protecting. “Ugh, dammit-“ she cursed, turning back to the doctor, “Alright, Collins, you can take him back.”
“Thank you.” Collins motioned to the Sergeant, giving her the go-ahead.
Keeping her rifle pointed, Ward and a few others began to approach the man. “You! Comply with all orders or you will be terminated.” She ordered, “Hands up and get on the ground.”
The situation quickly dissolved however, with the D-class breathing rapidly, gradually taking steps back from the soldiers. “No, no no no- I’m not going back!” Continuing to fidget, he began frantically looking around the room, looking for an exit, with the only one being the large double doors that Collins’ team was standing in. Meanwhile the soldiers crept ever closer, and began to corner him ever more. “No no-“ in a frantic final panic he reached into his waistband, grabbing at something tucked behind his belt. “Get away from me!” He screamed, pulling out an angular black pistol and pointing it forward.
“Gun!” Ward shouted, squeezing the trigger of her rifle as a single loud crack echoed through the hall, followed by the hard thud of the D-class’ body collapsing to the ground. Half a second later the members of MTF Xi-1 swarmed the body, disarming, restraining, and proceeding to carry it out. A soft wheeze emanated from the D-class’s mouth as he was marched past.
Charlie covered her eyes, groaning in an increasing pitch, as her face scrunched into something of frustration. In her final bid of agony, she threw herself back into one of the dining chairs, letting her head fall forward, catching it with her hands, leaning forward with her elbows against the table. Vaggie appeared at her side seemingly within an instant, taking a seat beside her girlfriend and wrapping her arm around her shoulders. “And now someone has officially been murdered in the hotel… and under my watch.” She muttered quietly to herself, before sighing exhaustively. “Why does it seem like everything’s gotten ten times more chaotic now that you’ve shown up?” She asked, gazing directly up at Collins, with tired eyes.
“I’m… I’m sorry.” Collins answered to which Vaggie audibly scoffed at him, “No really, I am truly sorry.” taking a seat opposite the girls. “The Foundation is willing to do whatever it takes to protect Humanity, which can make us - impulsive - leading us to throw things at the wall till something sticks, which sometimes isn’t the right thing. Human experimentation is just one of those evils the Foundation considered necessary.” Collins rubbed his hands, struggling to make eye-contact with the girls, even with his helmet on. “Though it evidently hasn’t helped much, I’ve been trying to limit things like this as much as possible. Since I’ve sent back my report, a dozen different researchers have requested to speak with you, the great Charlotte Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer, princess of Hell. You, and well hell in general, have been the talk of the town topside. Guess there’s just something about eternal damnation that tickles their fancy. Some of them however- well let’s just say there’s a good reason why Phyllis is the only other researcher I’ve brought with me so far. Otherwise I’ve been stonewalling most of them, officially because of our established relationship, unofficially because I’m worried about what they’d do.”
Ward suddenly rushed back into the room, “Doctor Collins-“ she called, standing at attention before him. “Sir, the D-class-“ she stopped abruptly, looking toward Charlie and Vaggie for a moment before resuming, “has… been stabilized, he’s been placed in one of the vehicles and is awaiting transport.”
“Well, it seems no one’s been murdered in the hotel anymore.” Collins remarked, trying to raise the mood as he rose from his seat. To no avail, as he garnered no reaction from the girls. “I’m sorry, I’ll get you your therapists.” He stated, proceeding toward the exit alongside Ward.
“Collins!” Charlie called suddenly, urging the doctor to stay a moment longer. “How’s Baxter doing?”
“I, um-“ Collins stuttered, not expecting a question like this with everything that’s transpired. “Fine, I would assume, he’s still being processed, after that his interview, and then he’ll be evaluated for his potential as an employee.” He explained, though he could tell that there was something off with Charlie’s expression. “I’m sorry I snatched him away so suddenly, but he volunteered and well- he has great potential, I can guarantee that Wilcox will allow him on, even he wouldn't pass up this opportunity.”
“I don’t know how much of what you say I can believe anymore-“ Charlie stated at last, everything that happened between today and yesterday wasn’t going to smooth out as easily as hoped. “But thank you, for the kind words at least. I just hope you’re still telling the truth about the Foundation making a difference in the world.”
Collins silently nodded, before continuing into the hall. Once they were far enough, he turned back to Ward, “what’s the actual status of the D-class?”
“Dead, sir.” She replied, confirming all of Collins’ suspensions. “There was nothing we could do, bullet went straight through his heart. He’s bagged and waiting in the MRAP.”
“Doesn’t matter, he’d have been terminated anyway.” Collins assured, “have two men arrange for his transport back to the Embassy.” He turned to his assistant next, “Phyllis I’m sorry to do this to you, but I need you to go with them. Secure a portal back to Site-59, I want a full autopsy ASAP.”
“Yes, sir.” Ward reacted without hesitation, marching across the hall shouting; “Six, Eight, you boys are going on a field-trip!”
Phyllis remained more hesitant, “What about the testing procedures scheduled for today?”
“I’m still proceeding with them, I’ve got too much riding on it now.” Collins explained, “Go figure haphazardly scheduling something like this last minute would bite me in the ass.” He added.
“Except that you’re transferring that over to me.” She remarked, with a certain tone in her voice.
“Well of course, your job is to do all the paperwork I don’t want to and take my punishments for me.” Collins joked, though it really wasn’t that far from the truth, even if he took most of his own punishments. “Sorry I’m sapping you from the one exciting thing happening today, I’ll make it up to you next time.”
“I’m holding you to that, sir.” She replied, setting off for the exit, where her escort awaited.
With that whole dilemma settled, Collins desperately needed to get back on track with his haphazard schedule. Everything was going to have to be cut short if he wanted to have everything wrapped up before the conference. Just as he was about to turn back into the hall, the tall slender spider waltzed past him and toward the front door. “Where are you going? I asked you to wait.”
“Work.” Angel replied simply, not even bothering to look at the Doctor as he passed. “You was taking too long.”
“Wait, no-“ Collins reacted, rushing up to the spider, “I told you I needed you.”
“Listen-“ Angel continued, staring with a sassy frown down at Collins, bending at the waist to meet his eye-level. “You may not get this, but in my line of work, not showing up costs me significantly more than just my paycheck.” He straightened himself out and continued on his way, “so fuck off, I’m going to work.”
“Whatever your wage is, I’ll double it! Just for your time today.”
Angle audibly laughed something hysterical, “bitch please, double my wages ain’t worth getting my ass beat.”
“Fine, I’ll quadruple it.”
Angle stared at Collins for a while, seemingly trying to differ if he was being serious or not. “Alright, that may be worth it. Where do you even have that kinda money?”
“That’s classified.”
“Fine, I don’t give a damn where you get your mystery money from, but you better not be short-changing me.”
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The setup was simple, but it was all they needed. Charlie was kind enough to provide them a back room and a couple of chairs, and the rest was left to the Doctor, the Agent, and the Spider. Angle was placed in the center, with Collins and the Agent seated just before him. A small audio recorder had been placed just under his Collins’ chair, while he brandished his notepad. Simple but they were ready to begin.
“Alright-“ Collins began, “Audio log: SCP-666-2- umm… AD.2? No, 3…” Collins murmured, trying to unjumble the vast amount of numbers and previous interviews and everything, “or would this be an experiment log? Whatever, I’ll figure it out later.” He concluded, finally getting back on topic. “I, Dr. Collins, am interviewing subject 2-AD, and I’m assisted by Agent… Radclyffe.” Collins noticed the Agent’s helmet turn toward him for a moment, Angle didn’t seem to react, meaning everything could proceed as planned. “Starting off, could you tell me your name, please.”
Angle cocked his brow at Collins, “Um, You already know it… it’s Angel Dust.”
“I meant your real name.” Collins corrected.
“Hey now hold up there, Doc-“ Angel reacted, visibly recoiling at the request, “only some of my closest friends know my name, I can tell you right now nobody in this hotel does, so why the fuck would I tell you. All you do is poke and prod me like some kinda fucking lab-rat.”
“I was really hoping that your cooperation would last longer, Mr. Anthony De Vito.”
For a second Angel’s eyes went as wide as a pair of golf-balls, before quickly sharpening down into a heavy frown, as he visibly clenched his jaw tighter. “Listen to me, fucker, I don’t know where the fuck you got that from, but don’t you dare ever say that fucking name to me ever again.”
“That’s a shame, I truly was looking forward to talking to you about Arachniss and Molly, or should I say Salvatore and Marilena De Vito.”
“How the fuck-“
“We know everything, Mr. Dust, there’s no secret in the world that can hide from the SCP Foundation.” Collins explained, to which Angel seemed to hush any retaliation, yet he still kept his expression just as furious. “I understand your discomfort, the door is right there if you’d like, however if you still want your money, and perhaps something more, I’d encourage you to stay and continue the interview.”
Angel seemed to consider the offer, eyeing the door for a while, though finally huffed and conceded. “Fine, this better be fucking worth it.”
“Very well then,” Collins continued, flipping over a page on his notepad. “We would like to talk about your past, if you don’t mind.”
“If you already know all this shit, why are you asking me?”
“It’s called: building rapport.” Collins answered simply, “Besides, this is more of an experiment anyway.”
“Fine then, whaddya wanna know?” Angel asked impatiently, “About my role in the mob, about me being a queer fuck, about Henroin, or rather ‘Brunnelo De Vito’ and his shitty dealings?”
“We can start wherever you’d like.” Collins stated, giving the floor to Angel.
“Fuck it then, I’m already pissed as fuck, so let’s fucking talk about my fucking piece of shit of a father.” He cursed out, seemingly eyeing Collins with every word. “Aside from being a mean old fuck, Henroin was always an overly ambitious cunt. Was always overzealous with his money too, held these grand occasions in his fucking manor one day and the next we was Bearily scraping by for fucking food. Big family’s certainly don’t help. He was so desperate to be one of the big shots that he’d constantly be sucking the dicks of every other Mafioso just to gain enough favors to get even remotely on the radar of the other hot-shots. Constantly had us running jobs for everyone in town. Took it out on fucking us too,beat us like we’s was fucking nothing. Sal- Arachniss took most of it, hell he’d try to catch himself but sometimes he just ended up taking out on me… Don’t get why he ‘n Molls’d still work for him… That’s when we was kids anyway, later it got better, worse, I don’t know fucking sideways. We had more money I guess. Though I just meant that he’d spend it on bigger and bigger fucking parties and shows and whatever the hell, which meant inviting every fucking branch of the family too. I swear, it was like a small fucking army of hit men and mafiosos, ugh and all their fucking kids too. Don’t think Henroin even enjoyed them himself, nine time outta ten he’d end up getting into fights with fucking uncle- um… the fuck was his name? Arrigo! Arrigo Moschella-“
For a moment the agent stopped paying attention to the story and looked over to Collins, he acknowledged her, she nodded. A promising sign.
“-those two fucks would be going at it for fucking hours even after everyone had left, late into the night, hell sometimes they’d still be going the next morning. Always felt kinda bad for his daughter though, she was idono how old, maybe like six or seven last I saw her. They had split a long time ago, so whenever uncle Arrigo went for his usual spats against Henroin, she’d always be shoved onto us- well me an’ Molls, Niss was always too busy playing macho to bother with her. She was kind from what I rememba, soft spoken, not built for crime, kinda hope she got out of it. It’s funny, uncle Arrigo should be down here by now, surprised none of the family’s run into him yet. Whatever, ‘s probably dead already.” Angel suddenly broke eye contact, staring at the floor rather than either of the foundation members. “Then Niss left for the army, t’was the beginning of the end for me, I guess. What was it, 42 or was it 43 already? Either way, he wanted to go fight in the war, heh I remember he’d send us photos of ‘im in Italy. But with him gone, fucking Henroin of course pushed me to fill his place, got to see all the baggage that Niss had been dealing with for years. It was only then I really got him, I guess. It was only a matter of time then when he eventually found out I was gay, which he was none too pleased about, and then my drug ‘problems’ which just made it worse. Of course Niss and Molls knew for a long time but between the three’s us we’d kept it secret. Was quite the homecoming for Niss in 45, with Molls Barely keeping the family together. Then the old man sent me off, kicked me out, sent me to do jobs as far away from him as possible. Of course by 49 I was done for… and now I’m here. Niss came down a couple years later, then Henroin and Molls.” Angel gave a long pause before he finally made eye-contact with Collins again, curiously both the rage in his face and voice were gone, replaced with a strange pacificity. “Is that now what you fucking palookas wanted or is there somthing else?”
Collins leaned back in his seat, “I donno, what do you think Agent? Have you heard enough?”
“I- believe so, Doctor.”
“Very well then, if you’d like to unmask yourself-“ Collins suggested, as she moved to pull the seal off her suit. “Angel, I’d like to introduce you to Agent Ofelia Moschella of the SCP Foundation.”
“You haven’t changed in the slightest-“ Lifting the suit’s helmet off her head, the agent was revealed to be an older woman, somewhere in her late seventies at least, something of a strained expression on her face, though with gentle yet surprisingly sharp eyes. “Ciao Anthony.”
Angel grew a strange smile as he cocked one of his eyebrows, “W-wah, just… heh, what did I expect.” Angel leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, crossing his lower pair of arms as he placed another with its fingertips against his forehead. “Thought you had me, didn’t you Doc? Just had to get some old broad to learn everything about me, have her pretend to be some cousin of mine, get me to spill everything you'd ever wanted to hear. Yea bullshit, real fucking clever bravo.” He slowly clapped twice to add emphasis.
Collins looked back and forth between Angel and Agent Moschella, who didn’t react in the slightest to the accusations. “What do you mean?” Collins asked, a certain desperation in his voice as this got in the way of everything he was investigating. “No, no Angel, this is really her-“ Collins scrambled through his notes to find something to convince the stubborn spider. “She was picked up in the early sixties after the downfall of the De Vito crime family. Her experience in the mob was deemed a suitable substitute for professional training and a desirable skill set. She was placed into monitoring and surveillance as an intelligence officer. She only retired in 2005 and was sworn to secrecy.” Collins explained, “Was it the name at the beginning? I literally came up with it on the spot. It was just to ensure no unpredictable variables, I needed your recollections to be honest and accurate.”
Agent Moschellae leaned forward, closer to Angel, keeping close attention to the spider’s eyes even as he tried to avert them. “Anthony-“
“Don’t call me that, bitch!” Angel snapped.
The agent hung her head slightly, as she actively chuckled at the insult. “Dai, sono italiano, non puoi farmi del male con insulti così deboli. Dammi qualcosa di meglio.”
“Vai a soffocare con un cazzo di capra, sacco di merda di cavallo mal confezionata.”
“Hmm, you say the second part too much. I’ve only seen you a handful of times, yet I’ve easily heard you say that well over a dozen times.” She responded, perfectly calm, completely unfazed. “Regardless, we can sit here and insult each other all day, or we can talk.” Softening her voice somewhat she almost took on a slight somber tone. “Please Anthony, you know that it’s me. Hell I still have the photos of Salvatore in Italy, Marilena gave them to me after Sal- merda, I remember when Salvatore told me you’d died…”
“Nah, no, nu-huh, Bullshit, you guys could’ve easily just gotten your hands on those somehow and trained her to respond like this.” Angel argued, keeping his eyes on Collins as he effectively ignored Agent Moschellae, not bearing to look at her. “I ain’t buying it.”
“How about a little story then, something personal, involving you, never recorded.” She proposed as she suddenly regained Angel’s attention. “Remember Christmas of 47?” Cracks started to show in the Agent’s cool exterior as emotion began to break her voice slightly, and her eyes began to reflect light with a pearl-like shimmer. “You should, it was the last time we saw each other. It was exactly as you described, Brunnelo and Arrigo were going at each other again - started with bagels I believe… or was that the year before? Either way it was always the little things that caused their spats. I was left alone with you and Marilena, Salvatore was there too but he was off on his own. I was upset about something, I don’t remember if it was anything in particular, with how Arrigo reacted whenever I was upset I learned quickly to bottle up my emotions, so maybe it was just all that coming out.” The first real tears began to form in the corners of the Agent’s eyes as she struggled to keep her voice calm enough to continue. “You tried to entertain me in all the ways you usually did, ran around with me, let me play with your hair, or just gave me your attention. Nothing worked this time though, as I just remained upset. Finally you picked me up and placed me on the kitchen counter, away from everyone else, you put your hand on my cheek, and you told me-“ finally tears began to roll down the Agent’s face, her voice trembling as her face began to shrivel up with emotion. “Piccola Ofelia, sei una delle fiammelle più luminose che abbia mai incontrato. La nostra vita non è facile, eppure tu rimani la pallina di energia che sei sempre. Sei forte, ma per favore non aver paura di lasciarti andare, va bene piangere. Sono-“
“Sono qui ora, ci sarà sempre qualcuno lì per te. In caso contrario, lo sarà il mio spirito. qualunque cosa tu faccia, non lasciare che la tua scintilla si spenga.” Angel finished off, letting the Agent catch herself as tears began to more actively pour down her face.
“So you do remember.” Ofelia mentioned, a smile contrasting her tears. “Then I broke, I just cried and cried, and you just stood there quietly and held me.”
“Before falling asleep, I put you on the couch and sat beside you, waiting for uncle Arrigo to finish.” Angel continued, any distrust or anger having long faded away, “Cugina Ofelia, I’m- sorry. For everything I said. I didn’t want to believe it was you, it just felt so wrong, you shouldn’t be down here, and knowing these guys- I’m sorry.”
“Anthony-“ Ofilia began, though a voice remained trembling and emotional, any semblance of the cool collected Agent was gone, as she began to sound more like a consoling mother. “It’s been over seven decades since I last saw you, do you really think I care about some rude words?” She rose suddenly, taking the few steps forward to stand directly before the spider, even seated; she was Barely taller than him. “I’m just happy I could get to see you at least one more time after everything that’s happened.” Before gently leaning in and hugging Angel around his neck, “Do you even know how much you helped me those few times.” Appearing hesitant at first, Angel relaxed, wrapping his arms around her waist.
Despite the numerous infractions and code violations he was witnessing, and to some degree encouraging, Collins remained quiet. Staying back and writing down notes as needed, while he let the sweet scene unfold. Really he had everything he needed, however a part of him didn’t want to break the two up, not yet, not after they just got reacquainted. “I’ll give you two some time.” He mentioned quietly, hardly being acknowledged by them outside of a brief glance, as he left through the door back into the hall. If anything of interest did come up while he was gone, the recorder was still inside.
Though he’d given them time, it appeared he had all run out of his; Collins barely took two steps out of the room before running into Ward, hard hand on her radio as she spoke into the microphone inside her helmet. “Yes sir… I’m aware… I’m sorry sir, as I already mentioned, Dr. Collins is indisposed.” Collins moved in front of her, holding up his hand to draw her attention. Briefly glancing at him, she held up a finger, as she continued her one-sided conversation. “They were his orders sir… that’s not my prerogative… Of course sir, Dr. Collins just became available… yes, patching you through now.” Ward finished, quickly switching off her radio as she turned toward Collins. “Brace yourself, I’ve been holding him off for the last fifteen minutes and he is not happy.”
Seconds later, Collins could feel the speaker in his helmet buzz. Collins sighed, as he figured he knew exactly who it was and what this was about, bracing himself he switched on his radio. “Doctor Collins speaking-“
“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!”
Actively recoiling from the noise, Collins released his radio, he actually stumbled back slightly in surprise, as the screeching voice of Administrator Wilcox deafened him. “I can… explain?”
“I don’t want you to explain Jack-shit, Collins, do you have any idea how much You’ve fucked me over this morning!”
“You know, you might want to watch your words, before you have to empty your wallet into the swear jar.”
“Don’t you dare get snarky with me! What part of ‘don’t do anything until the council’ did you not understand? Now I had to race down Site-59 trying to find you, only to find out you weren’t fucking there, brief the negotiator myself and bring him through, just to get a report that you’re not in the embassy either because your in the hotel playing house with the Princess, forcing me to come down here just to have someone of rank to yell at you to get your fucking ass back here now!”
“I had an experiment come up at the last minute, DNA analysis-“
“I don’t care, get back here now!”
“Wait no, the samples I sent-“
“NOW!” Wilcox screamed one final time as the audio abruptly cut to static.
Collins switched off his radio, he swore he could hear his ears ringing slightly. “Well… that- could’ve- gone- worse?”
“Nothing to say it won’t.” Ward cautioned.
“Knowing the Foundation, it’s bound to.” Collins added, undoubtedly expecting head to be bitten off far more harshly by the end of the day. “I’m sure once I get my shiny little report on his desk he’ll cheer right up.”
“How’d you even keep him from finding out for this long?”
“Funny that, actually-“ Collins started with a chuckle, “Everyone I had to go through was of lower rank than me, so I just told them it was secret and not to tell anyone. Honestly, it worked better than expected.” Collins reminisced, unfortunately his fortune ran out, otherwise he could’ve done much more. “Either way, it seems we’re out of time. Get me the status of the car and get your guys ready to-“ Collins seabed abruptly, through the stained glass windows of the front door he suddenly noticed a shadow. One of colossal stature, potentially even taller than Angel dust, though far more top-heavy in its proportions. Standing before the door, the figure’s head wasn’t even visible, yet it calmly knocked on the door. “Sergeant, get your-“
Time had indeed run out, as the large front doors fluttered open as if they were nothing, slamming into the opposing walls, as the hulking figure bent down to squeeze through the entrance. With deep blue-grey skin, heart-shaped rose-tinted glasses, and a red and white fur coat. Despite being the first time he laid eyes on the Demon directly, Collins was already familiar with him, his face was splattered seemingly everywhere, only increasing in frequency as you got closer to the city center. And though a concrete map of rival entities terrorized hadn’t been finalized yet, he knew that his certainly bordered the Foundation’s. Valentino. “Oooh Angel-cakes~” he cawed, with a disturbing glass-like smoothness though it still gave off the coarseness of a lifelong smoker.
“Everyone on me, now!” Ward barked into her radio, as the rest of Mjolnier-3 joined the firing line.
“Would you look at that~” Valentino hummed, removing the cigarette holder from his mouth as he exhaled a waft of purple smoke. “It’s the little silver-suited bastards that Lucifer gave some of my territory to.” He ducked in another breath through his cigarette before continueing, “Angel, dear, get out here before we have a bloodbath on our hands. I promise I’m not mad, at least, not very~”
“SCP-666-3-VA, vacate immediately!” Collins bellowed, “This building is under the protection of the SCP Foundation-“
“You have ten seconds to comply!” Ward finished, with the rest of the team aiming their weapons up at the demon as she began to count off.
“Ten!”
“Not until I get my prize whore back, bitch!” Valentino countered, seemingly solidifying his position.
“Nine!”
Collins felt a hand on his shoulder that began to push him off to the side and out of the line of fire.
“Eight!”
“Best you stay outta this, Doc.” Sandman stated, leaving Collins to sit behind a pillar toward the side of the room, as he rushed to rejoin the fight.
“Seven!”
“It’s a shame, I didn’t bring any of my goons with me, then we’d have an even fight.” Valentino taunted, keeping his eyes peeled and his grin pointed.
“Six!”
“Shame~” he repeated, clasping his cigarette between his teeth, as he began to reach a hand into the inside of his coat.
“Five!”
Valentino began to take steps forward, slowly beginning to draw somthing from behind his coat.
“Four!”
Seemingly coming out of nowhere, Collins saw Charlie and Vaggie racing towards the skirmish that was about to ensue, “What the hell are you doing?” He called out.
“Three!”
“We have to stop them!” Charlie replied curtly, as she kept going.
“Two!”
“STOP!” Charlie shouted moving through the line of soldiers as she and Vaggie moved in between the opposing sides. “Stop this! I am not having another shoot-out in my hotel. Valentino, leave immediately, you’re not welcome here.”
Valentino laughed in a tone of something sinister, “Princess~” He hummed, taking his hands out of his coat. “I thought everyone we welcome to your little ‘passion project’, you’re not going to make an exception to little ol’ me, are ya?”
“I know why you’re here, and I’m not letting you take him.” Charlie’s eyes turned a fiery red, as her horns began to mildly protrude from her head, “Leave now!” She demanded.
“Not until I get back what’s mine.”
Vaggie put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, seemingly emboldening the Princess. “That’s not going to happen, he’s under my protection.” Charlie asserted, causing Valentino’s eyes to narrow and his smile to become slightly more pointed. “Now leave.”
Valentino moved closer, trying to intimidate the girls, as he was soon just a couple feet away from them. “Under your protection…” he repeated, tauntingly more so than anything, judging by his tone, “We’ll see how much that’s worth.” He stated, turning around, as he took a couple steps away. With the threat seemingly having passed, the girls, alongside much of Mjolnir-3, dropped their guard. However after those few steps the towering Demon, with a surprising swiftness for the being’s size, turned. Hunching forward, reaching forward to slash with one arm as the others were used to draw an elaborately engraved, gold plated, pistol from under its coat. Charlie dodged instinctively, easily side altering the slash, though she wasn’t who he was aiming for. Vaggie, standing with her spear pointed, hardly had time to react before Valentino’s claws, slashing through her spear and striking her, causing her to be launched across the hall.
“Three, Five, get her!” Ward ordered as she quickly realized that the peaceful solution had failed, with Françoi and Adela reacting quickly and following the order. “Everyone else, cover-“
Almost instantly, after witnessing Vaggie be struck, Charlie’s horns suddenly jumped fully out of her skull as the red color in her eyes completely overtook, seemingly erasing her pupils. Suddenly dashing back before Valentino, she grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the gun, tightening around it with an iron grip, with the overlord Demon wincing accordingly. “You DARE!” Charlie growled, her face distorting, with her jaw lengthening into a snout-like fashion, as everyone of her teeth turned to K-nines or were otherwise sharp and pointed. Within the second Charlie appeared the same size as the previously taller Demon and was soon larger.
“I don’t think she needs help, Two.” Sandman commented to a still silent Ward.
A second hand snapped to Valentino’s neck, its soft nimble fingers having transformed to brutish large paws tipped with sharp claws that began to leave their mark on the back of the overlord’s neck. A notable fear entered into the previously all-mighty Valentino’s eyes, as he finally dropped the gun. “If you ever harm her again, I will hunt you down through the seven rings and destroy what remained!” She bellowed in a hollow, deep, demonic tone so abstract from her usual nature. “Do you understand!” She demanded, to which aghast and firmly petrified Valentino struggled to speak, but gave a desperate nod. “Now leave!” She commanded, an eerie tone that echoed through the hall, as she finally released the overlord. Valentino had no hesitation as he swiftly dashed for the door and scampered out of sight.
Françoi had long already started to assess and patch up what minor damage was inflicted to Vaggie, primarily minor bruising with a couple decently sized cuts from where Valentino’s claws impacted. They, however, had front-row seats to the carnage that had ensued, Adela in particular as she stood guard. “Damn, you looked at that and said ‘yea I’ll get between its legs?” She asked from over her shoulder.
“Yea~” Vaggie replied, almost dreamily as she found herself strangely captivated by the heroics of the situation. “Wait-“ She reacted, as she soon snapped back to reality, “No, that wasn’t-“ thought her defense came far too late as she had already earned a taunting cackle from the soldier. “Shut-up… estúpida.” She commented, crunching her shoulder inward in some attempt to hide the embarrassment, in turn throwing off Françoi as he attempted to treat the cut along said shoulder.
“Merde, stop moving.” He stated, pushing the demoness’ shoulder back to where it previously was, earning a winced snarl from Vaggie. “Trois, stop making her move.”
“Not my fault that she's soaked thanks to her morphing demon girlfriend.” Adela crudely remarked, causing Vaggie to practically foam at her teeth. Just as Vaggie was about to move forward and confront the soldier again, Françoi held his arm out infront of her and stared the Demon dead in the eye. She caught the message, grumbled, and sat back again, though maintained targeted glare at the back of Adela’s head.
Within a flash the giant creature that had scared Valentino out of the hotel suddenly was replaced with the small, innocent physic of Charlie in a hunched over form, panting for a moment. As soon as she was back her mind was occupied by one thing: Vaggie . Racing over to where her love had been thrown, there was an innate panic in everything from her eyes to her step. “Vaggie! Are you ok?” She yelped, charging forward without any regard to the fact that Adela literally had to catch her to keep the princess from interfering.
“Woah there, princess.” The soldier cautioned, letting her weapon dangle from a sling, as she physically caught Charlie in her arms and pulled her back slightly. “Let the mean French man do what he does best.” Though the pearly tears cresting the princess’s eyelids suggested that she would do anything but, as she continued to struggle. “She’s in good hands, Françoi has stitched us up at least a dozen times each.”
“Let her!” Françoi called, undoubtedly realizing that hastling the girl, who had just transformed into a monster ten times her size, was a bad idea.
Once the soldier let her go, Charlie was at Vaggie’s side instantly, using the remaining space provided by the medic to hug her girlfriend. “Thank goodness you’re ok.”
“She’s hardly ok.” Françoi interrupted, talking as he continued examining the wounds across the girl’s arm. “She has three large lacerations across her arm and shoulder, which would’ve been worse if it wasn’t for that-“ he pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Vaggie’s spear, which now lay in four pieces on the floor a short distance away. “At least one of these needs stitches, not sure about the other two, regardless she’ll be ok once she stops moving and lets me finish.”
Vaggie gave a glare toward the medic, “How can you not know? Besides, you know we heal faster than you, right?”
Françoi let go of her as he gave his full attention toward the demon, “Would you rather I stick a ruler in it to make sure?”
“He’s not joking about that.” Adela added.
“-Or do you have some other Doctor who’ll give their opinion? Hell, perhaps you’d like to get an infection and continue bleeding everywhere?” Françoi commented, to which Vaggie merely sighed and shook her head. “Then let me work.”
“It’ll all be fine right?” Charlie asked, taking up her girlfriend’s hand, “He’s just trying to help, I’m sure you’ll be much better once he’s done.” She smiled, continuing to hold her hand as she took a seat beside Vaggie.
Having witnessed everything from his hiding spot, Collins wandered into the center of the room, his mind racing for answers, all the while he was unsure of how to actually proceed. As backward as Hell already seemed, now it just felt like everything had been turned upside down. With everything that had happened he was unsure if he should even confront Charlie about it. Although he was fairly certain that he’d put her through enough already. “Doc!” Ward called as she approached him, holding the elegantly engraved pistol that Valentino dropped in her hands. It was an old steel framed model, oversized to fit the large demon’s hands, gold plated all over, with floral patterns engraved throughout from stem to stern, even with a pair of pearl grip-panels. “I’m no armorer, Doc, but-“ she proceeded to remove the magazine from the weapon, atop it rested a single cartridge, its casing an ordinary brass, however the actual bullet was glowing a mild blue color. Appearing almost like glass, it was mildly transparent, with lighting strike patterns of blue streaks running through it. “I know enough that bullets aren’t supposed to do that.”
“Curious…” Collins mumbled, still trying to process through how he was supposed to proceed. “Hold onto it for now, I’ll set some researcher loose on it whenever I have time to do so.”
“You don’t wanna ask her about it?” Ward asked.
“No-“ Collins reacted sharply, already having made his mind up about it. “Let’s not bother them too much more, I think we’ve intruded enough these last few days.” He explained. “God, Wilcox is expecting me back at the embassy- Sergeant, do me a favor and check on the Agent, we need to get moving.”
“Yes sir.” She replied, soldierly, tucking away the pistol inside her webbing before pacing across the hall. The whole situation to her was equally complicated. Every day they’d come to the hotel it always seemed like the biggest threat was Alastor, and with how frequently he was gone, it all seemed strangely safe. She could only hope that Charlie was always the soft cuddly type, no matter what form she took. Ward held up two fingers toward Sandman, flicking them toward herself, as the soldier quickly ran up to her, joining her for their little mission. Surprisingly neither the Agent nor Angel dust had come out during the chaos, as the door remained firmly shut. With two finger she gently knocked twice on the wooden surface, “Agen-“
The splinters began first, small fibers of the door rapidly vacating and exploding off of its surface, dispersing in every direction. Then the chatter, rapid and thunderous, sounded like a dozen lighting bolts striking within a split second of each other, though in rapid succession it sounded more like a typewriter.
Instincts took over, Ward jumped, dropping her weapon in the process, almost falling to her knees, she threw herself to the side, ending up in a seated position, clutching the wall just beside the door, as it quickly became rattled with bullet-holes. Everything became a sudden blur as she caught herself panting for air. She looked toward Sandman, who already had his rifle ready as he took cover likewise. Suddenly the firing stopped, as everything went dead quiet. Ward dashed for her rifle, securing her weapon, before signaling Sandman to open the door. Jumping back to her feet, she sat back ready to take-on whatever was on the other side, as he suddenly flung it open.
On the other side was Angel Dust, the elderly Agent, still with her helmet off, hiding behind him as he was still pointing the smoking barrel of his Thompson machine gun at the door. There was an old expression of utmost terror on his face. “S-shit-“ he cursed.
“Dude, Friendlies…” Ward stated, almost chuckling at herself.
“No, fuck-“ Angel continued, cascading into a small tirade as the fear in his eyes on seemed to deepen. “I’m just- shit, I’m so fucking sorry, I just- I was so scared.”
“Hey man, listen, everything’s-“ Ward tried to calm the panicking spider, before a startled call came from Sandman.
“Two!”
“What?”
“You’re hit…”
The energy seemed to drain from the man as he shakily pointed at a spot on Ward’s equipment. Tracing where the soldier was pointing, Ward felt up at her helmet, where a shallow groove had been carved just on the side of it. However she quickly noticed a pair of circular tears cut out of her rig. The first thing ringing to mind being: did it go through? She saw Françoi already racing across the hall, leaving Vaggie to bleed as he rushed to the Sergeant's aid. Everything seemed to deafen, dropping her rifle out of shock, Ward began clawing at the Velcro keeping her bullet-proof plate in place. She needed to know: did it stop or could she just not feel it due to the adrenaline. Finally she tore the cover off of the vest pocket, as she dashed to pull the steel plate out. On the front there were two large chunks of the plate's rubberized coating missing, as small shards of ceramic fell through the holes and to the ground. On the back however, apart from a very slight bulge, the steel was practically unharmed.
“Where!” Françoi demanded, as he arrived at Ward’s side, “where did it hit?”
“I-I’m fine.” Ward mumbled, barely forming cohesive sentences.
“Nonsense, tell me where it hit, we need to-“
“Françoi-“ Ward called, holding the bullet-proof plate in front of the medic, “Nothing went though.” She stated, a sharp rise in her tone that quickly turned into an almost mad cackle of laughter.
“Right, I-um… good.” Françoi replied, needing a moment to process that there was no harm done to her. Before leaving her to laugh in the face of death, as he returned to continue treating Vaggie.
“You’re sure you’re good?” Adela asked, gazing between the diagonal pattern the bullets carved through the door and how a section of that pattern was copied onto the armored plate.
Ward gradually petered off from her laughter, as she returned to a certain calm, the adrenaline wearing off, it was as though nothing in the world could touch her. “Yea- yea, I’m good. By now I’d have felt it if anything else was off.”
“Shame-“ Adela commented, “I’d have given you a piggyback ride back to base otherwise.” Ward chuckled slightly.
“Sergeant!” Collins called from down the hall, having witnessed the whole occurrence, including the apparent relaxed nature of the soldiers despite what had happened. “You ok?”
“Yes, Doctor, we’re operational.” Ward replied, stashing the mildly shattered bullet-proof plate back inside her vest before fastening it shut once again. “I’m holding you to that, by the way.” Ward mentioned as she began to walk back down the hall, “I expect a piggyback ride the next time I have a bullet in my gut.” She added, patting Adela on the shoulder as she passed. Before long she was before Dr. Collins again, only amplified in her own strange form of optimism, “Reporting in, Doc, just had to get my prescription of lead for the day.”
Collins visibly paused before he even had the chance to say anything, “Al-right…” he mentioned slowly, “The longer we stay here the higher the chance that Dr. Wilcox will tear my head off, so I suggest we move. Provided you have no objections, I was also going to suggest leaving four to continue tending to the girls, and three for security. I’ll arrange transport for them later.”
“I’m sure they won’t mind a few more hours of babysitting, Doc.” Ward responded, moving off to organize her squad, as their time at the hotel was done for the day.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Collins’ own babysitting adventures were just beginning. Though Administrator Wilcox graciously left his head attached to his shoulders, he was however late and would now meet the negotiator in front of the council building and he was about to venture into a meeting hall with all the most powerful demons in Hell. Losing his head, and likely much worse, was certainly still a possibility.
Hefting open the heavily armored door of the MRAP, Collins jumped to the ground and was confronted by a surprisingly modest building. One not much larger than what would be expected from a city hall nor was it particularly decorated, outside of what was to be expected. No marble, no gold, no giant neon signs, none of the expected displays of power that were so prevalent throughout the rest of the city. Just basic Roman columns and typical Greek estetic, the building wouldn’t be out of place in any major western city. Collins could already see who he was supposed to meet, a man dressed in bulky silver suit, surrounded by armed guards isn't exactly discreet, and he stood out like a sore thumb as he waited just a bit beyond the sidewalk. Before approaching the figure, Collins pulled a black-leather briefcase from the MRAP, one end of a set of handcuffs bound around its carry-handle. The door thunked shut behind him, and Collins approached the Negotiator.
“Dr. Collins?” The figure asked, “Negotiator Siegel.” He stated, holding out a hand towards the Doctor.
“Nice to meet you sir-“ Collins greeted, moving the hand holding the briefcase forward and forcing it into Negotiator Siegel’s extended hand, before closing the other end of the handcuffs around the man’s wrist.
“W-what’s this?” He asked, stumbling both physically and verbally as he clearly had no prior experience with whatever Collins was doing.
“Our tithe.” Collins stated bluntly, patting Siegel on the shoulder, “protect it with your life.” He stated with a degree of glee in his tone.
“Your reputation certainly precedes you.”
Collins gestured a hand forward, offering for Siegel to lead them inside. As he did he took note of their provided ‘escort’. Though the pair of soldiers wore the same silver suits, armor, and equipment as MTF Xi-1, they bore the patch of the ‘red right hand’. No playing loose with protocol this time, unless he wanted to end up on the O-5’s chopping block too.
As they began to approach the building’s entrance, there was the loud rumble and squeak of a car stopping behind them. There, just beside the Foundation’s MRAPS, pulled in a luxuriously pure white limousine, its windows almost opaque. Soon a series of doors opened along its side, with a number of figures emerging. First a younger looking girl, not particularly tall l, dressed vibrantly in whites, pinks and blacks, alongside an excessive pair of pigtails protruding from her hair. She appeared more interested in her phone than anything else as she trotted past. Next someone just as humanoid, for the most part; dressed in an almost neon blue and black suit, stepped out a taller figure though not excessively so. Curiously it’s head was a flat screen tv on which a pair of eyes and teeth was projected, the figure raised an eyebrow as it passed the researchers though otherwise hardly took notice. Lastly, the horridly tall creature dressed in a rose colored jacket with fur emerging from ever opening, alongside rose-tinted glasses, smoking up a storm. Valentino. Who lurched after the other two, as he growled down at Collins before passing.
“Negotiator Siegel, meet our opposition.” Collins mentioned, his tone surprisingly upbeat as whisked away after them. Siegel swallowed so hard it was practically audible outside the suit, though he continued on after Collins regardless. Perhaps the members of MTF Alpha-1 served as extra motivation.
Internally the the building was far more decadent than the outside portrayed, with all the glitz and glamor of several large chandeliers covering the ceiling of the foyer, with columns lining its walls, large windows giving a view of the city, while marble framed everything, alongside a sharp deep oak polished wood floor, and a grand staircase in the center of it all. Those were just the major details that were the most striking as the team entered. Otherwise the interior wasn’t terribly crowded, with perhaps a hundred Demons being present, obviously not all overlords as most looked like henchmen or servants of sorts. Some clearly got along and mingled with one another while others kept their distance. With the apparent lack of urgency, it became clear that here is where they waited.
“Enjoying yourself, Mr. Siegel?” Collins asked, as the negotiator practically clung to the front door.
“I will never understand you, Doctor, nor any of the personnel who seem to enjoy themselves here.” Siegel complained, “Administrator Wilcox’s briefing was quite clear, every being in this room could kill us without a second thought, yet you just frolic around them.”
“Yes but isn’t it fascinating?” Collins pondered, ignoring any sense of danger that concerned the negotiator oh so much. “These were all once people, aren’t you somewhat curious as to what you’d be like down here? Besides they won’t threaten us, Lucifer wouldn’t allow it, this is neutral ground. Otherwise it’d have been a bloodbath already.”
“From what I understand of him, I doubt that SCP-666-5-LM would care much.”
“Word of advice, address the entities by their names, they don’t like the numbers.”
“Don’t worry, Doctor, this isn’t my first time doing something like this-“ Siegel assured.
“Oh really~” Crackled a staticky voice, causing the negotiator to jump and quickly rush over to the relative safety of the MTFs. Though the protection they could offer in this situation would be limited at best. “Converse with Demons often, do you?” The voice asked again, as Alastor made himself known, walking out of the crowd, with a woman, slightly taller than himself, hanging from his arm. The two were concerningly well matched, sharing the same smile and a love of red, though her apparently hollow eyes were far more unnerving than anything Alastor could muster.
“Hello, Alastor, not surprising that you’re here.” Collins commented.
“Though I’m very surprised that you are!” Alastor recanted, giving off a slight laugh. “The hotel’s pesky little Humans have come all this way. So, he’s let you in has he?”
“That’s none of your concern.” Siegel stated, though didn’t come any closer to the Demon as he remained by the soldiers.
“Everything’s being covered by black ink, all I can tell you is that we’re here for the council meeting, nothing more.” Collins explained in as careful of terms as he could.
“Oh well, I’ve come to expect that from you.” He gave another kurt laugh before continuing, “Ah but where are my manners, I haven’t introduced you to-“
“Attention all Overlords!” A voice bellowed, as a well dressed imp stood at the top of the grand staircase and addressed the crow. “His majesty, the king of Hell, Lucifer Morningstar is ready to greet you. You all may proceed through the doors at the far side of the room, and enter the council chamber in an orderly fashion.”
“It seems that’ll have to wait. I’ll see you inside, Doctor~” He let off an eerie chuckle before disappearing into the crowd, which gradually began to file toward the doorway the Imp had pointed out.
“In that case I hope you're ready, negotiator Siegel.” Collins prepared, as he, the negotiator, and the pair of soldiers gradually began to follow after the crowd and into the chamber.
The Blatant decadence of gold and marble continued into the council chambers though was now joined by a long wooden table, easily able to seat at least fifty people, plus plush leather chairs. Though at the far end at the front of the room the table was headed by a golden throne, in which, sitting with his legs propped over the armrest, was a very bored Lucifer.
With no apparent structure as to who sat where, Collins and Siegel simply made their way toward the first set of seats they saw, which happened to be between a flaming skull-headed demon and a demon with a green-glowing jack-o-lantern-esque face with four eyes and a broad brimmed hat. Meanwhile their security stood safely behind the researchers, as several other overlords seemed to have brought entourages of their own, presumably security. Some in suits, most not, nothing militarist though, no PMCs, no professionals, nothing that MTF Xi-1 couldn’t handle, at least not externally, magic and powers were the true equalizer.
Collins leaned over to Siegel, “You remember those three?” He asked, nodding his head over to Valentino and his friends.
“Of course, they walked in just before us.” The Negotiator confirmed.
“They’re the big ones in this city-” Collins cautioned, “Designated SCP-666-3-VA, VO, and VE, or Valentino, Vox, and Velvet, from what we understand they control the majority of the city and have their hands in everything. Not afraid of showing it either, I’m sure you saw at least one of their faces plastered somewhere on your drive over here.”
“If those three are in league then who else in this room is?” Seigel questioned giving a brief gander over the other overlords seated at the table. “I’m assuming they haven’t been too keen on the Foundation.”
Collins just shook his head, though quickly moved on to his next subject, “Him however-” Collins pointed toward Alastor seated curiously close to Lucifer. “We can work with. SCP-666-3-AL, Alastor, though initially hostile, has proven surprisingly… helpful, for lack of a better term.” Collins leaned in closer to emphasize his next point, “Do not, under any circumstance, trust him. Don’t make any deals, no agreements, nothing binding, be careful around him.”
“Not giving me much to work with.” Seigel mentioned, “Who’s his girlfriend?” He asked, nodding toward the tall woman with hollow eyes seated next to him.
“I have no idea-”
The mild aura of conversation suddenly ceased as a pair of sudden claps echoed through the hall, with the air growing dense as Lucifer sat forward and rose from his seat. He began pacing around, though remained at the head of the table, as he began his address. “Beginning with the most interesting news that has occurred recently, I’m sure you’re all already aware of the arrival of Humanity’s SCP Foundation; they were so kind as to join us for this little meeting.” He sharply gestured a hand out toward the silver suited representatives. “Tell me, is that you Dr. Cox or whatever the other one’s name was?”
Collins stood as soon as he was addressed, “Dr. Collins, sir, Administrator Wilcox was indisposed.” He wafted his hand encouraging Seigel to stand as well, which he soon did. “However, I am only here today to assist Negotiator Seigel who will be the primary representative of the Foundation in future.”
“Lord.” Seigel mentioned giving a minimal bow in Lucifer’s direction.
“What business do Humans have in Hell anyway?” Vox asked, as his electric voice billowed across the room.
“Enh, what’s it matter? They’ll be out again soon enough.” Valentino mentioned, laughing coarsely as a handful of others joined him.
“I’ll have it be known, that the Foundation had more than adequate security forces to protect itself, however we are here with peaceful intentions.” Seigel spoke up, having overcome his nerves as a new cool took over, apparently just needing to get into his element, a professional. “Hostility and threats will not be tolerated, cooperation is encouraged.” He stated in finality as he sternly addressed the Demons, a bagger yapping up at lions.
“Well, at least he has teeth.” Lucifer mentioned, taking his seat once again as he propped his legs up on the table, “Should be entertaining enough.”
The foundation members resumed their seats, as Siegel leaned over to Collins, “What’s Lucifer’s angle on all of this?” He asked.
“Be a good host, pay up, and he won’t care.”
“This is ridiculous!” Vox echoed, “you humans better learn your place, living is only a disadvantage down here.” A smug grin projected on the tv screen, as he leaned across the table, “Making threats while sitting at the bottom is a good way to get crushed.”
“After taking some of my territory no less.” Valentino added, sharing his cohort's smugness.
Lucifer was never willing to say much about the territory he had given the foundation, the curious giddiness of the king of demons as he watched on made his true intentions very clear. A test of sorts, seeing how powerful the Foundation was by throwing it up against one of Hell’s most powerful overlords. That or it was all a game to him, the Foundation being just another pawn to toss around and cause chaos. Knowing Lucifer it was likely a bit of both.
Then let’s entertain him , Collins considered. “That’s quite rich coming from someone who’s actively attacked property protected by the SCP Foundation, and who actively threatened its inhabitants earlier today.” The overlord’s frown suddenly disappeared, grimacing as he crossed his arms slightly tighter.
“That’s the nature of this shit dumbass, don’t come here crying just cause you lost a couple toys.” Vox taunted, clearly unaware of the greater implications.
“Don’t worry none of my ‘toys’ were harmed, but someone else’s were.”
“Val, the fuck is he about?” Vox asked.
“It’s quite a lovely establishment too, one I’m sure most of you here are familiar with thanks to the newscast on TV.” Collins took care to analyze the expressions around the room, most noticeably Alastor’s intrigue as he quietly chatted to the hollow-eyed woman. “I’m talking about the Hazbin-Hotel of course.” He announced, as the air suddenly became ten times denser. Lucifer tilted his head forward, the brim of his hat obscuring his eyes, becoming more stern though he remained silent.
With a violent ire, Vox’s gaze darted to Valentino before going back toward the researcher. “The fuck is this bullshit!” He shouted jumping of from his seat, “This can’t possibly-“
“You dare to jump for penance after attacking the princess of Hell?” Collins countered, standing from his own seat as he pointed across the table toward the pimp. “Of course after striking her girlfriend, the great and powerful Valentino was kicked out with his tail between his legs by Charlotte Morningstar herself.”
Vox seemed as though he was about to counter but ceased suddenly as Lucifer held up his hand. The Demon king now sitting straight up in his seat, as he addressed the room directly. “And you have proof of this?” He asked, a certain rate already boiling in his tone.
“Plenty-“ Collins replied, “From the medic that I had treated miss Vagatha to the gun that mister Valentino dropped on his way out.”
“Lord, I didn’t-“ Valentino began, though was soon forced to stop as Lucifer’s slander hand grasped his face violently, knocking the rose-tinted glasses aside as he squeezed the Demon’s face harshly. Within the blink of an eye Lucifer had crossed half the table, judging by the tread marks and scrunched up sections of the table-cloth it wasn’t teleportation either.
“Shut up!” Lucifer demanded, standing on the table leaning over the overlord, staring down with blood-red eyes, identical to Charlie’s. For the first time the overlord’s eyes were fully visible as he stared into Lucifer’s with abject horror. “Listen to me very carefully-“ Lucifer continued, a certain sadistic enjoyment as he leaned in closer. “If you ever threaten my daughter again, I’ll ensure that you will experience everlasting pain so brutal you’ll wish you’d never lived, before I ensure to tear down every memory of you to ever have plagued this cursed place. Do I make myself clear?” Unable to speak, the demon frantically nodded his head up and down. “Even that would be a punishment too good for you.” Lucifer scoffed before letting the overlord go. Calmly the king straightened himself out, before turning and walking across the table toward Collins. “You, how is she?”
Collins stumbled over his words, stuttering like an armature as his own nerves flavored up; “M-miss Vagatha, is alright, her injuries were minor and was treated by-“
“Not her.” Lucifer corrected.
“Charlie, is… well. We were hashing out agreements on matters that mutually benefited us.”
Lucifer shut his eyes briefly and calmly breathed in and back out again. “If anything happens to her while you’re even in the vicinity, human, then- well-“ he chuckled, “you’re still alive, I’ll finally get to actually kill someone again.” Just like that Lucifer’s previous nods seemed to return, as he began to skip back across the table to his throne. “Ah, I am so proud of my little firework though. Even with her more curious obsessions, she still knows how to dish out punishment.” Vox and Collins retook their seats, as the austere silence continued to permeate the room. Lucifer hopped back into his throne, as a sudden light seemed to flicker on behind his eyes, “Doctor, you haven’t heard all the stories I’ve told over the centuries about Charlotte, guess I’ll just have to repeat them all for you.” Collins expected a groan or sigh to fill the air though it seemed that the room was too petrified for such an act, as Lucifer began his ramble on old family stories.
“He loves his daughter, add that to his angle.” Collins mentioned to a seemingly frozen Seigle, the professionalism having once again disappeared from the negotiator.
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Lucifer would eventually finally release the council after a couple of hours of regaleing about old stories of Charlie’s childhood and Lilith. In the end he collected his tithes heard from a few other overlords before deciding he was sick of their company and kicked them out. Most of the overlords left soon after, some others the Foundation representative included, lingered a while longer, as the two discussed their findings.
“Are you certain that Lucifer really isn’t a concern in all of this?” Siegel asked once again, unable to fathom that such a powerful being wouldn’t flaunt that power, especially in Hell. “He didn’t seem to be particularly amiable to either of us.”
“As if the dozens of stories he told us about his ‘little Apple-crumble’ and how she grew up into a ‘strong Apple-pie’ didn’t already get that across.” Collins recounted, as odd as the stories were, the fact that Lucifer preferred to spend most of the council’s time telling stories rather than actual business was evidence enough that he didn’t care. Though it was kind of adorable . “Besides Lucifer is the reason we’re set up down here to begin with, even if it seems purposefully to cause conflict, he has no incentive to actively hinder us.”
“Still, in negotiations it can often be strategically beneficial to play the part of the-“ Siegel paused briefly as his head turned away, “fool.” He finished, as he watched the towering figure of SCP-666-3-VA approached them, while 3-VO and 3-VE passed by and water by the door.
Valentino came as close to the pair as he could before being stopped by a raised hand from their escort, a smile curiously a cent from his face, appearing more stern instead. “I have to say that I’m — no, impressed isn’t the right word — Absolutely pissed the fuck off!” He yelled, leaning over the Alpha-1 member to point down at Collins and Siegel. The members of Right-Red-Hand actively pushed the overlord back before aiming their weapons up at him after they made sufficient distance. “But of course where are my manners?” Valentino remarked, a sinister smile returning to his face once more. “What you did in there was bold, I like that, don’t reach too high up the ladder, though, cause you might slip and fall. You-two’ll learn soon enough-“
“Val, stop wasting your time with those clowns, you fucking comming or what?” Vox’s electric voice echoed from through the hall.
Valentino began to walk around the Foundation member in a wide arc, “I hope your little embassy is doing well, my condolences can be quite explosive~” he finished before wandering off towards the other two overlords.
“Was he-“ Siegel began
“Yes,” Collins answered, anticipating what the negotiator was about to ask, he felt his own heart drop into his stomach as his gut wrangled itself into something awful, “We need to get back to the embassy, now.”
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As the MRAP, which Dr. Collins and Negotiator Siegel in, hurried down the street as fast as the heavy vehicle could muster. Though, as its front began to illuminate in a flickering orange glow it became clear that it was already too late. From the distance it was impossible to Make out details, but what appeared as a bright flickering fire was brightly raging by the Human embassy. By how it appeared, and the fact that the fire didn’t seem to be under control yet, whatever attack had occurred was recent, perhaps just minutes prior.
As the vehicle drew closer, the figures of silver-suited members of MTF Xi-1 could be seen racing around; some yelling at locals to keep away, others setting barricades and machine-gun tripods as the street was being locked down, a couple were even on the roof of the embassy, keeping a birds-eye view over the are.
A half-dozen soldiers forced the MRAP to stop, standing in front of the bullet-proof vehicle, something that would be superfluous if it weren’t for the anti-tank launcher that one of them was aiming. The remaining four ran up to the vehicle, one on the driver, while the rest handled each passenger door. I’m near syncrisony each door was flung open as rifle barrels poked inside of the vehicle. With wordless aggression, and before he could even put his hands up, Collins had a pair of hands grab him by the material of his suit and practically drag him out of the MRAP, likewise for the other occupants, even their Alpha-1 escort. Acting swiftly, the soldiers kept a rifle pointed at his face as they shoved him against the side of the vehicle, lining up Siegel and the Alpha-1 members beside him. Finally they tore the seal off of Collins' suit before pulling his helmet off, as the terror-struck, clenched expression of Collins was now directly face-to-face with the rifle’s muzzle.
The soldier, who’d torn Collins’ helmet off, paused for a moment, before pressing in a button on their radio and leaning into it. “One, this is Niner, we got a positive ID on Dr. Collins-“ the soldier looked over to Siegel, who’s own helmet had been removed, appearing as an older man with a round head, receding hair, and an equal amount of fear as Collins bestowed. “And Negotiator Seigel, two members of Alpha-1 are with them, over.”
The radio crackled as a reply echoed over it, “Roger, bring ‘em to me.”
“We got anyone else to look out for Sarge?” The soldier asked.
“Negative, no other staff is outside the embassy at this time.”
“Understood.” The soldier replied, holding a hand out to the others as they gradually lowered their weapons. The soldier passed Collins’ helmet back to him, “sorry for the harsh treatment, Doc, I’m sure you understand that we’re a bit tense at the moment.” He gave Collins time to reseal his suit, “C’mon Doc, Captain wants to speak with you.” The soldier stated, as they began to lead Collins through the roadblock and toward the embassy.
The burning silhouette of a car became visible within the flames, burning brightly just to the side of the embassy, as blackened soot extended up the building’s side all the way to the second floor, with clear signs of damage visible on the brick itself however to suggest major damage. Seemingly every window on the building, and some of the buildings nearby, was shattered. Thick black smoke continued to pour from the wreckage as some soldiers clomb around the flames, protected by their suits, as they attempted to exterminate it with simple fire-extinguishers. In the center of the chaotic mess of soldiers running around, observing fire blaze from a safe distance, while coordinating the effort, stood Captain Butler, silver-suit reflecting the orange glow as it illuminated the double-bars pinned to his sleeve.
The soldier escorting Collins gave a swift salute with his right hand, “Captain-“
“Don’t.” Butler interrupted, turning towards the man as he swatted his hand out of the sky. “If it’s officially war with these fuckers then I’m not risking snipers. No rank, and definitely don’t fucking salute me.”
The soldier gazed up at the many tall apartments and buildings that littered the street, with hundreds of windows, each hiding almost anything behind them. “Of course, Sarge.” They corrected themselves, “Dr. Collins, sir.” They stated, stepping back to let the scientist come forward.
Butler hummed in affirmation, “Nine, go get the Negotiator and the Alpha-1 boys inside and see what the Administrator wants with them.” He ordered, as the soldier wordlessly complied, jumping back into it as he ran back toward the MRAP. “Best of the best from across the world, if only people would stop teaching drill and I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping my head on my shoulders.” Butler turned back to watch the inferno, “Of course my permanent station had to be a fucking urban one…”
“How bad was it?” Collins asked, standing beside the Captain.
“Enh, could’ve been worse.” Butler mumbled, “four casualties, two minor, one major, one in critical condition, couple other boys were shook up but it was mostly superficial.” Butler nodded his head down toward a corpse laying on the ground, one Collins somehow hadn’t noticed till now. The body was of a Demon, one wearing a suit and tie, purplish skin with patches of hair covering the being, alongside a tall flat face and brutish, almost primitive, features, though not particularly disproportionate. “Crazy fuck ran the checkpoint and attempted to ram the doors. My guys opened up on him and he panicked, abandoned the car and made a run for it, got this far till he was down, then the car exploded. It wasn’t close enough to cause any real damage, though one of my guys got caught in the blast. I’m calling it that the guy had a deadman’s switch on him and we’ll finds whatever’s left of the IED inside.” Butler turned toward Collins with a certain degree of finality, “We’re at war aren’t we, doc?”
Collins took a moment to respond, almost hypnotized by the flickering fiery blaze and the plumes of black smoke, he had difficulty turning to face Butler. “It would seem so.”
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Collins frustratedly tapped on the plastic shell of the phone as he clutched it to his ear, meanwhile the dial-tone kept obnoxiously ringing in his ear. Who knew what was planned to be the most boring day, could become so eventful, and then so frustrating. Finally he heard a clatter emerge from the other end as someone finally picked up the phone.
“Can I help you sir?” A high pitched voice asked from the other end.
“It’s Dr. Collins of the SCP Foundation, I need to speak with Prince Stolas, it’s urgent.” Collins stressed tired of having to wait for these transitions.
“Momentarily.” The voice simply stated, as the clatter of the phone being put down sounded again, leaving Collins to wait once more,
A minute later the phone was picked up once more, “yes, hello?” The clear voice of the Goetia prince asked.
“Yes, Stolas, thank- finally. Listen I need to speak with Blitz, I’ve called a dozen times and he’s not picking up.”
“Did you call his work or personal phone?” Stolas asked.
“What’s the difference, doesn’t he have both?”
“Well, by work phone I mean the front desk phone of the IMP office, which has been closed down.”
Embarrassment combined with frustration was not somthing Collins was particularly interested in right now, and the fact he’d spent far too long calling an empty office made both significantly worse. “Jesus fucking- can I just speak with Blitz please.” There was a pause as he could hear a distant conversation continue though couldn’t make out any of the words.
“Yea, he doesn’t want to.”
“Want to?” Collins asked with a tone of bewildered anger, “Tell him to get his red ass on this phone or I’m not paying him.” There was again a brief distant conversation, before the muffled sound of the phone being handed off.
“Alright, asshole, you promised me money so this better be fucking good.” The imp stated.
“I’ll keep it brief then.” Collins mentioned, simply happy to finally be back on track. “Valentino, and his sidekicks, you know them?”
“Um yea, who doesn’t, dipshit.”
“Good, I need you to begin gathering intelligence on them-“
“Hold on, fuck no! He’s one of the most powerful sinner demons in Hell, and the most powerful in that city.”
“Listen to me, I don’t need you to spy, to steal, or anything like that, just gather Intel.”
“Un hun, like what?”
“Like- what his usual routes are, the organization of his subordinates, what he likes to drink, hell how much he fucking breathes in a day, I don’t know. Anything and everything can be useful, and I want you to write it all down. You and the rest of IMP can blend in in a way no agent of ours ever could, use it and bring me something good.”
“Aren’t we supposed to get training or some shit? Since we’re now part of your little foundation.”
“You are not part of anything, we’re merely paying you to help us, you said you could be useful, and I vouched for you harder than I should have, so prove it.”
“Fine, fine, Geeze. So, how much we talking?”
“We’ll pay you handsomely.”
“I want numbers, asshole.”
“You’ll get numbers once you get me my Intel.” Collins stated, violently shoving the phone back down into its plastic base, as the conversation finally concluded. What was meant to be a brief call became an absolute drain on both time and patience, as Collins returned to his previous work. The desk of one of the embassy offices was littered with documents of the various encountered entities, as he and Phyllis slowly went through them.
“I know he’s an asshole, but please spare our phones.” Wilcox stated, leaning against the door of the office, as he had waited for Collins to wrap-up.
“Ah, look who cares to join us.” Collins commented, only briefly acknowledging Administrator Wilcox before returning to his work. “Tell me, what’d you think of Baxter? I’ve been thinking of fast-tracking him through.”
“He’s certainly interesting.” Wilcox started, as he began to pace behind Collins. “Found some records from when he was ‘supposedly’ alive; his full name is Alton Len Baxter, English native though made frequent trips to the US, particularly New York. Though your report called him a ‘genius’, his formal education is almost non-existent, no records of primary-schooling, no high-school diploma, and records of expulsion from several universities. In fact there’s barely any records of him at all, most of our tracking came through ship manifests, including his tenth of April voyage aboard the RMS Titanic, after which his trail goes cold.”
Collins gave the explanation only a brief thought, “Great, get the Foundation’s historians to interview him.” Before quickly returning to the vast collection of documents before him, “No Foundation connection… guy really did just guess about the reality anchors, huh genius.” Collins murmured quietly, refusing to take his eyes off his work.
“Collins, what are you doing?” Wilcox finally asked, walking up to peer over the Doctor’s shoulder only to see him actively writing a list of names and notes.
“Distracting you long enough so that I can finish my work before you yell at me that it’s a bad idea.” Collins replied, quickly picking up the list and couple documents and tucking them in his arms where they were safe.
“What are you planning, Collins?” Wilcox asked, rolling his eyes.
“To gather up some allies.” Collins stated simply.
Wilcox squirted as a concerned half-grimace half-smile crossed his face, “Allies? From what, the thugs and overlords? That’s insane.”
“With the utmost respect, doctor-”
“Administrator.” Wilcox corrected.
“Administrator-” Collins continued, “We were just attacked, almost certainly by SCP-666-3-VA, who attacked my team during my, unscheduled, expedition to the hotel, and made his intentions more than clear during the council meeting. You are hardly down here, sir, so let me reiterate that we have two platoons, only eighty soldiers, active in Hell, half of whom are acting as security for our convoys and the construction of Site-727. Now that we’re at war, it’s only a matter of time before those start to get attacked. Not to mention the embassy, it’s our only foothold downhere, we hardly have any men to hold it and if it falls we’ll be back at square one. We’ve spent too much time building up and now our enemies have struck first, we need more allies that we can work with, at least until MTF Xi-1 is more built up and has access to heavier ordinance. That- is what I’m busy doing, Administrator.”
Wilcox shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling as if Collins was some sort of bad headache he had to deal with. “I have tried to support you through this as much as I can, however your recent actions have been impulsive and reckless, yet even then I let you off. You’re crossing the line too much today, so I’ll cut you a deal; you can go ahead, if this proves to be one of your weirdly beneficial impulsions, I’ll let it slide; if this goes wrong, I’m taking you off the case, at least for a while.”
“But-”
“Don’t argue with me.” Wilcox ordered, “You’ve been insubordinate since you stepped through my office door and I always tolerated it because you had promise and brought results. But this has become an obsession, look at yourself man, you’re a mess. Negotiator Seigel’s testimony wasn’t particularly shining and I doubt his report will be either, today has brought your decision making into question. I leave the risk in your hands.”
“Very well then.” Collins mentioned, barging past the Administrator as he headed for the door, “Come along Phyllis.”
“Oh and Collins!” Wilcox called, forcing the Doctor to halt before he left fully. “I agree, Mr. Baxter is a genius. It'll still take weeks, but put him on the fast-track, his skills will be useful.”
“I’ll see to it.” Collins mentioned as he swiftly left, his list and documents tucked firmly under his arm and his assistant in tow.
They’d hardly left, only having gone down two corridors, before Phyllis nervously addressed the thoughts on her mind, “I understand it’s your decision and all, sir, but Administrator Wilcox has a point, maybe you should take a break from the project.”
“Don’t tell me you’re turning on me now.” Collins asked with a disgruntled tone.
“No, not at all, sir-” Phyllis quickly corrected, “It’s just, well- when's the last time you had a full night of sleep?”
Collins chuckled as he stopped suddenly, “Dissuading me from work now, truly you are a lost cause, Ms. Phyllis.”
Phillis ducked her head and covered her eyes, “You know what I meant, Doctor.”
“Making insinuations now?” Collins remarked
A smile of embarrassment overcame the assistant as she broke eye contact, “Dr. Collins you are, truely, the worst.”
“What ever did I do to get you as my assistant?”
“Dr. Collins!” a voice called from down the halls, as Collins turned to witness a figure, the young man he recognized as the embassy’s secretary ran toward him.
“Yes, what is it, Howard?” Collins asked as the man stood before him.
“Hunter, sir.” he corrected.
“Right.”
“SCP-666- uh– the cyclops, is back, she came in asking about the snake Demon that was contained yesterday.” Hunter explained.
Collins sighed, “Alright I’ll come deal with her.’ He said, as he let the secretary lead the way.
Notes:
So how was it?
I really hope it lived up to expectations due to how arduous the wait was.
I’ve said it before, but chapters will be released when they are ready, I’m not giving dates anymore because I can’t guarantee them.
All I can ask for is your patience, and I thank you for giving it to me.
Otherwise if you have feedback or improvements then I’d be glad to hear it, otherwise nice words are also appreciated.
Thank you for reading.
Chapter 14: Not Exactly as planned
Summary:
Dr. Collins goals ahead with his controversial plan to make an alliance between the SCP Foundation and several of Hell’s Overlords, as a war with Valentino appears on the horizon.
Notes:
It’s finally here
I don’t really even know what to say, just that this one was a doozy to write. It’s now the new longest chapter. I don’t know why I’ve suddenly become incapable of writing shorter chapters, as they only seem to grow larger.
So without further ado, I hope you enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 14: Not exactly as planned
Perhaps Dr. Wilcox was right and this was little more than a fool’s errand. Perhaps he should have listened to his assistant and taken a break and a few more days to iron everything out. Perhaps this would all blow up in his face and mean both his and the Foundation’s place in Hell would be at an end. Indeed he could keep worrying about what he should be doing, rather Collins focused on what he was doing. The fact of the matter was that the Foundation’s position was weak, it wouldn’t be forever, but it was now and SCP-666-3-VA’s attack showed that the other powers were aware and out for blood and, considering Hell’s default hostility, they likely had more than enough muscle to get it. The longer they waited, the higher the chances that Hell’s biggest players would just stomp them out.
Due to the stakes he felt were at hand, there was a degree of determination that emanated from Collins. Efficiently clambering down from the MRAP, his list and notes firmly tucked at his side, as the rest of his team joined him. At this rate they’d become usuals at the Hazbin Hotel, as hardly anyone even blinked when they waltzed through the door and straight down the hall.
Only earning the brief eyer from Angel Dust as they passed him, “Hey Doc! So when am I gonna get my money?” The spider asked, standing just enough in their way to ensure they couldn’t ignore him.
“Within the next couple days, don’t worry, I uphold my promises.” Collins assured, attempting to move past Angel, though he only took a step to further stand in front of the Doctor.
“You know, it’s funny you say that, cause you never even asked me how much I make, so…”
“Fine, I’ll bite, how much do I owe you?” Collins relented, waiting for the spider to spit out some ludicrously large number.
“About Twenty-five thou.” Angel answered.
Collins paused for a moment, first out of surprise, then to do some quick math. “You only make around six-thousand per month? Aren’t you famous, your face is literally plastered everywhere?”
“Fame don’t mean shit… Well no, it does make it easier to get clients on the street, but to Val it means nothing. Besides, it could be worse. Believe me, that’s a decent wage when Val’s got your contract.” Abruptly the spider continued past the Doctor, abandoning the conversation, “anyway, I don’t got time for this, just get me my money an’ I’ll be happy.”
Collins turned and took a step after the Demon, “One second,” Angel didn’t stop, rather just slowing his strides slightly, “do you know where Alastor is?”
Angel laughed, “An’ here I thought I was the only one after his dick. Nah, he likes to keep his distance from me.” He answered, “Toodles, Doc.” As the spider continued on his way.
Collins lingered for a moment considering how he could approach this situation. He hadn’t even told anyone that he’d promised Angel money, let alone how much, so in theory he could pull some strings and-
“Morning Doctor.” A strained voice greeted, as Collins was pulled out of his wonder, he turned to be met with Charlie, cautiously maneuvering through one of the doors all the way at the back of the hall, in her hands around a dozen large stone plates, which she shakily balanced.
Recognizing the girl's predicament, Collins acted, “Sergeant, would you mind-“ despite the fact that she was helmeted, Collins could feel Ward roll her eyes at him.
“Three,” the Sergeant mentioned, nodding her head to the side as they both went to help Charlie, “here Princess.” She mentioned, letting her rifle hang from its sling to free up her hands, she took the top half of the plates, while Adela took the second half.
“Where do you want 'em’?”
Charlie, with her hands now free, pointed toward the bar in the center against the wall. “Just there on the counter is fine.” In seconds the two soldiers stacked the two sections of plates on top of one another on the counter. “Thanks guys.”
“What are you preparing all this stuff for anyways?” Ward asked as she and Adela returned to formation.
“Oh-“ Charlie began, a sudden glee in her tone as a bright glow filled her eyes, “So, a bit after you guys left yesterday, Vaggie and I went out for a bit and we found this girl, she was kinda destitute and just got kicked out of her apartment, but we offered her to stay and try out the program and she accepted.” She explained, literally applauding herself, her hands clapping together rapidly, as a large smile overcame her face. “I wanted to set up something special for her today, hence why I’ve had Vaggie running errands while I set some of this up.” Though her eyebrow suddenly darted up as a curiosity filled her, “I almost forgot to ask: how’s Baxter doing? Is he still being ‘processed’?”
“Technically that’s classified, but really just to prevent unauthorized personnel from discovering Demons exist.” Collins explained, “Baxter is doing well, I believe. Dr. Wilcox agreed that he has potential, processing has finished, and he is currently undergoing a preliminary interview, which is being conducted by my assistant, it’s just to gather background info, basic question and answer. After which he’ll have a more in depth interview with me, perhaps one with Dr. Wilcox, then everything will be presented to our superiors and they will decide on if, where, and how Baxter will serve the SCP Foundation. If my word counts for anything, it’ll be ‘yes’, ‘down here’, and ‘assisting us in understanding this world’.”
“That’s good,” Charlie reacted, a slight somber was in her tone though she displayed none of it physically, “I was kinda starting to get worried I’d never see him again, he wasn’t in the hotel that long before he went with you.”
“I always felt kind of bad that we took him so suddenly.” Collins admitted, “then again he was practically jumping to join us, I doubt he’d have taken ‘no’ for an answer. All in all, I’m sure he’ll contribute greatly in safeguarding humanity.”
“Anyway-“ Charlie mentioned, moving onto the next topic in question, “kind of rude of me, but never asked why you were here today.”
“We’re here for Alastor.” Collins answered simply.
Charlie visibly gritted her teeth as she stared at the researcher with a certain panic, “And you need him for what, exactly?” She asked nervously.
“I’ll tell you what little I can.” Collins prefaced, hoping it would suffice in deterring questions. “The embassy was attacked recently, injuring Foundation personnel, we need to know that our convoys and personnel outside of the embassy are safe, hence I’ve assembled a list of overlords who may be willing to work out agreements with us. I would like Alastor to corroborate and fill in anything I may have missed.”
With obvious concern still clearly present on her face, there was a slight tinge of surprise as though she was expecting something worse. “Gosh I hope they recover quickly. I’ve seen those trucks though, what are all those convoys anyways?”
“That’s classified.” Collins stated, he was willing to reveal a lot to the Princess, but the construction of, and especially the location of Site-727 was certainly not one of them. The fact that Dr. Greyson even mentioned the site in proximity of the Princess was already surprising. Its existence was the absolute limit that she could know of.
“Of course.” Charlie sighed, none of her anxieties being soothed in any way, “If you’re Absolutely insistent on ‘dealing’ with Alastor, then you’ll probably find him in his radio tower, all the way at the top of the building. Just please be very careful, you’ve already had one run in with him…” Charlie cautioned.
“I’ll make sure we won’t have another.” Collins confirmed.
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‘Find him’ was a very optimistic assumption from Charlie, as the soldiers and researcher had a hard enough time just getting to the tacked-on radio tower. The building was so cobbled together that elevators and stairs were often inconsistent and had to be switched between in order to get to these added structures that were attached to the central body of the hotel. It became clear early on that marching six men through this maze in formation wasn’t particularly efficient or even practical. Hence Collins made the realization that he should continue on his own while the rest waited downstairs. Such a suggestion was immediately countered by Ward over obvious protocol and safety violations, not that five extra men would be any help in a fight against Alastor anyway. Therefore it would just be the Sergeant and the Doctor heading up while the rest meandered in the lobby.
Leaving the others behind was soon rewarded, as once they reached the connecting point between the radio tower and the hotel they found that not only was connected by a few rickety steel girders but the only way up and in was through an equally suspicious series of ladders that ran along them. Truly the hotel was an architectural marvel for the mere fact that it hadn’t crumbled already.
Once the two had navigated what became an increasingly difficult path, Collins and Ward were able to clamber inside of the small room through a hatch in the floor. Within it was a mess of transmitters and tuning devices, scripts were scattered across the floor, as a small collection of vintage house radios sat in the corner, while red glass pains lined the walls giving a view over the city. Centrally there was a consol, papers strewn about, as the red deer sat before it, his staticky voice flowing into an old spring microphone, hosting a radio show of some sort, as his eyes suddenly darted toward the pair of Foundation members.
“Well darlings, it seems I’ve conjured up some visitors. The show will resume soon- unless you’d like to say a few words, Doctor.” Alastor suggested, sliding the humming microphone across towards Collins.
“Shut that thing off Alastor, we need to talk.” Collins replied bluntly.
Appearing disappointed, Alastor pulled the radio back before himself. “Well folks, he’s in no entertaining mood today, so that’ll be it for now. I won’t be gone long, so don’t let those smiles go anywhere, after all you’re never fully dressed without one, and I bid you all adieu~” Alastor reached over on his consol, pressing a handful of buttons, presumably shutting the microphone down as the mild hum ceased, as a second later some old time-y swing began softly playing on the broadcast. “Now then, Doctor, if you’ve dragged yourself all the way up here, then I’m sure you have something interesting for me.”
“Speaking of which-“ Collins prefaced, “do you really climb up all that junk just to get up here?”
Alastor laughed a laugh of humiliation, as if the researcher just asked him one of the stupidest questions he’d heard. “Oh please, Dr. Collins my dear friend-“ He rose from his seat, “did you really forget that I could do this?” He asked, before disappearing in a puff of putrid black smoke and reappearing on the opposite side of the room.
“Right…” Collins sighed. “Good for privacy I presume.”
“Certainly.” Alastor puffed away again and reappeared before Collins, “Now, there was something you needed me for?”
“Well-“ Collins began, insecurity dense in his voice as he began second guessing his own plan. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the attack on the embassy, which has made it clear our position in Hell is no longer being tolerated. Using our limited databases, I’ve gathered a list of some who may be interested in some mutual benefits.” He explained, pulling a sheet of paper from the folder tucked under his arm as he passed it over to the radio demon. “With your greater experience, it would be appreciated if you could provide extra info on some of these individuals.”
Alastor scanned over the list, his expression changing slightly with each name he read, a raised eyebrow here, a sly smirk there, all the while he muttered quiet comments to himself. Finally he lowered the list and turned back to Collins, still giving that familiar smile. “These are certainly some interesting characters you've picked out, some logical, others quite optimistic.” He rose from his chair, taking gradual paces towards the Doctor, “However there are some I can help with, I suppose…” he added, a slight tone of mischief as he eyed Collins, “Well, why don’t we go introduce ourselves?” He asked dramatically, not wasting the slightest second to even wait for Collins response as the Demon grabbed him around the wrist.
Ward, noting the sudden move, went to raise her weapon, “Hey! Back-“ she shouted, though before she could finish the words the room filled with an almost deafening noise of static, bright red demonic symbols seemingly appearing out of thin air, as they hovered and surrounded Alastor and Collins. A flash later and everything went silent, a misty black fog replacing the Demon and the Doctor as both appeared to have vanished. “-off…” Ward was left aghast, frantically pointing her rifle around the room as if some sort of ambush or trap was about to be sprung, yet all was silent, all was calm. “Dr. Collins?” She asked, somehow expecting the air to answer, “How the- shit!” She cursed, snapping her hand to the radio pinned to her chest. “Three, we’ve got an emergency, I need you to lock down the building and gather up the residents, no one in or out. I’ll be down soon.”
“Christ, Two-face, what the fuck happened?” The radio barked back as it transmitted the distorted voice of Adela.
“Get on long range and contact command back at the Embassy, we lost a PA.” She ordered, “Dr. Collins is gone.”
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Everything seemed to be spinning, as the whole world turned upside down. Nothing could be seen apart from white noise TV static accompanied by the constant screech of radio static. Occasionally interrupted by flashes of distorted red images, reality itself seemed to have ceased existing. Then it ended. By the time Collins had even processed what was happening, it was already over. Static replaced with silence.
Letting go of Collins’ wrist, Alastor stood back, humming quietly to himself, as the Doctor continued to comprehend everything that had happened. As Collins glared around frantically, trying to understand where he was. A red stained window to one side, perpendicular to rows of plant beds and pots growing various Earth-adjacent flora, appearing similar to their overground counterparts yet off in several ways. Wherever they were, the room was noticeably warmer and warmly colored, with fluorescent lamps lining the ceiling.
“No…” Collins reacted suddenly, returning to reality, “no, no, no, no, No! Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” He asked, scrambling for his radio, as Collins nervously began pacing as he tuned it to his team’s frequency. “Xi-1-2 can you hear me?” He asked into the device, though the reply contained nothing but static. “Dammit, two don’t do this to me.” He pleaded, spotting a door to the side of the room, which Collins barreled through, ending up on a cobblestone street, with hell’s red sky now above him. “Two? Come in Two-face.” He repeated, “Can anyone from MTF Xi-1 hear me?” He asked in one desperate final plea, though dread soon permeated as static flowed over the line once again.
“Well, that was not quite the reaction I expected.” A static voice said from over Collins’ shoulder.
“Disappointed?” Collins asked, a building rage in his tone as he violently turned towards the deer hovering beside him.
“Oh not at all, my dear friend, it was really quite entertaining to see the fear build up and the hope drain.”
Collins chuckled in disbelief, “Entertaining? You really don’t have a clue of what you’ve just fucking done, have you?” Collins began pacing again as if he were trying to cope with everything that was transpiring. “You have just kidnapped one of the primary researchers down here, who works for the most secretive organization on the plant, travels around with an armed escort twenty-four-seven, and you don’t see anything fucking wrong with that!” Collins felt his hands balled into fists on their own, as he faced the Radio demon who seemed both aloof and disinterested at the same time. “You need to take me back, right now.”
“But we’ve only just arrived.” Alastor complained.
“Just ar-“ Collins repeated, a certain astonishment in his tone, as Alastor seemingly ignored everything he’d just said. Then again it wasn’t unlike him to toy around even in a situation like this. “What the fuck is the matter with you? Do you have any idea how this throws everything I’ve been working towards in the dumpster? You’re putting any further cooperation with Charlie and the hotel in jeopardy!”
“What were you working towards?” Alastor asked, a concerningly innocent tone emerging from between the radio static and the everlasting smile.
Collins’ fists began to tremble as he clutched them together with increasing magnitudes of force. “You are such a— listen, I’ve been protecting you people since almost the very beginning. The only way that the Foundation would ever let me get as close to any of you as I’ve gotten is through concrete reassurance that I have your cooperation and that none of you are a direct threat to us. I’ve played you all down in my report as heavily as I can, I never even reported your little fiasco during my late drive home. Because if it gets out that you somehow knew exactly where I was on earth and teleported to me, not only are they not going to let me get anywhere near any of you, I guarantee you that you’ll get bumped way higher up on the containment list, and my replacement will not be as kind as I am. Right now the Sergeant is almost certainly contacting her superiors to request reinforcements and to tell them I’ve been kidnapped-“
As Collins ranted and raved, there were some things beyond his control and his knowledge. His anger kept him from really analyzing his environment, caused him to forget that he wasn’t under guard anymore, and certainly ensured that he didn’t notice the glint of predatory eyes and sharp teeth lurking in his shadow.
“Which is why it’s crucial that we get the fuck back there right now!” Collins yelled in finality, as Alastor still remained unphased. “Did you listen to anything I just said?”
Without answering Alastor looked to the side, peering over his shoulder, his intuition serving him well as he noticed the small gremlin-esque creature lurking, though its small beady eyes certainly weren’t focused on him. Losing its patience, the little creature emerged, lunging up with small sharp claws towards the Human as it appeared fixated on Dr. Collins, who jumped, had no means to defend himself. Just as quickly, Alastor gave the being a quick thwack with the end of his cane, causing to stumble as scamper away and back into the shadows from whence it came.
“The fuck was that?” Collins asked with a panicked tone, as he hugged the wall of whatever establishment they were previously in, desperately trying to find some semblance of safety.
“Oh, that was just one of the little gremlins that roams the streets here, they’re nothing.” Alastor casually explained.
“Where is ‘here’ exactly anyways?” Collins asked, only now fully analyzing his surroundings as he failed to recognize any building nor streets of the little of Hell he was familiar with. Curiously the surrounding area appeared more dingy, though not through being run down or dirty, more through how isolated it felt. The usual sea of people that populated Hell’s streets had narrowed down to a trickle, and the few passerby that there were shared a concerningly similar disposition to Alastor. All smiles yet no emotion.
“Oh why we’re in my own little backyard, where I first fell, my personal little slice of Hell-“ Alastor smile only grew as he built up to his dramatic reveal, “yes indeedy, we’re in the midst of the most fashionable and sharp-tongued of all of Hell’s denizens, we’re in the Cannibal Sector!” He announced with glee in his tone, throwing his arms up presentatively as if he was displaying the area’s greatness. Yet Collins shared little of his enthusiasm, seemingly trying to slink away and protectively compact himself like a turtle. “Would you like to go back inside now?”
“Y-yea, yes, that would be best.”
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Despite remembering the route back well enough, the sheer layout of the hotel still meant it took a couple minutes before Ward was back on the ground floor. Though her orders hadn’t caused outright chaos yet, it certainly seemed to be treading along that path. The few soldiers of MTF Xi-1 she’d brought with her were barking orders and shouting, as they had managed to secure Charlie and Nifty, containing them to the couch lining the side of the hall under the threat of gunpoint. Though one was nearly unreadable due to constant energy, the concern and panic on Charlie’s face were more than evident.
“Two!” Adela called, beckoning over the Sergeant as soon as she emerged, “The fuck happened to the Doc?”
“Don’t know, Alastor just grabbed him and they were both gone.” She explained, not missing a beat as she immediately took control of the situation, “standing order: so long as everyone’s cooperating, weapons are kept low. Has Seven gotten through to the Embassy yet?”
“Negative, he’s working on it.”
Ward turns toward Charlie, launching one quick question towards her, “Is there anyone else in the hotel?”
Charlie struggled to answer for a moment, everything seemed to fall apart almost instantly, apart from their first meeting, none of the soldiers had been outwardly hostile toward her, at least not directly, generally being friendly and even protecting them. Now it was as though a switch had been flicked and it didn’t seem like any of them even hesitated. “C-Crymini is still in her room.” She finally muttered as a response.
“Right, the new one, what room number?”
“219-“ Charlie responded snappishly, realizing the apparent urgency though not exactly why. “But, Two-Face what’s-?”
She went ignored as Ward turned back to Adela, “Three, Four, get her down here, alive, I’m not leaving any loose ends.”
“W-wait, Two-“ Charlie attempted to draw the Sergeant’s attention again.
“Sergeant!” The soldier fiddling with the radio called, “I’m not getting a clear signal, could be the buildings are causing too much interference.”
“Get it to the roof, hook it up the radio transmitter up there if you have to.” Ward ordered, “patch me through as soon as you get a single to the Embassy.”
“Two-“ Charlie stated meekly as everything seemed to further devolve around her.
“What if the entity won’t cooperate?” Adela asked, just before she and Françoi were about to set out.
“Then make her… gently, no permanent damage, but I want her down here.”
“T-“ Charlie mumbled hardly even able to get the worse out of her mouth anymore, yet she clenched a fist as her frustration mounted.
Ward continued spouting orders, “Six, you’re staying with me for now, as soon as three and four are back, I want you to get on the front door, no one’s-“
“Dammit, will you just listen to me, Ward!” Charlie yelled in a sudden burst of frustration, before covering her mouth with her hands, realizing her own mistake, though it was long too late.
The rushing around suddenly ceased, as all the soldiers suddenly stopped and stared, first at Charlie, before each gradually turning toward their own Sergeant, as Ward gradually became the center of attention.
Her heart jumped into her throat, choking up the words as she stopped shouting order. Her own shock and panic caused her to stop and freeze, with her eyes focusing on the Princess. For all she knew, after today, it’d be the end of her time down here. After that, god knows what’d happen, maybe just a slap on the wrist and transfer of assignments, maybe she could say goodbye to working for the Foundation all together. Until then, however, they had work to do. “The Hell are you all fucking looking at? You have your orders people, get to it!” She yelled, an effective nudge for the soldiers as they quickly returned to their assignments. Sgt. Ward lingered a moment longer, seeing Charlie mouth ‘sorry’ at her, before moving on herself.
Once everyone was underway, the chaos settled down. Ward herself stands by the opposing wall from the entities, her and Sandman watching over them, though her mind was hardly focused on monitoring the Demons. Running scenario after scenario through her head, each one ending with her getting fired. Internally she hoped that she was just being pessimistic. Despite it all, an easy silence fell over the hall, only interrupted by the mild chatter between Niffty and Charlie talking amongst themselves, though Ward could sense the ire and distress in every word that came from the Princess’ mouth.
“Miss Charlie, why are the soldiers being so mean all of a sudden?” Nifty asked, in fair honesty, “I was told they were supposed to be friendly. Ugh, three-fourteen and fifteen are never gonna get clean at this rate.”
“You don’t have to worry about those, it’s not like we have any people to put in them anyways.” Charlie replied somberly.
“It’s about the principle.” Niffty insisted.
Whatever peace there was, was broken up as high pitched angry yells, clear calls of anger and distress followed by the struggling grunts of fighting. The dread in Charlie’s face became instantly apparent. Soon enough, Adela and Alphonse marched back into the room, both letting their weapons hang from their slings, as their hands were preoccupied with keeping the entities hands and arms restrained, as they marched it over to the others. The creature writhing between their arms appeared to be a shorter feminine being. She was covered in white fur dotted with pink freckles just under her eyes, which were outlined with a grey stripe Akins to a hyena. Dressed like a 90s era punk rocker, she completed the look with a large blond and pink mohawk cresting her head, flanked on either side by a pair of large ears.
“Let the fuck go of me! You shiny assholes!” It yelled, almost foaming at the mouth as she continued to fruitlessly struggle against it. “The fuck Charlie?! Who the hell are these cunts?!”
Charlie jumped from her seat, instinctively rushing to help, though she had no idea how. “I thought you said you’d be gentle with her!” The sound of a rifle bolt charging from across the room was enough to make her stop, as Sandman, though not directly pointing it at her, held his weapon aloft.
“This is gentile.” Ward reaffirmed her tone totally monotone and lacking emotion, as simple smooth professionalism took over.
“Yea, she wasn’t cooperative.” Adela added, stating the obvious. She and Alphonse marched the demon forward till she was at the edge of the area that the hotel’s other residents were being kept. “Alright, careful, we’re gonna set you down now.” She prefaced, as she and the medic gradually began to tilt the Demon forward, forcing her down till she was face-first against the ground. “Alright, you can go, French boy, I’ll take her from here.”
“Do -NOT- call me that.” Alphonse demanded, gradually handing over the restrained Demon’s arms to the Specialist. “Ce nom vaut mieux ne pas coller.” He mumbled to himself, as he left and joined the Sergeant’s side.
Holding the demon’s arms with her hands, Adela knelt on the back of Crymini’s calves, effectively immobilizing her as she continued to struggle. “Alright, listen real carefully. There are half-a-dozen armed soldiers in this room, if you don’t cooperate, attack anyone, or try to run, they will shoot you. Do you understand?”
“Fuck you.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Adela replied, tightening her grip as the demon began struggling more.
“This is ridiculous!” Charlie yelled, “you’re hurting her, she’s no threat to you.”
“We are being cautious.” Adela emphasized, “she’s got sharp fucking nails back here, and wasn’t afraid to show them off after we knocked on her door.” She explained before returning her attention to Crymini. “Listen, I don’t want to sit here and hold you forever-“
“Then why don't you let go, you fucking cock-bag! I’ll show you my fucking claws!”
“Not until you relax and stop struggling.” Adela warned, keeping a firm hold of the demon as Crymini struggled for a minute longer, gradually petering out till she lay still on the ground. The Demon was still tense but unmoving. “Good. Now, I’m going to let go and get off of you, I’m going to count off from five, after five seconds, you may get up. Do you understand?” Adela asked, as the Demon gave no response. “Alright I’m letting go now, don’t move.” After a moment's hesitation, the soldier took her hands off, hovering in place for a moment, waiting for the demon to make a move. Surprisingly it did not. “Alright-“ she continued, standing and taking her knee off Crymini’s legs, “five, four, three, two, one.” She counted off, giving her more than enough time to create distance and have her hands comfortably back on her weapon.
Crymini waited another beat after the soldier finished counting before gradually proving herself up and rising to her feet. Standing face to face with Charlie, “once I’ve got my shit together, I’m getting the fuck out of this place.” She stated before storming off, leaving Charlie disappointed and aghast in her wake.
“Two, line’s patched up, got contact with embassy.” Ward’s radio buzzed, as she quickly snapped her hand to it.
“Put me through.” She ordered, waiting for the frequencies on her dials to adjust as the noise emanating from the radio gradually became less garbled. “Embassy, this Xi-1-2, we lost our assigned PA, repeat, Priority Asset is missing, we have the area locked down and are requesting assistance in relocation.”
“Xi-1-2, Sergeant…” a tired, almost bored, sounding voice responded from the other end. “It’s on record that your PA was Dr. Collins… Sergeant please confirm that you lost Dr. Collins.”
“Affirmative.”
“Well… that’s new-“ the operator responded, sounding a mix of baffled and concerned. “Xi-1-2, I’m sending you a squad of reinforcements, I’ll get a runner underway to get this to the Administrator. In the meantime, keep the area secure, and have your guy boost my signal, let’s see if we can’t give the Doctor’s radio a ping.”
“Understood.” Ward replied, taking a moment to change her frequency back before depressing the button once more, “Seven you got all that?”
“Yup, I’ll work my magic on it.” The radio buzzed back.
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Despite being safe and back inside of the flower shop, or whatever twisted version of a flower shop this counted for, Collins needed a moment. The combination of stress, due to both the situation and it’s potential aftermath, alongside having a ‘gremlin’, as Alastor called it, leaping at his face, was enough to mentally drain him for the moment. As seemingly everything that could go wrong had. Part of him was starting to wonder if he should just forget about it and focus on gathering info, fingers crossed it would be enough to convince Wilcox to look the other way. Again.
As Collins felt a buzz come from his radio he practically jumped, suddenly rejuvenated as everything just might still be fixable. He jammed the button down, speaking before whoever had called him could even introduce themselves. “Sergeant, thank god, ok listen, I’m fine, nothing happened, there’s no need-“
“Dr. Collins?” The operator’s voice crackled over the speaker, only sounding just audible enough to understand. Collins’ heart sank as everything could in fact no longer be fixed. “I just spoke to Xi-1-2, where on Earth- in Hell, are you? My math is rusty, but the reedings say that you’re well over thirty kilometers away from Xi-1-2, you’re almost out of range of your team’s long-range.”
His mind scrambled for something to say that would dismiss the situation or prevent this from going any further. The reality of it was, however, that if the Embassy was calling him, then Wilcox almost certainly already knew, or would soon find out. “Is Dr. Wilcox at the embassy?” Collins asked, at this point just wishing to know if it would all be as bad as he was imagining.
“Negative, a runner was just dispatched to inform him.”
At the very least his next lecture was delayed for a while. “When Wilcox gets down here repeat what I am about to say verbatim: I am perfectly safe and have stumbled onto something with great potential, SCP-666-3-AL has taken me to meet with several of the individuals on my list, I can hash out deals now and push our timetable forward by weeks. Got all that?” Collins finished.
“I will tell the Administrator… that.” The operator affirmed. “However, Doctor, you have no MTFs with you, you’re going well past Foundation protocol, and we have no way of ensuring your safety.”
Collins was unable to hold in a slight chuckle, “I’m with SCP-666-3-AL, he can provide more than enough security. Which he will, after all despite how powerful he is I’m sure even he wouldn’t want a Foundation hit squad after him.” Collins glanced at Alastor, who still remained as unimpressed as ever though the raised brow and the slight cock of his head was enough to know that he heard. “Believe me, I’ll be fine.” He reaffirmed.
“If you say so, Doctor, this is all very unorthodox.”
“Can you put me through to Xi-1-2 please, I would like to speak with her.” Collins requested, receiving no response though noticing slight changes in the frequency of the buzzing that came over the radio.
“Dr. Collins?” Ward’s voice asked, still sounding staticy, however was mildly clearer compared to the embassy operator. “Where are you?”
“I don’t-“ Collins paused, noticing another figure approach; a tall woman, with a wide brimmed hat and hollow black eyes, waltzed up to Alastor, each giving the other a curt nod before staring at him once more. As if Alastor alone wasn’t enough . He turned his back towards the demons and refocused on the conversation, “Somewhere, I don’t know, I’ll figure it out.” Though he did, to a degree, explaining this ‘cannibal sector’ over the radio wasn’t high on his list of priorities. “Listen, considering the embassy called, I’m assuming you followed protocol to a t.”
“It's my job, sir.”
“Meaning you also locked down the hotel?”
“Yes.”
Collins sighed, it wouldn’t matter if Wilcox let him go back to the hotel if Charlie didn’t want them there. “You’re the one on the ground Sergeant, so I trust that you will do what is best, please just remember how important our relationship with the princess is.”
“It’s been at the top of my mind, sir.”
“I trust you Sergeant, in any case, I will be seeing my work here through. I’ll buzz in every twenty minutes or so, so you’ll know that I’m ok.” Collins explained.
“We’ll be here when you return, sir.” Ward affirmed.
With that, Collins let off his radio, leaving the hotel in Sgt. Ward’s hands as he predicted that his own would be full enough soon. To say that his heart skipped a beat as he turned back would be an understatement, Collins could feel his heart actively stop for longer than it should have, as he was greeted by a pair of grinning sets of teeth accompanied by narrow red and black eyes, as the pair of demons continued to stare at him, though now from mere inches away. Instinctively he took a step back, fight or flight, primarily just flight, responses kicking in. Amusing the demons as the woman’s smile broadened, meanwhile Alastor actively let out a chuckle.
“Well I- um… hi- you two are -close…” Collins stuttered, words getting caught in his throat as his instincts and rationale told him to do different things.
“I don’t remember humans being this pathetic.” The woman stated, straightening herself out to tower over Collins and Alastor.
“This one usually isn’t.” Alastor hummed, retracting his face likewise, as the Doctor’s personal space was once again his own. “Then again, without his doughboys to protect him he becomes rather skittish.”
“And you really think they offer something of worth?” The woman asked, tilting her brow towards Alastor, implying some prior arrangements.
“Believe me, they’re better than the vast majority of the rabble down here, dear.” Yet the woman’s expression still implied suspicion and disappointment. “Come now darling I’d never lead you wrong, our business ventures together in the past always proved fruitful, I was right about Franklin after all, wasn’t I?” Alastor cocked an eye back towards Collins, seemingly knowing full well what he suggested, and certainly acknowledging the slight motion from Collins’ head, as the Doctor took a brief double-take. “Don’t worry, Doctor, I don’t mean you, she was just some dead weight that was being carried along for far too long.”
“I suppose, I’m willing to see where this goes, worse comes to worse I’ve got some old recipes that I’ll finally have the opportunity to try again.” In what was the woman’s first full acknowledgement of him, she briefly scanned over Collins, a slight smirk coming to her, before turning back to Alastor again. “My, have you been terribly rude, you haven’t even introduced us yet.”
“But of course!” Alastor regaled, a sudden energy coming to him, as he hopped over to Collins side, holding out an arm for him to move forwards. “Doctor-“
Despite his lack of understanding of anything that was happening, Collins wasn’t exactly in the position to back out. “I am Dr. Franklin Collins of the SCP Foundation.” He announced, taking a slight step forward.
The woman pleated her dress as she knelt formally, “Madame Roseline Morgan Edwards, of Hell, though you may just call me Rosie.” Raising one arm, Rosie held out her hand, daintily holding it in front of the Doctor.
Collins looked at it, unsure of whether or not he was supposed to do something. Then it clicked: she expected him to kiss her hand, an overly formal and old-fashioned greeting. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible, with all of this-“ Collins pointed to the helmet covering his head.
Rosie’s smile disappeared, a pouty frown of disappointment replacing it, “Non-formal and impolite, truly Alastor, dear, you have lost it.” She gave a slight glare towards Alastor, before the two stared at one another for a moment, as if they knew exactly what the other was thinking and could commune without speaking. “Come come now, I have tea waiting in the back. For your sake, Doctor, I do hope that what you bring to the table is greater than your manners.”
Alastor didn’t skip a beat in following after her, a giddiness in his motions. Dr. Collins, with some reluctance soon did as well, ever more hesitant, despite the promise he’d initially predicted.
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Having now heard his voice and been given new orders, Ward theoretically didn’t have to worry about it anymore. Just follow orders and whatever happens is out of her hands. If Collins was with anyone other than Alastor she might have just followed through with that exact plan. Then again what was she to do? With the Doctor’s apparent willingness in being kidnapped, there was truly nothing that she could do. At least not directly.
Ward switched channels on her radio, “Seven, you think you can triangulate the Doc’s position?” She asked.
“I don’t know… it’ll take a while, and I’m gonna need help from command.” The soldier buzzed back.
“Embassy, can you assist?”
“Affirmative Sergeant.” The operator confirmed, “Though you are acting independently from the Doctor’s orders.”
“Standing objective of protecting him overrides anything else,” Ward said, repeating and referring to those same old protocols that led them here to begin with. “Besides he ordered me to stay put, nothing about the second squad you were sending us. Have them on standby and ready to get the Doc when you’ve located him.”
“Very well, Sergeant, your reinforcements have been canceled. We’ll notify you once we’ve found Dr. Collins.”
“Copy, Embassy, I’ll continue to handle things down here.” Ward replied, satisfied that at least someone would be looking out for Collins. Now the other matter, the lockdown of the hotel. Shutting her radio off, Ward marched to the center of the hall, “Alright, listen up!” She shouted, drawing the attention of both her men and the residents, “We’re stuck here until Dr. Collins is returned safely. I doubt that any of the remaining residents have any involvement in the kidnapping of the Doctor, therefore I’m lightening the lockdown. Sentries will remain on the doors, nobody comes in or goes out, otherwise they are free to roam the first floor under constant observation. Questions?” She asked, scanning the room from the members of Mjolnir to the hotel’s residents. The room remained silent. “Squad dismissed.” It seemed a massive sigh of relief erupted from the hall itself as an instant relief of tension overcame everyone.
It took mere moments for the hotel’s residents to disperse from their small space along the couch: Crymini raced off to find her own corner of seclusion, small round earbuds visible in the Demon’s large ears, her intent to isolate herself from the world more than clear; Niffty immediately began tracing after the boot prints left around the hall by the soldiers, some barely even visible human eyes, though whatever enhanced vision she had detected enough for her to begin sweeping up; Charlie, looking most relieved yet also discouraged of all, lumbered her way back into the kitchen, presumably to continue with whatever preparations she was undertaking since they first arrived.
Despite the fact that some of the Demons didn’t have eyes on them, Ward knew that it didn’t really matter, none of them were involved in what happened. She just has to maintain order, authority, and follow protocol. Easier said than done . Ward left everyone to their business, dragging herself over to the bar in the center of the hall, where she propped herself up on one of the stools. Treating the seal off her helmet, she removed it, the light gleaming off her glass eye as she placed her helmet on the bar counter. Despite the ‘cooling’ under suit that was supposed to keep them comfortable, she could still feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead. It was at this moment she realized she wasn’t alone, the cat, Husk, seated behind the bar, with his head buried in his arms, laying on the counter, quietly purring to himself, completely forgotten about. Ward chuckled to herself, expecting nothing less. Fumbling behind the many pouches on her belt, she reached for her canteen, unlatching it from its holder and unscrewing the cap she took a quick drink of cool water.
“You’d think that they’d manage to put camelbacks or drinking tubes into these suits, what with the thousands of dollars that went into developing them.” A voice mentioned, as Adela walked up and took the stool beside Ward.
Finishing her drink before responding, she still lacked energy in her tone, “Well, we borrowed them from Epsilon-9, they’re not meant to be worn this much.”
“Yea, well-“ Adela continued, pulling the seal on her own helmet before removing it and placing it on the counter beside the Sergeant’s, “at least we have an excuse to take them off every once in a while.”
Ward hummed in an agreement, saying little else, staring off into space, consumed by her thoughts during this period of downtime.
“You know-“ Adela continued, switching topics as she was unwilling to let the silence permeate, “I feel bad for the kid.”
“What, the one you shoved to the ground?”
“I was doing what I had to,” she justified, an excuse that rolled off the tongue far too easily for just about everyone within the SCP Foundation. “Still though, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, probably didn’t even know we existed, probably still doesn’t even know who we are.”
“You can say the same about most of the entities we’ve gotten involved with.” Ward added.
“Yea but- I don’t know, it just feels different. Something about her dejection, it just hit me different.” Adela explained, as Ward continued to listen patiently, adding little to the conversation as a whole, to a degree that it became noteworthy to her companion. Adela shot a sidewards glance at the Sergeant, an abject stare of neutrality that seemed so uncharacteristic of her. “You alright, Two?”
“Honestly, I don’t know, Pole.” She admitted, “I’ve just been mulling it all over, trying to figure out how people- and well Sarge- is going to react to it. I mean, I take the squad over and something like -this- happens?”
“Come on, you don’t think he’ll react that badly do you?” Adela asked, in a manner that implied the absurdity of it. “You and him are the oldest members of this team. Besides you know none of us would rat on you, he’d never even have to find out. I mean who gives a shit, so what? some entity knows your name.”
“Yea, but the more time between the act and the confession, the worse shit I’ll be in. He’ll learn eventually, and so will the rest of the higher ups, it’s what they’ll do that I’m scared of.”
“You’re overthinking it.” Adela stated flatly, “There’s no way that Sarge, or the Administrator, or anyone is going to punish you that harshly for something this small. I mean, look at the Doc, he’s done all kinds of way worse shit and gotten off the hook. Worse case scenario, ask him, I’m sure he’ll find some loophole or exemption that’ll get this off of you.”
Ward continued to look ahead sternly, clearly unconvinced, though briefly looked back and made eye contact with Adela. “We’ll see, I know he’s fast and loose with protocol, just not to a degree that I ever was.”
A sharp crackle coming from Ward’s radio drew both of their attention, “Xi-1-2, this is 1-1, respond.”
“Speak of the devil.” Adela mentioned, jumping off the stool as their break appeared to be over, she went to rest Retrieve her helmet.
Ward grabbed her helmet, needing to respond sooner rather than later, “You know I’m not gonna stop thinking about it, but- thanks, Three.” Adela, with her helmet and suit now resealed, gave Ward a brisk two finger salute, before leaving the Sergeant to her business. Ward took a deep breath before placing her helmet back on and switching to her radio, “1-1 this is 1-2, what do you need me for Sarge?”
“Status report, sergeant, I barely got in today and already got reports up the ass. How on earth did you lose the doc?” Butler asked, his accent thicker than usual, as a clear indication of frustration came through.
“Ugh, 3-Al.” Ward admitted, figuring no further elaboration was needed.
“Go figure, never did like that guy.” Butler commented, “I saw you sent your reinforcements back, are you certain you don’t need them?” He asked with the tone of an overprotective parent.
Ward paused for a moment, taking note of the Captain’s strange fluctuations in tone, “No, c’mon Sarge, you saw the residents, outside of ‘him’ the rest are practically harmless.”
“Alright, alright…” he mentioned quietly, sounding more as though he was reassuring himself rather than acknowledging what Ward said. “How are you doing, Two? How are the guys?”
Once again, Ward paused, unsure of how to answer. It was unusually casual for a call of this nature. Nevertheless, she took a quick glance around the room, most of the soldiers simply hanging around, all still ready to fight though none particularly on edge. Adela was actually making her way towards Crymini, who had curled herself into a ball as she sat against one of the walls. Whatever peace there was would hopefully last. Lastly the question of: should I tell him , jumped to mind. “They’re- fine, I’m fine, there hasn’t been any major problems since Collins’ been kidnapped.”
“Right, right-“ he muttered, again more self reassuring than anything. “Sorry, I wasn’t in when everything went down, I was handling some -things- topside.”
“Are you a good Sarge?” Ward asked, recognizing that there was more going on. “You sound kinda off kilter.”
“Yea, I’m good.” He quickly reaffirmed, “just got a lot going on.”
“Oh no, I’m not taking that for an answer. We basically started Mjolnir-3, you’re not keeping this from me, no matter how much they promote you.”
“No, it’s unprofessional and can wait, besides I don’t wanna dump this stuff on you while you’re on assignment.” Butler excused.
“Ugh, you’re starting to sound like those Alpha-1 spooks, ‘professional’. As if we ever followed regulation that closely.” She disregarded, reading straight through whatever excuse he could give. “Besides, I got nothing going on anyway, just stuck here till the Doc is rescued, can hardly call that an ‘assignment’.”
“You’re sure?” Butler asked, though he already knew the answer. “Ugh, alright.” His tone mellowed out as he continued, “I got a call before I was able to come down, it was so-“ he sighed, the realization that he wouldn’t be able to delay the inevitable anymore. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to break this to you, and, well, everyone. Guess this is as good as any. I got a call from medical because the kid, Devis, passed this morning..”
Impossible was the first word that came to mind, after all she’d seen him not so long ago, she and everyone else from Mjolnir-3 went to visit. Coma or not, the Foundation had the most advanced medical equipment in the world, with drugs that weren’t even known to most of humanity, one would think that being in the Foundation’s care would guarantee survival. Then again, being in the Foundation’s employ never guaranteed that. Ward again quickly glanced at her comrades in the room, nothing had changed, all were still just sitting back, Adela had actually gotten Crymini to talk to her. Her heart seemed to almost stop as she began to second guess her first thought. The initial thought of not believing it till she saw it quickly diminished as Butler’s word seemed damning enough. Ward moved toward one corner of the room, further away from everyone, secluding herself with the knowledge. She leaned back into her radio, yet the words got caught in her throat forcing her to pause an extra beat before responding. “That can’t be, medical said he was stable a few days ago. W-what happened?”
“We don’t know yet, medical is still investigating, everything from sepsis to blood rejection is being thrown around, but nothing concrete…” His tone petered out as the regret soon set in, “Dammit, I’m sorry two, I shouldn’t have-“ he grumbled, “are you alright?”
Ward needed time, waiting a solid ten seconds as everything raced through her mind, “Yeah, well, I- I um- ah fuck… I knew that someone would die under my command eventually, I just didn’t think it’d be like this.”
“No, no, that’s not right, it was out of your hands, besides it was under me he got injured to begin with.”
“I know, I’m just trying to figure out how to break this to everyone else.” She admitted, gazing back at her comrades once again, something that made her feel increasingly paranoid.
“Otherwise, just leave it to me, I’ll debrief everyone once you guys get back, see if I can’t get you and the boys a few days leave.” Butler proposed.
“Yeah, yeah, that might be best.” She agreed, “I, um, I just need some time to think right now.”
“Of course, I guess I’ll leave you be then.” Butler said awkwardly, regret clear in his muttered words before the hun of the radio abruptly cut out.
Ward let her mind go slack for a while, mindlessly staring into the distance, grateful that her face was covered as she no longer had the control necessary to hide every emotion, nor did she want to. Everything felt gross, she felt like getting into a hot shower and never coming out again. She had seen people die before and lost closer friends, however she believed Devis to have been safe, in good hands, inevitable to recover, with all concern cast from her mind, which made the shock hit ever harder. In reflection the same seemed true from Butler, his voice unable to keep a steady tone, which was unsurprising, as she already knew that he would take any death from Mjolnier-3 hard. But she was in Hell. It seemed like there was so much more she should be able to do. Devis certainly wasn’t the devil, though he had certainly done things that would land him down there, they all had. Yet what was she to do? From what she understood, somewhere, along the sea of damned souls, would he appear, one in billions. A needle in a field of haystacks. That’s not to mention the other circles of Hell. She was lucky enough to get a chance to meet a friend in the afterlife yet one so tauntingly small that made it all but hopeless.
Ward suddenly came to, finding herself next to the door at the back of the hall. Her voided stupor had brought her here subconsciously, but she remembered who had gone through a short while ago, as an idea came to mind: What if she narrowed her odds? If anyone could, it would be her . Thus Ward steeled herself, picking herself up from the wall as she continued through the door and hoped that the princess was still in a charitable mood.
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Though tea and conversation with Demons was plenty enticing, Collins found himself drawn to the collections of plants and fauna lining the walls of the small shop. Though some appeared practically identical to their earthly counterparts, others were far more distant, if they were related at all. One he stared at particularly was one that started right back at him. Coated in large leaves alongside a split that ran down a large central bulb, which appeared curiously like a smile, all while a pair of angular red eyes seemed to trace after the Doctor.
“Perhaps I was wrong, maybe they are better fellows than I gave them credit for.” Rosie admitted, standing back alongside Alastor, waiting for Collins to finish with his latest interest so they could continue negotiating.
“He certainly has an intriguing curiosity.” Alastor stated.
The animalistic nature of the plant made Collins wonder whether it was truly more animal than plant. Would it respond to stimuli more like an animal, or remain static like a plant? In his mind Collins thought up thesis’ of how it could really go either way, potentially retreating from interaction or reacting aggressively, or doing nothing at all. Furthermore was the slit a mouth? Could it eat? Or was it just some kind of evolved trait to make it appear like an animal, a chemical attraction that caused it to move, all which gave it some sort of advantage in the wild. He looked over the plant again, it was only about a foot tall, growing from a relatively small pot. What’s the worst it could do? He wondered, as he slowly raised his hand toward it.
“I wouldn’t recommend that.” Rosie calmly stated, hovering uncomfortably closely over Collins’ shoulder, “they’re carnivorous, you’ll lose a finger.” Collins quickly put his hand back down in response.
“So it actually has a mouth and eyes? So, are they still technically plants then?” Collins pondered.
“Plant, animal, why limit life to such categories.” Rosie responded, “Edax Exilium, commonly referred to as hungry-thistle or Venus-man-trap, has no relation to either family. This is a small one. I am rarely able to keep stock of the larger ones as they tend to be quite popular.”
“Yea, wonder why.” Collins mentioned sarcastically.
“Good for disposing of bodies.” Rosie said coldly, staring down at the doctor with her empty black eyes. “They all start off this small-“ she continued explaining, “however they rapidly grow in the following weeks after sprouting. Most grow to the size of man, some bigger, but others stop early and remain like this. Clever little things too, they don’t bite the hand that feeds once you prove you're not a threat to them. Personally they aren’t my type, however I’ve heard they can even become like pets, friendly, open to being pet, even heard of one that mourned the death of its owner.”
“You never stuck me as much of a botanist, Doctor.” Alastor chimed in.
“Truthfully, I’m not, but the way everything’s evolved down here-” the plant appeared to tilt its head at the Doctor, as if it was aware that it was at the center of the subject at hand, “It’s all very fascinating.”
“Yes, well, if you wish to get through your entire list sometime today, I suggest we get back on topic.” Alastor suggested.
How could he be so stupid? Collins wondered. Getting distracted by plants wasn’t exactly what he had planned. He was supposed to be brokering deals to ensure the security of foundation interests, if anything this proves that this was really not his line of work. He began to think that perhaps he shouldn’t have insisted on this. “Right, yes, definitely. Sorry, that was terribly unprofessional of me.” He apologized, “Where were we?” Rosie seemed to almost roll her eyes, judging by the movement of her eyebrows, yet it was impossible to tell due to their lack of existence.
“Something about transporting equipment.”
“Right, yes; the Foundation is undergoing certain ‘projects’ within Hell, for which we need to transport large amounts of equipment, but due to recent developments we need to ensure this equipment stays safe.” The mood seemed to dull considerably, as Rosie certainly seemed to enjoy talking about plants far more than politics, yet she still listened intently, not willing to let an opportunity go so easily. “Your territory, Miss Rosie, is in the perfect position for this purpose, all we ask for is permission to move through it.”
“I don’t suppose I’m allowed to know what exactly it is and why you are transporting it?” She asked.
“Unfortunately not, it’s classified.”
“Typical.” She scoffed.
“That’s their usual response for inquiries I’m afraid.” Alastor added, certainly not helping Collins gain the most favorable outcome.
Sensing the need to sweeten the deal, Collins was going to need to offer something in return, as expected. “The SCP Foundation has practically infinite resources, we’re willing to pay handsomely for your permission and discretion. Otherwise we can offer material or even personnel; I’m sure your position isn’t entirely tenable, having favors from a proper military force could certainly be helpful.”
Rosie sighed, looking bored as ever, “Money is of no concern to me, and looks aren’t everything Doctor, I assure you I’m more than capable of maintaining my position.” She appeared to mull it over in her head for a while, falling silent before repeating; “infinite” after which a sharp smile returned to her face, as it almost seemed like a lightbulb would appear above her head. “Well, Doctor, if this Foundation of yours truly has infinite resources then perhaps you could offer me some ‘material’ I’ve had trouble acquiring.” She waltzed up to Collins, pacing around him as she traced a sharp finger across his shoulders, as she visibly tensed from the contact. “As a woman of refined taste, I’ve had cravings for a certain variety of- let’s just say cuts, which are nay impossible to acquire down here.”
Collins stared blankly up at the demon, trying to piece together just exactly what she was implying, “name it and I’ll bring it up with my superiors.”
Her face instantly went blank, as Rosie almost couldn’t believe what she just heard. “For a man so bright and curious he certainly is thickly skulled.”
“Oh, Absolutely!” Alastor agreed in a chuckle, “believe me, dear, I’ve been dropping hints for weeks and I was never entirely sure he caught on.”
“Darling, do you know where you are?” Rosie asked, an almost genuine motherly concern that seemed to appear out of nowhere and was totally tonealy isolated from how she’d addressed Collins thus far. “You are aware you are in the cannibal sector, yes? I don’t just live here because of the aesthetics.”
Everything seemed to suddenly click together in Collins’ mind in the form of an epiphany, which was immediately overshadowed by embarrassment over how obvious it all now seemed. “Ah, right, forgot about that little detail.” He admitted, “Y-you too eh, Alastor? That certainly puts me in a trickier situation.” Perhaps Alastor really wasn’t the security he thought the radio demon would be. “S-so, you’re asking me to um- well that certainly makes it trickier. I mean we have Class-Ds, but that’s a bit cruel, even for them. Besides I’m not sure- Hmm, h-how, um, fresh are we talking?” Collins asked awkwardly, as discussing the butchering of humans certainly wasn’t high on his list of experiences.
“Considering it’ll have been the first time in- a very long time, I won’t mind if they’re a bit aged.” She relented. “Though I suppose we’ll have to wait and see what the quality is like and whether or not I’ll stick to our little agreement.”
“R-right, I’ll see if I can’t arrange a drop off of some of our recently expired subjects.” Collins could feel a part of his stomach twist itself uncomfortably, he shouldn’t be surprised at the pair’s unique diet, however something about trading off cadavers just like that felt off. At least it wasn’t his call to make, he just had to bring the offer to the Administrator and see it through from there. “I wasn’t exactly prepared for formal signings, however I take it you agree to our terms then?” Rosie gave an able nod of approval. “In that case I’ll have some representatives over with proper documentation to sign off on in a couple days. We’ll be in touch to iron out the smaller details”
“I suppose we are done here then,” Alastor announced, “Rosie, dear, I thank you for another dutiful evening, as always.”
“Not so fast there-“ Rosie urged, moving her way past both of them, “there is one last thing I’d like to take care of.” Moving towards one of the displays, she gently lifted a flower pot from one of the shelves, before approaching Collins. Standing before him as she handed off the pot, containing the same flesh-eating plant he had been admiring earlier, to him. “Despite my refined taste, I'm not so heartless as to not help a fellow horticulturist into the field. It’s on the house, Doctor; see it as a gift of good faith toward our new friendship.”
“Oh, I, um, thank you.” Collins mumbled, awkwardly holding the plant, which he’d been previously cautioned would bite off his fingers. Though now he wondered if he was only told such for the sake of amusement, as the plant docilely stared up at him. “I’ll be sure to take good care of- them.”
“It was my pleasure, Doctor.”
“Till we meet again, dear.” Alastor signed off, placing a hand on Collins’ shoulder as soon the two were once again absorbed by darkness and demonic symbols, disappearing into the void.
As the flow of static filled his ears and his eyes became strained by white noise, Collins only wondered if whatever other negotiations Alastor was taking him to would go so smoothly. He double checked that the potted plant was still in his hands, only to be met with its curious red eyes gazing up at him. Bound by soil yet cognizant enough to actively recognize other beings, how curious it’s mind must be. Collins knew it would make for an excellent subject, yet it felt wrong to simply turn it over to some researchers to dissect. After all, it is a gift, besides he gave his word.
The static began to fade, as the world grew vibrant once again, objects becoming distinguishable, as the two found themselves in a new room. One of sharply polished pine, one with various sculptures and busts on peristalsis lining the walls, one with a large bodied spider sitting behind a fanciful desk.
“The fuck is this?” The figure asked gruffly, tilting a heavy brow. A figure jumping from the man’s shadow, one scrawnier and shorter, dressed in a suit and ties as his eight eyes glared upon the intruders, his hand jumping inside his coat.
Oh shit . Collins cursed mentally, as whatever was ahead of him would certainly be trickier.
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Entering into the kitchen, it was relatively industrial, sleek, sterile, covered in tile and steel, appearing more like something out of a professional establishment rather than the ramshackle and homelier feel of the rest of the hotel. However it was small enough that Ward quickly discovered she wasn’t alone, as Charlie was visible in the near distance. The princess stood, leaning against one of the steel prep tables, a plate resting in her hand, as she gingerly ate from a piece of cake that sat upon it. Morbidly poking and prodding the piece before splitting off another bite. Behind her, sitting out on a collection of ornate porcelain and silverware was a small buffet in the process of being assembled, in particular, a chocolate cake with a single slice taken out of it.
“Mind if I join you?” Ward asked, waking up and leaning against a table opposite Charlie. “This the special thing you had planned?” She asked, gesturing over to the unfinished collection of entrees.
“Something like that.” She stated bluntly, in the most destitute tone Ward had heard come from her lips yet, as her eyes didn’t even look up to meet the Sergeant. “I was hoping that a grander welcome would be well received and maybe spread through word of mouth or online or something, and maybe encourage more people to come, even if it was just for the free food. Not like I’ll need it today anymore anyway, Crymini has made her intentions perfectly clear. She mentioned quickly before shoveling another piece of cake in her mouth.
“I wouldn’t give up on that just yet.” Ward cautioned, “One of my guys got her to talk to them, they’re good people, hopefully they’ll get through to her.”
“Hope is something we could really use more of down here.” Charlie admitted, “Really she was never that on board with the hotel anyway, we begged her and begged her, and even then I’m sure she just agreed for the sake of the free roof.” Charlie sighed, her apathy shining through in a rare moment, “I appreciated what your people are trying to do, but I’m not sure it’ll help.”
“The thing is, um-“
“Sergeant, we’ve had a development.” The radios suddenly buzzed, interrupting the whole conversation.
“Gimme a sec.” Ward requested, taking a few steps off to the side before clicking her radio on. “1-2 here, what have you got for me?”
The same radio operator from the embassy answered, “We found Dr. Collins and were able to estimate his position within a hundred meters, but he moved.”
“What do you mean?”
“He pinged halfway across the city, he’s now roughly twenty-three kilometers from your position. We’ll have to restart the triangulation process and divert the rescue team.”
“Dammit, how long will that take?”
“Triangulation: not long, the diversion: depends on where the Doctor is exactly. Sergeant, I’ll keep trying but if he keeps moving like this, it’ll be almost impossible to catch him.”
Ward sighed, she wanted to scream and punch Collins in the face once he got back, and the citation might just have been worth it if she didn’t need him. “Patch me through to the Doc.”
Turning to static for a while, the radio eventually cleared out, as Collins came through from the other end, “Sergeant, I’m in the middle of something right now-“
“Where the fuck are you! You know what kind of chaos it’s been? I’m trying keep the hotel under check and get a rescue team out there to find you, and now blink across the fucking city. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Look, I understand, this isn’t what either of us wanted, everything’s gone completely off the deep end.” Collins expressed in something of an understatement, “However, I really think I’m making headway, this could be monumental.”
Ward instinctively reached up to rub the bridge of her nose only for her helmet to get in the way, “I am assigned to protect you at all costs, which I cannot guarantee when you're halfway across the city from me. You’re backing me into a fucking corner, Doc, protocol dictates that I have to hold my position, but if somthing happens to you, the blame is going to be pinned on me.”
“I know- but this is an opportunity I can’t let go to waste. Break protocol, lift the lockdown on the hotel if you have to.”
“You know I can’t do that. Priority Asset goes missing beyond immediate recovery, secure position until forces can be allocated for recovery. To be adhered to unless ordered otherwise” She quoted, surprising herself for a moment with the accuracy of her wording. “Which is exactly what I’m trying to do.”
“Then I order you to lift the lockdown.”
“You don’t have the authority since you are the PA that’s missing, at this rate the only person that would is the Administrator and he’s not even on site.”
“Okay, okay- I’m in the middle of negotiating with the mob, I’ll try to see if I can’t speed things up, but now I really have to go.”
“Thank you.” Ward went to turn off her radio, “I swear to god-“ she pulled the seal off her suit and began to remove her helmet, “sometimes it feels like I’ve been assigned to look over a fucking toddler.” She tossed her helmet onto the table before returning back to her position across from Charlie.
“Tell me about it-“ Charlie agreed, spiraling into a tangent, “He keeps telling me that stuff like this won’t happen again, and that he’s trying his best, and wants the best for us. And then it happens again and there’s another shootout, and people get injured, and now wouldn’t you know it people are being literally scared away. He promised to help, I’m starting to doubt that he ever really intended to. Yet I keep believing him, I want to keep hoping that all the promises he makes will come true in the long run. But it’s all starting to seem too far off.” Charlie sighed, “Like me to get sweet-talked into this kinda stuff.” Her mind seemed to suddenly snap back together, her eyes darting up at Ward. The soldiers half burned face and twinkling glass eye staring back at her, while the other half appeared tired and unfocused. In her mind, for a brief moment, it felt like she was talking to someone else. “Sorry, I just needed to vent. Vaggie is usually my rock and today has just been a lot to go through without her.”
“Don’t sweat it, besides I deserve some of it.” Ward admitted, breaking eye-contact due to a slight embarrassment, as she was the one that really escalated the situation. “Have faith in the Doc. As frustrating as he can be, especially in situations like this, compared to some of the other researchers, Collins is one of the better ones. Actually has a personality for one and genuinely wants to do good. He’s done right by me and my team so far, I’m sure he’ll do what he can for you.” Ward chuckled as she recalled something, “What was it that Sarge called him again? Kid in a candy shop, fascinated by everything.”
“I hope so.”Charlie replied, “I mean he’s not been mean or anything, and he seems genuine, I just hope he doesn’t forget to follow through.” She stated, as a silence befell the two, yet simultaneously an understanding was fostered between them. “Oh, and sorry again about the name thing, I didn’t mean to, it was just- well- you know.”
“Nah, I get it, stress of the situation gets to your head and you begin doing things you never intended. Besides it was my own fault, I shouldn’t have been loose-tongued with sensitive information.” Ward remarked, with mildly more hostility than she intended, “I’ll ask the Doc about it, he’s always been fast and loose with protocol and rules, so maybe he’ll have a loophole or something.”
“I hope, I really didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” Charlie urged, as much as everything the Foundation caused problems she still liked them, seeing what good there was, and didn’t want anything to happen to them.
“Don’t worry about it. Besides, you mind clearing something up for me?” Ward asked, to which the princess briskly shook her head. “I don’t get you, princess. At first I saw you the same as Sarge did, kind, in over your head, blonde. Your dad’s powerful but maybe you weren’t. Everything was such a mystery back then but you seemed almost cookie-cut. But yesterday turned all that on its head, after you wiped the floor with that guy. Yet despite all that, the shootouts, the conflicts, hell everythings that’s happened today, you refuse to fight back against us. So- what gives?”
Charlie broke eye contact, then re-established it, then broke it again, as she shifted uncomfortably. A long silence persisted, as she searched for the exact way to answer that question. “I-I don’t like it. Using my powers that is. I don’t want to resort to violence, or even scaring people, unless I have no other choice. Valentino is a monster, but even against him it just feels wrong. And you guys are human, still alive, you all still have hopes and dreams and so much ahead of you. You don’t have a second chance, not like the sinners down here, who will just fall again if they die, except for the exterminations of course. I’ve had to hurt demons before, but I don’t know if I could ever kill someone, especially not a still living human. Besides, I still want to believe everything that Collins has told me, that this is all just happening because you guys are still so new down here, that it’s temporary and that things will get better over time.” She explained.
Ward sucked on her teeth, “you’re a real idealist, Princess.” She took a moment to consider everything she’d been told, “I know I’ve done a lot today that- you don’t agree with-“ Ward prefaced underhandedly, “But, um, I really could use your help with something.” She requested awkwardly, refusing to make eye contact as she braced for the opposite answer she hoped for.
Charlie hummed for a moment, “what happened today was- stressful, but in the end you were just doing your job. If Alastor could have just not kidnapped the Doctor.” She pondered, as the lone overlord single-handedly shifted the events of the entire day. Perhaps intentionally, perhaps not, though, knowing Alastor, it was likely the former. “How can I help you, Ward?” She asked as a slight chipper returned to her tone.
Ward twitched slightly at hearing her name come from the princess’ mouth again, something she would have to grow used to, now that it was out in the open. “Thanks, I was worried-“ she paused, searching for the right words before continuing, “Sorry, this is difficult for me.” She admitted.
“Don’t worry, take your time.” Charlie encouraged.
Ward stayed silent a few more seconds, before quickly giving up. “You know what? Fuck it, it’ll hurt either way, so let’s just go the direct route. Private First Class Oliver Devis, or as Françoi kept calling him, choux fleur.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember him, he was there the first time you guys came here.” Charlie recalled, though she soon read the drained expression on Ward’s face, this wasn’t just going to be a fun little conversation recounting old memories. “Has something happened to him?”
“He was injured during our expedition and was in intensive care for a while, he died this morning.” Charlie’s reaction was as expected, her eyes growing wide before she suddenly shut them, only partially reopening them as if to brace for more bad news. “I only just got the report-“ Ward continued, her own voice slightly strained as she tried to remain at least mildly professional. “He wasn’t with the squad as long as some, but he was a good friend. Good soldier too, even if he was a breaker, shame it ended the way it did.”
“What do you mean ‘breaker’?” Charlie asked.
Ward jumped up at the question, almost having forgotten that she was talking with the Princess rather than someone else. “Oh, it’s Foundation slang, I guess. We go through -a lot- Princess.” She stated, realizing that further elaboration would be necessary. “During the Great War, man discovered a strange new illness where men appeared physically fit yet their minds were somehow broken, to a point of causing potentially crippling impairments. Shell shock, combat fatigue, PTSD, whatever you want to call it. Point is that’s the kind of trauma man can do to itself. Now imagine what all kinds of nightmarish creatures could do to a man. We certainly get the most colorful flavor of it all, that’s for sure. Mandatory psychiatric sessions can only do so much. Most are lucky to keep it together till retirement, yet we all break eventually, hence breakers. When you work for the Foundation long enough you begin to see the signs, especially in the MTF, especially among the new ones, Françoi is just the most blunt about it.”
“I’m sorry-” Charlie mentioned apologetically, as her wide pearly eyes stared at the soldier, “I didn’t know- didn’t consider what it’s like for you guys.”
“Anyway-” Ward continued, catching herself staring off, realizing she needed to move on.“No one else knows yet, and-“ she sighed, “I honestly don’t know what to do, his death was so- just out-of-the-blue. Most of the time when we lose guys it’s in battle, and it’s sudden but you always have the risk in the back of your mind, you know it’s coming the only variable is when. But with him- he’s been in treatment for so long-“
“You weren’t ready for it.”
“Y-yea, yea, um, I wasn’t ready for it.” Ward agreed, “It’s the same when someone dies during training, it hits harder, it isn’t supposed to happen, and their deaths feel more meaningless.” Becoming silent once again, Ward scrambled to realign herself as she’d drifted off topic. “I’m sure you can guess what I need your help with. We’ve all done horrible things, princess, he’ll be down here. It would make things easier- for all of us- if we could actually see him again, and well-“ Ward found herself choking up slightly more than she expected, “if he would like us to bring or say anything to his family.”
Charlie, frowned slightly, though otherwise was as apologetic as she could be, “Well, I t’s not going to be easy, there’s well over a billion demons just in Pride alone, not to mention the other rings. It’s a bit pseudoscience-y, but there are ways to predict where people will end up in Hell.” Charlie sighed and rubbed the side of her face, “Just- Ward, are you certain you wanna do this? I really want to help you, I do. But I’ve never done this with Humans before, there’s no guarantee that he’ll be the same person you once knew. He’ll look different, he may act different, he might have different mannerisms or might even talk differently. Some people just can’t take Hell and go insane. There’s nothing to say that whatever relationship you guys had will necessarily work out with him in his new form.” Ward frowned at the princess, something Charlie took note of. She knew it wasn’t pleasant and wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it was important. “I just want to be Absolutely sure that you’re certain you wanna track him down.”
“No man left behind, Princess, whatever form he’s in, if he’s down here, I wanna find him.” Ward reaffirmed.
“It’s not really a guaranteed process-” Charlie prefaced, “There is a roughly two week delay between when someone dies and when they fall, however where they fall isn’t random. It’s why there are the districts, looking at certain details from a person’s life can be used to predict what ring they’ll fall in, and even the district. But, So long as you’re certain, yes, I’ll gladly help you.” Charlie smiled at her, a realization that the gruff soldier before her, though nice, was far more emotional and caring than she traditionally let on. “It’s sweet of you to do this.”
Ward shrugged, “I know they’d do it for me.” Secure in her knowledge that the vast majority of the MTFs took pride in the soldier’s creed. “Just keep this on the down-low, Princess, I don’t know if I’m really allowed to be doing all this.” The sudden sound of quiet radio chatter drew her attention, as she remembered her helmet, strewn across the table from whence the voices emerged. Reaching over she picked it up, placing it over her head though not sealing the suit yet.
“-You reading me two?” Sandman barked over the line.
“Copy, whaddya got for me, Seven?”
“Princess’s girl is back, real pissed too, what should I-” He was interrupted as a sharp thunk sounded across the radio, “Hey! You crazy ass-” before the radio cut out.
“Keep her there, I’ll be over in a sec.” Ward ordered, righting herself as she straightened out her uniform and sealed her helmet, “C’mon Princess, before your girl kills one of my guys.”
Ward proceeded to throw open the door, marching back out into the hall, quickly shedding her previous displays of emotion, as soldierly professionalism returned to the surface. Charlie stowed her now empty plate as she swiftly followed after the Sergeant, figuring her day of hopelessly preventing fights wasn’t over yet. Then again no all-out brawls had occurred, yet.
The hall itself had hardly changed, soldiers hanging around, husk asleep on the bar counter, Niffty zooming around as she progressed to ‘cleaning’ spots of ‘dirt’ either so small they were near invisible or plainly didn’t exist. A more comforting change was that Adela and Crymini were still talking and hadn’t circled back around to blows again, as there appeared no immediate hostility between the two. However, there wasn’t the time to further inquire into whether or not they fully smoothed things over, as Vaggie’s shouts could already be heard from outside.
Ward shoved the front door open as Vaggie was mid sentence, “-out of my own fucking building!” Several bags of groceries laid by her side as she attempted to lean over the Sandman, despite not having any significant vertical advantage, and from over a foot away as the soldier kept his rifle up to maintain distance.
Before she could get another word out, Charlie charged forward at her, grabbing her girlfriend up in a large hug, which quickly brought any conflict to an end.
“She threw a fucking potatoe at me.” Sandman stated in mild bewilderment as he took a couple steps back, the tuber in question lying at his feet.
“Lucky for you, Corporal, tactical-assault potatoes aren’t widespread weapons of war, yet.” Ward teased.
“Thank goodness you’re here!” Charlie mentioned, releasing Vaggie as the confusion on her face became apparent, “Things have been a bit -hectic- the last couple hours.”
“Charlie, what happened? Why are they here again? Why have they barricaded the hotel?” She asked in a barrage of questions.
“How’s the shoulder?” Ward asked, interrupting Vaggie, as she barged into the conversation.
“What the hell is going on?” Vaggie snapped, “why are you doing this?”
“Better then, I’ll be sure to give the feedback to Françoi, he takes pride in his needlework.” She remarked, a lighter tone in her voice as she stepped forward and ushered the girls aside. “3-Al, well- Alastor, kidnapped Dr. Collins-“
Vaggie interrupted, “That fucking-“
“It gets better,” Ward prefaced sarcastically before continuing, “Not only is Dr. Collins okay with it, but is now teleporting around the city with him, making it impossible for us to rescue him. I don’t know if he should be considered AWOL or god knows what, but the point is that, due to protocol, had to lock down the hotel until Dr. Collins is safely returned, or until I receive orders telling me otherwise.”
“But- Ward has been as lenient as she could be and, since we’ve been cooperating so well, we have largely come to a peaceful resolution on things.” Charlie added, becoming suggestively kind in tone as if she was trying to permanently influence Ward’s decisions.
“Wait-“ Vaggie halted, as she quickly put everything together, “your name is Ward?” She asked, turning toward the soldier, her brow tilted.
Ward brushed off the remark, “I’m not delving into that right now.” Yet she couldn’t deny the ever apparent pointlessness of her ‘lockdown’ especially as it seemed Collins’ private excursion would last longer than previously predicted. “I was there when he took the Doc, it was spontaneous-“
“So, you know that none of us were involved in it.” Vaggie finished.
“I had to take precautions regardless.” Ward reaffirmed, “besides you weren’t here for one, didn’t fit the Princess’s M-O, the cat was asleep, leaving the new girl and the little one as the only potential accomplices, yet both were completely unaware of the situation.” She explained going through the full process as the situation had developed. “Look I can’t end the lockdown, because protocol, my guys are stuck here and it’ll be weapons-up—eyes-open during that time. But I can order them to not interfere, all I ask is that you keep me updated, I’ll need it for my own report once all this is over.” She offered, as it was evident, even to her, that she couldn’t keep the gun pointed at the hotel forever, “It’s the best I can do.”
“Ugh, god, I’ll wring that fuckers neck when he gets back.” Vaggie murmured in restrained rage.
Charlie placed a hand on her shoulder, “it’s alright, the damage has been manageable, besides it’s just Alastor being Alastor, we can talk to him when he gets back.”
“Here’s to hoping that he listens for once.” Vaggie mentioned, lingering back into the swing of things she picked up the bags of groceries, as she continued back toward the front door, “Care to help, chico-soldado?” She mentioned as she passed Sandman.
Confounded at the unorthodox situation, he looked to Ward for answers. She waved a hand suggesting for him to ‘go on’, as he soon followed after Vaggie. Slowly following suit, she and Charlie also began to make their way back inside. “By the way, sorry for any -inconvenience- I caused during all of this.”
“It’s alright.” Charlie reassured, “you were doing what you had to, right? To make sure you and your people were safe. I’ll work with Crymini and see if I can’t still convince her to give it another shot.”
Ward hummed in affirmation as the continued on silently for a while, before something else jumped to mind, “Oh, and, um, Princess?”
“Yes?” Charlie asked, turning fully toward her.
“Thanks, for the talk earlier, it was- therapeutic.” She mentioned before the two continued on inside.
Everything continued slowly, as the day grew longer and longer. Effectively stuck, the MTF team hung around the lobby of the hotel and with the lockdown, and any other hostilities, over the only enemy to be combatted now was boredom. Ward kept in contact with the embassy who in turn kept track of Collins through the signals from his radio. Though as the Doctor teleported from location to location the improbability of the rescue team to ever reach him was realized, as, once Dr. Wilcox finally arrived at the embassy, they were needed elsewhere and recalled. Yet Mjolnier-3 was left to pick up the Doctor upon his eventual return.
Ward and the rest of the team had to get comfortable, as Dr. Collins showed no sign of returning any time soon. She kept what Butler had tulips her well in the back of her mind, avoiding thinking about it as much as possible by keeping herself and those under her busy with their equipment or simply talking to one another. So long as the Sergeant was kept up to date about everything, the residents were left to their own devices, no longer contained to the ground floor as they inevitably dispersed. Eventually Angel Dust returned, blissfully unaware of anything that had transpired thanks to ‘work’, and was informed of everything that had occurred. Not that his reaction bestowed much interest. Yet the day wore on.
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Never before did the sound of static and visual of demonic symbols seem so relieving. Dr. Collins wondered if the plant he still held could sense those same side effects from the teleportation, though the way it tucked itself in and kept its ‘eyes’ shut almost seemed to confirm it. Fading static revealed those now iconic stained glass doors of the Hazbin Hotel’s entrance. As Alastor released his shoulder, it signaled the end of whatever this adventure was. His folder, now full of info of promises, deals and alliances tucked under one arm, while the plant Rosie had gifted him rested within the other.
Though the door was right there and the end was so close, Collins turned toward Alastor, having a few final words; “I don’t know if you’re doing this cause you get a kick out of it or if you’re genuinely trying to be helpful in your own strange way, either way, despite all the chaos you caused, you helped me a lot today, so thank you.”
Alastor raised his brow, “I took a gamble inviting you down here, Doctor, you expect me to not take advantage of it?” He asked cryptically.
Swallowing harshly, Collins decided to leave it at that, before he encouraged more vague threats and riddles from Alastor, which he currently didn’t have the energy to decipher. He moved forward pushing open the door with hsi shoulder, mentally bracing himself for another standoff like occurred previously. Yet as the door fully opened, there hardly seemed a trace of anyone around, as the main hall, with all its chandeliers, couches, paintings, and bars, appeared deserted. With hardly a soul around, Collins heard his own footsteps echo across the hardwood floor, followed by Alastor, as they cautiously entered inside.
Collins briefly began wondering if the worst had indeed happened and that whatever side won had already cleaned up. The sound of chatter, and what may have been laughter, coming from an adjacent room quickly put those concerns to rest. Approaching the door, Collins and Alastor opened it carefully, making as little noise as possible, as they observed the scene before them. A whole buffet had been splayed across the dining table, undoubtedly whatever special event Charlie had been perepairing, with half-eaten meals and empty plates scattered around. Most of the hotel’s residents lined one side of the table as the silver suited soldiers of MTF Xi-1 sat opposite them; de-helmeted and masked, they rowdily made conversation and laughed alongside the demons of the hotel. Charlie sat at the head of the table, her back towards Collins as he entered.
“-see that’s the thing; I’ve spoken with Sarge, Shumard, even some of the boys from Beta-2, none of them said anything about him eating a thing, furthermore he looks like a fucking skeleton. Point being, Princess; don’t worry about it, the man survives off of coffee and cigarettes.” Adela stated coming off the end of a long tangent to answer a simple question.
Alphonse sat with a disinterested brow, as he kept his bony face staring toward her, a conspicuously untouched plate of food resting before him, with a cup of coffee beside it, a phantom cigarette hanging from his lips as Charlie barred him from having an actual one. “Que puis-je dire, je viens d'hommes meilleurs.”
A series of groans followed, “God, he’s doing the fucking thing, again.” Sandman mentioned.
“Seriously?” Vaggie asked, a smirk on her face, “you guys charge into everything guns blazing and French is your downfall.”
“It gets on the nerves of the Americans,” Adela added, “prawda przyjaciele?”
“That, plus all the saucy talk between Shumard and resident grumpy Frenchmen.” Ward mentioned, purposefully going into an overly stereotypical French accent as she threw in random bits of gibberish that vaguely sounded like the language. As Alphonse poutily stared at her. “Not to mention it inspired our unit name, all from the perilous love of a Luisianan and Burgundian.”
“Ridicule! Je suis un homme des alpes, de Grenoble.” Alphonse mentioned, “La prochaine fois que tu te fais tirer dessus, je te laisserai saigner.” Though the sincerity behind those threats was lukewarm at best.
“Shumard is his girlfriend?” Charlie asked.
“Shocking right.” Sandman quipped.
“Well, it's her callsign.” Ward corrected.
“The mystery of love, Princess, how an angry toad got a girl like her is anyone’s guess, then again-“ Adela continued into another tangent of the past histories of the team. Or at least that which she could reveal, mostly dumb stories that the Foundation was unlikely to care about.
Ward’s eye began to wander, as she gazed across the table of faces, with the day seemingly ending far more joyously than it ever could have begun. Yet, something caught the corner of her eye, as another figure began to approach the table from behind Charlie, another figure dressed in the silver hazard suit, accompanied by the red deer.
“-so, yea my own ventures haven’t been great, but this guy-“ Ward sharply elbowed Adela, signaling her to stop, as the Sergeant jumped out of her seat, threw her helmet on and pulled her equipment up. As soon as the others had noticed, within the blink of an eye they had followed suit.
Glad to have her face covered, due to how unprofessional she’d been caught, she clacked her heels together as she quickly got back into it. “Contain him!” She shouted pointing at Alastor, as Adela and Sandman quickly rushed over, weapons drawn, forcing some space between the Doctor and Alastor. “Dr. Collins, are you alright?”
“Aw, you hardly had to stop the fun for me, Sergeant, good to see everything’s been going well while I was gone.” Collins mentioned, no hint of anger or disappointment anywhere in sight, as he seemed genuinely content.
“Of course, sir.”
“Oh, Dr. Collins!” Charlie exclaimed, rising from her seat. “Don’t worry, though there were some initial issues, Ward and I managed to work through everything.”
Simultaneously, Ward and Collins’ heads jerked toward Charlie as if neither could believe what she’d just said. Meanwhile, Charlie produced a nervous smile. Collins chuckled after the initial surprise wore off, “Two, would you care to inform me why the Princess knows your name?” He asked.
Ward looked to Charlie, who could only gaze back apologetically, before turning back toward the Doctor. Once again she was glad that the embarrassment on her face was hidden as she searched for the right way to describe the situation without having to tell the whole story. “It was a lapse in judgment, sir, nothing more.” Ward paused as she realized she still had the whole situation with Butler yo deal with. “Actually, if you don’t mind, sir, I was hoping you could help with explaining all this to the Captain, maybe make it seem like less of a blunder.”
“Sergeant, I can’t tell if you’re asking me to take the fall for you or to find you a loophole, either way I always thought the rules were stupid from the start.” He explained, before turning toward Charlie, “Well Princess you’ve already met number Two, Sergeant Ward, let me introduce you to Three, Specialist Adela, Four, medical officer Alphonse, Five, Private Devis; who is currently in intensive care topside-“ Charlie and Ward both winced as he mentioned the name. “ Six- actually… I don’t think I ever learned your name Sandman.” Collins finished, as the soldier in the room stared dumbstruck at the researcher.
Silence perpetuated through the room for a while, the soldier in question, Sandman, remaining particularly quiet as he began fidgeting with his hands. Adela eventually spoke up, “No one knows his name Doc, he’s kept it secret ever since joining, edgy fuck even scratched it off his locker and tags. No wonder the girls from Delta company were swooning all over him.”
“Oh, well then-“ Collins continued, “Six, Corporal Sandman, And Seven, Radio operator Daniels, lastly there’s One, Captain Butler who’s back at the embassy.” He finished off having pointed out ever man in the room, as Charlie appeared to have as much difficulty processing everything that happened.
“I know all your names now.” Charlie quietly murmured to herself, “I know all your names now! Haha yes!” She cheered.
“How does this-?” Ward tried to ask before Collins cut her off with the answer.
“I just gave you all exemptions, no explanations necessary, it’ll be written down that I provided your names for the sake of easier cooperation and further trust building.” He answered, “Of course names are still strictly forbidden in all other scenarios.”
“So you did take the blame?” Ward clarified.
“In a way, unlike you I won’t be punished for it.”
“But, isn’t this some kind of security risk?” Ward asked, “They drilled it into us that this wasn’t allowed, you know not hesitating, just in case.” She insinuated, referring to the potential of having to actually combat the hotel residents.
“I severely doubt that we will ever get to that point, Sergeant, and if we do-“ Collins chuckled nervously, “well, you saw what happened yesterday, if we ever do butt heads with the Princess, you better hope she hesitates.” He finished, not skipping a beat as he swiftly moved on. “Anyway, Princess, I thank you for taking care of my men and I hope you have a nice rest of your day.” He stated, not even waiting for a response as he turned on his heels and began to March out. “Come along, Sergeant Ward, my schedule has already been ruined more than enough.” As the soldiers quickly formed up to follow the Doctor out.
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Though the return journey to the Embassy wasn’t long, there was no sun in the sky, but whatever mechanism created light in hell had diminished as it was long dark by the time they arrived. The first thing to greet them by the door was Cpt. Butler, who delivered the unfortunate news.
A sharp thud emanated from the wall as Adela plunged her fist into it. “God fucking dammit!” She shouted, “Doc, you still have contact with the little red bastard?” She demanded, turning towards Collins.
Collins responded in half-truths, “N-not immediately.” The unofficial position that Blitzo and the rest of IMP carried was still secret, meaning that officially no further arrangements existed. However the greater dealings they had were undeniable.
“Next time you see that fucker, tell him I’ll put a ducking bullet through him.” She ordered, before storming off back to their barracks.
“C'est typique-“ Alphonse added, “spent hours stabilizing and watching over him just for some ‘chirurgien’ to- merde, merde c'est foutu.” He paused for a moment, “Si seulement- i-if just-“
Ward cut him off, “Don’t start that shit, Alphonse, you did everything you could. It’s like you said, some surgeon fucked it up, not you.”
“Fuck, imagine being under that long just to never wake up.” Sandman contemplated.
With the most immediate, violent, first reactions out of the way, Butler continued, “I’ve managed to secure some leave time for you guys to mourn, couple of days within the next week or so, depends on when the funeral will be.”
“You’ve already contacted his family?” Ward asked.
“As well as I could, the official story is that he was special forces operating in the Middle East, otherwise I told them what I could. He died a hero, fighting on the front-lines to protect humanity.” Butler explained. “I’ve minimized all your schedules as much as I could, so you guys’d have some time.”
“Thanks Sarge, I’m gonna go make sure Adela hasn’t completely destroyed the barracks yet.” Ward mentioned as she followed after the Specialist, as soon the rest of the soldier dispersed.
Collins returned to his workspace, setting the plant down on his desk, as he had little mental capacity left over to do anything other than stare at it for a while, gradually contemplating everything that had happened since they’d arrived in Hell. His death was the first among actual Foundation personnel, a number that would only go up from here, as this war against Valentino would undoubtedly escalate. Ironically, many more would die for the sake of those already damned. Throughout it all he wondered if there was something, somewhere, he could have done to prevent it all. Though his mind taunted him with such notions, deep down Collins knew that simply wasn’t the case. In the end it didn’t matter at all.
Despite his hopes that perhaps he had avoided his head being chewed off for everything that happened, the clattering echoes of footsteps approaching his office put that in doubt. And as Dr. Wilcox rounded the doorway, it was all but over. “Collins, thank god, you’re ok.” He stated, entering the office as Collins gazed up at him in surprise. “I know SCP-666-3-Al has been hostile in the past, I couldn’t imagine being taken by him.”
“N-no, he was quite cordial.” Collins murmured, the realization hitting that the reports likely hadn’t hit his desk yet, and he could expect his lecture tomorrow instead. “From what I heard, you weren’t present most of today.”
“No, I had a conference I needed to attend, I was across the country at the time.” He excused, with a strange lack of conviction..
“And that couldn’t have been cleared by me before the day began?” Collins asked.
“You’re not even supposed to know that it happened.”
“Well then-” Collins started, jumping up as he approached Wilcox, “Since I’m not privy to your schedule, let me bring you in on mine.” He picked up the folder, in which he’d gathered all the data on his meetings, and tossed it toward Dr. Wilcox, who picked it up and began thumbing through the pages. “Everything’s in there, 3-Al took me to meet a majority of the subjects on my list, including the former De Vito crime family, many of which I think could be promising. It’s far from anything formal, but it’s a start, and a pretty good one at that, formed various verbal agreements that should allow us to begin getting this sorted within a week or two.” Collins explained to a seemingly half-listening Wilcox, who appeared more preoccupied with reading through the notes Collins had scribbled down. “Thanks to 3-Al, I got off on pretty good foot with one of them, 3-RE. She seems promising, even gave me this.” He added, gesturing toward the plant.
WIlcox napped his head up, to be met with the curious gaze of a red eyed plant sitting in a small pot on Collins’ desk. “Huh, curious. You wanna send it topside and set some people loose on it?”
“Seems kinda rude, don’t you think?” Collins asked, “I mean, it was a gift. Who knows, maybe I’ll just keep it on my desk as a little friend.” He continued, gradually coming to a stop as he noticed the secretary standing at his door, third time’s a charm . “Yes Hunter.” Collins called out, abruptly changing the subject.
The secretary paused for a moment, hesitating as he expected something else, prepared with a correction that was now unnecessary, “The, um, one eyed Demon is back and asking for you, sir.”
Collins groaned and hung his head for a moment, “Excuse me, I need to deal with this.” He stated, moving past the administrator, “Oh also I need about-” Collins paused for a moment as he mulled over the meager numbers Angel told him, “Forty-ish thousand dollars, it was my fee for the interview with 2-AD.”
“Of course, just remember, Collins-” Wilcox added before allowing the other Doctor to leave, “I still think you’re insane, but we made an agreement, if it brings results, I’ll overlook it.”
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A scientist, a lanky snake, a security guard, and a secretary carrying a box, all walking in a column down the halls of an embassy in Hell, was somehow another day in the office. Then again Collins couldn’t tell if he was getting tired of this situation or if it was just the time of day impacting his mood. Either way the three day fiasco of the snake’s assault on the embassy using eggs was finally at an end. As the group rapidly approached the front desk of the embassy, with the pale, wild-haired, cyclops visible and waiting for them. Naturally the snake seemed anxious and dejected when they’d initially put handcuffs on him and took him without explanation, as soon as he saw where they were heading that shifted to straight confusion.
“Ah, Ms. Bomb, glad to know that he was more than cooperative, and I’m glad that we can finally put all this behind us.” Collins greeted, as Pentious was brought up beside him. “Private, please take those cuffs off him.” he requested, as the soldier unlocked and took the handcuffs off of Pentious’s wrists. “I place Mr. Pentious in your custody.” The snake took a few confused steps forward. “Oh, yes and-” Collins took the box from Hunter’s hands before placing it in the snake’s, “your things.”
“W-what just happened?” Pentious asked.
“You’re free now.” Collins answered, “Or, well, as free as she’ll let you be. As far as the Foundation is concerned she has legal authority over you.”
Pentious snapped his head around to Cherri bomb, “Actually, I kinda like the sound of that.” She smirked.
“Yea well, the Foundation will go after both of you if either of you does another stunt like that again. Let’s be clear, I’m doing you a favor, he could have been held for a lot longer, and you’ll both make sure that it doesn’t happen again.” Collins explained, “I hope we’re clear.”
“Cristal.” Cherri responded, “That it?”
“Well, there is paperwork to fill out, however considering how charmingly you filled out the last one, I figure you’ll just leave that to us.” Collins added, holding up the very doodled form in question. “Otherwise, I’d recommend a therapist, he has some self-esteem issues.”
Cherri bomb scoffed, “As if those are available down here.”
“It’s not the same, but You could always try the Princess.” Collins recommended.
“That twat?” She asked, not taking him seriously, “What she’s trying to do is a joke, I don’t get why Angie’s so interested in her B-S.”
“Perhaps-” Collins shrugged, “But she’s trying.” He stated before turning, “Have a nice day.” and leaving back down the corridor from whence he came.
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“Ah, Captain!” Administrator Wilcox shouted at the figure a fair distance down the hall compared to himself. The man had made himself almost impossible to find since the day’s events had transpired, and it was those very events he needed to speak with him about. Wilcox continued before the Captain could even greet him, “I’m terribly sorry for having to pull the plug on your man-”
Butler’s face seemed to empty entirely as he stared hollowly at Wilcox, “If this is the line of inquiry we’re going down, then I respectfully suggest that you choose your words very carefully.” He warned, placing a hand on the holster pinned to his belt.
“Are you threatening me, Captain?”
“Just making a friendly suggestion, sir.”
“His sacrifice was regrettable, but I promise you that, once this is all over, the Foundation and Humanity will benefit greatly from it.” Wilcox explained, as Butler removed his hand from his holster and placed it on his belt. “It’s a shame, but Collins would never have agreed to this line of testing, I promise you we’ll go far together.” He sucked on his teeth, hoping he had satisfied the Captain with reassurance, “However, it is regrettable that you had to tell your men immediately.”
“They had a right to know.” Butler reinforced, knowing full well himself that it would have been suspicious if he didn’t tell them and would have bought them a day at most. “I understand having to make sacrifices, however I also understand losing people, they have a right to know and to mourn. I hope you can understand that. Let me deal with my men, Administrator.”
“I just hope you understand the difficulties you’re making for us.” Wilcox added, “But, everything is in place now, you’re a good man -Major- I’m glad to have you on the ground.” He stated insinuatingly, holding out his hand as Butler took it, before patting Major Butler on the shoulder before continuing back down the hall. Butler gazed down at his hand dejectedly, a pair of gold embroidered oak-leaves resting in it.
Notes:
So how was it?
This might have been the messiest chapter to write since this series had started, compared to my initial concept for it, the final product is almost completely different. However due to how long it took me to write this one I’ve pretty much got the next one entirely sorted, so hopefully that one will be out a bit faster but I’m not promising anything.
We’re also very close to 20k hits, which I’m getting hyped for.
Lastly I was wondering what I should do with The Redacted Files, it originally just started as a way to fill in a couple gaps with the interviews regarding the IMP cast, however now I’m not sure what to do with it anymore. I still have a few ideas left for interviews and side-stories, but nothing that I’ll be working on any time soon, and I don’t want it to just be dormant like that. So, I was considering, what if I outsource it? I’m not promising anything yet, but at this point there has been more than enough development in the main plot for a whole host of different side-stories. So, I was thinking of something like an open google folder where people can come in and share their concepts for stories, write them out, and if they work I can implement them, with full credit of course. No pressure, no money or requirements, and an opportunity for people who’ve come up with ideas in this universe to implement them. I thought it would be cool if I could include some greater community engagement within this story, and in this manner it could accomplish that without directly impacting the main story. Anyway, it’s just an idea I’ve had for a while now. What do you guys think?
Otherwise if you have feedback or improvements then I’d be glad to hear it, otherwise nice words are also appreciated.
Thank you for reading.
Chapter 15: The Seams
Summary:
Dr. Collins took a risk, now he waits anxiously to see if it paid off.
Notes:
This chapter was another doozy to write.
I thought the initial concept would actually cause it to be short but instead it became so ridiculously long that I split it up in two. However the second part is mostly done as well, so it should be out pretty soon (hopefully within a week or so).
anyway, that’s all I had,
So without further ado, I hope you enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 15: The Seams
With his feet up on the dashboard, Agent Pie drearily stared through his visor across the front of the truck and at the MRAP at the front of the column, the gunner sitting its turret anxiously aiming around at every little thing that moved. It had been a week since the agreements with all the overlords and gangs had been sorted out and finalized. This convoy was far from the first to pass through their territories, yet there was distrust all the same. However that was not something worth concerning himself with, a handful of other convoys had passed through and none of them had any difficulties so far. Besides, up-armored MTVRs, with several inches of bulletproof steel to surround him, were comforting enough to relax at least a little bit.
“-something beginning with B.” He said, turning toward the driver sitting beside him.
“Bastard.” The man responded, with a slight Irish twang, as he kept his eyes well fixated on the road.
Pie cocked his brow, not that it was visible, “Now what makes you say that there, ol’ Clover?”
“You looked at me.” Clover replied simply.
“I was actually thinking Bitch, but that works too.” Pie explained, though he couldn’t see it, he could practically feel the heavy amounts of side-eye he was getting from his partner. “What? Ran out of stuff to point out, doesn't help that everything here is red.”
“Creative…” Clover murmured, “why do you insist on these stupid games? Since when did it become required? What’s wrong with just sitting back and driving?”
“Cause it’s fucking boring.” Pie groaned, “everything here is so monotone it makes my eyes hurt.”
“Then why don’t you take a nap and let me ride in peace.” Clover proposed, still refusing to take his eyes off the road.
“And if the staff-Sergeant finds out?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about the color-Sergeant, chances are-“ Cutting himself off, Clover jammed his foot on the pedals as the truck calmed to a jerked halt. “Ah fucking- what’s with these shites?” He cursed, the MRAP in front of them having suddenly stopped.
“I don’t know, think it’s just a red light, or that they’re actually having difficulties?” Pie asked.
“Nah something’s going on.”
Circling around to the right of the MRAP, the turret came round, as the gunner practically jumped out of his position, frantically waving off the truck. Igniting in a bright flash, the side of the MRAP seemed to erupt, as a bright jet tunneled it’s way through the armor. A microsecond later and the interior of the vehicle was consumed by a small sun. The armor plating was just strong enough to contain the explosion, as windows shattered and fire funneled up through the turret. Engulfed in flame the pressure launched the gunner from his position, flung several feet into the sky. Meanwhile the rest of the passenger and the interior of the vehicle appeared to vaporize, leaving black scorch marks as the fire dissipated. A second later and the gunner plummeted back down, landing with a thud and crack as he landed head-first into the windshield of the truck, while his body came to rest on the hood, the MRAP a smoldering wreck before them.
The whole situation flashed before them, powerless to do anything to stop it. Adrenalin began to pump into their blood as the shock wore off, fumbling with their rifles, throwing their doors open before jumping to the ground. Down the column it became clear that others were doing the same, more silver suited soldiers leapt from their vehicles and frantically pointed their rifles up at the buildings surrounding them.
Running over, they pulled on the gunner's uniform as they dragged him down from the hood of the truck, the lower half of him still smoking, despite the fact that it seemed the FPS suit seemed to have done its job. Carrying him over, they propped him up against the side of one of the truck’s large tires.
“Is he dead?” Clover asked, standing back as Pie hovered over the body.
A slight electric humm pitched in, as a call came across the radio, “All callsigns I need a report from the front of the column, I say again, I need an immediate report from the front of the column. Why have we stopped?”
Pie swiftly turned to his radio, “This is Havoc-4-5, Corporal Pie, front escort got completely fucked, L-T, we have multiple casualties and need medical assistance.”
“Hey!” Another soldier called, racing towards the front, “The fucks going on, why’ve we-“ they attempted to ask, before a sharp hiss sounded through the air, and the soldiers feet were swept from beneath them, falling flat on their back with a scream.
Soon enough another snap sounded, followed by a crack, in the distance, in an alley far from the vehicles, an orange flash outlined a figure for a split second, before a metal spark erupted from an armor plate on the truck. “We’re under attack!” Clover shouted, shoving himself against the truck for some sort of protection.
A whole storm broke out soon after, shouting coming down the line of trucks, before the occasional snap and pop turned to a barrage of rumbling gunfire. Muzzle flashes appeared from windows and alleys from both sides of the streets bearing down on the column. A response came from the soldiers not a moment later as they fired up at the fleeting glimpses of figures.
“Front of the column is taking fire, I say again, the front of the column is under attack. We need some help down here.” Pie barked into his radio, before picking up his rifle and joining in the return-fire.
The soldier that had been shot running over to them, still lay on the ground, clutching at his leg, screaming his lungs out. Clover slung his rifle across his back, sprinting out to the man as bullets hissed by. “We gotta get you outta here man!” He yelled, slinging his rifle before harshly grabbing the soldier, by the material of his uniform, before dragging him across the asphalt, leaving a thin red line trailing behind him. Shattering sound of bottles began to echo around as puddles of flame appeared on the ground. Clover propped the soldier up against the relative safety of the truck. Digging around through the pouches on his rig, he pulled out a nylon tourniquet, binding it around the soldier’s leg a couple inches above the hole in the uniform where blood appeared to be gushing out of, “Brace yourself this is gonna hurt like a bitch!” He cautioned, the man hummed in affirmation, holding a tight grasp of his own leg. Counting to three mentally, Clover pulled and pulled on the strap till it could go no further, as the soldier visibly tensed and locked up before going slack once more a second later. “MEDIC!” He shouted down the line, cupping his hands around where his mouth would be to amplify the sound.
Pulling his rifle off his shoulder, Clover tapped Pie on the should, “The fuck are we doing here? We’re totally exposed!” Shouting just to be audible over the roar of gunfire.
“I don’t know!” Pie responded, “it’s fucking chaos across the whole column!” Snaps of gunshots continued everywhere, as their apparent assailants appeared to grow bolder. Appearing from every nook and cranny between the skyscrapers and tall apartment complexes, figures began moving forward, as demons dressed in suits and slacks began to close the distance. “Just keep fucking shooting at them!” He ordered, firing a burst at the nearest figure who appeared to drop to the ground.
“Hey!” Another voice shouted from down the column, as a soldier wearing a band with a green cross around his arm sprinted up to their location accompanied by a couple other regulars. “Where was he hit?” The medic asked, pointing toward the soldier slumped against the truck.
“Just the leg from what I saw!” Clover responded.
“Alright, keep me covered, I’ll see what I can do!” They stated, rapidly beginning to tend to the man.
“Havoc-4-5, I need an assessment-“ the radio pinned to Pie’s uniform crackled, barely audible over the noise of battle, “how many casualties have you taken?”
Looking back at the wounded man being tended to, and then to the flaming wreck of the MRAP escorting them, Pie clicked on his radio, “At least four, sir, three dead, one wounded.”
“Roger.” The cool voice of the Lieutenant responded, “I need your honest assessment, can you hold your position?”
Time seemed to slow, as Pie once again scanned across the chaos. Puddles of burning petrol on the ground, silver suited soldiers practically standing in flames. Noticing one soldier, recoil back before placing a hand on his chest as his vest caught a bullet; noticing another duck and wince as a bright spark of metal emanated from the truck just beside their head. Finally he looked back at the wounded man again, wincing and tenseing at every movement as the medic injected him with morphine and dressed his wound. “Negative, sir, we’re being hit too hard, situation’s completely fucked.”
There was a long silence over the radio, before it finally crackled to life again, “Roger that.” It simply responded, “Attention all units, attention all units in vehicles one through four collapse your defense and consolidate toward the back of the column. I say again, fall back toward the back of the column.”
“Clover!” Pie shouted, as his friend soon appeared at his side, “get the cargo outta here, I’ll cover you.” A single pat on his shoulder told him all he needed to know.
Racing around the back of the truck, Clover slammed his fist into the cargo bay door twice, before levering open the armored doors. Falling open they revealed a series of seats lining the bed, a dozen people kitted out in light hazmat equipment and construction gear ducking down toward the middle, cowering in safety. “Listen up!” Clover called, as the goggled eyes of the workers turned toward him. “We’re in a tight spot, but we’re going to get you all to safety. Just keep your heads down, stick to the trucks, and only move when I say so. Understood?” He asked, as the pleading eyes barely visible behind those goggles gave him all the answer he needed. “Alright. We’re moving to the back of the column. First few of you, climb down already.” He stated, jumping down from the bed, as he took cover between the vehicles, the workers closest to the door followed suit.
Clover peeked out from the cover, looking down the column to ensure they had a clear path. Jumping out he waved for the workers to follow him, “C’mon! Move it people!” He ordered, as the first of them peeled out and began sprinting down the column, followed by the next, and the next. “Go, go! To the end of the Column!” He shouted, as they formed a thin line along the trucks, weaving their way around soldiers while bullets hissed all over. Jogging alongside them, Clover kept his eyes peeled for anything aiming directly for the workers, when he saw a pink cloud of mist come from the side of one of the workers before they clattered down with a yelp and scrambled to all fours, clutching at their side. Sprinting over, Clover picked them up by their shoulders, “Pull yourself up!” He ordered, wrapping one arm around them and pressing an open palm into the gash on their side causing them to emit a gritted scream, which petered out to a groan. “We are leaving!” Practically picking up the worker, Clover dragged them along as the rest of them continued running past, rising along to safety.
One dropped as another seemed to just take their place, or at least that’s how it seemed, as Cpl. Pie fired at one flash just for another to appear. Yet some of the weight seemed to lift off as he watched the last of the workers leave, as he no longer had to worry about the non-combatants.
A tap on his shoulder drew his attention, as he turned to be confronted with the reflective visor of the medic. “Hey, I’ve done what I could, but I need to move this guy.” They stated, pointing a thumb over their shoulder at the slumped body of the injured soldier from earlier, now tangled in bandages. “Cover us will you?”
Pie waved for the man to take the lead, running back to the injured soldier. Shakily, the medic aided the soldier to stand on their one good leg before gradually helping them gobble down the sides of the trucks. Meanwhile Pie and the other soldiers fired at everything they could, purposefully standing in the open to draw fire away from the medic. Their retreat was gradual, however it was progressing.
Whatever optimism there was didn’t last. Crossing between a pair of trucks, Cpl. Pie could only helplessly watch a ball of fire rushed through, tackling the Medic and injured soldier as both were launched across the street, before falling motionlessly to the ground.
The orb of fire remained stationary, gradually disintegrating til it revealed a top-heavy demon. Clothed in a charred dress-shirt and slacks, with worn suspenders to hold them up. The exposed arms appeared covered in matted fur, yet its head appeared as that of a ram yet totally skeletal, a pair of horns emerging from the back, wrapping around to the front and ending in a pair of sharp points just past its nose. Turning sharply, a pair of glowing green eyes, lacking pupils, on either side of the skull, while an additional third one started from the center of it.
Lurching forward, the demon built speed impressively quickly despite its shorter legs and cloven feet. Barreling through the next nearest soldier, the demon’s arm appeared to coat itself in flame as it struck the man and sent him careening off to the side. Rapidly raising their rifle, the next closest soldier soon suffered the same fate, barely getting a shot off. Pie had his rifle leveled and sent a volley at the demon, though it merely ducked its head, a shield of fire appearing over its horns as the bullets were merely absorbed. In a last ditch attempt at salvation, Cpl. Pie attempted to back away and run, though he had hardly made it two feet before he felt the horns of the demon strike his side, as he was launched in an upward motion from the charge.
Everything seemed to dissipate for a while, the ground gone, as Pie hovered in the air, with a strange peace at hand, making all the chaos that unfolded seem so distant. Before the world turned white, he heard the sound of his own bones crunch as the asphalt road rapidly reappeared beneath him. Pain shot through his spine, yet he lacked the energy to scream or call out for help, as his mind felt fuzzy and bells rang.
Vaguely, Pie could hear the static of his radio buzz on, “All units, this is a general retreat order, I repeat, fall back to the Embassy. Escort vehicles provide cover as the non-combatants and transports get out first.”
Just like that the sound of gunfire already seemed to die down, as the sustained thuds of heavy machine guns became dominant. Yet even those began to fade into the distance and soon disappeared altogether. However the peace of silence was seldom offered, as the crackle of fire and the groans of the dying filled the void.
Short lived as it was, even those sounds would be driven back into the background as voices approached. In Pie’s own ears they were little more than mumbles as a monotonous ringing filled the inner cavities of his mind. Yet they grew closer and closer, and even accents eventually became discernible.
“-Hey, Valter! Catch!” One voice shouted.
“Quit screwing around!” Another voice, one naisilier and higher pitched, ordered. “Is that one alive? What’s his rank?”
“Just, gotta green cross on ‘em, boss.” A deeper voice with more base responded.
“And that one down there? How many chevrons on ‘em?”
“Just two, boss.” Yet another voice responded, one hovering just above Pie, as he could hear it most clearly. Yet his eyes would only project the world as white, as thus he couldn’t make out a detailed shape.
“You gotta be fucking me.” The nasally voice continued, “Two? We bagged a fucking Corporal and that’s fucking it?” The figure groaned, “kill the other one, we’ll take ‘im then.” He ordered, as soon after a pop sounded from down the street. A series of footsteps clattered closer toward him, as whoever the nasally voice belonged to appeared right beside Pie. “Congratulations, Corporal, you’re coming with us.” The figure mentioned, appearing to hover over Pie, as he lay motionless. Through the white he made out a second rough outline, however one thing he did recognize were eight piercing red eyes, in clusters of four, with three small ones surrounding one big one.
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The Embassy had been in a buzz, long before Collins and Phillis arrived, yet the chaos remained all the same. Intelligence officers, researchers, mobile task forces, and even minor staff all racing around as if a crisis had just unfolded. For all they knew it had . Maneuvering between personnel, they gradually managed their way down the embassy corridors that, now crowded with people, were so narrow.
In the distance Collins spied, now Major, Butler, standing across from another man, one with a silver bar on his collar and shoulder. The Lieutenant saluted Butler before briskly marching off, as whatever conversation the two were in seemed to have ended. Butler didn’t linger though as he soon moved off himself, “Captain!” Collins shouted, halting the man, “wait, no, -Major, Butler!” He yelped again, correcting himself as he squeezed past other researchers, as the Major waited with impatient eyes. “Butler, what is going on, what’s with the chaos?” Collins asked.
Butler rolled his eyes, “No time, Doc, I have to manage my deployments.” He began marching off, leaving the Doctor without answers, “if you need updates speak with the Administrator in the War-Room.”
“But-“ Collins uttered.
“War-room.” Butler simply repeated, before continuing on.
Collins scratched at the coarse stubble on his chin, “since when do we have a war-room?” He asked, turning to Phillis.
“He probably means the embassy’s central command room.” She hypothesized.
“Then why wouldn’t he call it that?”
“Because… he’s a soldier?”
“Fair point-“ Collins admitted, “Come along, let’s see if Dr. Wilcox won’t give us some answers.”
The ‘war-room’ as the Major called it, was hardly any better than the rest of the embassy, apart from the fact that it was mostly MTF officers and senior staff, alongside stricter admission, forcing Collins to flash his clearance card and excuse his assistant. Within, all kinds of terminals, computers, and other apparatus lined the walls, all hastily installed when the Foundation had to convert the shell of a building it had once been into what is now the embassy. Central to these operations was a large central table, with Administrator Wilcox scouring over what maps, both digital and physical, that the Foundation had of the city. Laptops and computers scattered around, while several other close staff were crowded around.
“Administrator Wilcox!” Collins greeted, as the disgruntled man’s face turned toward him, clearly no happier to see him than the Major was.
“I was wondering when you’d show your face.” Wilcox mentioned, almost resentfully as he turned back to his maps. “You’re not needed, Doctor, we have the situation in hand.”
Feeling well and truly ignored, Collins looked around the room, “May I at least know what everyone else is buzzing about today?”
Wilcox turned back toward Collins, the same grimace on his face, as whatever was happening certainly had him in a twist. “Our ‘war’ with SCP-666-3-VA has escalated, compared to the previous small skirmishes, they’ve grown bolder. You were correct one of our convoys was attacked-'' his tone tending as he continued, “attacked in the territory of the De-Vito crime family.”
For a moment, Collins swore he could feel his heart stop, as it seemed everything seemed so close to crumbling down. “T-that can’t be-“
“Show him.” Wilcox ordered, as a laptop was pushed to the front. A flash drive sticking from its USB port as a video displayed on screen. “This arrived shortly after.” He explained before tapping the spacebar and playing the video.
Displayed centrally was a young man, in their mid twenties, tied to a chair. His head hung, their face hidden, while the silver protective suit and stripped military equipment identified them as part of the SCP Foundation. A voice, so censored and garbled to a point of incomprehension, asked something from off screen. The man responded weakly, “Name: Alexander Eversmith, rank: Corporal, serial number: 3141592653, call sign: Pie.” A fuzzy black hand reached from off-screen and grabbed the Corporal’s face, lifting it up to reveal it. A single seemingly unharmed yet bloodshot eye appearing as the only intact part of his person. The other being swollen and blue, while the rest of his face was littered with cuts and bruises, as blood funneled from his nose and down his lip. The garbled voice repeated their question off screen. Weakly, the Corporal repeated his previous response, “Name: Alexander Eversmith, rank: Corporal, serial number: 3141592653, call sign: Pie.” The hand let go, as the soldier hung his head again, quietly murmuring to himself. Before the hand brought a claw-hammer on screen.
Sensing the worst would happen, Collins covered his eyes as his ears informed him of the horror well enough. The wet splattering sound followed by the crunch of bone, all while the visceral guttural screams of the Corporal were more than anything he could have ever wanted to hear. When all had eventually subsided, the Corporal still appeared to be breathing, though to say that his condition was rapidly deteriorating would be an understatement.
“We’re unsure as to why they sent us this, no ransom was asked for, potentially just to taunt us or send some sort of message.” Wilcox explained, as the laptop was taken away again. “As careful as they were with editing and delivering that video, they were sloppy in the immediate aftermath of their attack. Some vehicles that were seen in the region in bodycam video and by other patrols were later spotted again at a nearby dilapidated office complex in the same area. Major Butler has already put a team together to investigate.”
“Let me guess, Mjolnir?” Collins asked rhetorically, as Wilcox silence gave him the answer he already knew. “That’s sketchy intel, are we certain?”
Wilcox sighed, not hiding the fact that he held the very same concerns as Collins, “We have some other minor threads tying them to the building but we’re fifty-fifty on whether or not they’re keeping him there. Either way we need to act, it’s only a matter of time before they move him or kill him.”
“Well, let me help, I can-“
“No!” Wilcox stated firmly, interrupting the Doctor. “We had an agreement, Collins, if your plan went off without a hitch you’d stay on. Now you’re off.”
“W-what?” Collins asked, almost unable to believe what he was hearing, “I know I fucked up, but you can’t just throw me out like this without-“
“Seven men are dead, Collins!” Wilcox shouted, as the air was sucked out of the room, with seemingly all other personnel ceasing to witness what was happening. “We took seventeen casualties in total, all because you rushed through signing treaties with these gangs that we hardly know anything about.” He emphasized, not at all hiding who he thought was at fault. “No other treaties have been broken so far, but we’re going to have to increase patrols in those regions since it’s clear we can’t trust these -things, which draws away resources that we could have used to protect our convoys in the first place, which only slows down our construction.” He finished his rant before going to pinch the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes for a moment in order to focus. “I told you that your decision making was in question.” He stated, reopening his eyes with a renewed coolness. “Since then you’ve had yourself willingly kidnapped, signed these treaties that we now can’t trust, and revealed the identity of every member of Mjolnir-3. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but it’s clear you’ve gone off the deep end.” Wilcox stepped forward, becoming more direct with Collins as his tone mellowed out. “You’ve made immense progress down here, Collins, but your recent decisions have been troubling. Your off till Site-727 reaches minimum operational capacity, that should give you a good amount of time to clear your head. Go on vacation or something.”
Collins looked around the room again, the various faces of people who worked in the embassy he helped build staring at him. He had been the driving force to get the Foundation this far, and now it had all turned against him. All he could wish for now is that he’d had taken the Administrator and his assistant’s advice and held off from the treaties. “This assignment has been my lifeblood, Administrator. I understand what I caused, but I can’t just leave it like this. Please, let me help fix it in some way.” He pleaded.
Wilcox sighed, “I expected you’d say something like that. It’s admirable that you love your work, Doctor, but this is a situation best resolved without your assistance.” He responded coldly, turning to walk back towards the table, “If you’re adamant about working, then go show SCP-666-2-BA to his work station, he was cleared yesterday evening. After that we’ll see.”
Finally the rest of the personnel in the room seemed to lose interest in the drama, as they gradually went back to their assigned jobs. Leaving Collins to wallow in his own personal dissatisfaction. “Come along Phyllis.” He stated, turning to leave as he beckoned his assistant to follow.
“Actually-“ Wilcox spoke up before giving them the chance, “Ra. Phyllis will stay, I have other work for her.”
Surprised, Phyllis' gaze shifted back and forth between the Doctors, seemingly looking for some kind of affirmation. “Well then, so long Phyllis.” Collins stated, giving her a single pat on the shoulder, before he continued out, alone.
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A deep drag was taken from a cigar, the heat from the smoke filling the lungs before being expelled back into the office air. Notes of cashew and coffee permitting the air, as pure white, frowned, eyes stared through a large window down at the hordes of the damned that roamed the streets, appearing like ants scuttling around. Directly across from the window was a sharply polished pine desk, one so lacquered you could almost see your reflection in it.
Sharply creeping from the far end of the room, a door swung open, as a sharply dressed demon just peered their head through. “Don, the Vs are here to see you.”
Giving a guttural groan, the heavily furred spider wearing a fedora, that stared out the window with his pure white eyes, sighed before he raised the cigar to his lips once more and let off another puff of smoke. “Send, ‘em up.”
Not a moment later and the demon was gone, as the door squeaked back shut.
“Arackniss!” He called out, as his shadow seemed to appear out of thin air. Another spider, skinny and short, yet with eight piercing red eyes and dressed as sharply as would be expected in the mob. “Anything from our Human friends?”
“Nothing yet, boss.” Arachniss responded, with a mellow yet heavily accented tone. “They’re certainly in a tizzy after the tape, but our lookouts haven’t seen anything suggesting either retaliation or negotiation, yet.”
Humming, the figure considered his options as he puffed his cigar once again, “Set up the contingency, just in case. We’ll see if Valter’s trick will work twice, if not, we won’t have to worry about ‘im, just make sure the Humans don’t get what they’re after.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Arackniss responded plainly, disappearing once again, the squeak of the door being all that announced his departure.
Moving over to his desk, the spider took one final puff to the cigar, letting that old familiar smell fill the air once again, before laying it down on the edge of an ashtray that rested on the desk. Rolling back the plush leather chair before it, he allowed himself to drop into it, before rolling back forward, crossing his arms and leaning back as he waited for his visitors.
Rather than the previous quiet squeaks of the door opening and closing, this time it swung open violently, slamming against the backing wall, as a loud bang announced the entrance. Followed by Valentino, Vox, and Velvet prancing in as if they owned the place, shit-eating grins on the first two while the last showed little more than total indifference.
“Henroin!” Valentino greeted loudly, throwing his hands up as if there was some sort of great joy in seeing him, yet his face still carried that same slyness that he was famous for. Remaining unphased the spider didn’t welcome them, rather not fixing his attitude in any way as his disgruntled frown remained and, if anything, seemed to worsen. “Great to see you too.” Valentino continued, Vox remaining in his shadow, while Velvet marched across the room and threw herself into some chair and began typing away on her phone, as if she were some angsty teen forced to come along. “I heard of your great score this morning, I’m so glad~ that our alternative arrangements brought such fruition.”
Henroin’s mood certainly didn’t improve, a sharp scowl crossing him. “Cut the shit Val, you don’t know the half of it.” The plastered joy on Valentino’s face quickly disappeared, as Vox briefly broke character and gave a confused glance toward Valentino, clearly not fully informed of the situation either. “You said you’d done real work with this one, that it’d be a proper score. Apart from some fancy rifles, there was nothing. A fucking construction crew and building materials.” Instinctually, he reached for the cigar though restrained himself, placing his hand back before him. “I know you don’t half-ass shit, Val, you fucked me on purpose.”
“Hey, listen up, shit stain-“ Vox attempted to counter before being cut off.
“Vox!” Valentino shouted, “shut- up-“ he ordered as the other overlord quickly restrained himself, “You and Vel both get outta here, we need to speak privately.” Velvet rose and marched back across the room, hardly a care in the world. While Vox, though initially complying, stopped for a moment, looking back with a certain gaze before continuing again. The door squeaking shut behind them. “Now-“ Valentino continued, “It’s good to know that you still have your senses about you after all this time, because I need you to continue.”
“I’d tell you to go fuck yourself if I didn’t know you enjoyed doing that.” Henroin scowled, “You’re lucky that I’m willing to cut my losses rather than outright turn against you.”
“I’ll double my offer for the next one.” Valentino offered.
With a sharp and grunted laugh, Henroin hardly considered the offer. “You’d have to quintuple it for me to even begin considering it.”
“I have time-“ Valentino mentioned, moving forward as he took a seat at the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Let’s negotiate~”
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“So, we don’t know the floor layout, how many bad guys are inside, or that the guy we’re looking for is even there. No overwatch, no recon, pretty much no intel whatsoever.” Adela repeated, following after Ward as the embassy grew in distance behind them, with the rest of Mjolnier-3 behind her, while Sergeant Ward had just relayed them on the plan. Adela took a brief gaze down the line of masked faces. “Just another everyday suicide mission.” She mentioned.
“Yup-” Ward mentioned, “Just like Quebec City a couple years back.”
“Yeah- at least there we had an air support hovering nearby, in case shit hit the fan.” Adela added.
“Which it did.”
“Hey Sand-“ Françio called out, “isn’t that the one where you fried your NODs?” He asked.
“You can’t talk-“ Sandman responded, “I had to bandage your ass up, some medic you were during that one.”
“Enh, c'est comme ça, would’ve done it myself if I hadn’t had to shoot for you. You know, cause you were blind.”
“I’ll take that to mean that you’re all solid then.” Ward interrupted before any more banter broke out, as they arrived beside an unmarked black van. Though it didn’t have the armor of an MRAP, it would give them the discretion needed to get close without being immediately spotted and ambushed. “We jumped into Hell with less intel, this’ll be nothing.” Ward affirmed, a slight smile of pride on her face.
“You guys know that, with these kinds of odds, I wouldn’t trust anyone else with it.” A recognizable voice called, as another soldier, with oak leaves pinned to his uniform, marched up in full kit. “Besides, there’s no one else I’d rather fight alongside.” The wash of pleasantly surprised faces came exactly as expected.
“Not interested in playing this one out from behind a desk, Sarge?” Ward asked, though she already knew what the answer was going to be.
“C’mon-“ Butler reacted, “the first real op we get down here and you expect me to experience it from behind a desk?” He asked, once again rhetorically. “Hope you don’t mind me taking point, Sergeant.”
“Just like old times.” Ward commented as the rest of the squad began filing into the back of the van, with Ward and Butler taking the driver and passenger seats, respectively.
“Mind if I ask you something, Sarge?” Sandman asked, as he was getting his equipment seated away.
“Shoot, Corporal.”
“Not meaning to sound insubordinate, but the Foundation seemed to push you up the ranks pretty fast, even skipped some; did you ever even go to officer school?”
“Are you suggesting something funny is happening behind the scenes?” Butler asked, though with none of the stern gruffness that would imply anything serious. “In reality it’s a lot more mundane. I was a Captain in her majesty’s armed forces before joining, even had my own sortie and everything.”
“That’s fancy British speak for detachment.” Adela clarified.
“We know.” Alphonse responded.
“Just translating for the Americans.” She teased.
“Har har.” Ward added.
“Anyhow-“ Butler continued, “when I joined, I was evaluated and considered best suited to just lead a single squadron. With the creation of MTF Xi-1, and the need for officers, I was reevaluated and my prior experience was deemed suitable. Apparently they were so impressed by my work that one promotion just wasn’t enough.” He finished, as the vehicle finally began to move.
Though the van was certainly not as spacious as an MRAP was either, and with three fully armed soldiers crammed into the back, plus heavy equipment, It certainly made them feel packed in. All that was secondary, however, as they knew what they were settled in for. Their journey was quickly interrupted, barely having pulled away from the Embassy entrance before a rapid series of knocks bashed on the passenger door.
Ward brought the vehicle to a stop as Butler rolled down his window, to be confronted by another soldier of MTF Xi-1; the silver suit of the man was covered in scorch marks and grime. Seemingly freezing for a moment, the man jumped to attention, “Apologies Major-“ the man stated, a sharp twang in his accent, “Havoc-4-6 reporting, sir.”
“Havoc?” Butler murmured, “It’s a shame what happened to your team-“ Butler spied the single chevron on the man’s shoulder, “-Private. You got something for me?”
“Rumor travels fast, sir, I heard you're going after Havoc-4-5. You see he’s a- well he’s a friend, sir. I know this is out of bounds but I’m asking to join you on this mission.”
Butler stared past the man for a moment, carefully considering the odds. “We’re already down a man and- hell, the fact you survived that ambush is proof enough for me. Get in, you’re our number five for this one.” Butler turned toward window that let him see the soldiers squeezed into the back. “Make space fellas, we’ve got a guest joining us.” Meanwhile the soldier ran around to the back of the van, popping the doors open as he clambered inside. The doors shut behind them, as the van veered down the road again. “One last thing, what’s your callsign, kid?”
“Clover, sir.”
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Back in the pristine white halls of Site-56, and sooner than Collins expected, he carried on his duties as he was expected to but his mood certainly wasn’t there. His head held just aloft enough to see where he was going as he proceeded past cell doors, holding a set of black clothes in his arms, with an added lab coat that had the circular logo of the SCP Foundation on the back.
Finally he spotted one steel door in particular, a plaque above it reading: B-327 , infront which Collins stopped. Swiping his card on the reader, a slight beep Emirates from the machine as the reinforced steel door slid to the side. Collins physically felt his mouth drop open slightly as he gazed within. Clad in his issued orange jumpsuit, the short fish demon sat hunched over in one corner of the cell, viciously scribbling, as scribbling of mathematical equations, formulas, blueprints, notes on concepts so far out of his field Collins didn’t come close to understanding. “When you said you needed markers I assumed it was for the paper you’d previously requested?”
“Oh!” Baxter reacted, turning as he sat up suddenly, a broad smile across his face. “I ran out-“ he stated simply, gesturing towards a few large stacks of papers neatly compiled on the floor. “The walls were a good substitute.”
Somewhat mindlessly, Collins gazed over some of the work on the walls, trying to understand what little he could, some of it began to seem familiar. “Are these the notes and blueprints you gave us?”
“I didn’t give them to you-“ Baxter corrected, “You took them, separated me from my work, just before you locked me in here.” He jumped up and raced over to Collins, “my things.” He stated, practically clawing them out of the doctor’s hands.
“Oh- um, yes, I was supposed to inform you that you’ve officially been approved to work for the SCP Foundation.”
“Ah, see!” Baxter reacted, barely stepping and turning away from the Doctor before he already began to tear off the orange jumpsuit. Leading Collins to turn and step out the door. “See, that! Is why I liked you guys. Perhaps a bit brash and rough, but you guys know what you want, and are smart enough to get it. So I needed to keep my mind on track.” Barging through, Baxter shoved past Collins, now dressed in his previous black coat with the Foundation lab coat overtop, which, despite being the smallest size available, still seemed just slightly too big on the scrawny demon. “You know how many idiot crime lords I’ve worked for down there? Each one demands very complicated things, without the slightest clue of how to get them.” He explained, now holding a large stack of the notes that were previously in his cell, “Oh! Don’t forget the rest of my notes, I need those.”
Collins looked back into the cell, and additional three piles of notes stacked up on the floor. “Phyllis we-“ he started turning, expecting her to be there, except she wasn’t. “Right.” He continued over one of the intercom consoles on the wall. Pressing the button to his department he spoke into the speaker, “Taylor, you’re my assistant for the day, get down to cell S-087.”
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Marching on beside the fish Demon, who carried a fair stack of his own notes, Collins held out a clipboard halfway between them, jabbering on about protocol, codes of conduct, testing procedures, and all the other formalities that came with a professional position. Meanwhile he completely ignored Taylor behind them, who struggled along carrying the majority of the papers out of Baxter’s cell, consistently narrowly avoiding dropping the stack which continued to buckle and sway all the while.
“-So, let me make this clear, you are not to leave or contact anyone outside of the facility, after today there will be security outside of your room who will escort you wherever you need to go within the facility.” Collins reiterated, reflecting both the genuine concerns and potential dangers that come with having an entity loose in the facility, but also integrity of what he was attempting to do, naturally having an entity loose in the facility due to his own actions would reflect poorly on him. “I hope you understand that these are just precautions, I’m sure that as we build trust that we can eliminate some of those.” He added, finally looking down at the demon beside him after having largely had his eyes locked on the clipboard before him. Baxter, rather, hadn’t been lookin at the clipboard at all, rather, with wide eyes and a toothy smile on his face, he was staring directly up at Collins. “What?” He asked uncomfortably.
“Just analyzing you.” Baxter responded simply, squinting his eyes somewhat. “You seem different compared to when I first met you.”
“What?” Collins asked again, cocking his brow, “What do you mean? How am I different?”
“Well-“ Baxter began, “Judging by the sudden degradation in the outward cortical control over your-“
“In English, please.” Collins interrupted.
“You seem, um- down?” Baxter simplified awkwardly.
“Huh, tell me about it.” Collins scoffed, after being chewed out by his boss, having his assistant taken away, and being essentially softly fired from the project he had been driving for close to a year at this point, he was hardly in the mood to be psychoanalyzed by a fish. “Lets just keep things professional, your workstation is just up ahead.”
Leading the Demon through another reinforced steel door and into a spacious white room where Baxter was to spend most of his time. Within there were tables and white boards lining the walls, an intercom system beside them door, alongside racks of test tubes and beakers, burners, circuitry, and so much more, that the Fish Demon’s bases would be covered for just about all basic experimentation within any of the sciences. Sloppily dropping his paper on the nearest table, Baxter excitedly ran between the stations, analyzing all the equipment he had been given.
“You may play with everything in here as you wish, however you are expected to deliver results on projects assigned to you.” Collins begrudgingly explained, almost certain that the fish Demon wasn’t really listening. “Additionally you will be monitored at all times.” He added, pointing up at one of the black domed cameras mounted to the ceiling.
Just afterward, Taylor finally stumbled through the door, throwing the towering stack of papers onto the nearest table, letting it fall as a couple dozen sheets slid off the top of the stack and fluttered to the floor. Collins just sighed and rubbed his brow, he’d never get used to this again.
“Hold on.” Baxter scampered over, sifting through the scattered pile of papers on the floor on all fours like a goblin, before he finally pulled out one sheet in triumph. “Here I made a list of the materials I need.” He explained, practically shoving it into Collins’ hands.
“I haven’t even-“ Collins began, gradually losing focus as he read down the list, his frown growing heavier as he read further and further down. “Oh-Kay…” he resumed slowly, “the fuck even is half of this stuff? The rest is so classified I’m surprised you even know about it. Either way-“ Collins stopped abruptly noticing Baxter staring at him with half closed eyes and a surprising level of sternness in the Demon’s face. “Look this isn’t playtime for you, you work for us, and we don’t trust you with nuclear isotopes yet.”
“Fine-“ Baxter groaned, “what’s my first assignment then?” He asked, with a level of boredom that the Demon previously seemed incapable of.
“Well-“ Collins prefaced, retrieving a small plastic bag containing a perfectly symmetrical glowing white rock, with blue streaks through it that almost seemed to pulsate. “We recovered-“ Baxter instantly dashed over to his side, staring at the object with wide eyes, like a moth to a lamp. “Ob-ject… would you mind?”
“Oh, yes, sorry.” Baxter apologized, backing away a couple feet.
“Like I was saying, we recovered this being used as ammunition. We dismantled it and found that the rest of the cartridge was nothing out of the ordinary, only this strange material being used as a bullet.” Opening the bag, Collins pinched the bullet with two fingers as withdrew the object from the bag and placed it on the table.
“Y-you, touched it?” Baxter asked, “Fascinating!” He commented, scrambling around the room as rapidly tore through different drawers until he finally returned with a pair of pliers, with which he delicately used them to pick up the bullet. He analyzed every inch of the projectile, rotating it around before his eyes. “Incredible…” He murmured.
“So… you know what it is?” Collins asked.
“Of course!” Baxter reacted, “You’d be hard pressed to find a Demon who doesn’t.” He chuckled, as if the answer was obvious. “This, right here, is forged from the blade of an exterminator’s spear.” He cocked his eye at Collins, “You do know about the exterminators, yes?”
Now it was Collins’ turn to state the obvious, the large clock-tower in the center of the city, with Next Cleanse plastered on it and a ticking clock counting down to the end of the year, didn’t leave much to the imagination. It was a fairly immediate topic of conversation among the first round of interviews at the Hotel and later with Lucifer. “Yes, yes, they come down from heaven to quell Hell’s overpopulation problem. Let’s move on.”
“Well, you know of a Demon’s healing factor, we tend to be quite resilient-” Baxter continued, almost seeming to ramble more to himself rather than actually be explaining anything to Collins. “This material completely cancels out that factor, the slightest cut will never heal, even just touching the material can burn a Demon’s skin. But not a Human’s apparently.” He contemplated, “Perhaps the most important property being its absolute elimination of the soul. A Demon killed by such a weapon will never rematerialize.” He paused for dramatic effect, “at least those are the traits I’m certain of, there are numerous more that I theorized of however have never had a sizable enough testing pool to confirm; like it being a pure element, the methods in which it could be reshaped, and how it may parallel hellish energy.”
“Fascinating- '' Collins hummed, with a slightly dismissive tone, though scratching his chin as he considered the potential. He turned toward Taylor behind him. “Please tell me you were taking notes on all that.” His new assistant stared blankly at him, curly hair falling into his face, as his hands contained neither pen nor paper. Collins groaned, “We’ll get it off the security recording later.” In his mind he punched himself for not thinking of this sooner. Phyllis had always been ready for these sorts of things at the drop of a hat, he’d grown too used to that.
“Are you alright, Doctor?” Taylor asked, a clear anxiety in his tone, undoubtedly not helped by his boss’s recent snappy nature.
“Yes I’m alright, why wouldn’t I be alright?” Collins responded brashly.
“Well, sir, it’s just that you usually seem more- excited? When making discoveries like this.”
“Oh leave him be-“ Baxter interrupted, hardly paying any actual attention to the conversation at hand as he was still busy staring at the rock. “He just got dismissed from work and lost his assistant, and really isn’t handling it well.”
“How do you know any of that?” Collins asked, turning back to the Demon with a certain glare.
“Simple deduction.” Baxter answered, “Besides most people would consider me socially deaf, so you don’t hide it particularly well.” He elaborated.
“Oh, I’m sorry if something happened with your relationship with Phyllis, sir.” Taylor offered.
Collins turned back to him, a sharp frown on his face, “what do you mean?” He asked, “What relationship?”
“Weren’t you and-“ the assistant began, quickly stopping himself as he realized his mistake, ducking his head down as if he was a turtle trying to retreat into his shell. “You know, sir, just ignore it, I didn’t mean anything.”
“Fucking talk, Taylor.” Collins demanded, sternly staring through the man.
“Well, I- uh, we thought you two were… a thing?” He stuttered.
Collins scrunched his face up, “According to who? Who told you all of this?” He asked.
“I-it’s just a rumor, sir… she was always very vocal about… well, I-I think Phyllis has a crush on you.” He finally relented.
Collins just stared wide-eyed at Taylor for a while, finally smushing his hands into his face, “Can somebody please shoot me.” he mumbled, finally realizing why Phyllis always seemed so prepared, alway gave full effort, and always went above and beyond. It wasn’t because she was passionate about her work in the same way that Collins was, it was because she wanted to impress him. “I swear to god, I’m never taking on another assistant again.”
“Would you kindly mope somewhere else?” Baxter interrupted, still staring at the rock. “ You’re disrupting my observations.”
Collins exhaled deeply, “Baxter, you have seven of those, go nuts, I want you to find out everything about this ‘element’.” He ordered, turning to Taylor next. “You, listen, these rumors end now, it’s unprofessional. Me and Phyllis never were and never will be in a relationship, that is the end of it and I never wanna hear anything to the contrary. Got it?”
“Y-yes, sir.” Taylore replied skittishly.
“Alright-” Collins considered, breathing deeply a couple times as he tried to clear his brain. “I have- a lot to think about. I’ll be in my office.” Not even taking time to see if his orders sank in with the other two, Collins swiftly turned and marched his way out of the room.
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Nothing seemed to suggest anything was amiss, that the mobsters knew of their presence, or that they were even there at all. From the team’s position, with the van parked in an alleyway across the dilapidated office complex, the place seemed dead, then again, so did most of the neighborhood. Whatever truly lurked behind the charade of shattered windows and crumbling wallboard was a mystery. At least for now.
“The fuck are we waiting for, coast looks clear.” Clover stated impatiently, peering past the Sergeant and Major and through the windshield.
“Assurance, kid, assurance.” Butler explained, with all the disgruntled tiredness of a single father of four, “I’m not charging us in there without even knowing if the enemy’s in there.”
“Bad timing, Sarge.” Ward mentioned, causing Butler’s head to snap back around to the front, “See that guy there?” She asked, pointing towards a dark clad figure, one who appeared dressed in a suit and fedora, yet all other features remain hidden, yet had the digitigrade legs of an animal. Gazing back and forth, up and down the street, before finally slinking away inside the building. “Looks like one of the ones that attacked the convoy, doesn’t he?”
“Sure does.” Butler confirmed, “Ward, pull the car forward, park us parallel to the building.” He ordered as not a moment later the van veered out of the alley. Butler’s hand snapped to his radio, “TOC, this is One, can confirm, site is owned by Kingfish, requesting green for go.”
A woman’s voice came over the line, “Copy, One, Mjolnier is confirmed green, I repeat, you are confirmed green, backup team is in place in case things get dicey. Happy hunting.”
Butler turned and peered into the back, where the rest of the squad resided, “We’re green, get saddled up, we’re jumping as soon as we stop.” Not a second later and the others immediately began rattling their rifles and checking their equipment one last time, as the van rapidly veered across the street.
Bumping up just slightly as the wheels rode up the sidewalk, the van came to a sudden halt as Ward pulled up the break. Swinging open dramatically, the rear doors on the van gave way as Adela, Sandman, Clover, and Alphonse jumped out of the cramped interior, aiming their rifles true, scanning windows and corners. Ward and Butler exited the driver and passenger doors respectively, running to get to the front of the formations as the others formed up behind them.
Approaching the double-door entrance, Butler held out a flat hand pointed to the curb at the side of the building, just before the front door, which he continued past. Taking cover against the wall on the opposite side, the others stacked up in order of squad numbers. “Check the door.” He ordered, nodding his head to the side.
Creeping forward, Ward cautiously touched the door handle of the door closest to her, gently turning it just ever so slightly, “Unlocked.” She confirmed.
Butler took the other door Handle, rotating it fully, as, in synchronicity with Ward, they creaked open both doors, just enough to peek the muzzles of their weapons through. Ahead a short corridor, a partially collapsed check-in counter to one side followed by two office doors before terminating in another set of double doors, with large frosted glass windows. Beyond nothing appeared to be visible as the corridor was cast in shadow, as the overhead lights were shut off.
Scanning up and down for traps and wires, nothing of concern appeared, as the entrance seemed safe. With a slight push the two doors opened fully with a slight creek, as Ward and Butler entered side by side, while the rest formed up behind them. “TOC, we’ve made entry.” Butler whispered into his radio. “Lowlight, NODs on, we do this quite.” He ordered, reaching up before pulling the optics down in front of his eyes, illuminating the world in a radiating green glow.
Remaining in two parallel groups, Butler, with Adela and Alphonse behind him, hugged the right side of the corridor, while Ward, with Clover and Sandman behind her, stuck to the left side. In formation they continued on, a contingent of six glowing sets of eyes moving through the corridor, till they reached the two side doors.
“Three, Five, clear.” Butler ordered, him and Ward stopping just past them, Adela taking the right door as Clover took the left. Each carefully enters, disappearing for a second, before re-emerging. They patted their leads on the back to let them know, before the group continued on.
Reaching the door at the end of the corridor, Ward and Butler again went to open them, when a flashing beam of light, one almost blinding within the night vision’s glow, appeared across the glass. Reacting instinctively both of them threw themselves against the walls, back as far away from the window as they could. With rifles raised, they watched the light closely, as it moved around at a slow pace, as if whoever shone it was casually looking around, nothing to suggest they were spotted. Just barely audible through the door, were voices. Not long after, the outlines of two figures, one taller and rounder, the other shorter and stalkier, both appearing to wear hats of different kinds, jaunted past the glass.
Crouching down low, Ward crept across the hall to Butler’s side, careful so as to not make a sound. “If we take them, they can tell us where they’re keeping Havoc-4-5.” She whispered.
“Just what I was thinking.” Butler agreed, waving over the rest, the squad huddled around the Major. “We need to know where they’re keeping Havoc, Three, Five, knives and cable-ties out, don’t shoot unless you have to, even then we need these two alive. Two, Six, assist with restraints, Four and I will act as security.”
Letting her machine gun hang from its sling, Adela drew the large Bowie knife from behind the pouches on her chest. “Dibs on the short one.” Patting Clover on the shoulder, she went in front to lead the charge, as everyone else formed up again. Counting off mentally, Adela crept through the doors, entering into a large square atrium, a pair of staircases confirmed in the middle while a series of columns lined the edge, she could see the two demons patrolling the edge of the room, shining around flashlights.
Taking a deep breath, Clover tried to calm his nerves, before drawing the bayonet from the scabbard that hung off his belt; an antiquated tool, yet still a perfectly fine weapon. Following the Specialist’s lead, he kept behind the pillars as they slowly made their way toward the Demons; their apparent conversation became ever clearer.
“-Haven't been to a single one of the shows?”
“Just isn’t my kinda scene, Prendimi? Besides, people like that, they suck you in, they want you to be obsessed with ‘em.”
“Ah cazzate-”
“Don’t use that against me, it’s the only Italian you know, coglione.”
“Still, it’s Hell, just go out an-” Suddenly halting, the shorter of the two demons, words got caught as they felt the sharp edge of a knife pressed into their throat.
“Another word, and you’re dead.” Adela warned, sweeping the legs out from under the demon as they were forced to the ground, Clover doing the same to the taller one beside hers. Ward and Sandman came up next, keeping their weapons trained on the demons, as they were tied up like hogs with the plastic restraints. Returning to their knives, the two demons were rapidly frog-marched back over to the hall. The door shut behind them, the whole ordeal lasted just a minute.
“Light.” Butler requested, Ward activated the light on her rifle, forcing her to remove her goggles due to the glare they caused. She shone it into the smaller demon’s face, lined against the wall, Adela still holding her knife to its throat to keep it compliant. A fuzzy creature, coated in matted, grey, fur accented by a quatro of pale yellow eyes. “A man’s being held here, one of us, tell us where.”
Blinking rapidly at the light, the demon squinted. “Cosa dia- idiota, il capo ti squarcerà e farà di te la sua puttana. Pezzo di merda, stronzetto-“ rapidly raising his voice, the demon began to struggle with his restraints.
Butler waved his hand up at Adela, the signal was clear. Shoving her hand over the creature’s mouth, she withdrew the Bowie-knife before plunging it into the side of the being’s neck. An inherent panic set into its eyes, going wide and bulging like golf-balls, struggling more as the soldier forced its head ever harder into the wall; there was resistance against the blade of the knife before it popped and suddenly slid smoothly through till it came out the other side. Gurgling, the Demon choked on its own blood for a second before its eyes rolled back and it went limp. Withdrawing the blade, Adela removed her hand, letting the corps role to the floor.
Butler moved over to the next demon, as Ward shone the light into its face instead. Being held against the wall by Clover instead, it was of similar composition to the other demon, yet had only one large eye in the center of its face. “Now, tell us where-“
Having witnessed the murder beside them, their eyes were already wide with fear, causing them to blurt out the answer in a panicky yelp; “third floor, main studio, center of the room.”
Happy with his results, Butler quickly moved on. “How many are you.”
“I-I don’t know-“ the Demon answered, continually staring back and forth between the lifeless body on the floor and the cold visor of the Major. “A dozen at least.”
“Where?” Butler asked calmly.
“I swear I don’t know, we had rotating patrols, anyone could be anywhere.” Panicking, the demon nodded in desperation, trying to get the soldier to accept the answer.
“That’ll do.” Butler murmured, growing silent as he began compiling the info. “Kill ‘em.” He briskly ordered.
For a moment, Clover just stared at the Major, a slight confoundment as he looked back at the Demon, a still gaze having overcome it, as they stared mindlessly through space. He looked back at Butler, a certain part of him wanting to say something but-
In a sudden fury the Demon charged forward, barging through Clover, whose bayonet sliced the being’s neck but not nearly enough to kill it. Thrown back by the suddenness of it, the demon managed to begin sprinting down the corridor, heaving in disparity as it tried to escape. With her rifle already raised and aimed, thanks to the light, Ward reacted and pulled the trigger. A series of suppressed though still loud shots echoed through the otherwise quiet room. Having found their mark, a series of bloody spots soaked through the demon’s jacket as a now second corpse lined the hall.
Butler turned to Clover, “Don’t you ever hesitate over a direct order, like that, again.” A clear fury in his voice despite the fact that he kept his tone quiet. “Fingers crossed they didn’t hear that. We need to move.” He ordered, leveling his rifle, the rest of the squad rapidly formed back up behind him, including a shaken Clover, as the team continued on.
Despite the shots, it seemed the mobsters in the building weren’t quite onto them yet; the patrols they saw were clear on the lookout for intruders in addition wielding sub-machine-guns and rifles at the ready as they patrolled. Fortunately the Demon’s estimate seemed in the right ballpark, there were too few of them for how big the building was, meaning the team was able to continue through unnoticed. Most patrols could be avoided, as they were forced to take out only a couple more Demons, as they made their way. At the same time they continued their pattern, two groups on either side of the hall, clearing rooms along the way to ensure a secure route, as they slowly made their way toward the studio room.
Peeking around the corner at a bend in the hall, Butler spied a Demon leaning against the wall beside a door, across from him another one, just a bit further down. Unlike any others they’d run into, which were usually at least in pairs, they were alone and stationary, as suggested by the steel chair situated beside them, rather than actively patrolling. Time was already no longer on their side, they were taking too long, making the odds of finding Corporal Eversmith ever thinner and the chances of them being discovered grew. They were already on the third floor, the studio couldn’t be much further , Butler rationalized as to justify what he was planning.
Signaling for the rest of the squad to follow, he rounded the corner, quickly lining up a shot on the demon before squeezing off two shots. The demon went down with a yelp and a groan, as it lay rolling on the floor; not exactly the stealthiest of kills, but there wasn’t time for that anymore .
“Squad, weapons hot, shoot anything that moves. We need to pick up the pace.” He barked, firing another round at the demon on the floor as it finally ceased in its motions. “Three, Five, clear left and right, make it fast.” Butler ordered as they passed the doors.
Adela ran further ahead, as Clover was left with the door the Demon had been guarding. With no more time for discretion, he brazenly swung the door open before throwing himself inside and swinging his rifle around. Something caught his attention leading him to pause in the center of the room. Turning, he went to go call the Major-
A mass fell upon him as Clover was suddenly forced into a struggle with a figure he couldn’t even fully analyze due to the goggles covering his eyes. In a blur, the lying lunged at him, topeling him to the ground with it atop him. Barely making out its arms as it appeared to raise them up, brandishing a weapon of some sort. At the last second, Clover raised his arm blocking the strike as he felt the beings fist hit his forearm, he also felt a sharp pain across it as he watched blood drip from an open gash in his suit onto his visor.
Keeping up the pressure, the being kept pushing down, laying more and more of its body weight into the strike, as he began to just feel the tip of the blade begin to push against the material of the protective suit. In a frantic desperation, Clover fumbled for the sidearm strapped to his leg. Sloppily drawing it from its holster, as he pointed it up at a ninety degree angle and pulled the trigger. The loud echoe of the unsurpassed cartridges discharging sounded like fireworks, only muffled by being pressed directly against his assailant. He pulled the trigger again, and again, firing five shots in total, until the being stopped pushing and allowed itself to be rolled off.
Jumping to his feet, Clover kept his pistol pointed at the Demon, who, he could now see, was similar in construction to the two they had apprehended downstairs. Firing one final shot, a crimson spatter of blood appeared on the ground under the Demon’s head.
“Five, you alright?” Butler asked, charging in alongside sandman, rifles waving around, looking for any other threats in the small room, which was really only double the size of a broom-closet at most.
Breathing excessively, Clover returned his sidearm to its holster, holding his breath for a moment to calm himself, before picking his rifle back up. “Y-yea, yeah. Fucking bastard jumped me.”
“Sarge, you’re gonna wanna see this.” Sandman called, standing at the opposite end of the room, just before a whole rack of rifles, sub-machine-guns, and shotguns, alongside crates of explosives and a couple RPG rocket launchers resting in the corner. Most peculiarly, was a rifle Sandman picked off the floor, a handful loosely assembled there; specifically it was an HK-416, tricked out with an optical sight, sound suppressor, laser, and all kinds of other gizmos. Far too fancy for gangsters, in fact they were practically identical to the rifles they themselves were carrying.
“From the convoy?” Clover asked.
“Fuck.” Butler cursed, pausing for a moment as he considered how to proceed. “They’ll definitely have heard those shots.” He mentioned, “C’mon we gotta move.” He beckoned, as the other two followed him out and back into the hall. “Three, frag that room, we’re not letting them keep their trophies.” Adela began pulling plastic explosives from her pack, as Butler preoccupied himself with his radio in the meantime. “TOC, this is one, we’ve gone loud, repeat, we’re loud. Nearing objective alpha, continuing with mission. Have the reserve squad on standby, we’ll need them for exfil.”
The woman’s voice came back over the line, “Copy all, One, the secondary squad will be awaiting your signal.”
“Are those charges set yet?” Butler asked, twisting back to Adela.
“It’s yours, boss.” She confirmed, passing the detonator to the Major.
“Let’s move!” He ordered, taking off in a sprint down the corridor, as the others quickly followed suit. Once a good distance was made, he slowed just slightly; looking back, Butler held out the detonator, unlatched the safety and squeezed it.
Fire bellowed from the doorway of the room, as the chain reaction of explosives tore through. The building rocked in the aftershock, as black smoke and dust blew through and billowed from the smoldering remains. They’d definitely hear that .
Luck finally appeared to be helming them along, as signs, reading: Main Studio, tacked onto the walls started to appear, each with a large arrow to point them the right way. Everything was so close and within reach, as they spied another sign, one so dilapidated that it barely still clung to the wall, situated above a door that simply read: Main Studio. That feeling of being close and on the right track was only reinforced by the fact that a handful of the sharply dressed demons were situated before the door, crowded around a table with a deck of cards spread across it, though none of them were playing anymore. So close yet so far.
They’d already handled plenty of the demonic monsters, a couple more shouldn’t be a problem, Butler considered, at least not ideally. Urgency was in the air, as there was no time for delegate strategies, as it was only a matter of time before more showed up or till they executed Havoc-4-5. Shouldering his weapon, yet hardly aiming it, Butler began to throw lead at the Demons. Hissing bullets passing by, as it took a couple before the demons fully realized what was happening. By the time they’d turned and drawn their weapons to confront the soldiers they were already under assault by a full barrage. Only a couple return shots were fired, till two of the Demons became visibly injured and one fell to the floor unmoving, providing enough motivation for the remainder of them to get cold feet and begin to scamper in the opposite direction, still firing off pot-shots back.
“Three, Six, hold this position while we get Havoc.” He ordered. Sandman diving for cover in the doorframe, while Adela moved over to the cards table, grabbing it by one edge, before violently flipping it on its side, sending playing cards flying and fluttering around like leaves in Autumn, finally she rested her M249 on the side of it as she crouched behind. “Two, door.”
Ward cautiously turned the door handle, “Unlocked” she replied.
“Stack up, we’ll flash it.” Butler explained, drawing a thin grenade, hexagonal, with a grated cover, from his vest. With two fingers he braved to pull both the triangular safety and circular primary pins from the flash-bang.
Ward held up three fingers, mentally counting off as she lowered one, getting ready for whatever was on the other side, she lowered a second, as it was at last time, she lowered the last, forming a fist with her hand. Jamming down the door handle, she brashly opened the door just enough for a hand to fit through, as Butler simultaneously pulled both pins, letting the grenade spoon fly off before he reached through the crack and tossed the grenade into the room. As soon as he’d withdrawn his hand, Ward slammed the door back shut.
Thus they waited again, with ample anticipation, reading their weapons, counting off mentally: three, two, one. BANG ! They could see the bright flash of white light emanate from under the door, before Ward rapidly forced the door back open as she entered, rifle first. With the smoke from the flashbang still dissipating, there was mild interference with the night vision yet most was clear. Rounding the corners they gradually moved through the room, which was largely empty, only containing the leftovers of some recording equipment and an area in which a set once resided, yet clearly hadn’t been used in a long time. In the center of it all, a murky puddle of browned blood, which didn’t imbue them with confidence. Regardless they checked every corner, other than trash and dust, there was little of interest; one point of interest however, was a door to the side of the large room, the frame for a plaque still being present, yet what it denominated was long missing.
That would have to wait however, as a couple pops followed by the buzzsaw sound of machine gun fire echoed from the hallway behind them, before ceasing shortly thereafter. “Three, report.” Butler ordered.
“Some of our buddies from earlier showed up, they jumped pretty fast. My gut’s fucking killing me, took one to the chest, I think.” Adela rosponded.
“Copy, get in here, make sure you're good.” Butler responded, turning to Ward next, “Two, replace her out there, don’t want us to get jumped.”
“Got it.” She replied, jogging out toward the door, just as Adela had made her way in.
“Four, check Three, make sure she’s good. Five, with me, we’re taking that door.” He stated pointing toward the door they’d spied earlier, meanwhile Alphonse rushed toward Adela, who was already inspecting her equipment to see if anything went through.
Lining up on either side of the door, the rhythm and system of it all had long set in, Butler Keeping his rifle trained forward as Clover gradually reached out toward the door handle, preparing for whatever was there to greet them on the other side.
For milliseconds, only barely going slow enough to even perceive, the door creaked and groaned buckling from some force behind it. Clover only just had enough time to hesitate, before the center of the door began to splinter and crack, before it erupted exponentially, splitting in two as a bright force charged through. Ramming through, the door’s bottom half was forced into Clover, hitting him with such velocity it flung him off his feet, while the upper half was launched across the room. Only narrowly being behind enough cover to avoid the projectile door, yet his vision was blinded by a sharp flash that came through after it, before permeating his vision with dust and smoke.
Particles returned to their place among the floor as light gradually penetrated the cloud, a flickering light which burned a bright orange and yellow. An orb of fire was revealed, through it a top-heavy demon was barely visible. Worn suspenders held up a pair of slacks, a charred dress shirt had its sleeves rolled up exposing arms covered in matted fur. Its head being a skeletal form of a ram, with a pair of horns emerging from the back, wrapping around to the front and ending in a pair of sharp points just past its nose. A trio of glowing green eyes, lacking pupils, on either side of the skull, while an additional third one started from the center of it, gazed through the flame toward the Major.
There was a tense standoff for a second, which Butler soon broke, raising his rifle. Being only feet away, the Demon reacted faster, its fist becoming coated in a fiery shield before it delivered a swift lower punch to the Major’s gut, followed by a second across the face, hitting with such force that the goggles mounted to his helmet were ripped off, as he himself tumbled to the ground, narrowly catching himself on his forearms. Another sharp jab to his side forced him to roll over, through blurry vision he could see the large demon glaring down at him, its fist still in a fury blaze as Butler helplessly watched it lurch up as the Demon prepared to bring it back down upon him.
Spatterings of red-hot light sped across Butler’s vision, the sound of buzz saws echoing across the room. Above him, the Demon flinched, seemingly being grazed by a couple of the projectiles, before they leveled the shield of fire, absorbing the remainder of the bullets.
“Hej! Ty demoniczna suko!” Adela shouted across the room, standing with her machine gun leveled at her hip, as she taunted the Demon over.
Thudding heavily, with cloven feet, the Demon stepped over Butler, squaring itself off against the other soldier. Entering into a duel, as it lit up the fiery shields on both arms, Adela pulled up the top cover of her weapon and checked her ammunition. Each having the other well in their sights, the duel started with full frontal charge from the Demon, its horns coating itself in fire as it sprinted forward to ram the soldier. Leveling her weapon, Adela squeezed the trigger tight, her weapon almost vibrating out of her hands, its barrel beginning to smoke as lead continued to pour from it. With it’s shields firmly in place, none of it bothered the Demon as it continued on its headstrong charge without hesitation. Waiting until the last possible moment, the Demon was barely a meter away, as she finally stopped firing and dove out of the way, as the demon crashed into the wall.
Meanwhile, Alphonse had arrived at Butler’s side, having crept around the edge of the room while Adela distracted the Demon. “Majeur? Majeur!” He called, pulling the seal off of Butler’s suit before taking off his helmet. Butler looked around in a daze, as the medic shone a light into his eyes. “Pupils seem fine, dilating normally, no apparent strain- One, can you tell me where you are? What you’re doing here?” He asked.
“I’m- uh…” Butler stuttered, rubbing his eyes as he tried to refocus, and the blurriness finally left him. “I’m, we’re rescuing Cpl. Pie, inside- we’re inside that office building we were scouting.”
“Clear head injury, probably not a concussion, a mild one at most.” He explained, placing the helmet back onto the Major as he resealed his suit for him before beginning to help him back to his feet. Though initially promising, Butler stumbled over his own feet as his mind seemed to be spinning inside his skull. “Okay, maybe a concussion.” Alphonse confessed.
Just a short distance away they spied Adela being flung across the room, colliding with the wall before tumbling to the floor. The Demon redirected its focus back onto the Medic and the Major, glowing green eyes staring through them. Alphonse scrambled for the sub machine gun hanging from his side as the Demon lurched forward and began sprinting into another charge.
Just recovering from getting a door thrown at him, Clover rubbed his head as he gradually pushed pieces of the splintered door off of him, bringing himself up to a kneeling position. He saw Alphonse helping Butler, likewise he saw the Demon lining itself up for a charge directly at him. His mind flashed back to what the Major had told him just earlier that mission; Don’t dare hesitate . With his rifle god knows where, and bullets clearly ineffective against it, his mind jumped to the one solution he could think of. Seeing the Demon begin its charge, Clover scrambled to his feet, drew his bayonet from its scabbard, he took a note from the Demon’s playbook, and began sprinting directly for it. Intersecting it just meters from Alphonse and Butler, as Clover leapt forward with arms outstretched snagging the being around the neck, pulling it off balance causing it to stumble off to the side.
With one swift stroke, Clover jammed his bayonet down right into the area between its collarbone and neck, feeling no resistance whatsoever, as the blade sliced through nothing but muscle tissue. Reacting, the Demon reached up behind him, attempting to scratch, claw, and pull the soldier off. Yet Clover held on tight, using the knife as an anchor-point, driving the blade ever deeper, causing blood to seep out from the wound. Hunching forward, the Demon tensed sharply, as a wave of fire cascaded over its back, engulfing Clover in the process.
For what it was worth, the fire suits prevented him from getting burned directly, yet within, the temperature was rising rapidly. Clover felt a sharp, boiling, pain on his arm, one that coursed through his nerves up his arm; only then he remembered the scuffle he’d had against the other Demon in the weapon room. They’d slashed his arm with a knife and his suit was compromised, causing flame to now bleed through in a concentrated line. Feeling the skin on his arm begin to cook and his blood boil, Clover gritted his teeth, almost feeling them crack beneath the pressure, growling gutturally, as squeezed the knife harder with his hand attempting to transfer as much of the pain as possible. As if matters couldn’t get worse, he could hear pop, reminiscent of firecrackers, coming from his vest, as his tired ammunition began to cook-off and explode. Yet he held on all the same, he just had to hope that his vest would catch the majority of it.
Adela crawled to her feet to the side of the room, seeing Clover wrestle with the Demon she realized he had the right idea. Ignoring the pain she felt across her body, she drew the Bowie-knife from behind the pouches on the front of her chest, beginning her own charge. Rushing forward, knife first, she jammed the blade into the Demon’s side, just below the ribs, pushing with her full body weight as she attempted to pull the being to the ground.
Having sequestered Butler off to the side, as he recovered, Alphonse saw the whole ordeal ensue, as the two soldiers attempted to wrestle the Demon down. Seeing it tip and tumble, he realized that it needed one final push. Sprinting forward, he braced against his arm and shoulder, before slamming his weight into the Demon, as it finally toppled over, landing on its face as it went limp on the floor. Clover rolled off and Adela backed away, as Alphonse put a foot on its back, drawing his submachine gun and aimed it at its heads, learning out a long burst of fire, its skull splintered and send bits of debris flying from the impacts, before it's glowing eyes finally went dull.
Panting hysterically, Clover tore off his helmet, his skin almost glowing bright red due to how hot it was. Alphonse ran over once more, pulling a canteen and bandages from his gear, as he immediately began pouring water over the severely burned skin on Clover’s arm.
Though his mind was still somewhat fuzzy, Butler had largely come to his senses, “Two, sitrep.” He barked into his radio.
The sound of gunfire was audible from outside, “These fuckers are really pissed, whatever we’re doing we need to do soon before we get pinned down.” Ward yelled.
“Roger, Two, collapse your defense into the studio.” He ordered calmly, crouching down as he picked up his rifle off the ground, spying the room the demon had emerged from, which they had yet to clear. “Four, is he stable?” Butler shouted.
“Stable, yes, able to fight?” Alphonse replied, looking over Clover, with severe third degree burns on his now bandaged arm and with likely first degree burns scattered over the rest of his body, “Less so.” He concluded.
“When you’re done, join Two and Six in defense. Three you’re with me.” He commanded, as everyone ran to their respective station; Adela joined him as they simultaneously entered into the small side room.
Within, there was little to suggest what the room’s previous function was, a collapsing bookshelf across the door, a table missing half its legs against the wall, and a window on the far side of the room looking out over the cityscape. Centrally, however, tied to a steel chair was exactly who they were hoping for, a human male in tattered equipment and still wearing his silver protective suit, with his head hung as he sat slumped over.
Butler cautiously approached the figure, as Adela scanned the room. The man’s face was battered and bruised, one eye swollen shut, a broken nose, and bleeding cuts and scrapes littering his face. “Havoc-4-5?” Butler asked, crouching down as he touched the man’s shoulder.
Wheezing slightly, the man coughed sharply, hacking up blood which he spat onto the ground. Struggling to raise his head, sitting more upright, he opened his one good eye as far as he could, revealing a spider web of bloodshot veins surrounding the pupils. “A-affirmative.” He responded weakly, struggling to push the air, which was mixed with both mucus and blood, out of his lungs in order to speak words.
“Hang tight, we’re gonna get you outta here.” Butler reassured, rising as he swiftly went for his radio. “TOC, we have a positive ID on Havoc, we’re moving toward exfil, requesting second squad for assistance…”
As Butler made his radio call, Adela continued inspecting the room, scanning for trip-wires, explosives, anything that would suggest a trap. Finally coming to the window, she gazed out at the city skyline, monotonous red buildings stacked in layers miles deep. Yet, as she was about to turn and leave, her eye caught something, a glint in a window across the street. She squinted, attempting to recognize some further details, noticing what, at this distance, appeared like a series of red dots, and the outline of… a rifle. “SARGE!” She yelled, recoiling back, practically leaping atop the Major, as she pulled him to the ground, the sound of glass shattering following shortly after as an instant later a hole was punched out of the opposing wall, right where Butler’s head had once been. It was only then that the echo of the shot rang through. Scrambling back, Adela reached out to try and grab Cpl. Pie, right as another pain of glass shattered, and she saw a pink mist emerge from the side of the Corporal’s head as his eyes began to roll back into his skull.
Notes:
So how was it?
I always get anxious when posting chapters like this, as it doesn’t have much of the Hazbin characters in it.
Like I said, the second half of this should be out soon.Additionally, I set up the system for people to submit stories to the the Redacted Files, full info here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/13A6Tycb6SzuPkao9oiiEC_CT3zobHskNzaWizycmaus/edit?pli=1
The same link is also available through the first chapter on the Redacted Files.Otherwise if you have feedback or improvements then I’d be glad to hear it, otherwise nice words are also appreciated.
Thank you for reading.
Chapter 16: Aftermath
Summary:
The aftermath of the ambush on a Foundation convoy and the attempted rescue of Havoc-4-5 by Mjolnir-3.
Notes:
This took a bit longer than expected but here it is, this is essentially the second half of the plot that began in Chapter 15.
So without further ado, I hope you enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 16: Aftermath
It all felt very exciting, that similar feeling to the first day of college, where everything feels unshackled and limitless. Yet there was the fear too, fear of the unknown, fear of doing something wrong. Then again being fresh on your own, with demons surrounding you, and some of the biggest spooks in the Foundation breathing down your neck, didn’t exactly bring Phyllis a lot of comfort for her first independent assignment. Despite the fact that she requested Xi-1, Administrator Wilcox insisted on Alpha-1, despite insisting on council with Dr. Collins, the Administrator swore her to secrecy, despite insisting on access to greater notes and information, she was left with many vague descriptions and a single photo. What was the point of finishing off Dr. Collins’ work if she hardly got to know anything about it?
Dr. Collins, whatever his motivations, had conducted several interviews with Princess Charlie about the process in which sinner demons spawn in Hell, along with all the technicalities that came with that, such as how individuals may change and where they may fall. Of course Phyllis had been present for most of these interviews, yet she didn’t have the practical experience that Collins quite had. Regardless she drummed up everything she could remember, when Collins heard of it she wanted to make sure he’d be proud. Even if the Foundation barred her from telling him herself.
Nevertheless, she knew where she was supposed to search, and who she was supposed to search for, the ‘why’ just wasn’t quite all there. Then again, she may be privileged to that in time. For now she scanned over a variable sea of the damned, with the occasional one falling through the clouds and landing in the district square. New arrivals that, just like the Foundation a few months ago, had no idea what they’re getting into.
She had already compared her limited notes and references to a number of recently fallen Demons, none of which matched in any way. Yet one demon in particular parted the clouds, at a distance where they were but a black speck in the sky. Yet as they grew closer, something appeared intriguing about them. She wasn’t sure what it was, perhaps something about their general structure, or coloration, perhaps it was something more subconscious that she couldn’t quite put into words.
By the time she had reached the location toward which it had been falling, the Demon had long since landed. Laying on the floor it appeared relatively humanoid, like most other Demons, of average build, a light skin color, with a slight turquoise hue, yet had a complete lack of hair instead replaced with a series of barbs lining its head. Groggily raising itself from the floor, their face lacked a nose and had a pair of small fangs protruding downward from their lips. Yet their eyes appeared the most captivating, appearing pure white and lacking pupils but with a pitch black iris circling the center.
“Wait wa- that symbol.” It stated, pointing up at the SCP logo adorning the silver suits of the Alpha-1 members. “I-I… do I know you people?”
“Ah, you recognize us, that’s a start.” Phyllis mentioned, ignoring the question the Demon posed as she returned to her references. Gazing back and forth between her reference image and the being before her. “Well, the differences are apparent, but that was to be expected, yet the similarities are there.” The Demon raised a hand to its head, covering an eye, as it gradually attempted to rise to its feet. Waiving a hand, Phyllis motioned to the soldiers, as the members of MTF Alpha-1 surrounded the Demon. “I’d suggest you remain seated for now, you took quite the tumble.” It scanned the rifle wielding soldiers and chose to follow Phyllis’ suggestion. “I’m going to ask you some questions, just answer them as best you can.” Phyllis explained, with the demon drearily looking at her. “You already recognize our logo, do you know what the acronym ‘SCP’ stands for?”
Breaking eye contact, the Demon stared at the floor, appearing deep in thought. “SCP, S-C-P…” they mumbled, “Safe? Security- Secure, yes Secure… C… C-C, C-”
“That is, enough, it’s fine if you can’t remember the rest.” Phyllis interrupted, “Do you remember your serial number?” she asked.
Lighting up at the question, the Demon blurted out; “88-028473” before pausing to process what they had said. “T-that, was a number I was supposed to remember.”
“That’s not…”
“Ma’am.” one of the nearby soldiers interrupted, holding the side of their rifle toward her, she scanned the side of it until her eyes were drawn to a long number printed in white beginning with 88- followed by six additional digits.
“Interesting.” She murmured, scribbling down a number of notes. “Memory issues are apparent, however, if the princess it to be believed-”
“Princess?” The Demon reacted, “I remember a princess, I- um, yes, blond, red eyes, red suit, I-I spoke with her.”
“-those should clear up.” She finished, checking her notes one last time she knew she had who she needed. “This is the one, sedate him.” She ordered. Stepping back from the Demon, one of the soldiers restrained them, while another drew a hypodermic needle from a pouch. Plunging the needle into the Demon’s neck, the plunger was forced down, and, after a few seconds of struggling, the Demon went slack. Falling back against the cold concrete floor, before being dragged off by the members of Alpha-1.
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“Hey, Clover!” Butler called out, as the member of Havoc-4, had rapidly made himself scarce after they’d returned from their mission. Between the injuries the team had sustained and needing to escort the body of Corporal Pie to the portal that led to Site-59, there had been little time to coral the soldiers together as they were largely left to their own vices. Rather than being found in the usual hotspots for most soldiers, canteens or bunks, Clover was seated among the rows of chairs at the front desk of the embassy. Half his kit was stripped off, his skin still had a red hue to it yet had started to pale out again, while resting his recently bandaged arm on his knee, as the man had been staring off into space before suddenly being jolted out by Butler’s calls. “How’s the arm, kid?” He asked, approaching, with Ward at his side.
“Oh, it’s- um… alright?” He responded, holding the arm in question out before him as he inspected it. “Docs said it’s too early to tell how much feeling I’ll regain around it, palm’s started to feel tingly though, so, eh. Said it would scar badly too so-“
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with scars.” Ward interrupted, tapping her cheek on the burnt side of her face. “Besides, they say scars are sexy.” She shrugged.
Walking across, Butler took a seat opposite Clover. “Gotta say I’m surprised, I thought you would have rejoined the rest of your squad.”
Clover chuckled slightly awkwardly, breaking eye contact, “I’m with all of Havoc-4 right now.” He stated somberly, “Me and Pie were the only members of the squad who survived that ambush, and, well now, I’m it.” He explained, looking back up at Butler, the glint of tears in his eyes. Noticing, Ward moved over and placed a hand on the Private’s shoulder, silently offering her support. “Chances are, Havoc-4 will be dismantled and I’ll be assigned to another squad in Havoc or be cycled into another platoon entirely.”
“I’m sorry, kid, I didn’t know.” Butler apologized, hanging his head slightly, “You got anyone at home?”
“Just parents.” Clover responded simply.
“Alright, I’ll make sure you get some leave soon then.” He mentioned softly, pausing before as he considered if the next thing was truly appropriate at this time. “I hate having to force this onto you so shortly after everything you’ve lost, but I need to make sure I do it before some other bigwigs get to you.” Clover stared straight ahead, tentatively listening to the Major. “You did good today, kid, fought well. As you know we recently lost our number five, and, well, I wanna offer you a position on Mjolnir-3.”
“You second this?” Clover asked, gazing up at Ward with a certain gleam in his eyes.
Technically being the new leader of Mjolnir-3, since Butler’s promotion, it was her call on whether or not he was in. “We’re not desperate, Clover, and we’re certainly not shy on candidates, so when the Major says we were impressed by you, we mean it. So, yes, I second it.”
“Like I said, I’m sorry I have to do this now, it’s just-“
“No-“ Clover interrupted, “no, it’s alright.” He rose from his seat, clasping his heels together as he saluted the Major, “Private first class Quincey reporting for duty, sir.”
Butler smiled up at the soldier, chuckling to himself just slightly, before rising himself and standing face to face with him. “At ease, Private.” Clover let himself take on a more relaxed stance. “Look, I appreciate the enthusiasm, kid, but don’t rush. It’s ok to mourn. Besides, I need that arm healed up first.” Butler remarked, giving Clover a few brief pats on the shoulder, before leaving him once again. Smiling to himself all the way, he was just happy to have a good catch to fill the gap in Mjolnir.
Naturally, Ward followed after Butler as they began their way back to the barracks within the embassy. Yet as they tracked along, Ward recalled something important, which she wasn’t sure could wait any longer. “Hey, Sarge, speaking of leave I’ve been meaning to ask something.”
Though he turned toward the Sergeant with a raised brow but otherwise kept walking, “you and boys need a couple extra days? I know I pulled you guys back pretty soon after the funeral.”
“No, no, it’s not- well it’s kinda, what I mean is-” Ward stuttered, pausing as she took a breath and reorganized, “I’ve just been struggling with some ‘stuff’, Devis’ funeral among them. Thing is, I don’t wanna deal with the families, or being asked to speak about him, or really just civilian life in general.” She reiterated, “So, I wanted to ask if I could take leave down here, in Hell.”
Butler frowned, not in any way that denoted anger, just in confusion, taking a couple seconds to make sure he understood. “Are you ok, Ward?” He asked, squinting suspiciously at the Sergeant; hearing him say her name openly was weird, as they usually only ever did so while on leave, any other station was almost always callsigns. “I understand what you're saying, but if you want to get away from people, go on vacation; if you can’t afford it, request a voucher, I’ll see if I can’t push it along.”
“No, Sarge, I’m fine, more or less.” She affirmed, if anything today had been proof that she was perfectly fit to operate. “It’s difficult to explain, but I just think it would- just- help my mind settle.”
Butler groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he thought, “Listen, you know I need you at a hundred percent, and if you truly think this’ll help you then I’m willing to sign off on it.” He relented, “But you're not going alone, pull some of our guys from their bunks and take them with. Keep out of any part of the city that isn’t firmly allied or controlled by the Foundation; Stay in full kit too, radio if there’s trouble.” Gazing down at his wrist, his watch read: 18:21 . “Twenty-two-hundred hour, I want you back before then.” He explained, laying down ground rules as if he was a father with his teen during a late night outing. “I don’t know if this is allowed or not, just know that I’m trusting you on this one.”
“We built Mjolnir together, right?” Ward asked rhetorically, a smirk crossing her face. “You can trust me with anything, Sarge. And- thank you.”
With limited resources in Hell, deployments were likewise limited. There were only a couple small barracks within the embassy, just to allow a couple squads to rest while still being immediately available. Otherwise squads would rotate out, being sent back to Site-59 as others are brought in. Unfortunately for Mjolnir-3, they’d made a Name for themselves within MTF Xi-1, being both the Colonel and Dr. Collins’ favorites, there was reluctance in sending them away; making one of the barracks essentially theirs. Not that they’d have it any other way.
In a typical soldierly fashion, as Ward entered their Barracks, it was expectantly slovenly. Though there were strict rules against filth and structural damage, for the sake of the health of the men within, they were otherwise largely free to do with the room as they pleased, so long as they performed well. Thus, posters, pin-ups, and trinkets were scattered around, bed sheets were undone, alongside different parts of uniforms lying about. Overall it was to be expected, provided they clean for the occasional inspection, it wasn’t an issue.
Adela’s head snapped up as Ward entered the room, “Hey, Two-Face, you see this?” She asked, her torso just covered by a tank-top, twisting to get different angles in the mirror beside her bunk, as she inspected a large purple and red bruise covering the lower left side of her torso. “I’m gonna be fucking purple for weeks. I thought the mob only used tommy-guns, or some shit; gotta be at least 7.62 that did this, right?”
“Nah, it was probably a .22.” Radio officer Daniels remarked, laying back in his bunk.
“Let’s hope it wasn’t, cause we’re back in the barrel again.” Ward interrupted, as all heads darted toward her.
“Two, missions in one day? C’est juste adorable.” Alphonse commented.
“Adela, Sandman, with me. Rest of you get to chill.” Ward ordered.
“Really, Sergeant?” Adela asked, turning to show off the large bruise covering her side. “Don’t you think this qualifies as quite the mortal injury?” She asked cheekishly.
“Major’s orders.” Ward mentioned, figuring it was best to keep her true motives and the purpose of their outing secret for now. “Five minutes to gather your gear, then meet me in the lobby.” She let the door slide shut behind her as she departed.
Truth is Ward wanted to trust everyone in her squad equally, but in a situation where she couldn’t even tell Butler the full truth, who she’d known for half a decade, who could she really? She knew Sandman back when they were rangers in the army, which hopefully outlasted the long gap in between then and when he joined Mjolnir. Adela and her on the other hand have been close friends for a long time, outside of herself and Butler, Adela was the next oldest member of the squad. Point being that they had strong loyalties outside of the Foundation, making them the least likely to rat; and, more importantly, the least likely to think she’s insane.
It wasn’t long before the other two joined her at the front desk, fully reequipped and armed once again. Placing her helmet on her head, Ward simply nodded for them to follow as she led them outside.
“So, you gonna tell us what this sudden assignment, that we’re getting at the end of the day, is?” Sandman asked, as Ward marched them along.
“I’ll tell you guys when we’re underway, it’s time sensitive.” She briskly answered, not giving away the slightest detail. Sandman looked over his shoulder at Adela as she merely shrugged. With a parking lot situated right beside the Embassy, they had a small selection of vehicles to pick from; with MRAPS on the armored end and simple vans and trucks for more menial or covert work. Yet Ward chose to go right in the middle, marching up to a matte-black Humvee adorned with Foundation insignia. “C’mon. Pole, you’re driving.”
Moving around the side of the vehicle, Adela threw her machine-gun in back as she scrambled into the driver seat, before pressing the ignition; Ward clambering in beside her, meanwhile Sandman took the backseat. “So, where are we off to?”
“The hotel.” Ward replied bluntly, as she situated herself.
“What, just the three of us?” Adela questioned, “Doc forgot something and is sending us to fetch it?”
“Yea, something like that.” Ward agreed, as Adela veered the car out of its space and across into the main road, passing the front checkpoint, allowing what was, for now, the Foundation’s primary stronghold to fade into the distance behind them.
It felt strange to be out this far out and not be with a full team or being monitored in any way; scary and liberating at the same time, kinda like the first day of college. Apathy was perhaps the truly strongest force in Hell, on earth they could never drive through a city this size without making headlines. In Hell, however, they drove around in armored vehicles plainly marked, with Foundation insignia, and it wasn’t worth so much as a raised eyebrow. Streets flooded with the damned, and traffic so dense you could hardly see the road beneath, yet none thought they were of any intrigue. What eternity does to ambition .
“So-“ Sandman spoke up, breaking the silence that had permitted most of the drive. “We’re underway. Can we now know what we’re actually doing out here?”
Ward felt her nerves stand on end as the inevitable seemed to have finally arrived. “Can’t keep you guys in the dark forever.” She surmised, gearing herself up for whatever their reactions would be. “There is no mission.” She admitted, “I actually asked Sarge for leave, so we’re alone. I’ve been talking to the princess and, um- I’ve been trying to find Devis.” The air seemed to get sucked out of the car.
Adela turned to Ward, only her helmet covering the astonishment on her face. Realizing her lack of cohesion on the road she jammed her foot on the break as the vehicle jolted to a stop. “You are trying to do what?”
“Listen, just keep driving, we’ll-“
“No, -No-“ Adela interrupted, “Chrystus, we’re talking about this.”
“God this is way out of line.” Sandman commented, shaking his head. “So, wait, wait, hold on, how have you been talking to the Princess? You didn’t give her our radio frequencies, did you?”
“No!” Ward reacted, “I’m not fucking stupid. No, I've been talking to her on the sidelines, whenever the Doc wasn’t paying attention.” She explained looking back and forth between her two colleagues only to have the cold grey surfaces of their visors staring back.
“Weren’t the last couple of interviews about how demons spawn?” Sandman asked, recalling the previous week's events.
“Fuck!” Adela yelled, slamming her fist against the steering wheel. “The Doc fucking knows, man.”
“No he doesn’t.” Ward argued
“Yes he fucking does.” Adela countered, “It’s too much of a coincidence. What, he just happens to begin interviewing the Princess about how Demons are made right as you start talking to her about Devis? No fucking way.”
“Regardless, he already revealed our identities to them, why would he have any problem with this? The Doc won’t say shit.” Ward argued, though she could sense the lack of conviction from her friends. “What’s the matter with you two?” She asked gazing between them again. “We’ve all lost people unexpectedly, without being able to set things right or say goodbye. I’d especially expect you to understand.” She stated, pointing back to Sandman, who just hung his head silently. “For the first time in Human history, we have the opportunity to change that, and you wouldn’t take it?”
“This isn’t about that! Dammit…” Adela shouted, leaning on her arm as she stared out the window to calm herself. “Of course I would want to find Devis, I’d wanna find all the guys we’ve lost, but can we do this? Make deals with entities on our own like this?” She asked.
“We have Sarge’s permission to be out here,” Ward prefaced, “it’s one time, one person, just to set things right.” She explained.
Adela began anxiously bouncing her leg up and down, increasing in speed, “Fuck!” She yelled, striking the steering wheel as she stopped suddenly. “Ugh- Dammit…” She groaned, “What was it you said that one time? Just taking the Princess to go get manicures.” She relented, finally shifting the car into drive again as they continued back on their way.
“Thank you.” Ward breathed a sigh of relief, having held her breath through most of that conversation, as it seemed weeks of planning were about to become undone. “You up for it Sand?” She asked, turning to ask the soldier in back.
“We were never good at following protocol, but this isn’t just scratched out tags and messy bunks.” He stated, “Let’s just be careful, the Doc can’t clean this one up for us.”
The boxy, armored, car pulled up the driveway not much later. With at least Ward being determined enough to see it through, while her comrades were more indifferent, they were still there for her, that’s all that mattered. Together they marched forward, giving a slight knock before continuing through the hotel’s stained-glass doors. Within it was almost as empty as usual, Husk in the far back behind the counter, the same old sofas and painting lining the hall as per usual, Angel was off to the side, leaning against a wall as he spoke to a shorter figure, spider-esque like him but clad in black.
“Hey, Angel, you know where the princess is?” Ward asked as the team passed them by.
Angel Dust glanced up from his conversation, “Oh, see, these are them palookas I’d telling you ‘bout.” He mentioned, tapping the shorter demon on the shoulder as he pointed toward the soldiers. “Chuckle teeth?” He asked, pausing for a moment, “Man, I don’t fucking know. Prolly’ trying to convince some other saps to come stay here. Otherwise you could always try checking Vaggie’s- well, you know what.” He remarked, laughing crudely.
After Angel pointed the team out to the other Demon it turned for a moment, just barely showing the edge of what appeared like a cluster of red eyes, before quickly turning back and keeping his back to them. Adela let the Pershing conversation blend into the background, as she took interest in the other Demon. She analyzed the way he dressed, looked, stood, mobster-like. She tried to think back, searching every fold in her brain for anything tying this demon directly to the raid. She thought back to the sniper through the window, a series of red dots and a rifle, red dots… red eyes.
Subconsciously, Adela clenched a fist, tight enough that it began to tremble, as he feet began to carry her forward. Even if her mind wasn’t flooded with seething hatred, she wasn’t certain she could’ve stopped herself. Sharply turning from the group she began to feel the muscles in her shoulder ache as she prepared for what she was about to do. Coming up behind the shorter Demon, she raised a hand to its shoulder, rearing back the other at the same time, before forcefully spinning the demon around as she came face to face with the red-eyed black spider. Perfect . Hardly giving it a second thought, she launched her fist forward, feeling it collide with the Demon’s face, just on the side of its jaw, as she sent them recoiling back in the opposite direction. She reared back for a second strike, though another pair of arms grabbed her and pulled her back.
“Pole, what the fuck?” Sandman yelled, pulling the other soldier back as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Stand the fuck down, the hell is your problem!” Ward shouted, marching in front of the other soldier as she placed herself between her and the Demon. With a ratcheted click the Demon pulled a snub-nosed revolver from within his coat, hearing the noise, Ward’s hand snapped to her holster, as she drew and pointed the pistol.
“Jesus!” Angel reacted, watching the standoff unfold. “The fuck kinda beef you’s got between ya?”
“That the fucker that shot Havoc, that tried to fucking shoot Sarge!” Adela shouted, staring down the spiraled barrel of the Demon’s gun.
Ward watched carefully as the Demon’s eight squinted eyes shifted between her and his intended target. Wincing slightly, it touched the location it had been hit with one of its many other free hands, a thick layer of fur covering up whatever welt had been left.
Seemingly appearing out of nowhere, Charlie shuffled between the two parties, using her hands to gently lower the guns. “Nope, nope, no, no, no!” She exclaimed, pointing a sharp finger back and forth between Ward and the Demon. “We’re not doing this, not here, not now, not ever. No shootouts!” She demanded. Slowly the Demon returned his revolver to his coat, as Ward likewise returned to her holster.
“Fine-“ The Demon stated, speaking up for the first time with a mellow yet nasally tone. “Guess that tells me everything I need to know.” He gave a sharp side eye toward Angel, before turning and beginning to stomp his way toward the exit. “See ya, Anthony.”
“Yea, see ya around, Niss.” Angel bid, just before the other Demon left the building.
Ward watched the Demon as it left, keeping her hand tense and ready just in case, holding for another second after it was gone before finally relaxing. “If what you said was true-“ She turned toward Adela, “then he’ll get his time.”
Charlie breathed a sigh of relief, “You guys really get into too many standoffs here.” She said to Ward.
“The fuck was all that about?” Angel reacted, barging back into the conversation. “First my brother comes here acting all mysterious and asking questions about you guys, and then you guys come in here and punch the shut outta ‘im outta nowhere!”
“That was your brother?” Ward asked, as the spider nodded impatiently, “Shit- how much have you told him?” She demanded urgently, mentally she cursed Dr. Collins, how he hadn’t seen something like this coming was beyond her.
“Just all the fucking tests and interviews the Doc did ‘n shit.” Angel responded, “why?” He squinted his eyes as if he was somehow trying to look through her.
Ward raised a finger up at the Demon, before quickly second guessing herself and retracting it, each time she felt her lips move yet struggled to force the words out, as she failed to find a way to explain the situation. Finally she sighed, “Angel listen-“ she started, “you can’t get involved, don’t tell them anything about us and we-“ she paused, “well, I don’t know what we’ll do.”
“The fuck are you on about? Speak clearly.” He demanded.
Ward instinctively went to rub her forehead but her hand hit the top of her visor, “the Foundation is at war with the De-Vito crime family.”
Throwing up his arms Angel took half-a-step back, his eyes going wide as he began to gaze around the room, almost appearing delirious. “I-um… listen, fuck my dad, but you can’t kill Molls and Niss, they’re-“
“I can’t promise that.” Ward stated bluntly, interrupting the spider as his eyes almost seemed to gloss over, “He shot at us, killed one of our guys. So long as he shoots, we’ll shoot back.”
“Should hunt the bastard down.” Adela whispered, her tone fiery and vengeful, tilting her head away from the spider.
Angel motioned his arm forward before pausing, his mouth having already opened yet he restrained his words, realizing that there was no point arguing. He covered his mouth as he proceeded to stare at the floor, for a moment he still appeared as though he wanted to say something. In the end there was nothing he could say, frowning, he began to strut away.
As the spider disappeared into another room, Charlie gave a wide look toward Ward, “What happened?” She asked.
Ward glanced between Sandman and Adela for nods of approval, which she received, before finally indulging the Princess. “His, um…” Ward rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, “-his dad’s crime family attacked Foundation personnel and kidnapped one of them. We went in to get him and- his brother executed him as we got there.”
“He needs to fucking pay.” Adela commented, keeping her tone as steady as she could though the tension in it reigned clear, alongside her still clenched fists.
Charlie closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, gradually shifting her feet back and she began to pace. As much as she got along with Ward and Dr. Collins, she was never a fan of how blatantly they dragged the hotel into a political situation. Now that situation had boiled over and odds ever increased that the hotel would become some sort of arena for it. “I’ll, um, I’ll try and talk with him about it. But, please, it would help if you helped settle his concerns a bit.”
“I’m not just going to let them shoot at us, princess.” Ward reiterated sternly, “they started this, they can end it, till we’re forced to do it for them.” A long silence followed, Charlie squinting as she tried to figure out what to do, pacing all the while. “You set to go, Princess?”
Pausing for a moment, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll figure something out to say to him.” She finally replied, almost sounding defeated, “Let’s go find Devis.” She agreed, plastering on a new optimism as she at least had something to look forward to.
With Adela and Ward in front, and Charlie and Sandman in back, the Princess gradually led them through the maze-like city. They passed over old cobble roads before moving onto asphalt, past long abandoned or destroyed buildings before arriving before modern industrial marvels with all the neon signage that could be expected in the metropolitan jungle. Gradually they made their way toward one of the district centers, which, lucky for Ward, wasn’t in any territory known to associate with either the De-Vitos or the three Vs.
FInally they reached the large clearing, a circular center covered in cobble stone, various buildings circling it, some with almost comedic, if not morbid, ‘welcome to Hell’ signs hanging from them. Again Jolting to a stop, the Humvee parked, as Ward rapidly jumped out and began making her way toward the clearing, followed closely by Charlie.
“Sand, you mind swapping out on the drive back?” Adela asked, as she and Sandman lingered behind, “Guts’ still not quite agreeing with me.”
“For a price.” Sandman stated casually.
“Yeah, yeah, I got you.” She relented.
Slowing just briefly, Charlie gazed behind her, noting the other two soldiers staying with the car. “Are you guys coming?” She asked.
“Yeah, yeah, in a minute Princess.” Adela brushed her off, opening a pouch on her webbing from which she drew a red and white paper cigarette packet. “Gotta settle my own spirits before I hunt for someone else’s.” She passed one of the paper tubes to Sandman as she began to remove the seal from her helmet.
Charlie wandered back up to Ward’s side, “I, um- don’t mean to be rude or judge or anything.” She confessed, giving brief glances back at Sandman and Adela before returning to Ward, “but your friends don’t seem to believe in this as much as you do.”
Ward chuckled, nodding down at the Princess,
“Side to side we would endure;
I wait by that same old station,
Though I knew you’d never return,
For you gave all for our nation”
she quoted, as Charlie just stared blankly at her, not quite expecting the response she received. “They don’t show it, but they’d do the same.” She pointed up at the sky, toward the pentagram which lined it. “If that were me, they’d be here.” She stated confidently, returning her hand to her side as she continued analyzing.
Charlie frowned, looking away from Ward taking a moment to think for herself before glancing back up. “Do you write poetry, Ward?” She asked, that familiar, innocent, curiosity in her voice.
Ward chuckled again, “No.” she answered, “I always liked it though; my great grandfather wrote that one-“ She reflected, “While his feet were rotting off in a trench in France.”
“Oh…”
“Relax, he had both feet till the end of his days.” Ward reassured, “always counted myself lucky that I got to meet him.”
“Your family’s big on the military?” Charlie pondered, that same old curiosity that seemed to permeate the Princess’s very existence.
“Oh, definitely-“ Ward confirmed, “there was him, then my grandfather was a marine in the Pacific, my dad, Air-Cav in Vietnam; heh I remember how happy he was when combat roles opened for women, wanted me to have the chance to ‘experience it’ as he would say.” She hung on that last note for a while, almost remorsefully, “just wish that it ended on better terms.” Her head jumped up and looked at Charlie as she suddenly remembered where she was, “And then there’s me, Ranger first, now a clandestine operative for a shadow organization.”
“Do you have a bad rel-“ Charlie attempted to ask, though was quickly cut off.
“Charlie” Ward stated firmly, “We’re -not- talking about that.” She demanded, as silence followed after. With the two quietly staring into the Hell sky, waiting for Devis to eventually come down.
“So-“ Charlie began, rolling her eyes in a wide arc to the side as she dipped her head innocently, “What got you into poetry.”
Beneath her helmet, Ward rolled her eyes, Charlie wasn’t just going to let it sit, and, despite the cold personality she’d put on, she knew she’d indulge her eventually, or risk being asked perpetually. “It’s been more of a recent thing-“ Ward explained, “we go through a lot, experience things that are hard to understand and impossible to explain. There’s a sense of understanding with these old war poets, cause they went through it too.”
“I- I understand but don’t you ever find it difficult?” Charlie asked, “Reliving things like that? Don’t you want your life to be filled with more joyful things?”
“No, actually, I find it- calming” Ward responded, Charlie’s baffled face already reflecting her stance on it. “Here’s another old poem-” she began reflectively, as she continued to stare up at Hell’s burgundy sky,
“ They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.”
She finished, drooping her head down slightly as she checked on Charlie standing beside her, her wide eyes paying close attention. “Sometimes I wonder: does it apply to us? We are soldiers, yes, but who will remember us? The true us? Only those who come after will, but their lives will be equally short as ours. Perhaps some stories will outlast that, but after those die, there won’t be anyone left to remember what we really did.” Ward sighed, instinctively raising her hand to rub her eyes only for her helmet to get in the way. “I guess what I’m trying to say is: are we really -living?” She asked, turning toward the Princess.
Charlie averted her gaze, partly through simply being confounded for herself that she would even ask such a question, partly because it seemed so commonplace. A is a monotonous cycle of life, lasting hundreds of years, in which every experience, good, bad, or ugly simply seems to come over and over again. Was it really living? Hell certainly lived up to its reputation, in its own unique way . Noticing her own thoughts, she actively shook her head, “No, of course it’s living.” She answered at last, “It isn’t about that, it’s about the moment, about what you feel; all the little joys which make the tragedies worthwhile.” Ward turned her head and looked down at Charlie, a wordless way of contesting. “Ok, yes, I know what you do for a living, but there has to be something right? Something that drives you to do it?” Finally the idea lit up her head, and it all seemed so obvious. “Like this-'' She proposed, gesturing both arms out in front of her. “You want to do this, to find your friend-“ She turned and pointed back toward Sandman and Adela, keeping her eyes locked on Ward the entire time. “The same with them. You said that if it were you, that they’d be here. You share joys and moments, you all love each other; isn’t that worth it?” Charlie asked in finality.
Ward silently turned her head, gazing forward at Hell’s maroon sky, as she considered what the Princess said. Just then she spotted a black speck plummeting through the clouds. “There!” She called, pointing towards it, “C’mon let’s go see if it’s our guy.”
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As much as Collins wanted to work and felt like he should be, for the first time in a long time he found himself staring at the clock that hung in his office. Just watching as the hands went tick, tick, tick. He didn’t even have anything in front of him to pretend to work on. He’d set Baxter loose, fulfilled his orders, and now he could only wait and think. Think and wait, as nothing really felt worth doing, with the realization setting in that he wouldn’t be back in Hell again for weeks? Months? Probably making him the only person alive that’s seen Hell and wished to return to it.
A squeak sounded from across his desk as Collins was alerted to the small, red eyed plant gazing at him. It almost seemed to have the curiosity of a dog, as if it would snuggle up to him in sympathy if it wasn’t for the pot it was contained to. “What’s wrong Wilson?” Collins asked, “didn’t you get enough cold-cuts from between my sandwiches during lunch?”
The plant tilted its head, clearly aware that it was being addressed, yet nothing to show that it really understood.
“See that’s the problem, isn’t it?” He asked, “Wilcox tells me to go on vacation, but then who would there be to take care of you? There’s no chance he’d let me take you out of this place.” Collins doted. “What do you think about all this nonsense with Phyllis?” Collins asked, “I’ve been thinking about talking to her about it, but at the same time I’m worried it’ll break down her drive and she won’t reach her true potential.”
Cocking its head to the other side, the plant displayed a certain curiosity.
“Yeah, hopefully it’s nothing but a rumor.” Collins mentioned, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe I should just play dumb, let her make the move and then tell her. Which will hopefully be after she’s out of my hair.” Analyzing the sites on the ceiling for a while, part of him almost wanted to wait for the plant to respond. “You ever miss Hell, bud?” He asked, looking back down as he suddenly changed subjects.
Cocking its head just slightly, its gaze suddenly shifted downward, staring at the ground for a moment, before gradually lowering itself. Almost appearing to lay down on the edge of the pot, it seemed deep in contemplation.
“Yea, I miss it too.” Collins admitted, “probably makes me the only human that’s ever said that.” He considered. “I’ve just invested so much into it that it feels wrong to be separated from it. It’s like leaving a child to their own vices, you know they’ll probably be ok but there’s always the nagging feeling in the back of your skull.” He scoffed at his own remark, “If only that were the case, instead I left Hell under someone else’s supervision. Someone else who doesn’t have the patience to truly see it for what it is.” Collins sighed, impatiently locking onto the clock, hanging above his door, once again; only five minutes had passed. “Just… What if something happens? If something happens in the hotel, or with Alastor, what would the Foundation do to Charlie, Vaggie, and the rest?” He asked, leaning forward on his hands, chewing on his lip as he thought.
Wilson raised itself again, giving a terse stare at Collins.
“Yes, I know, I know, Charlie is a gentile soul who’d rather die than see someone else come to harm. She’d deescalate anything and keep everyone safe. Question is, will people listen to her?” Though his mind attempted to pull himself back to his seat, Collins found himself, somewhat unwillingly, rising from it. “Dammit, maybe there's still something I could do.” Straightening out his coat, he dashed for the door in his office, “I’ll be back later Wilson.” He assured, charging through his own door, leaving the plant alone in his office for now, as he was once again in the white halls of Site-59.
What exactly he was going to say to Administrator Wilcox, wasn’t entirely clear to him yet, but there had to be something that he could say to at least get another chance. Despite the previous argument, surely Wilcox realized what he was trying to do. He had to understand that what he did he did for the Foundation and humanity. Then again, even as Collins thought of those words, he knew that wasn’t entirely true either. But his desire for a peaceful relationship and fair terms between him and Charlie, Earth and Hell, surely didn’t compromise their overall objective.
As Collins rounded the corner he came to the main test chamber they’d conduct the portals through, he shoved his card to the reader, before the door slid aside. Barging in he announced himself; “I-” though soon found that the breath left his lungs.
The opaque, almost shining, white portal was already open on one of the walls, swirling around in its ominous manner. A handful of staff were in the room, a couple low-level researchers and half a dozen security personnel, with their distinct orange visors. Two of said personnel were busy dragging a sleek black body-bag through the portal, the remaining men standing at attention as they paid respect to the fallen. All was interrupted as seemingly every head in the room snapped toward the Doctor. Collins didn’t need to see the security personnel’s faces to know exactly what they thought of him.
Briefly, he half mindedly attempted to continue what he had started, but better sense quickly took hold. He knew who was in that bag, and it was his fault that they ended up in it. After a moment of silence, Collins ducked his head and awkwardly took his leave, letting the door slide back shut behind him. As much as life in Hell seemed to loop back on itself over and over, Earth remained linier, a life, once lost, remains gone forever; and though many were lost with purpose and time, some faded due to the mistakes of others.
Final casualty count:
Total: 17
Wounded: 9
Missing in Action: 0
Killed in Action: 8
Perhaps it was best he stayed out of the Foundation’s affairs in Hell for a while.
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They had approached the figure that fell not too far from them, questioned it, but it became clear pretty quickly that it wasn’t him. Then they questioned another that fell, and another. Well over a dozen new demons had fallen in that small part of Hell in the short few hours they were there. Each one they looked in the eyes, if they had any, and asked the same couple questioned, all ultimately fruitless. Worst of all, they had no way of knowing if they were even remotely on the right track. They could have easily misguided something, shown up to the wrong place, Devis could simply have already fallen or have yet to. Whatever system decided when, where, and how Demons fell, was clearly just too much of a mystery to them. It was a fool's errand. But they had to try.
The gentle hum of the humvee beneath them was about the only thing that felt secure in any way. Their mission was a failure. The chance to meet their former squad member was gone, potentially for good. Two weeks of preparation, Ward considered, all in secrecy, all for naught. In the Foundation, failure didn’t just mean that a job was left incomplete, more often than not it meant death. Charlie had warned her that the chances for success were low, yet it all seemed so likely. Now Ward left herself to just mindlessly stare out the window as they continued to make their way back.
In a flash it seemed to pass by, Ward only narrowly catching a glimpse of it, a sign advertising beer and alcohol. Nothing more, nothing less. Simple and sketchy. Perfect. She thought, as that old familiar desire began to creep its way into the back of her mind. “Hey, pull over.”
“What? Why?” Sandman asked, reactively turning toward her, though quickly snapping his eyes back to the road.
“We need to give them a proper send off.” Ward stated reflectively, “Let’s get drinks.” She clarified. “Hope you don’t mind that we stop for a moment, Princess.”
“N-no, it’s no problem, though we have the bar at the Hotel.” She offered.
“Unfortunately we're not at the hotel right now.” Adela commented. “It’s as good a time as any.”
“Besides, we have to keep up appearances, you’re good at keeping secrets right, Princess?” Ward asked with a smirk. Her cheeks lighting up slightly in embarrassment, Charlie kept silent.
Meanwhile, Sandman gradually brought the humvee around, slotting the large car into a space on the side of the road. In quick succession the soldier dismounted, followed by Charlie, who kept a bit behind them as they made their way back up the street. Noticing their apparent coolness, despite being surrounded by the damned. They stuck out like silver angels in a sea of red, earning the despising glance of the occasional passerby.
A short while later they had arrived before the establishment, the soldiers dashing inside, while Charlie lingered behind at the entrance, simply watching them. Inside it wasn’t particularly crowded, and about as dingy, dark, and run down as most of hell’s business’ could be expected to be. Maybe a dozen other demons were inside, some glanced at the group but most kept to their business.
Ward leading, she approached the counter, a well dressed lizard in a waist-coat standing behind it, eyeing them up as he briefly flicked his tongue out, cleaning glasses in the meanwhile. “Three shots of whatever you got that’s cheap and hard.” She requested, as the demon brought up the three glasses. Moving first, Ward reached up and pulled the seal off her suit, before lifting the helmet off her head, revealing her half scarred face; followed by Adela, and lastly by Sandman. Watching as the bartender poured a caramel colored, mildly viscous, liquid into the three glasses. Before pushing one out to each of them. In sequence each of them picked up a glass and raised it, each holding theirs against the others, forming a triangle. Inhaling deeply, Ward started off, however the other two quickly joined in unisine; “To those who came before us and those that’ll come after, those who sacrifice everything in the defense of humanity, those who left our side for glory and to eternally fight on in darkness, so that others may live in the light.” At the end the three simultaneously downed the liquid, feeling the cool burn of the alcohol before each placed their glass back on the counter sequentially “Lest we forget.” Ward added, sliding a ten dollar note onto the counter.
“Byłeś dobry, kalafiorze” Adela murmured, a certain genuity in her tone.
“Good luck, Devis, wherever you are.” Sandman added.
Charlie continued to watch the three soldiers, as something entirely new seemed to appear. Hell had always been so full of apathy and anger, other emotions almost seemed a rarity, having the chance to talk with the living was refreshing; being able to learn what the hopes, dreams and joys of the living were like was all so beautiful. Now she was met with the remorse and pain of it. She’d seen Ward upset when she first told her of Devis’ passing, but this was more than that. To see them grieve as a group and share that remorse, felt much more powerful. Unlike any Demon that does something dangerous, they weren’t just doing it for the hell of it or because they could. They do it because they believe it’s worth it, suffer through pain not because they have to but because they believe it will lead to something greater. It was something she recognized in hardly anyone anymore, they believed in something beyond themselves. They believe in making a difference.
Shortly after downing their drinks, the soldiers placed their helmets back on their heads, as they turned and began back towards the exit, passing Charlie on the way. Reflecting for just a moment longer, the princess followed soon after.
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Finally ceasing the incessant beeping that emanated from the machine, Collins carefully cupped the warm mug with both hands. Steam gushed from its surface, as he had slightly overestimated just how much water he needed, causing dark, caramel, brown liquid to sit just below the edge.
His apartment was far from spectacular, and the Foundation could easily set him up with something far grander, yet it was sufficient. Scarcely decorated, with just the essentials, it was clearly lived in, yet so general it was almost impossible to tell that it was his specifically. Its functionality came through its proximity to Site-59, not that he took any real advantage of that. Collins had spent so many nights either working or sleeping in the night bunks that even just having his phone in his pocket felt unusual, let alone being back ‘home’.
Collins turned to leave the small kitchen, finally considering that perhaps Wilcox was right, maybe a vacation could do him some good. He could at least try it out with an evening to relax, nothing being on the docket for a while, though he really should file the reports on Baxter’s initial performance assessment, but, as Collins kept reminding himself, that could wait till later. No, tonight was going to be quiet and easy-going. Though, at the same time there were always the concerns that, left to his own devices, he’d begin to think too much about everything .
Collins had hardly made it two steps before, a pair of bright red eyes seemed to appear before him, staring through him. “Jesus fucking-!” Jumping back, Collins almost instinctively threw the mug and its contents across the room, only narrowly saving it from himself before almost tripping over his own feet. The tirade caused the liquid to bob up and down spontaneously, as once it went just too far, he felt the steaming hot pain of the liquid splash onto his shirt and burn the skin beneath just slightly. “Dammit.” He grumbled, inspecting the stain he’d made on his shirt, before finally assessing his assailant as well.
The horrendously thin figure before him was already more than familiar, piercing red eyes and a golden smile, Collins worst fears seemed to have already come true, as Alastor gave a coy waive to the Doctor.
“Alastor?” Collins reacted, blinking several times and even rubbing his eyes to ensure he wasn’t seeing things. “The fuck are you doing here?”
“Oh, come now.” Alastor responded, with all the same dramatic of a stage performer. Typical . “Don’t you find it a little crass to greet a friend with such profanity?”
Collins rubbed his brow with his index finger and thumb, as if this was just another headache he needed to outlast. Though, as he looked back up, he spied the open window on the other side of the room, it’s curtains drawn back to provide a view of the outside. “Shit!” Collins cursed, hurriedly shoving his coffee onto the counter as he raced across and pulled the curtain shut. “God, fucking- Idiot!” He shouted as he turned back toward Alastor, “You know who I work for, do you have any fucking idea of what they’d do if they saw us like this.”
“So certain you are being watched?” Alastor asked with a certain amusement.
“No, no, I’m not fucking certain, if I was I wouldn’t be standing here. Either way, if this gets out we’re both fucked.” Whether or not the Foundation swept away or just terminated suspicious researchers was unknown, at least in these kinds of circumstances, however it wasn’t unheard of for researchers to go home one day and never return. The advent of amnestics at least offered the possibility that even those behind the biggest of fuckups wouldn’t necessarily face the barrel of a gun. Alternatively, the secrecy of the Foundation meant reassignments weren’t always public knowledge either; then again, spending the rest of your days in a Foundation cubical wasn’t much better than death. “Why- how do you know where I live, anyway?”
“Now now, Doctor, I can’t give all my secrets away.” Alastor dismissed, though a devious cock of the eye suggested otherwise, “All I’ll say is that I know certain ‘procedures’ which help me.”
Collins groaned again, pressing the tips of his fingers against his forehead as if all this was just another bad headache he needed to get over. “If you’re just here to spout cryptic bullshit again, then do me a favor and get out. I’m not risking my job over this.”
“Ah, yes, your job.” Alastor acknowledged, his smile growing eerily wider. “Always work, work, work, with you isn’t it?”
Collins stared sternly at Alastor for a while, unsure of if the Demon was making fun of him or critiquing him, or both, or something else entirely. “Listen, I don’t want whatever it is you're selling. I don’t get why you’re so interested in me anyway.”
“Believe it or not, I can’t just teleport to Earth willy-nilly; a great deal of preparation, effort, and blood~ goes into all this. So, when I do take the risk, it’s always for something, or someone, I see great potential in.” Alastor explained as he lost some of his joviality, “Just think back, Doctor, and all becomes clear. I sent out a line and you were the only one that took it, not those jarheads you brought with you or whatever other ‘intellectuals’ you spent your days with. You- were the one that was willing to push the envelope beyond what anyone else dared, and, through my own tests, -you- were wise enough to choose diplomacy in a world of hostility. Now look where -you- have taken Humanity, look what -you- have built in Hell.” Alastor meandered up to Collin till he was but a foot away, face to face, Demon to Human. “When I sent back that poor sap, in that orange jumpsuit, I knew something promising would come out of it, and, though I didn’t know it at the time, that was you.” Almost scared to look away, Collins maintained eye contact with the Demon, even as he got so close he could almost smell the scent of bloody iron from the Demon’s mouth. Holding his breath as he felt a sharp finger jab him twice in the chest as Alastor continued, “We will go far together, Doctor Collins.” He stated finally before turning and backing away again, letting Collins breath a sigh of relief.
Alastor cocked a grinning smile over his shoulder, as he returned to his showmanship, “But hey, I may just be doing it for the Hell of it, I am the Radio Demon after all.” Suddenly assuming a new sense of causalnes, Alastor began mindlessly gazing around the apartment, looking at a framed picture of Collins and some other researchers first, before moving on to a potted plant sitting on the counter, as he gradually made his way around the room. “Then again, look where -you- are now. Alone, betrayed, cast out by your own organization after all you did. Your assistant: sent off on her own errands, those doughboys you constantly have following you: dying for something meaningless, your boss: seething at the thought of your existence-“
“Shut up!” Collins shouted from across the room, pausing the demonic deer in his tracks. “The Foundation values human life; they wouldn’t just send an MTF off to die without purpose. Administrator Wilcox doesn’t hate me, we respect each other, if he wanted to bury me, he would have done so already. He’s been looking out for me, giving me chances and opportunities.” This time Collins marched up to the Demon, getting equally close to prove the point. “The only reason I’m here is because I fucked up, and I’m willing to own that.”
Alastor just confined to stare, cocking his head just slightly to the side, as he almost appeared to be staring into Collins’ soul, unnerving the Doctor. “I sense doubt there.” He hummed with a muffled chuckle. “Otherwise we can ask our orange jumpsuited friends about the morality of your organization. You don’t truly believe that, do you? Does your Boss really do all this for your own good? Or- does he just see you as a tool, something to further his own advancement, and now he’s casting you out.” Finally, Collins broke eye contact, taking a step back from the Demon. “I know you crave it, Doctor, you want to be free from all these shackles of bureaucracy and interference, you want that power, to be free and explore as you wish. I can give you that, Collins, I can make you the most powerful man in the entirety of your SCP Foundation. All you need to do-“ igniting in a green glow, the whole room lit up, spiraling outward from the Radio Demon’s hand. A force began to choke the room, a tremendous wind rattled the apartment, meanwhile Alastor and Collins were unaffected, as if they were in the eye of a storm. Manifesting out of fire, a sheet of paper materialized in Alastor’s hand, scribbled on in blood-red ink, alongside a seal, and a dotted line at the page bottom. “-is sign your name.”
Collins would be lying if didn’t consider the offer for at least a second, just to think of the possibilities, no system to slow him down, he could truly learn everything about Hell in the most efficient way possible. Picturing that perfectness, that ease of going out and making whatever experiments he wanted. He wouldn’t have to butt head with Foundation bureaucrats just to keep the peace in Hell. “I, um-“ Yet, it was that last line that snapped him out of it: the most powerful man in the Foundation. That was impossible, a fantasy, just exactly what he wanted to hear. “No-“ Collins murmured, turning his back to Alastor, “no, no, no- you don’t get it. I can’t do something like that, it isn’t possible, dammit! Get the fuck out of my-“ Collins turned back, as the forcefull green wave had ended, only to find the Demon was gone. “Appart-ment…?” He looked around for a moment, gazing past the skewed pictures and scattered papers, yet there was no sign of the red deer.
Shakily turning back toward the counter, Collins went to grab his coffee, hoping to find some refuge in the last few hours of the day. Yet as he reached out, the mug had likewise disappeared from the counter, only to have relocated itself into a shattered mess of glass and water on the floor. “That fucking asshole.” Collins cursed, circling around to find something to clean the mess.
Notes:
So, how was it?
I’ve got ideas brewing for Chapter 17 but haven’t started writing yet. Originally I thought this Fic would be around 20 chapters, but it’s looking like it’ll be closer to 25. Either way, we’ll see when we get there.
Otherwise if you have feedback or improvements then I’d be glad to hear it, otherwise nice words are also appreciated.
Thank you for reading.
Chapter 17: Not so Wrong After All
Summary:
Despite Collins being away, the SCP Foundation and Hell both continue on as per usual, and as conflict rises, begin making increasing strides against one another.
Notes:
This was another doozy to write.
I’m sorry that it took so long, I just couldn’t nail this chapter down for some reason. I didn’t want a repeat of Chapter 4 so I rewrote it like 3 times until I was finally happy with the end result. In addition to that I just went through some really stressful periods with little time to write in general.
Lastly I just quickly wanted to thank all of you again for reading, we’ll be hitting 30k hits soon, which is just unbelievable.
I hope you all have a merry Christmas and happy holidays.
So without further ado, I hope you enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 17: Not so Wrong After All
Life fucking sucks… Blitzo considered, drearily hanging off the couch, giving an empty stare forward at nothing in particular as he simply zoned out. The physicalities of life were fine, living in Stolas’ mansion provided him with better food, better sleep, and better pampering in general, plus being close to his lover at all times. All the while IMP had shut down, the office: sold, his dream and independence: gone, and his employees: dismissed, though he kept them on a close line. Not being fans of the lordly lifestyle, Millie and Moxxie went back to their own home in the city. Meanwhile Loona was with Blitzo, who’s mood actually seemed to improve day by day. Her blossoming friendship with Octavia certainly warmed Blitzo’s heart, never having previously realized just how close the two were. Technically, life was good, yet it isn’t the life he wanted. The life he had before is what he wanted, but that had been ripped away by those silver assholes and replaced with a bullshit contract for him to act as an informant.
“Blitzy?” Stolas asked, suddenly appearing and towering over the slumped back Imp. “Are you doing alright today?” He asked, staring down with gentle eyes and with a steaming cup in his hands.
“Yeah…” Blitzo signed, hardly even nodding his head up as he just rolled his eyes over to look at the owl.
“Oh, well-“ Stolas continued, an unconvinced frown on his face which gradually lightened into concern. “I heard there was going to be another festival down in Gluttony, supposed to be quite a spectacle.”
“Yeah…” Blitzo croaked in response, rolling over in his seat, trying to his face from Stolas.
“Are you- certain you're ok?”
Blitzo looked back, just enough for one eye to peek over shoulder, “it’s just-“ he started shifting his gaze back as he tended for a moment. “Why didn’t you fight back?” He asked, finally turning around fully toward his partner. “They’re just humans, we could’ve beaten them, then everything would have gone back to normal.”
Stolas sighed, breaking eye-contact as he stared at the floor for a moment. “It wouldn’t have mattered.” He huffed. “Let me tell you the full story.” He prefaced, turning back to Blitzo, who suddenly jolted up in his seat slightly. “Nowadays I don’t go to the overworld anymore, but back when I was younger I did, when I was still just figuring out my role in the Goetia family web. I had a whole system of contacts and everything, messing with world politics and such as I tried to sow chaos. Then I started to be tracked down, one contact would disappear, then a storehouse got raided, then they tracked me to the house I worked out of up there. They were tenacious, I don’t know how many of them I killed, but, even with the Grimoire, I struggled. Whatever they used to keep my powers at bay… I barely escaped.” He explained, curling his fingers up as he tensed, squeezing his mug a bit harder. “I only recognized them from their logo, I thought that this time- they would’ve beaten me again. So I needed to negotiate, I’ve lost the Grimoire and with it most of my power, but it meant keeping you and -her- safe.” He emphasized.
Blitzo sighed as he turned away, curling his legs up into his torso as he rolled back on the couch. Words were unnecessary.
“I know that’s not the answer you wanted, but it’s the truth.” Stolas added, gently placing a hand on the imp’s shoulder. “Besides-“
“Y-your highness!” A high pitched voice of another imp called, as one stood there, with sideburns and dressed in a waistcoat; interrupting the moment.
“Yes, Stanley.” Stolas sighed, giving the floor to the imp.
“The SCP Foundation emissaries are back again-“
“I’ll talk to them.” Stolas groaned, his plans for the day interrupted, as he began to rise from his seat.
“Actually, they wished to speak with Mr. Blitz, your highness.” The imp corrected, pointing towards his seated counterpart. “Additionally they insist on meeting outside.”
Blitzo turned over again, this time away from the butler only to meet the gaze of Stolas, which, likewise, urged him on. “Fiiiiine…” Blitzo groaned, gradually crawling out of the couch, following after the servant who began to lead the way.
Blitzo knew the way we’ll enough for himself, considering he’d been living in Stolas’ manor for weeks now, however part of him couldn’t be bothered with doing it himself today, as he just mindlessly followed the other imp. The trip wasn’t particularly long, as they were soon outside and on the main gravel driveway, the already open gate and delegates waiting in the distance. They had arrived in a boxy, matte-black, car, covered in their own logo. In the center a more plainly dressed figure stood, just wearing the silver heat suit with none of the tactical equipment, guns or gizmos of their four companions, yet he did have a beige folder clasped beneath his arm.
“Ah, Mr. Blitz!” The man called out, “Negotiator Seigle.” He mentioned holding out a hand, which the imp awkwardly let hang for a few seconds before he retracted it once again.
“Just tell me what you assholes want.” Blitzo demanded, straightening his back as he crossed his arms in front of him.
“Very well then.” Seigle responded, with a certain sense of ire dripping from his tone. “We’ve been disappointed in the work you’ve been doing for us.” He prefaced, taking the folder into his hands. “The Administrator believes that more direct instructions are required.” He stated, holding out the folder. Just as Blitzo went to grab it, the man snatched it away, raising it to where the imp couldn’t reach. “Remember that we are paying you, prove that the investment is worth it. Your contract’s on the line.” He added before gradually lowering the folder down again as he let Blitzo take it this time.
Soon he was left to himself, as the man and the soldiers accompanying him piled back into the car and drove away, quickly turning to a black dot on the horizon before disappearing altogether. Blitzo followed the servant Imp back inside, the new tan folder tucked under his arm as he impatiently tapped his fingers across its surface.
“So, what did they need you for?” Stolas asked as Blitzo re-entered the room, his brow cocked as his eyes twitched with a hint of concern.
“I don’t know.” Blitzo replied, he held the folder out in front of him, the circular logo with three inward pointing arrows almost taunting him as he struggled to build up the nerve to flip the page. “They were as cryptic and fucking weird as always an-“ with conversation to distract his brain, his arms were finally free to move on their own, as they seemed to independently open the folder. His speech trailed off as he scanned over its contents, all while his eyes inflated like balloons, to a point that they seemed like they might pop. “They want me to WHAT!”
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Why do the biggest dicks always have to make the tallest towers? It had taken a couple hours to wrangle his former employees back by his side, with Millie really being the only enthusiast one, even Blitzo held more reservations than she did, but now they were all back together again. Yet as that looming tower rose before them they were left to wonder if being together was enough.
Dense crowds piled through the doors, neon lights lined seemingly every inch of the building, and the three light-up Xs that were the size of a truck were unmistakable. It was the gaudy display of a tin-pot dictator, and that’s exactly what the Vs would want, particularly their ring leader.
“So, what are we doing here again, sir?” Moxxie asked, appearing particularly possum-esque as his face winced back at the sight of the studio before him.
Blitzo groaned, “Apparently they want us to be more ‘directly involved’ in the espionage, so they want us to go in there, draw out floor plans and plant bugs.”
“I’m assuming they don’t mean, like, cockroaches…?”
“No shit they don’t Mox!” Blitzo scoffed, crossing his arms as he marched out in front of his employees. “Besides they promised us six figures for this!” He emphasized, “Besides, how difficult can it be?” He hummed under his breath, feeling himself swallow involuntarily as he gazed up at the looming tower before them.
“So, how do we wanna split this up?” Millie asked, seemingly barely containing herself as she zipped around energetically. Since they had lost the Grimoire, it had been impossible for them to accept their usual contracts, so to say they were antsy was an understatement.
“Right-“ Blitzo prefaced, as he turned back towards the group, “they want us to plant bugs and listening devices wherever possible.” Everyone gathered around as Blitz began running through his plans and he’d been told. “They want us to make maps of each floor and label where everything, particularly relating to things like security and the three Vs. We can’t linger as a group too much or else we’ll be too suspicious, so we'll split up and take different floors. There’s forty floors, so we’ll each take ten. Loona, one through ten, Millie, eleven through twenty, Mox, twenty one through thirty, and I’ll take thirty one through forty.”
“Won’t thirty-one through forty have, like, the main studio and all of the higher offices on it?” Moxxie interjected. “The first couple floors will just be the clubs and showrooms, so after we’re done we can-“
“Christ, I can fucking handle it Moxxie!” Blitzo complained, “Besides, these guys have been in power for years, who knows what kinda cracks they’ve got in their security.”
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Blitzo immediately wondered if, perhaps, he was too quick to dismiss his employees. Floor 31 wasn’t the worst, however as he progressed higher and higher, his excuses for being there quickly dried up. Once he was this high up, being seen at all was a death trap, just being an Imp wasn’t enough to be ignored anymore. What was worse is that the usual street slop quickly gave way to professional security, guys who had actual patrol rosters and could actually organize. On second thought, perhaps he should’ve just sent Moxxie to the upper floors and yelled at him when he inevitably failed; there was, however, always the risk he might have succeeded.
As he slipped from door frame to door frame, outcropping to outcropping, finding whatever little cover he could as he traversed velvet halls of gold and oak. A variable palace built atop one of the dingiest locals in the city center. Bypassing goons in designer suits and ties, many large and top heavy, with expressions that could bore their way through a brick wall. Those were intermingled with dolled up men and women, in refined yet skimpy dress, flirting with whatever higher ups wandered these halls. All the while Blitzo firmly held a large note-pad, a dozen pages folded over as he traced the paths he took and marked whatever doors he saw, including whatever function he could deduce; he’d also doodled a horse in the corner, which he was riding upon while shooting his gun at a crude approximation of Dr. Collins. For luck’s sake .
All things considered, despite the ramp up in security, things had been going well, charting a good amount of the floor, and after passing the initial spots of traffic, the corridors had started to become much emptier. Having hardly seen anyone for the last couple corridors, Blitzo grew confident enough to head straight down the middle of the next after he’d peeked around the corner. His eyes glued to his notepad as he sketched out the area along with any signage he could find.
With a loud thump, a door, one just a dozen feet away suddenly swung open before him, its handle rattling as it collided with the wall. With heavy footfalls, a pair of figures emerged, alongside a pair of voices, one electronic and staticy another deep with an almost velvety texture.
“Listen, I just thought we needed to diversify, beside it was only-“ A blue-suited demon with a flatscreen TV for a head begged, backing out of the room as he almost tripped over his own feet while entering the hall.
A gloved hand accented by a silky red sleeve reached out, grabbing the corner of the TV screen. Sharply pressing a thumb into it, the display became distorted from the pressure as the other demon winced. “You were thinking? Since when did I tell you to think!” With heart shaped glasses and gritted gold teeth, the other demon emerged fully, already towering over the other, and appearing comparatively giant to Blitzo.
He felt like running and skittering away, could he still hide if he made it to cover? Yet the awesome presence of the overlords was almost overwhelming. His own inaction and frozen stature was only solidified after Valentino suddenly turned and those piercing red eyes stared at him through those rose-tinted glasses.
“The fuck are you doing here?” He asked, finally releasing Vox’s face with a slight flick as he pulled his hand off of the screen.
Blitzo’s Mind immediately began racing for escape plans, not even bothering to respond as the overlords just stared at him. He could throw his pad at them as a distraction, before racing back down the corridor toward a vent he had seen earlier, then, after creeping through, make his way to Moxxie; together they could shoot their way down to Millie and Loona before all make their grand escape on a conveniently placed horse in the front lobby. That was all before the overlords had gotten closer to him, towering a mere couple feet away, as he did little but stare up at them.
“There you are, little red stud.” A nasally voice called out from behind him, growing louder as it came up the corridor behind him. “You’re not giving me the slip that easily, not after you promised me a good time~.” Blitzo felt something fluffy press into his back and horns, as a pair of hands, wearing silky gloves, came down and rubbed his chest. All the while he kept firm eye contact locked with the overlords, they may be stronger than him but he’d be damned before he let them see that.
“He doesn’t look like one of your usuals.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Val, he doesn’t look it, but he’s got big pockets, among other things~.” At the same moment, Blitzo felt something hard and metallic being pressed into his back.
“Keep your clients in line.” Valentino growled, briefly turning toward Vox, before turning back again, “We’ll talk about this later.” Brashly spinning Vox around, he and the other overlord began walking down the corridor away from them.
Gently, the arms wrapped around Blitzo gradually turned him away likewise. The metal object in his back encouraged him along, as the figure led him away.
Taking down the corridor and just around the bend, right as there was no one else around, the being dash to the side with him, shoving him through a door in the hall, which led to a bedroom. Within, there was everything that could be expected for a brothel: a large heart-shaped bed, mood-lighting, even a pole in the center of the room. As Blitzo turned back to confront his opponent, he was met with a tall, four armed, spider-like figure, covered in white fur, legs only covered by stockings and micro-skirt, while being nude from the waist up. With a pistol in hand leveled at his hip, its muzzle pointed toward Blitzo, as the Demon leaned with his back to the door and slowly clicked over the lock.
“Alright, you horny bitch, you’re gonna tell me exactly the fuck you’re doing here and why you’re sneaking around.”
“You?” Blitzo reacted, reaching back behind his belt, where he remembered stashing his flintlock.
“Looking for this, asshole?” He asked, holding up the weapon, dangling from his finger. “Anyway, at least you know me.”
“Yeah I’m actually a really big fan-“ Blitzo murmured, suddenly breaking eye contact as his cheeks lit up a bit. “But I don’t have time right now.” He interrupted himself, shaking his head as he pulled his thoughts back in orders. “Listen, Angel Dust, big fan ‘n all, but I kinda need to go back out there and get back to- doing stuff.”
“Uh-huh, right…” Angel hummed, rolling his eyes as he twirled the pistol around in his hand. “You and your cronies ain’t exactly been the sneakiest, been following you since I got on my break. The only reason I didn’t just let Val tear you to shreds, is because you’re acting weird. So, I’ll ask again: the fuck are you doing sneaking around?”
Blitzo’s eyes darted around the room a couple times, yet beside a window to the far side, which led to an over thirty-story drop, there was only one exit. Biting his lip, he relented, tossing the notepad halfway to the pornstar.
Using his long legs, Angel dragged it closer before picking it up, his eyes squinting sharply as he leafed through a couple pages. “The fuck are you- you mapping out a heist or some shit?”
“Sorta…”
“The fuck kinda nerve do you little bastards have to-“ Angel’s eyes went wide in a second as it finally clicked into place. “Wait, you’re working for someone.”
Blitzo tensed up, straightening out his back, as his eyes glanced from side to side.
“Who?” Angel asked, tensing his expression as he squinted his eyes. “Who’d be stupid enough to go after Val? It ain’t that radio fuck, this isn’t like him. Is it that bastard Kavanah again?” Angel frowned. “No, not her…” bringing up one of his arms to scratch his head as he deliberated. “It ain’t my folks, they have a… it’s the Humans ain’t it?” He asked in finality as everything suddenly clicked together.
“No…?” Blitzo murmured, giving a sideward glance as he squinted his eyes and pursed his lips.
Angel cocked his brow, it was stupid, he knew Valentino was amongst the most powerful Demons in this ring of Hell, but the intrigue was certainly there; if there was anyone who could challenge him, why not a wildcard? “What were they having you guys do exactly?” He asked, finally lowering his weapon.
“What makes you think I should tell you?” Blitzo retorted, turning up his nose as he crossed his arms.
“Because, whatever it is, I’ll have a much easier time doing it.” Walking up to the Imp, he held out the flintlock, allowing Blitzo to reach up and take it. “Believe me, I’m no fan of Val, most of us aren’t, but he’s got the money and the muscle. Now, there’s finally someone on the market that might be able to change that.” The flowery language the Imp would want to believe. Though Angel believed it too, internally he knew there were other reasons to have the Humans as friends; ones that, to him, mattered more than getting rid of Valentino.
Blitzo stared at the floor for a moment, “Well… you already know about the floorplans for the building, they also wanted us to plant these-” He explained, retrieving a small device from his pocket, a jumbling of wires connecting a small microphone and circuit board, all loosely tied together; in total it was no larger than a penny. “They wanted us to plant them around in places that might be useful.”
Angel delicately pinched the device between his fingers, “Where was this one going?” He asked, carefully analyzing bug.
“A meeting room, or office, or something, I don’t know somewhere.”
A sudden gleam suddenly came to Angel’s eyes, “Val’s bedroom?”
“Y-yeah, yeah!” Ge responded with a sudden burst, which quickly soured as logic came through. “Does he do business there that the Foundation would be interested in?”
“So you do work for them.” Angel mentioned quietly, “Listen I don’t want anything, an ‘in’ with them is more than enough. Let me do this while you and your friends get outta here.” Angel ordered more than requested, prancing his way back through the door, only hearing a slight yelp of resistance from Blitzo before it was shut again.
Hopefully the Imp would come to his better senses and leave everything to him. It was a suicide mission, but from what little he knew of the Foundation’s actions, that seemed to be the usual. Either way, Angel Dust felt a steely determination come over him, one that he hadn’t felt in a while. For so long his life seemed to just drone by, sex, violence, and drugs diluting everything down to a slurry of vague memories. But now, for once, he felt a certain purpose, it made his adrenaline course, it was kind of exciting. If it was for the right reasons was still up in the air, but damn if it wasn’t exciting.
He ventured back down the corridor he’d left previously. Stowing his weapon in a concealed holster buried beneath his fluff, while using his other hands to poof it out a bit, making himself look presentable. Valentino and Vox had long since departed, apart from some strays in suits, who he didn’t have to worry about, the coast was clear. He only had a bit to go before he came to a pair of double doors, made of solid dark wood, tall and grand, with a gold trim around the edges and fine engraving along it; fine in craftsmanship, in reality it depicted various pornographic scenes. Leaning forward, Angel placed a hand on one of the gold knobs and gave a slight twist.
Within, the room was a sight to behold, a violently hot pink, heart-shaped bed with purple sheets in the center; the walls were a rose color with gold trim, a velvet padded section extending a quarter of the way up them, moody blue lighting permanently illuminating the space; a rich pine desk was tucked in one corner, while tall divider-screen blocked off another, with clothes and ‘toys’ loosely scattered about; the wall on the far side of the room contained a large violet-tinted window on the far side, giving a broad overview of the city below; if there was ever a room that sat at the top of Hell, it was this one. To Angel it was Tuesday.
Silently shutting the door, he swiftly scanned the room, looking for just the right spot. Looking between the few books and folders that littered the desk cordoned off to one side of the room, Angel considered them, but they were too frequently used. Next he moved over to the windowsill and the various shelves lining the wall. Would they be close enough however? Angel really began wishing he asked about the device's details. Regardless they all carried their risks, too in the open, too easily discovered, too obstructed, too much interference with the audio. Then he saw it…
There was a large mantle behind the bed, one that extended a bit of the way up. It wasn’t too cluttered, just an alarm clock and some pornographic magazines, but off to the side was a picture-frame. He had seen it there time and time again, for years, and Angel swore now more than ever that it never seemed to have moved. Perfect .
With the small device in hand he quickly clambered up onto the bed, his feet sinking down into the soft mattress, yet, thanks to his height, he had no trouble reaching the small ledge. His fingers rubbed off dust from the frame of the piece, leaving behind an outline as he removed it from its mantle, conforming his previous observation. Angel became distracted by the picture though as he looked more closely at it. Valentino and Vox were central to it, with Velvet more in the background, he had no way to guess how old it was, but that wasn’t the real curiosity behind it anyway. It was the smiles, Val’s lacked the devilish slyness, while Vox’s didn’t have that sly superiority, Velvet’s still looked more or less the same; but they all appeared so happy, genuinely happy. For as long as Angel had known, those three were strictly business, with them rarely ‘hanging out’, so to speak, outside official gatherings. But this made him question if it hadn’t always been that way. He pulled himself out of his thoughts, turning the frame around, only briefly taking note of the ‘V+V’ written on the back in permanent marker, before slotting the bug into place, wedging it in a slight gap in the corner of the frame.
The rattle of the doorknob caused his heart to suddenly jump from his chest, the adrenaline pumping to his legs, as that flight response kicked in, almost prompting his jump off the bed and, who knows, leap through the window if he had to. He jammed the picture back onto the mantle, leaving streaks in the dust, as he carelessly placed it back. There was no other exit, unless he really wanted to consider the window, so Angel did the only thing he could think of: dropping to the beg, he laid on his side, his legs splayed out, his chest pushed out, while he positioned his arms to accentuate his ‘features’, now he just had to hope he could still muster that sultry expression even with the adrenaline.
Barging through with an apparent brashness, the door swung open wide, slamming against the opposing wall, before briskly being pulled shut again. Angel darted his eyes down, being met with the short statured Imp, causing him to take on a frown of disbelief.
Blitzo, panting, leaned against the door. “Listen, there um- w-woah…” he interrupted himself as he bore witness to the display Angel had put on, “is this-?”
“The fuck are you doing?” Angel demanded, leaping to his feet as he marched over and stared down at the Imp. “I said I’d handle it, dammit! The fuck are you even doing here anyway?”
“I-”
“You know what, fuck it, don’t even tell me. You know what kinda heat this puts on my ass?” As Angel continued ranting and rambling on, Blitzo’s eyes kept shifting to the door, back and forth between the spider and the door, with an ever increasing twitchyness. Till finally harsh thudding footsteps began to echo from beyond the door and were rapidly approaching. “Shit-” Angel reacted, quickly snapping to, “why didn’t you tell me.”
“I was trying to!”
For a moment Angel realized he had egg on his face, “Doesn’t matter-” he shook his head, holding up his hands to cast off blame, “Quick get behind that.” He stated, pointing toward the divider in the far corner of the room; just as the door rattled once more.
Blitzo just slipped behind the divider before the door loudly crashed into the opposing wall, with no attempt made to shut it, remaining open as Valentino’s tall frame lumbered inside. Angel only just turned in time to meet the gaze of his cold red eyes, which widened upon first sighting him before narrowing sharply thereafter. “You’re here- good… I need to talk with you.” As he strutted over to the spider, his coat falling open to reveal a pair of holsters, both of them empty, as Angel finally noticed the gold plated pistol dangling from the pimp’s hand. “You know who I had to chase away again?” Though frowning, the corners of his lips turned up in a weird way. “That little red client of yours, mind telling me why he was left to roam around again?”
“Heh, turns out being ‘well-endowed’ don’t mean anything for performance.” Angel chuckled awkwardly, though it hardly seemed to raise his boss’ spirits, Valentino stepped within an inch of him. “L-listen, Val, he was out when I left him I swear.”
A hand darted to his chin as Valentino pinched it sharply. “You know the rules, they can come up here if they can afford it, but I don’t want them roaming.” releasing Angel, he backed off slightly, “Then again, it is the second time you lost him-” Valentino snapped his hand back up again, more aggressively grabbing Angel’s face, almost covering his mouth as he squeezed his cheeks uncomfortably. “You’re not trying to undermine me are you?” He asked, gritting his teeth as Angel felt the cold muzzle of the pistol press into his side.
Just barely, between the creases of the divider, Angel saw Blitzo watching, creeping around the edge, looking for a way past. “C’mon Val-” Angel muttered, having trouble even speaking due to the manner in which Valentino was holding him, “I’d never, you’ve been so good to me, I’m your top whore.” With his grip relaxing slightly, Angel attempted to push furth, “‘Sides, just some Imp right? He’s not worth stressing yourself over.” He added, moving closer to Valentino, caressing his sides, extending an arm past Valentino, waiving for Blitzo to go while he was distracted.
“Just some Imp.” Valentino repeated, finally letting go of Angel’s face for good, “Find him and double the price for the inconvenience, otherwise it’s coming out of your tips.” Valentino threw his gun on the table, as he seemed to relax at last. “Why were you in here anyway?” Tossing his hat on his bed, he straightened out his antenna before letting his coat slide off his shoulders, all the while he began to turn toward the divider.
Noticing Blitzo was halfway to the door, Angel quickly jumped up pulling Valentino in by the waist with one pair of arms, while caressing his neck and face with the other pair, pulling him back and preventing him from turning all the way. “I just wanted to make sure my favorite Pimp was doing alright, earlier you seemed so tense.” He again subtly moved his hand to urge Blitzo along, which he did, however the near pitch silence of the room prevented him from running.
Placing a hand on Angel’s shoulder, Valentino began to push him off and continued turning, “Get out, there’s still money to be made.”
Blitzo still needed a bit more time, almost to the door, but still too far to risk running. Angel desperately searched for something, at first considering kissing the moth, but as he recalled the framed photo, he thought of something else. “You should just get rid of that waste Vox, that fucker is just drain on your-”
Angel was quickly interrupted by a sharp pain that permeated out from his cheek, gradually spreading across his face, as Valentino tore the back of his hand across it. Dramatically rolling back, Angel fell to his knees as if before a god. “Don’t-!” Valentino shouted, cutting himself off, as he growled, showing a restraint he wasn’t known for; though if it was for Angel’s sake or his own was a mystery. “Listen when I tell you to do something.” He urged. “Now, clean yourself up and get back out there.”
Angel now had a perfect view of Blitzo, who continued to creep toward the door, but appeared hesitant. “Go.” he murmured, motioning his eyes to urge him along, as he watched the Imp scramble out through the open door and back into the hallway.
“What was that?” Valentino demanded.
Angel’s eyes widened, “No.” He repeated, “N-no, I’m sorry, Val, I’ll make it up to you.” He crawled back up onto two feet, holding his cheek, as he saw the last vestiges of the red Imp disappear, safe at last. As he proceeded to follow suit.
At the last minute, he felt a hand tug back on his wrist. Turning he looked up at Valentino, who brought another hand forward and caressed the spider’s cheek; the slap wasn’t hard enough to leave a bruise, but beneath the fur there certainly was a mark of some sort. “No, I’ll make it up to you~, be back after your shift.”
“Yes, Val.” Angel sighed, his wrist finally released, as he proceeded through the door and quietly shut it behind him.
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He understood that humans weren’t exactly anywhere near the size that he was, however they still could have some slightly more accommodating furniture. Angel Dust sat back, his knees high up, as he was stuck to the simple chairs to wait in. Perhaps it wouldn’t even have been so bad if these guys actually had a TV or even some magazines to pretend to read, or even if they decorated the room with a color other than white. Well, there were other colors, like the light grey floor alongside the occasional beige, but the only thing that broke up the paleness was the sharp black logo painted on the walls. The radiating heat from his cheek certainly didn’t help. Regardless, Angel was stuck, clawing away at his phone, till they finally agreed to let him through.
Part of him felt insane, another part felt like it needed to be done, and another one wanted to abandon the venture entirely. Yet he stayed seated, helpless in a sea of steel chairs as he waited for the mere permission to be heard out, which was more than he could say for many of his previous bosses. You would think that they’d hurry up a bit to keep him from overthinking this and potentially giving up, then again maybe that’s exactly what they want; to toy with him just long enough to unnerve him.
Finally he heard the clacks of footsteps approaching him, a variable orchestra in the otherwise quiet room, as a young man appeared before him, “Mr. Dust-'' he announced, from his neck hung a lanyard to which his ID was attached, it identified him as ‘Hunter’. “If you’d please follow me, Administrator Wilcox has agreed to speak with you.”
“Administrator?” He asked, raising his brow. “I wanted to talk to the doc. Doc Collins, I asked to see him .”
“Doctor Collins is currently on administrative leave. After reviewing your statement, Administrator Wilcox has decided to meet with you.” The secretary explained, matter of factly and in a voice so monotone it almost hurt.
“Alright-“ Angel prefaced, rising out of the chair as he now towered over the human, “take me to this ‘administrator’.”
“Your phone, please.” Hunter requested holding out his hand. Angel just gave him a brief glare. “We do not allow personal devices such as phones beyond this point in the facility, it will be returned when you leave.” Relenting, Angel placed his pink cased phone into the hands of the secretary. “Follow me.”
Following after the secretary, he felt as though he was seeing things that no other Demon would and perhaps he shouldn’t either. Even if those things were just more of the same pale corridors, there was still a certain mystique to them, given the exclusivity of just about anything beyond the building’s lobby. Again, part of him was yelling, nay screaming at him to run, which wasn’t helped as he noticed the gazed from other people in lab coats and those familiar silver-suited soldiers scattered around. Keeping a steady rhythm he managed to convince himself to keep following the secretary, even if he was obviously fidgety and checking shoulders every five seconds.
Maneuvering along the path for a while, the secretary led him to a door, which he opened, only to be led inside another pale room. This one, however, had a large steel table in the center alongside two chairs, and a mirror spanning the back wall; the room’s purpose wasn’t all that discrete.
“Please take a seat, the Administrator will be in shortly.” Hunter suggested, showing himself out as the door shut again with a loud clunk.
He had certainly upgraded, if you could call it that. Strutting over to the mirror, where he knew other people were staring in at him though he could only see his own heterochromatic eyes staring back. Once again that need to abandon ship began to sink in, yet he closed his eyes and simply breathed for a moment. Once he reopened them, he again saw himself staring back at him. Relenting, he moved over to one of the chairs, sliding it back, he took a seat, his knees again resting uncomfortably high.
Once again he was forced to resign himself to his fate. Crossing both sets of arms before him, he attempted to lean back as much as he could, all while mindlessly staring off into space. He could have been alone for just a couple minutes, but they easily felt like hours. His head perked up once more as he heard the door on the far side of the room open.
Spinning around his chair, Angel witnessed a bald, dark skinned, man, dressed in the same white lab coats as everyone else. “Good day Mr. Dust, I’m Administrator Wilcox.” He introduced himself, striding over to the opposing seat, pausing just a moment, seemingly scanning the demon before him as he sat down. “I know you wished to speak with Dr. Collins, however he is currently on leave, though I understand you had a very interesting offer for him.”
Angel winced slightly, as he wondered if he should just walk out. Could he though? He wanted to wait for Collins, he knew he could trust Collins, or at least he could trust Collins more. He was an idealist, much like Charlie, he’d do everything in his power to accommodate. But he had no idea how long he’d be gone for, he certainly hadn’t shown up at the hotel for a good week already. Every day he waited was a potential risk. “Alright-“ Angel sighed reluctantly, “listen, I found your little guys nosing around the studio. The IMP guys, they’re working for you, yes?” He asked though was met with silence and a stone cold expression. “Right, I’ll cut to the chase. So, basically, I want in.”
“In…” Wilcox repeated, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. “You speak of this as if it were a heist of some sort.” He straightened himself out, placing a hand on his knee as he leaned forward on it. “Yet you don’t want money. Nobody ever does, money is always just a means to some greater end, either directly or indirectly.” Wilcox sucked on his teeth a moment as his eyes narrowed to a squint, “I’m not looking for mercenaries Mr. Dust, I’m going to need a bit more than that.” He stated before leaning back in his chair once more.
Angel stared through the man for a while, biting his lip as he tried to process what he just heard. “Look, why make this into more than it needs to be, just gimme the offer you gave the Imps and I’ll spy on Val for you.”
Wilcox stroked his chin, breaking eye contact as soon as the spider ceased talking. “I understand that you’re valued, but to what degree do you have access?” He asked with a relaxed curiosity, as if it was just office small talk.
“Bitch, I’m his favorite whore!” Angel reacted, “I can go anywhere in that place. Hell, half the time I’m by his side so he can fuck me, but the other half I have free reign.” He slouched back in the chair and crossed his arms. “Everyone in that building’s afraid of Val, nobody would stop me. Besides, I planted the final bugs in his office.” He claimed flamboyantly, placing the cherry on the cake of his argument.
“Those were duds.” Wilcox confessed, an expression of indifference on his face.
“What!” Angel reacted, suddenly jolting upright in a frazzled reaction.
“At least some of them were.” Wilcox clarified, “We have far more sophisticated methods of surveillance available. The maps will be useful, otherwise the primary objective was to sew confusion, plus it was an opportunity to rid myself of the Imps. Their performance hasn’t impressed me, the fact they had to resort to- an outsider to finish the mission only proves that. Regardless, they’ll get their paycheck, afterwards we’ll cut ties through other means.”
“Hold on!” Angel interrupted, holding up his hands, “Were you trying to get the Imps killed?” He asked, as the Administrator stared coldly forward at him.
Wilcox leaned forward on the table, forming a philosopher’s cradle with his fingers as he put his weight on his elbows, meanwhile Angel sat with a wide-eyed glare opposite him. “Tell me, Mr. Dust, what would you do if I tried to kill you?”
“The hell kinda interview is this?” Angel asked, every little voice in his conscience telling him to run.
“When did I say this was an interview?” Wilcox cocked his head slightly, “You’re not leaving, in case you were wondering.” He mentioned it as if it was so plainly written on Angel’s face. “You were not rated to be particularly likely to cooperate.” He stated, not afraid to make eye contact as he almost appeared to be in a staring competition with the Demon. “Therefore this is either out of desperation or there’s something you believe the Foundation could help you with. Or both. Either way you’re not going to leave until you have what you want.” He rose from his seat, walking around the desk, till he came around the side of Angel Dust. “Now please, answer the question.”
Angel looked at the table, ceiling tiles, the plain white walls, anything really to avoid the Human’s eyes. They were so simple, not even close to competing among Hell’s repertoire of creatures. Yet it wasn’t the eyes themselves , it was whatever was behind them. “I, um, I’d fight back.” He answered hesitantly.
Leaning on the edge of the table directly beside the spider, Administrator Wilcox reached his hand into his lab coat before withdrawing it again. “How about now?” He asked, completely monotone, now holding a blocky pistol in his hand, casually leveled at Angel’s chest.
Though his heart had started racing, Angel did his best to keep his cool, outwardly trying to appear indifferent. He finally looked the Administrator back in the eyes, but those were still dead, as he quickly looked away again. He scanned the room again, noticing the domed camera hanging from the ceiling, yet otherwise there was nothing but the steel chairs and table, and those awful white walls. Mentally he cursed himself, damn him and his naïveté. Yet as he settled back on the man, he noticed something, just enough for him to cross his arms and relax back slightly. “I wouldn’t.” He answered. “That thing doesn’t have a magazine in it.”
Wilcox cocked his brow, “It doesn’t need one to chamber a single round.”
“No, but then you’ve got your cameras and security outside-“ Angel continued a slight smile coming over his face, “besides I’ve seen this before, mob tactics, you’re just trying to see if I’d break.”
“And you’d bet your life on that?”
Angel chuckled, “Gamble that every day down here and I haven’t died yet.”
Wilcox remained silent, simply keeping the weapon pointed for a while, before he finally pulled his finger back. The pistol clicked, “Very good.” Wilcox hummed as he absentmindedly tossed the weapon on the table and returned to his seat. “Though his presumptions were misguided, it does seem that Collins snagged something of value after all. For your information, the death of the Imps was one possibility, though we were banking more on them giving up, providing an excuse to dismiss them. Regardless, I know you’re not here for money, so I suggest you start telling the whole truth.”
“Fine-“ Angel sighed, at least marginally reassured that this ‘administrator’ was taking him seriously. “I know you’re at war with the De Vitos; Arachniss and Molly, you prolly have them down as Salvatore and Marilena, I want them to be protected.”
“I'm assuming you’re aware that your brother attacked and executed Foundation personnel?” Wilcox asked, taking on a similar posture to the spider as he likewise leaned back.
Angel’s brow jumped for a moment, though he quickly restrained it back to indifference. “And?”
“What I’m saying, Mr. Dust, is that humans are unpredictable. The MTFs are well disciplined, but there’s always the chance that someone will take it into their own hands, not to mention the chaos of battle. Now, I can designate them as priority targeted, with a standing capture only order, which should dissuade most intentional incidents. However, I can’t guarantee anything.”
“Fuckin’ eh… I thought you guys were supposed to be puppet masters, with your hands in everything.”
“The Foundation works in odds, not certainties, otherwise our job would be far too easy.”
Angel sat in thought for a moment, shifting his gaze over to the mirror, witnessing his reflection. As much as he tried to restrain himself and look collected, there was still that tinge of fear that lingered in his every action. “I’ll take it.” He relented, “So long as it keeps every Tom, Dick, and Harry from going after them.”
“Very well then, Mr. Dust-“ Wilcox let his seat skitter backward as he rose suddenly, reaching an open palm across the table. “Welcome to the SCP Foundation.”
Notes:
So, how was it?
I’ve got ideas brewing for Chapter 18, which I’ve got a pretty solid idea for, but we’ll have to see how long that one takes, I should have some more time on my hands so hopefully not as long.
Otherwise if you have feedback or improvements then I’d be glad to hear it, otherwise nice words are also appreciated.
Thank you for reading.
Chapter 18: Guess Who’s Back
Summary:
Hell and the Foundation have changed, as the whole situation evolved to a whole new level, when an old researcher is suddenly thrust back into the middle of it all.
Notes:
Hello again, I’m sorry that this chapter took so long, there’s been all kinds of stuff going on that I’ll get more into in the end notes. For now, please just enjoy the chapter.
There were two things I wanted to address too.
Firstly, some people pointed out that I misrepresented the SCP Department of Tactical Theology, which is totally fair. They appeared quite early on in this story and I really didn’t know very much about them. As I stated at the very beginning of this story, I really wasn’t that familiar with the actual SCP Foundation lore itself when I first started writing this. I only found out about DTT after I started writing, so I needed to come up with an explanation as to why they weren’t the ones in charge of Hell. I really should have done more research when writing them, however I figured it didn’t matter too much since they would hardly be in the story. But yes, how I depicted them isn’t accurate to how they are depicted in the actual SCP universe.
Secondly, some people pointed out that Dr. Collins does some things that are out of character for a Foundation researcher and that he in fact is a bad researcher… which, yeah, that’s the point. If you feel frustrated with Collins from a Foundation perspective then I have accomplished exactly what I set out to, now you know how Dr. Wilcox feels. Collins is a bad Foundation researcher, he’s reckless, hesitant, emotional, and bad at following rules. A massive part of this story is playing Collins and Wilcox off of each other, one a conventional researcher and the other unconventional, who’s only tolerated so long as he gets results.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 18: Guess Who’s Back
The streets of Hell had never been safe, they certainly weren’t when the Foundation arrived, and, from the many interviews they had conducted, it certainly seemed like they never had been before either. War of course didn’t make that any better, but Phyllis could rest easy, inside her cool, fire retardant, hazard suit, and with some of the best soldiers humanity could muster at her back; and being in a vehicle with over a hundred millimeters of hardened steel, ceramic, and Kevlar armor also helped. Even so, from within the APC the cracks and pops of gunshots could still be heard from outside, but so long as none of them thunked against the vehicles armor, there was little to worry about.
“Buckle up back there, we’re approaching FOB-M1 soon.” The driver shouted back into the cabin, though he was speaking to little more than the Vehicle crew, Phyllis and her escort, and a dozen crates occupied the other half of the vehicle. Just being chauffeured around was already cramped enough, the thought of going into combat in one of these, crammed in with a dozen other people, was sickening in its own sense.
The fact that she was even able to hitch a ride in an armored vehicle, such as this, was a small miracle in its own right. With new offensives underway, all armored and infantry fighting vehicles were being prioritized for frontline operations, meaning that dedicating an APC for a single lowly assistant to deliver a message, wasn’t easy to get approved, let alone an accompanying escort. Even MRAPS were in limited supply, leaving her with a humvee or the even less attractive staff car; considering where she was going it’d be preferable to drive a smart car through a monster truck rally.
Jerking to a stop, the vehicle arrived at its destination. The driver began to clamber around the boxes and equipment, struggling due to the bulk of the fire suit, meanwhile a humm resonated through the cabin, as the hydraulic rear hatch began to lower. Slowly the street was revealed, one covered in rubble and debris, with small craters, destroyed structures, shell casings, and other aftermaths of war littered around. Just before the door stood another silver suited soldier, with dirt and grime covering the sheen of the suit.
“Please tell me you have our loitering system.”
The driver paused for a moment, “Sand? God This is where they stationed you?”
“Seems I’m not the only one-“ Sandman responded, crossing his arms. “Sarge’s been-“
“Same as he’s ever been?” The driver asked, the two reconciling after time apart.
“No, actually he’s made Major, so all of Mjolnir and then some are under his command now.”
Phyllis jump from her seat, her escort close behind, as she clambered for the exit hatch, desperate to get out of the cramped vehicle. “Excuse me, soldier.” Sandman stopped, turning toward the assistant as he attention was called. “I need to speak with the Major, if you wouldn’t mind pointing me toward him.”
Sandman beckoned her forward, moving toward the side of the vehicle as Phyllis followed. “He’s gonna be in the FOB, down there. Just past the supply dump, building on the right, just look for the one with camp nets covering the giant hole in the side and sandbags piled all around.” He explained, pointing past a large stack of crates and boxes hidden under another camouflage tarp. As soon as he finished pointing the way, Sandman left the assistant’s side, “So, do you have my loiterers now or not?” She heard him call from behind her.
She continued along the side of the APC, a large and angular vehicle, covered in cage armor spaced off of its hull. It sat there as its engine hummed to itself and the remote weapons system on top rotated around, scanning the buildings. Continuing forth only revealed more of those signs of war she was told to expect before being sent this way. The buildings around weren’t like those of the city center, only between three and five stories tall and of a more suburban style. Many large carters carved into their walls, some being mostly leveled all together, and practically all of them being fully Swiss-cheesed, completely pockmarked with holes.
The actual supply depot itself appeared the same up close, just piles of green and tan crates and boxes. Though on the side of the building there was a sign, shoddily painted, which playfully read: ‘ Pandora’s Box, beware ye who seek munition only receive stale crackers.’ Silver suited soldiers were practically boundless, perhaps two full platoons were crowded into the street. Most of them were at work, filling sandbags with debris, collecting ammunition, moving boxes, a couple were gathered around the water drums with a hordeful of canteens between them. Other soldiers were on patrol, on the opposite side of the street she saw a pair ushering away some Imps with threats that had gotten too close to the forward operating base. Yet more soldiers simply loitered around, squads of men and women seated around rubble and shell casings, some eating MREs, others simply just taking their helmets off to breathe for a minute. One soldier in particular caught her interest, he sat on a crate, his rifle and helmet resting beside him, his eyes heavy yet focused, as he simply stared off into space, ignoring the commotion around him.
Passing the piles of crates, Phyllis passed the next busiest area of the FOB, which was unfortunately the aid station. The hollow groans of the dying became evident, as she approached, with a dozen soldiers in stripped equipment and with heads, arms, legs, and torsos covered in bandages tainted by red splotches. Just as men were racing around, green crosses on their arms, tending to those wounded. Towards the edge, there were six more, laying flat on the ground, grey rubber tarps draped over them, pulled up to cover the head, exposing their boots, as they were all lined up in an orderly row. Each one had a paper slate pinned to the top of the tarp.
Xi-1, Dagger-1-4, Pfc. Oliver F Rockwell, A+, TOD: 1030, COD: blood loss due to gunshot wound to the chest.
Xi-1, Mjolnir-2-7, Pv2. Jessica Navarro, AB+, TOD: 1010, COD: internal bleeding from the femoral artery due to a broken femur.
Xi-1, Dagger-1-2, Cpl. Lucas Moreno, O-, TOD: 0950, COD: broken neck due to laceration to the spine caused by shrapnel.
Xi-1, Dagger-1-5, Pfc. Abraham S Brighton, A+, TOD: 0950, COD: gunshot wound to the head.
Phyllis closed her eyes, as she continued past, that nauseous feeling her stomach becoming too much. The cost. She didn’t want to know and she didn’t want to see, it wasn’t what she was there for.
When she reopened them, she was past the aid station, and beginning to approach the camouflage net covering a hole in the side of the building; just as Sandman had described earlier. Likewise the fortifications seemed to grow more intense, with sandbag walls to protect the station alongside rubble to act as improvised cover. A heavy machine gun was positioned on a tripod situated just in the edge of the barricade beside the hole in the building, a second one was situated on the opposite side of the street, on the second floor of a building who’s had most of its wall face missing, the rubble forming a ramp up to the position. There was some light artillery, including a trio of light mortars situated within a sandbag box in the road. All of this was overlooking a ragged shell of a street, with barely enough asphalt still available to drive on, the rest obliterated or covered. Far down the street was a corner building, situated in the wedge where the street split into a Y shape, larger and with a cinema sign atop that had all the letters knocked off, it was far more battered than any other, as all guns seemed to be pointed toward it.
As she approached she passed a series of soldiers seated on the curb just beside the building, appearing haggard and covered grime and debris. Yet their spirits were remarkable, laughing amongst themselves despite it all, even with the distant sound of gunshots. Just beside the net covering the entrance to the building, sat a woman, decked out in full gear, yet with her helmet removed, a burned area covering the right side of her face alongside an eyepatch covering the eye. She smiled up at Phyllis as she pulled the net aside and allowed her to enter.
Within it was a mess of radios, signaling equipment, maps, and all kinds of other electronics, as perhaps two dozen staff men were crammed inside what appeared to have once been a small storefront. Spread across a table were a series of maps, with the Major, and the oak leaves on his shoulders, at the forefront, his hands waving around as he discussed the situation with several other officers around him. Since they were in the midst of planning, Phyllis stayed to the side, and waited for them to finish.
“After we bring up Broadsword, we can send Dagger-3 and 4 forward, with that central assault, attention will be drawn away from Spartan and Halberd companies to maneuver in tandem and surround their stronghold in the cinema.” Butler continued, pointing out the corner building that appeared at the far end of the street.
“If I may Major-“ another man interrupted one with a pair of bars on his shoulder. “Both companies have reported enemy activity in these two buildings-“ he pointed out two buildings opposite the road of the cinema. “Though numbers are unconfirmed, if Spartan and Halberd were to advance that way and get bogged down they’d be almost completely surrounded. Even with support from Broadsword, casualties would be high.”
“You make a fair point Captain.” Butler hummed. “Lieutenant-“ he turned toward another officer gathered around the table. “Pull up the quartermaster’s reports for me.” The officer wordlessly handed a clipboard to the Major, who eagerly began flipping through it. “AHA!” He reacted, slamming the piece down on the table. “If we distribute CS gas shells out to the mortar teams, we can pummel them with that, combined with smoke shells, and Broadsword battering them, we should be able to suppress and cover both Spartan and Halberd in their advance.”
“We also need to consider a potential counter attack from these other two positions.” The captain interrupted again. “If I might suggest, Dagger has already lost a number of men, might we have Mjolnir cover the advance and prepare for a counter-counterattack. This would allow Dagger to retreat and remain in reserve, while either Spartan or Halberd secure the cinema, leaving the other to keep the pressure on any routed enemy forces.”
“See it done.” Butler signed off. “Color Sergeant.” He called out, “Tell the quartermaster to begin distributing gas shells to Support Mortar Sections C and D. Also ask them if they have my crystals yet, if not, pull some men and assign them runner duty, I need a status report on Outlaw ASAP.” The sergeant ran from the room toward his duty, fiddling with his radio on the way out. Butler turned toward the crowd of officers, “Gentlemen get to your platoons, I want Dagger-3 and 4 out there drawing fire, everyone else will advance when the mortars open up.” There was a sudden wave of commotion, as the officers piled out of the building and began racing back to their units.
“Major?” Phyllis asked, finally speaking up as the meeting appeared to be over.
Butler held up his finger, “one second.” He followed after the last couple officers and exited the building, yet stayed just before the entrance. “Six! Please tell me you have either my drone or my crystals.”
The same soldier from the APC, Sandman, reappeared, now approaching the Major, carrying a large tubular device appearing similar in size and appearance to a missile launcher. “If you mean the HERO system, then yes I’ve got your drone.”
“Good, set it up, we’ll need it for Broadsword-1.”
“Will Alice be joining us again, Sarge?” Sandman asked, as he placed the device on the ground and began to prepare it.
“Indeed she will.” Butler chuckled, lifting the net as he meandered back into the building. “Anyway, what can I do for you ma’am?’ he asked as he passed Phyllis, leaning back against the table as he faced her.
“Well, firstly I was sent to reprimand you for and find out why you have been almost completely radio silent for the last few hours, but it seems that has already been answered.”
Butler shrugged, “Blame Foundation logistics.”
“Right-“ Phyllis hummed, “otherwise you have orders from the administrator to send men from Mjolnir-3 back for escort duty, PA 3FC7352 is back.”
“Well, it’s about time. But they really wanna do all this for one man?” Butler asked, acknowledging the apparent lack of logic in the decision.
“Just see it as a break, pick some people that need it; you know he likes you guys.” Butler grumbled at the remark, causing Phyllis to smirk. “Lastly, I was told you have some interesting ‘subjects’. I was sent to review them.”
Butler leaned back in silence, moving to scratch his neck only for the material of the suit to get in the way. His head darted toward the entrance again, as Sandman poked his head inside, now holding the missile launcher on his shoulder. “Loiterers ready, Major.”
“Good, let’s get started.” He said, marching back over towards the entrance, meanwhile his hand snapped to his radio. “Dagger-3 and 4, move forward, we’re starting.” A short while after Butler exited the building, a wave of two dozen soldiers rushed past, on a forward charge down the trees and toward the cinema on the far side. “Broadsword-1, you may come out of hiding now.”
“Roger.” A voice responded from over the radio. In an alleyway across the street from the FOB, there was a soldier, dressed in a grey jumpsuit, with relatively simple equipment overtop of it, a vest, helmet, and the obligatory gas mask. The soldier moved and pulled on a tarp covering something beside them, pulling it down to reveal a large matte-black vehicle. Clambering aboard, the soldier dove into a hatch atop the vehicle as its engine whirred to life, sounding like a jet, before rumbling forward making the earth tremble. It backed out until it reached the center of the street where it pirouetted in place on a series of caterpillar tracks, bringing a large cannon to bear, mounted on a turret, with the SCP logo painted on a sloped frontal hull. The cannon’s barrel had the name ‘Alice’ crudely painted on it alongside six consecutive white stripes. “Broadsword-1 in position, Major, waiting on your mark.”
Butler looked back down at Sandman, simply nodding to him as the signal. He placed the device on the ground, propped up on a bipod, similarly to a mortar. Aimed at a forty-five degree angle into the sky, it fired a white projectile out of it at a remarkably slow speed. A set of wings folded out from the device, as it cruised up above flying not much higher above the buildings. “Drone’s set.” Sandman reported.
“Broadsword-1, you got visuals?” Butler asked, talking into his radio.
“Affirmative, however we’re not getting any readings, the coast looks clear.”
“What?” he asked, storming back outside as he marched over to Sandman who handed the Major a tablet. The screen reflected a thermal image, circling around the cinema, yet among the blotches of red, green, and pale oranges, were none of the brighter yellow and deep purple colors which would usually outline biological beings which gave off their own heat signatures were missing. Butler stared blankly at it for a moment, trying to figure out just exactly what he was looking at. Was it simply not working? Was the environment of Hell somehow interfering? Had he simply been duped? He passed the pad back to the other soldier, before he snapped back to his radio; “Broadsword, put one in there anyway, let’s make sure these fuckers aren’t hiding.”
“Roger.” The voice over the radio responded. “H-E shell, five degrees, thirteen-hundred yards, dead-ahead.” The turret of the tank hummed as its barrel raised to the described level. “Fire!” A fireball erupted from the muzzle, a concussive force burst through the air, as smoke was sent cascading away in a circular pattern, dust and debris sent flying. Butler felt the shockwave hit him, as the cannon recoiled, it was just a small taste of its true power, as he watched the shell impact with a tremendous bang, a dustball consuming part of the building. A whopping of cheers erupted from the soldiers surrounding him, all of whom watched the display. Yet he didn’t share their glee.
Turning on his heels, Butler marched back into his command post. “Smoke ‘em, then proceed as planned.” He barked into his radio, as he approached his table, staring with balled fists at his maps. “Where could they have gone?” He murmured to himself.
“Excuse me, Major?” Phyllis asked.
“Hunh?” Butler hummed brashly, a tone that indicated nothing more than for her to get out. “Oh, right.” He resumed, recalling their previous conversation before being interrupted. Reaching back for his radio he went to quickly resolve the situation. “Two, you-know-who is back, take Five and report to the Embassy, you guys are on escort duty. Oh, and take Four as well, he could use the break.”
“Roger, Sarge.” Ward replied, resealing her suit after having just watched the awesome display of power that the tank had just put on. Pulling up her rifle as she rose to her feet, she waved to Clover to follow her. “C’mon kid you’re with me.”
“Where are you heading?” Adela asked, remaining seated just beside her. Her machine gun propped up on her legs, as she finished pushing the bolt back into place and sealed the now clean mechanism back up.
“Reassigned, escort duty. Don’t have too much fun without us.” She explained briskly, marching past her seated comrades.
“Any info on who we’re escorting?” Clover asked, catching up to march beside the Sergeant.
Ward looked at him for a moment then shook her head. “Right, forgot you haven't met him yet. You’ll see he’s an- interesting- character.” She assured, as they continued on. When they came to the aid station, Ward left Clover, as she proceeded inside. Stepping over the many stretchers occupying the ground and dodging the medical staff racing through.
From within there was a low humming as a song was being sung in a soft tone. “-Alouette, Alouette/ Alouette, gentille alouette-“ There, crouched down over the bare leg of a soldier who had long since fallen unconscious, neatly stitching up a large laceration in even rows, with near perfect spacing, taking care to dab the blood off each time the needle passed through the skin, as he mended flesh back together into something that resembled its previous form. “-Alouette, je te plumerai…”
“Françoi!” Ward called, as she grew near.
“Hmm?” The Medic hummed, acknowledging her, yet remained focused on his task; tying off the stitches before beginning to wrap bandages around the wound.
“Don’t mean to interrupt your choir, but we’re being reassigned.”
Alphonse continued in silence for a while until he had truly finished and began packing up his equipment, “Non, I’m not done here yet.” He replied, picking up his bag as he immediately began to scour for the next person to stitch up. “Where would we be going, anyways?”
“The Embassy.” Ward responded plainly, she saw the face of Alphonse’s visor turn toward her for a second before turning away again. “Can’t argue with orders, besides, the Doc’s back.”
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Feeling that familiar cool chill leaving his skin, Collins felt the immediate warmth resonate around him. He’d closed his eyes in anticipation, and, though he knew he wasn’t going to see anything new, there was still that excitement. He reopened his eyes with purpose, shining stars gazing out into the world, as he looked around the cold white room, the familiar fluorescents hummed above alongside the warble of the portal behind him. Inhaling deeply, the air had that distinct stale cleanliness to it, as if it had been filtered, cleaned, and recycled too often. Nothing was too distinct from the Foundation’s usual routine. But that strange new world he’d grown so fond of wasn’t a world away anymore; Hell was just some doors and corridors away. The very thought of it made the tips of his fingers twitch and tingle. He was back.
“Excuse me, Doctor?” One of the aids in the room asked. There were two of them, both dressed in the usual Foundation garb, lab coat, dress shirts, ties; one was off towards the entrance of the room while the other held the Grimoire and was standing just beside the portal. “The Administrator has requested your presence at Site-727 as soon as you’ve suited up.”
“Of course.” He replied with a slight sigh. Having been out of the barrel this long, he was going to have to get used to all the structure again. But he supposed galavanting around and studying demons could wait for a bit. “Were the propositions I sent in passed on to him?”
“Yes sir, however the Administrator insisted that-“
“Yes yes, that I should report to Site-727 immediately-“ Collins interrupted, “I’ll get right on that, as long as my office and equipment locker are still in order, I’ll be there in no time.” He remarked, before marching out the door.
The Embassy had hardly changed, perhaps the one real difference being the number of personnel within the building. Before there were always people rushing about, primarily construction crews trying to get the building up to standard, alongside all kinds of other office and logistical personnel who simply had nowhere else to work out of. Now that had all declined significantly, presumably due to Site-727 reaching some degree of operational capacity. There was one other thing though: the people. It appeared some degree of Foundation mundanity had set in, that or however the ‘war’ was progressing had soured the previous mood of wonder that much of the staff had.
Fortunately none of his equipment had been moved, allowing Collins to suit up relatively quickly. Passing through there were a couple of demons waiting in the lobby, but all was otherwise quite as he remembered. As he passed through those old double doors once again, he watched the burgundy red sky surround him once more. The pentagram staring down, alongside that moon that the angels were supposed to come from, what a sight that must be. Hell truly hadn’t changed a bit. Those within it though were a different story. It seemed the Foundation only tightened its control over the area surrounding the Embassy, with AFVs, TOW launchers, and barricaded positions all tightly controlling who could approach and pass through, with every vehicle, demon, and object being scanned and heavily monitored. Perhaps the embassy hadn’t changed much, but Hell, or at least the Foundation’s place within it, certainly had.
Just a couple meters from the door, in the center of the street, was a parked MRAP, with two fully kitted out humvees alongside it, one in front and another behind. Just beside them there were three silver suited soldiers.
“Hey Doc!” One of the soldiers shouted, raising a hand high in the sky as a wave.
Collins chuckled to himself, perhaps the people hadn’t changed as much as he thought. “That you Ward?” He asked, trampling down the steps as he quickly walked on over. Once he got closer the details gave it all away, the looped shotgun shells on the front of her vest and monocular NODs on her helmet in particular.
“Never heard of her.” Ward responded, holding a hand out toward the Doctor, “How was your break, Doc?”
“Insufferable.” Collins mentions in an upbeat tone, as he took the Sergeant’s hand. “Probably the only man alive that wanted to come back to Hell.” He remarked. “But, no, it was fine, quiet, constantly worried about- well, everything... How have things been down here? Any more manicures with the Princess?”
“I wish, could honestly use that about now.” Though Collins let go of her hand, he stayed with her for a moment, clearly curious. “War’s been progressing, most of the Demons aren’t much harder to kill than people, but every once in a while there’s a powerful one and… well, let’s just say it’s been a helluva day.”
Collins looked the Sergeant up and down, the silver suit muddied with all kinds of dirt and debris as just looking at the alone showed that they’d been through the wringer. “I’ll see about those manicures.” He mentioned cheekily.
As Collins moved on he held his hand out to the next soldier in line, marked with the green cross and tri-color. “Pour ça?” The medic huffed, refusing the Doctor’s hand, with equal notes of frustration and bewilderment. Causing Collins to hesitate slightly, awkwardly withdrawing his hand, feeling like a child who didn’t understand what he’d done wrong.
“Don’t mind him, Doc.” Ward reassured, “Fraçoi’s been moping since we’ve been pulled off the front.” She supposed that was something she could respect the Frenchman for, always being very blunt with his emotions. In truth she felt somewhat the same, as most soldiers would, it felt like desertion, leaving their friends behind, if the worst happened they wouldn’t be there. But orders were orders, besides not getting shot at wasn’t too bad .
“Ah…” Collins reacted, slowly moving on to the last man, yet before this one he paused, as he failed to find any identifying traits on the soldier, as he compared their appearance to his repertoire of the other members of MTF Xi-1 that he knew. What he did recognize, however, was an interesting flag pinned to the man’s helmet, one of a St George’s cross, overlayed with a six pointed star and a red hand. “Sorry, I’m not sure we’ve met.”
“Doc Collins, this is Clover-“ Ward piped up, “our latest member of Mjolnir-3. Clover, this is Doc Collins.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you sir.” Clover commented, reaching out to shake the Doctor’s hand
“Clover-“ Colin’s hummed, “nonsense, what’s your real name-“ taking a quick glance to notice the single chevron in his shoulder, “Private?”
The Private shook his head, hesitating for a moment as he looked to Ward for reassurance, who just silently nodded, nudging him on. “Um, Quincey, sir.”
“Very well, Private Quincey, welcome aboard.”
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The drive wasn’t terribly long, perhaps 2 hours at most, listening to Ward fill him in on all the happenings, or at least as much as she was authorized to tell him, meanwhile Collins spent the majority of the time admiring the outside, gazing away into the cityscape. Passing through district after district, each of which had at least some patrols of MTF Xi-1 within them. The Cannibal sector was the very last till they left the city altogether, the road quickly fading beneath them and giving way to ragged earth, as civilization ended so abruptly. Soon thereafter they entered rocky outcroppings, tall spikes of stone jutting out from the ground, almost appearing like a massive impenetrable chain of barbed wire surrounding the city.
“Were well secluded, even if anyone managed to follow us, this place’d be a death trap.” Ward explained.
The rocks began to form narrow corridors, too small to offer any sort of real mobility for vehicles, yet simultaneously too rugged, and little to no cover for infantry. Truely a killing field. Then he heard it, truly the sound of mobile death, as that noise of beating wind thumped through the air. Collins gazed out the window and saw it, a slim chassis helicopter, its blades whirring as it circled above them, with all kinds of rocket and missile pods, stepped onto sponsons alongside its nose gun.
Just beside him, Ward’s radio crackled to life. “This Sigma-9-2, please confirm IFF.” A woman's voice asked, speaking quickly with a slight southern drawl in her tone yet sounding distracted and quiet, as the helicopter blades could be heard in the background.
“Copy, ground clearance: Pantheon. Personnel on board: Mjolnir-3-1, -4, and -5, and PA 3FC7352.” She responded.
“Mjolnir-3-5…” the pilot mumbled, “thought that IFF looked familiar, is Fraçoi in the car?”
The medic’s head jerked around as Ward responded, “affirmative.” Causing him to let out a slow groan as he turned back around.
The pilot chuckled audibly over the radio, “You all are clear. 9-4 take over for me, gotta set my bird down for a minute.” There was a brief moment of muffled conversation coming over the radio before it shut off entirely.
The helicopter raced along, continuing down the path just ahead of the small convoy as they continued to wind along the pathway. The jagged rocks continued to grow, towering larger and larger, till they gradually grew into a vast mountain scape. The road was suddenly interjected with a chain fence that alienly emerged from the rock. Guard towers were erected behind it, alongside barricades and emplacements, as it became they were approaching the real prize soon. Sliding open automatically, the gate parted as the convoy passed through, as the narrow road suddenly widened into a large clearing, appearing artificial and square, mined out of the mountain to provide room to work in. All kinds of construction equipment was still scattered around, however the MTFs had clearly begun to take over, with designated areas for training, ply-wood mock ups of buildings, prefabricated buildings and heli-pads; on one of which the helicopter that had been tailing them began to descend toward kicking up a waive of dust, as ground crews guided her down.
On the far side of the building, emerging out of the face of the mountain, as if it had been sculpted, was a large central building, made of solid concrete and at least five stories tall, the large foundation logo embossed on its front. There were a series of smaller offshoot buildings, a number of large silos to one side, various other systems room off to the other, maintaining power and plumbing and alike. Lastly there was a large corrugated garage door, with boom arms in front of it, built into the mountain just beside the main structure itself. They parted, allowing two APCs to exit the mountain itself and drive past the convoy.
If there were any lingering doubts as to the Foundation’s dedication to their ‘war’ they were certainly just settled.
The convoy jerked to a halt, stopping perpendicularly just before the entrance of the building; a series of columns that framed two sets of very plain sliding glass double doors. Where there were a number of soldiers already waiting alongside a darker skinned man dressed in a lab-coat.
They let hefty doors of the MRAP thud shut behind them, as Collins and the rest of Mjolnir-3 dismounted. Assembling together before they began to approach the site, Françoi in particular kept himself tucked away, almost hiding behind Sandman and Clover. The reason for which became obvious rather quick.
Fumbling with her oxygen mask, as she desperately removed it, the female pilot banked around the corner, running seemingly as fast as she could whilst messing with her equipment. Once she pulled it off she revealed a dark skinned face, with shadowy eyes and rounder cheeks. Likewise she lifted off her helmet to reveal corn-rowed black hair, as she let both it and the mask dangle from her flight harness. Those eyes scanned the newly arrived group of soldiers, as she quickly spied her target. “Françoi!” she shouted, dashing toward the medic with her arms outstretched. Barging past Sandman and Clover, as she pulled Alphonse in and hugged him tightly. “Mon Dieu! Tu n'en as aucune idée, j'ai été malade d'inquiétude, tu ne m'as pas dit où tu avais été relocalisé! Tu m'as manqué chérie!”
“Tu comprends que je ne pourrais pas te le dire.” The medic grumbled in response, unable to move as his arms were tightly squeezed together as his sides. “Pourquoi viendrais-tu dans cet endroit méchant? Tu aurais dû rester à l'extérieur.”
Quoi, je ne t'ai pas manqué?” She asked, backing off slightly, gazing up through Alphonse’s visor with a knowing smile.
“Non… je l'ai fait-” Françoi relented, somewhat sheepishly, as he appeared to relax his stance somewhat. “C'est juste…”
“Est-ce que je t'embarrasse?”
“Oui…”
“Bon.” The pilot responded, as she embraced the Medic again.
Throughout all that, she had refused to acknowledge the crowd she’d gathered, or rather barged into, as Dr. Collins and the rest of the team were left to watch. “Shumard?” Collins asked as he turned to Ward, who silently nodded in response.
“Care to introduce your squeeze, Françoi?”
Françoi twisted around at the suggestion, “Parle mieux d'elle que-“
“C'est d'accord.” The pilot interrupted with a broad smile, which quickly silenced the Frenchman. “Airman First-class Sandrin, callsign ‘Shumard’, Doctor-” She stated formally, extending a hand out.
“Franklin Collins.” He responded, taking her hand as he gave it a brisk shake.
“My- petit ami~ has told me much about you.” She mentioned, pulling Françoi in close again.
“I’m just glad there’s someone who shares my disposition about the damn callsigns.” Collins remarked. Françoi appeared to fidget and tense as all eyes were upon him and Sandrin. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two, I still have a lot on my plate for today.” Collins bid as he turned back toward the entrance to the Site, with Wilcox already waiting there
The administrator had the same serious expression he always did, though somehow it now seemed worse, the only sign of any emotion being the slight cock of his brow as Collins approached. Coming within a yard of the Administrator, Collins pulled the seal on his suit and lifted his helmet off, exposing his bare eyes to Hell once again. Collins didn’t really try to conceal the smirk on his face, he was happy to be back, he’d even shaved fully, his face clean of stubble for once. “Doctor.” Wilcox mentioned, acknowledging Collins before him.
“Administrator.” Collins responded, “I see you’ve made progress in my absence.”
“Of course, we have experiments to run, not to mention a war to fight.” Though he kept his tone cold, there was a certain element of spite within it, something about how he squinted or a slight aggression to it. Whatever it was, Collins' smile quickly disappeared. He was wrong, the people had changed, everything had changed. “Come, let’s get that suit off of you and I’ll fill you in.”
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Site-727 wasn’t finished yet, that much was clear almost as soon as they entered. Construction crews and material were still rife throughout the facility, as the lower levels were still being worked on and adjustments were still actively being made on the ones that were finished. It was far from the metropolis of science and war that a containment site was supposed to be, but that was all still to come.
“-as of now there’s approximately 3500 personnel stationed in hell, currently it’s mostly logistical, security, and MTF, however it’s hoped to up that to 5000 by the end of the month, including a fresh wave of researchers. We’ll finally have the foothold, personnel, and time to truly begin peeling away at this place.” Wilcox explained dauerly, bringing Collins through one of the light containment wings that was mostly finished.
Collins was flipping through a pad handed to him by Wilcox, his expression sinking more and more with every page he went over. “I thought I was supposed to be the ambitious one…” He murmured to himself as he began scrolling through the transfer requests to the site. “Administrator, I understand exploratory missions to the other rings and such, and the war of course, but why would we transferred so many other entities down here so quickly?” He asked, halting the both of them. “Like… 049 makes sense, since he had a very adverse reaction to 666. But I don’t understand why multiple 939 instances, or 3199 instances would be relocated so quickly, we’ve done no testing on how they would react to the environment. Not to mention I don’t think we even have the facilities to contain something like 096, or 873 yet.”
Wilcox remained static, “you surprised me, Collins, I thought you’d have been ecstatic at introducing further cross testing.”
Collins cocked his brow, swallowing sharply as he felt it plummet into his stomach. “They just seem like strange priorities to me. Wouldn’t it be best for all this to wait till the violence has settled and we underwent all necessary testing first?” He wasn’t certain if it was just him or if Wilcox was purposefully trying to be intimidating, either way, Collins felt his nerves stand on end as he stood before his boss.
“The O-5s don’t want to postpone our efforts too long before taking action. There’s great interest in SCP-666 being tossed around, the ongoing conflict has been deemed stable enough that it shouldn’t interfere with operations. Particularly with the recent territorial acquisitions.” Wilcox explained.
“Teritorial- you mean the treaties?” Collins asked, lighting up at the though, curious about what his last action before his break brought upon the Foundation. A roll from Dr. Wilcox’ eyes confirmed that, the man clearly already dreading what he’d unleashed. “I know you didn’t agree with my methods-” Collins continued, somewhat sheepishly looking down at the clipboard in front of him as he followed after the Administrator, “But how have the deals with the overlords turned out?”
Dr. Wilcox’s eyes squinted, as if he was both expecting and dreading the question. “Overall they’ve been about sixty percent effective.” Collins jumped slightly, before quickly straightening himself out again, something that made Wilcox roll his eyes. “SCP-666-3-RE, has by far been the most valuable, her cheap price plus the information she provides and the fact that virtually all of the Cannibal sector has become a relatively safe refuge for personnel, has certainly made her addition noteworthy.” As much as Collins attempted to restrain himself and remain formal, the smirk in the end won out in the battle over his expressions. “It would do well to remind you that those numbers are just barely acceptable, considering everything we’ve plunged into. I sincerely hope that your break has given you time to reflect on your recklessness.”
“Of course, Administrator, I’ll be more careful from now on.” Collins watched Wilcox roll his eyes again, not that he blamed him, he didn’t want to be reckless, everything just seemed to line up so perfectly.
“I do mean it when I say that I worry about you, one of these days you’re gonna jump into something that we won’t be able to pull you out of.”
“Speaking of which-“ Collins kicked off, becoming bouncier once again as he was reinvigorated by the good news. “Did you receive my memo?”
Wilcox gave a heft sight, raising a hand to his brow, again dreading the thought. “I did, and the personel you outlined were notified, however I fail to see the point of it.” Somehow, Wilcox managed to become even sterner in his expression, lowering his brow so much he began to resemble an Easter-island head. “The princess served her purpose, we have Lucifer, we’re in the council, and we have our foothold. I don’t see what more you could gain from her.”
“Simple, a permanently monitored test bed.” Collins responded, a half truth really but it was the half that would please the Administrator far more. “I’m sure you recall the Princesses reception scheme. Her means are far from-“ Collins paused to find the right word and not seem too diminishing, “professional. However, if it were to work, it would not only unleash countless possibilities, it would likely not be recorded particularly well. Thus a task force to monitor the situation and record it all would be beneficial. The manpower requirement is relatively insignificant as well.”
Wilcox took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm himself. “I’m beginning to tire of this, you’ve spent a considerable amount of time in the hotel, it’s becoming troubling.” Wilcox stepped closer to the other doctor, lowering his tone to compensate, but nonetheless remaining stern and serious. “I’ve granted you a lot of freedom down here and not only have the results been mixed, you’re becoming far too narrow focused. We’ve got the rest of this ring to explore, not to mention the other six, yet you keep going back to that one building. You already know that you reliability is in question, I can’t let too much slide anymore.” Wilcox backed off again, appearing satisfied with the way he delivered his message. “I will allow it, as you do make a good point, however I don’t want you going there too frequently anymore. Your job is to break this place down into formulas and logic, not to play house with the Princess.”
“Of course, sir.” Collins sighed, he was batting an awful lot on a promise he’d made so long ago.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Where do you take the princess of Hell? The question had rung through his head far too many times just due to the sheer number of variables that were at play. Not only Charlie’s interests and desires but also where he could lug the foundation to; he could hardly march into some gala with a dozen armed soldiers without drawing eyes, especially not if said establishment was owned by a certain moth and his cronies. As he looked back on it, however, he thought it met all the check marks. A hole in the wall called The Starlight Dusk , quaint yet a decently refined establishment, stylized in an almost inverse 50s diner fashion, with darker and warmer tones of purple and black, all with dim golden lighting overhead to give the whole establishment a moody feel. It was in good shape, with decent clientele, as far as Hell went, yet not fancy enough to be tied into any big players that they’d need to worry about.
At least that’s how it all appeared from outside, considering that Collins had only gone in briefly to ready everything before returning outside with Sgt. Ward. Collins tapped his fingers on his helmet, taking in the not quite so fresh shell air, all while pacing back and forth enough to dig a small trench where he walked. Meanwhile Ward quietly sipped from her canteen as she leaned against the building.
“You know what I just thought?” The Sergeant piped up, “What if the lights are so dark so that you can’t see the food they’re serving you? They could serve slop or people and you couldn’t tell.”
“Really…” Collins asked, That wasn’t what he needed to hear right now, as he increased the pace of his steps.
“God, Doc, I don’t think I’ve seen you this nervous for… well, anything.”
Ironically that’s exactly why she was here, though officially Ward was just security, Collins knew she had become decent friends with the Princess, a comfort for him in having someone who Charlie trusted around. “You know I have pushed our relationship with Charlie considerably-“ Collins relented, “this is one of the few moments that I’m gonna get to right it; before immediately pushing it again for the sake of research. So, yes I’m scared, because I’m putting the future of my work at risk.”
Ward broke eye contact for a moment, staring at the ground, “Or just making her happy after everything we’ve done to her.”
Collins stopped in his tracks, his hand lying still on his helmet. “There’s that too.” He sighed.
Ward stared at Collins’ back for a moment, he was such a strange man. She’d thought it would only be a matter of time before the friendly disposition faded and the colder aspects of Foundation work would creep in. Perhaps they still would, all this, everything with Charlie, was just so weird. “You’re a surprising man, Doc.”
Time for that kind of deliberation had run out however, as that white limousine with a snake and apple hood ornament and tinted windows approached the restaurant. It parked just in front of Collins and Ward, as one of the doors swung open, and Charlie stepped out, followed shortly with Vaggie in hand. Charlie was as bright as ever, that same old beacon in the darkness, while Vaggie’s eyes immediately narrowed toward the Foundation members, with suspicion. Something that was entirely fair. Whatever light burned within her only seemed to it night brighter as she gazed upon the Foundation members before her.
“Dr. Collins, Its, um- been a while.” Charlie started off, a certain unease in her tone, yet still a friendliness within it. “How’ve you been?” She asked.
“Well, I was on leave, so I didn’t have much opportunity to visit, unfortunately…” Collins trailed off, a certain pit in his stomach growing as he had trouble keeping focus.
“Excuse the Doc’s awkwardness, he’s been a little overwhelmed lately.” Ward piped up, breaking the awkward silence, winking with one eye toward Collins.
“Oh, Ward!” Charlie lightened up, a gentile smile coming over her face that quickly faded as she looked up and down the Sergeant’s uniform, still covered in the muck and grime of the battlefield. “Are you- alright?” She asked cautiously.
“Yeah, don’t worry about this.” Ward reassured, hovering her hands over her uniform. “Just from a skirmish earlier today, not a scratch on me- well, apart from the ones that were already there.”
“Right, so-“ Vaggie interrupted, her arms crossed as she stepped forward, between Charlie and the Foundation members. “Why’d you guys call us out here, can’t just be cause you wanted to catch up.”
“No, we actually had something of a preposition, if you wouldn’t mind following us.” Collins continued off, finding his backbone again, turning to the side and gesturing a hand toward the restaurant, “There’s some people I’d like for you to meet.”
Inside, Collins guided them through the usual array of demonic and impish clients, which were interrupted by a set of silver suited soldiers, standing at arms in front of one specific table in the far corner of the establishment, cordoned off for their specific use. At the table sat four people: two in the plain silver suit like Collins wore, another wore the silver suit with the equipment of an MTF soldier overtop it, lastly a man in a white suit with more stripped down equipment overtop, all wearing their helmets with matte-gray visors. Each of them kicked back their chairs and stood as the group approached, those in uniform moving distinctively swifter than those in plain suits.
Collins scowled slightly, raising his free hand up to rub his brow as he approached the table. “Gentleman, please, as aforementioned, I know this is against protocol, however we are in a casual setting. Please remove your helmets.” He requested.
One by one they all complied, each removing their helmets, revealing their humanity beneath. The two in plain suits were revealed to be a man and a woman, both older, one with shoulder-length hair, while the other had a respectable yet receding hairline and glasses. The man in MTF equipment was a darker man, with sharp and bony features and a buzz cut. The last man in the white hazmat suit was of a tan complexion, relatively full-faced yet rugged anc callused, with only stubble covering his head.
Collins stood at the head of the table, with Charlie beside him, “I believe introductions are in order. This is Charlotte Morningstar, princess of Hell.” He started, holding his hand out to her.
“Oh, you can just call me Charlie.” She interrupted sheepishly, giving a shy wave to the humans at the table.
Collins continued, pointing out the two plain suited individuals, “These are Dr. Cora and Richards, both of whom are trained psychiatrists, usually in charge of our own personnel sane, so you know they’re some of the best Humanity has to offer.” Both of them gave a gentle smile and a nod toward the Princess. “I believe you are already acquainted with Pastor Arno, he accompanied me during our maiden expedition.” He stated, gesturing toward the MTF man at the back. “He’s a former company Chaplain of Nu-7, since transferred to Xi-1, and volunteered for this assignment to aid in any spiritual means. “Lastly, Gunnery Sergeant Harper.” Collins pointed toward the man in the white suit. “Former United States Army drill Sergeant, he’s been in charge of many different Site security teams and will be acting at the head of a small security team in charge of protecting the other three.” He finally turned back to Charlie again, she’d looked up and down the table a couple of times before looking up at Collins with these wide eyes. “There is much still to discuss regarding their permanent residence in the hotel and Foundation assignments, however their primary mission is to help you, in whatever way you need, find a method to redeem Demons.”
Charlie just continued to glance back and forth between Collins and the other Foundation members. Her brow furrowed, yet eyes still wide, her lips moving as she nodded and shook her head yet no words came out, seemingly still trying to puzzle the situation together. Vaggie gently placed a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder and pulled her out of the situation, moving her a couple feet away, giving them space to talk.
“Hun, are you ok?” She asked, holding Charlie by her shoulders, locking in infront of her.
She struggled to respond for a moment, “I-I- yes, I mean I think, just…” Some of her energy began to bubble to the surface again, lighting up as she processed everything. “It’s just so amazing, I-I mean just imagine what we could do with them, we could begin making some actual progress, genuinely make people feel better.”
“Alright, alright, slow down hun.” Vaggie cautioned, “Please think about it, I don’t like this. These guys have used us however they wanted, giving us all these promises, and now they’re suddenly giving in? Do we really want them in the hotel constantly? Always watching us.”
“I don’t know… isn’t this what Collins promised us though?”
“There's always a catch with that guy, besides now it means having armed soldiers in the hotel. Is it worth it?”
“Well, let's talk to them more, we can figure something out.” Charlie reassured, coming back beside Collins, with a renewed energy, skipping in her steps, as her smile now hardly seemed to fade. “I really appreciated it, Collins, but we’re a bit concerned about permanently having soldiers in the hotel. And, well, the ‘tests’ that the Foundation does.” She explained, gritting her teeth.
“That won’t be an issue, Princess.” The woman, Dr. Cora spoke up, her tone confident, yet had a certain calm rhythm to it. “Myself and Dr. Richards were never a part of the research teams. I initiated as an Archivist, while Dr. Richards originally worked as a civilian consultant, neither of us would even know how to organize testing procedures, let alone have the clearance to conduct them.”
“Precisely.” Collins continued, “When it comes to security, Sergeant Harper will just have a couple men, under minimal arms, just to ensure that the doctors aren’t unescorted.”
“You don’t have to worry about Gunny, Princess.” Ward added, “Hell, he was the instructor for my class when I first joined the Foundation. He puts on a scary tone when conducting drill, but really wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“So long as the fly don’t hurt me.” Harper remarked jokingly. “‘sides, if I remember correctly, you came eighteenth in my class, Ward.” He added, a smirk crossing his face, as Ward rolled her eyes at him.
“It wasn’t last.”
“Third to.” He responded, with a slight chuckle.
“If it is any further comfort-” Arno piped up, holding out his hand, “I am a pacifist, my duties are purely spiritual, you need not worry about me princess.”
Collins again turned to Charlie, mustering the most reassuring smile he could. Though Charlie herself had come off of her high somewhat, she still appeared content, but more analytical now. “I understand…” She briefly glanced at Vaggie, who gave her a reassuring nod, encouraging her on. “However I still think it’s best we talk it over more first.”
There was a strange feeling of pride that welled up within Collins, change was everywhere, and it seemed that Charlie had lost some of her naivete. Though that feeling soon swallowed itself as he realized why and how they’d encouraged that change. “Of course, over coffee would be best.” He agreed, smiling back at Charlie, a certain degree of confidence that their relationship was still intact, as she maintained eye contact and smiled back up at him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Travel between Site-59 and Site-727 wasn’t difficult, but the inconvenience was certainly noteworthy. It made Administrator Wilcox wonder, as he traveled the halls of the earthly Site he had conducted so much of his work out of, if he should move some of his more direct operations down into Hell as well. He quickly snuffed that candle out though, afterall a fire engine can likewise catch fire, best to keep it a safe distance away. Besides, he could use the exercise.
He approached one of the laborator doors, a pair of white-clad security guards standing outside of it. Swiping his card, the Administrator entered, with the degradation of the room becoming evident. The counters cluttered with papers and equipment, whiteboards drawn on with markers that hadn’t been erased for over a month, and dozens of drawers half open, with all kinds of tools spilling out. Meanwhile, the culprit raced around the room, labocoat swaying, yellow goggles on, and with that dangling antenna in front of his face.
“SCP-666-2-BA-“ he announced, as the fish-demon came to a sudden halt in the center of the room, a flat look on his face as he was suddenly confronted. “I was told you had some progress to inform me of.”
“Are we seriously doing the numbers thing again? I thought we were done with that.” Baxter responded, rolling his eyes at the sentiment.
“We’ve discussed this before,” Wilcox groaned, “it’s for the sake of ease of identification and record keeping, besides its regulation.”
“Yes, yes, but Dr. Collins-“
“Dr. Collins likes to play with the rules, pushing them to their furthest most limits, something that I was ok with, so long as it brought results. Then it caused us to let our guards down… which isn’t happening again, therefore I will be more stringent on the rules from now on” He explained coldly, a certain expressionlessness on the man’s face as he only seemed to move the muscles necessary to speak and nothing more.
Baxter crossed his arms, “I just find your astigmatisms to be embolic of your lack of-“
“2-BA, do you have something for me or not.” Wilcox interrupted again, his tone becoming sterner by the moment.
“Yes yes, of course I have something.” The fish continued, leading over to a sealed hard case, unlocking it, within there were a couple hundred bullet casings, stowed point down as only the bases were visible.
Wilcox pinched the base of one between his index finger and thumb as he lifted it out, rotating it up to reveal the glowing angelic material fused to the tip of the projectile, with the rest of the bullet looking perfectly ordinary. “Fascinating…” he murmured.
“I lost some material due to experimentation-“ Baxter explained, “mostly to figure out how to fuse the material with the bullet’s core, however I maximized what remained, putting only around half a gram of the material into the tip of each cartridge, with enough to make just under two hundred cartridges.”
Wilcox twisted back toward the fish, “A single soldier carries more munition than that, let alone an entire Brigade.”
“I considered that, are you aware of the Overlord Carmella Carmine?” Baxter asked.
“SCP-666-3-CC, yes, she was at the overlord meeting some time ago. We don’t have much of a file on her.”
“She has large stockpiles of Angelic weaponry, if you want more of it, she’s the one to go after. I can tell you where to find her, and I believe you can handle the rest.”
Wilcox furrowed his brow, “How did you know all of this?”
“Let’s just say that the whole redemption ideal wasn’t exactly the reason I chose the hotel.”
Wilcox hummed, as it became clear that there was more to the fish than the simple scientific fascination he led on. “Very well, what of our other project?” Wilcox asked, returning the bullet to its case before shutting and locking it again.
Baxter jumped up in excitement as he raced across the room, digging through the scattered papers, before he eventually held one aloft in victory. “Most of my experiments with human materials have failed, thus I’m gonna need something that has far more powerful translocative abilities.” Racing forward he shoved a piece of paper into the Administrator’s hands, it was a photocopy from the Grimoire, specifically one of the pages on Asmodian Crystals.
Notes:
So, how was it?
Like I mentioned at the beginning, I’ve got more news about why this Chapter was massively delayed. However it basically narrows down to I’ve been very busy and struggling to get motivated.
Now, I love this story and I’m very happy and proud of how it’s turned out so far, and ever grateful for all of you who read it. However it’s become progressively harder for me to actually get myself to continue it. At first I thought that I was simply at the end of my writing phase, however I started another story with which I didn’t notice these issues, so it really is just this story.
I think I’ve just become burnt out with Helluva and Hazbin. I’ve been tired of Helluva Boss for a while now. The show has just lost its edge for me, I haven’t even watched the last four or five episodes, because I’ve just not been enjoying it. However I think the same has happened with Hazbin as well. I was really ecstatic when Hazbin came out, however since then I’ve become very disappointed by it. I think I still like it, but the more I think about it I just find more and more things about it that I’m not super happy with. Furthermore I’m just sick of the Hellaverse community in general, there’s so much drama all the time about everything. It got to a point that I just unfollowed everything related to it on social media, because I was just tired of it. I don’t know what happened to the community since Hazbin came out, but the toxicity just went into overdrive.
Of course I don’t mean to reflect any of this onto you guys, this is just personal stuff that’s caused me to lose motivation. Essentially, it’s me not you.
However I don’t really know where that leaves this story, unfortunately. I don’t wanna say it’s the end, because I do truly enjoy it and want to finish it but it’s just become more and more of a chore to write and I’m not enjoying it as much as I used to. In the end I don’t know what I’m gonna do, maybe it was just this chapter and the next will be smoother, maybe I just need to focus on some other communities and interests for a while, I don’t know. So all I’m gonna say is to expect the updates to get very sporadic.
I’m sorry to leave it off on a bit of a downer, but like always if you have feedback or improvements then I’d be glad to hear it, otherwise nice words are also appreciated.
Thank you for reading.
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