The Most Dangerous Game of All - SCP Foundation

Drip

He was lurking in the shadows of an old oak grove, gazing at the dark, brooding form of the facility on the hill above. She was there. Drop after drop fell on Feldspar's head, as he remembered the day of the betrayal. The day she came for them. The day they died.

Drop

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Feldspar remembered the first time he saw her, all those years ago. Just a frightened young woman, seeking protection from some very dangerous people. She never said how she located them, or what she did to earn the ire of the Double Blade Triad, but she knew his family had a solid reputation of dealing with folks like them, so she turned to them for help. His father, hard man though he was, never even thought about refusing, and they took her in.

Drip

She was the most beautiful thing he ever saw: slender, gracious, fragile, every feature of her glowing with an almost radiant whiteness. She was everything he and his family weren't, but she had nowhere else to go. Hidden beneath the wet leaves, he recalled the first few days they spent together, during that long, lost summer. She seemed so shy at first, seemingly folding into herself every time anyone tried to talk to her. He couldn't blame her, considering what she'd been through; though she tried very hard to hide them, Feldspar could see the cuts left on her arms where the Triad hurt her. He swore he would never let their blades touch her again.

Drop

They grow close during her stay with his family. She quickly opened up to them, and they in turned soften up to her. She became fast friends with his little sister, and they'd spend entire evenings sitting on the balcony, chatting about nothing much and giggling like little girls. His mother was very protective of her, never letting her help in the kitchen in fear she'd hurt herself. Even his father soon learned to respect her. And Feldspar, well, he was smitten from the very first moment he saw her, and getting to know her better only made it easier to love her. They used to go on long trips together, hiking down the winding dirt roads that surrounded his family's grounds. What a pair they must have seen to an outside observer- she fleet-footed and light, he heavy and ponderous. She seemed better now, after a few months in the company of good people, but he saw it was just an act. She was still hurting, still scared to the bottom of her soul from the day the Triad would come for her.

Drip

That day came, and much sooner than any of them expected. They were just coming back from one of their hikes, when, rounding the corner, he saw a flash of garish orange and dull steel, and they were upon him. There must have been at least a dozen of them, and their long blades flashed upon his body a hundred times within moments of their initial attacks. Their attack was fast, brutal and overwhelming, but they forgot one very important thing.

Blades didn't do much against the likes of him.

He broke them, every single one. Each pain they inflicted upon her he returned tenfold, and when he was done, so was the Double Blade Triad. He let a few of them get away, their long blades shattered, to send a message to the rest. They told him he didn't understand, that she wasn't what she appeared to be. He didn't listen.

Drop

Once the Triad was gone, they could finally be together. Those were the happiest days in Feldspar's life. He would return from a day in the field to find her waiting for him, her face covered in ink from one art project or another. He would laugh and wipe it away, and look into those big black eyes of hers, thinking how lucky he was. His family couldn't have been happier for them. Things were looking good. Things were looking great. Until that day.

Drip

Feldspar shivered as he recalled that final walk home. It was a day much like this one, grey and gloomy, and he was anxious to be home. He was covered in mud, tired, wet, and in desperate need of a good wash, and so he returned an hour early. He noticed something wasn't right the moment he entered the house. The usual ambiance noises were replaced with a deathly quiet, and there was no sign of the residents. He couldn't imagine his family going out on a miserable day like this, so he went around the house, calling their names, getting increasingly worried with each empty room. The house was empty. Lost for thought, he went on to check the only place left- the garden shed.

Drop

She was there, standing over the corpses of his family, looking down on her grisly work. His sister, who was her best friend, looked like she was strangled in her sleep. His mother, who cared for her like one of her own, must have been ambushed and strangled from behind, from the expression now forever frozen on her face. His father, who let down his guard to make her feel at home, seemed to have put out a fight- her skin, still white as snow, was carrying the marks of his last desperate struggle. It wasn't enough. Finally noticing him, she gave him a smile like a razor blade. "How was your day, honey?"

"Why?" Was all he could say.

"Why?" she said, slowly advancing on him, "Because you never saw it coming, because it was easy, because you let me. Because I could."

"We saved you! We looked after you! How could you do this to them!? They loved you! I loved you!"

For a moment, something like the a shadow of regret flashed on her face. It was gone just as fast. "Well. Bad call, I guess. Goodbye."

She moved faster than he could have thought possible, and he gasped in horror as her skin began to extend, covering him, suffocating him, drowning him in pure whiteness. He struggled, but his heavy form was ill suited for such a fight. The last thing heard before he collapsed was "Oh, and thank you for dealing with the Double Blades, baby. They were the only ones who could stop me. Now, I can finally move on to the big leagues."

Drip

Feldspar had no idea why she let him live. Perhaps she still loved him, somewhere deep inside. Perhaps she just wanted to see him suffer. Feldspar didn't care. He didn't care that he didn't know where she was, or that she was much smarter and faster and stronger than him. He would find her, and he would kill her, no matter where she went.

Drop

And now he was here. Tracking her down to this facility wasn't easy, but luckily for him, he had several associates in critical positions inside. He wasn't sure what she wanted to do there, or how she made it in, considering how clever the men in charge of the facility were supposed to be. Most likely she used their intelligence against them, made them think she was theirs to control, that they were the one who created her. It seemed like her style, and she had done it before. He wondered what she called herself now.

He heard that they called her SCP-085. Cassy. That papery bitch was so close he could almost touch her, and she had nowhere to run now. There was only one issue left to resolve.

Drip

How the hell was he going to roll up that hill?