Got your Whiskers in a Zwist
1996
???
Somewhere beneath Chicago, Illinois, USA
The air is rancid down there.
It reeks of rotten tomato sauce, putrid flesh, dirty cat hair and moldy paper. There is no light, but if there was, one could see mounds of spoiled food and piles upon piles of newspapers and comic books.
There's something else too, a tall and grotesque figure shuffling around. It seems mindless and without aim, but only for a moment.
Pain seizes the creature, a pain that comes from the inside. It clutches its head, thrashes on the floor and growls. The growl turns into a screech, then a cough. A dry, hacking cough.
Finally, it expels something from its throat, spitting it on the floor where it lands with a wet thud. The creature picks it up with a fat orange paw to examine it. It's a newspaper, bearing bold and hateful letters.
"Garfield before Garfield: was Jim Davis just a copycat?"
The creature's slit eyes run over the rest of the front page.
"If I started describing an orange, lazy cat who hates Mondays, chances are that few in the audience would think of Polk The Lazy Cat.
And yet, Wil Deaver's cartoon cat was quite popular decades before Jim Davis put Garfield to the page."
The resemblance is uncanny!
With a loud and warbled roar, the creature's pain turns to rage.
1996
13 February.
Boecker's Workshop of Miraculous Paints: Winnipeg Street, Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada
This was almost a usual Zwist bust for Director Vivian Scout.
From behind the wheel of his car across the street, he could see the six agents from Alpha-43 scouting the area slowly making their way towards the workshop as inconspicuously as possible. With Mardi Gras drawing crowds downtown, such discretion was less necessary but still, it was protocol. He wondered how far they would make it past the door.
The only thing different from usual was the recent hire, Dr. Harry Blank, who was sitting behind him staring at the brightly-colored building.
"I'm not really sure what I'm doing here, sir. I thought this was going to be mostly a desk job." Harry asked.
"And it will be. I do not expect you to bring a gun to Thilo's head and walk him to a containment cell." He paused. "In fact, I do not expect any of our agents to accomplish this today."
"Then no offense sir, but why do all this?"
Scout turned to face him. "You will come to understand in time. This operation has its purpose and you, you are here to observe. I will retire soon, and Thilo's case will go to you. I thought it would do you good to see in person how he works."
Harry nodded sagely and returned to his observation, this time paying closer attention to the details.
"So he sells paints and coatings now. The "C" trigger is in the advertisements and "D" is in the text on the buckets themselves, right? Or can Zwist work his magic with the shade of the paints?"
"Thilo always spreads his cures through text. Although," Scout reflected "given his common dabblings in other art fields, I would not put it past him to be able to do extraordinary things with paint."
"But nothing like repelling lightning and all those other tall claims he puts in the ads."
"Most likely not."
One of the agents had begun lifting up the large billboard that stood a few paces away from the workshop.
"Look, this is what delayed this operation until today. Before we could come up with a way to counteract its effect, this sign was keeping our agents from entering the workshop. They would always find themselves hopping the fence into the neighbor's garden instead. You can expect the place to be littered with other traps, even more subtle than this one."
"Like what he's done with the door? It looks busted up from here, but that's probably just a trick then."
"Yes, like—" Scout stopped and turned towards the house. Unfortunately, his old eyes could not see what the younger doctor was seeing. "What does the door look like?"
"Slightly ajar, the handle is broken and… I think there's a dent around it too. Like someone gave it a strong hit, maybe with a battering ram. But the way you've been talking about Zwist, I don't think he'd be the type to let the normal police raid his place. I guess the alternative is OSAT then."
Scout did not for a moment consider this alternative. Thilo was too clever and the hatted buffoons from OSAT too incompetent to have managed to enter his place before the Director's agents did.
A worrying thought came to his mind. The O5 knew he would retire soon, and they had at times expressed their displeasure at how lax he had been in his pursuit of Thilo. They were right to be, of course, even if they did not know just how much. But perhaps they had managed to slip past him and sent someone else after the cryptomancer. Someone who would obey.
"Wait, there's something else too." Harry's shout interrupted his worries. "Is that blood? I can't tell from here."
In a moment, Scout was out of the vehicle. He ignored the sounds of his legs protesting as he entered a brisk pace, only stopping once he was close enough to the wall. There was something red, something wet dripping around the door's hinges. But much to his relief — and surprise — it was not blood.
One of the agents (they had all come to gather around their superior) voiced the question that was on everyone's minds.
"Is that lasagna?"
Seeing the inside of the workshop somewhat alleviated Scout's fears. There was no way that this was the work of professional Foundation operatives.
The inside was an ugly mess, plain and simple.
Signs of a struggle were all over the place. The counter had been splintered and crushed by a heavy impact. All the shelves had been knocked over, the buckets they stored had spilled their contents across the floor and walls, which worked in the agents' favor. Besides covering up all of Thilo's memetic traps, it also made it incredibly easy to follow where the struggle's participants had gone.
The tracks were more puddles and trails than clear footprints, but they clearly headed for the small hallway in the back that connected the workshop to the residential rooms above.
The team lead analyzed the scene. "Looks like PoI-382 tried to go upstairs. But then," she pointed to the ripped wallpaper at the base of the stairs and the shattered cane further ahead in the hallway, "the intruder caught up to him and attacked. PoI-382 had to dodge away from the stairs, then blocked a second attack with his cane which didn't resist the blow."
She took a few more steps and knelt near some upturned and smeared furniture. "I'm guessing that knocked PoI-382 down, after which he scrambled a bit and bumped into this."
Another agent bagged the cane away for evidence while she rummaged through the furniture. "One of the drawers is open, there's a bunch of blank paper sheets in there, and handprints. PoI-382 must have grabbed something in there."
The tracks turned the corner, toward the back door. It had been torn off its hinges and now laid next to a large, painted dent in the wall.
Having noticed something tucked underneath the door, the team lead bent to pick it up. "Is that one of the blank sheets from the drawer? Why would the PoI grab this?"
Scout figured out why, but he did not have the time to warn her before she flipped the paper over. In an instant, her body seized up and she slumped against the wall.
"Nobody look!" On the Director's order, all the agents turned their gaze away. "One of you needs to close their eyes and get that piece of paper, fold it then—"
SPLASH.
To Scout's right stood Harry, empty paint bucket in hand. "I uh, grabbed this from the other room. I thought we might need it if there were still traps around. Should I not have done that?"
"It wasn't necessary, but it was good thinking."
One of the agents chided him: "Except now we can't analyze the hazard! What happens if we can't make a counter to wake her up?"
"I don't expect it to come to that." Scout reassured the team. "This must have been something that Thilo scribbled in a hurry, a simple incapacitating agent, nothing we haven't seen from him before. The effects should fade by the end of the day."
"It doesn't seem like it worked that well on Zwist's attacker though."
"Indeed it didn't. That's concerning." Scout paused to reflect a moment. "We'll have to split up. Two of you stay here: one to watch over her, the other to comb over the scene for evidence and contact the Site. Have them look if this matches anything we know about. Everyone else keeps going after Thilo and whoever attacked him."
After stepping outside, Scout saw fit to correct his statement. In the dirt, the tracks became more distinct.
One set of footprints with one dragging after the other; the telltale signs of someone limping away.
And right behind it, very different tracks that almost looked like a small ditch surrounded by tears in the ground. It took Scout a moment to make sense of them, but these were the tracks of something heavy dragging itself along with clawed limbs.
"It appears we're not looking for whoever attacked Thilo, but whatever."
"Well crap." Harry swore. "This is gonna be hard to cover up."
He pointed towards where the tracks stretched away. "I'm pretty sure that way is downtown. And there was a specific reason you chose to do this operation today."
13 February, some time later.
Victoria Avenue, Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada
By the time the team got to the parade, the paint had already faded and the dirt given way to concrete. Their only lead was an eyewitness who had described to them "an injured old guy going towards the party." Said eyewitness had theorized these injuries to be the cause of a traffic accident which they believed to be common on this date. As a matter of fact, they had heard another car crash just a few moments ago.
Still, despite the fact that they were some time behind Thilo and his attacker, the parade was undisturbed when they arrived. Festivities were in full swing, crowds and floats were going down the street to the sound of music.
The team had flinched once when they had heard screams coming from the left, which soon turned out to have come from the people gathered around a decorated fire engine whose facetious crew, hoses in hand, started to play a prank on those drawn in by the flashing lights.
"Maybe the large crowd scared that thing away," Harry ventured a guess.
"Or maybe it hasn't been noticed yet," Scout retorted. "It's unfortunate, but we will have to split up to cover the area. Stay on the lookout for anything unusual, but avoid drawing too much suspicion to yourselves."
In truth, he already had an idea of where Thilo was. Just before Blank spoke, he had caught a glimpse of a bearded, hunched figure cutting through the crowd to make for a sidewalk bench. Scout only had to send the rest of the team away to make it safe for them to meet.
But was he ready for this meeting? The thought hit him midway through a group of tourists who voiced their annoyance at him in some language he didn't hear. He was too busy thinking.
Thilo and Scout were good friends, this much was sure, but they had never met. What had been a challenge at first slowly solidified into a simple fact of their relationship as it grew through the decades. They had exchanged letters, phone calls, and there had been that time in Cabbagetown, but never had the two men seen each other face-to-face.
For it to happen after all this time, and in such circumstances… Scout had given the matter ample thought over the years, but he didn't know what to think of it now.
He would have needed more time to dwell on it, time which was cut short as the decision was taken away from him. During his ruminations, a friend had approached the hunched figure Scout had spotted and helped him walk away, revealing him to simply a costumed — and quite drunk — young man.
Scout drew out a long breath of relief, which turned into a gasp when he felt a hand land on his shoulder.
"I'm right here Vivian" spoke an unmistakable, if somewhat muffled voice.
Slowly, anxiously, the Director turned to stare at…
Bugs Bunny.
Or rather, a Bugs Bunny costume. It had clearly been designed for someone taller than the person currently inside, who was trying to push away the ear covering his left eye.
"You'll have to excuse the lack of decorum. I borrowed this from a very understanding young lady after I told her I had a pursuer to lose and an old friend to avoid disappointing."
Scout blinked once. Twice. Then steadied his expressions. If Thilo was bringing his usual wit to this conversation, there was no reason he should not do the same.
"Running away and disguising yourself Thilo? How out of style for you. If I wasn't worried about whatever pushed you this far being a danger to others as well, I'd almost be jealous."
"And you are right to be. My standards might not be the same as your Council's, but I wouldn't hesitate to call this thing a… how did you put it? Ah yes, an unusual threat to public health. It was certainly one to mine. But now that you and your witch hunters are here, I suppose you will have to deal with it while I once again slip between your fingers."
"As long as we come back with something, I can spin it as a win in the report. Now tell me, what did this to you?"
"If you can believe it Vivian, it was—"
At this moment, Scout's radio buzzed in. He held a hand up, biding his friend to stay silent, then picked the call up. It came from Harry.
"Hey Director, I know this isn't what we were looking for, but I think I found something else we should take care of."
"A new anomaly?"
"No, not really a new one. Hang on, I just looked the number up before calling you… yeah, 6121. The funny mascots, you know. I guess they can also show up to these events."
"And you're sure this is one?" SCP-6121 was one of the more recent cases Site-43 had to deal with, and one of its least important ones. Scout usually didn't pay it much mind.
"Oh yeah, sure. It's pretty-off model for what it's supposed to be and totally unintelligible. I got it to follow me, we're coming up to you now so you can see for yourself."
And indeed, Scout spotted the younger doctor further up the street. Wobbling a few steps behind Harry followed a grotesque Garfield costume. It didn't seem very intelligent, which was in line with what he had heard about all the previous instances.
Harry's arrival changed things, Thilo had to hide. Thilo agreed with this, but not for the same reasons.
"Vivian, that's the one. The thing that attacked me."
Scout had not yet closed his radio, and Harry heard that. "'Vivian'? Is Zwist with you, sir?"
And because Harry was next to the Garfield costume, it heard that as well. It started sniffing the air around itself.
A low grumbling came from the radio, followed by Harry's worried voice. "Uh sir? I think it's angry at something. These things are practically harmless, but we don't want it to cause a scene."
"Harry," Scout spoke calmly into the radio, "listen very carefully but do not panic. Step away from the anomaly and go in the opposite direction from where I am. I will call in the rest of Alpha-43 and then we can—"
The creature abruptly grabbed Harry by the shoulder and threw him into the air.
"Holy shit!" Harry's voice grew distant before he crashed into a nearby parade float.
The creature roared. Its beady plastic eyes locked with the flat fabric eyes of Thilo's costume. By that point, most of the people around it had fallen into a panic and were running away. Those unlucky enough to still be in the path between it and the two old men were brutally pushed aside when it got down on all fours and charged.
"I already know my own tricks don't work well on that thing. You wouldn't happen to be carrying some of your fancy secret Foundation tech that could stop it, would you?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Then I suggest we run."
Scout was in agreement and this time, his legs didn't complain.
13 February, one chase later.
Truesdale Drive, Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada
Bugs Bunny and an official from the world's biggest conspiracy walked into a bar. Luckily for them it was closed, so nobody was there to see them collapse on the ground.
They didn't talk at first, so busy were they wheezing and catching their breaths.
Thilo broke the silence first. "It's that desk job of yours Vivian, you're missing up on too much exercise."
Scout smiled. "Then at least go back to hiding outside Canada, Thilo. You're my main reason to move around these days."
"If I have to hide from mascot monsters as well as your men now, I might just do that."
"About that. Do you know why that thing is after you? You may have noticed that we've been watching your place for days, but there never were any signs of it."
Thilo shrugged as best he could in his costume. "Frankly, I am as baffled as you are. I was simply behind the counter, preparing some novelty traps for your green agents—"
"You were only preparing now? You're getting sloppy, Thilo."
"Or maybe I was trying to even your chances while you're still trying. As I said, I wasn't doing anything particularly unusual, when this, this thing busts my door open and barges into the workshop spitting and hissing. I tried to keep my calm at first, but it has been a long time since I came across anything like it. It isn't rational Vivian, I don't know if it even thinks."
"It might not, but I've come to learn that even anomalies that appear to be without reason have some form of logic to them. It doesn't need to have been today, did you do anything recently that could possible relate to this?"
"Recently? Not that I can think of, but maybe I need to rummage through my thinking fossil some more."
Scout left Thilo to his ruminations and tried to think of something himself. Before he could reach a conclusion however, a new call came in from his radio. He took it.
"It's me again sir. I assume you found some place to hide?"
"Harry!" Scout was glad to hear from the doctor he had last seen crashing into the scenery. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine. My fall was broken by all those fake feathers and —ouch— plastic they put on the float. I don't think I'll be able to move just yet though. Which doesn't mean I've been sitting on my ass doing nothing, I called the Site with a description of the thing that threw me here and they got a match for an entry in the database."
This was great news. A threat identified was one much more easily handled.
"So listen: we're pretty sure that's SCP-3166. Horrific Garfield thing that goes after people who badmouth the comic or hurt its image. A&R ran a search and there was a recent news article that claimed that Davis might have stolen the concept from… Wil Deaver."
Scout saw his friend sit up and clasp his costumed head in his costumed hands.
"This…" Thilo's voice carried a level of weariness that was rarely heard, even from a man with centuries of experience with the sentiment. "This is about Polk? Polk The Lazy Cat?"
"Oh shit, Zwist is still here? I didn't hear anything, Blank out."
"Thilo, listen." Scout began. "It's good that we know this, now we can plan and deal with this thing."
"I've made mistakes Vivian, you know this. For the most part of my life, I've been running after them. Some, a rare few, have been running after me. But I never, not in my worst nightmares or weirdest daydreams, imagined that "Polk The Lazy Cat" would be one of them."
The cryptomancer continued. "I thought I moved on, left it behind, never to think of it again but now it's—"
There was scratching at the door.
"Now it's here."
They stared at the door, waiting with anxious breaths.
They missed the fat orange paw latching onto the windowsill on the left wall. They weren't looking when the rest of the body hoisted itself up. They did not see its back stretch and bend backwards like a rubber band being pulled.
When it sprung through the window, crashing face first through the glass and wooden frame, they were taken by surprise.
It landed on the floor, rolling through the shards and debris then, without pause, burst into a mad four-legged dash.
Thilo, who was already sat up, stood and turned to run. Too slow.
Scout tried to grab one of the creature's limbs and trip it, or at least slow it down somewhat. By the second step he could barely hold on, by the fourth he slid and slammed into a pillar.
He saw the thing pounce on Thilo's back and pin him to the ground. He saw it lift him up by the neck. Thilo struggled to speak.
"What— what is it you want? An apology, an admission of -hck- guilt? I'll give you one!"
The creature screeched, spraying lasagna over the costume's chest. But it did not attack.
"I've lived as a quack doctor, a self-proclaimed psychic and a snake oil salesman, and never did I feel more like a fraud than when I was writing "Polk The Lazy Cat". It is the single most artless thing I've ever created; and creating it took me less thought and effort than putting clothes on in the morning."
The hair around the creature's mouth ripped and split as it broke into a wide, pointy smile.
"I hated it then, I hate it now and if you want to punish me for it, know that no punishment is worse than making me remember that I was responsible for it!"
Having finished his rant, Thilo drew in a new breath through his clenched throat. "There. Is that good enough for you?"
The thing didn't respond.
Instead, it shifted its hold on Thilo and shoved him whole down its maw.
Ignoring the muffled shouts coming from its distended belly, it waddled past a baffled and speechless Scout to go hop over the broken window.
Its whole body rippled when it landed, and its cheeks ballooned. It leaned over and puked Thilo out, along with a stream of lasagna.
"What is this made of?" the cryptomancer cried out. "It's seeping through the seams and pores!"
The creature huffed and growled, stomping its foot on the ground. Some passersby were already gathering on the opposite sidewalk, staring at the scene.
It pivoted back to the bar's window, to the hole it had turned into, and started pulling off loose bricks. Once it had gathered a good pawful of those, it swung wildly to throw them at Thilo, who was still quivering on the ground. And then it did it again. Pull, rip, throw, repeat.
Thilo curled up, trying to shield his head from the bricks. "I was wrong!" he shouted. "This, this is worse!"
This proved to be a mistake, as the creature only took it as further encouragement. It opened its maw wide to gobble up a large pile of bricks and shifted its body to push them into its left arm. They hung there, a heavy mass distorting its shape until it started swinging. Swinging and spinning its arm into a murderous wheel ready to deliver a cruel blow to the quivering cryptomancer.
Scout would not let it happen. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you." he called out from behind the window. Seeing it stop in its tracks, he continued. "You wouldn't want to hurt the Garfield brand, after all."
It slowly turned its head, but not the rest of its body, to snarl at Scout. He remained unfazed. "Just take a moment to consider what you are doing. You're wearing the face of Garfield and what do you do with it? Brutally assault Bugs Bunny, one of the most famous and beloved cartoon icons. In broad daylight and in front of witnesses, no less."
With a shaky finger, he pointed to the crowd that had been drawn in. The creature's gaze followed it. Someone snapped a picture with their camera. A father was trying to soothe his crying child and more parents were covering their children's eyes. One little girl looked up at the Garfield balloon she was holding, then at the creature, then back at the balloon. She let it float away.
The creature shook. It hissed, screeched, clawed at itself. Finally, it pointed an accusatory claw at Scout and screamed. This is what the Director heard:
"HrrmmghngMONDAYS!"
Then it exploded.
Its body burst into tufts of hair while lasagna was projected into the air, raining upon Thilo and the crowd. Along with a few bricks, too.
Fleeing the pasta precipitations, the crowd quickly dispersed. Scout slowly limped up to Thilo and helped his friend up.
"You see? I told you it would have some form of logic to follow."
"Hmhm." Thilo audibly winced as he arched his back. "I noticed you didn't bother telling our furry friend that all of these people could never impact the brand since they will have their memories erased by the end of the day."
"It didn't feel relevant enough to mention." He sighed. "But now that you mention it, it's true that we will have quite a lot of cover up to do."
"You and your secrecy. Although, for once, I almost wish you could erase my memory of this day. Unfortunately I can't allow it, so I had better slip away before your men get here."
Thilo picked up a broken piece of wood from the window, leaned his weight on it and slowly, very slowly, dragged himself away.
"That's it?" Scout called. "No parting witticism? No final words?"
"I don't think today is a day for witticisms, Vivian." He looked over himself. "Seeing how I am costumed, I could think of some parting words but I'd rather not spoil this day any further with cheap plagiarism. Goodbye Vivian, and stay in good health. I'd hate for this to be the last time we spoke."
Incident Date: 13/02/1996
Location: Regina, Saskachewan, Canada.
Report:
Following an unexpected altercation between SCP-3166 and PoI-382, the latter once again evaded capture. While Director Scout managed to dispatch this manifestation of SCP-3166, he reports failing to make direct visual contact with PoI-382, and decided to reallocate manpower to dealing with the aftermath of the altercation rather than pursuit. This decision allowed for a rapid deployment of cover stories and amnestics, effectively erasing any concerns as to the integrity of the Veil.
Along with his report, Director Scout submitted more paperwork pertaining to his upcoming resignation. He was quoted as saying "It's days like this that remind me that, even after all these years, I never came close to truly seeing everything."