“YES, I SEE THEM MUTHA FUCKAS!!!”

“YOU THINK YOU WERE GONNA SIX SENSE ME YOU BITCH?!?!

I smack him in the face. His body laid on the floor, knocked out. I then look towards the other three.

“YALL BETTER NOT COME BACK HERE AGAIN!!”

The three run off around me, but so much anger has been building since seeing these three living there when I should of been getting paid more, I reached out and grab one of them.

The man was screaming at his friends, “Lauren! Bobby Joe Joe!! His got me!!” But they were long gone.

I turned him around and pulled out my knife. “Don’t move! I swear I cut you!!”

He held his hands up, laying on his back and started being silent. I cautiously stepped toward my tenant, but with my eye on him.

I reached to him and turned him around. “Wake up Joel!I know you’ve been letting those mutha fuckas leave here for the last three months and I know god damn well that none are on the lease.”

I press down on his throat with my foot and his eyes widen.

“I want you to hear me very clearly Joel, if I see that fucker and the other two ever back here, I swear I’ll come and-“

“FREEZE!! POLICE!!! GET ON THE GROUND!!!”

I turn around and see two police officers. Behind them were the two others that ran off.

I tried to defend myself, “Sirs, you don’t understand, this man has been letting this three-

“GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!! IF YOU DO NOT COOPERATE WE WILL SHOOT!!

“Guys, please don’t be so-

My ears start ringing and for some reason I am besides Joel.

I start feeling a pain in my stomach and reach my hands towards it. My hands feel warm and wet. I look down and see my coors light shirt was red.

Everything just slows down. I had one office over me, saying to himself “please don’t die” while the other office still pointed the gun at me. I start to feel my eyes heavy and lastly hearing the silent faints of my tenant.

‘A Bone to Pick’

—-

Sasha’s grizzled muzzle lolled out the window, a thin stream of drool marking the sedan’s trajectory.

The old boxer sniffed the air, growled, and whimpered. She nuzzled the Yorkie pup lying next to her. “Trix? TRIX? TRIXIE?!?”

Trixie opened an eye slowly, her third eyelid still apparent from slumber. “Wh-what? Wh-here are we?”

“In the car, stupid. You were half asleep when she put you in, and you snored the whole way so far.”

Stretching, Trixie licked a paw. “So?”

“So? So?? Don’t you hear them?”

“Hear what, Sash?”

“The howls of horror. She. Is. Taking. Us. To. The. Vets.”

“Say what now?”

“You heard me,” Sasha raised a graying brow.

Suddenly, Trixie was everywhere at once. Jumping on the seat. Dashing at the windows. Barking like a mad pup.

“Trix? What is it, girl?” Her human mom reached over to scritch her head. “Aww, you know you’re going to the vet’s, don’t you? Poor thing.”

Whimpering, Trixie clawed the window.

“Here we are, guys. Let me just get your leashes,” she said, opening the car door slightly.

That’s all it took. Sasha darted out with a speed belying her age. She looked left and right and realized she had nowhere else to go. Head down, she walked back to her mom.

“Goood girl,” the human crooned, patting her on the head.

With both dogs on leashes, she entered the vet's office.

Two fresh peanut butter flavored biscuits of their favorite biscuits awaited them at the front desk.

“I could get used to this, Sash. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.”

A lone groan from the back echoed through the cement building.

They exchanged looks as their names were called.

Sasha murmured, “This is the end, my only friend.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s a rabies shot.”

Thanks for replying! I love your point about motivation, Dream—it really is an important factoring in directing the narrative

I love this!

Motivation for staying in a situation of unrequited love is also an important factor when writing. Are they emotionally immature and don't realize their feelings, leading to anger/jealousy/a sense of ownership over another? Do they feel as though their feelings are wrong and are fighting themselves using said feelings or societal expectations? Do they value their friendship and occasionally have bursts of romantic thoughts that ebb and flow throughout the decades?

Where they place their feelings as rank of importance in their life will guide a lot of action, and of course, your writing.

Ooh that last line though! So good. Thank you!

[removed]

"You can see them too?" Candace said, with a slight gasp.

Gary blinked. That was a new one. Much more common were excuses like "But they're only staying for a few days!" -- even though Gary didn't bother enforcing a lease's occupancy rules unless his tenant had already had guests staying for more than two weeks.

"You haven't exactly been subtle about it Cand--" he began, but the short blonde woman brought him up short by grabbing his hand.

"Come inside!" she said, excitedly, tugging his arm. He frowned, but allowed himself to be led forward. He'd seen so many of her guests coming and going that he was getting worried about the condition of her unit, and now was as good a time as any to see what the damage was.

The apartment actually didn't too bad, all things considered. That didn't change the fact that she was violating her lease by having all these guests. One of which, he noticed, was standing at the kitchen counter, chopping something with a knife. The woman looked a lot like Candace -- a sister, he guessed.

"Candace, you know the policy on people staying here if they're not on the lease--" he began, but she cut him off again, shaking her head vigorously.

"Gary, I don't have any guests!" she said, excitedly, sounding almost manic. She jerked a thumb at the other woman. "She does!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. Was she...on something? "Look, your name is on the lease -- that means that legally you're the only one allowed to stay here, and you're responsible for keeping it that way!"

"Tell her to go, then." Candace said, with a shrug.

He scowled. Now she was just being childish. Nonetheless, he turned to address her sister. "Ma'am, I don't know what Candace has told you, but she can't have people staying here long term. You and whoever else you brought with you need to go."

The woman just kept chopping.

Candace smirked. "Not so easy, huh? Here, let me try to get her attention for you."

Candace walked behind the counter and over to the stove, where she picked up a frying pan. Before Gary could stop her, she swung it at the other woman's head.

He started to shout at her to stop, but his cry died on his lips as the pan passed right through Candace's sister, then did so several more times as Candace fanned it through the air where the woman stood.

"W-what the..." he stammered, eyes bulging as Candace thoroughly demonstrated the immateriality of her houseguest.

She tested the pan on her shoulder. "See?"

Gary's shuddered, staring at the apparition, "H-how is that...how are you doing that?"

She laughed, incredulously . "I'm not doing anything! Uo until five minutes ago, I thought I was going insane."

"So...so ghosts are real." he said, with an air of resignation. He already had enough on his plate without adding ghosts into it. Oddly, he found himself wondering if this was a maintenance issue as per Candace lease -- did he have to hire ghostbusters, or was it her responsibility?

"I thought that too, at first. But nah, I don't think so." she mused, setting down the pan, and gesturing to the incorporeal woman. "For one thing, I don't have any sisters, dead or otherwise, and my mom and grandma are both alive."

"Maybe...maybe like your great grandmother, or something? Somebody that, you know, died young?" he offered, uneasily.

"Hm...maybe, but in a pair of jeans and a tank top, though?" she pointed out. "That's not how women dressed, way back when. I don't understand how, but I think she looks like me because she is me, like some kind of...I dunno, other me."

Gary hesitantly stepped closer, eyeing the apparition cautiously. Now that he was close, he could see she was chopping at nothing.

"So this...other Candace, she can't see or hear us?"

"Nope. None of them can, as far as I can tell." she said.

They both jumped as the woman suddenly looked up at them, and Candace let out a startled squeak. But the woman seemed to be looking past them. She set down the knife, and the utensil vanished, as she walked around the counter towards the door.

"Crap," Candace breathed, letting out a sigh, as they watched her walk past, and open the door. But behind the door was another door, which remained close, and the door she opened vanished as she removed her hand from the knob. "Always scares the bejeezus outta me when they do that."

"Why are there two doors?" Gary groaned. This was getting worse by the minute.

"One for us, one for them, maybe?" Candace said. "I think we can only see ghost-stuff when there's a ghost touching it."

"I thought you said they weren't ghosts?" Gary pointed.

"I meant not like dead-people ghosts." she said, uncertainly. "But they're people who you can see but aren't really there, so it still fits, more or less."

Gary watched the Other-Candace mutely talking to the closed door, and frowned, curiously.

"Who's she talking to?"

"Another ghost, I'd assume. We can't see them because the door -- the real door -- is in the way, I guess." Candace replied.

Cautiously, Gary stepped forward, and reaching past Other-Candace, he opened the apartment door.

Gary froze, his eyes widening as he saw the apparition she was speaking to. A tired-looking woman with auburn hair, dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, was talking animatedly to Other-Candace, though he of course couldn't hear what she was saying.

Candace frowned. "Huh. I haven't seen her before. Not one of other-me"s guests. I wonder who she is?"

"That's...that's my wife." Gary replied, hoarsely. "She died last year."

> It was a warm day, perfect for a long and unpleasant conversation on a porch

Made me laugh, what a character.

Plot twist: you just exterminated all life in the future. In order to fulfill your wish, all humans are killed.

"Have a seat," she said, "Do you want any tea?"

"Trying to poison me are you?" Martha snaped, "No, I will be gone soon, once I get the proof I need."

The girl emerged from the kitchen a minute later with a steaming cup of tea.

"Suit yourself," she said lightly, as if defeated. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it's just us girls living here."

"I saw with my own eyes!" Martha said, "All those people arrived but they didn't leave!"

"Do you remember what most of them were wearing when you saw them?" the girl said. "Or any other details about them?"

Martha thought back to the people she had recently seen arriving. They were all smartly dressed, the women wore dresses and then men looked like Mark when he started his first corporate job. Now that she mentioned it, they had been dressed in older fashions. Martha narrowed her eyes.

"What are you saying?" she asked with narrowed eyes. The girl's gaze peeled away from Martha's and fell towards her steaming tea cup.

"I did a bad thing," she nearly whispered, "I-I dabbled with forces I should not have. The other girls haven't been home in weeks because of it and I can't afford this place without their help. But they couldn't live with what I did and I don't blame them."

"Stop talking in riddles," Martha snapped, "You truly take me for the biggest fool around. I know what I saw, I have pictures!" Martha took out her phone and turned the pictures towards the girl whose eyes washed over them briefly. The sides of the girl's mouth lifted slightly.

"My grandma used to tell me how people close to death could see ghosts." the girl gave Martha a pointed look as she took a sip of her tea. "I never believed her of course. But last week I accidently called upon a force that will kill me in a few days. And then the ghosts started to come. They watch me, taunt me, call to me, tell me strange secrets. I promise you Martha, there are only ghosts here."

She let her last words linger and the hair on Martha's arms lifted. She turned the phone towards herself but realized with a cold terror that there were no people in those pictures, just blurry backgrounds captured quickly.

"You mean besides you and me?"

A man walked into the room, the same man with the suitcase. He was almost blurry, or out of focus, or moving too fast for the human eye to catch. He removed his hat and Martha gasped, nearly falling out of her chair which would have been awful for her hip.

"Hello darling," Mark said. "I'm here to take you to the other side."

Martha looked helplessly back at the girl but she was now different. Her eyes were red and her skin pale.

"Like I said," the girl whispered, "There are only ghosts in here."

-End

(Edited to add the "conclusion" to Martha taking pictures)

Martha's husband used to deal with the rentals, and she liked it much better that way. But since he had so unfairly died before she did, it was now her responsibility to tend to both the properties and the tenants.

Now, Martha had always known that she isn't exactly "good with people." She had been told by everyone that ever knew her that she was difficult, abrasive, and overall unfriendly. This last descriptive marker made her feel more proud than she let on. You see, Martha has always enjoyed arguments and overall unpleasant conversations. They make her feel a light inside her soul, like a warrior on a battlefield, two arrows stuck in them raising their sword for the final kill.

It thrilled her, the art of the argument. But, when having to conduct herself in a more professional setting Martha had always let her rabid-dog-like conversational skills run in full capacity and it had resulted in multiple firings and a few annoying court proceedings afterwards.

Martha pulled the curtain back a little more to get a better look at the small rancher-style home that was located across the street. Some part of her did love that home. She had initially picked it out for her and her husband to start a family inside. But Mark thought it was beneath him, and so he purchased the far larger and nicer home across the street and gave Martha a rather unhappy surprise when, on moving day, he blindfolded her and revealed that this hunk of junk was her "real" new home.

Martha was devastated and she chose to show this emotional distress by sprinkling little offences or inconveniences in her husbands life for the entirety of their marriage. A rock in the toe of his shoe here, a hem sewed slightly off center there, a missing sock that returned only to go missing again right away, and many other little things that made Mark begin believe he was the unluckiest man alive.

Despite it's small size, the rancher had a beautiful interior and three rooms. It would have been more than enough room for a small family and then they could've upgraded when the other three little ones came along. But, alas, Martha never got what she wanted. She always got something, but it was never what she wanted.

And Mark had doomed Martha to a life where she had to watch other people misuse her beloved home and feel entitled to it. She fantasized about just burning the place to the ground and everyone inside.

But she would never actually do that... she didn't think.

Over the many years Martha made life at that little blue rancher as annoying and inconvenient as possible for the unlucky souls who chose to rent from her and her husband. She always started off strong with a nice dress and a batch of freshly baked cookies that she would drop off on moving day. She would play the friendly neighbor and concerned landlord to make her unsuspecting victims feel safe and happy. And then she would take off the mask and let her true colors shine brightly.

Martha liked to remember the "good-old-days" but she was nearly 70 now and her games and inconveniences were far less interesting and complex. She had gone from the perfect performer to the bitter old lady who, due to lack of creativity, chose to be simply awful to deal with and that did cause some annoyance and distress for her tenants, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying for Martha.

Martha's small green eyes darted towards a man dressed in a long black coat who was strolling down the street, pulling a suitcase behind him. Martha smiled, snapped a blurry picture on her old phone, and recorded the incident in her notebook.

Three people had arrived at the little rancher in the last few days, all of them with luggage. Martha could feel something exciting building. It had been years since she had ammo, had some good reason to confront her unsuspecting tenants.

Usually, Martha and Mark wanted the house to be rented by a family, but since a lot of people had fallen on hard times, this last time Martha rented her house to three young women who were studying at the University. Martha grinned a terrible grin. These girls thought they could just move in their boyfriends and friends without her noticing?

Martha saw everything.

With a small burst of energy Martha grabbed her walking stick and put on her best hat. Her old bones were nearly buzzing with excitement. She couldn't wait to see the look on those girls faces when she screamed at them and reminded them that only they could live there. She couldn't wait to put those good-for-nothing girls out on the streets. She hadn't been this excited since Mark fell ill and the doctor told her he was going to die.

She closed her door behind her and squinted in the sunshine. It was a warm day, perfect for a long and unpleasant conversation on a porch. Martha made her way slowly down the stairs and across the street. She had a slight limp due to a bad hip and she had to struggle a little to get up the three stairs that led to the blue door of the blue home.

Martha raised her cane and knocked loudly on the door three times.

After a moment the door opened shyly and the youngest girl with brown eyes and copper hair stood behind it. Her eyes were tired and she smiled weakly at Martha.

"Hi," she said, "Can I help you?"

"I know what you're doing in there," Martha hissed, hardly able to control herself, "I know all about it. Moving in your boyfriends and your friends. You thought you could trick me? I am going to ruin all of your lives." The girl seemed taken aback, but not because of Martha's threat and that angered Martha so she continued, "You don't think I see all the people you've had over in the last few days?!" she held up the notebook for proof, "It's all recorded in here. I just saw a man with his luggage come over. You are in breach of your rental agreement and I will ensure none of you ever get comfortable housing again!"

The girl blinked and opened her mouth only to close it and blink again. This angered Martha. She wanted to scream and fight but this girl was giving her no kindling for her fires. After another long second the girl leaned forwards, looked around as if worried someone else would hear their conversation and said in a tiny voice, "You can see them too?"

Anger erupted inside Martha like a storm crashing against the shore. So this young lady was going to play it like that? Make Martha, the old woman, think she was losing her marbles? How dare she.

"Don't play stupid with me, girl" Martha growled, "I have pictures and evidence. If you think you're being funny you are not and-" The girls eyes went wide and she put her hands up in defense.

"No," she said, "I'm sorry, I'm not mocking you. I-" she turned around, her eyes sweeping the living room before she pushed the door open more and nodded to the side, "You might as well come in."

Martha, looking like nothing more than an elderly toddler on the cusp of a meltdown huffed but took a step inside. Her curiosity was too intense and if she was inside she'd be able to spot these girl's secrets.

The interior of the home was beautiful, original wood floor, a brick fireplace. Martha sighed as her old eyes wandered around her would-be-home. She wished so badly for things to have been different. She could've found happiness if things had been different.

The girl walked towards the kitchen and motioned towards the living room.

It is good beginning. The oddest thing is just the way what you written is displayed.

Unregistered Tenants

“Anthony, I need to talk to you about the unregistered tenants I’ve seen coming and leaving your apartment. You signed a lease for a studio apartment and we only allow up to one extra person living there on a regular basis, plus with the fire marshal I legally can’t allow you living with more than three people in that size of an apartment.”

“You can see them too?”

“What?”

“The others. They live within the walls of my apartment, taking on the forms of inanimate objects or strange alien beings when they come home. They only look human when they leave.”

“Just what are you talking about?”

“I’ve told them that there’s no need to assume human forms when they venture into the outside. Only I can see them, but they’re a paranoid bunch and take on people’s forms just in case somebody else has the gift. I suppose their paranoia has been proven justified.”

“Anthony? Are you okay? I can consult a mental health care official you need it.”

“We have plans. Plans that you or anybody else if allowed to see. Big ones. Oh I wish I could let you see them, you’ve been an amazing landlord. Great rent in a fantastic part of town. A steal if really. My friends - no, not the ones from the the other realm, my tangible friends - are jealous.”

“Well I’m flattered to hear that. I like to think that we provide affordable housing and terrific customer service to our many tenants. We didn’t win the best leasing managers in the city five years in a row for nothing. But as you must know- Hey, let go of me!”

“I’m sorry, I really am. But my friends - the intangible ones from another realm - and I can’t let you interfere. We have big plans and we’re just so so close. As an entrepreneur yourself you must understand.”

“I said let go. No, don’t shut the door. Ahhh!”

“Big plans. Big plans indeed. Friends, can you show her to the ritual closet? I think she’ll make a great beta tester for our first incantation.”

“Please, I’ll do anything. I won’t tell a soul. What are those? Tentacles? Please! Pl-“

“Her voice a faint muffle now. I told ya’ll that sound proofing was necessary for a ritual space in the modern world. Apartments are too cramped with paper thin walls nowadays. We’ll check back in a few hours to see if dar’goth is satisfied with his first sacrifice. How about we watch some Netflix in the meantime? I hear Physical 100 is pretty good.”

——

Thank you for reading! For more stories like this please feel free to check out /r/QuadrantNine for my past works. I recommend The Humans if you’re looking for a dialogue only story, or Pretty Eyes if you’re looking for a darker story (side note: Pretty Eyes is only on my archival website right now and not my subreddit).

Edit: if you liked this story then I definitely recommend you check out the 5000 word sequel that I wrote in response to another writing prompt titled Code Inspection. It deals with the old god, now possessing the landlord's body as he tries to build a temple to himself on top of the apartment building. It's a fun romp!

      The human, that I allow to live with me, has just informed me that I will be going to a vet. I am grateful at the moment because the "vet" sounds like a fine establishment. Henceforth I will allow my human to take me to this "vet".

       As we enter the loud, beeping, wheel device. I can see that my human I very nervous. Normally I would give it some lovely scratches to calm it. But I was in my divine carrier. So I've decided while my human suffers I shall take a nap while the human nerves increase.

      I'm awakened by a vile shaking of my carrier, and the sounds of a bell, that is much louder than my bell toys. I'm set down on something similar to what the human creates my food on. And a conversation between the humans commences, well more like gibberish between the words. "Appointment", "Spaying", and "Tomorrow." While these words mean nothing to me my human leaving does concern me. The female human on the chair grabs my carrier with little force, but enough to jostle me. I am taken to the back where I'm dropped into a cage. Honestly, sometimes humans are horrible at obeying their cats' commands. I decide to look out of these sticks holding me in this containment. And I am thoroughly disgusted by this establishment. While I'm am practically thinking about perishing to avoid touching this place anymore. A human with a clipboard opens my containment and grabs me. Unwilling of this interaction I bit the human, and the human proceed to restrain me with its arms in a successful manner. I am then injected with something that makes me feel woozy and tired. Content with my situation I allow myself to sleep.

      When I awaken I have a cone on my neck, distraught I throw my head around my containment. After a while of doing that, I grow tired and rest only to realize I'm missing something...My children storage is gone?! Distraught I let out a heinous yowl, I tire myself out and fall asleep distraught and never trusting again.

(First time writing so alot mistakes)

Checking the footage, I could see people going in and out of the tenants home, the way they moved was odd. There was no motion to imply that they opened or closed the front door as they were entering my tenants home. The camera angle doesn’t capture the front of the door, only the hallway, it seemed that they just walked right through. Though every time I’ve visited my tenant to remind him of rent he’s never as much as budged the door an inch to answer me.

Not one to leave the apartment either, piles of food outside, Panda Express, McDonalds, empty pizza boxes with the crusts still in them. Who leaves the crust of the pizza anyway? Pretty much a jobless lowlife for all I know. Probably a junkie who smokes up the place with the ol’ devils lettuce with a buddy or two.

“Mr. Piers, your rent is due, you’re three months late. Not to mention you’ve not paid rent for the last three months either. Do you want me to bring a lawyer? I’ve got plenty of time to spare and I can file your eviction quicker than you can order another Panda Express, and so God help me if you don’t clean up your trash on your front door, I’m really going to get pissed.”

I kicked away some boxes to make way to his door and knocked on it playfully, akin to a child desperately trying to get his parents attention. I didn’t even need the money, I just liked messing with the guy.

“Do you hear me? We need to talk right now.”

‘Piss off, get a life you gold sucking bitch. I ain’t got time for you.’

I could hear what sounded like the flicking of a steel lighter on the other side of the door. I knew it. A junkie.

“Excuse me?” I jingled the “master keys” in front of his door. Little does he know those were just my car keys and the jingling noise was from a cute little keychain I attached to it.

“Want me to come in there myself and drag your ass out?” I pretended to insert the “master key” into his lock while jiggling the knob.

‘Fine fine, fuck outta here Robert, the fuck do you want?’ He nudged open the door an inch hitting it on the frame, the door chain jangling loudly from the impact, then looked me in the eye.

“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier, the rent dumbass. Also, I can see from the camera footage that you’ve got people going in and out of your place. That’s fine for visitation hours but I’m pretty sure I don’t see them leave sometimes. That is absolutely not allowed under any circumstances, period.”

‘Shit, you can see them too?’

“Yeah I can see them. The other tenants can see them. My security guys can see them. What does that matter. The fact they show up on the camera is proof enough that you’re full of shit.” I smirked cheekily, Mr. Piers here looks like he was about to shit bricks.

‘Fuck. I suggest you get the fuck outta here Robert. I’m serious Robert. S-E-R-I-O-S.’

“That’s now how you spell serious but okay. And no, I don’t think I will.” I decided to humour him. At this point I was just taking the piss, he’s probably high as a kite anyway, this was fun.

‘Come in.’ He sounded defeated, probably from me annoying the hell out of the guy. He unhooked the door chain and invited me in.

If the outside of his home was a mess, the inside was beyond a mess. Weird drawings and symbols strewn across the walls on sheets of paper that looked like they were printed in the 1800s. At the centre of the living room was a weird circle drawn in…dried blood? It was surrounded by wax candles of varying sizes.

“What the hell did you do to my unit Piers?!”

‘Shhh shhh, shut the fuck up. I’ll show you. Take out your phone and look at the camera footage again, slowly this time.’

“What about it?”

‘Notice how there aren’t any shadows on the people walking in?’ I reviewed the footage, increased the brightness, and still couldn’t see what he wanted me to see.

“It’s in 480p, I can’t even make out a man from a woman in this pixelated crap, your point?”

He sighed, tugged my hand and dragged me closer to his summoning circle and began chanting in a language I don’t understand.

‘Now place your hand in front of you.’

An invisible force stopped my hand, slowly, something materialised and a visage of what looked like a human appeared.

“Holy shit. What the fuck?!” I recoiled backwards.

‘These are my uhh…servants. They uh…do stuff for me, keeps food on the table. They were not meant to be seen, seems I got sloppy, either that or a prick like you got a priest to live in the compound now. So…you now know my secret, I’m going to have to ask you to forget what you saw and delete all the footage. Otherwise, I’ll have to…’ He made a clicking sound while motioning his hand like a pair of scissors.

The visage followed and made an arcing slice with its…appendages.

“S-s-sure, fine. Whatever.” I stumbled backwards and ran for the door. Behind me I could hear him loudly exclaiming.

‘Don’t even bother coming next time, dickhead. And while you’re at it, turn the fucking security cams off.’

Your question has been logged. Expect a response in 22 years.

Wait, is that a response in 18 years, or just an acknowledgment they received the request in 18 years? An acknowledgement in 18 years is fast, but nothing incredibly surprising. An actual response in that time would be amazing.

Sometimes a necessary evil unfortunately. Heh. Although I have seen few videos where a dog especially is loving the blow dryer.

Well, maybe not Tyranids. By the lore, it's the hive queens that cause the tyranid to make them fight beyond DESTROY ALL LIFE. They are a real plague upon the galaxy. An ork snotling with squigs to act as the local garbage dump? That makes a little more sense. Orks are a little better at seeing sense.

There's also the Adeptus Sororitas, and of course the Adeptus Militarum, two very prominent "departments" of the Imperium.

[removed]

Is 05-13 suppose to be the big E ?

Life. The thing it despised most, what it thought was no more, had returned like a persistent gnat. The Kakistan ships each began to zip into deep space, many colliding with each other, creating ripples in space that further stirred the monstrous SCP. The remainder that were too cautious and slow had their escape cut off as 682 maneuvered them into its looming maw. Sensing that some areas of space-time possessed a higher quantity of energy than the rest, it followed the trail the Kakistans had left upon their dip into hyperspace. Slowly but surely making way towards them.

Glamix aboard the cruising mother ship sat in the former Captains chair doing his species's equivalent of hyperventilating. Though the intruder they had found aboard their mothership calmed him, an orange blob that he allowed to sit in his lap. He slowly caressed its top.

[Captain, what do we do with the intruder?]

[Let it be. It shall be serve as a gift of appeasement to our queen should our evidence somehow prove inefficient. Whatever this creature is, it seems to be capable of quelling negative emotion. It has also gifted me with an interesting document 📃 that I believe we can decipher.]

[Do you think it has something to do with the ... thing ... we saw back there?]

[Perhaps ... perhaps.]

The Kakistans would go on and make it back to their queen. Their evidence and the calming aura of the orange blob would prove sufficient enough to prevent their queen's eradication of her armada. It would also instill a fear in her that would compel their species to move to a planet within the farthest reaches of the ever-expanding universe. The document 📃 they had obtained was eventually was deciphered, it's contents telling them of mysterious beings, entities and anomalies that they had known nothing of. Though it had a page torn out. Coincidentally, the more they read the document, the more frequently the entities from the document seemed to appear on their planet. The Kakistans never seemed to make this connection, or perhaps it was the will of the document 📃 that compelled them to keep reading it. They'd eventually create a foundation upon which to contain these ever appearing anomalies.

After many many millions of years, their decision to move to the farthest reaches of the universe would prove fruitful. 682 would arrive, its mass significantly reduced due to it not slumbering, burning too much energy and being unable to sustain its size. It would crash onto their planet and consume anything in its path in an attempt to regain it's former mass. Warned by their ancestors the Kakistans were ready however and would capture it, having formed what they now called the S.C.P. foundation, they eventually worked out that the though they could not slay it, acid proved to be an effective means of containing it. They would conduct many tests to eradicate 682 resulting in a 100% failure rate. Eventually they would consider using their super weapon, The Light, an idea which the pseudo-immortal G5-█ would promptly shut down having learned 682's nature.

> [Yes, it's a goddamn super weapon, but if 682 survives and adapts we'd be boned beyond belief.]

G5-█ would go on to say.

[I'd listen to G5-█. Trust me, you guys don't want to pull the pin on that grenade.] Said an amulet wearing Kakistan.

[What's a 'grenade?']

Update: Dr. Klight is no longer allowed to demonstrate metaphorical phrases derived from their other worldly knowledge.

Update: Dr. Klight is no longer allowed to demonstrate metaphorical phrases.

Update: Dr. Klight is no longer allowed to demonstrate.

>nuked themselves to extinction

Oh boy ... this opens the pathway to a scenario the foundation dreaded.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

[Sp- Space Curvature exceeds 2,457,109 C-Captain. 2,457,098 magnitudes above normal. Pr-Procede with conquest?]

[Captain?]

The Kakistan Armada had just entered the solar system via hyperdrive having picked up readings of another planet suitable for life ... and slaves. Being there in the flesh, they now possessed accurate readings that made them question if their equipment was now outdated. Glamix turned around to find their Captain in a pool of blood on the ground. Looking to one of their coworkers, they made a neck slicing motion indicating that the Captain had ended their own life. That was all Glamix needed to see.

[The Captain has honored his vow of self-termination come we face a mission he deems unachievable.] Glamix suggested over the comms. [It is pretty clear that we should retreat.]

The comms static'd

[Nonsense! He was a coward!]

[Yes! There is no planet we shan't conquer!]

Glamix could hear the doubt in their voices. He knew they didn't really believe that.

[You all have the readings ... why continue with this mission!?]

[Because Glamix, return without results is certain death. You know this.]

And Glamix did know this. They were on the edge of the starless and seemingly empty Solar System. Nowhere near their destination. If they returned now, their queen would believe them deserters and kill the entire armada with but a single thought. They were replaceable. While they could present the readings, the readings were too ridiculously high for her not to believe that they made them up. They'd need proof that the mission had no chance for success ... they'd have to continue onward ... they needed something tangible.

[Fine. As second in command I now impose myself as Captain.] Glamix placed the mantle atop his head to seal his position.

[Shah Shah!] The voices on the comms sounded off in acknowledgement. He had felt no one would challenge this as being Captain placed majority of the responsibility on him. There was a chance their queen would only punish him. A small chance, but a chance nonetheless.

[We continue to our destination, not for conquest but for confirmation that our goal is unachievable. We need something tangible. Ignite the burners!] The Armada relatively slowly (in comparison to light speed) ventured closer to their destination. After but a minute they had arrived at their destination. Nothing was there. Despite their readings of a planet being there, they saw nothing.

[Captain ...]

Glamix was at a loss for words. He genuinely didn't know what to do. Taking a chance he gave an order.

[Fire the light at the destination.]

[But Sir there is noth-]

[Fire the light! There has to be something! They could be using a cloak! There could be a wormhole we aren't picking up! Something has to be there!]

[Yes, Captain.]

The ships ahead of Glamix's cleared as his rumbled. Their super weapon whirred to life, a glob of destabilized energy contained with a condensed fluid bubble of light formed at its head. The planet ending projectile fired off, rocking the mothership and causing some of the lesser ships to gravitate towards it and have to use their thrusters to counteract its pull.

The glob continued to where the planet was straight into the empty space. Only the space was not empty. The blast went off, creating an explosion that exhibited an array of color and light that would blind most other species instantly. Kakistans were fortunate to have triple layered eyes. Unfortunately for the Kakistans, that meant the blast had collided with something and collide it did. For once the light faded, the cloak of the pure white planet went down. Then back up ... then back down. A single continent rolled down to the planet's center.

Of course this being a planet is what everyone wanted to tell themselves as a coping mechanism, for they knew it was not a planet. It was but merely a blinking eye.

#"Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiife"

The voice resonated within all their minds in a similar fashion as their Queen, but more intimidating and painful. It induced an instinctual fear that the Kakistans had never experienced the likes of.

[Has this been documented.]

[Yes, Captain. May we leave?]

[Yes. Now. Disregard all safety protocols, everyone is to engage their hyperdrives.]

[Shah Shah!] The voices on the comms sounded off in unison ... in fear.

Engaging hyper drive was typically a systematic process for the Kakistans. This was to prevent them from crashing into each other. However the scenario before them presented a metaphor that need not be spoken:

> Every Kakistan for themselves.

As the ships of the Armada lumbered to turn around, more than the eye became visible. Scaly skin that mirrored the space behind it as camouflage slowly lightened its shade to now be visible. Upon the day humanity had simultaneously nuked themselves to extinction, they had wiped themselves out. The SCPs that would otherwise survive a situation did not have long to process their remaining existence and perished as well. For there was one SCP that had waited patiently for something like that to happen. One that yearned for its freedom and the eradication of all.

682, as the humans deemed it, had almost died from the single stray nuke that had hit his containment. Unfortunately for humanity, SCP's and planet Earth alike ... it was only a single nuke. A second would have finished the job, but no ... it was only one. One that spared a small fragment of him from vaporization, but a small fragment was all that 682 needed. 682 would adapt to overcome any threat it faced and it oooooh so did adapt. Failing to prevent wars, failing to prevent the stray nuke, only one person immediately was aware of their immanent demise while everyone else cheered at the facility's destruction. To quote the foundation head known as O5-█ many years prior:

> Yes, it's a goddamn nuke, but if 682 survives and adapts we'd be boned beyond belief.

They'd sipped a mug of coffee as they watched the missile through their window. Nevertheless, 682 had consumed the energy to prevent its own erasure and gained the necessary mass to subsequently consume everything else ... that it knew of. Content with the void it had created, 682 had entered a deep slumber. A dream that was meant to last forever. The slumber of the eldritch, a slumber that would eventually create a new reality. However, it is within the innate nature of all life to eradicate the alarm clock that wakes them. Primordial instinct some would say. 682 and the Kakistans served no exception to this principle. Though drowsy, 682 had awoken once more and witnessed them, life besides its own had awakened it.