SCP-Tale

Main Story 2 - Creation of Destruction

Apparently people don't seem to like Error being chained up.

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Fresh had gotten SCP-001-D out of containment again. He had lost track of Paperjam, and had been looking for him.

PJ wandered deeper into 001 territory. He wandered down the hall leading to where SCP-001-B was contained. He had been told countless times to never go there. But today, PJ felt overwhelmingly curious.

He soon came across the end of the hall and stared at the door. He frowned at the slot for an O5 Command Keycard.

Paperjam smiled to himself and placed his hand over the slot. The semi-solidified ink slipped into the lock and activated the door, allowing it to open.

PJ bounded happily into the room, his pure innocence and curiosity clear on his face. The small SCP skipped into the observation room to see that it was empty.

It was looking into a large room through thicker-and-tougher-than-hurricane-glass glass. There was a long counter all along the wall with glass. There were chairs. The rolling ones that PJ loves to spin around on.

PJ scrambled up on one of the chairs and saw a note. Most likely from the people who were watching over the SCP. PJ didn't look at the SCP, and instead read the note. It took a solid minute to read the three words, since SCP-001-D barely knew how to read English. It felt wrong to do so.

'Out for lunch.'

PJ shrugged to himself and set the note down. He glanced up at the SCP in containment curiously. A skeleton was chained by all limbs. By his ankles to the floor. On the ring around his wrist, two separate chains protruded. One set attached to the ceiling, and the other to the walls.

The figure was on his knees, apparently deep in thought. His arms were over his head, unable to pull them down. All he had on was a torn, blood-caked red t-shirt and dirty, torn, also very torn up and blood-caked black shorts. On his hands were odd metal 'gloves'.

PJ noticed a clipboard beside the note. He drew back from view and read it.

SCP-001-B
"Destruction"

Object Class: Thaumiel

There was a bucketful of information under it.

PJ felt an itch at the back of his mind. Fuzzy, too. He felt like he's seen this SCP before. Maybe in pictures? No....no, PJ knew that the two other 001s  were isolated. No pictures would have ever escaped. They're completely contained. The Foundation would never let pictures escape to the other SCPs. Certainly not to other 001s....right? PJ and Gradient were told that they were 'special' that way.

Then, PJ suddenly remembered something. He froze, his pupils shrinking into tiny pinpricks of light.

Paperjam and Gradient screamed and thrashed around in fear. They watched in sheer terror as their parents were taken away. The armed human men held them in place despite their protests. The humans in white pushed the needles into their necks and their vision blurred and got whiter.

PJ and Gradient cried, their struggles weaker now. They just wanted to explore with their parents, who were now being dragged out of sight. PJ and Gradient just wanted to have fun. To explore. To help them explore. They didn't mean for this to-

Then everything went blank.

PJ jolted back to awareness and drew in a sharp breath. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, startled. Where was he....?