"Greetings, Initiate. I trust the travel has been smooth," the Chapter Master said to the young man before him.

"I can't complain, my lord," the man replied respectfully. "I'm eager to prove myself, my lord. I've only heard... rumours about the nature of our work here, but I can assure you that I will do my utmost-"

"There'll be time for that, yes," the Chapter Master rushed to say. "Now - let's get the introductory tour going, shall we?"

The young man nodded enthusiastically and the two walked into the grand, ornate halls of the Imperium Anomaliae.

"Here in the Imperium Anomaliae," the Chapter Master started reciting effortlessly, having given the introductory speech, "you will work alongside others to protect the Imperium and the Galaxy from hostile forces that are of... alien nature."

"Xenos, my lord?" the man asked.

"No, Initiate," the Chapter Master laughed. "We're older than that. And no, not the forces of Chaos either. What we do is... more important than that. We are talking about things that break the rules of the universe itself; that even the Warp would fail to understand. We are all that's between the Galaxy and utter bedlam."

"I'm... not sure I follow, my lord."

"You must understand that our organization predates The Imperium itself. We've kept humanity safe throughout its ancient history, throughout the Dark Age of Technology, throughout the Horus Heresy, and we shall continue to do so before."

"But if this is older than The Imperium itself... what was this called before?"

The Chapter Master turned to him with a subtle smile on his face.

"The SCP Foundation," he said. "Now - let's meet your supervisor."

He opened the door and the two saw a horrific sight - a tall, metal figure stood in the dark room, clutching a staff buried halfway into a human corpse. The figure turned to face them, the green light emanating from their face showing what resembled a blank expression. The Initiate immediately drew his weapon but the Chapter Master grabbed his hand with a vice-like grip, preventing him from taking aim.

"Chapter Master," the figure said in a cold, emotionless voice.

"Namaerekh," the Chapter Master responded politely. "This is the Initiate we have talked about."

"Ah. Very good," Namaerekh replied and turned back to the corpse, the green crystal atop his staff glowing lightly.

"My lord, this- this is a Necron!"

"Correct, Initiate," the Chapter Master replied, still holding his hand.

"The Xenos must be here to destr-"

"Initiate," the Chapter Master interrupted, "you must leave behind your old hate and prejudices. What we do here transcends these petty squabbles. We are here to protect life itself," he said and cast a quick look at the Necron Lord, "in all its forms."

Finally, the Initiate eased his grip on his bolter and slowly holstered it.

"Good," the Chapter Master commended. "You said you wished to prove yourself. A good way to start is not to fire at your superior. Lord Namaerekh is our chief Xenobiologist. You will answer directly to him."

The Necron pulled the staff out of the human body and turned to the two humans.

"Initiate Pelagius. I have seen your records. You have shown excellent aptitude and I trust you will perform your duties to the best of your ability."

Pelagius nervously looked at the Chapter Master who gave him a reassuring nod.

"Thank you... my... lord," Pelagius answered with audible uncertainty.

"News, Namaerekh?" the Chapter Master asked.

"As we feared. The body shows clear signs of Theta-Alpha-07 corruption. Another instance of it must've been created. It must be apprehended at once."

Pelagius, feeling a bit more in his element, spoke up.

"Just tell me the target and I will see it destroyed," he said.

"Destroyed? No, Initiate," the Necron explained. "We do not destroy things we do not understand; the repercussions of that could be a hundredfold worse than their existence."

"Then... what do we do?"

"We Secure. We Contain. And," the Necron said and looked at the Chapter Master, "we Protect."

Are you familiar with the Trolley Problem?

A common moral thought exercise. There is a runaway trolley heading down a track - a track on which there is a group of people, unable to get out of the way. You have the option to flip a lever and redirect the trolley onto an adjacent rail with a single person on it. This person will die, but you will save the lives of the group.

Do you do it?

Inaction causes greater death. But if you pull the lever? That death is a direct result of your actions. It is your fault.

Not a terribly easy choice, is it?

Now imagine having that be a power. And you have me. Lucky ol' me.

I can save... dozens of people with the flick of my hand. But someone will die. Someone innocent, so I can't just go through death row inmates with a clear conscience. And I have to choose who dies, someone in my vicinity. I have to look them in the eye. See their expression. Grief, anger, sadness, but worst of all... they don't understand why.

It fucking sucks. But not doing anything? It's worse. Not that it helps me sleep at night.

​

Look, what I'm trying to say is... I'm sorry. I am truly, truly sorry. But this will save 14 people, 6 of which are children. It won't hurt.

I hope you understand.

​

I'm sorry.

I am getting a slight feeling you might have medical experience.

No clue why I'd think that.

Well written!

"That'll be 9 dollars, sir," I said as I handed the man before me the pizza.

"Oh, uh," he said, tapping his pockets, "just put it on the table here. Forgot my wallet in the living room."

I smiled politely and stepped into the cramped foyer. Putting the pizza on the nearby table, I looked around casually. Nothing of interest, really. Coats, muddy shoes, things I've seen hundreds of times during my time as a pizza delivery boy. With my hands in my pockets, I slowly took a few steps towards the living room to meet the man halfway-

-and tripped. A rug on the floor the corner of which was flipped, creating enough of an obstacle.

It was as if time slowed around me until I finally managed to find stable footing at the last possible moment. Then, a sickening feeling came over me like someone threw my head into a dryer and set it to max. I grabbed my brow with a pained expression just as the man turned the corner, cash in hand.

"Whoa, you alright?" he said as he saw my state.

"Ye- yeah, just... sudden vertigo," I said and looked at him. My eyes went wide - something about him was unsettling. I looked down; the carpet was gone. It was never there. "It happens sometimes," I added nervously.

"Well, here, there's 10, keep the change."

"Than- thanks," I said and hurriedly left the apartment. Walking as fast as I could, I took deep breaths and tried to piece together what just happened.

Apart from the fact that I died.

Funny thing about this city; you don't die from accidents. Or, rather, you do but just before you bite it, your consciousness gets transferred into an alternate world where the circumstances were just different enough for you to survive, like a car going one mile slower making a hit into a narrow miss. No idea why it's only us from this city - an experiment gone wrong. More wrong for me. See, when you transport, you don't know you died. You think you had a close call. But I remember. My deaths, the details, all of it. Just takes a second for me to piece it all together.

And, for the first time, I realize that the definition of "dying from an accident" may be broader than I realized. Explains why the man unsettled me.

When I tripped, I didn't die from the fall.

I died because I fell head-first into the living room and saw the bodies.

Glad you liked it!

The crows eat carrion - a more foresty version of vultures.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?

Sorta.

I was born with this... thing. I'm not an active observer in the eyes of the universe. I know, I know - it sounds ridiculous, but here's the brunt of it. Things only happen when there is an active observer of that given event... apparently. The countless scientists that have flocked around me since my birth keep saying things of that nature but I'll be damned if I understand them. Something about quantum physics. And since, for whatever reason, I do not count as an observer, I know what happens when things lie somewhere between happening and not happening. So, what is it?

It's weird. And it's beautiful.

I've flipped a coin when no one was around and called heads, tails, and falling on its edge. I was correct. I've heard Schrödinger's cat meow in that box, knowing it was and was not dead. I have unironically answered something with 'yesn't'. But most importantly, I've seen the cracks.

When things go unobserved long enough, these breaks start to form, almost as if reality was about to fracture. It's like glass that's been cracked and the rift is slowly expanding as you hear the creaking noise, knowing it can give at any moment. Every time it gets too big, someone or something comes along to observe it and - it was never there. Always wondered what would happen if one of those... broke. Truly and completely. Maybe one already has and I don't know it.

There's one behind your left ear right now, you know?

Oh, don't worry. Someone will come along soon enough. Or just use a mirror. You won't see it there. It will never have been there.

Anyway! I really should get going. Another round of tests back at the lab. Thanks for the coffee.

I'll be seeing you.

Metaphorically speaking.

I'm glad I was able to convey that style well, it was exactly what I was going for.

"Oh, don't worry. I know a guy. See my cousin Pedro - you know Pedro, he's this little guy with a lisp, kids have always bullied him for it but he's gotten a lot better since he's started working with that doctor, the language doctor, whatever they're called - see, Pedro knows a guy, a banker-type fella, works in Wall Street he says, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"So this Wall Street guy says 'Look, Pedro, my good friend, whom I cherish like the brother I have so tragically lost in a bus accident when I was but a wee boy, spawning a life-long disdain towards public transport, I know this will be immensely useful to you. The wood market in Brazil is going up, so you really should invest now.' Now, Pedro, he's smart, right?"

"Yep."

"So Pedro asks 'But Brian' - that's the Wall Street guy ya see - 'How do you know about that? Isn't that insider trading?' And Brian just goes 'See Pedro, you're smart, but don't worry. See, I know a guy, a local in Brazil, Emmanuel is his name, and we had brunch recently when he was visiting - you know the little place on 6^(th) street, with the great garlic bread - and he tells me 'Brian, my good friend, you know about the Brazillian wood mafia' and Brian goes 'Why, I do not, Emmanuel my good friend, please do tell me' so Emmanuel-"

"DUDE!"

"What?"

"Do you have a pencil I can borrow or not?"

"Oh. Sure, here you go. Got LOADS of pencils nowadays - I was just getting to that, you see? Because Emmanuel apparently knew that Brian would like to invest in..."

Hate to disappoint, but I rarely do second parts. Perhaps you'd enjoy my other stories, however?

Definitely a cool idea, but I wanted to work in Claudia being shocked by her experience of seeing the Sun - had Viktor killed them right away, she wouldn't get a chance to.

Only if you're using old mirrors that contain silver to reflect - modern ones do not and would serve well for vampires.

Not to mention that the stubborn bastards would keep drinking humans; the main thing our protagonist takes issue with.

The young man opened the doors of his study and ushered in the group of far older, distinguished ladies and gentlemen with amicable urgency. The man was a stark contrast to his guests; not only in his age but his attire, too, was far more modest, only wearing a vest as opposed to an elaborate suit or dress.

"Please," he smiled, "I am so glad you all accepted my offer. Do come in."

The group walked in with an air of arrogance and contempt one would expect from nobility or, in this particular case, elder vampires. They sat down in the luxurious leather armchairs prepared for the occasion.

"Very well, Viktor," one of the oldest men said. "What is this all about? We may have all eternity, but not all the patience," he chortled.

"Trust me," Viktor said eagerly, "what I am about to show you will change your lives." He looked expectantly at his guests but when he realized he didn't quite grip their attention yet, nervously continued.

"Up until today," Viktor said, "we have had to rely on a regular intake of human blood to survive. This not only put us in a morally questionable position, it would sometimes endanger our lives and well-being when the human world caught onto our existence - not to mention professional vampire hunters."

"Viktor," one of the women near the front interrupted, "get to the point."

"Y- yes, of course, Miss Cosmescu," he sputtered out. "There is another way."

He reached below his desk and pulled out a leather case containing several syringes. The elders exchanged puzzled looks.

"These are supplements - iron, vitamin D, some designer medications that are not widely available to the human world, but - in short... they remove our dependence on blood. We still need to eat to gain other nutrients and fat but we will no longer need-"

His eager, enthusiastic presentation ended when one of the men laughed loudly, soon joined by almost everyone else in the room.

"Is this it, boy?" the man said when he, at last, stopped laughing. "A way to stop drinking blood?"

Viktor seemed confused. "Yes, we will finally be able to live peacefully with-"

"The cattle?" a woman interrupted. "Why do you think we possibly care about them?"

"They're intelligent beings like we are," Viktor protested. "We have no right-"

"No, boy, we do have the right," another man interrupted. "We are inherently superior. We take what we want. I will not stoop to the level of injecting myself with some trash just to spare the lives of the worms who writhe in the dirt."

"Please, if you would just consider-"

"If this is all, boy," the man interrupted again, "you have wasted enough of our time."

He started standing up, but Viktor raised his hands. "Please! There is... one more thing. Just a minute more of your time, I beg of you!"

The elders sighed collectively but sat back down.

"You are on thin ice, boy," the man hissed.

"I- I'll just need to gather a few items. Please, I will be right back. Claudia," he said and turned to one of the younger handmaidens standing meekly in the corner, "if you would please help me?"

He stepped out of the room together with the woman before sliding the doors shut. He sighed and rested his head against the door itself in defeat.

"Viktor?" Claudia asked. He looked at her with a weak smile, but then narrowed his eyes and his smile grew wider, happier.

"Your eyes... you... you took the supplements," he gasped. She smiled and nodded.

"I saw the Sun today, Viktor," she breathed quietly. "I saw the Sun."

"Did it meet your expectations?"

"I..." she said, but left her mouth open, incapable of describing her feelings, yet the tears that welled up in her eyes told more than enough.

Viktor smiled before slumping back into a defeated slouch as he walked to a panel beside the door and pressed several buttons. A metallic click rumbled the doors, followed by a spooling, rising whoosh of electricity within the room.

"What are you doing?" Claudia asked. Viktor did not turn to face her. He couldn't.

He pressed another button.

A loud, electric buzzing filled the study, a streak of ultraviolet light escaping it just at the threshold of the door. Screaming filled the room, followed by the sickening smell of burning flesh.

Claudia screamed and grabbed Viktor by the shoulder.

"VIKTOR! WHAT DID YOU DO?"

He looked at her somberly.

"They- they left me no choice. I promised I'd change their lives today," he said. "And I keep my promises."

"May you accept this humble offering, oh gods, and watch over me on my travels," I said quietly as I a piece of meat into the fire and bit into the rest.

"You know," a gravely voice suddenly rang out behind me, "I prefer my meat un-burnt."

I darted upwards and turned to see whoever spoke; it was rare for anyone to sneak up on me. A lifetime on the road taught me better. Stranger still, the man before me was old and frail. I was surprised he approached me without snapping a bone, let alone any branches to make a sound.

"Oh, please, please, don't get up," he smiled and walked closer to the fire as if my hand wasn't on the hilt of my sword. "Really. Sit. You're making me feel rude," he chuckled and, with a loud grunt, sat down.

I could see him better now that he was by the fire. He looked well over 70, his face wrinkled and tired, and only wore dusty old rags. A beggar, likely.

"Who are you?" I asked as I sat back down.

"Just a traveller," he said casually. Then, without a sound, he leaned forward and reached into the fire. His hand remained in it for several seconds before he pulled it out holding the piece of meat I threw in. The offering. He put it in his mouth and chewed - I could see that neither his hand nor his rags bore any burn marks.

"You're..." I gasped.

"Yep."

I stood up again, only to fall to my knees.

"Please forgive me, o' Hermes, for I did-"

"Oh please, sit down!" he growled. "Can't stand all this grovelling. You've been on your feet all day, take it easy, will you?"

Slowly, carefully, I resumed my position by the fire but kept staring at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to do next.

"Eat," he commanded. I carefully bit into the meat.

"You're wondering why I'm here, sitting with you, aren't you, Lavrentios?"

I nodded. I couldn't force myself to speak, too afraid of saying something wrong.

He smiled. "Sorry to disappoint, but there is no grand reveal. I'm not about to send you on a mighty quest filled with peril. I just wanted some company. But, if I am not mistaken," he said and his eyes briefly lit up with a golden light, "you are relieved to hear that."

"...yes. Yes, I am."

"I respect that. A man that likes his place in the world. Rare nowadays, I'll say."

He reached deep into his robe and produced a waterskin that he took a long sip out of before offering it to me. I carefully accepted and took a swig - it was wine. The best wine I had ever tasted in my mortal life. I swiftly took another gulp before handing it back.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"I like you, Lavrentios," he suddenly opened. "You're humble. Pious, but not zealous. A capable messenger," he said and nodded towards the bag sitting beside me. "Are you happy with your lot in life?"

"Of course, o' Hermes!" I spurted out quickly.

His eyes glowed gold again.

"Certainly not that happy, but I understand you're nervous talking to me."

He took a deep breath, taking in the fresh night air.

"But," he said, "about your offerings."

Cold sweat ran down my forehead. He reached into his robes again, pulling out... a silver coin. He placed it on a nearby stump and as he did, the moonlight hit it at just the right angle to shine straight into my eyes, forcing me to wince. When I opened them again, the man was nowhere to be seen, though I could hear his voice echo all around me.

"Place them beside the fire next time, would you?"

One that I think about fairly often - this one.

It's not that it's especially unique, but I loved seeing how many completely different stories it spawned. It had classic monster ones, subversive monster ones, secret society, evil superpowers, the variety was fantastic and I still remember them even after all this time.

It was also very early in my writing here, making it stick out in my mind a tad more.

Thank you for the kind words!

I'd be honoured! Please let me know when it's done, I'd love to listen to it!

I did go there first and just couldn't get anyone to look at my draft.

The one guy I did get to look at it kept asking me what the 'resolution' of the article would be which frankly confused me, considering it's a preset article.

I tried putting together an SCP some time ago. It's a REAL bother to even get admins to look at your draft so they approve it.

"Hold your fire, I repeat, hold your fire!!" the soldier at the front of the strike team yelled out, his gun still trained at the blood-soaked man standing in front of him, handgun in hand. When they breached the compound door, they expected many things - a lone researcher was not one of them.

"Oh," the man said with a tired voice, "Mr Harding, is that you under there?"

"Doctor Marchetti?!" the soldier yelled out with audible shock.

"Yes, yes, I- I apologize for my manners, it's just-" Marchetti said and turned around, yet his demeanour was off, slowly, sluggish, like he was in a daze.

"Get me a medic! Doctor, is anyone with you?"

"It's... not my blood," he chuckled slowly. "No, I... don't think, I- I was alone in my office, the gloomhags overrun the facility- there was a breach you see- I-" he said but stumbled forward, unable to stand properly.

"Doc, come on, sit," Harding said and helped the man. "Let me take the gun."

"The... gun? Oh, yes, yes, the... you know, I'm a better shot... than I thought. Maybe I missed... my calling," Marchetti said and slowly handed the soldier his firearm. It was splattered with blood and stank of gunpowder. It seemed that it was not only fired numerous times but used as a blunt weapon as well.

"Alright Doc," Harding continued, "let's get you looked at." He looked the man over and noticed his other hand was clenched tight to the point where the doctor's knuckles turned white. "What's in your other-"

"NO!" Marchetti yelled suddenly with far more vigour than expected, "no no you- you mustn't touch it! It's..." he slowly opened his hand and showed Harding the thus far tightly held brass pocket watch.

"A watch?" Harding said incredulously.

"7663-B," Marchetti said with a slight smile as he slumped back down, his outburst of energy taking its toll.

"Wait, that's-" Harding's face turned pale and he shifted slightly away from the doctor.

"I know... I know, Martin," Marchetti said quietly. "I just- I thought that I could help some of the survivors but there... were none."

Another soldier approached the duo.

"Sir, I need you to step back, I need to take a look at him," he said. Harding turned and saw the red cross on the soldier's uniform.

"I'm- uh, Jenkins, I-" Harding stuttered.

"What he means to say is that you can't help me, sir," Marchetti said. "Used the watch, you see?" he said and weakly lifted his hand. The medic looked at the two men confused.

"It's..." Harding croaked, "it's one of the unique items we store. Compresses the rest of your life into one hour. Gives you..."

"Speed and vigour of many years in one hour to fight off a tide of ugly critters," Marchetti chuckled. He looked at the watch. It was one minute 'till twelve.

"Is there anyone you want us to contact?" Harding solemnly asked.

"Everyone I knew here is dead," Marchetti said. "Just... Miss Laurits in HR, she recruited me."

"I know her, yes."

"Tell her not to blame herself," Marchetti continued. "I may have died here, but... because of the things I have seen here... I've lived as well."

Harding nodded and put his hand on Marchetti's shoulder.

"It's been a pleasure, Doc," Harding said.

"Don't let anyone touch... the watch..." Marchetti said and went limp. The brass timepiece slid out of his hand and hit the concrete floor with a metallic clang.

And the minute hand ticked to midnight.

Remarkable. Regenerative. Abilities.

You see, he does, but his remarkable regenerative abilities...

"For the last time, during the day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti."

I stared at him blankly.

"That makes no sense," I finally concluded.

"I'll admit, it is quite convoluted, but it is what it is," he shrugged and took another sip of his coffee.

"So- I mean like- how?" I sputtered out.

"See, I was born a werewolf. Pureblood, both my parents were lycans. Due to a rare genetic mutation, I have rather remarkable regenerative abilities so when I was bitten by a vampire at 17, I became partially vampire. Every night, to be specific, except the full moon, where the lycanthropy trumps it," he said matter-of-factly.

"This wouldn't be the first time a werewolf got bit by a vampire. It doesn't match. You'd die."

"I did."

I stared at him silently. "Then how are you here?!" I yelled out.

"I got better."

I, once again, stared daggers.

"See, I was dead for quite a while but when the full moon came around, my remarkable regenerative abilities kicked in and I lived once more."

"Right," I said and rubbed my brow, trying to understand the mess. "And the merman part?"

"I was just having a nice evening dip under the full moon, and, well, got bitten by a merman."

"But- mermen don't bite people! They don't eat meat, they don't-"

"Yeah, but this one was really high. He thought I was seaweed because my fur was so wet. Lucky I was a werewolf at the time - my remarkable regenerative abilities allowed me to live through the transformation once again."

"The centaur part?"

"Did you know that horses can bite really hard? Well I do. And it's a really dominant mutation for some reason. Spend most of my time as one, just horsing around" he chuckled, much to my annoyance.

"But... there's no way a dragon bit you. I don't care how much you can heal, there's no surviving that!"

"You're right. I, uh... well, it's a bit embarrassing, but..." he looked down at his feet.

"Well?"

"I bit a dragon."

Oh for fucks sake, I thought.

"See, when I ingested his blood, that was enough. Normally this would kill me, but my-"

"If you say 'remarkable regenerative abilities' one more goddamn time I'll put them to the test," I hissed.

"Uh, well..." he nervously said, "I just survived it. With so many mutations in my body, that one only kicks in during extremely hot weather. Rare around these parts, unlike that bloody yeti part."

"And that happened when..." I started cautiously, dreading the answer that I already expected.

"Funny thing, this. I was skiing with my partner and before you know it, I skied into a nearby treeline and a yeti just - poof, runs out and bites straight through my ribcage."

"He crushed your ribcage? And you survived?" I asked. He opened his mouth but said no words, only looking at me expectantly.

I sighed very loudly and put my hand over my face. "Go on," I said.

"See, my remarkable regenerative abilities..."

"Right, settle down you buggers," the man yelled as he walked into the busy classroom. "My name is John Constantine and because someone cheats at cards," he groaned and frowned in the general direction of the principal's office, "I'm here to teach you how to defend against dark magic today."

The class exchanged slightly confused looks; the man wore a beige trenchcoat, a loose tie, dirtied trousers... he looked less like a teacher and more like a used car salesman at a bar.

"Sir," one of the boys near the front carefully said, "are- are you our teacher? I thought that teachers all wear black robes."

Constantine glared at the kid briefly, but then his face shifted into a smirk.

"Right you are, lad. Seem to have forgotten mine at the stables. Do us a favour, and, go fetch it for us, ey?" he said.

"But- sir, that's the other side of the school," the boy protested. "It's a 20-minute run!"

"Then you best get going, right?" Constantine chuckled. The kid sighed and defeatedly left the classroom.

"Roight!" Constantine yelled and clasped his hands. "What's the last thing you lot learned here?"

"Page 54, sir," a young woman near him said and offered him her textbook. He took it and started turning its pages.

"Ineffective... outdated... last one I saw someone try this one they lost two fingers!" he said and grinned at the class. They did not share his exuberance. He threw the book back to the girl.

"Bleedin' hell. No wonder this school loses a student almost every year," he murmured to himself. "'Aight, listen up you lot. I ain't gonna teach you how to defend against dark magic. I'm gonna teach you how to royally fuck up whoever's trying to hex you, sound good?"

The class responded in a mixed manner - some students lit up excitedly, some grew worried. Constantine reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a long puff.

"Good," Constantine said contently. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order - I heard it's a 'good teaching technique'. How many of you have summoned a demon before?"

I was thinking gnomes, honestly. They're stereotypically irresponsible. Lots of stuff blowing up.