The Factory is Hungry for More - SCP Foundation

~Unknown~

Barefoot and cold she ran through the halls, the cries of children echoing against the clanking of the metal machinery. An abomination of flesh and gears the Factory ground forwards. With only the tattered rags on her back and a burning desire to escape she forged on.

~The Coinmaster~

The Coinmaster strolled carefully along the gangway, his shiny black shoes meticulously placed to avoid any element of grime. A cane clacked against the rusty metal floor. He was the gear that oiled the machine: the man of finances.

Casting a cursory eye over the machines below he thought about recent profits, up from last quarter, could be improved. He had spoken to The Investor recently to talk about possibly funding a new site in Europe. The days were looking up for the Factory, the business was booming and production even more so.

He relished the raw tang of the smoke in the air. The Factory was coming back.

~Unknown~

Glancing furtively at the Foreman atop the floating walkways, she slowly edged across the rusted metal pipe. The grunting and cries of pain masking the noises she made, she opened the hatch and slipped inside. Running through the twists and turns she came to another grate, it was quiet here, too quiet in fact. She peered down into the room and almost cried out in shock, before covering her mouth tightly. At the desk, It sat, a twisted amalgamation of prosthetics, flesh and something Else, the one they called The Slaver. Here was the being that ruined her life; a seemingly friendly man at first, offering jobs to the poor and in need.

Well, her parents would never have another job now. She was only 8 when her father was torn apart by the very machine he maintained and worked with. Her mother was whipped away soon after her arrival. She itched to confront the beast but that would be suicide. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she crawled on. The beating heart of the Factory echoing around her like a prison of noise.

~The Coinmaster~

The Coinmaster sat on a chair brought by a worker; he enjoyed working to the sound of labour productivity. It allowed him to think about the intricacies of the factory. The cost of repairs was next on his list, and God knows they needed to be done. The alchemic molecular printers have needed a clean and fix for a while, he mused. That could wait whilst they get production of all goods up and running again. The Investor wouldn't be happy to halt production this soon, perhaps that should be scheduled for a months time. Next up, he looked at the page labelled "Personnel Requirements" and chuckled. Tearing it apart, as usual, he threw it over the balcony like confetti raining down onto the men below, the white and black slips quickly turning red and being crushed beneath the press of bodies.

He savoured the image, his appetite for profit growing as ideas came tumbling into his head.

~Unknown~

She watched as paper rained down on the conveyor. The creaking of the gears and grunts from the workers at odds with the cheery disposition she saw on the posters when she was younger. Hearing the sound of shoes above her head, she froze, petrified by the steady beat of the foreman's boots as they plodded along the gridded metal. Letting out her breath slowly she peeked out the grate. Seeing nothing she grabbed the pipe to her right and climbed it slowly, constantly checking down the corridor for any further movement.

~The Coinmaster~

Watching the girl climb from afar, The Coinmaster cocked his head. An interruption? He thought. How fascinating, it'd help alleviate the monotony of the finance sheets. He rose with an unnatural grin, the scent of sweat and fear reaching his nose.

He strode forward, dropping down silently to the gantry below.

~Unknown~

Carefully climbing onto the railing she looked towards freedom, towards an escape. Metal double doors at the end of the gantry lay open. A whole world beyond.

A cold, clammy hand clamped onto her shoulder, gentle yet forceful, her muscles tensing up. "Where do you think you're going, little worker?" said a stern voice from behind her. She cried out pitifully, trying to wrench the hand away. "That won't do, we can't have our future workers wandering off…". She flailed out, one of her fists connecting with the nose of the Creature making a cracking noise, but the hand stayed firm. Turning around, she saw him lick his lips.

~The Coinmaster~

With the crack of his cane, the child fell to the ground whimpering; it wasn't as amusing as The Coinmaster hoped. Perhaps it would serve as an example to the others; seeing this punishment might improve their productivity, he thought idly. He considered putting the girl up to display above the machinery, to prove a point, but it didn't seem necessary.

The grinding of the factory floor below was beginning to get on his nerves; it was probably time to return to his office upstairs. He could talk to The Investor from there about the cost of the new planned location.

~Unknown~

Her head hurt, all she wanted to do was sleep…

~The Coinmaster~

Licking the blood from his lips, The Coinmaster grinned. Gesturing to a nearby Foreman to pick up the small foetal body, he looked across the factory floor. He could almost taste the sweat of the workers and the grease of the pistons; it was delicious. He savoured the moment as he walked off, the image of the child burnt into his memory.

The Factory is progress.

The Factory is innovation.

And the Factory is hungry.