Deconstruction Of A God - SCP Foundation

In the heart of Three Portlands, there was a rip in the fabric of reality. To most that frequented its streets, it was nothing but silent; to those who were willing to Listen, however, it was as loud as the howl of a hurricane.

Crawling out of the gateway, the thing that had once been Felicity Baudin blinked twice and stretched its limbs. It had truly missed having hands.

The first thing that caught its eyes was the blinding sunlight that illuminated the streets all around it. Truth be told, the being didn't quite remember the last time it had seen the sun. The wind too, it reckoned, was quite the novelty. Were it not for the fact that it knew it had a mission here, it might have even stopped to enjoy both.

Alas, the creature thought, it couldn't afford rest if it wished to once again come back together; the form it had been given was sufficient enough for its goals (and frankly quite pleasant in its beauty), but the mind that plagued it was fractured. It felt a longing toward the rest of its being. It knew of its burial deep beneath the Factory, where all of the essence that had made Queen Mab sat chained away, rotting for eternity.

It knew it needed to reunite with itself and break away from its prison no matter the cost. For that, it needed a true vessel — one that could handle and express its magic talent well. One that also wasn't this putridly human — after all, to remain within such a rotting mortal carcass was all but an insult to a being like her.

With a slow step and heavy growl, the spirit of Queen Mab, now trapped inside the body of an utterly talentless anartist hack, slowly began its journey through the city.

Sofia Haugen hated Three Portlands.

It was loud, it was dirty, and worst of all, it was a monument to capitalism. Every single one of its streets dripped with that disgusting, oozing feeling of sucking off whoever was ready to pay the city council a bigger sum. Prometheus Plaza was a lazy excuse for Prometheus Labs to feel special; Anderson Street was a similarly pathetic attempt at satisfying the city's resident James Bond Villain; and don't even get her started on Darke Alley.

To Sofia, Three Ports was a putrid little thing; a city long dead, the illusion of its life only maintained by the fact its citizens had nowhere else to go. She fucking hated it. At least Eurtec was honest about its own facade.

Worst yet, tonight she was stuck in the middle of that rotting carcass, waiting for the one thing she really did not want to call off: a date.

She sighed, and checked her watch again. 18:21. Twenty-one minutes after the agreed-upon hour.

She kind of expected it, really. The first time she and Katie met was far from perfect (it was Sofia's fault), but the simple fact the other woman couldn't just say she didn't want to come if she didn't want to come irked her the wrong way. But, oh well, what could you do.

With no other real choice left, Sofia turned her sight to the shitshow hapenning before her.

If you were willing to ignore the fact it was literally built upon slave labor (and the monumental audience gathered around its racing track seemed to be more than willing), the Carter Coloseum was quite the sight to behold. Sure, it was also a monument to capitalism — this time an even more blatant one — but at least this one looked good.

"Racing for Portlands" — the event that the stadium had to endure today — was lazy: both in idea and execution. Everyone knew that the race was just a ridiculous facade put up by the wealthiest of Three-Portians (Three-Portlandians? Whatever. Sofia didn't care) to maintain a good image after that whole human trafficking thing from a few years ago. Worst yet, it was sponsored by all of the biggest companies from around town, a fact that was made abundantly clear by all the private company lounges mounted around the stadium.

They all looked like shit.

Anderson Robotics (needlessly flashy; it tried too hard to be cool); Marshall, Carter & Dark (the design had too much purple to forgive Iris, even though she was a ten); Valravn (who even allowed mercenaries to participate?); Greazeburger (it was awful (just as all things Greazeburger) but it caught Sofia's attention most; the person she was supposed to be meeting was one of its staff, so if there was any place Sofia could notice her it was near the lounge).

But it wasn't all bad. Each of the vehicles standing ready at the beginning of the race looked exactly like what you'd expect random participants to scrap together. They were barely-standing freakshows on not-always four wheels, their makeups only vaguely akin to cars. As much as she hated almost everything about the event, Sofia had to admit the cars were neat (and were also cool to see in Three Ports; normal circumstances wouldn't allow them in the city, but for the sake of the race, they were let in). At least the report she was planning on sending to her editor wouldn't be too boring.

She glanced back up at the Greazeburger lounge, as if expecting a miracle, but noticed nobody she could recognize as Katie. She sighed, and shot her watch another glance. 18:23. Seven minutes until the race would begin — and a subjective eternity since her date was supposed to.

If there was one thing that Queen Mab loved when she was still alive, it was crowds — and the Carter Coloseum was nothing but a crowd.

The first few steps she took in her new body were awkward. They felt wrong, as if her mind still had trouble accepting it didn't inhabit a nearly-omniscient demigod. It took too many moments to get the hang of it again, but when she did, Mab found that her new form wasn't really all that bad. It was young and capable (even if it could do little but copy), and she needed seldom more aside from magical talent to take over the world. To acquire what this body lacked, she thought, this one would do great.

She entered the stadium and blinked twice, instantly beginning the search for a worthy vessel.

Without a second's thought, she immediately discarded everyone that was sitting in the actual seats meant for the audience. It was very clear they were plebians, nothing but numbers whose sheer size was there to indicate the wealth of whoever actually ran the show. The lounges above them, though, were perfect; it didn't take a genius to see they were meant for the real audience. The one who wasn't here just for the bread and circuses.

The one that would be worthy to host someone like Queen Mab.

Between them, Mab saw, one lounge stood out. It was everything but humble; its purples and sheer size were very clearly meant to indicate that it belonged to the people that owned this place whole. The way that the pale, dark-haired beauty that stood atop its balcony carried itself all but confirmed that feeling.

Mab licked her lips. Yes, that one would be perfect. She could see she was a real queen, a real being of true and unfiltered Hunger. She could also see that she was a child of destiny, a being of so much power and potential it almost rivaled that of Mab herself. If there ever was a human who deserved to be her host, that one was definitely it.

Mab still needed to somehow get to her future self to be able to own her, though — and with how full the crowd was, it would be no easy task. The fact the lounge was manned by guards didn't help either. This meant Mab needed the help of another willing soul to actually reach the woman atop the balcony.

As her eyes wandered towards the stairs that led from the audience to all the lounges, she noticed someone. A young tall woman, sunglasses mounted atop her nose. She was ascending towards one of the lounges, the posture of her body beaming with frustration. She might have carried an official reporter access card around her neck, but Mab didn't need soulgazing to see what the woman really was: a wild spirit that would, if it could, rip all of this nonsense it found itself trapped in apart with its very own hands.

For a temporary vessel, Mab thought, she would do great.

There was no sight of Katie near the Greazeburger lounge, either.

Sofia sighed. If she wasn't getting a date here, she could at least use the opportunity to get back to her work. There was seldom anything her editor liked more than racing reports, and with how each of the participating cars looked, this one felt like it'd do well. Besides, it wasn't like Sofia really had any other place to choose from — as far as paranormal stadiums went, she was banned from almost all of them.

She sat on the stairs leading towards the lounges (the guards raised an eyebrow, but were clearly not paid enough to actually care) and took out her notebook.

The second she looked at all the vehicles, hoping to begin describing them, a tall woman walked into the corner of her vision.

"Oh, thank fuck," Sofia mouthed, standing up. "I was worried I'd actually have to do my jo—"

The woman that stood before her was very clearly not Katie. Not to say she wasn't lovely — with the face of Scarlet Johanson (and an actual human expression, so she was obviously not the actress) and a figure no worse, Sofia thought this one would do just as well.

"Hey," Sofia said, her tone just slightly playful. "You think I'm—"

The woman's face twisted in anger. "VESSEL." She pointed at Sofia, her finger trembling. "YOU WILL LEND ME YOUR BODY SO I CAN ACHIEVE MY GOALS."

Sofia chocked. "Whookay. You pay for dinner, though."

"YOU WILL SERVE YOUR QUEEN AS DIVINE RULE DICTATES, WORM." The woman spat out, both her eyelids twitching. "YOU WILL LEND ME YOUR BODY."

"Cool. Works for me." Sofia shrugged and came closer towards the other, already reaching for her hand. It was dead cold.

The second their palms touched, something in the woman's expression shifted from plain anger to repulsion beyond words. She immediately threw her hand away from Sofia, and jammed the already-extended finger into Sofia's chest. Sofia just grabbed her by her arm.

"YOU—"

"Hey, that also works for me."

"—WILL—"

"Bonus points for being straightforward."

"—SERVE—"

"Not something you see a lot these days."

"—ME!" She finished her shout. Within a fraction of a second, there was another rip in reality; this time, it took the shape of wind. Wind that blew right into Sofia (still anchored to the other woman by the fact she was holding her arm) and threw the two of them twenty meters forward, as if they were struck by a hurricane.

Before either could blink, they both realized they landed atop one of the cars situated at the starting line. Though each of the competing noticed, none of them really seemed to care.

Sofia mouthed, "That's hot."

Queen Mab was furious. Furious beyond words. Sure, the revelation this body could support some talent was quite a pleasant one, but she was unable to understand why that pathetic little worm refused her order — her order! Still, she tried to put it into actual speech all the same: "YOU INSINIGIFNICANT—"

Before she could finish, a shot rippled through the air not five meters behind them. She tried to locate its source, but there was a sudden shift in the location of the floor beneath her. One that, if not for the fact the other woman was holding both Mab and herself against it, would render Mab beyond its boundaries.

To the sound of engineering insanity reaching its crescendo, all of the cars went off.

Ignoring the fact both of them were now traversing the tracks at a speed rivaling that of sound, the other woman threw her head back laughing. When she opened her eyes again, they were beaming with excitement. "Holy shit! You sick, sick little—"

"YOU WILL NOT CALL ME SICK, SERVANT! YOU WILL SERVE YOUR QUEEN!" Mab tried to say, only to find her own words rendered mute by the ever-present sounds of a running engine. With curious anger in her eyes, she looked at the vehicle that supported it.

It was the most wonderful disaster anyone could ever imagine.

Still standing only by the good hopes of its creators, it technically did qualify as a car — it had all four tires and a steering wheel, but the rest was only a car by association. It looked as if someone had taken a bathtub designed by H. R. Giger and molded it into having two seats and place enough for an engine — one that ran on what appeared to be a mix of paint, lamenting souls, and petrol. Above the corpus of the machine stood a white roof (the one Mab and the other woman were now located), various abstract shapes and elements extending out of the structure.

Written atop it in constantly shifting rainbow letters was "Fuck you, and fuck the Critic too."

Before Mab could blink, there was another shift in the stability of their flooring, this time caused by a different vehicle ramming its front at the back of their car. It was sharp and silver, a black falcon engraved upon its hood — the car was sleek, good-looking, and fast. It briefly slowed down, revealing its tires were filled with spikes buzzing with lighting, and the person behind its wheel pressed a single button. From where car lights would normally be, they shot out two rockets, both targeted directly at the roof of the other machine.

"Watch out!" Sofia shouted as she threw herself atop Mab, forcing both to duck. Her vision now blocked by Sofia — and hearing rendered mute by the distant explosion of the knocked-out rockets — Mab couldn't quite see what was going on, but the repeated earthquakes in her stability made it abundantly clear their oppressor wasn't about to stop their siege.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Help us out!" Shouted one of the anartists below Sofia and Mab, immediately getting the attention of both. The disembodied voice threw something that looked like a grenade towards the roof — Sofia caught it — and immediately floored the gas.

Sofia groaned (both with pain and dissatisfaction) as she tumbled away from the other woman. The second she touched the explosive, however, her wide smile returned.

"Oh what the hell," she said as she pulled the pin. Her grin widened even more. She aimed, and threw the grenade at full strength.

The explosion that blinded them both was brilliant. A mix of red, purple, and yellow, its smoke spelled out "Down!" — even that, however, didn't prove enough of an obstacle for the car behind them. To the sound of all of Anderson's animated might, the vehicle floored its own gas too, and shot right into the rear of the anartists once more.

The explosion did little less than scratch the car's silver casing. It did accomplish something else, though; it made the rider furious.

Without as much as blinking, the figure previously seated behind them stood up and threw itself up. It faded right through the roof, now revealing all two-and-a-half meters of its whole robotic self. It was armed from bottom to top; every single of its seven hands held some other gun or knife. Worst yet, its disappearance from the cockpit didn't mean the car stopped. It kept its pace, ever so barely hanging behind the anartists, Sofia and the other woman included.

The android didn't hesitate — it immediately jumped forward, its arms ready for combat, and crossed the gap between the two cars in a single leap. To the sound of its semi-soul recalibrating to the rhythm of its artificial circuits, it turned its sight towards Sofia, then Mab.

"ADVERSARIES," it let out, and aimed its weapons at the two women. "PREPARE TO BE ELIMINATED."

Mab might not have understood everything that was transpiring before her eyes, but she was sure of one thing: the automaton that dared raise its hand against her deserved death.

Without hesitation, Mab stood up, and pointed her hand at the attacker's corpus. "DIE!" She shouted, nothing but fury present in her voice.

The fire that sprouted forth from her finger was almost blinding.

Withstanding temperature she thought equal to that of the Sun, Mab's expression suddenly changed from fury to pure ecstasy. So this body was able to express her might after all! It wasn't useless! That pure realization made all that she had endured — being trapped inside a story, needing to walk across this putrid city, and meeting up with this strange, strange woman — more than worth it. It meant she didn't need the woman atop the balcony to rule over this world — if she just got out of this confrontation alive, she would already be ready to put all of reality under her throne again.

So instead of laying low, Mab doubled the fire.

The automaton jumped right through it. Its various systems might have now been melting, four arms entirely gone, but it persisted, that steel determination to satisfy its master still present in its inanimate eyes.

"INNEFFIENT," it shouted and slashed right towards Mab. It wasn't quick enough; before its steel could reach the Queen, Sofia threw her backward.

"Are you crazy?!" she shouted as she ducked another blade. "What the fuck are you—"

"NOBODY WILL STOP ME FROM MY THRONE," Mab said, once again aiming her finger at the android. This time, the fire that sprouted forth from it wasn't an uncontained explosion — it was a precise lance of desolation, aimed exactly at the robot's head.

The android was quicker.

To the sound of the Anderson car jamming into their rear, the robot dashed forward. With one clean cut, it removed three fingers from Mab's hand, but didn't manage to complete its execution — Sofia's leg meeting its corpus rendered that impossible.

Mab didn't even flinch. Instead, she looked at Sofia, and saw what terrible potential for chaos lay inside that woman; she grabbed her by her ankle (Sofia shouted, not necessarily in opposition), and threw her right at the robot with the strength of a thousand silenced rebellions.

All three fell forward, landing on the Anderson car. The anartists — now behind them — cheered and stopped for just a second, ramming right into the front of the now-confused vehicle. This time, the impact left a nasty dent on the car of the capitalists, not the artists.

If the android had eyelids that could twitch, they would be already doing that. Instead of indulging in anger, it connected all three of its remaining arms into a single long appendage that ended in a blade, now pointed at Sofia's throat.

"YOU," it said, its voice now faltering. "SPEAK YOUR PRAYERS."

Sofia was having the time of her life.

In her time, she had been on many crazy dates (some even out of this world, literally) — but none had raised her adrenaline through the roof quite like this one. It made her almost lose her mind.

She loved every single second of it.

"Take this, Darwin's bitch!" she shouted as she threw herself right at the android. Ducking its extended blade, she kicked it right where its electronic nuts (Anderson valued nothing but realism, and the basis of this model was meant to blend in with normal humans; it was a natural choice) should be.

The reaction was immediate.

Using the temporary window of confusion, Mab extended her now two-fingered hand at their adversary, and whispered a single word of Power: "DIE!"

The world Listened.

To the sound of a single fake soul leaving for its electronic limbo, the android exploded. Well, exploded wasn't the best word — it was as if the universe itself declared the robot's existence as paramount with heresy, and imploded it from the inside of its very being.

Before Sofia could blink, it was gone. A strong breeze blew past her — whether it was spawned by the spell or the passing of the soul, she could not quite tell — and she let out a loud little laugh, basking in every single spark of glory the moment could muster.

Like she said, she was having a fucking blast.

Before she could tell the other woman she was definitely inviting her for a second date, Sofia felt something terrible beneath her feet: the Anderson car, now no longer connected to the consciousness of its late pilot, started going fucking haywire. It didn't seem to care for the previously (relatively) safe speed anymore: it just jumped back and forth, as if the final wish of its pilot was to absolutely unmake the car that rode before it.

Without even a second of hesitation, Sofia let the adrenaline override her consciousness and jumped right into the car, carrying Mab with her. Before the latter could even blink, the two found themselves seating in a semi-sentient cockpit, the hands of the former located on the steering wheel.

Noticing the confusion on the face of her inadvertent date, Sofia just grinned.

"Come on," Sofia said as she floored the gas. "We've got a race to win."

It wasn't frequent for Mab to question her judgment. But this woman — this chaotic, fucked up evil little woman — she made her doubt whether she was truly as pathetic as Mab had initially thought. Perhaps she could even make for a good servant once this was all over and the world was her once more.

So instead of opting out and taking reality for herself there and then, Mab smiled slightly, and decided she should see what Sofia's true potential was.

The other woman didn't disappoint. She might have barely had any experience behind a wheel (the irony of a sports reporter that hiperfixated on fucked up cars not knowing how to drive well didn't escape her), but she was more than an expert when it came to the only necessary trait a potential winner of the race needed to have: chaos.

With one quick motion, she grabbed the gear lever and — without even looking — pulled it with all her might.

The car shot forward like a bullet. Sofia shouted in an adrenaline-induced ecstasy. Mab shouted with the satisfaction of once again being proven right. The two anartists shouted in pure terror.

This time, the anartist car had little chance to survive the strike — before, the champion of Anderson had behaved as its master told it to: it was clean and efficient, leaving no room for messy outcomes. But the added chaos of the Queen of Unseelie and the anarchist reporter immediately overrode all previous instructions, as did the fact both of them were now pressing random buttons.

A single millisecond before the two cars met, within the eyes of the now-terrified anartists, Mab saw something she hadn't felt in so long: utter and thorough fear. Fear that was directed towards her. Towards her actions. Towards what she could do.

To Mab, that feeling bordered on the ecstasy of apotheosis.

Before she could shout out, "KNEEL BEFORE YOUR QUEEN!", the two vehicles met. The full power of the precisely-brilliant, rigid, and carefully designed engine of Anderson's own hand met the discordant drive, fueled only by the fire of passion and the unbent souls that had constructed it from magic scraps.

And to the sound of two supernovas imploding right at each other, all of subjective reality stopped existing.

The conceptual explosion that unmade the world before Sofia was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

She didn't quite understand the science behind it (and it wasn't like she wanted to), but the second the power of the two engines met, she was sure of one thing: they had the power to literally unmake their surroundings. And that they did, the chaos of the anartists ridding the rigid reality of Anderson from one layer of conception after another, until all that was left were the souls of those that piloted the cars, surrounded by impossible incomprehensibility.

Before, there were four people inside those vehicles — Mab, Sofia, and the two anartists. Now, though, five souls inhabited the conceptual non-space Sofia could only try to perceive. It was full of nonsense colors and ridiculous shapes, but the five shapes that had once been alive were more than distinct.

Sofia blinked twice, and immediately realized what was wrong: where her date had once been standing were now two spirits, one of anartist Felicity Baudid, the other of the Undoer Queen Mab.

With all that had happened today, she didn't even flinch upon coming to that conclusion. Instead, she thought she could do something infinitely more fun — something she'd only have one chance to pull off. Something she would never ever get the chance to experience again except in this infinitely long millisecond.

With a terrible Hunger festering in her guts, Sofia's soul reached towards that of Mab, and touched the essence of the Undoer with no other wish but to indulge with it whole.

The infinitesimal ecstasy she felt was indescribable. Even to someone like her — someone that had a full arsenal of journalist buzzwords at her disposal — it was beyond beauty, beyond words. But then again, she realized she didn't exactly even want to have those words — her editor would censure what she would describe the event as anyway. So instead of focusing on the details, she let herself be consumed by her lust.

Two moments later, it was all over.

To the sound of logic reminding local reality of its existence, the world remade itself, and the four figures were back on planet Earth. The cars they rode were absolutely demolished. What remained of them was scattered chaotically throughout the road. In front of them, the remaining vehicles continued their race, entirely indifferent (or perhaps unaware of) to what had just happened.

Sofia immediately took out a joint and lit it.

"Jesus fuck," she mouthed as she exhaled the smoke. With a tired but satisfied gesture, she pointed at the other woman standing before her, the joint still burning in her hand. "I'm definitely inviting you for a second date."

But there was nobody before her — not the anartists, not her date. She could see the former fleeing quickly towards the safe zones located around the tracks, but the latter was nowhere to be seen, as if she immediately left after the conclusion of their meeting (Whatever for she actually left, Sofia could only guess — but she was pretty sure it somehow involved conquering the world. Not that she really cared.).

Sofia was beginning to sense a pattern here. But instead of acting on the realization — and perhaps reflecting that meeting strangers to have magic sex wasn't the best way of getting into a healthy relationship — she just shrugged and took another drag from the joint.

Sofia had a report to write.

Mab, meanwhile, had a grave to visit.

This was written for RomCon. Big thanks to ch00bakka for lending me their character.

Project Proposal 2018-112: "Any Time, Any Place, You And Me"

Deconstruction Of A God

'The Crocosquid' (OCN39/87YUI/O9NH6)

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