A Meeting With Mistopheles (Author Page)
rating: +16+x

It's a quiet evening on Site-57.

You step out in the cold air, a hot fish and chips from the nearby store to warm you tonight. You nod to the guards as you pass them, pulling your jacket closer over your shoulders.

You're here to meet a contact - a somewhat capricious one, if you believe the stories, but he's always here on Sundays. The normal guy who meets him is sick, so you've been selected to take his place. You're… a little uncertain about the protocol, though. This is a new one.

You find the spot - a small, shadowed part of the complex - and lean against the wall, your leg in the position you'd been thoroughly instructed on. You take one of the chips and eat it - it's not part of the protocol, but it is part of the human reaction to a cold night. You pull off a piece of the battered fish, check it over, and throw it into the darkness.

It makes a small, wet sound as it lands, a wave of silence rushing in to fill the empty space. This silence feels… tenser, somehow. More… alert, and focused.

You hear something jump from the roof above you. A flash of white leaps into the darkness, making a beeline for the fish you left. You're uncertain of the protocol for this situation, but you hope the contact saw it in time, regardless.


Two blue eyes stare out at you from the shadows. It's a white cat, looking you over. The silence is overbearing, as neither of you move. You realise you're holding your breath, so you release it. To break the tension, you jokingly ask the cat if it's the contact you're here to meet.

"Hah, lucky guess, or just perceptive?"

The cat puts on a toothy grin.

"The names Mistopheles. Welcome to the whisper network - or, should I say, the whisker network."

You groan internally. It's gonna be a long night.

"So! Let's get the show on the road. I tell you what I've heard, whether that's things around town, or leaks from your place. Then, you guys go and plug those leaks. You savvy? Let's get started."

"Let's start with the basics - I've heard rumours of a few of your SCPs through the whisker network. You curious?"

SCP-DECI: The Worst Calculator Ever

"People at the University were discussing a High School where every student - every single student - failed a maths test. If I recall correctly, the original culprit was a calculator, right? You musta missed a teacher or something."

By now, you've eaten through most of the chips, and you've split the fish between you two. You've written down everything he's mentioned to you. You ask if he's forgetting anything.

He shakes his head, turning away from you. He looks over his shoulder to give you one last smile.

"This was fun. I like you… what was your name, again?"

You tell him.

"Really? …Huh. Feel like I heard that somewhere in the city. I'd watch my back if I were you, particularly heading down Amity Street. Anyways, I'll see you around."

He scampers off, into the darkness. The quiet rolls back - a more relaxed quiet than the tense silence. You gather your notebook and the rubbish, and head back inside.

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