The Day The Clown Lived
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Gyaros, 1200-1000 BCE. A cold evening on a battlefield soaked in viscera and Greek fire. Gigantic metal statues walk toward a temple of flesh.

In the deepest subterranean reaches of the temple, Sarkic thaumaturges prepare a vein-covered pod of combat-grade vermin. The creatures within the pod tear at each other's throats. "Under the right conditions," Karcist Nal had promised years ago, "this pod could turn an entire continent to ash and maggot-fodder."

The pod is given to one of many Orin thralls - Iose the Pike-Bearer. "Take this to be deployed on the surface," commands Võlutaar Dazh. "Be careful. It's very fragile."

"I obey," says Iose, taking the pod in his hands.

Iose trips.


March 15th, 44 BCE. Gaius Julius Caesar, dictator of Rome, finds himself increasingly paranoid of the Senate. He fears a plot on his life, and decides to cancel his scheduled appearance.

Perhaps they know of the arcane text he had secured from the Daevite ruins. He couldn't die now, just days before the ascension ritual had been completed - before Caesar's glory could outshine Jupiter himself.

Reclining in his private garden, the dictator spots his least favorite slave, Josephus, cleaning the fountain and the surrounding stonework. Yosef catches sight of a spider and bolts away from his work. He slips on the wet pavement. The back of his head lands on the fountain with a sickening crunching noise. The fountain's water turns reddish-brown. A handful of flies, as if on cue, begin to surround the fountain.

Caesar cringes. Perhaps I will go to the Senate today, he says to himself, if only to get away from this disgusting scene.


May 3rd, 1937. Adolf Hitler orders a massive weapon to be deployed to America using the cover of a passenger airship. The Marshall, Carter, and Dark representative had boasted of its destructive potential for hours on end to the strapping young führer, but they had him at "millions within the first five minutes of activation."

May 6th, 1937. As the airship is lowered into New Jersey, a technician named Josef begins to feel cold. Using his uneaten rations and a blowtorch, he builds a makeshift campfire next to a large supply of hydrogen.


November 5th, 1980. The Svyatogor, a Golf-class ballistic submarine under the Indian Ocean, receives the command from Moscow. The man in the Kremlin emphasizes that this isn't a drill. The captain draws a long sigh as he unpockets his launch key. I suppose it was only a matter of time, he says to himself.

At the same time: Iosif, Petty Officer Second Class, realizes he left his aspirin in Novgorod. "I'll be back in just a second," he says, as he opens a heavy doorway on the upper deck.

The Svyatogor remains on the sea floor to this day.


March 15th, 2006. The Village Pointe Mall in Omaha welcomes President George W. Bush for the debut of a new Iraq War memorial.

Mitch Stevens, 53, "Aryan-American," pats the worn copy of The Turner Diaries in his pocket as he watches the crowd from the parking lot. To him, Bush had done a lot of work to advance white supremacy. But he hadn't done enough.

His baggy jeans jacket, the one from before his time in San Quentin, hides a vest of homemade explosives and rusty nails. As the President comes to the stage, Mitch breaks into a run—

And trips.

As he pries his face from the asphalt, Mitch can hear a drunken, high-pitched laugh from a man behind him. "Dude, check your shoelaces," says the man, his voice slurred from alcohol.

Mitch flies into a blind rage as he draws the bowie knife from his boot. At the end of the day, Mitch only kills one person - some homeless jagoff named Joe Grunderson-Pike - before he's arrested.


April 23rd, 2018. A Global Occult Coalition barge in the Southern Atlantic ocean carries out its shipment of esoteric military chemicals - particularly Substance-Tango-491, called "Ambien From Hell" by its nihilistic inventor - to Argentina without incident.

Corporal Joseph "Big Joe" Pike is nowhere near the Substance-Charlie-499 tank to light a cigarette.

The Substance-Charlie-499 tank doesn't go up in flames.

The Substance-Tango-491 tank doesn't leak into the ocean.

The Leviathan does not ingest enough Substance-Tango-491 to keep it sleeping a while longer.

Joe, "SCP-2416-21," is in Foundation Site-59, under a medically-induced coma.


May 5th, 2049. The Leviathan awakens.

When the tidal wave hits Site-59, the failsafe dies in his sleep.

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