| PROPOSAL |
|---|
| Decommission SCP-682, at the anomaly's request. |
| STATUS |
| APPROVED! |
The Foundation of Denver, Colorado. Formerly Site-19.
Charles stood at the edge of the swirling acid bath, the perpetually-twirling turbines that kept the acid flowing coming to a soft and steady stop. For 65 years, Charles Ogden Gears had managed to prevent himself from feeling any true sort of emotion. A light smile at a lover's gesture, a nod of congratulations to a promoted coworker, but nothing enough to prevent his work. Yet as he stood above this tidal wave of acid, watching the still-breathing carcass of that unusual lizard that plagued him and his coworkers with death, pain, and property damage, he felt the slightest twinge in his heart.
He wasn't alone in this endeavor. In fact, to the surprise of nobody, everyone from the crowded Site-19 — or as it had begun to be called after The Farewell, simply "Denver", after being the only Foundation facility in the city — had gathered around the five-by-five-by-five-meter tub they'd all been so accustomed to. The feeling was unusual. Everyone from across all of the Foundation was still reeling from the effects of SCP-8300, their friends, families, projects and jobs having died on the vine in an instant. On the opposite hand, the Lizard was not something anyone here would have considered friend, family, or even a worthy project. More of a headache meant for the younger employees to stifle their careers upon to prevent upwards momentum.
Everyone hated the Lizard. Even the Lizard, at the best of times, romping through the halls of their Denver-based bunker, seemed like it hated the Lizard. Under no circumstances could anyone, other than perhaps the AI, consider it worth a smile.
And yet, Charles was not surprised when the facility gathered around this acid bath, their looks of sorrow and nostalgic regret rather than a deep satisfaction. Everyone other than Charles, of course, the look of eternal stoicism still getting him a gawking look or two. People from other facilities, even, had come to witness this momentous occasion. Mann, staring blankly at the sterile white walls of the chamber. King, free from his personal anomaly at last, still barely smiling as he stood and watched. The humanoid Kain Pathos Crow, now nothing more than a man, still adjusting himself to standing and staring on two legs. Charles could see Lament and Sophia, two disciples long-past the confines of Site-19, holding hands as they watched the acid flush into the drainage system. Diluted, of course. Charles had clarified every safety measure beforehand to not accidentally kill half of the city surrounding them.
When the final drop of acid exited the bath, a gateway was opened by one of the paraveterinarians from Site-19, and she begun to descend the watered-down stairs leading to the Lizard. Charles followed, his clipboard gripped tightly in one hand, a pen in the other. This was going to be the final checkmark.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the Lizard finally lurched its head up for the first time in days. The shredded skin and scales of the dilapidated head covered the creature's eyes, yet Charles could almost certainly ascertain the expression on its face. As he and the vet closed their distance, the Lizard snarled. They stopped in their tracks, and the entire containment chamber went silent. After a moment of hesitation, the terror of a violent mistake seeping into everyone but Charles, the lizard let out a dry laugh.
"I jest."
The vet sighed, and Charles let out a light exhale; his closest approximation. When they reached the Lizard, the bones still visible from the years of acidic degradation, it simply slumped its head on the ground. Charles stood over it, preparing the final list of questions and statements, as the vet reached into her bag, pulling out a syringe. The Lizard snorted through the barely open nose, the melting guck on its face moving up enough to reveal the cold, yellow eyes underneath.
"You must feel satisfied, Charlie."
The vet turned around, looking to Charles for a response. He looked away from his clipboard to meet the Lizard in eye contact, his expression unphased.
"No. You would know that is not the case."
The Lizard laughed again. "After all these years, Charlie, I suppose you're right."
"Charles is fine."
"Fine."
"Can we begin?"
The Lizard, with a heave of the melting corpse it inhabited, slowly rolled over onto its backside, the acidic residue flinging to the walls of the tub. "Indeed", it groaned out. Charles flipped to the first page of the Termination Report again.
"SCP-682, you requested a termination via lethal injection, as you feel as though you are capable of being terminated due to recent events. Is this still the case?"
"And because I am dying, but yes."
Charles nodded. "Understood. Next question-"
The Lizard sighed once more. "Charles, please, these redundancies feel especially redundant now. So many decades of your finest idiots attempting to kill me, and I'm finally at death's door, yet you want to carry out the process?"
Not looking up from his clipboard, he responds. "Formalities are the necessity of organization. I apologize, but it is better to do this right than not do it at all."
The Lizard rolled its eyes. "Fine. So it shall be."
"Next question. You understand that you, SCP-682, are one of the final remaining anomalies within the observable universe, after the events of SCP-8300?"
"If that's what you're calling it, yes. The Farewell took only my ability to stay rotting in your chambers forever, not leaving enough to carry me through."
Charles checked off two boxes. "Understood. Next question. Do you truly believe you are incapable of continuing life, in your current form?"
The Lizard hesitated for a moment, the normal gnarled smile turning to a somewhat-soft look of disdain.
"Life, I've not possessed for many years. Existence, however, yes, is done. For me, as it was all the others."
"I see. Only two more questions, then."
"Good."
"Please summarize your time in employment of the SCP Foundation."
The Lizard raised an eyebrow-equivalent brow, the subtle disdain turning to confusion. "Employment?"
"This form is for employees of the Foundation who have requested Medical Assistance in Death. You were considered an approximate to this."
The Lizard paused for a moment, then burst into laughter. The watching crowd, only in stunned silence at the affair, could feel their hearts racing. This was approaching the end. When the Lizard stopped, it smiled, and limply raised its head to Charles.
"My time with you all has been a nightmare. The embodiment of humanity, a bastion of your foolishness and attempt to control every chaotic aspect of the universe. I have endured the pain of a thousand of your strongest men, fought through more than the wars of a thousand of your soldiers, and been burnt by the acids of this treacherous bath more than those of Venus have burned the surface of that planet."
Turning around, the Lizard began to address the entirety of the room. "In all of these years, I have simply collected faces I wished to torment once I could escape. For some of the less fortunate — or less quick — I achieved this, but most time was spent in eternal longing for your suffering. Truly, the hatred I have felt while confined, it is incomparable."
With a sharp turn of the head, the Lizard stared down a front-row observer: Dr. Clef. He gulped.
"Take Clef, oh you sweet monstrous Clef, for example. This 'bastard' — as he so pompously refers to himself — has filled my backside with more shotgun blasts than were received in all of your petulant conflicts. He has referred to me as words even I dare not utter, and has proven only the cruelty of whatever Devil you believe him to be. For him, and all the other fools who attempted to end a 'life' they believed they controlled, I hold only contempt."
The Lizard turned back to Charles.
"Though, you were yourself not terrible, Charles. An unemotive man, something disparaged from humanity itself, I could align with you. Your amount of hatred now is lesser. I think that is something in common, perhaps."
There was a moment of silence. Clef attempted to stifle a sob, through the faux-triumphant grin of victory. He failed. The Lizard let out a long sigh, and laid its head upon the floor again.
"That is to say, I hated you. But, alas, in a case like this, I suppose I must say I am grateful to end it among your… care. It is not a deserved victory for you, yet, in my absence of a heart, I doubt you will consider this much of a victory. So in the end, well, hah. I won."
Charles hesitated, waiting for another snarky word of cruelty. After a moment, there was nothing.
"Have you completed your answer to the question?"
The Lizard sighed. "Yes. Proceed, please, if you will. I tire of the wait."
"Indeed. One final question, then, and the vet here will begin."
"As it is," replied the Lizard, the acceptance clear in its voice, "ask away". With a heavy heart, something Charles had not felt in a long, long, time, he uttered words he never would have expected to hear for this abomination.
"How do you feel, in this current moment?"
The Lizard sighed in tandem with the injection entering its body, looking up at Charles for a final melancholic moment.
"You already know the answer to that one."
EXHIBITION #: 00682
EXHIBITION TITLE: "THE INTERMINABLE REPTILE"
LOCATION: The Foundation of Denver, Colorado.
EXB-00682
DESCRIPTION: EXB-00682 is a disproportionally-sized reptilian skull, formerly belonging to an anomalous entity often nicknamed the "Hard-to-Destroy Reptile". The reptile, though incredibly hostile towards the SCP Foundation, other anomaly-related organizations, and humanity in general, was a central part of the SCP Foundation's evolution from purely a research organization, to that of containment.
Over the course of the anomaly's 78 years within containment, the SCP Foundation attempted to neutralize EXB-00682 14,509 times. Only 3 would succeed, including the final (self-requested) termination upon the advent of SCP-8300. This is an unfortunate display of the other symptom of the anomaly's containment; a Foundation which attempted to neutralize and act violently, with the expenditure on EXB-00682 neutralization attempts entering the millions of culminative dollars.
It is to be acknowledged that, despite the destructive tendencies of EXB-00682, it was still a live entity, contained by extreme violence and frequent physical harassment by members of the SCP Foundation. EXB-00682 stands not only as a memorial to a core part of the organization as a whole, but as a reminder of the SCP Foundation's mistakes.
The skull of the entity was the only recoverable remains after the final termination attempt, by the anomaly's request.
There is nothing left to say.
After all these years, I can only find myself feeling disgusted.
Goodbye, old friend.
Charles Gears,
Director Exhibition and Artefact Curation at Denver, Colorado,
Former Director of General Research at Site-19.
