“If | have to cut you into a thousand different pieces and bury them 
in a thousand different universes to keep you dead, | will Fuller!” Icky 
shouted. “Manny, don’t just stand there, grab him!” 


Herman beamed a mocking smile towards Manny, who made no 
move to attack. 


“..Veronica, | think we should fall back. We don’t know what he’s 
capable of, it’s too risky.” 


“We can’t let him get away!” Icky screamed, charging at Fuller once 
more. Her nails extended into monstrous claws and she took 
multiple swipes at him, all of which he ducked. 


“Veronica, that’s not working! | want him dead too, but we need a 
strategy!” 


Icky growled in frustration, but conceded his point. She retracted her 
claws and stepped back towards Lolly to better protect her. 


“You know Herman, you’re shorter than | remember,” she mocked. 


“Lost about a foot to the Darkness,” he sneered. He took Lolly’s 
phone out of his pocket and tossed it back to her. “You can have 
that back. It would be more of an annoyance than anything. My 
invitation for animal crackers still stands.” 


“Buzz off,” Lolly replied. 


“Ah, for the best. You murdered my valet. | may be a rat, but | would 
never stoop so low as to serve my own guests,” he said. “I'll be 
seeing you all again real soon.” 


He placed his hands in his pockets and ran off down another side 
alley. Icky sighed with relief and hugged Lolly to her, kissing her 
lovingly on the forehead. 


“Victor! We’ve got to help Victor! Herman froze his hand!” Lolly 
remembered. 


“| ran across Victor on the way in. He’s fine. He's covered in 
tomatoes, but he's fine. He drank that vial of Springwater he bought. 
| directed him to the Door we opened,” Manny told her. 


“Manny, did you see anything in Herman’s mind? Anything that 
might help us find him?” Icky asked. 


“| did,” he replied solemnly. “He’s at the Matinee, Veronica.” 


“Yeah, he mentioned a Matinee a couple of times. What is it?” Lolly 
asked. 


“It was a theatre he used to own. He used to...well, you don’t need 
to know the specifics right now but it was a way to punish those who 
defied him,” Icky replied. “But Manny made him close it down in the 
sixties.” 


“He closed it, but he still owns it. He must have gone back there 
after he escaped from the Darkness,” Manny speculated. “He’s been 
killing people Veronica. Dozens of innocent people, maybe more, all 
hooked up to that infernal machine!” 


“Why?” she asked aghast. 


“Practice. He wants us, all of us, the entire Circus, all his again. 
Everyone connected to his machine, his puppets for all eternity.” 


“He said | was bait,” Lolly said. “He knew you’d send the whole 
Circus in to get me back. It’s a trap Icky. What are we going to do?” 


To both Lolly's and Manny’s surprise, Icky smirked. 


“We're going to spring his trap on him,” she said. “Come on, back to 
the Circus. We’ve got some planning to do.” 


Icky stood in front of the Kaleidoscope Doors, gazing out at the 
posse she had assembled. Most of the Clowns, many of the Freaks, 
and even some of the Carnies had armed themselves and stood 
ready to defend their Circus. Lolly sat off to the side, with Mr. 
Noodles for protection and Yume and Ragamuffin there to console 
her. 


“Twenty or so years ago, all of us banded together and overthrew 
Fuller, freeing us from his cruelty and greed, taking this Circus for 
ourselves and turning it into the sanctuary it always should have 
been,” Icky pontificated. “We showed Fuller mercy he did not 
deserve and let him live, and now he has returned to make us suffer 
for it! Manny has seen the twisted vision that fills Herman’s mind; all 
of us strung up as puppets in his Matinee. He tried to kidnap Lolly to 
lure us there! My Lolly! He tried to take my Lolly!” 


She screamed in rage and pounded her fists into a clown-shaped 


punching bag by her side. 
“Thanks Eugene,” she sighed when she was done. 


“No problem boss,” the punching bag replied, shimmering back into 
his Clown form. 


“As | was saying,” Icky resumed. “We're not safe just because 
Herman failed this time. If he can’t lure us to the Matinee, he’ll come 
for us. He'll snatch us up one by one if he has to. He'll never stop 
until he takes this Circus back. | say we don’t wait for that! | say we 
take the fight to him, and end this now!” 


The crowd of Clowns and Freaks and Carnies cheered. Manny 
stepped up beside Icky, brandishing a large machete. 


“| don’t know exactly what’s waiting for us, but | Know that Fuller 
already has dozens or more puppets ready to fight for him,” he 
announced. “Remember that they are puppets. Cut their strings, and 
they will fall. Don’t waste time attacking their bodies; they're already 
dead.” 


“Herman may have been born a Humdrum, but over his very long 
life he acquired more powers than even Manny knows,” Icky add. 
“We don’t know all he’s capable of, but he doesn’t know we have 
this!” 


She pulled out a small sphere of beryllium bronze and held it up for 
everyone to see. 


“A little souvenir from my trip to the Essie P! A Scantron...” 
“Scranton,” Manny corrected. 


“...Scranton Reality Mini-Buoy! It should be enough to take some of 
the fight out of Fuller! Are you ready to defend our family from this 
menace? To make him pay for everything he’s ever done, 
everything he tried to do, and would do if we let him roam free?” 


The crowd cheered wildly. 


“’m working on a swarm of Giant Asian Hornets just for Fuller!” 


SCP-625: Anklebiters 


Item #: SCP-625 
Object Class: Euclid-flecto 


Special Containment Procedures: All specimens of SCP-625 are 
to be contained within a 5m x 5m x 7m room constructed of 
reinforced concrete at Site 19, Wing 8. The door to this room is 
located approximately five meters from the floor and opens to a 
balcony with a railing. Use of the installed platform elevator system 
is required to access SCP-625 specimens. The following features 
are also present in SCP-625's cell: 


* Five high-powered ceiling-mounted flood lamps. These are to 
remain off except when personnel are present in the 
containment chamber, in which case they will remain active 
until all personnel have exited the cell. 

Four ceiling-mounted security cameras. The feed from these 

cameras is monitored for unusual activity by personnel at 

Security Station A85. 

* One device designed to emit randomized ultrasonic noise 
when active. This is to be activated only during security 
breaches or if a security breach is deemed imminent. Identical 
devices are installed in the remainder of Wing 8 for the same 
purpose. 


Seventeen specimens of SCP-625 are currently in containment; 
more are believed to exist in the wild. Police reports suggesting 
SCP-625 presence must be investigated. 


Routine maintenance and feeding of SCP-625 and its cell is to be 
performed daily by Level 1 personnel in accordance with Procedure 
625-M once daily. Livestock has been deemed the safest and most 
cost-effective food for SCP-625. 


Update February 25, 1995: SCP-625 may not be exposed to other 


Quincy shouted, hiccupping up a couple of them prematurely. 


“If anyone needs a light for a torch or Molotov cocktail, I’ve got you 
covered!” Danny yelled, pointing to his flaming head. 


“And we've got the bazooka!” Eugene cried, hoisting the weapon 
onto his shoulders. 


“...Which, again, only shoots cream pies,” Pius reminded him. 
“Still deadly, if used properly,” Eugene insisted. 


“Spin her up Manny,” Icky ordered. Having already dialled the 
coordinates, Manny wound up the Kaleidoscope with an enormous 
key. Once it was fully wound, the largest pair of doors on the 
Kaleidoscope slid open, revealing the smoking white portal held 
open by the Circus's ever-present calliope music. “Fun-lovers first! 
Ripley, Bailey, all of you move out!” 


The black, fluid-filled sacs ran through the crowd on their varying 
assortment of limbs and leapt through the portal. Icky blew a kiss to 
Lolly and then hopped to Manny’s side, both of them facing directly 
into the glowing white doorway. 


“You ready buddy?” she asked, tossing the buoy up and down in her 
palm. 


“We should’ve tracked him down a long time ago,” Manny nodded. 
He raised his machete in the air and then pointed it forward to direct 
the small army. “Everyone, move out!” 


And with that command, the company of Clowns and Freaks and 
Carnies marched out of Herman Fuller’s Circus of the Disquieting, 
and marched into Herman Fuller’s Marvellously Macabre 
Mechanical Marionette Matinee. 


« Freaky Commodities Il ~ Freak Harder | Dread & Circuses Hub 
| So They Called Him Darke » 


So They Called Him Darke 


« There Are No Strings On Me | Dread & Circuses Hub | A Scip 
Or A Star? » 


“Grandsire?” Iris Dark called as she stepped through the Way from 
the London Office into Percival Darke’s private sanctum. She had 
heard Marshall and Carter call it the ‘The Museum’, presumably 
because they saw Darke as a relic. It was appropriate nonetheless 
since, in addition to being Darke's home and workspace, it also held 
his private collection of curiosities that he had accumulated over the 
centuries. Whether they had been purchased, stolen, discovered or 
invented by his own skilled hands, these were the few rare objects 
that were worth more to Darke than what they'd fetch on the open 
market. 


It was a strange place, to be sure, and Iris didn’t even know where it 
was. It was windowless and she never heard any noises from 
outside, so she assumed it was deep underground, yet it was utterly 
lacking any sort of ventilation system. It was obscenely ornate, yet 
rustically antiquated, not even possessing electricity. All electronic 
reports and messages had to be printed off and translocated to him 
via ravenwave. 


The entrance hall was lined with braziers that burned with spectral, 
smokeless flames, their sepia light dancing on the marble walls and 
pillars. The echoes of her bootsteps were the only noise as she set 
out seeking for her living forefather. 


It had been a little over three years now since she had become 
Percival Darke’s proxy, the end result of a complex chain of events 
set in motion by a clause in a will and a (temporarily) successful 
assassination attempt. Darke was by far the most reclusive partner 
of Marshall, Carter, & Dark, and preferred to be represented by his 
proxy as much as was practical. 


lris was aware that she wasn’t the first of Darke’s descendants to 


hold this position. She had been preceded by a Benjamin Phineas 
Dark, and an Abigail Agnes Dark before him, and a Johann Dark 
before her. The position obviously had its perks. The shares she had 
been given had made her an instant billionaire, and the company 
health plan included various forms of life extension and resurrection. 
Darke also allowed her mostly free rein to do as she pleased, since 
he was well aware that a being as ancient as himself was out of 
touch. She was currently using MC&D’s inexhaustible resources to 
finance several anomalous tech projects, and had plenty more ideas 
on how she might spend her billions of dollars and very long life. 


An interesting consequence (though not necessarily a downside) of 
her new position was that people frequently thought she was Darke, 
just as they had with her predecessors. Staff and clients alike often 
viewed her as a centuries-old sorceress of unknowable power. 
Some people whispered that Darke was like a Time Lord, and 
rejuvenated into new forms every so often. Others said that he had 
never been anything remotely human, and his ‘descendants’ were 
only those who had pledged their lives to him for the assurance of a 
tolerable afterlife. Iris had even caught wind of a rumour that she 
had been a call girl whose body Darke had desouled and 
possessed. She could hardly blame people though, since nobody 
knew what Darke was. 


Not even her. 


She had a theory though, one she had compiled from three years of 
interaction with him and her newfound expertise on the anomalous 
world. She believed that Darke, who she knew to be an alchemist 
and thaumaturge of great skill and power with deep knowledge of 
the Ways, had phased himself slightly out of this reality and into the 
Darkness Between Dimensions. The way he moved made it seem 
like he wasn’t fully corporeal, and he was always shrouded in a dark 
aura. The void’s inherent lack of entropy kept him from ageing, and 
its low Hume level would afford him powerful reality bending 
capabilities. He never faded because of the living creatures he 
consumed (not ate, consumed). In addition to their matter and their 
EVE particles replenishing his own, their Hume field replenished his. 
It made a weird kind of sense. He immersed himself in the 
Darkness, sustained himself on the Darkness, empowered himself 


with the Darkness. 
So they called him Darke. 


It was only an educated guess at best though, as she knew better 
than to ask him. 


She poked her head in his workshop, and found it empty. The 
antique alchemical laboratory, the spectral forge, and the electro- 
thaumic workbench were all unused at the moment. She checked 
his study next, only to find the divination circle unlit and the vellum 
codex's all in their proper places. 


She was just about to work up the courage to try his bedchamber 
(where she would at best be disturbing his rest and at worst 
interrupting as he attended to whatever carnal needs a being of his 
nature possessed) when the study door slid open. Iris exhaled a 
sigh of relief as the tall, cloaked form of Percival Darke glided in with 
several books clutched in his hand. 


“Grandsire, there you are. Just got back from the Library | take it?” 
Iris asked. 


“| was able to locate some Erikeshan texts from a reality where they 
were a little more empirical than they were in our history,” he replied 
as he shut the door and set the books down on his end table. “1 
suspect | may be able to synthesize the substance they used to 
forge the Chains of Jaspetar. One never knows when one might 
need to imprison a colossal Elder God. But that can wait. What did 
you need?” 


“Chan said he found a vendor selling Astrakhan Springwater at the 
Utterly Bazaar, and brought back a sample for testing. There is a 
sizable market that could afford to use the ‘soul sucker’ but refuse 
because of moral objections. We could stand to make a lot from 
‘cruelty-free’ life extension.” 


Iris took the vial out of her pocket and handed it to Darke. He 
clasped it in his boney, ashen, slightly translucent hand and 
meditated on it for a moment. 


“It’s giving off a lot of Akiva radiation, indicative of a divine origin.” 
He then squeezed a single droplet onto his tongue. “It’s not pure. 
They’ve watered it down. | can hardly blame them, since most of 
their customers would have no way to tell the difference. If they’re 
willing to sell us the pure stuff then we can make a deal.” 


Darke handed the vial back to his heir, and then suddenly grew 
pensive. 


“Chan’s the one we assigned to the Circus of the Disquieting, 
correct?” he asked. 


“Yes, we recently came to an agreement with them allowing us 
limited use of their Way generator,” Iris replied. 


“The Kaleidoscope, yes. A truly astonishing invention,” Darke said 
as sat down in his reading chair, gesturing for Iris to sit beside him. 


He rung a small silver bell and an imp of a creature dressed like a 
renaissance period servant with its face hidden behind a brazen 
mask appeared from around the corner. It carried a silver tray 
bearing a hot chocolate for Iris and a chalice of cold, condensed 
miasma for Darke, so heavy it was almost liquid. The servant, or 
slave, or whatever it was immediately retreated from sight so as not 
to disturb its master for any longer than was absolutely necessary.