[ PROLOGUE: ALEXANDER WINCHESTER AND THE CONTAINMENT GALLERY SYSTEM, IN ACTION ]
[ WARNING: SCP NO. 957 BAITING IS AGGRAVATED BY PLAYER NO. 1's PRESENCE, PLEASE SURVIVE ]
[ "Do you think I don't know that!?" ] The panicked Alexander yelled out loud, sweat dripping on the dilapidated floor as he ran from one corridor to another. [ "Where's the fucking exit!" ]
Panicked he stopped mid-way some corridor, looking left-to-right, right-to-left for the way out. You see he has been running for about 5 minutes now without stopping and he doesn't even know if there's an end... Or where his going, he just wants to get out.
This mansion that he is in, is a spacious one. He could be seen looking at his left that leads to a gigantic dining room, to his front that leads to more corridors, then to his right that seemingly leads to a painting room.
This building in Kentucky, America, reminds him of a noble mansion that spans from miles-to-miles. It's just that, it's abandoned and hasn't been taken care of that long, which leads to this state wherein there is more dust on the building than clean air particles. [ "S-shit!" ]
He panicked even more, sweat dropping on the floor as he coughed slightly. Looking behind him he could hear the thumping of feet, then a wail or some sorts.
Definitely not human, and is definitely a stone-cold monster; that is SCP-957, and if it catches up to him, he'll die. Like the numerous times before, in other circumstances.
Deciding on not wanting to die, especially because he has just only recently gotten out of his own personal hell. Alexander decides to continue running and this time, he ran to his left, without even looking back— because if he did, then he would have seen it, and it in return would have seen him...
Half a minute passes by, as the fleeting footsteps of Alexander pass and he finds another place to hide. The midsection that he was in earlier is being investigated by the monster; a pale white distorted monster that looks like it came out of a Russian Experiment... And not a so-so good one at that.
[ SCP-957 BAITING LVL. 25 ]
The monster stands at a whooping 7 somewhere feet tall, lanky in appearance it lacks muscles, or seemingly any sorts of fats. The monster's entire body, hairless, not a single thing coming out except blood from its open ventral torso that pulses in each second— open with seemingly no organs inside.
Smiling widely, to the point that all of its yellowish morbid teeth are showing. It looks from right-to-left, left-to-right wanting to find any trace of the intruder that soured its mood...
The eyes of the monster open wide, gold tinted without iris, it not needing a single second to blink as it tries to find the intruder. Perhaps to take care of it, like a family, or as an ingredient for his current family at the moment; or if it sees the material as sub-par, then it might just burn it in a fireplace nearby.
Not knowing where the intruder went by, it annoyed spoke gibberish to itself before moving on. This time, running wildly to the corridor in front of it, in hopes to find the intruder.
Arms flailing slightly behind it, as it then disappears into the shadows. Not realizing the fact, that Alexander the so-called reluctant intruder is hiding somewhere else...
Somewhere though the monster isn't present at, still is considered a dangerous place; [ "W-what the hell...?" ] As in the seemingly spacious dining room, reminiscence of those aristocrat movies that he oftentimes sees in scrolling.
Alexander watches carefully on one unique thing in this room... Aside from the dust on the floor, decrepit materials surrounding him, and the stench of this place. He would be able to see one thing, and that is another live human being.
[ "G-george is that you?" ]
[ "I-I thought it was dinner time, where are you?" ]
[ "..." ]
Not a normal one.
He mouths to himself curse words as he tries to steady his breathing, his head craning on the side to look at the sickly pale dark shade wearing man, seemingly a poorer copy of the SCP-957 monster, except that this one doesn't seem to have any bloodlust towards him.
[ SCP-957-1 ANTHONY MORRIS C. BURR LVL. 6 ]
Actually, it looks like this SCP-957-1 doesn't seem to be able to see a thing at all. As it tries to sense anyone around it, akin to that of a blind man; which explains the dark shades, and the walking stick nearby. But those don't explain the fact that this monster looks like that, is this one... Sick?
Wanting to ask, he stopped. He experienced and personally met some pale-looking people before, and they also have -1 in their names, floating above their head. In that Infinite IKEA Store wherein those seemingly monsters uniform wearing men ganged up on him, tearing him into shreds when the lights disappeared...
A painful experience he wouldn't forget, especially because it was his first-first death after going into White Hell... With numerous others to come.
But unlike that IKEA men example, this one seemingly has a name in front aside from the unique designated number that the System in his head gave to it. Of course, this floating hologram is only visible to him; with it helping him throughout his journey.
Seeing that the man isn't hostile, Alexander was about to ask something but paused midway when he noticed the shades of the man fall slightly. Not enough for it to fall entirely.
But enough for Alexander to notice that the man doesn't have any eyes at all— he looked closely in horror, and spotted that the man doesn't have any blood or anything except for a pale sick skin behind where his supposed eyes should be. [ "..." ]
Forcing his mouth shut, Alexander moves quietly in the dining hall, not wanting to alert this instance of monster, and also wanting to find for himself a way out of here, if not then a place to hide from that much angrier instance of SCP.
[ "O-okay, okay, I'm fucked." ]
Seeing that there's no windows in this dining hall, only being illuminated by the damaged chandelier above, and candlelights on the side. He gave up on the idea of going out, or in trying to find a way out.
As there are no windows, no doors, no secret rooms connected other than the corridor where he came from... And that doesn't seem to be a choice for him, as there is a monster there...
Not metaphorical, not joking, and not an exaggeration. As there is a literal monster there, on the hunt, on the prowl... Seemingly the older variant of this blind monster.
Talking about the blind variant, Alexander wonders if he should kill the thing using one of the spoons in front of it, or stab it using its walking stick, or perhaps just kick and punch it to death... This monsters after all caused him pain, suffering, and torture every time he died.
No matter the appearance, as long as they have this SCP Title above their heads. They are a threat, as proven by his many-many reluctant escapades every time he respawns. Before then being hunted by one of the SCP instances, and killed...
It's not a matter of if he would survive, but how long he'll live. As each time in the 7 such instances of his respawn, this being the latest, he would be then hunted... Then killed. Fast, slow, brutal, or even more brutal; doesn't matter, he'll die either way.
Noticing that he is weak, panting even. He then tried searching for a weapon, thinking that he is gonna die anyway, why not take one such instance, one less monster so that the civilians in this Universe wouldn't get hurt.
Seeing no weapon nearby, he reluctantly grabbed the wooden chair beside him. The creaking noise alerted the blind monster sitting on the head of the table; [ "George, w-what are you doing?" ] Before then smiling, showing the man's crooked teeth, [ "Is the dinner ready yet?" ] Disgusted by this, he was about to hit the man square to the face with the wooden chair...
But paused... He can't do it, he can't take another person's life, even if that thing is a monster masquerading as human...
[ "I'm not George." ]
But it doesn't mean he won't hurt it, in anger he curls his dominant hand— right hand into a fist, as he then in anger strikes it down to the shocked face of the monster. [ "W-wh-?!" ]
[ "Y-you monsters!" ] One fist, two fist, three fist, this might sound like a Doctor Seuss book but it ain't. As it's the wronged Alexander's fist colliding with the pale face of the SCP-957-1's instance, the latter's shades break in impact.
[ "P-please don't hurt me...!" ] Looking at the monster under him, Alexander realized that this won't do. As the rage bottled up inside him, brewing for a week now since his first-death, after his System activated, and after he gets spawned into different locations of the world encountering monsters— SCPs left and right, once every day... All killing him haplessly in turn.
First it was the IKEA Monsters. Second was Giant Skeletons that reached the sky stomping down on him in the middle of the forest. Thirdly was a Garfield, or supposed to be Garfield Monster eating him, seasoned in lasagna. Fourthly the Wendigo.
Fifthly it was spidermonsters, or something like that in a junkyard hiding under car parts, predominantly busses with the younger of the instances eating him after he tried defending himself against the hundreds or so monsters. The latest, the sixth instance is about him getting possessed by a Ghost, which then made him jump off of a building... Splat!
This the seventh, it seemingly means he'll get cannibalized by these such monsters. This SCP-957 and SCP-957-1 if he doesn't fight back. He doesn't want to die, he doesn't like the feeling of dying, he still hasn't gotten used to it yet.
As he with what little rationality he has, broke, remembering the painful memories of being eaten and murdered by the SCPs. He wants revenge, to kill one at least... Fuck it, less monsters means more safety for the unsuspecting citizens.
He grabbed the nearest spoon nearby, a silver spoon with no fork in sight, or a knife. He reluctantly grabbed this instead and was ready to kill, if not then hurt the instance before the larger variant spots him. [ "N-no more." ]
Hearing that Alexander stopped, as his rationality comes back... He really couldn't kill a thing no matter what he does... It's just that great at mimicking humans, or perhaps it was really human in the first place and he just jumped to conclusions. [ "I-I'm sorry." ]
Reluctantly letting go, he abandoned his goal of killing the monster and instead let go. Causing the latter to fall to the ground, and back away into a corner, farthest away from the unknown assailant. [ "Mi-mister." ]
[ "Please take wh-whatever you want, just don't hurt us." ]
[ "G-george, please don't hurt my b-boyfriend." ]
[ "He's all I-I have left." ]
[ WARNING: SCP NO. 957-1 ANTHONY MORRIS C. BURR IS AFRAID OF THE PLAYER NO. 1's PRESENCE ]
[ "Fuck." ] Alexander heard the man's plea and realized that he might be the monster in this scenario, plus the information given by the System which said this monster is afraid...
Perhaps Alexander has been wrong in the first place, perhaps this monster and that other monster are good SCP Monsters. Unlike some of the so-called SCPs that he encountered which attacked him on sight, there were still some that didn't, the IKEA Monsters.
When the lights were on, they didn't attack him, and didn't bother with his presence.
Only when the lights disappeared then did they ask for him to leave, in their distorted voice... Before then snapping his neck.
Nonetheless that encounter did prove to him that these monsters and their domains work in different ways than common sense. Perhaps if he understands it, then can they reach cooperation, then finally that persistent System Quest of Capturing SCPs could be completed.
He understands being misunderstood, perhaps he just did that and beat up someone else without any reasons at all other than the outer appearance of the other.
Yes, perhaps he was the one in the wrong in the first place. This instance, but in the other instances is... Yes, uhh- this is the tamest SCPs he has encountered thus far. He needs to communicate.
Guilty looking at the fearful SCP-957-1 curled up on the ground, hands out and shaking in fear. Face bloodied, with Alexander's right fist being bloodied red.
He then spoke, wanting to clarify the misunderstandings; seeing that after all this species or type of monster can understand English, Alexander's second language; [ "Sir, I-I'm Alexander." ]
[ "I-I just wants to say that I'm sorry for... punching you." ]
[ "You see I uhh- I'm n-" ]
But before he could continue his talk, about to explain why he got here, how he got here. To build trust... His head detached from his body, his consciousness there and realizing this fact widens his eyes— the light green hue in his eyes flashing slightly before losing its glint. Death.
Time seems to slow down as the then blood of Alexander showers all over the dilapidated dining hall, a fountain that lands to the nearest objects may that be the wooden chairs with delicate sculpting, or walls that share history, none was spared.
With Alexander's body then flopping down to the floor as the last act. The monster that did this, SCP-957 that has disproportional strength compared to its supposed body type could be seen grumbling in an unknown but understandable language, as it then licks the blood off of its hands— tasting it.
Seeing the state of its "lover" it became angered, as it then stomps on the body of Alexander into mush. Only stopping when it felt satisfied. [ "A-anthony my love, d-don't worry." ] Opening its mouth, a voice different from the grumbled speech of it appeared; this one fluent English with an accent.
[ "G-george?! I-I was so scared." ] It then sat down besides the shaking, fearful blind man. About to hug the smaller instance, it stopped, as it instead comforts the latter using its words; [ "Shh. Don't worry, the monster is now gone." ]
[ ——— ] [ ——— ] [ ——— ] [ ——— ]
[ 05/11/2025 ]
[ 05/12/2025 ]