AUTHORS NOTE: well... its 2020... and we're back here again... because one guy messaged me about this fic, thanks dude, you have my respect, I dont know how you found this thing but byyy golly you did.
FIRST OF ALL, i want to add a disclamer! i am MUCH BETTER at writing now, this fic represents my skill level several long... long years ago... i don't remember when I posted it, but i wrote it about... 8 years ago, maybe more. SECOND OF ALL, I've been in and out of SCP stuff for a while, so if anything big has happened that changes the lore, i will probably have missed it. which leads me to my THIRD point, i will be posting the chapters that i wrote all that time ago and salvaging what was lost to connect them, but mostly it will be my very old writing that I've dusted off and fixed up a little.
One last thing, if you leave a comment, i will be forever in your debt. If i know people are enjoying this besides me, I may even continue from where i left off. I have unwriten plans pretaning to everyones favorite lizard... this story is actually way longer than i remembered, i got in deep HA XD.
Now, where were we... oh yes, 106... Enjoy.
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The withered old man walked slowly towards the door to the test chamber, apparently unable to move any faster. A slow, unrelenting march. As it headed towards the containment chamber, Ian couldn't help but… look at it.
It looked, for all intents and purposes, like an old man. Especially the eyes, which seemed to stick out in the darkness. They held a glint which one might foolishly mistake for life. But there was no way that it was among the living.
It was rotten. Its decomposition was so stagnant, it looked like it had pulled itself from a bog or a tar pit. The corpse wasn't particularly agile, as it practically stumbled forward. Even while it swayed and scuffed its feet, its eyes stayed unwaveringly locked on Ian. That look alone was enough to make Ian want to cry. And it was dripping. Like… the hole in the wall behind it… which was getting bigger as the anthropomorphic creep moved ever closer.
Ian was not the kind of man to make verbal exclamations, in any given situation... However, right now… "Where do you people get these things!?" He looked away from the old man for the briefest of seconds as he yelled at the soldier who was still scrambling around on the floor.
Then it stopped, several meters from Ian and the door, and inclined its head to the side slightly. There was a pitiful squeak from behind him. "What are you doing? Close the doo-AHH!" the novice soldier was flung, with comic elasticity, across the floor, rolling into a ball, with the kind of expression which said 'all hope is lost'.
Before Ian could turn around to see what the painful clattering behind him was, he was pulled roughly from behind and landed near him, after flying through the air for several meters. His arms were sprawled out and his leg crumpled up underneath him. Following a particularly loud crack, Ian found he lost all interest in what was happening around him. A dull throbbing in the back of his skull manifested. That couldn't be good. He became dazed. His vision blurred. His movement was heavy where he could manage it at all. The noises in the room became almost indistinguishable. There was banging, scrapping, screaming. He feared the worst, but only for a second. Then he was too unconscious to be afraid anymore.
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Eventually becoming conscious again, Ian could make out one thing.
He was alive... probably. He was still mulling it over, thoughts and ears ringing. But he was more or less sure that he was probably alive... judging by the fact that it felt like someone had stuck a drill into his left temple. Dead people don't feel pain, right? He opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear away his slurred vision. Needless to say, this failed.
Ian was very disoriented, but he could tell the he was on his back... or at least there was something solid against his back, for all he knew he could be up-side-down. He wouldn't be able to tell. He tried to move his hand. He had the strange feeling that it wasn't actually his hand which had flopped into his slowly steadying vision, but at that moment he noticed a few things:
1. It made the throbbing in his skull more intense but less painful.
2. There was also a tightness around his temples and forehead.
3. his hair was uncomfortable around the back of his head.
The Scot groaned as a black blurry blob hovered into his vision, somewhat soothing his headache by dimming the lights. He put his hand over his eyes and rubbed both his temples between his thumb and fingers as the feeling returned to them.
"…Can you hear me?" Ian's brain seemed to finally be booting up again. Nodding would have been his first choice of response, but his neck was stiff and sore. So he settled for a groggy "uhuh."
Which came out more like "…uuuuuhh…"
His vision was now somewhat legible to his addled brain and he could see some blond person, looking down at him. He had blue eyes that seemed to twinkle in the bright light of the room. Ian was pretty sure that was because he had been crying though… like a big baby… How the hell had some little kid gotten into this creepy labyrinth of death and chemical induced night terrors? he shook his head… taking a moment to ajust to the fact that name calling had no place in this moment, even if he was hurt… and Scottish.
The room was darker when he looked up again. Looming over both Ian and the boy was 173, wearing what could be construed as a smile on its concrete face. He scrunched his face up in pain and confusion, before trying to smile back without grimacing. Ian could tell his senses where returning when the he was graced with another stupid and random internal comment on the situation. How come the cry baby and the rejected doctor who villain where standing near each other and neither one was in tears? This was followed by a more relevant thought. Why on earth was he in a heap on the ground anyway?
"What... happened...?" he asked quietly, as his lips still felt a little disengaged from his face. He looked at the kid. He began grinning down at Ian. Maybe he had hit his head too. Perhaps multiple times.
"I have NO idea!" the young man replied in a cheery voice, still grinning. Ian silently voiced his confusion by lifting his left eyebrow, while his right hand covered his forehead like a make-shift sun hat. Thankful his fellow human being got the message.
"Oh. OK umm... well... after I had... ehh... made a ... tactical retreat into the, ehh.. safe zone, away from SCP-106..." Ian raised his eyebrow further, which caused the blond to smile, nervously, and with a small amount of guilt. He clearing his throat and continued in what Ian's now fully functioning brain recognised as the voice of a 20-something year old. He might have been younger, it was hard to tell. He probably was, it was rather high for a young man like him.
"Anyway" the boy rubbed the back of his head, distractedly "during the commotion, SCP-173 was allowed to move, when I was… repositioning. The SCP moved me further into the room, then pushed you away from the SCP-106 which…" the kids eyebrows creased together in concern. "it appeared to have stopped approaching. SCP-1- ehh, the statue" ian concurred with the change in name here. All this 'SCP' stuff was confusing him, but that might just have been the concussion. Thankfully, the newcomer also dropped the super serious mannerisms too. "…It then… shut the door, and held it closed. And I relocked the door," In his gloved hand he held a piece of bent wire above Ian. "using this." the Scot reached up and took his lock-pick from the boy. "At least he was paying attention." Ian thought "Even if he was cowering on the floor."
He let his hand drop to the ground beside him. "You're a soldier?" Ian finally realised, after the penny, which apparently had wings, finally dropped. He lowered his hand from his face as the young squaddies face stretched in surprise. "uhh, yeah." He sounded a little proud of himself. "But I'm relatively new." And the guilty smile returned.
Ian couldn't help but be endeared by this guy, he just seemed too little and soft to be a soldier, yet here he was. He smirked a little, and gave a soft breath as a substitute for a chuckle "What happened after that?" The scot after a short pause.
"Well, it went away after a while. Then... well...*sigh*..." exasperated shame pushed itself over the young soldiers face and leaked into his voice. "I spent the next few minutes curled up in the corner, crying and staring at SCP-173..." The Soldier looked away awkwardly and Ian gave a look of surprise. The private looked back "What!? I've only had this job for three weeks and I've been attacked TWICE! And it was from behind both times!" he shook his hands around to emphasise his point
"In a place like this, anyone else with a record like that would be dead! I should be dead!" his arms dropped quickly, thanks to the weight of his armour plating, he looked away and muttered "I must have a guardian angel or something..."
This guy really was terribly endearing. He was like a little puppy who kept tripping over its own feet trying to keep up with his master. Easing himself up slowly, Ian put his hand on the boys back. He smiled sweetly, and honestly for the first time in a while. "What's your name?" The private glanced over to the brunet, and sighed again, although he seemed to have perked up again, if only a little. "Mitchell. Brandon Mitchell."
Ian's smile widened and he pushed himself into a sitting position, moving his free hand to gently rub his stiff neck. "Well Brandon. Not many people could have kept going after going through what you have." The kid turned around to look at Ian "Hmm? What do you mean?" rolling his head in a circle slowly, Ian continued "id be willing to bet that most other people would have taken the easy way out and let 173 kill them." Now ian was looking straight into the soldiers eyes. "there are harder things to do than dying."
Brandon held Ian's gaze as it dropped, almost imperceptibly, before looked away again "Yeah your right" The boy replied. "After a while... I did give up. I close my eyes… an' I hoped it would be quick..."
It was then he wiped his head up to look at the D-class. "But it didn't kill me! Why not! I mean... I'm glad it didn't, but why!?" He stopped, looking up at the statue before turning back to Ian. "It even fixed up my injuries, look!" He showed Ian his right upper arm, which had been wrapped in orange fabric. The surrounding area was melted like the wall outside had been, after 106 had appeared. Ian recognised the fabric and looked down at his left ankle "huh." He exclaimed quietly. "I wondered why my leg felt cold" His left trouser leg was missing 4 or 5 inches off it.
He looked mock accusingly at Brendon who held his hands up in defence. "Don't worry I've already paid you back for it." He said' gesturing at the bandages on Ian's head. "You got hit pretty hard. You were out for 30 minutes." Ian gave Private Mitchell a "fair enough" look and put his hand on his still slightly sore head. "It's good you woke up so soon I think he was getting worried" The private inclined his head towards 173 and provided a quick point up at it. "When you said you had the SCP under control, I thought you'd tied it up, …or at least pushed it over… But this!" He looked back up at 173 "I swear, if the big guys don't hire you, I'll be amazed!" Brandon chuckled heartily, honestly hoping that they wouldn't just shoot this guy for tampering with an SCP.
Ian pondered the statement for a moment "Beats siting in that cell all day" Brandon's laughter was renewed, and Ian smiled at that. He closed his eyes and looked in 173 general direction, giving it a toothy grin to show he wasn't trying to ignore it. the grin dulled a little when Ian realised "I don't really know what I did." All he had done was be reckless and extremely lucky, nothing more. He had shown compassion, which seemed to be somewhat lacking around here, and he had been brave, but adrenaline make you feel brave when your actually terrified. Distracted by his thoughts, Ian's smile started to slip away.
The blond, however, smirked playfully. "I guess we both must have guardian angels then huh? Or maybe you are just something else... Emm..." again, his face was graced with a guilty smile "Sorry, I didn't catch your name." Brandon's soft voice brought Ian back from his thoughts. He looked back towards his companion with his eyes still closed, and delivered another small smile to him. "It's Ian Kyles." Ian held out his hand as he was unable to see if Brandon was already holding out his. The young soldier took it gently, closing his eyes as he grinned. "It's a pleasure to meet you Ian."
Finally, the third party in the conversation got to nose in on things. The statue roughly shook his new friends' shoulder, which cause Brandon no small amount of shock, and released a hilarious yelp from the poor traumatised boy. Ian only chuckled, in an attempt to lessen the other humans fear. After a few moments of ruffling, Ian assumed the soldier taken 173 hand, as he had with the brunet, when he replied with "i-it's nice to meet you to, big guy!" nervous laughs slowly faded into genuine pleasure. "Thanks for not breaking my neck or anything!"
