The Character Assassination Of Site-666 By The Cowards MTF Theta-90 - SCP Foundation

by Mr Carbon

BEHOLD!

AN AUDIENCE WITH KARTOMET:

PRINCE OF HELL, RHYMING DEMON

TEN-TIME ALL-INFERNO SLAM CHAMPION

AND PART-TIME ADJUNCT INSTRUCTOR OF POETRY AT ABYSSAL COMMUNITY COLLEGE

What's that? You wish to hear of those Above?

That mighty hall of hubris, holy Heav'n?

— You don't? Then — yes, you must be speaking of

That other place where mortals chase the Seven:

Site-666. In bright Las Vegas, where

Unnumbered souls doth drink and scheme and dance,

And gambling-halls contain both faces fair —

And those who'll gut you, given half the chance.

But hearken to Kartomet. Heed my tale —

So frightful, even Lucifer would quail!

'Twas on All Hallow's Eve our heroes came.

Due to a party invite Randall House

— May thrice-accursèd be his vile name! —

Had sent to Jason Smithson. Word of mouth

Had Smithson as a networker. ('Twas true;

His nature as a social butterfly

Ensured that there were many souls he knew;

From plumbers, up to those in stations high.)

He'd asked, then, if his whole Tac Team could come.

"Sure," House wrote back. "Those fucks could use some fun."

So now upon the Luxor hotel gates

We find Smithson (with Zheng, Aluko, Weiss,

And Feng, and, too, Hernandez). "They're my mates,

So fuckin' let them in," he'd said. "No dice —

If you'll excuse the pun — my friend: they ain't

On my guest list," had said the burly man

House seemed to have dispatched to stop the taint

Of uninvited spoilers of his plan.

"If you don't let us in… I'll kick your ass."

Said Zheng. (The bouncer, wisely, let them pass.)

And now within the outer entry gate

Our heroes next beheld a sight most rare:

Egyptian scholars, here? One was irate

And yelling, "Ya Allah! Look over there!!"

His right arm jutted out toward the view

Of tacky faux-Kemetic decorations.

"Is this what Vegas people like to do?

Pretend they're on some British excavation?!"

His cat slinked over. "Nedjem!" Smithson said.

The feline purred, and let him pet its head.

Feng glanced at Weiss, their brows raised. "What the hell?"

"You know Jason knows everyone," she said.

"The cat, though, Jane?! Come on! I mean, that's, well —"

"Let's just move on," said Zheng. "Look, up ahead."

A banner stretched across the hotel door:

"BE WELCOME TO OUR PARTY, GHOULS AND GERMS!"

But far below it, closer to the floor,

A smaller sign: "UPDATED PARTY TERMS:

ATTENDANCE WHILE ABNORMAL IS A SIN."

But Theta-90 missed it, and strolled in—

And, right away, sensed something was amiss.

Aluko spoke up first. "Why so few staff?"

"Yeah," Smithson said, "I didn't think that this

Few personnel could even run the gaff!"

Hernandez glanced around. "I've been before,

And this ain't normal." "Staffing?" Zheng replied.

"Well, that, an' last time, it was kinda more…

Diverse," Hernandez said, now narrow-eyed.

"I see what you mean, Bobby. It feels… wrong,"

Weiss said. "So, should we leave? Stay? Play along?"

The Tac Team ducked into a room. "I think

That Feng, and Zheng, and me, and Bobby too,"

Aluko said, "Should lay low. We're not… pink

Enough to pass." She coughed. "Not like you two."

"I see," said Weiss, teeth clenched. "I guess that I'm

Light-skin enough to pass, and Smithson's, well…"

"The whitest Grinder?" Smithson grinned. "It's fine;

Just me an' you, mate. See if we can tell

What's going on." And so the two set out

To find what all this strangeness was about.

Their first stop: House's office. No-one there;

Door open. "That ain't right," frowned Smithson, "He

Would always close that door. And, look, his chair's

All wrong as well. Too cheap. And — oh, fuck me:

The nameplate's changed." "It has?" said Weiss. (It read:

CHIEF SCHOLAR, RANDALL HOUSE.) "Oh, yeah, it should

Have read DIRECTOR HOUSE there," Smithson said,

"He might have changed it. But I doubt he would."

(As Weiss and Smithson looked around the room,

A pair of hidden eyes watched from the gloom…)

Back in the other room: "I need a piss,"

Hernandez griped. "Hey, Bobby, so: is that

The only thing you say?" Feng grinned. "'Cause this

Is like the hundredth time—" "Enough," Zheng spat.

"We're all frustrated, but we can't be rash

Not when we're in the dark." "Yeah, I agree,"

Aluko said, "they'll be here in a flash,

And then," she shrugged, "well, then I guess we'll see."

But, as time passed, and Weiss and Smithson stayed

Yet incommunicado, nerves were frayed.

"Jason! Bud! We're so glad you could come!"

Rang out a voice, too-cheerful, from within.

The Theta-90 pair were near struck dumb

With total shock e'en in this place of sin:

The man's badge said "C. THORNER," but unless

Doc Thorner had been living in "the egg" —

"Did… you transition?" Jason Smithson guessed,

"Because, if not, don't fuckin' pull my leg."

"Jason, pal, it's "Chris," as you well know,"

drawled Thorner, his eyes narrowed. "Who's this ho—"

"John Weiss," said Weiss, her voice an octave down.

"And pleased to meet you, Chris. How do you do?"

This took Thorner aback: she saw him frown,

But stuck his hand out. "…Good to meet you, too."

"So… Chris," — Smithson glanced round the party room —

"Where's Sterling? Let's go shoot the shit with… him."

"Oh, Andrew?" Thorner smiled. "He'll be here soon."

"Cool," Smithson smiled back. (He's coarse. Not dim.)

Soon, Thorner wandered off. "…'John'?" Smithson said.

Weiss shrugged. "I'll be 'John' rather than be dead."

(For when one's eye look'd round the party-place —

The Site gym, decorated creepily

For Hallow'een — not even one brown face,

Nor female face, the keenest eye could see.

Instead, pale glass-eyed men mill'd to and fro.

And all their conversation? Bland, and light,

Without one ounce of flirting - for, also,

Not one non-het'ro person was in sight.)

"Jase, what the fuck is this," hissed Weiss, alarmed.

"Dunno. We'll see. I just wish we were armed."

"That's it," thought Zheng. She stood, and then set to:

"Okay, let's —" "Hey! Don't order me around!

A Specialist can't tell me what to do!"

Hernandez barked — and then, was on the ground.

Zheng looked at him. "You see, I can, because,

For one thing, I'm the senior person here,

And, secondly" — the Angle Grinder paused —

"It's not that hard to put you on your rear."

"Hah! Well, you got me there," Hernandez said,

"Okay, so. Let's make sure those two aren't dead."

And so, the Angle Grinders roused themselves,

Prepared to move — but, suddenly, a shout

Emerging from behind a set of shelves:

"You motherfuckers better let me out!"

Feng pulled the shelving unit to the floor

To find a hidden cubby — and inside

Was Site Director House! "You took your

Time… but, just this once, I'll let it slide."

"Wait — why were you in there?!" Aluko asked.

"I hid. Then couldn't get back out." A flask

Of some liquid or other from his suit:

"Here's to a timely rescue!" House then drank,

And put the flask away. "Now. Our best route

To get there undetected — to outflank —

Is through the Bravo hall." "To where?" Zheng asked.

"Ah, where indeed," quoth House, expression smug.

"Now listen here, Director," Zheng shot back.

"I know you think you're hot shit 'cause you've dug

To literal Hell and back. Well, screw your crap:

My friends" — Zheng paused — "might be in trouble here."

"Relax," smirked House. "Soon, it'll all be clear."

"It's spooky," hissed Jane Weiss, while edging past

A gaggle of identikit white dudes.

"Innit, mate," said Smithson. "But, think fast:

Look over there. No staring, though: that's rude,

And it might get us caught." Weiss looked. "Is that—

It can't be. Can it?" "Yep," said Smithson. "Stage,

and props, and camera too — I think, in fact,

they're fuckin' filming this, for some webpage."

"And that big sign! It says, uh, 'THE ERASER' — "

Weiss' luck ran out. Guards heard, and faced her:

"WOMAN IN THE ROOM!!" screamed one, full-voiced.

All conversation stopped. All faces turned

To face Jane Weiss. She knew she had no choice:

To get out of there now — or else, what? Burned,

Like some old Salem witch upon the stake?

Who knows what these clowns did to all the femmes…

"Hey! Jane! Come on!" yelled Smithson. "We can take

This other route, and find the rest of them!"

By "them," of course, he was referring to

Their Tac Team… who weren't sure, still, what to do.

"Yeah, yeah: 'House always wins.' " Feng rolled their eyes.

"If that's the case, you mind explaining why

You got so comprehensively surprised

By Earth's most boring, palest, average guys?!"

"Because that's not what happened." House just shrugged.

"Turns out something that came from Underneath

Got jealous; snuck up; had my office bugged

And dragged all of my people down… beneath."

"Will they be…" Dread showed on Aluko's face.

"They're fine! It's really mostly like this place."

Hernandez interjected: "They're in Hell?!"

"No. Undervegas. It's not quite the same,

But… close enough." House paused, and shrugged. "Oh well.

Let's move: I've got a whole Site to reclaim."

"So, you plus us four," nodded Zheng. "Attack?"

House pointed. "Well, we have an arms room… there,

But," — House had never been too big on tact —

"We'll all get killed. He's got clones everywhere."

Zheng turned. She locked on House's eyes with hers.

"We're from MTF Theta-90… sir."

"You are? Oh, here's the gun room. So," House stopped,

"Mind telling me why you showed up tonight?"

"Well, this is Tac Team 10 — " "The penny drops!

Jase asked to bring you." "Yes," Zheng said, "that's right."

"So! Over there are rifles; pistols, here; load

Carrying equipment just in front."

"Non-lethal stuff?" "Back there." House quickly showed

The Angle Grinders tools with which to hunt.

"So. Let's find Jane and Jase," Aluko said.

"We did." House grinned. "If they're the ones? Ahead?"

And sure enough, from down the hallway came

Jane Weiss and Jason Smithson at full pelt —

While on their heels (and looking all the same):

Site-666 "staff". Zheng looked once, and knelt,

And asked House: "Are they real?" He called back, "No!

They're Undervegas clones!" The Tac Team dived

Behind what cover they could find. "Let's go!"

Zheng ordered. "And keep Jase and Weiss alive!"

The two dived. Tac Team 10 fired o'er their heads.

And shortly, all the chasing clones were dead —

"Well, are they fuckin' dead?" Smithson remarked,

regarding all the piles of dust in sight.

"Yeah, see, they weren't that… real," House said. Feng snarked,

"Like everything out here?" "You're nearly right,

but — also — very wrong." House smirked. "Uh, can

I ask: the fuck is with this place?!"

Weiss snapped, her patience spent. House groaned. "Oh, man.

I gotta fill these two in, too?" "Post-haste."

As House was wrapping up — the Site lights dimmed,

the floor shook, and a voice rang out:

YOU'VE SINNED!!

"Oh, here we go," House said, "It's just my luck:"

"My mini-me."

SHUT UP!

replied the voice,

I'VE MADE THE WHOLE PLACE BETTER!!

"Have you fuck,"

Bold Jason Smithson spat. "And where's the choice

For everyone down Undervegas, say?"

The disembodied voice just howled,

THEY WEREN'T

AUGHT BUT A VIRTUE-SIGNAL, ANYWAY!!

Then screamed,

I'D HOPED, BY NOW, YOU SCUM HAD LEARNT

THAT ONLY NORMAL PEOPLE SHOULD BE HIRED

TO DO THIS KIND OF WORK!!

House scowled. "You're fired

From MY job, asshole - time to take it back.

Come out! Or are you scared that my brown ass

Is going to kick you in whatever sack

You might have under all that lack of class?!

REVEAL YOURSELF!" And House then moved his hands

In ways that caused the Grinders' heads to hurt.

He uttered words from the Infernal Lands

Then shouted: "Theta-90! Hit the dirt!!"

And then a form most ghastly coalesced

— I know this will be tricky to digest —

A clone of House — but not. A parody,

A failure of a thing. Its skin pale white,

Its face a horror that Just Should Not Be,

Its bowl-cut looking hair gleamed in the light

Atop its too-tall head. Its tiny ears

(Far too high on its face!) began to twitch,

Its small mouth screeched,

I AM THE ONE YOU FEAR!

FAMED SCHOLAR OF ANOMALIES —

"No, bitch,

You're just a shitty joke," said Weiss. "TAC TEAM!

Let's show this fuck a happy Hallowe'en!!"

Like outdoor Hallowe'en lights, Tac Team Ten

Lit up the ghost House! And it screeched anew,

Then stumbled — and yet, although struck again

By fire support from all the Grinder crew,

The House-thing kept its feet! "Don't you dare stop!

I just need ten more seconds!" House screamed out,

Drawing a mini-sigil with a drop

Of his own blood. "Now I'm far from devout

But this should do the trick!" The monster screamed,

Was sucked into the sigil — and House beamed.

Several hours later…

"Director House," Contessa Thorner said,

"I hope the Site could somehow run without — "

"Oh, fine" said House, "Although I think I read

Our vehicle crash rate steeply dropped?" "No doubt,"

said Alice Sterling, grinning. "…You did know

We all went Underneath, for sure? …Correct?"

"I guessed, and made the call." "Yeah… I thought so."

She rolled her eyes. "Eh, what did I expect?"

"Oi. How about that party?" Smithson asked.

"We gonna have a real one now, at last?"

"Can't see why not," House said, while gazing at

The remnants of the prior party scene.

"They did all the work for us, so there's that—"

Hernandez balked: "But, sir! This is obscene!"

"And why?" "It was a demon party!!" "..So?"

House spread his hands and shrugged. "You're new here, pal:

If you don't like it, well, you're free to go,

But, here? One-upping demons boosts morale."

"Damn right!" said Sterling. "Just one caution, then…

Let's not let Thorner summon Ba'al again."

And so, until morn of November First,

Site-666 and Theta-90 both

Made merry, sang, and drank to quench their thirst

In sundry diff'rent ways. Ah, friend! I'm loath

To end this lay, yet end all stories must.

But pray, dear list'ner, heed Kartomet's words:

You wish to dodge an Undervegas bust?

Then don't believe all "scholars" that you've heard.

For some who'd claim to show our world… explained?

Care not for truth — or who they may defame.

(I paid dear for this knowledge, friend. Naught's free, in Hell.)

The false House?

...

THAT WAS ME.