Chương 5: SCP-3288; Part 5, Dinner.
The Cook lifted the second Silver Lid and a head lay there. Hair burnt off and skin crispy. An apple stuffed in its mouth as a mocking gesture.
"...eaaaaat..." groaned the Cook.
Top refused, staring in shock at the decapitated head.
"...eaaaat..." it groaned again, its voice raspy and horrid. Breath stinking of rotten flesh and shit.
Top spat in the things face.
This angered the Cook, who roared in fury, stabbed at the cooked thigh, taking a chunk in its fork and forced it to Tops' face. Jabbing its talons between his jaw, forcing his mouth open. The gathered 3288's howled in amusement. It was clear that this was to be Top's form of torture. The cooked flesh was forced into Tops' mouth.
There was a distinctive short 'hiss'
The Cook leaned forward with a blank stare and slack jaw. Falling onto Top and going limp. Vomiting the flesh out, Top struggled to breathe. The gathered laughter ceased, and frustration entered their mouths. A hiss came, and another 3288 fell limp. Another hiss, and another. Multiple 3288's fell dead. The Baron roared in anger and tossed the table aside. Cutlery and fine china soared through the air, the delicate plates shattering.
The abominations scattered in to the darkness surrounding all flanks of the room, The Baron amongst them, and five black clad figures emerged from the shadows to Top's right, felling the 3288's that fled that way. Their mask design identified them as a S.C.P. M.T.F.
Saved.
Top felt a sense of relief as he deducted the two extra members of the breaching team must be Iron and Jester, and the three members must be Six-Two. The Fell Borns.
Ooraaah.
Top owed them a beer or two.
"Mandrake! Ahead!" called the leading member of the group pointing at Top, and two men broke away to secure him, untie and arm him. The hissing from the rifles continued, always followed by a cry of pain from a finely dressed abomination.
Top caught sight of the Baron heading through one of the dark abyss caves.
One of the M.T.F.'s tossed Top a bullpop rifle.
"After it!" Top barked at the soldiers, pointing towards the cave that the Baron had fled through. The Fell Borns persued the Baron, their weapons hissing as bullets left their muzzles and found their fleshy homes inside the 3288's. Top adjusted himself with his new equipment, his mask still missing, the stench finally seeped in through his nostrils as the adrenaline and fear left his system. The stink of rot and burnt flesh made him gag. But the smell of the expelled sulphur from the rifles and the shit from the soiled breeches of the dead abominations gave him a sense of familiar as the battle took shape.
The bodies lay in awkward and unnatural positions as the soldiers strode over them, their heavy boots echoing against the empty walls of the diner cave.
Top looked down upon the corpse of the Cook, a vacant look on its ugly face, Top spat at it. "Prick." he said flatly and loaded his weapon. Jester and Iron nodded in agreement as Top gave them his usual 'let's go and kill some stuff' look, and they moved out, looking to join up with The Fell Borns. The darkness of the cave enveloped them, Top felt blind in the inky black. He felt a hand rest upon his shoulder and found Iron holding a spare set of night vision goggles. "Not exactly bi-visions, but they do for us unfussy types." Top was thankful, but didn't show it, he quietly slipped the goggles on and allowed his eyes to adjust to the green sea of light. And when his vision returned, he wished it hadn't.
Three bodies.
One torn in half at the waist.
Both arms torn from another.
The head and legs ripped from the last.
Their weapons scattered amongst the blood and gore.
Fuck.
The Fell Borns were all dead.
Killed by something quick. Something quick enough to take all three by surprise. "Top. You see the claw marks on Steve?" Iron asked, kneeling by the man cut in half. "Looks like we have ourselves an Empress."
Top cursed.
"Well shit. There goes my smile for lunch! It was Pizza Day, too! Fucking empress!" spat Jester angrily.
Top looked further down the hewn corridor, no threats could be observed. The jagged walls empty of enemies. Some tapestries hung roughly upon the walls, but looking harder, it became obvious it was flayed skins that had been sewn together and painted. "Six Actual. This is Six-One. Six-Two is K.I.A. How copy?" Top was greeted by static.
Shit.
Top approached each corpse of his comrades and took their dogtags. Taking a moment over each body in silence whilst Jester and Iron covered each end of the cavern. The wet raspy dirty chuckle came again, followed by the high pitched "bahahaaa" of the Baron.
"Fuckin' 3288's" said Iron flatly. Shouldering his weapon as Jester approached from the rear of the team and checked his friends shoulder dressing again, it seemed OK.
The team advanced, following the uneven path that increased its elevation occasionally. They were heading to the surface.
Towards the tomb maybe?
No, can't be, Six-Two didn't come this way, and they entered through the tomb.
Thirty my arse: thought Top bitterly. Atleast fifty lay purged in the diner cave. Someone, somewhere had nurtured a fuck up of biblical proportions.
A mobile task force team was dead. Command would have to answer for this monumental cockup of intelligence incorrectness. More men would have been assigned if the numbers neared one hundred, or different means of extermination would have been implemented if it exceeded one hundred.
Top considered 'Black Jackel' for a moment but remembered that they were too deep for radios to call it in.
Black Jackel would implement a flammable gas to be sent down in to the tunnels and to be detonated remotely. The gas was odourless, tasteless, and colourless. And the best part, it was ignited by a chemical, not a flame. The chemical was controlled remotely and rested inside the metal body of the bomb, ready to be deployed and ignite the gas at will. The explosive potential was impressive.
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