INCIDENT REPORT: 9410-C-[██]
In incident number nine on ████/████, SCP-9410 and [REDACTED] were placed in a 5x5x5m steel enclosure with no windows, doors, exits or avenues to bring anything in or out of the chamber.
Approximately 5 minutes after containment, Foundation member [REDACTED] accidentally tripped over electrical wires and started a fire. The fire began beside an unknown number of chemicals that turned it from a small flame to a raging inferno, reaching temperatures of [██] degrees. The fire burned straight through the steel containment chamber holding SCP-9410. Even as the entire steel box and the surrounding room exploded in flames and resulted in [█] dead, SCP-9410 and [REDACTED] were unharmed. It was heard by several faculty members humming to itself "I fell into a burning ring of fire" once escaping the affected area.
In addition, the fire destroyed [██] square feet of the facility and caused [█] other containment breaches, including SCP-096, SCP-049, and Dr. [REDACTED] was seen wheeling SCP-079 back to its containment chamber. SCP-682 also made an escape attempt during this time, but as it is too far to be affected directly by the fire, it is hypothesized that it was aware that the Foundation staff were distracted and attempted to use this to its benefit.
How there were loose electrical wires in a rigorously inspected branch of the facility is unknown. The chemicals which caused such an explosive reaction are unknown. How the chemicals reached the exact spot they did in the facility is unknown.
"Why is it always fucking fire." Thomas coughed beside him where they stood against a wall, watching as the massive flames ate their way through everything it touched. It was just like yesterday after the bomb went off, people were scrambling over one another to either get away or try and stop the inferno.
Jim was humming his favourite song and watching the chaos with glee. "What do you mean? We've never been caught by fire before." Someone rushed by with a bucket of water and threw it futilely onto the flames.
"I did have a life before you, you know." Thomas pointed out sardonically.
Another person rushed in with water only to be run into by a screaming man with a leg on fire, spilling the entire bucket uselessly. "I don't understand. There was no life before me."
Thomas rolled his eyes and then some people started screaming. Screaming louder and more panicked than they already were screaming.
"People are screaming because every time you roll your eyes a child in Ireland goes blind," Jim quoted factually.
"If that was true you'd never stop rolling your eyes." Thomas started to smile but abruptly let it fall, staring down the hall behind Jim in mounting terror. He started backing away, moving closer to the fire in favour of what was coming.
The only thing that makes Thomas truly scared is SCPs. Well, other than me of course, but I am the exception to most rules.
Jim turned around.
SCP-049 was walking down the hall, the dead bodies behind him leading to his position like breadcrumbs. Two seconds after Jim noticed him, the red sirens used to signal a containment breach blared through the corridor.
The dead bodies started to reanimate.
Buckets were dropped, people turned on each other, trampling others to get away. The screaming grew into a near frenzy. A woman shoved a man behind her to 049 and used his death as a distraction to escape.
Doing a double take and standing on his tippy-toes to see over the pandemonium, Jim noticed one guy leaning against the wall watching 049 approach with a bored expression on his face. Curious... very curious. But not important. What is important is the approach of his bird dementor friend. Well, they hadn't really talked enough to strictly be considered friends but this was his world so he makes the rules.
Jim felt a grin spreading on his face and half jogged to 049, smiling wider when he was finally noticed. He didn't get why everyone hated this doctor so much, in Jim's opinion he's by far the best of the lot.
"Hey! What's up 049, I missed you!" Jim reached out and grabbed 049's hand, pulling him in and slamming their shoulders together in a classic bro hug.
"Greetings Grognak the Destroyer Attorney at Law. I have not thought about you since we last met." 049's voice was just as deep and just as posh as he remembered. "Was the move you just performed a new medical technique of some sort that I have not yet been introduced to? A way of checking for the Pestilence perhaps?
"Nah," he shook his head emphatically, "That's just how communists greet each other. Anyway, what've you been up to?"
049 glanced at the approaching line of reanimated corpses behind him, "I have been immersed in my work. The Pestilence is unforgiving in its malignancy and I must perfect the cure."
"You know, I think I'm starting to see what you mean about that Pestilence. The people here," Jim tsked to himself. "Well, lemme just say that they got hella problems." And that's an understatement to say the least.
049 let out a wearied sigh. "It is unfortunately a deeply rooted problem at that, and a heavy burden to bear, but it must be done." The doctor shifted slightly. "Forgive me, but may I ask you a question?"
Jim nodded. "Shoot."
"There are rumours swirling through this facility, almost as swiftly as the Pestilence, that suggest the large explosion yesterday came from a new SCP. The only new SCP I am aware of is yourself. I apologize for assuming, but was that your doing?"
Jim grinned and bounced on his toes. "Sure was!" he exclaimed. "They tried to get 173 to snap my neck but I was like Swiper no Swiping and they were like 'oh shit' and then they got bombed and I was like 'my bad' but to be honest they deserved it."
"I am so pleased to hear that Grognak the Destroyer Attorney at Law." Jim thought 049's voice could probably be recreated if you talked through a long tin can. "It brings me great satisfaction to have another doctor such as yourself working to save these poor souls from what they cannot see in themselves."
Jim nodded solemnly. "I do my best, but it really takes a lot out of you... Although I guess the bombs take more out of them if you really think about it."
The doctor put a hand on his shoulder. "I understand completely. I hope you are successful with your other bombing endeavours. Until next time Grognak the Destroyer Attorney at Law, I am afraid the Pestilence waits for no one, not even I."
"Until then, my friend."
They nodded at each other and Jim turned to watch 049 and his army of the dead walk down the mostly empty hallway until they faded from view.
Jim cackled. "I seriously love that guy, he's great."
Looking back to where Thomas was, he found his former guard pressed against the wall, flattened like a starfish and hyperventilating.
Jim frowned. "Just because you don't like him Thomas doesn't mean you gotta be rude to him. You could've at least said hello." To be fair, Jim has hidden plenty of times from people he didn't feel like talking to, but he didn't bring it up because Thomas would be annoyingly logical and call him a hypocrite or something.
Thomas peeled himself off the wall, letting out a long breath and choking in air. "I'm not an SCP Grognak, if he noticed me he'd touch me and use his scalpel to have his sick little fun rearranging my guts."
"Why would he touch you?" Jim wrinkled his nose at Thomas' crassness. "No offence, but just because you're handsome doesn't mean everyone's gonna automatically want in your pants. Narcissism is not sexy."
Thomas sighed but his lips twitching belied the gesture of annoyance. "Your unrelenting obliviousness is exhausting Grognak. Now can we please stop loitering next to the raging inferno of flames?"
Jim shrugged. "Aight."
Jim hopped over one of the fallen buckets on their way out when he noticed the guy who didn't run from 049 still standing there, the flames glinted in his eyes as he stared at the inferno. The man's youth combined with his silver hair and ice blue eyes made him look like Jack Frost come to life. Frosty's black jeans and black long sleeve henley top only made his paleness more prominent.
He looks so weird.
Now that Jim was closer, he was vaguely able to remember seeing him in the cafeteria, standing against the wall just like he was now. Frosty had looked sad then, but at the moment the guy looked perplexed, frowning at the melting steel.
Jim stopped. "Hey man, you socially awkward or something?" he asked. "Yes offence, but you look like an idiot always standing against walls trying to look misunderstood and mad at the world or whatever. You should get a new hobby."
After a beat of silence wherein Jim's question was answered, Frosty's eyes moved away from the flames to turn painfully slowly towards him à la Exorcist. When they made eye contact at last, the man looked like Jim had just slapped him in the face, but Jim could say that for once in his life he'd done no such thing.
Frosty's eyes widened dramatically and his eyebrows rose to nearly touch his hairline. His mouth meanwhile started opening and closing over and over again like a dying fish. He pushed off the wall he was leaning and made to take a step forward, but his foot just hovered in the air before he shakily put it back down.
Frosty swallowed a few more times, his throat visibly bobbing up and down. "You can see me?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice surprisingly lower than you'd expect from what looked like a man barely out of his teens.
"What does that even mean? Am I supposed to 'a' you?" Jim scoffed. "Of course I see you."
If Lyle looked at him with fascination, this kid looked at him like he was Jesus reborn.
And then he started crying.
"Oh for fecks sake." Jim started backing away. "Why do people have emotions? They're so useless."
"What are you on about now?" Thomas turned to the sobbing man. "He's just standing there. And can we leave? It's getting really hot in here." Thomas pulled his shirt away from his skin to fan himself. The flames flared as if in response.
"There's nothing normal about that abomination Thomas." Jim grimaced. "He's a blight on this planet. A monstrosity among monstrosities."
Frosty started crying harder.
Jim grabbed Thomas' arm. "Hey, on three let's push him into the fire. Ready? One, Two—"
"Wait! Wait, please," Frosty took a step forward and wiped at his eyes, his voice wavered and he stared imploringly at Jim. "Can you— can you really hear what I'm saying, like I'm saying it? Please, please listen to me."
"No, I'm hearing what you're saying like you're not saying it," Jim answered dryly. Putting his hands on his hips he motioned to the flames. "You see that fire?"
The entire hall beyond the smoke was just blackened char and the roof looked like it was two seconds away from collapsing. If he was human and not inherently superior than everyone he probably would have cared more. As it were, Thomas did look increasingly worried every second that passed.
But Frosty didn't take his eyes off Jim, not even a glance or hint of a reaction to show that he saw the roaring flames approaching their position. He analyzed Jim's features as if committing them to memory.
Jim continued, "I'll dunk your head in that and turn you into a slushy. And not a good flavour of slushy either, you'd be the kind that no one wanted. If they named a slushy after you it'd be called, 'I Am Not A Good Flavour of Slushy I Am The Kind That No One Wants', that's how bad you'd be."
"Grognak, as much as I hate to admit it I am almost used to your…personality, but the guy is literally making small talk." Thomas turned back to the flames. "Maybe what we should be focusing on is the roof that's about to collapse on us, or perhaps the toxicity of smoke inhalation, or even the, oh I don't know, actual fucking flames about to melt the skin off our bones."
Jim narrowed his eyes. "Your face is small talk."
Thomas sighed.
"I'm an SCP," Frosty blurted out.
Jim turned to look at the icicle man in disbelief. "That is glaringly obvious. The idea of anything about you being normal is a monstrous concept." He turned to Thomas. "Okay let's go but just so you know we're not leaving because you told me to leave, we're going because I decided that I want to leave now. If you told me to leave but I wanted to stay, I would not listen to you and I would spit in your face and you'd be really upset about it." With that he started walking down the hall away from the fire.
Thomas hurried to catch up, not responding in favour of sticking as close as possible to him like a very large backpack. Jim didn't check to see if Frosty was following them.
As soon as they were out of the danger zone, the ceiling collapsed.
Horrible screeching and groaning noises were their only warning before the earth rumbled. The floor above them collapsed with the ceiling as the flames rushed even higher and burned brighter. New kindling eagerly fell into its hungry maw and the smoke grew exponentially. The former crackle of flames turned into a roar of power and he heard Thomas swear viciously beside him.
Jim looked up just in time to see a metal beam burnt in half to create a jagged edge, similar to a blade, swing in their direction.
Jim didn't even blink. It went right past them.
It went right past them and pierced straight through Frosty's heart with a sickening squelch.
The beam was 3 inches thick and with the speed it had gained, Frosty was halfway up it: a killing blow. Frosty's hands reached out uselessly to grab at the metal impaling him.
Jim was about to start clapping at the beam for a job well done when he noticed something curious.
There was no blood.
Neither the steel-beam-turned-DIY-stake nor anywhere surrounding the wound was there even a speck of red.
Even stranger perhaps was when Frosty reached forward and started pulling himself off the beam. As in, yanking himself through the massive hole in his heart without even a grimace of pain. Looking at his face you'd think he was playing a casual game of tug of war, never mind the fact that the "rope" was rupturing his heart with each tug. At this rate, all that'd be left of it was mush.
But when Frosty reached the end, he popped off with a small suction noise and looked at Jim insecurely, as if waiting for his inevitable horror.
There was no hole in Frosty's body. A thick circle of fabric missing from his shirt was the only evidence that he'd been dealt what should have been certain death.
It was the most normal thing Jim had seen from him since they'd met.
Jim looked the man up and down. "Maybe you're not so bad Frosty. You should get stabbed more often."
Frosty's shoulders practically melted with relief and he beamed at Jim. He opened his mouth, probably to begin another litany of unintelligent gibber, when another beam fell and swung straight into the back of his head with a ringing clang.
Frosty fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, arms remaining by his side and falling straight onto his face. Jim could've reached forward to break his fall but then it wouldn't have been as funny.
Jim doubled over, wheezing. The body reminded him of when 173 tripped that one time. Classic 173.
"Do you have a coin?" He asked Thomas who was warily watching the ceiling above them.
Thomas looked at him. "Why would I have a coin Grognak?" Thomas gestured to his D-class jumpsuit.
"Do you always answer a question with a question?" Jim scowled. He wasn't worried about the flames hurting him, but Thomas was bound to be hurt if they didn't leave soon and Jim wasn't done with the man yet. This wasn't the time to be difficult. "It's really annoying."
"Only when they're stupid questions." Thomas went back to watching the ceiling.
"There are no stupid questions, just stupid people." Jim looked down at Frosty's body which had yet to move. He was planning on flipping a coin to decide if he should bring Frosty with them, heads for leaving him and tails for keeping him because it didn't look like he was getting up any time soon. Maybe he actually died this time? What if he's like a shitty cat that only gets one life instead of nine?
Jim would've gone with that and called it a day if not for the still missing blood. A beam that hard and moving that fast would've done some serious damage, even to someone like Thomas who had a rock for a brain. But if Frosty could survive literally destroying his heart, then why would a little concussion be the final nail in the coffin?
It wouldn't.
Jim sighed, and allowed himself to stare at the ceiling with Thomas for a moment.
"Grab a leg and start pulling Frosty's body," Jim instructed. "I won't be helping because I don't want to."
"Create your disturbing murder fantasies later Grognak." Thomas' voice sounded strained from his chin being tilted so high up. "He's just resting while we wait for you to get us the hell out of here."
Jim scrunched his face up. "You can call it resting to protect your delicate sensibilities if you want but it doesn't change the fact that his lights are out and no one's home!" He blew out a harsh breath. "Remember when we had a moment about how those doctors never listen, how they never learn? You called them stupid for not taking me seriously and right now I'm telling you, Frosty is one hundred percent unconscious. Why would I lie?"
Thomas gave him a look.
"Okay you got me there." Jim shrugged. "Fine. I can't believe I'm doing manual labour." Grimacing he reached down and grabbed ahold of Frosty's ankle to start dragging him like a mop.
"HOLY FUCK." Thomas stared at Frosty and backed up in shock. Jim reached out to pull Thomas back as a piece of the ceiling fell into the space he'd just backed into.
"Commit suicide later Thomas, let's go."
"That's a dead body! He— his hair was brown before!" Thomas sputtered. "What the—"
"He's not dead, or at least I don't think he is... he just likes to die sometimes, but he'll be alright." Jim didn't wait for Thomas' pea brain to catch up and started stomping down the hall as if he was some sort of pack mule.
Thomas kept glancing over as they finally got away from that hallway. The flames immediately swallowed the space behind them once they turned the corner and approached the elevator. If Thomas had any objections to taking the elevator during a serious chemical fire, he didn't say anything.
Jim yanked the body over the doorway and hit the button to the floor above them.
The doors closed on Frosty's head.
"Oops, why have one concussion when you can have two I guess." Jim chuckled and grabbed Frosty's silver hair to lift up his head and then drop it back in the elevator with a THUNK. "Or three, even better!" Pressing the button again, he sniffed and waited.
"So he was like this the whole time?" Thomas asked, still wide-eyed.
Jim shrugged. "Pretty much."
"And all those things you were saying to him… they made sense as a response to what he was saying?"
Jim dropped Frosty's ankle to start sarcastically clapping. "Big brain Thomas, big brain."
Thomas turned away from him mid-sentence and faced the doors again. His face reverting to neutrality until none of the confusion that was previously written there was visible. It looked for all intents and purposes like Thomas had never asked a question at all.
Shrugging again, Jim picked up the foot once more as the elevator dinged. He hoped dragging a body behind him would be enough for people to not talk to him once they stepped off.
"WHAT THE—" Thomas shouted but cut himself off with a hand to his mouth.
Jim started pulling the body out into the bustling hall. Fortunately, instead of getting suspicious of him, people actually moved out of the way when they saw him coming with the body. He made a mental note in his head: to obtain access to the express line, BYOC— bring your own corpse. That's dead useful. Heh, get it?
"Grognak, somethings wrong here." Thomas removed his hand and spoke with uncharacteristic hesitance.
A team of guards marched past them, each foot stepping on Frosty's hand.
Jim stopped walking and spun around to face Thomas, pointing at the body. "He said he's an SCP so you're just being as uselessly susceptible to them like you always are. Now, Simon Says shut the feck up and think about what you've done."
"But—"
Jim groaned and started walking again. "You're terrible at this game."
"What was he saying the whole time then? To me it sounded like he was— like he was just normal and being polite! But as soon as you touched him his whole body and demeanor changed and it's like I could see him."
Jim sighed. "Nothing important. He was just being annoying and then he got stabbed through the heart with a huge metal rod and that's why he has that hole in his shirt."
"Fuck off Grognak, he did not—" Thomas paused to look at Frosty's torso and then covered his face with his hands. "Of course he got stabbed through the heart, why I continue to think logically is beyond me."
Blessedly the rest of the walk was silent, likely due to Thomas' existential crisis, and they reached the perfect destination to take a dead body: the cafeteria.
Thomas shook himself, taking one last look at Frosty before moving ahead to nudge the door open by a hair's breadth, quietly peering inside.
"Oh shit. What the hell? That's the Intelligence Agency. What are they doing here?"
Jim raised an eyebrow at Thomas' back. "Should I care about what that means?"
Thomas scoffed quietly. "They're the badass of the badass Grognak, for real. Those guys go out to find SCPs when they don't even know what they do." Thomas shuddered and pulled away from the door, running a hand through his hair. "It's strange though, what are they doing at base…? Doesn't matter I guess, we gotta go somewhere else. We don't want to mess with those guys, trust me. It's not worth it."
Jim pushed Thomas aside and peeked inside. Men and women in black armour and helmets were standing in tight formational lines while commanders sans helmets paced in front of them, issuing orders.
A cafeteria filled with advanced tactical teams probably arranged to control the massive containment breach that Jim just caused… again. Talk about awkward.
"You're probably right Thomas, but I don't want to drag Frosty around anymore." That wasn't even a joke, for looking so slim, Frosty was not an easy package to deliver. So, with his distaste for labour in mind, Jim stepped back, lifted up a leg, and slammed it into the door. It went flying backwards with a BANG!
In situations like these, Jim found the best way to avoid being seen is to act like you have every right to be there. Blend in with the crowd and all that.
"THE POLICE ARE NOT LOOKING FOR US." Jim spoke loudly, but casually enough that if anyone was listening in, he wouldn't seem suspicious.
Every single head in the room whipped around to stare at him.
Feck, they're good.
He just had to keep his cool. "Thomas, pull those chairs away," he motioned to the table closest to them without looking. The officers had changed formation and faced them so the ones who were at the back were now at the front. The commanders were making their way through the lines, their faces hard.
Looking beside him, he did a double take. Thomas wasn't there. Spinning around Jim found him crouched down and leaning against the wall, both hands covering his face.
Jim sighed.
Dropping Frosty's ankle, he grabbed a hold of a chair with both hands and made sure to drag it as hard as he could so that it made a horrible screeching noise, all while staring at Thomas. Then he did the same with the next chair. And the next. He made sure each 10 chairs around the table were scraped as slowly as possible.
"You could've prevented that Thomas if you just listened to me, it's all your fault." Jim gave him the finger and then swung his arms to bunny hop onto the now free table with a grunt that echoed through the silent room.
Once up, he laid down on his stomach and stretched his arm out, grasping at Frosty's ankle. It took about a minute of failed attempts before he was finally able to grab a firm hold and lift the leg up. He squatted on the edge, "Okay, one two three—" He gave a fast and hard yank, falling onto his butt.
Frosty's torso hung off the edge still so he used his heels to scoot back and then slowly started shimmying backwards. Frosty might've hit his head a couple more times on the edge of the table legs but that's okay, why have three concussions when you can have seven?
After more effort than he had exerted for a human in decades, he finally sat back on the table, Frosty's not-corpse chilling right next to him.
Jim smiled with satisfaction and looked up to call Thomas over.
Thomas wasn't against the wall anymore. Well, he wasn't against that wall, that is. Thomas was in fact against the wall, but it was on the other side of the room.
In handcuffs.
And every officer in the room was pointing their weapon at Jim.
I've been made.
"Who are you." A voice barked at him. Searching the room, his eyes landed on one of the commanders with gray hair shaved to a buzzcut. Her dark skin was old and weathered, but set with steely determination. She didn't look at what she probably thought was a dead body, just kept trained eyes focused on Jim's crouched form. She'd probably seen some shit. And some fucked up shit at that, but that wasn't enough to convince Jim just yet. So far, the guards and officers that worked for The Foundation had been nothing but a disappointment.
He tilted his head. If they were here for the containment breach then they should know who caused it, but it seemed they didn't. From what Thomas said these guys aren't in the facility normally so he guessed it made sense that they wouldn't have heard about his exploits just yet. Also, to be fair, The Foundation only found out he was an SCP yesterday so he might as well cut them some slack.
"My name is Jim." He sat down from his crouching position and started swinging his legs over the edge of the table. Splaying his hands out behind him, he accidentally smacked Frosty in the face. "I'm an SCP."
Immediately all the guns in the room clicked, their safety's turning off.
Jim grinned.
"NO! Don't shoot him!" Thomas shouted. "Please listen to me. I know I'm dressed as a D-class but I work here. My keycards in my pocket, just check." Thomas was frantic. He used his massive size to pull his arms free from the officers that held them and raised his cuffed hands up as if trying to calm a wild animal.
A different commander with a similar buzzcut, piercing blue eyes, and only slightly younger than the first, nodded his head to the guards holding Thomas. They searched Thomas' body and pulled out the card, immediately handing it to their superior.
The commander scanned it for a few moments then pulled out a cellphone. Still staring at the card he made a call, speaking too softly for Jim to hear. Bored, Jim looked back at Thomas and grinned further. Despite his pleas, Thomas looked like a badass soldier again. His face was stoic and strong, none of the anxiety he must be feeling peeking through.
A minute later and the commander hung up. Looking up, the man nodded his head towards the men holding Thomas.
If Thomas wasn't so handsome and Jim hadn't spent so long analyzing his features as a result, he would have missed the minute relaxing of Thomas' shoulders as the operatives stepped forward and took off his handcuffs. He didn't rub his wrists, just nodded to the men and made his way back to Jim, ignoring the guns still pointed at him.
"You can't shoot him." Thomas leaned on the table.
They watched Thomas suspiciously. "Explain."
"Grognak's file hasn't been registered yet because he's a new SCP; he's only been here for 3 days so they know jack shit about him." Thomas stood up straighter. "But I've been with him almost the entire time and I've seen firsthand what he can do. If you try to hurt or contain him it turns into a complete shitshow. If you all shot at him, you'd shoot yourself by accident, or maybe the floor would collapse beneath you, or maybe Jesus himself would smite you down where you stand and I'm not exaggerating. Anything other than Grognak getting hurt."
The commanders paused, taking that in. They exchanged a look.
"Do you have anything to verify your claims?" The female commander asked it harshly, but she signaled for her men to lower their guns. They did so cautiously.
"You've heard about the bombing, yes? The containment breach we had yesterday? The deadliest containment breach that has ever been recorded in this facility? The fire burning the facility below us right now and the other containment breach happening right now?" Thomas paused. "They're all because of him." He jerked a thumb at Jim.
"They've set SCP-173 on him, shot at him, tried to run him over, and locked him up in chamber C-47. C-47!" Thomas slammed a fist on the table. "They locked us in C-47 and he escaped without raising a finger. He met SCP-049 and they hugged for fucks sake. He's yet to get a single scratch and this facility has lost over 350 personnel in 3 days. With this fire and containment breach that could easily be doubled now."
Jim felt all their eyes turn to him. For the first time since he'd gotten here, he felt true consideration. Not the immediate dismissal as a potential danger because he looked too sexy to be an anomalous being. These people were taking him seriously and it made him like them more than any of the other staff he'd met. Other than Thomas and Leo of course. I wonder what Leo is up to anyway... if he's still alive.
"Thank you for the kind words Thomas. My name is Jim or Grognak the Destroyer Attorney at Law Esquire M.D., and the only thing I'm guilty of is being innocent." Jim gave as large of a bow as he could while still sitting.
Distrust radiated off of them.
"You may be right," the female commander spoke to Thomas. "But we can't take the word of one man. Perhaps this SCP has memetic properties and you aren't acting as you would normally. Perhaps you're the SCP and you've somehow tricked us. How can we tell?" She eyed them calculatingly. "That being said, we won't shoot in case it is true. Lord knows we have bigger problems right now."
The younger commander nodded sharply. "That's correct, we have a mission to complete so this is not our priority right now." He shifted to face his men, but made sure not to show Jim his back. "Team Alpha 1-1, 1-2, and 1-3 move out. Lieutenant Sommer." He nodded to the older woman who nodded back.
Immediately half of the room saluted him and raised their weapons, stalking out of the cafeteria. Jim wondered how many would make it back. For once, he didn't hope for their deaths though, these guys seemed smart and paid attention. A much bigger upgrade from the guards working on site who hear don't shoot and then start shooting.
Just then, Frosty gasped rather dramatically and shot straight up, fumbling around to find his bearings and scanning the room. His movements were jerky and panicked but when he caught sight of Jim he let out a sigh of relief and moved closer, the heat radiating off his body contrasting with his name. Frosty either somehow missed them, or wasn't bothered by the squadron of elite tactical officers. Although the officers didn't seem to care much about him either, not even looking in his direction even after his resurrection.
Frosty stared up at him. "It wasn't a dream," he whispered, a hint of something fragile in his eyes.
"Do you normally get impaled through the heart?" Jim asked. "Not that I'm judging, we all have our vices. Except for Thomas, he doesn't really have a personality. Does that mean not having a personality is his personality?" Thomas turned to him with a constipated look on his face.
"Is he awake? I remember you dragging someone across the hallway. I— I know he had a different face, but if I could just…" Thomas broke off, frustrated. "It's like I can't focus."
In lieu of answering, Jim held his hand up to his face and looked over at Frosty contemplatively. Tilting his head, he reached out and placed it on Frosty's shoulder.
Instantly, all the eyes in the room snapped to Frosty. Guns were raised once again and Thomas backed up a step, seeing Frosty's pale, icy blue eyes for the first time.
"This is Frosty, he's another SCP." Jim gestured to the man with his free hand. "Shoot Frosty and it'll probably only make him stronger. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he ate the bullet."
Frosty's smile morphed into one of exaggerated toughness and he turned to face the officers. "Bullet equal protein. Protein make Frosty strong." He thumped his chest.
"Oh God, there's two Grognaks." Thomas looked horrified.
"Hold your fire." Sommer barked at her team. She turned an assessing gaze towards the misfit trio.
"You." She pointed at Jim. "You hurt anyone that tries to hurt you, correct?"
"Affirmative." Jim saluted.
She turned to Frosty. "And from what I'm hearing you're invulnerable and you got some invisibility thing goin' on, correct?"
Frosty wiggled excitedly in his seat at being spoken to and glanced over at Jim before saluting her as well. "Affirmative."
Sommer's eyes obtained a rather nefarious gleam and she paced towards them. Four of her squadron broke off to accompany her but she waved a hand and they immediately desisted, falling back into rank.
She stopped when she was a few feet away from their table. This close Jim could see the scars that covered her heavily lined face. One in particular cut from her left eyebrow, down her cheek and ended at her chin. Either someone with a massive sword or something with a massive claw decided they didn't want her to have a face anymore.
"I don't know exactly what this facility has done to you and what you've done back and frankly I don't give a shit," she started.
"...Okay." Jim didn't remember asking.
"However, SCPs like you two could be useful and God knows we need useful around here. You would be a one-man army and you would be dead handy to have for reconnaissance." She motioned to Jim and Frosty respectively. "If you aren't completely evil sons of bitches I might consider letting you work with us."
A man behind her stepped forward. "Ma'am, with all due respect you can't seriously be suggesting we work with them?" He looked flabbergasted. "That's absurd."
"What's absurd is your audacity, soldier." she snapped, not even turning to face the man. "Remember your place."
Another soldier spoke up. "I think Lieutenant Sommer may be on to something. Why not make use of what we have?" Low whispers erupted as the group turned to discuss their options with one another.
Sommer raised a hand and any chatter immediately paused. "Don't get too excited, it would take months of convincing and then testing and paperwork and even more testing."
Frosty's eyes had lit up during the debate. He leaned forward in his seat, nearly bouncing off the edge and Jim tightened his hold on the man instinctively.
While the offer sounded interesting, there was just one problem. Jim blinked demurely. "Define completely evil," he asked innocently. They had to be missing a few brain cells if they expected him to become some flower picking hippy just to suit their needs.
Sommer gave him a knowing look. "There is no black and white here. Everyone in this facility is some type of evil and that's the damn truth. I honestly don't give a fuck who you've murdered or how many or even how much you enjoyed it. In case you haven't noticed, the Foundation isn't run by men trying to kiss Jesus' asshole—"
"And women." Jim interjected.
"—As long as you're evil to our enemies and not us then it doesn't matter what kind of fucked up shit you got in your head."
What a wonderful philosophy to have in life. The only thing Jim hated more than people who pretended to be all good, were people who believed themselves to be all good.
Just then, static came from her radio and she backed away from them a step to pull it out and listen. "Team Alpha 1-1 requesting backup on floor 3, Block A. SCP-096 is loose and rampaging, over." The voice was unsteady and came out in uncontrolled bursts, borderline gasping, as if they were sprinting.
Sommer raised it to her mouth. "10-4, on route." Without another word, she turned her back to them in a surprising display of either trust or stupidity and prowled back to her team. "Beta Team 1-2 and 1-3 you heard him, get in there. Don't try to be a hero, have the bag ready and keep your eyes down for fucks sake."
"Yes ma'am!" They chorused together, saluting her and just like the Alpha team, they marched out the cafeteria door without hesitation.
"The rest of you follow me, I just know that lizard is gonna try some stupid shit again." Sommer rubbed a hand across her face and motioned the remaining group to follow her. They did so without further comment, marching past her when she paused at the door. Looking back, she stared right at Jim and raised both her eyebrows. "I can't stop you and if I could I don't know if I would," she snorted, "but try not to burn the entire place down. I'm giving you some of my trust right now, don't ruin it or you'll never get it back, capiche?"
Jim nodded. "Don't worry, I'll only burn the important places, not the entire facility."
Sommer shared a look with Thomas and actually smiled at whatever expression she found on his face. "All the important places, then. Alright, here we go boys."
And then there were three.
Jim watched the door swing shut. "Huh." He was impressed. He hoped her kidneys didn't get torn out. Sommer actually seemed pretty chill. Or as cool as you can get for being a copper.
"Sommer's like who you want to be Thomas but you're too scared of SCPs to ever get that far." Jim dropped the unfortunate truth bomb.
Thomas rolled his eyes. "If you could die you would be scared too Grognak."
"I'm scared all the time… of your face." Jim smirked.
Thomas pointed an accusing finger at him. "You literally called me First Guard because I came first in 'handsomeness!'"
"I only called you that because there were no other guards around after you beat Flint to death."
Thomas was shaking his head already. "You called me that before I killed him," he argued.
Jim snapped his finger and bared his teeth in victory. "Aha! So you admit it. You killed Flint. Why'd you kill him? You are a very murderous human but you're not the type to do it just for fun. Were you jealous because I was talking to him and not you? That's happened before you know."
As if he flipped a light switch off, Thomas' face abruptly went slack and shut down, losing all its good humour and setting itself in stone. Jim reared back and almost tripped over his own feet, giving himself a mild case of whiplash. He'd never seen Thomas look like this before. He didn't even look this bad when they were with SCP-173. Jim shared a look with Frosty who, rather uselessly, only looked back at him dreamily. Thomas' mood changes were seriously making him question reality, how was he expected to know what this one meant?!
Uhh maybe he just remembered he left the stove on? No, that can't be it he was locked up as a D-class, no access to kitchen appliances. Um is he… nope he's still imitating Medusa's victims, that's not good. Okay, okay, find a pattern, find a pattern… What happened the other times Thomas got like this? He's usually a firecracker so maybe I don't have to figure it out? If I play stupid will he just, I don't know, get on with it? Is that rude a rude thing to say? I don't care.
Jim steeled himself for the onslaught. "Come on you know I love a good bit of murder gossip. Did he steal your lunch from the community fridge? Or did he not agree with your communist lifestyle? Which one is it?"
"No Grognak." Thomas paced a few feet away, turning his back to Jim and a curiously listening Frosty.
"Did you know Flint was going to have a daughter? That he was getting engaged?" Thomas started quietly. "He would tell me about it all the time. Never shut up about it really. And he was always so— so accommodating. I'd tell him to leave me alone and he'd laugh and wave goodbye. He used to buy lunch for our entire sector for no reason other than being nice. They told us that being nice would get you killed here, but he didn't believe them, he didn't listen. And then he died. I killed him." His voice broke.
Jim was about to make a snappy retort, eager to get this over with, but stopped at the threat of tears. He'd yet to see Thomas cry since they had met and he wasn't sure if he liked seeing it. This was way above his pay grade.
He cleared his throat and looked at Frosty, gesturing to Thomas with a flick of his head.
Frosty looked taken aback and shook his head, nodding at Jim, then pointing at Thomas.
Jim made a face.
Frosty mimicked someone walking with his fingers and then wrapped his arms around himself in a mock hug, pointing sharply at Thomas once again.
Jim punched a fist into his hand, the action making a small slapping noise, then slid a finger along his neck, pointing aggressively at Frosty.
Frosty held his hands to his throat and mimicked choking to death, falling flat on the table, before rising up with a smile.
Jim sighed and flipped him off before reluctantly turning back to Thomas. Clearing his throat again, he started awkwardly, "Oh no. Um, thoughts and prayers." Jim looked at Frosty uncertainly. Frosty shrugged. "That's, uh, so horrible. I'm sure you don't want to talk about it."
Thomas didn't answer or move.
Frosty coughed.
"Soooo…" Jim continued. "Why'd you kill him?"
"I was so angry at you Grognak." Thomas spun back around suddenly, tear tracks raced down his sharp, ebony cheeks. He clenched his fists. "I just wanted— needed you to shut up."
Jim completely understood Thomas' plight.
"It was the anniversary of my family's death and you wouldn't shut up. I couldn't take it anymore and I thought for once, fuck it. Being cold and ruthless is so valued here, so for once in my goddamn life, I'll be what they want me to be." Thomas took a deep breath. "I planned on killing you."
And then Jim understood. "Oh."
Thomas laughed without humour and wiped at his cheeks angrily, "Yes, 'oh'. Years of pent-up anger and the moment I let it go your 'powers,'" He air quoted mockingly, "redirected it to what would be the worst possible outcome for me. Flint. Killing Flint. The only truly good person I've met in this fucking shithole."
Silence reigned in the large room.
Jim didn't know what to say. He hadn't known Flint and he didn't care that he died. He didn't understand why people got so upset when people died. He tried imagining Thomas dying but he didn't like the image so he stopped. Is that what people feel? It wasn't fun but he wasn't on the floor weeping. If Thomas died, what would he want other people to say about him, even if they didn't know him well?
He hadn't a clue.
Frosty whispered in his ear, "You should probably say something… make some shit up."
Jim hopped off the table, dragging Frosty with him and straightened, looking anywhere but at Thomas. "Flint was a good man, a man who stood for most things that most people liked and stood against things that people didn't like…" he paused. "hear hear." Jim whispered back to Frosty, "I dunno, that's the most generic thing I can come up with."
Frosty started clapping, seemingly oblivious to the fact that no one else joined in.
Thomas still didn't say anything and Jim actually felt himself becoming even more uncomfortable. He shuffled his feet and surveyed the room, suddenly very interested in the small cracks in the floor and the little paint inconsistencies he could find in the walls.
He was about to go check out SCP-294 and try ordering lava, anything other than the stifling presence of emotions, when Frosty spoke again.
"How did your family die Thomas?"
Thomas actually snarled at him.
"Frosty!" Jim broke in, faking a chuckle and glancing between them nervously. "That's incredibly insensitive and that's coming from me. You can't ask people you've just met about their traumatic history unless we hate them, yes? If we hate them then go ahead and ask right away, use their trauma against them. Write that down, that's some good shit."
Frosty startled and frantically started patting himself down, eventually pulling out a pen from his pocket. He started scribbling furiously on his hand after murmuring an apology to Thomas.
Jim squeezed the shoulder he still held. "I'll ask. Thomas, how did your whole family die?"
Thomas crumpled to the floor and held his head in his hands.
"Do you want me to kill them for you? I can add on the torture package too if you want. Free of charge of course. Friends and family don't pay, that'd be an actual crime." Jim's chuckle was genuine this time.
"You torture people?" Frosty asked, pausing his writing to glance at him with unreadable eyes.
"You don't?"
"No." He shook his head slowly. "I tried it sometimes, anything to get people to notice me, but I never enjoyed it. I don't like hurting innocent people... I'll hurt bad people if need be but I wouldn't want to do it for work." Jim stared at him uncomprehendingly and he rushed to finish speaking, "You can though," Frosty assured him.
Jim raised his arms above him and adopted a withered old man voice, "Oh great and mighty Turg, I thank you for this snowman's blessing. I can now murder with a full heart." He deadpanned and let his arms fall back down.
Frosty grinned sheepishly.
Jim smiled back and then remembered what he'd said. "Hey, what's going on with all that anyway. Why do people not notice you? Is it because you're ugly?"
Frosty barked out a laugh. "Figures the first person that can see me would call me ugly," he chuckled and didn't seem too bothered by it. "They call me SCP-1504. Everything I do is interpreted as being the peak of normal by everyone around me. If I punch someone they won't notice that I did it, they'll think they got a random bloody nose. To everyone else I look like the most average person on the planet to the point that their eyes glide over me, sinking past me like quicksand. Nobody actually hears what I say, just what they think would be the most normal response. I can also interfere with electrical systems." Frosty had been staring into the distance during his monologue but snapped back to attention suddenly, "Oh, and nothing hurts me and I can't die."
To say Jim was bewildered would be an understatement.
"I don't understand. People say you look average?" Frosty shrugged, just as lost. "That's an insult to average people, but okay, moving on, were you around when this planet first formed too?"
This wasn't Jim's first rodeo. He'd been in contact with many iterations of life on this planet and others who claimed to be immortal and carted big promises of staying by his side forever. No one ever kept their promise.
He told himself he wasn't disappointed when Frosty laughed and shook his head. "Wouldn't that've been a nightmare. More than the nightmare my life has already been that is."
Jim snorted. "It was for a long time, don't even get me started."
Thomas jerked his head up from his fetal ball of depression, eyes wide. The longer he stared at Jim and the longer Jim stared back without reacting the more his face contorted into a look of absolute horror. Frosty noticed the exchange and his smile slowly slid off his face as he glanced back and forth between the two.
"What?" Jim looked between them. "Did you remember something? You didn't tell me you have amnosia." He paused. "I didn't kill your family, did I? That would be a plot twist."
Frosty mimicked Thomas and they both stared at him, neither of them moving as if frozen in ice. Jim felt the good-natured smile slide off his face. The room suddenly felt a few degrees colder.
"Seriously, why are you looking at me like that?" He looked behind him just in case but found nothing but rows of empty tables and an overturned food cart. Glancing down at himself he didn't find anything but his hot bod.
Neither of them answered.
Oh maybe it's— "Is it the planet thing?"
Thomas choked and Frosty's eyes grew larger.
It's the planet thing.
"Guys, it's not a big deal. You freaked me out for a second." He sighed. "I was in a different galaxy and all the stars and planets finally started to cave in on themselves, you know, as they do, and nothing can hurt me so I popped away and ended up watching this massive explosion and then boom. Tada! Planet Earth! Some of the organisms from my last planet must've come with me because whaddya know, couple million years go by and they're evolved, and there's finally life again! Other than that though it was mostly really, really boring the first couple billion years, hence the nightmare thing." He tilted his head, assessing Frosty. "I don't remember meeting you though, are you an alien or something?"
Frosty's mouth opened and closed and he swallowed harshly. Jim watched his throat bob up and down. "I'm centuries old, not— I'm not billions. I can't even imagine billio—" He choked again and glanced to where Jim's hand met his shoulder.
Thomas looked like he'd never seen him before. His eyes flicking across Jim's form, taking him in like he was surreal and he couldn't process it all.
"You've lived through everything. Since the beginning of time. You brought the organisms to this planet?!" Thomas clutched his head. "You're basically the God of this planet, you— you started life as we know it here! Oh my god. We're the result of the life from the planet you came from! Not our own natural evolution. Shit— I'm… I was religious, what does this even mean for that? Are you a God?" His volume got louder the longer he rambled until he was practically yelling in the empty cafeteria.
"I don't know."
Frosty looked back up, mouth gaping even further, "You... you don't know if you're a... god? The God?"
"I no longer remember my beginning. I assume I had a mother, though I'm sure she would not exist in a form humans could comprehend. It's too bad cause none of the good Yo Momma jokes work with me, I miss out on a lot that way. But yeah, I've always just… just been. I don't remember a time before I've been." Jim said absentmindedly.
That was actually true. Most people don't remember their birth anyways, but he doesn't remember a time when he became something. There wasn't such a thing as time before him. All he knew was that there wasn't anything one second, not even darkness or a void just nothing, and then there was. It didn't answer all his questions and it certainly didn't answer anyone else's, but it's all he's got.
"What are you then?" Thomas panic-shouted. "Truly. Are you even real?" Terror reeked from his body language. Whether Thomas was terrified of him or of what the existence of him meant, he couldn't say.
"Just as my mother is incomprehensible to you, if you saw me as I truly am, your minds would crumble in the face of what you are not able to process." Jim scratched his cheek. "I think the best way to put it is… I'm not a being per say. I'm a concept come to life…" he paused, thinking it over in his head. "If that makes sense."
~Thomas~
No, it doesn't make sense.
Thomas wasn't even sure how to begin unpacking this. He thought once he let out his lingering resentment towards Grognak about Flint— and he knew that was unfair and Grognak hadn't forced him to have murderous intent in the first place, but he thought once he yelled it out, once he cried for the first time in ages, he could actually start to heal.
He was wrong.
He forgot that Grognak never lets you just rest. Never lets you sit there and process whatever horrible thing just happened. Because he's not normal. And it's never been more apparent than now.
Grognak is billions of years old.
Maybe as old as time itself and definitely not the basic white man he appears to be.
God, he could feel a breakdown coming quick and he'd literally just had one.
He remembered when he first realized that Grognak could not be normal. That he was something else. Really, it had seemed so stupidly obvious to him, sitting alone in that dark cell thinking to block out the ringing silence. SCP-049 had called Grognak an SCP right in front of him for fucks sake.
That didn't mean it hadn't felt like a punch to the gut when he figured out Grognak was one of the things he both hated and feared. And that Grognak couldn't be hurt, at least not in the way Thomas wanted him to hurt, only added to the frustration.
He'd told himself that the next time he saw Grognak, he would ignore the SCP, not give it the attention it seemed to crave in an effort to replace the punch he desperately wanted to throw. Grognak's responses to the world around him were too nonsensical to be his actual personality. "It has to be a bid for more of the spotlight, or a manipulation tactic like 035," Thomas had thought.
How naive he was.
It'd only struck him that this truly was Grognak as a person when he turned that corner outside SCP-173's chamber and saw him standing there. Standing there in a uniform from someone he probably killed. He'd looked at Grognak, who was probably just told that he was going to be ruthlessly experimented on for no reason, not even worth enough to make it as a footnote in a research paper and Thomas saw nothing. No pain, no fear, no worry, not even exasperation. Complete indifference. And true indifference. As if you could offer to give him a hug or break his femur and he wouldn't care enough to choose.
In that moment, Thomas knew with an absolute, unquestionable certainty that he was so far out of his league it was beyond laughable. Beyond even finding a sliver, just a sliver, of humour within it. The realization had sunk to his stomach like lead and for the first time in his life he'd thought, "what's the point?"
Even when his family was charred into ashes right in front of him and the Intelligence Agency barrelled through, faces set and guns blazing, he'd felt the burning drive for revenge, for vengeance, for life. But faced with this severely balding, innocuous looking middle-aged man with empty eyes and a gaze that burned so deep and so cold he could feel it in his bones... Thomas felt the fire leaking from his soul. As if the cold emptiness emanating from this utterly terrifying Being melted him down to a pile of atoms and dust on the floor.
He'd never met an SCP that made him want to quit his job as fast as Grognak did. He'd never met an SCP who'd made him want to quit at all! And what's worse, no one else seemed to feel the catastrophic emptiness radiating off Grognak in waves of power. So much power and all of it was hidden behind an empty face and a premature balding head.
When Thomas saw Dr. Corner's smug grin and all his old coworkers not even sparing him a glance and then Grognak's empty expression transform into a genuine smile, his old plan went out the window. Grognak would tell you he hates you. Grognak would give you a five business day warning before he swallowed your soul whole. He'd tell you to your face that you're annoying, or you're ugly, or you're stupid. Grognak would steal your knife right in front of you and throw it with perfect precision at a grenade and then walk through the chaos he reaped without an apology or a backwards glance. But the Foundation… the Foundation was a constant chess game of hidden agendas, exhausting bureaucracy, and ruthlessly stabbing one another in the back to reach the top of a never-ending ladder.
Grognak wasn't aware of how horrible his actions were, as much as he may say he was. He just doesn't understand what he causes because if what he did to other people happened to him, he wouldn't care.
The Foundation is fully aware of just how cruel they are and how much they love lording over everyone else. Thomas was sick of it. It'd taken eight years and being wrongfully imprisoned, but he was Sick. Of. It.
Thomas knew that Grognak was not human, that he should stop applying human standards to him, but how? He looked so human, he acted human— okay he never acted human, bad example, but he doesn't turn into a demon, he doesn't have scales. What even makes someone human?
Shaking his head, he stopped himself. That train of thought would take him down a rabbit hole he did not have time for.
You know, he'd almost forgotten Grognak wasn't normal in his fear of the oncoming bomb. It wasn't until Grognak yelled down the hall after his frantically retreating form that his brain kick-started again.
His suspicions were confirmed with alarming accuracy when a bomb dropped right next to them, and they survived without a scratch. Other than the mental trauma of course. Trauma that came exploding out of him on their walk back to which Grognak once again didn't understand that his feelings were completely valid for what they'd been through and that they wouldn't just stop after his initial outburst. That Thomas didn't just speak them, but felt them.
The more time they spent together, and especially during their stint in the fucking tree, or sorry, Bertha, the clearer it became that Grognak might never understand. And that was, well it wasn't okay, but it wasn't that bad. He could deal with it. He would rather die than tell Grognak, but beneath the frustration he often felt, he also found himself secretly enjoying their bantering as if he was playing a game of wits with the devil.
He'd yet to find out what would happen when he lost, but so far, it didn't hurt that Grognak seemed to care more about Thomas' life than most of the other fuckers in this facility ever did.
And now here they were, with Grognak basically telling him that he's an honest to fucking God, well... God, and he suddenly has to reevaluate every single interaction they'd ever had.
How is it possible to even be that old? His mind couldn't even begin to visualize it. That many years is so— so absurd. The fact that Grognak is not more indifferent or less human is astonishing.
Grognak's got to be the strongest person he'd ever met.
Or the strongest... thing he'd ever met. He was there for the Big Bang, when the planet should not have even been habitable. He'd had to sit on an empty floating piece of rock, for millions and billions of years as nothing happened. He couldn't talk with anyone, make anything, do anything. For billions of years. Thomas can't imagine the boredom, the insanity that would foster. And yet Grognak's only slightly deranged.
Plus, he'd lived on a planet before this one. So he wasn't even a couple billion years old, but probably much more. Since time itself started! How long was that? How did he still function? Did he not long for death as Thomas sometimes did at just 36 years old? Thirty-six is nothing to Grognak and he understood, truly understood for the first time how Grognak can look at everyone around him and see nothing but petty little insects.
Even Frosty, as Grognak named him, who proclaimed himself to be immortal would never have a lifespan even approaching Grognak's.
The sheer loneliness Grognak must have felt in his life is unfathomable.
It was actually like looking at a whole new person. Before, he'd dismissed Grognak as someone who needed guidance. What else was he supposed to do around a psychopathic abomination who he assumed was going senile a bit earlier than one would expect for a man in his 50's? He'd just thought Grognak was like every other SCP, but dropped a couple times on the head as a child.
God, he'd gotten so mad when he found out Grognak had been playing computer games for ten minutes instead of working on their plan when they were in Bertha. But now… what's ten minutes to ten million?
Nothing.
The fact that Grognak could find even a passing enjoyment in playing silly games for children online would have brought him relief if he'd known then. He actually felt regretfor taking him away from it now. Taking away a pleasure Grognak had so rarely gotten to experience for most of his life. Just imagining him sitting there on an empty rock staring at space, is so heartbreaking he can't—
Thomas took a deep breath.
That's not to mention that the entirety of Thomas' existence, the way he looked, the way his parents looked, the way everything on the fucking planet looked, was all because one guy brought his planet's native organisms to a new planet and then sat on a rock, or lava, or whatever the planet was back then, for billions of years.
Billions.
Grognak isn't the alien, he's the only truly normal one. The one that remembers what the original planet humankind came from looked like. He was, in some ways, the direct descendant to every form of life on this planet. From the grass, to the ants, to the fucking dinosaurs.
Everything they were was a direct result of Grognak.
And he doesn't see how big of a deal it is, how absolutely mind melting this is, because he lived it.
But he'd also just said he's not a person, so are they all recreations of the lifeforms from Grognak's native planet or was humanity something new and Grognak just shifts his form to fit in? And what concept is he come to life? What does that mean? Like— like an idea gaining human form?
The closest analogy his brain could provide was the ancient Greek Gods (and isn't it weird that he didn't find them ancient anymore? Not with Grognak as a reference), who were Gods and Goddesses of beauty, war, and wine among others. But Grognak wasn't thegod of something... he just was that thing, somehow come to life.
It's no wonder SCP-049 can't kill him. How do you kill an idea?
He believed Grognak when he said they wouldn't be able to process what his true form looked like. He could hardly process just words, never mind the visual to go with it.
Thomas suddenly felt his life divide down two roads.
Option one: He forgets about Grognak, takes an amnestic and leaves the Foundation. Forgetting everything he'd learned for the past eight years. Everything about the SCP who murdered his family, everything he now knows about the universe, everything normal people would balk at.
Option two: He stays with Grognak for as long as he's allowed and learns secrets his puny brain couldn't come up with on its own even if he spent decades trying. Stay with Grognak and live a life no other human can say they've ever lived but potentially be murdered before the age of forty.
It really wasn't a choice. It never seemed to be with Grognak, but that's just part of his charm. And isn't that just a horrifying thought— that Grognak is, in any way, charming.
He shuddered.
But for all that Grognak lacked, which was admittedly a lot, he made up for in complete fuckery. Thomas had felt more fear in the past two days than he'd felt in years, but he'd also felt more amusement than he'd ever felt in his life. Even if he didn't necessarily show it. It's far more fun watching people react to Grognak's personal brand of bullshit rather than being the one forced to deal with it.
Yes, that's why he wanted to stay.
If a part of him deep down shouted out that he wanted to stay so Grognak wouldn't be alone for at least a couple decades like he'd been forced to be for billions, well… that was nobody's business but his own.
A/N
Quotes from Kevin's videos:
"THE POLICE ARE NOT LOOKING FOR US." Is from GTA V RP: The Bank Robbery Plan
"The only thing I'm guilty of is being innocent." Is from Star Wars RP but the empire has had enough shenanigans
"You should probably say something… make some shit up." and "Flint was a good man, a man who stood for most things that most people liked and stood against things that people didn't like…" he paused. "hear hear." Jim whispered back to Frosty, "I dunno, that's the most generic thing I can come up with." Is from GTA V RP but I ruin a funeral
As always thanks for reading! :)