[REDACTED] is a large, vaguely reptile-like creature of unknown origin. It appears to be extremely intelligent, and was observed to engage in complex communication with [REDACTED] during their limited time of exposure. [REDACTED] appears to have a hatred of all life, which has been expressed in several interviews during containment.
Narrator: "It's funny how a single lizard manages to break its containment seven whole times. You'd think people would figure out smarter ways to handle it by now. It really took the phrase 'seventh's time the charm' to the extreme."
"We are so sorry to bother you, sir. We understand that you have a very busy schedule, but as you can see, things are pretty bad at the moment…"
"Hah, don't worry about it. I was getting a little bored either way. And things are looking a lot more exciting here, so of course I'd show up!"
The young girl with greying hairs (must be natural, not dyed) laughed nervously at his words, while he responded in kind with a sharp laugh of his own. The other scientists and guards rushing down the corridor and going in the opposite direction stared at him with weirded-out looks, but he shrugged them off with the ease of the trickster that he is.
It must be quite the sight, though, for a relatively young-looking girl in a lab coat walking down a corridor of an obvious science facility with a dashing specimen such as himself, what with his burgundy long-coat and golden hair. Such was the stark contrast of colour of his being with the rest of his environment that he's probably easy (or painful, some of the scientists would say) on the eyes. He takes it all in stride, either way.
On a real note, though, everyone here sure is in a fuzz. From the very second he arrived, everyone were literally going everywhere looking like they'd all seen ghosts. Throwing ideas, figuring out combat tactics, yada yada… Well, he'll leave that to them. All that he's here for is to offer opinions and maybe assistance where necessary.
Although, it'd be nice to know what they're dealing with. The only thing he'd gotten was a notification from a friend of his who works here, saying that something managed to get out of its containment and was now loose. Not a very good thing, considering how this place's job is to keep things contained.
So, with all that information, it was obvious that the people working here were now scrambling to figure out some way to contain it before it does something very, very bad.
'But when it comes to SCPs, there's no knowing what it's possible of doing.'
In a perfect world, he might have never known about these things. Having seen the starts, ongoing moments and ending of the Great War, he'd been too occupied with a little too many things; keeping the peace, maintaining their relationship with the other factions, preserving his race and making sure war doesn't happen a second time.
After all, he wasn't just any fallen angel. He's the Azazel; great chief of the Fallen Angels. He'd earned his position thanks to his wit and his cunning. Able to see the bigger picture whenever necessary and plot the path for success, outmanoeuvre his enemies and set off the dominoes to produce whatever results he desired.
He was also really, really, really easily bored.
Maybe it's the duties and having to deal with so many old-fashioned folks all the time. Or it's simply the way he is. His secretary calls him a child. He calls it 'being productive'.
But yeah. With how bored he can get, he'd developed all kinds of hobbies to keep himself occupied, with his greatest fascination being Sacred Gears—unique weapons created by the Biblical God himself, passed down to humans to protect them. And now, SCPs are just part of that list.
Without going into the long of it, he'd had one accidental encounter with an SCP a pretty long time ago. And ever since then, he's gotten so deeply related with the organization out of sheer fascination that he's practically a CEO at this point. Hah! He should be asking for an office in this place!
"Quick question," he voiced out loud, gathering his little guide's attention. "What SCP went loose this time?"
"Ah… Forgive me, sir, but I'm not allowed to inform you ahead of time. Doctor Geoffrey Bright will be telling you himself."
He groaned at that. Seriously? Why couldn't they just tell him what it is already? It's an e-mail over a secured line, for crying out loud! It's one of the safest firewalls that's been tried and tested plenty of times, successfully keeping out all hackers and curious blokes. Is there a big need for secrecy?
Or perhaps it's something much worse than he could expect, and keeping him in the dark for now limited the chance that he might reveal it to another person. Highly unlikely, but he supposed he could let them have it for now.
That line of thought does evoke some amount of concern in him. Secure, Contain and Protect. Such is the mission of this organization that's been around for who-knows-how-long. And, well, if something's gotten loose, then they've got a real big problem on their hands.
"Doctor Geoffrey Bright is currently in a meeting with several other directors and council members," the young woman said, tucking some loose strands behind her ear. "I'd been instructed to take you here so that you could meet them and discuss with them."
"That so, eh? Well, I guess I'll get right to it. Thanks for bringing me here, then."
"And you have my thanks for your assistance. Not a single person here is ignorant of all your help throughout the years," she smiled. It seemed strained, but genuine. "I do wish we could offer you a little more hospitality, though, as befitting your station and contributions, but things are a little… chaotic, as you can tell."
The fallen angel waved her off with an easy smile. "Nah, don't worry about it. I'm just happy I get to help again. And you're probably busy too, yeah? Well, best you get moving, then. No need for you to stick around and entertain some old croak."
"Of course. Thank you, Sir Azazel."
With a formal bow and a swift pace, she marched down the opposite direction that they came from before making a turn, disappearing beyond the white corner. He watched her until she was gone before, with a deep inhale and sweeping his hair back, he pushed his way into the office.
Immediately, he was struck by a chemical smell that almost made him gagged. White walls formed a wide rectangular box, a long wooden table in the centre where countless men in white lab coats and suits sat at. It was illuminated by fluorescent lights, as was the majority of this facility, with potted plants in one corner and a projector hung on the ceiling displaying a picture of a the phalanx formation.
"…and that's why we need to focus on—Huh? Sir Azazel?"
"Yo," was his immediate response, immediately drawing all attention to himself. "Looks like y'all were already down in business."
"You could say that," the one sat at the very end of the table and closer to the projector nodded back. He was dressed in a dark blue shirt and trousers, a crinkly white coat overlying his figure and a pair of frameless glasses adorning his freckled, wrinkly face. His eyes and hair were brown as copper, his expression that of a tired man.
"Doctor," Azazel greeted with a smile, walking over to the man to shake his hand. "And everyone," the others all gave their own forms of greetings. He then took his seat beside the doctor. "I ain't bothering anything, am I?"
"Not at all. If anything, your presence is much appreciated," someone said.
"Most people would say otherwise in normal circumstances. This isn't exactly 'normal', is it?" His attempt at a jape seemed to have worked, since a few broke out chuckling, even if a little. "Seriously, with how everyone outside is, it feels as if they saw a ghost or something."
"Well, we are an organization keeping all kinds of things," Geoffrey commented. "If you really want a ghost, look no further than SCP-087."
"The staircase thingy?"
"We've sent four personnel down there to investigate the depths of SCP-087. Sufficed to say, each report included sightings of a humanoid face in the darkness that stalked them upon descending deep enough."
"Ahh… How many made it out alive?"
"The first and second," Azazel winced at that. Two out of four isn't exactly good numbers—"And the second went catatonic when he returned. We lost contact with the third, and I can't actually share any details on the fourth incident. Data was expunged."
"Ahh… Yeah, I guess that would suck."
"But compared to what just breached its containment, we've got a bigger issue on our hands," another personnel, seemingly an officer of sorts tasked with defence, sighed. "SCP-682 went loose recently."
"Six-eight-two? Let's see, which one is that? The sculpture? The doctor? The—" Someone spared him the guessing game by moving the slide to the next one. He turned in his seat to look at the picture, and his smile fell faster than he did from Heaven. "Ohhhh…"
"Yeeaah… You can see why we're in a lot of trouble now, yeah?"
"You mean everyone's in deep shit," he corrected, leaning forwards with a serious look. Such an expression was mirrored by everyone else at the table. Geoffrey was the worst of all, looking twenty years older because of his frown. "Of all the things you could have possibly let out of its captivity, it had to be the single most biologically advanced monster there is?"
"It wasn't our fault! It was a complete freak accident!"
"She's not wrong. From Ex-captain Eliot's accounts—he was the leader of Team G6. The only one survivor of his group, and the one to confront Six-eight-two—there was a bright flash of light mere moments before it was about to slaughter him. And then, SCP-682 disappeared."
"And you sure it ain't something that SCP-682 could do?"
"Not as far as has been documented," another doctor replied. "While SCP-682 has displayed countless abilities thus far, there hasn't been any reported incidents of teleportation. The most it has ever achieved is bodily contortion to the point that it can move in a mud-like conformation as well as producing wing-like limbs to grant flight. But nothing as advanced as complete spatial displacement…"
Judging by their shared expressions of disbelief and horror, there was no doubting the truth in his words. Azazel swept his hair back, eyes narrowed. "Which means that someone else warped SCP-682 out of the facility…"
"That's the likely conclusion. We don't have much evidence, and all the sensory devices that you invented for us couldn't detect any magical wavelengths. We can't determine who warped SCP-682 away, or where it was transported. We're in the pitch black here."
That's not good. Sorry, that was inaccurate; this was real bad shit.
In truth, Azazel wasn't too familiar with the beast. He'd only ever seen SCP-682 in its containment twice, and he'd read on its documents a few times here and there. The extensive experiments they'd conducted in order to kill it would have made a college professor green with envy, and though every attempt was just a failure in the end, that they'd tried at all and continue to do so spoke of persistence.
But it also spoke of the creature's absolute immortality, having averted death at every turn one way or another. Seriously, it has to be dunked in acid 24/7 just to keep more than half of its body deteriorated so that it can't do anything!
Azazel glanced upwards from where he'd been staring at the table, seeing nothing but absolute concern in his human friend's gaze. The others were in a similar state, trying to cook up an idea to track down the beast or a conjecture as to whom could benefit from freeing Six-eight-two. No one was getting anywhere like this, however.
He tried for a smile, reaching out a hand to pat his friend on the knee. "Don't worry about it too much," he said. Then, he focused his words on everyone else. "Think about it like this. It couldn't possibly be as bad as SCP-096."
Everyone's faces faltered at the mention of the 'Shy Guy'. "Urgh… I swear, we really need to kill that thing as soon as possible," someone groaned into their hands. "I mean, can you imagine? Just looking at the thing, and it will go literally anywhere to kill you. That happened once, you know. We had a convicted felon enter a bathysphere, look at pictures of it and make a sketch of it. Can't say it was near, but the creature practically breached containment like child's play and dived into the sea to murder the guy. There was no stopping it."
"Mmmm… Yep. That's bad."
"Horrendous, really. But yeah, I suppose it's time we focus our efforts on trying to locate and secure SCP-682."
"True that. And that's why I'm here, right?" He cocked a wider grin back at them. "Azazel, chieftain of the fallen angels himself. Our strength and technology is at your service."
And for all of their sakes, his included, he would be sure as hell that he'd be helping the organization as best as he could to catch that sucker once more. And it's a-must; a race against the clock now. After hearing all the stories told of its breach attempts, there was no denying its sheer danger to society. Allowing it to remain free any longer is going to have devastating consequences.
Not for the first time in his life, Azazel smiled for everyone else while he hid the bubbling unease deep in him. Seriously, who knows what the creature is doing out there in this very moment..?
This. Is. Awesome!
Grass was stampeded beneath the hasty pace of the creature as it darted between the trees, feeling the wind rush against its scales. Eventually, the green was broken through, replaced with the scenery of a clearing—and in the very middle of it was a large body of water, akin to a miniature lake of sorts. Flowers dressed the surroundings, adding colours of all kinds.
With a shrill cry, the beast known as SCP-682, nicknamed the 'Hard-to-Destroy Lizard' and easily the most dangerous creature (at least, based on what the scientists said, though it could agree with them on that one) in the world, did the unthinkable.
It leapt into a pond with the energy of an infant and the weight of a cannonball, splashing water everywhere.
From around it, animals were watching it with some amount of interest. Others opted to ignore the strange-looking crocodile and head off to do whatever their original plans were. A rare few approached it and leapt into the same pond.
And SCP-682 couldn't care, because this. Felt. Awesome.
This was all too different. All its life since the facility had kept it in captivity, its body had always been suspended in acid. Feeling the biting sting of the medium as its body was eaten away, leaving it practically incarcerated and unable to move or do anything.
But now? Practically free from the facility's overbearing and cruel experimentations? It felt alive. In fact, having dunked in this cooling and refreshing body of water was making all its happy hormone makers fire off like a machinegun. It just felt too excited, and there was nothing that ever felt better than this.
"Ahh…" Like an old man, it released a satisfied groan, lazily waddling its way through the small pond. "It is decided… This pond alone shall be my home from now on…" It was really small, and it had no doubt that it wouldn't be enough for it down the line. But right now? This is its personal haven.
Six-eight-two dunked its head underneath the water, taking a big gulp of the refreshing liquid and enjoying how cool it felt inside. It surfaced slowly after, in time to see a couple of frogs watching it with big, unblinking eyes. One of them croaked and hopped onto its head, before hopping off into the water with a little ploosh.
The supposed 'normal' inhabitants of this world, though one could agree that SCP-682's definition of normal was limited to SCPs and the like. Still, being in this place alongside all these little, harmless—and admittedly cute, for some of them—creatures was rather nice.
After spending half an hour in the pond (and SCP-682 had gotten exceptionally well of keeping track of time, often for the sake of planning its timing of breaches and predicting the task forces' mobilization times), the lizard stepped out and began shaking its body like a dog would, drying itself to an acceptable degree. The cooling air was a balm on its skin, and it sighed in delight once more.
"This is easily the single best thing to have ever happened thus far…"
Afterwards, SCP-682 began its trek through the forest. So much greener than the facility's bland greys and whites, and with so much more life to it that it's almost dizzying—but in a good way, certainly! All these natural scents, sensations and sights…
Perhaps a part of it should be afraid of being in new territory, but anywhere that isn't in the facility's reach was an instant win in its books. And with this being such a refreshing experience, it was keen on enjoying the moment for as long as possible.
Even so, it wasn't a fool to assume that the facility would just sit on their behinds and do nothing. Those people, who have access to unlimited funds and advanced technology, will spend every resource they have on hand to locate it and take it back to its containment. It was only a matter of time before they made their move.
Urgh… That would be a real pain to deal with. All it wants to do now is just laze away in this wondrous nirvana.
Actually, thinking about it now, it might need to start looking for food soon enough. The humans had thought it fitting to keep it suspended in acid and feed it none which, sure, it can certainly live without. But the thought of getting to eat properly now…
With ease, it generates a stomach within its thorax, deftly manipulating the totipotency of its stem cells to take on the properties of a gastric organ. Further biological changes were made to suitably adjust its digestive system, giving itself one akin to a ruminant's… actually, scratch that. Cows regurgitate their contents before digesting them again, right? Blergh. It'll go for a reptile's, then. It technically counts as one anyways.
Once the internal transformation was completed, it was wrought with a need to eat. Faint and not ravaging, but no less true. And that spurred the creature to wander the forest in search of meat—and only meat. It could easily adjust itself to consume cellulose, but screw that noise. Meat is where it's at.
It spoke of Six-eight-two's lack of familiarity with the natural world, but hey? At least now, it's got all the time in the world to learn.
With some luck and excellent hunting skills, it managed to nab itself two boars, a rabbit and a jungle fowl of sorts in half an hour's time. It hadn't even bothered for grace or whatever before it dug into its quarries. And it was practically addicted to the very real taste of meat that it sunk its teeth into, moving onto the next and leaving not even bones behind.
Freedom felt like a cold bath, and tasted like true succulent meat. This was the life.
By the time it had fed itself full, having hunted at least two more rabbits before choosing to stop (unlike humans, it knew how to control itself and not poach an entire habitat), the jungle was being drawn into darkness. The sun had long disappeared past the horizon, shadows creeping upon the canopies and obscuring its vision. Every corner and edge could have possibly hidden a lethal animal to the useless human, but to the indestructible being? Pfft. All it needed was a few adjustments and night vision was no longer an issue.
Nevertheless, as it continued to move in a direction, the creature regarded its environment with curiosity; this was a place that it had no knowledge of, and it wasn't well-acquainted with habitats and their residents to know which part of the world it had found itself in.
At best, it was someplace in… actually, never mind. It had literally no idea.
But the animals it sees from time to time are certainly peculiar. Blue birds, monkeys, brightly-coloured bugs and an assortment of other things that one couldn't envision without seeing for themselves. Tusked boars, cubs and other things were also prevalent.
It was a variety of colours, shapes and sizes that provides a richness to the life within this forest that SCP-682 can't help but feel drawn to. It was a stark contrast to the emptiness of the mountains that it manages to catch glimpses of during its successful breaches back then—and it knew which one it preferred.
Something comes to life. Unlike before, however, it doesn't tense up. Chemoreceptors hidden within its antenna detect intrinsic chemical processes in the air, and it turns its gaze upwards.
And the world lights up with a collection of bright, little glows.
Fireflies, its mind whispers. For a moment, it felt its breath stolen away by the beautiful sight, actually pausing to burn the image into its mind. Such a simple mechanism that these creatures are born with, and something that its own biology could replicate and improve, but it is this simplicity and naturalism that makes it even more magical.
And so, SCP-682 continues its journey onwards, seeking shelter beneath a massive, hollowed tree trunk situated next to a rather large sharp rock.
that also housed a couple exquisite birds. Some took off in surprise while others were too asleep to even care, and the beast opted to make as little noise to bother the little ones.
The tree trunk was spacious on the inside. It turned itself and lowered itself as close to the ground as possible, reversing itself so that most of its body and backside could be sheltered from the rain. Afterwards, it proceeded to lie its head down, chin touching the dirt.
The moist and cooling mud beneath its chin smelt rich and wet. It was a kind of scent that some might not have been capable of tolerating, but to SCP-682 who had only known the artificial smell of manmade concrete and antiseptic, this was so much better. It was natural, refreshing and quite honestly rather soft. A more comfortable mattress than a room of acid, for sure.
Something shifted in the corner of its vision. A family of rabbits, each one sporting bright red eyes that reflected the pale light. They watched him, and eventually, they too dropped low to sleep.
And SCP-682 opts to fall asleep, at peace for the first time in a very long time.
Now, the story remains this way for a very long time for the apocalyptic beast, so not much needs to be documented. Each day is but a repetition of the one before, with little changes but no less joyous for the creature.
Not like that would stop the others from asking it to tell stories of its time in its old home, much to its chagrin (and silent enjoyment, for the beast would somehow take on the role of 'honorary grandfather' of the house and have a fondness of telling stories all the time—and at times repeating them, though no one ever minds).
It should be noted that the day of its sudden escape coincides with the day that the human child ponders over the idea of getting a house pet with his friend and guest; a mere point to clarify should there be confusion in the minds of any.
And so, it would be many weeks of living in the forest and away from the facility's reach, which had done much to bring a sense of calm to its life. It is a cycle of moving from place to place, hunting, foraging and sleeping. And what might be seen as a strenuous routine to fall into is naught but a blessing to it. That is how it shall be for a very long time.
Ultimately, what could have possibly intertwined the lives of the biological behemoth and the child?
Many are those who theorize on what could have possibly transpired. The crackpots would call for countless conspiracies, while the faithful believe it to be by destiny's design. A rare few would say that the beast had always been the child's protector, returned to his side to fulfil its duty.
The truth, on the other hand, is a lot more fantastical yet simple—and equally ridiculous, much to the facility's collective headaches.
Morning came with a quiet breeze. It was cold, quiet and brought with it the faint scent of dew. In the far distance, the echoing of the monkeys' call and birds' chirping signal the beginning of the new day.
It shouldn't have been enough to rouse Six-eight-two from its slumber, but perhaps years of captivity had honed its sensitivity to just about anything in its presence. Thankfully, as millions of eyes shoot wide open to regard the area around it, it's quick to calm down upon realizing that there was no danger.
Perhaps someday, it would be able to grow out of this constant state of cautiousness. No idea if that would be possible, but it would be nice.
Allowing itself a few more minutes of hazy sleepiness and listening to the peaceful sounds around it, the beast slowly stretched itself, muscles twitching as its joints popped into place.
Satisfaction. This was the kind of feeling that would have felt more feral whenever it broke out of its containment and hunted down the humans, but this is… it's more relaxing. More calming. Certainly something it could get behind.
For a moment, SCP-682 paused to think about what its next choice of action should be… until it decided to do the equivalent of a shrug and go off for a stroll.
With all this freedom in the world, what was the use of worrying about what's next and whatnot? It had all the time in the world (literally, since it's practically immortal) to just do whatever it wanted, so might as well take things slow and enjoy whatever comes—just like that bright red fruit up in the tree.
Attention drawn to the bright fruit amongst the sea of greens, the creature easily generates clawed-like appendages on its feet to easily scale the tree's body, snatching the fruit with an extra limb before snapping down on it. Delight rushed through its mind as the sweet taste of the fruit melts upon its tastebuds. The crunching texture and sweet flesh was different to meat, but it proved itself no less worthy as a food.
Yes, yes, it did say that it would stick only to meat. But as it came to learn, being really picky ain't as easy at it hoped. And apparently, diversifying its diet a little bit isn't the worst thing in the world, so shush.
Consuming the entirety of the fruit, it opted to move once more. While most would probably settle for one spot alone, Six-eight-two had found the nomad's life to be a lot more fun, if only because it got to see new places all the time.
For the time being, though, it had decided to stick to the forest for now. Travelling between regions sounds like a guarantee to getting detected by the facility—damn them and their sophisticated technology. So, for that reason, it'll need to be cautious going forwards.
But again, it's in that phase of dancing across clouds and rainbows, despite how many weeks it's been. It could hardly give a pox about anything!
Slowly, it closed its many eyes and took in a deep breath, feeling the forest humidity fill its chest. Two seconds to pause, before it finally expelled the air with a sigh. What simplicity.
"A lovely day without stupid scientists and bothersome guards watching you every single hour of the day and trying to figure out ways to kill you…" It sighed happily. All eyes then opened, what felt like an excited smile forming upon its mouth. "Truly, an actual happy ever after! What could possibly go wrong?"
With but a happy hum and a pep in its step, the beast trotted off, unaware that it had committed one of the biggest mistakes ever known to mankind; jinxing life.
Clearly, SCP-682 hadn't learned its lessons about that. Perhaps it just never considered the happenstance of it doing exactly just that during its breaches, opting to make a mockery of sorts and end up re-contained. And yet, perhaps due to the excitement from its true escape, all that dopamine and endorphins have done their job to royally mess with its reasoning ability.
Of course, nothing strange happens right away. If anything, SCP-682 is able to go on with its day as per normal for the remainder of the day. Its journey takes it in random directions, simply basking in the simplicity of enjoying the natural world without much care for anything else.
There is a specific routine that it does take at times; namely, the need to find a waterhole and take a dunk in it. This is easily its favourite, the second being finding secret spots where it could simply laze about or discover fanciful flowers and fruits. Its taste for visual aesthetics may not be the most refined yet, considering its days living in a white-walled containment facility, but whatever it sees on a daily basis now is infinitely better than before.
Something to be said about enjoying one's day in peace is acquainted with the quick passage of time. Day quickly turns into night, and SCP-682 feels the lull of exhaustion—a completely foreign yet acceptable sensation, promising the reward of a brand new day and a fresh wake to enjoy the next day.
So, with renewed vigour, the creature begins to make its trek back to its previous sleeping location—
Only for a great burst of light to overwhelm its vision.
With the loss of the sun, it was completely dark out. Plus, being utterly relaxed and so unused to being under attack in any way, it left the beast completely taken aback, screeching in shock for the first time in so long. It reeled backwards, shutting all its eyes at once. Immediately, the scales covering its body hardened into carapaces and claws poked out of its extremities, bracing for any attack.
When the light eventually died down and nothing seemed to attack it, the creature tentatively peeked one eye open…
"Hmm. You, are quite big. Are you, a crocodile?"
Only to come face-to-face with a blank-faced girl with black hair and dressed in equal shades of colour.
Startled, it leapt back like an unwound spring, kicking up dirt and gravel in the process. Six-eight-two stared at her, hissing.
It did nothing to deter her. If anything, the girl simply blinked at it, staring it up and down with what was slowly becoming a curious expression. "Hmm. I, have never seen a crocodile with this many eyes, however. Fascinating."
A mere crocodile couldn't possibly compare to it. And yet, it had to give her credit; her lack of fear despite faced with it was completely new. Even the hardiest men that it had stared down during its days in the facility cowered in the end; quaked in their boots as they awaited their deaths.
It huffed. Something about her was not normal, and it wasn't sure what.
"Who…" It snarled. Her eyes widened at that. "Are you?"
"You, can speak? Now that, is rather strange."
"Speak, human, or I will strike you where you stand."
"That, would do very little to help you, but very well. I am Ophis," the girl introduced herself. "And you?"
"What use is knowing?"
"You, are clearly a being of intelligence, so you must have an identity. And, it is rude not to introduce yourself when another person has."
Hmph. The concept of human courtesy shouldn't apply to it, but it relented either way. "…SCP-682."
"Es-see-pee Six-eight-two? What an odd name." So she isn't aware of the existence of SCPs. Strange. Could she be one as well, and she just doesn't know? It couldn't smell anything strange from her, and it wasn't feeling anything. "Nevertheless, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"The same cannot be said for myself," it hissed back, lowering its body. "What do you want?"
She looked at it in the eyes and spoke. "I, am here to look for a pet to bring back."
So serious and so unexpected was her answer that SCO-682 practically froze in its place, blinking dumbly. "What?"
"I, am looking for a pet," she repeated. It almost thought it was going mad until she chose to elaborate. "Issei, wishes to have one, but Uncle and Aunty might be against it. Even so, I, would like to try and find something for him."
She… That's just—It couldn't believe it. And yet, for how her face remained neutral and posed not even a quirk of the lips or whatever indicated that she was completely serious about what she said.
"And you, would make for a poor pet. Too large. You will need, a lot of food," the creature bristled at that. True, but completely uncalled for to point out. "Hmm. Perhaps a bird, or a kitty cat."
And she was now completely ignoring it, choosing to look around the place instead. SCP-682 practically had its mouth agape as it watched her, both for the fact that it was being ignored and the fact that this entity had come all the way here just to find a pet animal.
"Hello? Any animal worthy, of being a household animal?"
She really is just—What in the world is going on?
Completely dropping its guard, the creature raised its head and scanned its surroundings, trying to figure out from which direction this little one had come from. Had she somehow strayed away from her clan? Then again, for how long it had stayed in these forests, it hadn't come across any form of human settlement.
Had she come from that burst of light? That would be ridiculous. She was just a human. And humans aren't technologically advanced enough to achieve that sort of capability. It must have been a coincidence.
"Six-eight-two," the creature perked up at its name being called. "What, would make a good house pet?"
Initially confused by the question, rage quickly surged back as it hissed back. "Like I would care about that. All you humans ever care to do is satisfy your wants without considering anything else."
"Perhaps," she agreed. "But, I think it is fine."
"Of course you would say that. You're a human being, after all."
"I'm… Yes, I suppose I am," Ophis hummed. She supposed that she is? "But, going back to what I was saying, I believe it is fine to have desires. After all, without them, humans would have no motivation to do anything."
"But is such an excuse suitable enough to warrant pointless stupidity?" This time, the girl stopped to look at it. SCP-682 hissed. "All your kind ever does is feed its endless hunger and greed. And when you're terrified of something, you find someway to kill or enslave it. Such behaviour guarantees your downfall in the years to come."
One might have called it a personal opinion, and Six-eight-two wouldn't think to deny it. After all, had it not been a victim of imprisonment for decades? Experimented upon and drowned in acid simply because it was 'too dangerous' to leave alive. That it would kill the humans if ever set loose.
And it would have. And it will.
But this beautiful freedom in a world so unblemished and with no humans in sight… Well, it isn't exactly causing any issues, is it?
They'd never thought to try. Try and give it this opportunity. Give it this taste of peace.
…Then again, maybe it would have tried killing them, but hey? It's just returning the favour.
"You, speak as if you've experienced such injustice. Is that true?"
SCP-682 scoffed, whipping its head away. "Like I need to answer that."
"Hmm. I see," and then, she looked in a specific direction. "Also, it seems that we are under attack."
"Huh? What are you—"
Click. The beast sensed them long before the first projectile struck it. With heightened reaction speed and biological adaptability that exceeded any living being, Six-eight-two doesn't even need to think before it hardens its body—an instinctual reflex that comes just in time to catch an explosion to the side.
Pain speared through its being like an electric shock, causing it to scream out. The heat and light slowly washed away, casting it in darkness once more. However, Six-eight-two was now on full alert, turning in the direction of its assailant. With a growl, its layer of shells was substituted for a lighter yet no-less durable material. From its head, feelers sprout outwards, and the muscles in its body mutate to give it more mass, giving a significant enlargement to its overall body.
"Ah, shit. Thought I had that one."
"Naw, I think you got it in one. It's just the monster that was a little faster on the trigger."
Humans? Foliage all around it rustled as men and women dressed in strange black garbs showed themselves. A few of them had greens and browns splotched upon themselves as a means of camouflage, but that was the least interesting part. If anything, it was the glimmer of light in their hands, dancing on their palms like some sort of sentient fluorescent entity.
SCP-682 bristled, glaring silently at Ophis. However, despite her lack of expression, it could tell that she knew not whom they were, for she watched them with a quiet kind of wariness that indicated she wasn't part of them. Just great. And here it thought she had baited it for them to attack it.
One of them whistled, looking the beast up and down. "Well I'll be. That's the strangest thing I've ever seen thus far. Look at those scales… shells?"
"A unique one, for certain," a sultry voice said. She whipped her auburn hair back, not hiding the smile on her face. "Can't even begin to imagine how much it would sell on the market."
"Enough to keep us afloat for years. Hell, I'd say decades!"
Poachers of sorts? Damn it. Of all the things to have disturbed its peace here and now, it had to be humans (and though Ophis counted as one, it hadn't found any concrete reason to dislike her presence just yet, so it chose to ignore her). Like it hadn't gotten enough of them before this.
"Hmm?" One of them looked at Ophis. "Oh, there's a little girl here. Where you from, little miss?"
"I, am from home."
"Pfft, looks like someone's got a sense of humour," his jest got the others to chuckle along. A total of sixteen men and women, all with that strength light power thing. "Well, a little girl doesn't sell as much, but I'm sure someone could use a new pair of kidneys. Mary," he spoke to a greenette. "Nab her, will ya'? Everyone else, focus on the lizard."
Pure vitriol filled its veins, its vision red. So they think just a measly number of them were enough to incapacitate it? The arrogance! Whole armies were needed just to recapture it every time it broke its containment!
And it had fought and bled and clawed its way through artillery fire, machinegun, bombs, poison and fire to get to where it is today. If they think they could simply take it away from its newfound home…
"Looks like we are surrounded," Ophis commented. "Six-eight-two, would you like to—" The girl's voice was drowned out in the sounds of its heartbeat. She quickly turned her gaze to the monster, and her eyes widened. "Oh."
Like clockwork slotting into place, SCP-682's body contorted as it suddenly grew in mass, easily putting to shame its initial growth by greater levels. It was but a twice of its initial size. And then by four times, and ultimately by ten. Muscles were hypertrophied, swollen and pulsating. Steam escaped its teeth each time it breathed, heat quickly building in relation to its size, and that alone allowed heat to wash over their surroundings.
SCP-682 was not just a mere anomaly. It was a king of beasts. A monster unlike any other. And it would not bow down to an inferior race.
In fact, the others here must have realized that as well, for they looked upon its titan-sized stature with horror. Some were already scrambling to ready a spell or a weapon, but it would be useless.
They had chosen to die. If a grim reaper doesn't exist, then it may as well play that role.
"Come then, insects. If you think you have what it takes to best me… Then go ahead and die trying!"
And then, without mercy, it dove in for the kill.
The doorbell rings. The show on the television isn't successful in keeping his eyes glued to it, for his head immediately swivels in the direction of the door with anticipation.
"Issei, there's a package outside," his mom said from where she was wiping down the dining table. "Can you grab it for a quick bit?"
A package? Issei practically went taut in excitement. "Oooh! What is it?"
"That's a secret!"
Issei went 'Aww!' but knew that he'd find out if he brought it inside—he'd always enjoyed opening up stuff, like packages and boxes, to find out what was inside. Sometimes, it'd be a cool toy, or an electrical appliance, or a gardening tool his mom would need. Pretty cool.
Without wasting a moment, Issei stepped off the couch, Ophis muttering a soft 'be quick'. He went over to check outside through a window, sighing in relief. Judging by the lack of clouds, there shouldn't be any rain tonight (it had been rather heavy the night prior). It's already night, so the air is pretty chilly. Getting caught sopping wet at the same time didn't really sound fun.
Putting on a pair of slippers, Issei stepped outside of the house, shuddering a little from how cold it was outside. The street, devoid of people yet filled with muted noise coming from the other houses, was lit up with warm glows of yellows. It was a typical sight that he'd seen plenty of times, yet it evokes that feeling of 'ooh, this looks pretty' in him all the same.
Actually, now that he thought about it, he sure can't wait for winter to come around. Once the snow hits and the streetlights are turned on, the sights would be even more amazing. And more fun to play in the snow! He'd definitely need to get Ophis to join him too (though he has a feeling that it might be difficult, considering how she behaves almost similarly to a sleepy house cat eighty percent of the time).
Eyes scanning across his dark surroundings, he spotted a parcel sitting on the wall beside the front metal gate. Darn. That looks a little too tall for him to reach…
'But I'm nothing if not stubborn, and no dumb wall can stop me!'
He marches over to the wall, staring up and trying to measure the approximate height in relation to his own (he ain't tall yet, but he'll get there someday). The realization that the package was within his reach fills him with determination. And that's enough for him to attempt to reach for it by jumping upwards, arm outstretched.
His fingers tap against the edge with each jump, and though most people would be dissuaded after a couple of tries due to laziness or because they make no progress, Issei was only spurred to keep trying. Grunting, he tenses his legs and leaps even higher to pull the parcel closer to the edge—
A bright flash went off in the distance draws his gaze to the left, to where the neighbourhood park is located. It died just as quickly as it had come, leaving the world in relative darkness once more.
"Whoa, that was bright," he said. And then, he shrugged. "Oh well. Probably a blown fuse or something."
He retrieved the package, taking a moment to turn it around in his hands. He then tried to sniff it, then listening closely as he gently shook it to figure out whatever was inside. When he got nothing, he decided that he may as well find out by giving it to his mom already.
Just before he could enter the house, however, a loud growl filled the air. The boy froze up, chocolate eyes going wide as his head snapped backwards.
"Eh?" Blinking, he looked left and right to find the source of the sound. "Uhh. Hello? Is anyone out there?"
No one answered. And whatever made that sound didn't bother to make the same sound.
What the heck was that?
After a while, he decided to just ignore it. With package in hand, he was ready to go back inside.
"Issei."
"Hmm? Eh, Ophis?"
It was to the sight of his raven-haired friend that he found himself staring at when he turned his head away from the front door. She was standing on the other side of the iron gate, ever present with that blank expression of hers.
"Wait, when'd you even go out?" He looked left and right. "I think you went to the bathroom."
"I did, although it was for a short moment," she said. "I, brought someone."
"Someone? Who do you—"
The answer to his question was a thump, thump, thump. The ground shook with each movement, but the steps grew lighter soon enough, and Issei's lower jaw dropped when he laid eyes on the beast that towered behind his best friend.
Standing in all of its glory was a strange hairy lizard with a lot more eyes than he'd ever seen on any existing animal. It smelt of the forest, reminding him of the times he and his parents used to take walks in some forest parks to enjoy the sights and calming ambiance.
Also, for some reason, the thing was glaring at Ophis. Like, a lot. And he didn't even know crocodiles could glare to begin with!
"This, is Six-eight-two. It, owes me a favour, and I wanted you to meet it."
"Uhh," he blinked, switching from looking at Ophis to the lizard with the numbers for name. "Nice to meet you?"
"The same… cannot be said for me…" It hissed slowly, surprising him with the ability of speech.
"It, is a little grumpy, isn't it?" She commented, making the lizard bristle. That's one way to put it.
Issei took one last look at the massive crocodile thing—and came to the conclusion that there were just no other animals like it. That it could talk at all indicated that it was something clearly different, and with how it was capable of emotion and opinion as it was…
Well, this night is a weird one.
Author's Notes:
Not too happy with this particular chapter, but I chalk it up to having been away from writing for so long. I'll get back into the groove soon enough.
I always love the concept of such a dangerous person or monster being relatively sweet towards someone that they like. Several works under the 'Tales Edition' which you can find in the official SCP website actually explored this very concept with SCP-682. Absolutely loved Lizzy the Big Weird Dog and The Lucky Dinosaur.
Also, huge apologies that it took me so long to update. I'd taken two weeks off from writing stories and playing games to prepare for my last exams of my first year (now into my second year of my bachelor's degree) and am currently having a whole month of break. Gonna' enter my third week of break. You can imagine what I'd been doing—gaming and sleeping. Catching up on that has been nice.
But yeah, back to writing I am, and it sure as hell feels nice now that I've got a new laptop, of which its screen is not constantly glitching out and has four times the storage. And it has VPN! God damn does this feel great.