Running With the Devil (SCP Fanfic)

Chapter 9: Eyes Without a Face

James wandered through a gray fog, he could only see as far as his nose. He kept moving, not knowing where he was heading.

As he walked, the fog had grown darker and darker until it was almost black. He saw in front of him a pitch-black silhouette.

As he kept approaching the figure, its height grew and grew until he was standing in front of it in the charcoal colored fog.

The tall, slender silhouette turned around, revealing two white pinprick eyes that seemed to glow as if they were mirrors reflecting a white light. He also saw two long knife shaped horns rise up into the dark fog.

"I told you," the figure spoke, "shesss a monster," the white eyes stared down at him.

The figure seemed to hear an answer from Jame's silence, "No? Why do you have faith in her? Ssshe hasss ssshown her true colorsss, no? Well, itsss a thought I give you. Time will tell."

James stared into the black formless abyss that was the figure.

The tall figure turned away from James, "Sssee you sssoon."

Jame's eyes opened. He was lying on the old bed. Malo was cuddled up next to him, pressing her warm fur against his body.

"The same voice..." he thought.

The rain was still pouring, and it was still dark outside. Jame's had his leather jacket over him in place of a blanket.

He stared at the ceiling, thinking, "something about these dreams... they must mean something," He reached for his backpack at the side of the bed and pulled out the black book.

He flipped to the beginning of the book, "I've read this before... in my dream, but how is that possible," it was the text about the fallen angel.

He flipped to the beginning, "History of..." he read. The rest was too faded to read.

"History? I remember what it said in my dream, "History of the Specially Annointed," but what does it all mean?" James closed the book, his head began to hurt.

James rested his head back on the bed. He looked at the ceiling, wondering the meaning of all his dreams and failing to put the pieces together.

An hour had passed, Malo yawned and opened her eyes, she was still cuddling James. He looked over, then quickly looked away, "You're still not wearing clothes?"

"Good morning to you, James. I don't need any clothes, my fur covers everything, and it's not like I have anything to wear," she pulled him in closer.

"Alright, whatever."

"James," she looked up, "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I didn't want to."

"It's alright, let's move on from it."

"Ok... but it wasn't alright..." she looked outside, moving on from the conversation, "I don't think we are going anywhere today. We're stuck here."

"Yeah, it seems that way," he looked outside, too.

Somewhere else, out of the dark night sky, a couple of crates dropped with red flares attached to them. They fell slowly being held up by a parachute. The wind swept them up, and they landed with a thud on the soaked grass of someone's front yard.

Hammer and the Rookie received a radio transmission, "the package has arrived!" The radio crackled in and out.

They looked up and saw the red dots through the stormy sky and drove over in a truck.

They tracked the crates to a house at the other end of the street from where the Commander had set up shop.

They exited the dry interior of the truck and entered the rain storm that battered their sides.

They walked up to the crates, "Rookie, do your thing."

The soldier, named Rookie, raised his hand towards the crate. It began to move on its own and soon began to levitate and place itself in the back of the truck.

The soldier named Hammer jumped into the bed and strapped the crate down, "two more left, and be careful with these."

Rookie and Hammer jumped back into their seats and headed for the next two, and before they knew it, they had arrived back at base with three crates loaded onto the truck.

Hammer and Rookie exited the truck, the Commander stood in front of it.

"Off load the containers, and crack them open under the tent," the Commander told them, and they did just that.

Under a tent in the middle of the street was the three green crates slick with water, the Commander pulled out one of the contents of them.

In his had was a rectangular box shaped device, it was painted gray and had "Proto-1" stamped on the side.

The Commander shifted the box around
in his hands, inspecting it, then he set it down on a table.

He took his helmet off and set it next to the device. He picked up the device again and attached it to the helmet in place of where his night vision goggles were.

"Now we should have no trouble seeing the beast," the Commander spoke to Hammer and Rookie.

"Get the rest of the men to attach these to their helmets. We're going to need them."

"Sir, yes, sir," they spoke in unison.

"Commander!" One of the tech specialists from the back of the armored vehicle had called him as he ran over, "We have been granted permission to pursue our leads on the whereabouts of SCP-1471-A!"

"Good. Once all our soldiers are fitted with the gear we just received, we will debrief them."

"Yes, sir!" The tech specialist ran back to his shelter.

In an abandoned factory, metal stomped against the floor echoing through the hollow brick building. water dripped from the tin metal roof. SCP-1010 had walked to this factory after her failed ambush on James and Malo.

"Fuck all this rain and mud!" She yelled, shaking her metallic hands of the mud.

"It'll take a while to clean this mess up and that means less time tracking the bitch down!"

"Ha ha ha!" She began began to laugh hysterically, "I can't stop! I have to kill her! But, why?" She drove her metal fist through a brick pillar, the question she couldn't answer.

She lowered her fist, "I just want to stop, I don't like hurting people, but the urge is insatiable and even if I could stop, I've reached the point where I can't be forgiven."

The lines of code coursing through her motherboard slowed to a steady stream, "I just want to be forgiven... I just want to know peace," her voice became full of static.

"But that won't happen."