Are We Cool Yet? [Complete!]

Standoff

Hello

I hope I didn't break anyone's heart beyond repair hehe (just kidding I probably can't write well enough to do that)

But I can, apparently, write an interesting and entertaining story! So that's nice!

Alpha's POV

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We've got all of Nine-Tailed Fox, and more besides, in formation. Waiting for me to give the orders.

I've been promoted to commander since the incident with 096-- especially since the old commander's dead.

So. Here we are, in front of the oily puddle that leads to the pocket dimension. We go in.

It's different than I thought it'd be, much different than the briefings. The floor is covered in old trinkets, broken keycards, and the tattered uniforms of 106's victims.

A worn pink blanket lies on the floor, forgotten. I poke it with the toe of my boot. If it is an anomaly, it's leaving us alone.

Crying. Desperate crying, bordering on a scream. If I'm not mistaken, something triggered 096. Which means it's not dead.

Damned creepy-ass bastard.

"There's at least one hostile skip out there. 035 And 049 might be lurking around as well. Keep your eyes out, keep your eyes down."

I'm going to lose most of my men. It's as likely I'll die as the next man. That's just the way it is. We keep doing our job.

I step out into a larger room. I see the creature's long, bony back, but I only have a second to take it in before I see the statue. "173! Three men to the front, watch it!"

"Yessir."

That grabs the attention of the other two. The possessive mask and... something else. A skip I don't recognize. It's face is pale and striking, with strange white stripes trailing along it's forehead and cheeks, and short curly black hair.

"The fuck is that?" I ask.

"I dunno."

"049. Jameson took its face--its mask off."

I tighten my grip on my gun, but don't move. The company behind me is still. The skips are frozen.

We're staring back at each other. Trusting my men to keep 173 at bay, I survey the scene.

If I'm not mistaken, 049 is in 035's lap. It's arms are around the possessive mask's host, it's head tucked under 035's chin. They're... they're cuddling?

And 096. Something is in it's lap.

My radio buzzes, and the skips flinch. I bring it to my ear and listen.

"SCP-106 has broken containment, I repeat SCP-106 has broken containment."

"It's right here," I say. "In the pocket dimension."

"Copy."

I clip it back onto my belt. "Skips!" I say. 096 presses the body of it's companion closer to it's chest. How strange. I've never seen a skip show any sort of empathy before. I'm sure this will make a fascinating study, if we survive it. "Come quietly. If you cooperate with us, we may let you see each other again."

An empty promise for the first two. Interviews together, at best. 173 And 096? Heck, they can't even talk.

"Stand up! Put your hands in the air."

Still, none of them move. 096 whimpers to itself.

There's a faint rumbling sound. Blood seems to seep up from the ground, the walls. 035 Is entering it's own sort of rage state.

"Ready your guns!"

Any moment now, it'll be sending it's many arms and tentacles to strangle and tear my men apart. I see some beginning to grow from the puddles of blood, ringing around the skips.

But that's not what I'm really worried about.

When 035 was triggered during interviews... it caused the lights to flicker out.

And then they do go out, for an instant, just as I raise my head to activate my night-vision goggles. It's too late.

Is this what if feels like for all those D-class? That rough, heavy, strangely warm stone gripping either side of their necks. My neck.

In that dark moment, I expect the pressure, the sharp snap, and then the deeper darkness of death. But instead an oddly sweet, lilting sort of voice floats up from behind me. "Your men must leave. Leave my family alone."

"One—one seven three?"

"It is me."

The blasted thing can talk? And it's talking to me. Maybe I don't have to die.

I swallow, hard. "Your family? You mean the other skips."

"Yes."

"You want us to go."

"Yes."

"And if we do, what are you going to do?"

I imagine the creature snapping my neck. It's still holding on, it feels as if it's grip is tightening. Oh God.

"You stay, I crunch. You go, no crunch."

"Then you'll let go of me?" I lift my hand, maybe to touch those deadly concrete arms, but stop halfway.

"Men must go first."

"Are you going to stay here? Are you going to try to escape? There's a reason we don't let you out there. You can't kill everyone."

Okay here comes the crunch here comes the crunch—

I'm still alive.

The creature replies. "I crunch to be free. I crunch to protect. We are looking for a place for us."

"Isn't that place here in the Foundation?"

"You killed our Larry. You tried to kill our Shy."

Who? Shy must be Shy Guy... and 106 calls itself Larry? Okay, okay, I've got to think. Keep the thing happy, keep it contained if possible.

"What if we promise to leave them alone?"

"Your promise means nothing. You are not kind."

"Neither are you, 173."

"I am what you made me. Now I want something else. I want family. If you will not call the men away, then you are my enemy."

The light flickers back, and the sculpture falls silent. My men stand around me. They say nothing. To them, I am a lost cause.

I am a lost cause. It's my duty to secure, to contain, to protect. We die in the dark so that others may live in the light. Today is my day. I knew it was coming.

So I take one last breath of the rank, decayed air, one last look at the trembling skips and trembling men.

"Contain the—"

Crunch!