After | had awoken from resting on the corpse, a face paled through 
the dusk with the chime of a man’s gravelly voice. | excreted a great 
deal of my oil when | realized who it was. 


Previous: 12. Mr. Laugh by Alias 
Next: 14. Mr. Brass by GrandEnder 


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714. Mr. Brass 


You're following in line with your traveling companion, your feet a 
few steps behind him. 


You surmised him as friendly in your thoughts when you first met 
him. "Entertaining company", was how you remembered it. He was a 
talker, a foil to your pragmatic silence. You had heard of great 
composers and musicians, but this man's knowledge eclipsed them 
all. You could not name a tune without a song he knew, even the 
few which you seemed to come up on your own. But the strangest of 
all the features he had were those hands of his, and the sounds that 
he made with them. 


On the first day you met, he showed you his talent without delay. He 
simply placed his hands on an immaterial instrument before his lips 
and blew. An invisible instrument with neither color nor form, but 
made melodies all the same. Every time you talked he had a new 
instrument, whether a tuba, trumpet or trombone. When your 
friendship was young, you had asked him of his nature, how had he 
become a Mister, in the same way you had asked many people. He 
told you he never knew, he merely awoke into the life one day. 
Those early memories were from a long time ago. 


It was only a few hours ago that you had found him again, and in 
that time you had made him your friend once more. But, already his 
music is taking a different tone. It was darker than before, dimmer. It 
did not escape your mind that he had realized the similarities - 
certain things can be dyed or shaved, but others cannot. Still, you 
had changed so much since those early memories, he could not 
possibly. . ? The other man's sight flashes about the forest path 
which you had taken him down. He asks to turn back, you tell him it 
is only a bit farther. 


Around a bend in the trees, ah, there. The noise of a dart firing, the 
yelp let out by Mr. Brass. You turn to face him as he loses 
consciousness. He finally makes the realization, the slight color of 


red to your eyes the last clue he needs. But it is too late for him. His 
body becomes limp in your arms. 


"Breve." 
Previous: 13. Mr. Purple by Faminepulse 
Next: 15. Ms. Sweetie by The Deadly Moose 


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15. Ms. Sweetie 


So this is it, isn't it. 


Yes, that's right, I'm Ms. Sweetie. The only Miss in the first few 
batches of Misters. Like the one girl Smurf. You know, women make 
up more than half the world's population. You've got to admit that 
just one token female character is messed up. 


You've got questions? Well, so do |. Yeah, | don't really know where 
we come from here. Most of us don't. Our memories get confused... 
especially with the tweaking. Most of us have had to be tweaked 
from time to time. | suspect some of my brothers might have your 
answers, but | couldn't tell you which. 


Did | start off human? Did | have a life before becoming a Little 
Mister - well, a Little Miss, in my case? | don't know. | don't 
remember. Rather, | guess | should say | have a lot of memories. 
Many of them don't actually match with each other. | remember 
three different fifteenth birthdays, one of which was a quinceanera. | 
don't show up in any missing persons database - | checked. Maybe 
this isn't my original face. Or my original body. In fact, in at least one 
of my sets of memories, I'm male. Some nights | stay awake and 
wonder if that's who | really am - some guy in his mid-twenties who 
got snatched off the street and reworked into some sick person's 
wet dream of a female. Incidentally, my chromosomes don't come 
up either XX or XY. Maybe all | am is a production error. 


| do know that the Wondertainment people have tried majorly 
tweaking my personality at least three times, probably more that 
they made me forget. "Rebellious", one of them called me. 
"Problem". Won't stick to the theme, they said. Not sweet or girly 
enough to be Ms. Sweetie, which is a bit unfair if you ask me. 


Superpower. Huh. Yeah, | don't think of them as 'superpowers’. 
They're my ... nature, if you will. I'll admit my nature is a little creepy. 
Though it's not as bad as my first edition, where | was a person 


made up entirely of sweets and sugary confections rather than flesh 
and blood. | had health problems like you wouldn't believe. | could 
still feel pain and get sick, except every virus affected me in new and 
exciting and truly disgusting ways. After one accident where | 
vomited sugar-plum pudding for two weeks solid, the 
Wondertainment people scrapped that nature altogether. Made me 
flesh and blood again. Now, I'm basically just like a normal human, 
except that everyone who sees me loves me. Whether it's platonic, 
romantic, or more like the love you have for a pet or... the other 
definitions of love... that's up to the person. Which hasn't always 
worked out so well for me. 


That isn't the only way I'm 'sweet'. I've always had a compassionate 
streak a mile wide. I'm a really caring person, more than | should be 
- it's kind of embarrassing, actually. | remember that | used to get 
some flack for it... and | think | can trust that memory, because | 
don't think Wondertainment would implant a memory that contradicts 
my "theme". Unless they're cleverer than | think, playing a bit of 
reverse psychology on me... But | sincerely doubt they're that smart. 
You know, during one of their "tweaks" they actually tried to make 
me stupid. What does that tell you, eh? | haven't forgiven them for 
that. If there's a single person behind the Dr. Wondertainment 
moniker, you can bet that person has a penis. 


| don't mind the name Ms. Sweetie as much as you might think, by 
the way. It's... iconic. Kind of a lame icon as icons go, but in my 
position, you take what you can get. 


Being the only woman on most of the Little Mister lists makes for 
some interesting dynamics. Several of the other Misters fell in love 
with me, or at least said they did while also acting like moony 
teenagers. Like Mr. Mission. And Mr. Storm. And Mr. Feather. And 
at least half the others who weren't busy seeing me as their 
mommy. That would be bad enough by itself. Plus, | don't think I'm 
exactly interested. In men. At all. So when | said ‘interesting’ | 
actually meant 'really shitty’. 


Did any of that sound harsh? | didn't mean it to. | like them. | really 
do. | care about them, even. | like them all, even Mr. Stripes. All 
except... 


SCP-718: Eyeball 


Item #: SCP-718 
Object Class: Keter 


Special Containment Procedures: No long-term observation is to 
be made of SCP-718. Any and all observation and interaction is to 
be restricted to five and ten minute periods, with personnel rotations 
every twenty-four hours. Extreme care must be taken with SCP-718, 
and full hazmat suits are mandatory for all personnel. Any damage 
done to SCP-718 must be reported as soon as possible. 


Any personnel observing or interacting with SCP-718 for longer than 
the advised period must be removed, with force if necessary. Any 
personnel acting in an erratic or violent manner will be transferred. 


Description: SCP-718 is an eye, roughly the size of a baseball. It is 
supported by a long, thin stalk made of tendon and blood vessels. It 
stands 1.22m (4ft) tall, and appears to need no nourishment, nor 
excrete any waste. The eye will turn and follow any living thing in its 
field of vision. The stalk is capable of limited movement, and will 
follow living things for a short distance. SCP-718 will also stare at 
any observational equipment in its containment area if no living 
things are present. SCP-718 appears to prefer staring at humans 
more than other animals. 


SCP-718's stare can induce discomfort and paranoia in a very short 
time, often resulting in a subject's attempt to destroy SCP-718. The 
eye, if damaged, will explode, showering clear fluid on all nearby 
surfaces before shriveling into powder. Anything the fluid touches 
will develop a clear blister-like bubble that slowly turns black. After 
twenty-four hours, the "blister" will burst, and a 20.32cm (8in) copy 
of SCP-718 will emerge, growing to full size over the course of a few 
days. This has been shown to occur on all organic surfaces, and 
many inorganic. 


| still remember. Wondertainment tried to wipe my memory but it 
wouldn't take, not for this. | like to think it wouldn't help. It's not going 
to help to explain it, either. No, it wasn't rape. | don't even think 
Stripes comprehends that idea. It just wouldn't help to explain what 
happened. You wouldn't understand it anyway. Just remember this 
— he did it with adoration in his eyes. 


| have to find him. | need to get to him before Mr. Stripes, or Mr. 
Mad, or any of the others. 


Not all the others know the specific details. A couple of them know a 
little bit. Most of the others heard about it, of course. Word gets 
around. Now, apparently, a whole bunch of them are coming for Mr. 
Redd. | didn't send them, but when you're the only woman ina 
roomful of guys, the men either objectify you, put you on a pedestal, 
or both. Which means that | may as well be Ms. Damsel-In-Distress, 
and they are all Mr. White-Knights. 


Maybe | should tell them | suspect | started off a man. But maybe 
they'd turn on me too. | remember what Wondertainment did to Mr. 
Hot when they caught him kissing... No, I'm not going to think about 
that. 


| suppose | can't object too much. It wasn't just me that Mr. Redd 
hurt. I'm not even sure | was the worst. Just the most public. 


But | don't want them to find Mr. Redd. Because I'm nota damsel in 
distress. AS much as Wondertainment has tried to make me that 
way. The others, they talk about avenging my memory, like I'm dead 
and gone like some human. Ha. | wish. But they're really just 
avenging the way | was before - innocent, naive, ...stupid. Yeah, I'll 
never go back to the way | was before, but /'m still here. | don't need 
their efforts. I'm not just some victim. 


I've got plans. Not just the obvious. Sure, I've got the handgun in my 
pocket, and yeah, I'm gonna at least try to shoot him in the face. 
Sort of an obligation at this point. But that's just for starters. Being 
honest, | expect to go down for a while when the endgame starts. | 
know Mr. Redd. You can't beat him head to head like that. But it'll all 
unwind by the time it's over. You wouldn't believe the kinds of 
resources and connections you can pile up when everyone thinks 


they love you. | wish | could be there when he finally gets taken... Or 
when he sees my face again, in the containment cell, for hopefully 
the last time... 


| always liked the Foundation, really. There are worse ways to spend 
the rest of your life. 


What was the name of that old poem? From that collection they 
gave me when they were trying to make me properly feminine? Ah, 
yes. "Vengeance is sweet." 


See, it even fits my theme. 


Previous: 14. Mr. Brass by Grand Ender 
Next: 16. Mr. Fish by Dexanote 
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16. Mr. Fish 


Sometimes | like to sit in the water and just think. | like this place. It's 
peaceful. Wet. 


It's warm outside. Cloudy. | like the clouds. 


| have brothers and sisters, | think. We’re not normal. We were 
made. Like an old monster movie. The magic of science. Lightning 
in a castle. Magic science. 


It's getting windy outside. 


Dr Wondertainment made us and can remake us. But | wonder. 
When we die, are we changed? Was | changed? Am | the same 
person from back then or was that one changed? Will | be brought 
back or will | be lost? Can | carry memories on? Or are they just little 
knobs on a machine that you can switch on and off? | know there’s 
been more Misters made since the first edition. Mister Redd’s the 
only original one left. 


| don’t think | should have said his name. | should hide somewhere. 


I'm scared sometimes. I’m scared of what’s coming. I'm scared one 
of them will find me. I'm scared of Redd and Stripes. They'll kill me. | 
don't want to die. | want to stay here in my swamp... 


It's raining now. | like the rain. 
But | still wonder. Am | an option or a miracle? What am |? 
... [think | know what | am. | am Mister Fish. | am me. | am content. 
Previous: 15. Ms. Sweetie by The Deadly Moose 

Next: End by Salman Corbette 
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End 


It wasn't like | didn't feel guilty. Of course | felt guilty. But a man's 
gotta do what a man's gotta do to stay alive sometimes, and even as 
| gazed at the tank containing Mr. Fish, the final capture of my 
assignment, all | could do was give him a sad look and walk away. 
What else could | have done for the poor guy, without putting my 
own neck on the line? 


The part that really sickened me about myself was the ease with 
which | went through with it. I've done a few things that people would 
consider extreme, but I've never betrayed anyone. | mean, they all 
came. All | had to do was set up some traps, maybe a firing squad 
with some trangs and bam, they were all contained. Yeah, whatever. 
I'm sure they all hated me before anyways - ever since what | did 
with Sweetie everybody's been wanting me dead. 


Yet, it wasn't that difficult when | captured her this time. There she 
was, walking through the forest, a gun in her hand that seemed so 
out of place in such dainty little fingers. She was searching for me. | 
came out from my hiding spot and looked her over. She was still as 
beautiful as she had ever been, and | couldn't help but feel a little 
flustered. 


"Hello." 
"Afternoon." 


And she began to pull the trigger. But no one is quicker than me. 
Even as her first shot whizzed by my head she collapsed. I'm not 
sure why | risked myself like that. Maybe | just wanted to talk with 
her one more time. 


| leaned over and pulled out the dart from her neck. And then | just 
stood there for a moment, looking over her prone body. When | 
touched her it still sent shivers down my spine. | even took out my 
knife and held it less than an inch from her skin, considering cutting 


her again. But | didn't. I'm not rolling that way anymore. And | did 
need to drop some old habits. 


Was it really my fault in doing this? | didn't have a choice. | mean, | 
was discontinued, and then Stripes comes after me. Me being on his 
list and all. My only way to live was to join the guys who would 
Protect me no matter what the cost. They helped me get Stripes, so 
| guess | owed them a favour after that. A favour big enough to keep 
me catching all the others. Like the one that was behind me. 


| walked down the long hallway from the containment chamber to 
the office of my new boss. A true mastermind, if there ever was one, 
and always dedicated to his cause. It was really a silly cause. 
"Secure, Contain, and Protect." What kind of bullshit was that. 


| opened the door to his office. 

"He's caught, boss," | said to the man behind the desk. 

"Ah, good work,” said the man. 

"| suppose I'll be taking my leave now." | nodded to the man. 


"Ah, not so fast. We can't just let you go like that." Can't say | wasn't 
expecting that. Still, there were other ways out. 


"I've done my job." | could give less of a shit about how much they 
want to study me, | was getting out. 


"Ah, yes, but you're an SCP object yourself." 


"Boss, please." | placed a look of desperation on my face. Just 
biding my time. 


"Listen, you've done us good, you'll get your own furnishings and 
cell with the best service." The man walked over to me as he spoke. 
Good. | placed my grip on my knife. 


"Boss, I'm asking you from the bottom of my heart." | began to pull 
out my knife, ready to place it at his throat. 


| saw a flash of movement towards my thigh, followed by a sudden