SCP Containment Breach Wiki:Role Playing/The Breach/Part 3

Dr. Lavrov watched as Gale pulled out his pistol, leaving the office and waiting for Lander to come down. What a crushing fate for Lander to be infected by 008, even more so that Gale be the one to put him out of that misery. Wilson and the doctor stood uneasily in the office in anticipation for something to break the uncomfortable silence. A crack of the pistol was heard. Wilson and Lavrov turned to each other, knowing what had happened. Leaving the room into the corridor, they saw as Gale stood like a statue, towering over the collapsed soldier.

Wilson and Lavrov looked down at Lander's body. A pool of blood was growing under him, his mouth smeared with blood. He had likely fed already on someone else. Lavrov sighed. He looked to Wilson, who was still glaring down at the corpse. Lavrov was cold, and right now his concerns weren't entirely on Lander's death, no matter how tragic the circumstances of it was.

"Hey." Lavrov tapped Wilson's arm, catching his attention. "I need to ask this now, regardless of losing a soldier. How did you bring me back from the dead?"

. . .

A hole of hardly significance was being dug, Prankster's will undaunted. It might have seemed unimportant to the normal eye, but The Prankster was proud of his work. He was getting closer and closer from being free, even if this trying may take an hour or two. He will get out. And he will have retribution.

--Tremor (talk) 20:05, August 2, 2013 (UTC)

Wilson stared at Lander's lifeless body, though strangley showing barely any remorse. He peered at it, until Lavrov tapped his shoulder and asked the question. Wilson sighed before he answered. 'Ok, after the P-Prankster got in the symbol, his body got possessed or something. The possessor c-called himself He-Who-Made-Light, and in return, he gave me threee wishes. I asked for a the g-gun...' he explained, gesturing towards the M16 on the table. 'Um....something else, but it was rejected' he said, blushing. 'And for you to be resurrected'. After I then asked him to kill the Prankster, he said no and just left.'

--Fireworks888 (talk) 20:14, August 2, 2013 (UTC)

"BASIL!"

He instinctively ran into the blast room as Basil emblazed body flew towards the fuel line. Soon, explosions occured while he closed the door and hid in the blast room.

"Let us take over your body. We can help. Just embrace the darkness and we can save you."

"SHUT IT ALREADY!"

"You know you can't do anything while everthing around you burn. Let us help. We can take to where you cease the burning. Embrace the darkness. EMBRACE IT!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

Suddenly he felt a huge pain in his abdomen and his vision turn black. He lost all control of body. All he can see is blackness. And he felt hopeless to do anything. He couldn't even speak. Everthing is black, and he has been thrown into the darkness against his will.

--Baton Guy (talk) 20:39, August 2, 2013 (UTC)

Gale lowered the gun and slowly, it slipped from his fingers and dropped. The clink of metal against floor was loud. He stood there and a silent whisper was heard. He then  grabbed the body, put it on his back, and simply walked away from the group into the darkness of the corridors.

As he continued on, he looked up to the bloody face of Lander, and the sadistic smile returned on Gale's lips.

"Don't forget to wake up, Lander, I'll need you soon."

He lifted a hand and placed it on Lander's head. A flap of skin was hanging, and he put it back. Now, he just needed someone to remove the stray bullet, and he would be fine, right? Right?

"Right."

--Ltn Vasquez, officially Technical Sergeant Jeffrey &#91;REDACTED&#93; (talk) 04:45, August 3, 2013 (UTC)

Lavrov pondered for a moment. He-Who-Made-Light; who was he? What was he? But most importantly, why does he care about some scared-pissed guard? Lavrov stared off into space, running through what possible connection that a trickster god would have with such a being. He couldn't find those answers on Earthly ideals, he knew, he needed to look to the cosmos. And he had an idea as to what may know that connection.

Lavrov started off, not minding as Gale picked Lander's body up and piggy-backed it. There were more people at stake than just Gale and his mental stability. He strutted off, leaving Wilson to handle the situation.

The halls were empty and muggy. There was the occasional growl, likely from a distant 008-1. Sometimes doors were ripped off their hinges, others looked like they were smashed through. Sometimes he'd see the remains of personnel; dangling from the wall was the former upper-torso of Dr. Fredrick, in Sector-B3 laid the ashes of some unfortunate soul, and in pieces was that of a charred Dr. Zhou. Lavrov came across a tattered and rather melted guard. His eyes were liquid resting at the bottom of his skull, his face skinless and seemingly aged as if maggots had already feasted it on the flesh, his chest ripped from the inside. Breaking the hand holding the rifle, Lavrov inspected it. It was... functional, strangely, grenade launcher and all. Either way, Lavrov made the best of what he could.

Looking up, the sign read "SECTOR-L". Lavrov opened the double-door, entering a long narrow chrome corridor, at the end was another pair of doors. Pushing through the doors revealed a horrifying sight. A giant, insect-like beast screeched as Lavrov entered, surrounded by dead and ripped bodies of MTFs. It had six or seven limbs, a plethora of eyes, and twin pinchers. It towered over everything, at least ten feet tall in height. Like a hurricane, the monster ran toward the doctor. Lavrov knew exactly what it was.

It was SCP-363.

--Tremor (talk) 05:41, August 3, 2013 (UTC)

A bright light had woken Lander up from his slumber. His eyes slowly opened as they adjusted to the light.

Ugh.....what the hell....I feel like I just got hit by a car or got shot in the face and.....wait...

That's when all of the memories came flooding back to Lander's mind. The breach, him getting infected with 008, the red figure speaking to him and controlling his body, him releasing 1049, and him being shot by Gale.

Wait, if Gale shot me, then where the fuck am I?

Lander took this time to look at his surroundings. He appeared to have been sitting on a bench that was facing a large open ended lake. The sky had a rather......greyish tone to it, it was nothing like he had ever seen before.

Jesus, this place looks like it was hit by some sort of color bomb, kinda reminds me of SCP-890-

" Oh believe me, it was not that SCP, though that's not to say that that SCP will not return in the future. "

Lander turned his head and realized that there was a man sitting beside him. He had a briefcase on his lap and was dressed in a rather old looking suit. His face was very pale and he didn't even turn to face Lander, he simply stared at the vast lake in front of them.

Oh no....no way, it can't be!

" Why exactly can't it be? After all, this is a dream. Anything can happen. "

--Dr.Mark, your lord and saviour. (talk) 06:51, August 3, 2013 (UTC)

The sudden intense bursts of flame engulfed Basil. The heat was unbearable, and he could feel his skin cracking and peeling, his hair singed. Eventually, Basil was completely unrecognizable. His entire body had been charred. He looked like a marshmallow left roasting in the fire for way too long. As soon as the last of the blasts had ceased, Basil stood up, with some difficulty.

"What was I thinking?" He thought. "What part of me could possibly believe that splashing coffee on it was a good idea?" He looked down at his hand. "How is it that my cup hasn't been destroyed?" Then another thought hit him. "How is it that I'm still alive?" Basil fruitlessly pondered this for a half-second, but he then realized that 457 had just split in two. Fortunately for Basil, they were fighting, and didn't take notice of him. Thinking reasonably for once, Basil entered the hole in the wall. He didn't see Baton freaking out in the blast room, as he was looking for something else.

"There we go.", He said upon finding the control panel. He proceeded to turn on as many sprinklers as possible, then checked back outside. Most of the fires had been put out, but the 457 instances were still there. One pounded on a pipe that was carrying water. It burst open, drenching the thing, and extinguishing it in the process. The other had taken notice of Basil, and began dragging its weakened form towards him. Basil smirked, then removed a miraculously intact cigar from his pocket.

When the shapeless ball of fire finally got close to Basil, he simply lit his cigar with it and watched it slowly get smaller. He had a small puff, then threw the cigar in the containment chamber. He enabled the gas, but just enough so that 457 wouldn't burn out, allowing it to become a small flame that flickered towards Basil regardless of where he stood. He locked the containment chamber down as tight as it would allow, and then noticed Baton. He let him out of the blast shield.

"Baton! It's me, Basil! Are you alright?"

--Phantasmagorian (talk) 07:09, August 4, 2013 (UTC)

"The darkness is your ally. The darkness is your savior. We have become a part of you, and you have become a part of us. At long last, the darkness has a chance to rise. And you're going be the one to deliver it to the world."

He was hopeless to do anything. All he could to do was listen to the voice whisper into his ear.

" Baton, Allow the darkness to guide and help you in your great journey. Call to the darkness and summon great powers beyond belief when in a bind. Don't worry, you'll see that embracing the darkness is a great thing to behold. Now I release from your chains. Go. Go and make your first step on the world as the Bringer of Darkness. Bring the world to it's knees. MAY THE DARKNESS DWELVE IN YOUR HEART!"

Suddenly he was able to see and move. He regained control of his body and saw in front of him of charred figure.

"Baton! It's me, Basil! Are you alright?", said the charred figure.

"Basil? How are you still alive?"

He still felt weird. Him being in the darkness took out most of his energy. He looked at his body. Both his hand was covered in black vines markings. Like a tattoo of some sort.

"Markings of the darkness. They're put onto your entire body to symbolize you becoming one with the darkness."

"Second of all, I think need to lie down somewhere and examine my body."

--Baton Guy (talk) 08:04, August 4, 2013 (UTC)

The giant not-centipede swung at Lavrov, missing each time. Lavrov aimed for the head, unloading a couple of rounds before the creature just became more furious. Running with its many legs, it picked Lavrov off the ground and tossed him against the metal-enforced walls. His spine certainly hurt but nothing major. He was aware what the creature was trying to do now; make it's prey softer and weaker for easier digestion. Stepping over the dead and torn bodies quickly, Lavrov jumped into one of the very few doors in the hallway. It looked like a rather large engine room and the engine was still running on some sort of alternate power storage. Lavrov glanced around, hearing the SCP-363 screeching behind him. On the side of the room were a couple of large crates, which he assumed he could hide behind.

As Lavrov dove to the cover of the wooden crates, SCP-363 slipped through the door, widening the entrance. It stalked around, prowling, looking for its prey. Lavrov held his breath, breathing quietly through his nostrils. He waited for the right moment, the monstrosity tearing apart other items in the room in order to find its snack. Loud clanks and crashes were made as in effort to find Lavrov. The doctor peered over the edge of the crates, his head barely visible to the monster. It was heading toward the pile of boxes that veiled Lavrov, though it was looking in another direction. Gun readied, Lavrov stepped out into the beast's view.

The not-centipede didn't have much time to react as Lavrov unloaded what was left of the magazine into the creature's stomach, leaving a wide gap in it's lower body. Like a tiger angered, the SCP-363 skittered toward Lavrov in a fury. Lavrov was lucky he only got a nasty scratch mark on his arm when the damn thing barreled toward him, because he ended the creature's run with a shot of the attached grenade launcher. Now, Lavrov wasn't really a soldier boy and only had minimal training with a rifle, but he knew how to aim enough. And he made sure that the explosive lodged itself into the large open wound.

Ducking the monster's left swing, he bailed out of room through the ripped doorway, the beast at his heels until suddenly the grenade exploded in its innards. There was a loud splat and the not-centipede kneel over in pain, causing the body to split. Lavrov went to look at his work. This SCP-363 instance had quite resistant armor. Thankfully the men before Lavrov damaged the shell sufficiently enough for him to crack it wide open and destroy from the inside. He tossed the gun aside, knowing that using only the grenade launcher was not an accurate means of attack. He was left defenseless once again.

He walked down the hallways of Sector-L, leaving behind the bloodied mess of the not-centipede's work behind. He wasn't around to notice when the "corpse" of the SCP-363 beginning to self-mutate, growing extra limbs where its body had been blown off, healing from it wounds, it began to resize. It picked up on Lavrov's scent, beginning to move and prepared to attack. And it was after blood this time, not food.

--Tremor (talk) 19:10, August 4, 2013 (UTC)

Wilson was alone in the offices. Lander is dead, Gale is mentally unstable, and Lavrov is god knows where. The aching pain of his broken body was unbearable and he knew it would be a while until it wore off. He need medical attention. Seeing how the Heavy Containment's medical wing barely had any supplies, the wounded guard hoped the Light Containment's would be a different story. He stepped out of the frame of the office door and limped his way towards the nearest trolley to the LC Section.

--Fireworks888 (talk) 01:35, August 5, 2013 (UTC)

"But...don't you only appear in dreams?"

" Perhaps. " The man still hadn't turned to face lander.

Huh, I guess the bullet didn't kill me then. Lander then went back to staring at the vast lake.

" Listen David, I need something of you.....may I call you David? "

"Um...ok." Lander decided not to question 990's reason for calling him a different name.

" Anyway, the breach that you are currently in was not caused by technical malfunctions. "

"It wasn't?"

" No, it was caused by a group that wants to reclaim something of there's. " Lander then turned to look at the man.

"Reclaim something? What might that something be?"

" Why, SCP-882 David. "

--Dr.Mark, your lord and saviour. (talk) 06:37, August 5, 2013 (UTC)

After what felt like hours, Wilson finally arrived at a damaged trolley. It's left wall was completely ripped to shreds, it had several scratches and gunshot holes on it, and the control box was blood covered, yet still functional. He flipped the switch, set the location, and got settled into the trolley. It moved slowly, but it would get Wilson to his destination way faster than he could on his own. Wilson shut his eyes, promising himself that it is only eye rest, though, he very quickly feel to slumber.

He woke up with a startle. He couldn't have been asleep more than a few minutes, though the trolley wasn't moving, as it seemingly busted down midway when Wilson was asleep. He peeked his head out of the trolley's opening, seeing how he was by the D cells. 'Ok, I'm only a few hallways from Light Containment. Looks like I'm walking.' he thought as he jumped off the dysfunctional trolley, leaving belt of rounds behind and hurried his way towards the LC's hospital.

After about 10 minutes of limping, the growls finally stopped, as he wasn't near the 008 victims, yet as he turned a corner, an....orb of flesh jumped out at Wilson, sending him flying back. 'OH MY GOD!' he exclaimed. A blob of pure tissue 'stood' in front of Wilson. It had black, beady eyes and tearings of orange cloth scattered around it's so called body. The tearings said in thick black letters 'D-999-' until it was cut off. It was a 427-1 who was originally a D class. He pulled his M16 out of his torn pack and unloaded a mag on the flesh beast.

If it was doing damage, it sure didn't display, as the steaming bullets simply stabbed into the creature and sunk into it's flabs of flesh. He reached for another round, but only felt one. 'Shit, I left the rest back at the trolley.' he swore in his thoughts. His attack enraged the flesh monster more than it's usual hostility was and it dashed towards Wilson. He ran from the beast as it quickly slithered towards him.

--Fireworks888 (talk) 07:12, August 5, 2013 (UTC)

"Um. Sure.. You do that." Before sheepishly looking away, Basil noticed that Baton had several dark markings on Batons hands.

"You finished yet?" He asked.

"Erm, yeah."

"We should get going"

They walked out of the room and into the hallway.

--Phantasmagorian (talk) 05:15, August 6, 2013 (UTC)

The creature slithered closer and closer to a limping Wilson. Suddenly, the beast had an idea its used in the past. It used the bullets it absorbed from Wilson's attack and flung them back at him. One stray hit directly in the back of Wilson's knee, the knee on his good leg. This instantly caused Wilson to trip and fall over. The pain was multiplied, as Wilson was practically crippled from the waist down. He rolled on his back and saw how the deformed D class was only a few meters away from him, getting closer and closer every second. Wilson crawled backwards and remembered, his M16 had a grenade launcher. He grabbed his trusty M16, aimed it directly at the damned creature and fired the launcher, sending a large grenade right into the creature's eye.

It immediately exploded on impact, halfly blinding the D class, sending it dashing back and sloshy pieces of it's black eye to paint the walls around it. Yet, this did not in the least bit help, as it only gave Wilson a few more seconds to retreat, but it also enraged the creature even more. He explosion reminded him of something. Fire. He remembered how extreme heat could quickly disable a flesh beast, giving Wilson a searing idea.

--Fireworks888 (talk) 05:34, August 6, 2013 (UTC)

Despite the pain in his head, a map formed in his head based on his memory. Yet, it had abated, leaving only the static noise in his head the soft click of boots. He'd passed by many containment chambers and 008 instances, but he never noticed one.

Despite having shot his friend, he knew that he had purposely aimed higher than he should have. He still believed in him, that's why he didn't shoot him.

When he reached the elevator to Gate A, in the darkness of the room, he heard Lander mumble in his unconsciousness. He smiled again, he hoped for Lander to wake up, perhaps they can walk out of this.

Upon the elevator opening to Gate A, he found that up ahead, MTF were swarming. The noise was loud, so he stood in the elevator and watched those insects swarm around. How strange they were, perhaps they should leave?

--Ltn Vasquez, officially Technical Sergeant Jeffrey &#91;REDACTED&#93; (talk) 18:29, August 6, 2013 (UTC)

The chamber doors cracked open as Lavrov inserted the Level 3 keycard (which he looted off a corpse) into the slot. He didn't hear as the angry SCP-363 made it's way silently across the ceiling, getting right above Lavrov's position. Slipping the card into his pocket, Lavrov paused before stepping in. He felt as if something wasn't right; that's when the not-centipede pounced on him. The landing cracked the back of his ribs and minorly damaged his spine. The foul-hearted beast moved off the researcher, letting a vicious roar, its breath watering Lavrov's eyes. Lavrov wasn't sure how but the thing had survived: same number of eyes and arms, but a different number of legs. It had also shrunk in size. Swinging its arm up, the monster attempted to strike the doctor. Lavrov rolled quickly, evading the beast's fatal attack. He may not have had the gun anymore, but he still had one more line of defense.

Lavrov backed up as fast as he could, though the not-centipede was far faster. Pulling the lollipop of his pocket, the monster leaned in closer, fangs primed to strike. With a quick unwrapping of the paper, Lavrov threw the treat as hard as he could to the ground below the sprinting creature. Suddenly, a sound of moving glaciers was heard as the sucrose expanded and encased the SCP-363 instance. The insect was suddenly inside the sweet sugary ice-like trap. He looked dark now, like chocolate, as expected. The crystal was red, which made sense as the lollipop he threw was cherry flavored. Dusting his shirt off, he continued back to the chamber.

--

Finally, he had dug long enough. He found the water pipe, a slight trickle where it had been bolted. "(Bingo)" thought the Prankster. He was almost out, just a little longer and he's be free. He remembered how low it was of Light-boy to take over his body, which is saying a lot considering their long relationship. No one makes a tool of The Prankster, and he'll make sure Light knows that.

--

The label read "SCP-738, Classification: Keter". Lavrov looked on at the three different metal doors, each holding a piece of SCP-738. Opening all three, he dragged the two chairs to their respected places to the mahogany desk in the middle room. As Lavrov sat, a man with dark hair and yellow eyes appeared in front of him. He appeared to be his early twenties, wearing a black business suit with red tie, and had a gushing white grin on his face.

"You and I need to make a deal." said Lavrov, stern and stiff.

--Tremor (talk) 20:18, August 6, 2013 (UTC)

What he saw back there frighten him. The markings were all over his body, not just his hands. Gladly, it wasn't on his face. But he pondered on what the voice had said. "Call to the darkness and summon great powers beyond belief when in a bind." What did the voice mean? Does he some kind of superpower now or something? He didn't care. He wasn't going to let the darkness have his way with him. All that mattered to him was 053. And he be damned if anything happens to her. In fact, where is she now? Hopefully she still in her containment room.

"Do not worry. She will be fine. We will not harm her nor let her harmed. The darkness accepts all that you love."

"I'm not letting her become what I am", he said in his head.

"Fine then."

"Good.", he said in his head.

"So Basil, where are we heading now? And you still haven't answered my question about how you survived that explosion."

--Baton Guy (talk) 20:43, August 6, 2013 (UTC)

Wilson's dark blood flowed out from under his leg from the bullet wound. Now, only relying on his upper body strength, he ripped off his balaclava and wrapped it around his knee to stop the bleeding, exposing him to only his pale,sweating face. He crawled, using only his arms, down the hallway. He crawled near another elevator shaft without a door. It's supports seemingly broke as well, as when he looked down, there was nothing that a crushed, broken down elevator. He rolled off into the shaft and fell through the top door of the elevator. He landed inside it on his shoulder. CRACK! His shoulder broke his fall, but the force dislocated it.

Screaming out in pain, Wilson looked up to see the flesh beast falling right towards him. He used his only strong limb to quickly crawl out of the elevator. He heard a CRASH behind him, obviously the beast landing right behind him. This fucking thing is determined. However, this was all a part of Wilson's plan. He rolled his way from the beast and towards the a chamber, the incinerator chamber.

--Fireworks888 (talk) 21:01, August 6, 2013 (UTC)

"Contracts are my line of work, so I suppose I can abide to your request." the Dealer said in a cheery voice.

"Before we get to this contract, however, I have some questions which of course I'm going to assume you know. Is there a price on knowledge in your 'work'?" asked Lavrov.

"All depends on what we're asking now." The Dealer chuckled.

"What is the connection between the entity who refers itself as 'The Prankster' and a being who calls itself 'He-Who-Made-Light'?"

The Dealer straightened his tie in discomfort. "The boss-man has such information under a strict need-to-know-basis. This, uh" The Dealer cleared his throat. "Ahem, why do you ask?"

"Because The Prankster isn't dead. I've only trapped him."

The Dealer shifted his eyes left to right, talking through his teeth. "What do you mean you trapped The Prankster...?"

"I mean I trapped him. Are you trying to pull something over on me?"

The Dealer pushed his seat back for a moment. "Uh, e-excuse me for a moment; this usually isn't part of the agreement but, um, I need to check something." With a turn, the Man was gone. Lavrov was a bit bewildered; this isn't part of the entity's behavior. Its acting of weariness was something not seen before.

Enter the Dealer, standing in front of what would look like to anyone else a normal glacier. But there was something special about this giant mountain of ice; the water it froze was purified, keeping and taming what was locked inside. Phasing into the ice burned the Dealer's skin a great bit, but this was required due to the inquires Lavrov had offered. He went further and further in. Reaching the center of blizzard behemoth was the stilled body of what a human would think of as a jester.

The Dealer reappeared in his seat. He had a stern look on his face. "I am afraid I must deny your request for knowledge. The Prankster is currently suspended in a giant glacier in Antarctica, ergo your claims of him being in this facility is wrong."

"Th-That's impossible! I saw him! I trapped him using the Lucifer Sigil! I--" Lavrov was cut off.

"How the Hell do you know about the Lucifer Sigil!?" the Dealer leaned in closer.

"I learned it from a source you could say." responded Lavrov. "Now, tell me: how can two Pranksters exist at once?"

Once again, the Dealer pushed his chair. "Excuse me for another moment, please. I need to speak with my superiors about this... development." The Dealer knew that a low-level scientist with knowledge about the Lucifer Sigil is big fish. He needed to know what exactly was going on. Again, with a turn, he was gone. Lavrov remained seated in his chair, just like the last time. He waited for a few minutes, tapping his seat in the boredom and anticipation. When the Dealer reappeared, his expression told the story of someone with clarity.

"After some negotiation with our CEO, we've concluded your claims are indeed true. However I am afraid we cannot help you with this issue."

"And why not?" asked the curious doctor.

"Because it is against employee policy to deal with temporal rifts and time-travelling affairs."

--

With a snap of the pipe, water sprayed the intersection where the symbol was. The salt washed away, and that was all that it would need to break the seal. Prankster was free once, raising his limped body. Grabbing the silver pole and pulling it from his chest, he superheated it in his hand, watching as the metal oozed onto the floor. After that, he ascended far above the facility, looking down upon the chaos: a giant lizard there, a freak of nature here, the same ol' jig. Priorities were priorities, however, and Prankster had no time for watching the slaughter of pathetic humans trying to contain what they can't understand.

"You're first, Light-boy."

--Tremor (talk) 02:00, August 7, 2013 (UTC)

He finally got the chamber, even though he felt like he's rolled in a bed of spikes. He leaned his back up against the wall and aimed his launcher above a pursuing mutant. He fired his second grenade right at the support beam over the 427-1. It exploded in a collection of heat, completely shattering the supports, leaving the beast to have a hurricane of debris falling towards it. It made a wall of the use-to-be ceiling between and angered beast and a wounded guard. Wilson crawled up into the control room that operated the chamber. He turned the heat on high, sending a blaze of heat into the room. The beast broke down the wall of debris with an explosion of pure force.

'Oh, s-shit.' Wilson swore at the sight of an angry monster sprinting right towards him with no where to run. It jumped up towards the sky like a majestic crane, but burrowed down through the air towards Wilson like a torpedo. It slammed into him, causing them both to fly back through the window leading into the chamber. With this thing wrapped around Wilson's front, Wilson crashed onto the ground of the chamber. The heat of the chamber's floors seared his back and quickly burned right through his bodysuit. It stung like he was in a furnace, yet he actually was. The beast, suffocating Wilson felt the stingingly hot waves clash up against it's 'body'.

It quickly hopped off Wilson and started to squirm in pain from the heat, making odd groans and growls. It quickly set ablaze. The creature slithered around the room, helpless trapped in a microwave while on fire. Wilson's exposed skin went to snow white to a black tan in seconds. He rolled over on his stomach and started to crawl towards the chamber doors. The vents producing heat felt like several jabs to his stomach with hot railroad spikes. Finally he reached the door.

He used the handle on the control panel to elevate himself up. He slammed his fist into the first button, opening the door. He pushed himself off the wall towards the opened door and crawled his way out. His entire vest was scorched off, exposing his black,crisped torso. A smoking hot cut was slashed up against his cheek. He leaned up against the wall as he pressed the button to close it so the searing hot waves of pure heat couldn't spread anywhere else. The last thing he heard out of that room was a screech from that very creature he just set inflamed.

Wilson sat up against the wall, broken and cooked. He puked up into his lap as he got settled into his seat up against the chamber door. He couldn't walk. He couldn't move his arms. He could barely speak. He simply sat against the door, closed his eyes, and passed out against, leaving himself there.

--Fireworks888 (talk) 03:13, August 7, 2013 (UTC)

"Good question", Basil thought. "Wait, what if... no, that doesn't make sense."

"I know as much as you do, Baton.", He replied.

Basil hesitated.

"We probably should make sure the others are safe. Let's head down to Light Containment. So, where are we, then? I was in a rush when I arrived..."

Baton shifted uncomfortably.

"Uh. I don't know"

"You don't know? Why not?"

--Phantasmagorian (talk) 07:52, August 7, 2013 (UTC)

"Well it's kinda uhh... complicated."

Speaking of which, how did he get to where he was? And how did he get infected by the darkness?

"It kinda has something to do with this."

He showed Basil his arm, which has the markings sprawled all over.

"It's the marking of the darkness. It's all over my body. When the containment breach started I was looking for 053. But then I... I guess I blacked out and was teleported to somewhere where you found me. I'm infected by the darkness. And it wants nothing more than to drown the world in darkness. The Darkness chose me as the "Bringer of Darkness". And now, I feel like my soul is slowly being eaten by the darkness."

"Pretty soon you'll learn that there's nothing you can do about it."

"So yeah. That's my story. What about you? What were you doing before you came across me?"

--Baton Guy (talk) 19:47, August 7, 2013 (UTC)

Lander simply stared at the man and blinked.

"SCP-882?"

" Indeed David, do you know what that is? "

"Um, no actually." Lander didn't really like reading the documents of SCPs, he preferred to just simply read them when the time came to re-contain them or something like that. The only thing he knew about SCP-882 was that it had something to do with a church, though he was sure that he had misheard since he doubted that a church would have something to do with an SCP.

"Can you tell what it is?"

" Unfortunately, my knowledge only goes as far as the knowledge in your brain. "

"Then how come you knew about this.....group, trying to reclaim SCP-882?"

" He told me. "

"Who's he?"

Suddenly the ground below them started to shake, and a bright light filled the sky. Lander looked off into the distance to see a huge mushroom cloud fill the sky.

" Oh he's someone you know quiet well. "

Lander turned to look back at 990 only to realize that he wasn't there. He looked back to the mushroom cloud. He noticed that the cloud itself looked rather....fake. As if it was painted or something.

As Lander was pondering this, he started to hear some strange sounds. He heard people running, but it was kinda muffled like it was coming from behind a wall or something. Then suddenly, the sky started to fade to black. Along with the mushroom cloud, then the lake, then the bench he was on. Then...there was nothing but darkness all around Lander.

--Dr.Mark, your lord and saviour. (wall) 23:57, August 7, 2013 (UTC)

"You're going to pay for using me like that, Light." Prankster said to himself as he flew around, trying find out where they had been keeping ol' Shadows at. He put his feelers out, trying to sense out Shadows' presence. He floated for some time before he picked up the dark bastard's scent. "Gotcha."

With a thought, he teleported to a large metal warehouse. Above the door in bolded font read "SCP-435". Two men, one at each side of the door, he raised their weapons and pointed at the tricky fiend. Prankster took a step and was greeted by rounds of bullets being unloaded into his chest. He laughed, continuing his waltz. A flick of his wrists and the gun went soaring from the soldiers hands. He came close to the two soldier boys, each with a blatant look of fear on their faces. The Prankster grinned, pointing at the man on the left, his kevlar vest and helmet standing out among his attire. "Up up and away with you!" the Prankster said. The man's head suddenly expanded, his eyes growing, his mouth receding like a Sour Head. The helmet tore into two and fell unto the ground. The other man could only watch in perplexed terror as the other man began to float, his head a balloon. The Prankster waited for the man to ascend far above the warehouse before he moved on to his next victim. The man didn't even have time to react when Prankster grabbed his lungs.

The guard gasped for air, looking down where the Beast's hands enter his body. There wasn't any blood or holes, but it was obvious that they were inside, squeezing tightly his lungs. "This is where you keep He-Who-Made-Dark, correct?", The Prankster teased, already knowing the answer. He needed something to say and startle this toy. The man nodded fastly, his mouth still wide open in an attempt to breath, With a smile, The Prankster said, "Thank you, my boy," and popped the man's lungs, leaving him to squabble on the ground and die.

Smashing the metal doors, Prankster made his way in. Far at the back of the room was the meteorite that sealed Shadows. The lights were still on, making Prankster giggle. Back-up generators, they really don't want ol' Shadows getting out. Of course, there was more gun-tooting soldiers in the warehouse. The first came up behind Prankster, slashing his throat. With a sinister cackle, Prankster turned on his heels with his ever-lasting grin. "How's popcorn sound right about now?" Prankster raised his hand as if reaching for something and pointed it at the warrior. Suddenly he was convulsing in pain as kernels popped in his stomach. He collapsed, coughing out blood-covered popcorn. The next one wasn't so fortunate. He came guns-a'-blazing at Prankster, doing as little effect as one would imagine. Prankster raised two of his fingers on one hand while the soldier continued to fire. Bringing them down, a distinct *splat* sound could be heard, and what was left of the trigger-happy comrade was a meat pancake on the floor, his organs stacked flatly upon each like stockpile. Two other soldier tried to ambush Prankster as Trigger-happy became a meat flapjack. The two had high-power energy weaponry at hand but neither got the chance to use them. Before they knew it, Prankster was already on to their plan to detain him. He bent over and opened his arms, a bright white light expelled from his body; it was the last thing those two MTFs ever saw.

Suddenly there was two man-shaped pillars of salt beside Prankster, who laughed at his own joke. That was the same trick Yahweh did back at Sodom and Gomorrah. Prankster turned to see a peaking cadet who was caught peeping at the wrong time. With a blink, Prankster was in front of him. The man pulled out his taser out too slow, and Prankster turned the extending device into a snake mid-shot. Grasping a flute from thin air, Prankster began his snake song, doing a little jig while he as an "insult to injury". The poor MTF dropped his taser-turned-snake, his hands becoming shaky from fear. The taser-snake was mesmerized by the Mischief-Maker's song, swaying to and fro. Prankster stopped, and pointed at the paralyzed trooper. "Fetch him, girl!" The taser struck the MTF in his neck, causing him to seize and scream in unison. It all stopped after his eyes exploded like goo from his head and left his skin a still-smoking electric-fried mess.

Another soldier came up, but stopped when Prankster centered his focus on brave lil' hero. He walked toward the soldier, who took strides backwards and did not fire in fear of what the trick master would do to him. Taking his hand, The Prankster twisted it, making the man twist into thin tower like a screw. There was no blood, but the man was dead for certain. The twisted, slim tower of flesh fell with a clink. The last man standing, a devout believer and married gentlemen, had taken off his battle gear and got on his knees and began to pray. Prankster watched as tears dripped from his eyes. He tapped the man shoulders, a look of fake empathy on his face. He asked him; "Do you believe in the lord and savior, my child?" He nodded his head, still choked on anxiety. "Would you like to see His face?" The man only stared, not knowing what the jester meant. Suddenly, the man's eyes reflected with a hot white light and his head shook. Then, it faded. His iris and pupils disappeared, and suddenly he was drooling mess.

The Prankster had never laughed so hard in all his time.

But games were over now. The humans were taken care of each in their own way. Prankster snapped his fingers, hearing as each light post shattered. One line at a time, the room got dimmer and dimmer until there was one, right above Prankster and the rock riddled with many holes. He could already hear Shadows' grumblings. With one last presto of his juice, the room was plunged into darkness. Prankster sat back and waited for the being to rise. All he needed now was some time.

--Tremor (talk) 01:01, August 8, 2013 (UTC)

The markings had stunned Basil for a second. He pulled himself together. "Uh. Nothing much happened to me." He stopped. "Let's walk and talk." And so they did.

"I got trapped in my office, and some monstrosity got me out and almost killed me. I ran as fast as I could, and didn't pay attention to where I was going. Then, I ended up here, and you know the rest." Baton nodded slowly, but Basil couldn't help but feel as though he had forgotten something. He didn't bring it up. They kept walking.

~Eventually~

Passing through the light containment zone, the two came across the incinerator room.

"Someone's used it recently", Basil remarked partially to himself, partially to Baton. Upon looking closer, he saw Wilson, partially scorched and unmoving. He had several broken bones, and was slouched against the door.

"Gah!" Basil retorted. "Is he alright? Aren't you a doctor?"

"Well, yes, but-"

Basil cut him off mid-sentence. "Go make sure he's alright!"

--Phantasmagorian (talk) 06:14, August 8, 2013 (UTC)

He jogged over to the body. He looked like a burnt up Spicy Beef Nacho Hot Pocket. Almost as though he was in the furn-

"Oh you crazy bastard."

It didn't take an einstein to figure out that he needed medical attention quickly. At least he's still alive and breathing.

"Hey buddy? Can you hear me?"

He slapped his face but no answer. Maybe he shouldn't have done that.

"We need to get him somewhere where he can heal up."

He picked up Wilson and put him on his back. He faced Basil.

"What's the quickest route to the medical wing? Or do you not know?"

--Baton Guy (talk) 06:52, August 8, 2013 (UTC)

Basil swore under his breath. "No, I don't. Help me pick him up." Basil lifted his shoulders, while Baton got his feet. He heard something crack again. "That can't be good." He thought for a moment. "Let's look around. We might find help, or the medical wing, if we're l-"

That's when it hit him.

"Quick! To solitary confinement!"

--Phantasmagorian (talk) 22:35, August 9, 2013 (UTC)

"Might be quicker if I carry him on my back."

He put Wilson body on his back like a piggyback ride. He and Basil headed towards the solitary confinement. Baton didn't know why Basil wanted to go there. After a while they were about a hallway away from solitary confinement.

"You sure we should check out solitary confinement? I mean, there might be nothing there."

"No no no no. It's perfectly fine. In fact, We want you to check it out. It's your destiny!"

He shook his head. Now he even grew more concern. The Darkness wanting him to go there? Destiny? Something seems fishy.

--Baton Guy (talk) 02:47, August 10, 2013 (UTC)

After enough walking, they finally got to the solitary confinement area. The doors, surprisingly, were all closed.

"Let's check the surveillance monitors."

"For who?", Baton asked.

"You'll see."

It didn't take long, fortunately. They found him in the seventh cell they tried. They opened the door, and the man walked out. He had blondish hair, and a short beard.

"Your name is Grant, Right?", Basil asked him.

The man looked surprised. "Yeah, but nobody calls me that anymore. How did you know that?"

"Wild guess. You're coming with us."

--Phantasmagorian (talk) 07:02, August 11, 2013 (UTC)

"W-what? So, you're telling me The Prankster is from the past, future, or something?" asked an insatiably curious Lavrov.

The Dealer sighed in annoyance. "You asked about the connection between He-Who-Made-Light and The Prankster. Let us start there.

"I don't know much about Prankster, why he was selected, or what he was; all I know was that He-Who-Made-Light punished Prankster by making him immortal. But Prankster found a loophole in the way Light had made him immortal and became what he is now... at least, he's mastered his powers since then. But he didn't just make himself a reality-bending god; he became a Constant."

"Constant...? Like, in scientific theory?"

"No. As in, a Constant in the code of reality."

"He-- he implanted himself in reality?? How can--"

"Again, I don't know. The boss-man does, but it's under a need-to-know-basis, as I've said. See, you mud-monkeys don't understand how fragile the fabric of reality is. That's why you can't kill Prankster; because if you do, reality will start falling apart. Little things at first, like cloud abnormalities and bizarre formations in the Earth. Then suddenly there's no gravity."

"I-I see." Lavrov paused, that was a lot to digest. "So, how can I stop him?"

The Dealer looked around for a moment, his face concerned. "Listen, I'm not entitled to do this. My superiors would have my head on a damn silver plate and present it to all the employees! It's actually a very nice presentation..."

"So, you'll help me?"

"Indirectly, yes. You'll have to find Prankster on your own accord, I can't do anything about him. But I can provide the things to take him down. Besides, I've met Prankster, and that asshole will get what's coming to him." The Dealer chuckled in mischievous intent.

"So first thing's first: a cage, something that can trap him. Do you have any ideas?"

"Remember when Prankster said to you he had many names? Well, he wasn't lying. One of the more recent ones is SCP-17591."

"So, he came from the future then. There won't be any SCP with that designation in a very long time."

"He also came inside an SCP itself. You know it as SCP-699."

Lavrov's eyes widened. "So, Prankster was in there this whole time? But-- how?"

"SCP six-nine-nine was designed to keep something out, not in. Prankster feeds off emotions."

"But those are metaphysical, not tangible things."

"To humans, yes. However, to The Prankster, he can feel the emotions of a person and devour them. It's the source of his power."

"How does six-nine-nine stop emotions from reaching Prankster, though?"

The Dealer smiled. "There's a reason for all those lock mechanisms. It's all explainable through science of how it restricts emotions from reaching Prankster. At least, four hundred years from now it is."

"So, what you're saying--"

"What I'm saying is that you can shove his ass back where he came from. You just need a little assistance."

--Tremor (talk) 13:21, August 11, 2013 (UTC)

'Your name is Grant, right?' spoke a familiar voice. Wilson's black eyelids slowly rose up, exposing his bloodshot eyes. He shifted his eyes to his front. A head of grey hair stood in front of him. He must've been a scientist judging from his labcoat, but he couldn't tell who exactly he was. Wilson was leaning up against the scientist's back, his flesh stinging with the pressure. He analyzed the room. After a few seconds of processing, Wilson realized he was solitary confinement, a place he favoured over most sections, since it is where he and his comrades usually chatted. In front of the man who was carrying Wilson were two others. Another scientist that had a few burns almost as bad as Wilson's as well as a blonde haired man. They were talking, but Wilson was still wondering how he got here to even pay attention. 'Ok, the last thing I remember is slumping up against the incinerator room's door. I must've passed out and these guys rescued me.' he thought. Ready to reveal his consciousness, Wilson opened his mouth and spoke in a raspy voice, probably because of the fire damaging his throat. 'W-Where am I?'

--Fireworks888 (talk) 01:32, August 13, 2013 (UTC)

"W-Where am I?"

The voice came from the man who he is carrying. He looked at him.

"Oh hey! You're awake. Didn't expect you to wake up until we got you some medical attention."

He looked back at Basil and Grant.

"So, this is who we came here for? What's so special about him?

--Baton Guy (talk) 01:45, August 13, 2013 (UTC)

"Well, Grant here is going to... alright, MIGHT be able to help us get this guard medical attention."

Basil then noticed the guard moving.

"Oh, you're awake! What are the odds...", Basil trailed off. He turned to Grant. "So, you're coming with us." He turned to face everyone else. "He is going to make the impossible...slightly less impossible. Either that, or get us killed. Possibly worse."

--Phantasmagorian (talk) 05:41, August 17, 2013 (UTC)

((Controlling Ltn Vasquez's character with consent.))

Gale stumbled to get up, propping Lander against the corner of the elevator. He walked outside to patrol the area. Just a little further and we'll be gone, Lander. Gale had an expression with was a cross between something crazed and something doopy. Shrill screams of men and commandants barking orders could be heard amongst the cries of nature's unwanted children. The ground which Gale stood on was clean, surprisingly, and was pearly white. He looked to where the bridge made a B-line for the outside exit. Gale lost track of time as he stared off into space, thinking about how he could escape the facility with his dear friend Lander. He almost forgot the pain; the ungodly, unspeakable pain brought to him by that devil in a jester costume.

He didn't even have time to react when the Kitsune ripped into his guts.

Gale didn't know how she had snuck up on him like she did, or how he didn't hear her. The Kitsune's fox-like face pinched up as she ferociously snatched and teared out one of Gale's organs, of which he presumed was his liver from his biology and body classes. Gale fell back, landing hard on the tiled floor, injuring his spine and fracturing the back of his skull. The unrelenting woman laid aside the liver onto the ground, growling as she continued to dig her claws into his abdomen. Out came the stomach, then the kidneys. She began tugging at his entrails, holding each one in one of her hands with a lethal smile.

Gale was bliss to the torture, as he smiled to himself with his thoughts. ''This is how it ends. This is my fate. What have I to live for, anyway?''

Gale was still breathing, even though he should've been long dead. ''I guess it's true what they say. We really are just dust in the wind.'' With a choking cough of his own blood, which poured down the sides of mouth, any life that was still in his eyes left him. The Kitsune finished eating Gale's liver before she was given a frightening shock of 130 volts from behind. She kneeled over, as the cold MTF looked down at her and the foxy lady's victim. Grabbing some wires, he wrapped her hands and feet together, adding a muzzle to top it all off. He gripped his radio, a husky voice spoke. "SCP nine-five-three has been detained. Returning to temporary containment cell, over." As the man tossed the monster over his shoulder, he glared down at Gale's disemboweled body and noted the most peculiar thing: in all his days of working at the Foundation, he had honest-to-god never seen someone with a smile on their face after they died.

Creepy. thought the trooper as he went off.

--Tremor (talk) 22:00, August 17, 2013 (UTC)

Nothing, all white from as far as the eye can see. But there was something notable in the distance. Following, Gale found that it was a man in black garbs and a kitsune over his shoulder. He followed the black-garbed man until he stopped before a similar and a small building. The man threw the kitsune in the building and closed it. He then said to the other man,

"Found this little shit tearing up an MTF unit. I think he's dead, but I saw some other guy, and he was sort of mumbling, though he's probably another dead one-"

Gale screamed at the man to go back for Lander, but he heard nothing out of his mouth. He begged and cried because he had failed his friend and now he was left to watch as his best friend would bleed to death. And yet, out of the pure chance, the other man said in reply,

"Are you kidding me? Come on, we need to check up on those guys. Maybe we can finally get 212 put to the test on that 953 victim, eh?"

--Ltn Vasquez, officially Technical Sergeant Jeffrey &#91;REDACTED&#93; (talk) 04:18, August 19, 2013 (UTC)

Wilson realized that the charred researcher was Basil after his short explanation and, after a few seconds of thought, recognized the doctor's silver hair. It was Dr. Baton who was carrying him. Wilson looked down, seeing his exposed, steaming chest and scarred  pants. But he noticed something in his charred ammo pouch connected to his belt. A flat ,melted tootsie roll, the one Lavrov gave him a few hours ago. It was practically glued to the walls of his pouch by it's own material and the paper wrappings were simple scraps and ashes, but someone could get it out if they really wanted to.

Realizing from Basil's speech that wherever the hell they were going, it was going to be dangerous. He knew this little expedition would be hard against a small band of wounded men and they were need in the least bit weaponry. Even though the knowing that the melting would most likely change it's effect and not knowing, nor caring who would use it, he choked out a sentence. 'Baton.... m-my pocket....explosive y-yet delicious w-weapon.....'

--Fireworks888 (talk) 06:46, August 20, 2013 (UTC)

Lander had awoken with a jolt. He was laying down in the corner of what appeared to be an elevator. He attempted to get up but his body refused to cooperate. From where Lander was sitting, he could see the body of a dead MTF at the opposite end of the elevator. From the looks of it, he did not have a quick death. His entire front body was ripped opened and his liver, kidneys, and stomach were all ripped out. Pieces of his rib cage were scattered all across the floor and a piece of his esophagus was sticking out of his throat.

''Jesus, what the hell happened to that guy? Who was he anyway?'' Despite not being able to move, Lander could still make out his ID tag on the upper right of his body. He had to quint in order to be able to read what it said.

Master Sergeant Gale, Mobile Task Force Delta-7.

Lander immedietly froze. His eyes went wide as he stared at the tag.

No......no, it can't be! Lander started to crawl over to the other side of the elevator to get a better look at the soldier. He ripped the IFF tag off of the body's side and inspected it. There was no missing it. This was Gale's armor, this was Gale's IFF tag. This. Was. Gale. One of his only friends throughout his entire time while working in the Foundation, was dead.

Lander couldn't help it, his eyes had begun to water and he couldn't hold back any tears. He took his helmet off and simply rested there, holding Gale's remains. There were many emotions going through Lander at that moment, rage, confusion, discomfort, but most of all sadness. He was hoping to god that an SCP would just come crashing into the elevator and end his life here and now.

--

The two MTFs had begun walking back to the elevator in search of the 953 victim and the other dead soldier. When they arrived, they saw that one of the bodies had moved over to the other side of the elevator and was holding the remains of the other soldier. His helmet was off and it looked as though he had been crying for several minutes.

"Dude, is he hugging a dead body?" One of the soldiers asked.

"Trust me, it's better not to question the shit you see during a containment breach. I once saw a guy running through the facility with a toaster claiming that it was his brother." The other soldier replied.

"Wait isn't that just me? That doesn't seem out of place given my effects." The soldier was oblivious to the fact that he was talking about 426 in the first person.

"...the guy was running from a pack of flamingoes."

"Oh..."

The soldier then shrugged off that thought and went over to the dead MTF body to inspect it further.

"So you think SCP-212 will be able to do any work on this guy?"

"Maybe, no one has tried testing it with a lifeless body yet, so now's our chance."

The soldier then picked up the remains of the dead MTF, he then looked back at the other soldier who was still resting against the wall.

"What do you want to do with him?"

"Leave him, I'll call in Mobile Task Force Lambda-2 to retrieve him." After that, the two soldiers then departed.

--Dr.Mark (wall) 08:52, August 20, 2013 (UTC)

Gale smiled when he saw Lander awake. Though, he was concerned about whether he would be ok. It was then that when the MTF arrived, Gale sat down and simply waited. He wasnted nothing more, this was his peace. But then, he felt a tug in his soul, and he wasn't exactly sure as to what it was. Look up, he saw one MTF picking the physical Gale up. He got up quickly and stared in shock, he didn't want this man to be moving me around. Though, he'd heard something about 212.

He didn't want this, but he had no choice whatsoever. The MTF carried the body away into a white abyss. He wondered over the lack of anything here. There should be a facility, but only whatever that MTF touched was visible.

No matter. He walked over to Lander and sat next to him. He was ashamed for what he had done, though he supposed he couldn't help it. He sat there next to Lander and wondered if the man could even see him. He supposed not.

--Ltn Vasquez, officially Technical Sergeant Jeffrey &#91;REDACTED&#93; (talk) 17:58, August 20, 2013 (UTC)

'Baton.... m-my pocket....explosive y-yet delicious w-weapon.....'

He looked at Wilson.

"You got something in your pocket eh? Well we'll get it out soon. Just not now."

He looked at Grant. Something seems...off about this guy. But he trusts Basil. He extended his hand to Grant.

"Name's Dr.Baton. Nice to meet you."

--Baton Guy (talk) 22:54, August 21, 2013 (UTC)

The Prankster sat in the darkness for a while, listening as the humming growl grew louder in pitch. Louder, louder, louder it went. A shadow darker than any other shadow known to human comprehension began to emanate from the riddled meteorite.

Then Prankster watched as He-Who-Made-Dark lifted himself from the accursed rock, propelling himself into the air and destroying the roof of the warehouse. Of course, he existed in a 4-dimensional form, causing everything around him to shift. Impossible shapes manifested from thin air, a tree warped in the mere presence of this celestial being. Colors became psychedelic, swirling and altering in patterns similar to a lava lamp put into a microwave. Bird heads sprouted from the ground, a corpse of one of the fallen MTFs reanimated into a morbid hybrid snake-monkey, the ground turned to acid then to coal then back to acid again. Prankster giggled as time slowed and accelerated, as the very law of conservation of mass and energy became no more. Atomic explosion flashed and then vanished suddenly. But, Prankster needed to negotiate with this Lovecraftian horror. It took more concentration than normal, giving him a headache even, but Prankster managed to transfer Shadows' 4-D figure into 3-D and shrunk him down to size.

He-Who-Made-Dark was a haunting looking figure. A darker-than-dark humanoid figure, with strange tentacles and other limbs crawling at his feet, eyes and mouths all over his body. His face-- if you could call it that -- was an awful giant leviathan mouth that gaped open constantly, never moving. Inside was yet another eye. What made this one different was that the pupil didn't move, and it was an especially red colored pupil, the "whites" being yellow. The... abomination roared in distaste, obviously displeased at what the trickster god had done.

"FNQGOLQ WBNWOBN!?! BGLIRBVNK NWUDY--" the monster was cut off.

"Oh, speak English you wanker." snapping his fingers, it became so.

"HOW DARE YOU, TRICKY EARTHBOUND DEITY, GIVE ME MATERIAL FORM!"

"Come now, I just wanted to talk."

"WHY WOULD I DESIRE TO SPEAK SOME WORM!?"

"'The enemy of my enemy is my friend', as they say."

"WHAT NONSENSE DO YOU SPEW?!"

"Light-boy, your brother. He so graciously toyed with my body, possessing it and whatnot. He's never anything so low, and I won't have it happening again. I broke you out so you could... pay him a visit."

"I DID NOT NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE, FOOL, I--"

"Of course you didn't, sweetcheeks. Now, I'm not asking you to kill Lighty for me. I just want to make him suffer."

"...AS DO I."

With a burst, the ground beneath the two divine beasts crumbled as Shadows shot up into the sky. He broke the sound barrier as he launched off from where he had stood, and soon accelerated faster than light. With a loud deafening *crack!* that would be heard worldwide, He-Who-Made-Dark transcended to the divine realm. The Prankster had a look of pleasure on his face. Light was going to pay for his crimes, and who should be the one to deliver judgment than his own damned brother? He laughed a hardy laugh, and decided to play with some the Foundation folk. At least, for a while before he got back to that wussy of a guard and that fool of a scientist that Light brought back. They'll be dead, yes, but only after Prankster had some fun of his own.

--Tremor (talk) 02:26, August 24, 2013 (UTC)

Basil watched Grant and Baton shake hands. But then, he began feeling even weaker. He started sweating, and nervously took a gulp of his coffee. He felt his sides, and notices that he was thinner than he had ever been. "What's happening?", he thought.

He shook it off.

"Come on. Let's get going."

--Phantasmagorian (talk) 03:48, August 26, 2013 (UTC)

Gale was just starting to fall asleep, but when he awoke with a start, he realized that he did not feel tired. He had felt a tug in his body, but he now ignored it. How much time had passed, he couldn't tell. A few hours, days? Perhaps a week or maybe a few fortnights? Time meant nothing here.

Again. Gale stood up and looked about. Nothing but Lander and the white. Suddenly his body was jerked and he fell on the ground. He lay on the white ground and simply waited, only to have his body pulled away. He tried to grab for Lander, but failed. He screamed for him, but soon he became a blip in the abyss. Minutes went and he gave up, letting the force pull him wherever it chose.

Soon, a blip, no two blips in the distance gained size.

Now three, two being the MTF, Gale could tell. The third... what was that?

SCP-212. The massive machine even looked like it had its own personality. Due to Gale's position, he couldn't see his physical self. Was it trying to revive him. Gale was suddenly jerked upwards and now he can see the physical self.

He suddenly shrieked. He didn't want this, he dared not to let this thing revive him. He struggled with this force, and when he turned for just a moment, he saw one of the arms pointing at him. It even looked like it had the face of an angry man. Gale was finally pulled onto the table. He struggled as much as he might, but nothing could be done.

The three arms somehow grabbed at his arms and kept him down. He didn't want to give up, he dared as much to be let go. And yet, he knew this thing would fight to make him live. He hated the machine.

--Ltn Vasquez, officially Technical Sergeant Jeffrey [REDACTED] (talk) 05:36, August 26, 2013 (UTC)

"All right then.

He looked at Wilson.

"You ready to go on a little adventure?"

Wilson didn't say anything.

"Party pooper."

They headed out.

"Follow me." , said Basil.

As the group walked through the hallways, Baton felt heavy thumping in his chest and a headache.

"Have you ever heard of lullabies? The songs you're sung to before the darkness plunges into your room?"

''"Why do you ask?" ''Baton said in his mind.

"What's your favorite?"

"No. Just no." Baton said in his mind.

"Oh come on. Please?"

"No." Baton said in his mind.

"Do you sing any lullabies to that precious little girl of yours?

Baton suddenly remembered 053. He forgot about her again. Suddenly he remembered the night when 053 had trouble sleeping and he went and sing her a lullaby. It was "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." After that night, he sung it to her every night. It made him very happy to see her fall asleep content. He had the sudden urge to sing it now. He sung it quietly.

"Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high. There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.

Somewhere, over the rainbow, skies are blue. And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.

Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me. Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops that's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly.

Birds fly over the rainbow. Why then, oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow. Why, oh why, can't I?"

He sighed. A single tear fell from cheek.

"Don't worry Kira. I'll be there soon.", he whispered.

--Baton Guy (talk) 00:18, August 27, 2013 (UTC)

As the group was walking, Basil thought he heard singing. He turned around, and saw Baton, quietly singing to himself, crying. Understanding, he turned back around and continued walking.

~Later~

As they were walking, Basil felt increasingly worse. He felt his stomach, and he was even thinner than before. He also felt thirst. He sipped his coffee and kept walking.

~Shortly afterwards~

At last, the group had stumbled upon the medical wing, simply by taking a few random turns. Basil stepped towards the door, then everything went dark.

--Totally not Phantasmagorian. (talk) 01:42, August 30, 2013 (UTC)

"So, how do you suppose I stop him then? He's going to willingly just jump back in the thing."

The Dealer snapped his fingers. In his hands appeared a syringe containing some sort of light purplely liquid. "This is a shot of Lazarus. It's made out of a multitude of chemicals, supernatural and natural."

"...And?"

"And it's an anti-code."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Like I said, the pranking freak is part of the code of reality. For every code, there is an anti-code. This will shut Prankster down but only for so long. You have no idea how complicated the contents of this syringe truly is. The code... truly a complex piece of work." He held the syringe up for Lavrov to see.

"What's the price?" Lavrov jumped to conclusion, knowing 738's standards.

"This is usually against our policy, but this is one is on the house." The Dealer smiled.

--

Prankster flew high above, triumphant in his victory. Soon, Light will be dead and no more party poopers for him. He scanned the Foundation sites below, searching for the scientist and the lousy guard. They're next.

--

"So I only get one shot at this?"

"Basically."

...

"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked the Dealer sarcastically as Lavrov signed the dotted line.

"It's the safest bet."

"You'll be giving up... hm, let's see, oh! three people their lives for this. I didn't even have to haggle, you just offered them right up."

"The price of the many outweigh the price of the few."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"It'll help me sleep better at night."

And with that, the Dealer was gone and Lavrov was left with himself. This was his plan, and the price, he had to put The Prankster back where he came; just like he promised.

--Tremor (talk) 02:30, August 30, 2013 (UTC)

They made it to the medical wing, but once they got there Basil suddenly collapsed on the floor.

"Basil!"

He walked over to Basil body and shook him a little. He didn't get up.

"Damn it."

He walked over to one of the medical beds and laid Wilson down. Then Baton walked back to Basil body, picked him up and put on the medical bed beside Wilson. He looked at them in disbelief.

"You can't be serious."

He then looked at the coffee cup in Basil's hand. He examined it. Then he facepalmed.

"How could I've not noticed SCP-198!? Damn me and my stupidity."

Then felt a tug in his body. Like his anger got sucked away.

"I like to ask another question."

''"Not now." ''he said in his mind.

He then looked at Grant.

"You. Since we released you from your confinement you're going to help me. I don't know why exactly Basil wanted to release you from confinement but I don't care anymore. What you need to do now is help me. Understand?"

--Baton Guy (talk) 04:28, August 30, 2013 (UTC)

Pain. Not as much as being killed by that clown, so it was, in a way, a relief. And yet, it was pain nonetheless. The screams would echo until the lungs dried out and the voice was lost in the darkness, leaving only the two men, the machine, and its victim.

So when Gale awoke to the blinding pain, there was pain, there was relief, there was anger that he may be alive again, and there was shame that he valued his life so little. There was happiness that he may see Lander, and worry of the doctor and the guard.

And then, there was pain again. The machine was relentless, and it didn't take long before Gale had passed out. His heart would have stopped, but the machine didn't seem to let that happen.

It was then that there was silence. On of the units entered to check and found Gale with scars lining his body, stitches every which way like routes on a map. And yet, he was breathing. The machine was successful, but was that a good thing?

--Ltn Vasquez, officially Technical Sergeant Jeffrey &#91;REDACTED&#93; (talk) 06:51, August 30, 2013 (UTC)

Grant fumbled with the medical supplies. He gave the doctor some gauze, and when he asked for scissors, he dropped them. They landed on the tip and stayed balanced for a few seconds before falling to the ground. The doctor looked on with astonishment, then asked, "Alright. Who, or what, are you?"

Grant shuffled uncomfortably.

"Um. That's a really good question."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, uh, I'll tell you what I know, I suppose." He paused. "A long time ago, I went down to Las Vegas to gamble. I was arrested shortly after. They said that I had 'defrauded' them, but I was just on a winning streak."

"Must have been some winning streak."

"Yeah. Anyways, I was brought here, and they tested a bunch of things on me. There was this snail thing that almost killed me several times. Then, they housed me with this really tall guy. He kept on saying that he was the King of France. Eventually, they locked me up. After moving to different cells a few times, you guys came along."

"Is that all?"

"Well, everybody always refers to me as a number."

"What number?"

"I don't remember."

--Totally not Phantasmagorian. (talk) 02:59, September 1, 2013 (UTC)

Barely conscious, Wilson tried to analyze the situation. He saw the same blond man from before, his name what he heard was somewhat 'Grant'. He didn't know him, but he must've had some good in him, healing a man he's never met. He also saw Dr. Baton from before. They both towered over him, speaking to each other and fiddling with the nearby medical tools from the cabinet. He heard Grant's explanation of his origins, though distorted, understandable. Grant seemed suspicious, but nothing very out of the ordinary knowing the Foundation and it's affiliates.

As the two men conversed with each other, Wilson tried to move his limbs. Though painful, he was able to move his right leg, the one where he was shot, and his good arm. Yet, the broken left leg and dislocated right arm were practically useless, he used his good arm to grab a scalpel from a medical jar sitting near him. Wilson, with the doctors too busy speaking to realize, stabbed the scalpel into his pocket, the one with the candy. The sharp metal point shredded through the jumpsuit's clothing, along with the hard, hot candy with it. Finally, a chunk of melted tootsie roll and a few scraps of the jumpsuit's clothing was hooked out, near Wilson's thigh, sizzling on the table.

--Fireworks888 (talk) 03:23, September 1, 2013 (UTC)

Gale screamed upon waking. He was in a bed, and darkness surrounded him. He was stripped down to pants, shoes, ...

Gale looked down and screamed once again at the thousands of scars and stitches upon his chest. He was panicking, and looking at the empty, dark room, he was downright terrified. He was unarmed, in the dark, alone...

And for the third time now, he shrieked, for the pain had returned, leaving him a writhing thing, trembling in his own agony. And when the pain had subsided, he was able to at least look up with wide, bloody eyes and beg to a false god for help. Anything.

--Ltn Vasquez, officially Technical Sergeant Jeffrey &#91;REDACTED&#93; (talk) 04:51, September 2, 2013 (UTC)

Lander hadn't realize that he had fallen asleep until he looked around the elevator and realized that Gale's body was nowhere in sight. He had a faint memory of hearing people talking but beyond that everything else was a blur.

Lander felt much better now and he was finally able to stand up. He was about to walk out into Gate A when he suddenly remembered something.

" Why, SCP-882 David. " SCP-990 had warned him that the breach was caused by....something wanting to take back that SCP. He still didn't know what SCP-882 was, he only knew that it was apparently a valuable object and that it was stored in this very Site.

Lander's first thought was to head out and warn the MTFs that SCP-882 needed to be secured right away, but as he stepped out of the elevator his mind turned to SCP-008.

''Was I still infected with it? If I head out now I might infect other people. But....I have to warn them that SCP-882 needs to be secured.'' As Lander was pondering this his radio suddenly crackled.

''Attention all Mobile Task Force members, we have encountered several Broken God members. I repeat, we have encountered Broken God members and we require immediate back up.''

''Broken God? Where have I heard that....wait, that's it!'' Lander suddenly remembered something that Gale had told him back when he was assigned to this Site.

"The most important thing about this Site is SCP-882. It's an organic machine that will attach itself to any metal it touches. Ever since the Foundation put it in containment an Organization that calls themselves the Church of the Broken God started threatening us to give them back their "God"."

That must be what they're here for, to reclaim SCP-882." Lander then turned to the elevator buttons and pressed the down arrow.

But first, I need to make sure that SCP-008 is completely out of my system for good.

--Dr.Mark (wall) 04:58, September 2, 2013 (UTC)

He noticed a chunk of melted tootsie roll and a few scraps of clothing on the table.

"Ah. This was the thing you were telling me earlier that was in your pocket. The heck is it anyway? Actually, nevermind. I'll figure it out later. Let's get you fixed up."

After some time passed, he finished treating the burn wounds. Wilson body was wrapped up in gauze with his clothing lying on the ground next to him.

"Alright. I'm done. I don't recommend getting up yet. Just stay lying down."

Then he walked over to Basil. A solemn look came over him. He sighed.

"Damn. I don't think there's anything I can do for you Basil."

"Not really."

"Explain.", he said in his mind.

"The Darkness can help him. We can separate the bond between him and that cup."

"Will anything happen to him?", he said in his mind.

"There's a chance that he'll be infected with the darkness."

He was stricken with grief. He had to make a choice. Either to infect Basil with the Darkness, or let him die.

"''Isn't there any other way?" ''he said in his mind.

"No. Be infected or die."

He didn't want to see Basil turn into what he is now. He didn't want him to suffer. But he didn't want him to die either.

''"No. I refuse. I will find another way. I will." he said in his mind.''

"Don't worry Basil. I'll find a way. I promise."

--Baton Guy (talk) 05:58, September 2, 2013 (UTC)

--Totally not Phantasmagorian. (talk) 19:45, September 2, 2013 (UTC)

Lander was running through the hallways of Light Containment in search of the Medical Wing. It was one of the only places in the facility that he never went to, even when he was on patrol duty. He had only been there once during his time at this Site when he had gotten injured during a Chaos Insurgency attack a few months ago.

"Seriously, why is the layout of this facility so confusing? Can't they put up some maps on the walls or something?" Lander then suddenly tripped on what appeared to be a dead body, or what felt like a dead body at least since he couldn't even see it.

It was at this point Lander had noticed that the emergency lights in the Site were off, which didn't make much sense since the backup generators can last up to weeks, and it's not like the generators had an off switch.

As Lander was pacing through the hallways he suddenly heard a person scream not too far away from his current position. The screaming went on for about 10 seconds, until it suddenly stopped and was replaced by a person who appeared to be speaking a language that Lander did not recognize.

Lander began heading in the direction of the man's voice when he suddenly lost control of his entire body and fell to the floor.

" Oh hey, you're going to the Medical Wing? Funny coincidence, I also need to go there to. Here, let me show you the way. Also, several of your friends are there to, how about we throw them a surprise party? "

--Dr.Mark (wall) 04:29, September 7, 2013 (UTC)

Wilson simply laid there on the table. His burnt vest and bile soaked pants were off, next to him by the desk, and the pain of his cooked and crippled body was slightly lifted from the doctor's attention. He was in a shell of medical gauze, covering up his entire body besides maybe a scrap here and of course a large hole for his eyes. He felt stupid, a mummy in a sarcophagus that looked completely ridiculous, but looks didn't matter. Though itchy, it was much better than burnt tactical rubber. He analyzed the room yet again. Grant was standing next to him, and Dr. Baton was crouching over someone. It was Roberts.

Wilson couldn't think of why he was on the ground, but suddenly, Wilson's attention directed to the door. A sight that made him feel like he was just kamikazed by emotions. There, in which a man who just flung into the frame...was Lander. Wilson didn't know what to feel. Should he feel shock for someone who was just executed stood only a few meters from him? Should he feel relief that a good man joined the group? Or should he feel fear that he could be a full 008-1? He just didn't know. A cooling down, yet steamy bullet wound was still lodged into the very peak of his forehead. Blood flowed down his face and dripped onto the ground. Wilson let out a clear yell that stung his gauze covered throat. "LANDER?!"

--Fireworks888 (talk) 04:42, September 7, 2013 (UTC)

He'd passed out, and upon waking, he stood up unsteadily and looked about. Nothing. Just beds. Everywhere. Looking about, he suddenly realized that it was dark, yet he could see light. In all the emptiness of the room, he'd failed to see the windows. He walked to it and looked out into the land. Trees was all he saw. And a moon. A bright, full moon. Why this window was here, he couldn't even fathom. Maybe for the patients health?

He looked down and got a full look at his chest. Stitches and scars. Yet, he was grateful the pain was not as bad as he expected. In a way, it had helped him forget what happened before.

And then there was Lander. He needed to see him, and yet he was unarmed down to just a pair of pants. He tried to search for his clothing and weapons, even a knife would do.

Nothing. He then tried to get out, but saw the lock on the door. But why?

Gale felt dread. He was locked in a massive room, and whoever did this must have done this for a reason. He felt the strength go out of his legs and he slid down onto the ground. He lay there and stared at the massive chamber that was the Medical Wing.

--Ltn Vasquez, officially Technical Sergeant Jeffrey &#91;REDACTED&#93; (talk) 05:32, September 7, 2013 (UTC)

" YES! NOW CAN YOU SEE IT? THEY WANT TO SEPARATE US, THEY WANT TO KILL ME! DON'T LET THEM TAKE AWAY WHAT'S RIGHTFULLY YOURS!!! "

Lander immediately ran up and pounced on Baton.

" YES BROTHER DO IT! CLAIM HIM AND WE CAN START A WHOLE NEW FAMILY! "

--Dr.Mark (wall) 05:47, September 7, 2013 (UTC)

He heard somebody yell "LANDER?!" and all of a sudden he was pounced on by somebody.

"WHAT THE HELL? GET OFF OF ME!"

"YOU ARE A FOOLISH MAN!"

He struggled to get the man off of him. He kneed the man's abdomen and then kicked him off. He stood up and grabbed a scalpel to defend himself in case the man retaliate.

"What's the hell is wrong with you!?!? You're acting batshit crazy right now!!!"

--Baton Guy (talk) 22:44, September 7, 2013 (UTC)

" YOU THINK I'M BEING EVIL? THERE IS NO GOOD AND EVIL, THERE IS ONLY POWER AND THOSE TOO WEAK TO SEEK IT! "

"Shut up. Shut Up! SHUT UP!!!"

Lander recovered quickly from the blow and immedietaly dashed towards the man with hysterical strength. The man raised the scalpel in his arm and attempted to puncture the crazed man's neck. Lander grasped his right wrist, with the scalpel mere inches from his neck.

Lander pushed him up against the nearest wall and moved his head to the side until it was pratically touching the man's left shoulder.

"G-get SCP-500 you fucker!"

Lander then threw him over to the adjacent wall.

--Dr.Mark (wall) 01:35, September 12, 2013 (UTC)

He waited and waited, he knew that whatever creature that he had been locked in with would be potential lethal. He tried to stand, but the strength was all but gone. So he waited until he heard the sound of clicks.

Click, click, click, click

He gazed, wide-eyed into the darkness, the clicking becoming louder and louder.

And in the darkness, a large, black canine appeared, its bright and glowing orange eyes prominent in the black of the fur. Click click went its paws as it approached Gale. It stopped in front of Gale, who was somewhat confused and terrified, and looked right to find a locked closet, left to double doors leading to further rooms, and front where the locked door Gale had attempted to escape through. It then sat down and watched Gale.

"Er... hello there, boy" Gale said hesitantly at the creature. It didn't respond, so he pulled himself to a sitting position and stared back into the bright, orange glow. Outside, he heard shouts, but his concentration was on the strange creature that had been locked here. nothing more to do. He didn't think the canine understood what he said, but he decided to give a try. Instead of asking something logical, he decided to use a pass question that no one, even himself, could ever understand besides 05 command.

"Canine, does the black moon howl?"

It actually had a look of bleakness, but Gale couldn't tell at this. Silence reigned once again, and yet Gale felt safe.

--Ltn Vasquez, officially Technical Sergeant Jeffrey &#91;REDACTED&#93; (talk) 04:40, September 13, 2013 (UTC)

Lavrov down the hallways, the blaring sirens gone, imposing an ominous surrounding as the doctor was left with nothing but himself and his thoughts. Site-82's sublevel was some time away and he needed to act quickly. Before Lavrov signed the Dealer's contract, the salesman, a master of his craft, informed him of Prankster's escape from the Lucifer Sigil he had bound him in. Now he was out causing havoc God-knows-where. He needed to stop it before it did more harm than could be repaired. And as he trotted down the hallways, all he think about was hos the silence disturbed him more than those ear-piercing sirens did.

It was two hours and a half or some time thereabouts when Lavrov finally reached the door to the basement of Site-82. Inserting his keycard, the large blast doors cracked opened and split apart. His way to Site-82's sublevel lab gave him many insights on what horrors laid further in the depths of this hellhole he called his livelihood. He saw as a speeding orange thing ripped to shreds some poor soul on the other side of a glass window, the fighters of monsters being eaten slowly by a seemingly decrypted old woman, how a room filled with ink and the chucks of men and women alike floated amongst it.

Looking down the chairs, Lavrov gulped. This was suicide, yes, but his life on the whole wasn't significant enough for the higher-ups to be concerned about it. That was okay with Lavrov. The problem wasn't that death awaited; the problem was, what does something like Prankster do to people who chain it up? Nothing good, he supposed.

"I hope this works." Lavrov mumbled.

"It's the only thing we can do. Don't worry." he said to himself.

"Thanks."

. . .

Prankster held his sides out of laughter, watching the unfortunate Foundation workers floating in what used to be a building now-turned into a jello cup. Prankster did an eight figure in the sky, filling the air with a morbid sense of humor. This was the most fun he had in years! How could he possibly pass it up?

Then he heard a familiar voice. "Come and get me, Joker!" He turned his head and his smiling face became a pinched-up sour face.

--

Lavrov waited with uncertainty in front of the huge metallic box dubbed as SCP-699. His gripped the Tootsie-pop of death in his palm, which was uncomfortably sweaty mind you. With a poof, Prankster was there. The two stared at each other. This was the final lap of the race.

--Tremor (talk) 23:51, September 13, 2013 (UTC)

Gale suddenly realized that it had no name, or at least none that he knew of. The canine had no collar, which was no surprise. He began to go through a list of names for such a creature, but came out as known.

"Hey, you have a name..." he stopped, he didn't even know what sex it was. He thought to check, but thought better of it. In fact, looking at the bright orange eyes, he saw an cold, feminine look to those orange and red eyes. He suddenly remembered a book he read on the Middle Ages of Europe.

"Obscurum, is your name Obscurum?"

It responded this time by raising its head slightly in a regal pose. This time, Gale rose up and was able to stay on his feet. He looked from the canine to the door.

"Don't suppose you know a way out, Obscurum?"

--Ltn Vasquez, officially Technical Sergeant Jeffrey &#91;REDACTED&#93; (talk) 04:37, September 14, 2013 (UTC)

He didn't hesitate. He ran to SCP-500 as soon as he got the chance. Problem is, he didn't know where it is. The man has clearly gone insane and some problems might occur back there if he doesn't find SCP-500 soon. Then he remembered the last place he saw it. He ran through hallways and hallways until 3 minutes later he saw it. He grabbed the can and headed back to the medical wing. Then he felt something odd. Like he was feeling sluggish and numb. He pressed on to the medical wing. He could hear the Darkness laughing.

"A foolish man who tries to avoid his fate ends up with punishments. And the punishments may include the death of your loved ones. You can't escape your fate. You can't escape the Darkness. Stop resisting."

Hopefully nothing bad is happening at the medical wing. He hurried on.

--Baton Guy (talk) 01:27, September 15, 2013 (UTC)

" WHAT? YOU THINK THAT GIVING ME A PILL WILL GET RID OF ME? I WON'T LEAVE MY PLANS UNFINISHED. ONCE YOU KILL A COW YOU GOTTA MAKE A BURGER! "

Lander then turned to walk out of the room when he spotted a man covered in gauze lying on a table.

" Oh look food! We can take for the trip. "

Lander then proceeded to rush towards the man.

--Dr.Mark (wall) 21:54, September 20, 2013 (UTC)

Wilson peered in complete shock as Lander and Dr. Baton fought. After learning that the latter of Wilson's emotion display was correct, he tried to get up to assist Baton in return. But he knew he was in no condition to fight. Though the fight was quickly over, it ended differently than what Wilson imagined. As Baton scurried out of the wing in search of the pill, Lander twisted around.

The crazed, violent officer then faced towards Wilson, where he saw through his cracked, bloody visor. A pair of crazed, bloodshot eyes stared back into Wilson's own. "L-Lander? It's me! LANDER!" Wilson yelled, trying to talk sense into the soldier. But before he knew it, Lander dashed at Wilson almost unseeably fast like a rabid animal. The MTF grabbed Wilson by his gauze and tried to rip into his stomach with his bare hands. Wilson yelped and exclaimed as he used his one good arm to fight back. However, the crippled guard was no match for Lander's insanity fueled strength. "GRANT!" he pleaded while grunting, trying to avoid Lander's attack "HELP!"

--Fireworks888 (talk) 22:22, September 20, 2013 (UTC)

When he got the medical wing, he saw the crazed man on top of the guard wrapped in guaze. He charged at the man but the man noticed and charged towards him. The man was very strong and easily knocked Baton onto the floor. The man immediately slammed his foot onto Baton's chest and Baton yelled in pain. The man kicked the can out of Baton hands and the pills scattered all over the floor. The man pressed his foot against Baton's chest even harder, his ribs almost crushed.

"NOW! NOW IS THE TIME TO CHOOSE! JOIN THE DARKNESS NOW OR DIE!"

He struggled to free himself from the man's crushing foot.

"CHOOSE!"

He had no choice. He wasn't going to die this way. It's time to accept the Darkness.

"Good. You'll see that there's nothing wrong with accepting the Darkness. Nothing."

He felt a great surge of strength arising in him. Black wispy smoke appeared from his body. His eyes turned yellow. He grabbed the man's foot, pushed it off his chest, and kicked him away. He got up quickly and grabbed a pill. The man charged at him again. Baton quickly jabbed him in the hip, elbowed him in the face, and grabbed his throat. He pushed the pill down his throat and forced him to swallow it. The man fell to floor.

"See what happens when you allow the darkness into your heart? You become a powerful being. After all, you are the Bringer of Darkness."

"I am the Bringer of Darkness. The one who will drown the world in darkness. Hehehehehe... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

He laughed wildly. Like he's gone completely mad.

--Baton Guy (talk) 22:22, September 28, 2013 (UTC)

Once again, Lander was surrounded by darkness. The cold, chilly feeling of being alone and helpless filled him yet again. However at this point he was use to it. After being infected with 008, getting shot in the head, and surviving whatever the fuck was going on in his head, you get use to things like being alone.

As Lander was pondering all this, a familiar red glow emitted from the black void.

" So, was it worth it? "

"Huh?" Lander said.

" Was it all worth it. You know, surviving all this madness just to get rid of me? "

"What do you mean?"

" Think about it, it's not like once you get rid of me the madness will be over. This is only the beginning. "

"Beginning of what?" Suddenly a string of red resembling a finger appeared and placed itself on Lander's mouth.

" Shhhh...I won't give away any spoilers. But know this, your journey is far from over. There is still a lot for you to discover and a lot for you to experience. " The finger then disappeared.

" However, I do suppose it's only fair if I give you a hint. After all I did control your body for a while. "

"Hint for what?" Lander asked.

" That's for you to find out. Anyway, you should remember the following numbers. Eight-Eight-Two and One-One-Two-Two. "

With that the figure disappeared and was replaced with a bright light that seemed to draw Lander in.

For once in his life, Lander felt....happy.

--Dr.Mark (wall) 01:05, October 1, 2013 (UTC)

A twinkle had shone in the eyes of the canine, and just as suddenly as it had arrived, it walked away swiftly to a storage closet.

"Wait, HEY!" he yelled after it. He ran and opened the door entirely, and yet it had disappeared. All there was in the room was cleaning supplies, batteries, a fire extinguisher-

Gale glanced back to the fire extinguisher, then noticed the side of it where a fire-ax hung. He took this idea and begun by ripping off a strip of shirt, then wrapping it about his hand. He then smashed the glass and grabbed the ax, smiling at the returning strength. He walked out and headed for the wooden double doors. This was his chance. He aimed at the hinges, hoping to break them apart, and swung.

CLANG!

The result was shaking arm and an unscraped hinge. He tried again, and again, but only came with a bruised arm. At this point, he was pissed. That canine had cheated him, and now he would rot here. Without warning, he swung the ax and threw... where? He didn't know. H fell, and only as he sat did he hear the loudest crack. He got to his feet and looked to the window. It was then that he was able to think better.

The ax had pierced halfway through the glass, and now the window leaked midnight air. And at that thought, he wondered as to why he can see the moon. Shouldn't he be underground?

It finally occurred that this medical wing was the supposed "cover" for this Site. He walked over to the ax and pulled it out. The glass that held on fell it pieces. He then pulled back and swung again at the glass. At this, it shattered into millions of gleaming slivers of moonlight.

Gale pulled himself over the window into the freezing air with only the patient's apparel to cover himself. And yet, it was enough. He had noticed this before and had tied it completely around his waist. Walking about in the frigid grass, he sighted a light, dozens. This was it, he began his trek to the Mobile Task Force site that had stationed itself just outside the site.

--Ltn Vasquez, officially Technical Sergeant Jeffrey &#91;REDACTED&#93; (talk) 03:39, October 1, 2013 (UTC)

As the cloud of smoke coated a now insane Baton like a sweater of pure darkness, Wilson watched as the demonic doctor tilted it's head towards Grant. In a flash of smoke, Baton vanished like a magician and almost instantly reappeared in front of blonde man. Not only did what ever highed him give him strength, it gave him teleportation as well. Wilson then looked at the pile of charred rubber he called clothes next to him. Thank god of all the things to survive the burning clutches of that damned barbeque room was Wilson's shoulder mounted radio. With his one good arm, he yanked the crisped communication caller off of his suit by it's clip, flicked a switch, and turned it on.

Sounds of glass vials shattering against the ground and wooden desks flipping over flooded the room, seemingly Baton beating the hell out of Grant. "H-H-Hello? HELLO? C-can anyone hear me? This is security unit W-Wilson." he muttered into the radio.

"I'm at the Light Containment hospital. Doctor Baton is.... j-just please come over here if you can."

--Fireworks888 (talk) 05:51, October 1, 2013 (UTC)

The jester flung his head back in mania. "You think that old thing--" pointing to the huge box behind Lavrov, "is going to catch me off guard again? That's too funny!" Prankster held his gut for a moment, bending over in manic laughter. Lavrov swung his arm, lollipop ready, and as he went to toss--

Prankster was in front of him, snatch his arm and squeezing the ulna and radius bones until they broke. Lavrov yowled in agony, dropping the lollipop from his hand. Prankster reacted faster than Lavrov's mind could even process. "Nothing good could come to me even with whatever that little sucker could have done. So, I stopped your little parade."

"Now, I think it's time I thank for that trap you put me in. Really, it was a good plan... if only I were capable of dying might your life have been spared this upcoming torture." Lavrov looked into Prankster's eyes, penetrated with fear. "Oh no, I won't kill you. I'll do you one better." Prankster extended his hand, opened it, and pointed toward Lavrov.

And no longer could he see.

Lavrov grabbed at his face, the burning of what could only be described to as acid in them. He scratched and clawed, trying to stop whatever was coming into his eyes when really it was all mental-work by the Prankster himself. The edges of Lavrov's eyes were that of an infectious brown, coupled with the bubbling and disintegrating spots in his eyes. The spots became bigger and bigger until the doctor's eyes were no more. Yet he was screaming still. Where normally Lavrov would be dead, The Prankster, through his power, kept him alive. Lavrov pleaded for him to make it stop but that, in Prankster's mind, was just too simple. He would suffer, repent for his crimes against the All-Mighty Jester.

As Lavrov took a tentative step forward, his leg shattered like brittle. Another one of The Prankster's tricks; Lavrov's legs were now supported by dead sponge instead of bone. Lavrov yelled in torment, as the bone broke backwards and splintered his calf. With the other leg he tried to get up, only to have that leg break as well. Dead, hard sponge also wasn't the most pleasant thing to have shoved into your flesh, especially when the point stabbing you is splintered like a broken branch. Blind and crippled, Lavrov methodically crawled, trying to give flight from the Beast. It was to no avail.

Suddenly, his organs began to rupture and rip apart. Giant-pincinered bugs left Lavrov's lungs and stomach and bowels, just to creep out of Lavrov's mouth, eyeless sockets, ears, and even rectum. It was the worst feeling in the world, having those bugs bite your innards and not being to alleviate the pain by scratching them, feeling the poison somehow still coursing through your body that panged thrice times more than the bites themselves, and the swelling-- oh, the swelling was the worst part. The clammy, awful feeling of your mouth, your rectal pathway, your ears, even his eye sockets closing up on you. It is indescribable in words to truly explain it.

With a snap, Lavrov was on his feet again and in one piece. Lavrov's mind was-- still is-- on the brink of madness. The pain was nightmarish, like the Devil himself was passing judgment on the poor feeble doctor. As Lavrov continued to stare to the ground on his knees, he began to feel hot. Very hot. Then it was boiling.

Lavrov jumped in terror as his blood literally boiled, being superheated by that monster. He could see his once blue veins now glowing with red-hot horror. Then it burned through his skin. His flesh began to peel off, from his arms, to his face, to his "nether parts", and Lavrov felt every monicum of pain. He watched as his flesh oozed off bone like cheese from a freshly cooked pizza. The searing pain became too much for the pathetic Lavrov. His face looked like a muscle mannequin from a high school biology class, red and skeletal. What remained of Lavrov flopped down with a mushy, meaty sound on top of his seared skin.

And with another snap, Lavrov was back up. He couldn't take it. It was too much. Prankster had been laughing at all of his twisted, hellish jokes the entire time, embracing his sadistic personality. He pushed Lavrov ten meters back into the large metal container, his hand choking the mortal.

"Did you think this was going to be a forgiving experience? I vowed to torture you, and not even death will interfere with that much. After all, there was no one way you could've escaped this payment of yours."

Prankster was suddenly tapped on his shoulder. When he turned, he could hardly believe what his eyes were showing him. It was another Dr. Orion Lavrov.

"Actually, I did." And with that, Lavrov jabbed the needle into the monster's neck and injected the Lazarus. Prankster's eyes instead of glowing this time, turned into a milky black over his pupils.

--Tremor (talk) 21:30, October 1, 2013 (UTC)

Everything had happened so fast. One man bursting in and trying to kill everyone, then Baton shoving a pill down his throat and turning into a basket-case with incredible power. Grant had simply watched from afar, too stunned to say anything or make any actions. Fortunately, the man from before hadn't noticed him, but unfortunately, Baton(?) had.

Baton looked at him with eyes that weren't his own and charged. Just before reaching him, Grant dodged out of the way with surprising agility. Baton threw a punch, and Grant ducked. Baton then tried smashing a table over Grant's head, but he elegantly shoulder-rolled out of the way and stood up, right in front of Basil.

Infuriated, Baton went to tear out Grant's gonads, but he leapt out of the way. Despite this, Baton's hand entered flesh, broke bone, and grasped a pulsating lump. Blinded with rage, he tore it out of its cavity and held it above his head. When Grant saw the beating human heart in Baton's hand, his face turned a ghostly white. It got even whiter when he heard the resultant scream.

-- If the gods admins tell you to sing, then by God's big toenail you will sing for them!  Don't play with the lights.  ( talk ) 06:22, October 3, 2013 (UTC)

He could feel the blood dripping onto his head as he held the heart above him like a prize. A mad grin came across his face.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! A soul has been claimed and now I feast!" he said in a demonic voice.

He crushed the heart and it turned into a black smoke. He absorbed the smoke and licked his lips.

"Mmm... delicious. Soon all of the souls will be mine. And soon the whole world will be covered in darkness."

He looked around the room.

"Who's next?"

--Baton Guy (talk) 17:50, October 5, 2013 (UTC)

Lander had woken up to that familiar feeling of the linoleum floor. He had awoken many times on this kind of floor, but only this time did he actually take a moment to feel the linseed oil on the thickly coated canvas backing. Lander had no idea why he was taking notice of this now. Maybe it was because this floor was actually heated, or that his body felt well-rested, or the fact that a horrible evil had been lifted from his mind.

Right now Lander could feel the pill working its magic, his deep and gaping wounds being covered up, the pools of blood inside his armor disappearing, and the bullet which was lodge in his cranial cavity disappearing like limestone reacting with water.

This feeling was short lived as Lander heard an ear piercing scream which caused his upper body to jump up involuntarily. The site in front of him made his eyes go wider than ever before. Right before him, he saw Basil's body lying on the floor, with Baton leaning over the lifeless body hold a heart.

The heart almost immediately turned into smoke which Baton absorbed.

"Mmm... delicious. Soon all of the souls will be mine. And soon the whole world will be covered in darkness."

Baton then looked around the room.

"Who's next?"

Lander then instinctively turned around and crawled behind cover. The pill still hadn't finished healing his body so he couldn't stand up yet, but this was the best cover he could get at the moment.

--Dr.Mark (wall) 02:02, October 9, 2013 (UTC)

For the third time that day, Basil suddenly awoke. However, there was an enormous hole in his chest, and Baton stood in front of him, holding a human heart. The heart dissolved, and it merged with Baton. Basil let out a scream, the likes of which the men in the room had never heard before.

The pain in his chest was unbearable. He attempted to stand, but collapsed onto the floor. He then saw an MTF guy crawling around. Eventually, he gathered himself and stood up. The men looked on with astonishment as he started turning purple, having zero blood circulation whatsoever. He looked at Grant, then around the room, then wheezed, "I'm not sure how much longer I'll be conscious, but...someone needs to know this." He thought for a moment, then chuckled to himself. "Lucky I'm still awake."

Basil then limped beside Grant. He leaned on his shoulders, whispered something in his ear, and then passed out.

-- If the gods admins tell you to sing, then by God's big toenail you will sing for them!  Don't play with the lights.  ( talk ) 09:11, October 10, 2013 (UTC)

RP's dead. -- Dr.Mark