A life without cheese is not a life worth living, and so this beast has to be killed.
Secure Cheese Procedures: SCP-9682 is not to be approached outside of cheese securement ever. Due to its imperviousness to all known forms of damage, the primary recommendation is to hide in a durable, enclosed area small enough that it cannot enter. Otherwise, avoidance is to be considered the safest course of action.
If SCP-9682 approaches Site-4, a total lockdown is to be declared and maintained until it has departed.
Description: SCP-9682 is a massive1 hostile entity which currently inhabits the Land of Harvest. It is quadrupedal, with each limb ending in several curved blades that can be extended and retracted at will. Its skin is protected by a dense, impermeable fuzz, upon which is patterned a multitude of dark spots resembling dead eyes.
SCP-9682 has not demonstrated the ability to feel fear or any fear-adjacent emotions, such as worry, caution, or suspicion. It is unknown if this is anomalous or simply a result of its extreme physical prowess. Additionally, despite being classified as an omnivore, it is believed to possess a strong preference for mouseflesh.
SCP-9682 is the last obstacle between the SCP Foundation and the Wheel Eternal, which it closely guards at all times. As such, its termination is of the highest priority the Wheel Eternal is to be considered lost.
Ches. Manchego
Ches. Grana
The interior of a small storage room, shelves lined with buttons, beads, and coins. The only illumination comes from outside the door, barely giving form to Cheesearcher2 Manchego sitting slumped against a shelf, caressing a plastic bottle cap under his gray-furred snout.
Pawsteps approach from outside. The cardboard door swings open with a woosh and bright light shines onto Manchego, reflecting off his glasses. He lifts a paw, squinting against the light.
Manchego: Hello…?
Cheesearcher Grana stands in the doorframe, her tail lashing and brown fur fluffed up twice her size.
Grana: Cheese and crackers, Manchego! I finally found you!
She bounds towards him as he scrambles to his paws. His head lifts at just the wrong time and they crash into each other, both of them bouncing back with small squeaks and lifted paws to rub their noses.
Grana: Owww…
Manchego: What was that for? Am I in trouble?
Grana: No, I—what are you doing, hiding in here?
Manchego: Not hiding, I'm just looking for buttons like this one. Look—you see how round it is? I suspect I could roll this on a nice, slippery surface and it'd go on forever and ever. No bumps, no scratches, just perfect smoothness.
Grana: Right, yeah, sure. Anyways, would you mind looking to your left for me?
Manchego: Uh, why?
She sighs, pushes his snout to his left and embraces him.
Grana: This is what I was trying to do before you squashed my nose flat.
Manchego's tail curls.
Manchego: Wh-What's all this for?
Grana: I've got fantastic news. Guess!
Manchego: I… are you getting married?
Grana: No, Man. Try again.
Manchego: Moving to a different site?
Grana: No, why would I do that?
Manchego: I don't know. Just give me a hint already.
She pulls back from the hug and stares at him.
Grana: Think about cheese. Creamy, crumbly cheese that just melts in your mouth and lingers on your tongue, leaving you craving for more…
Her eyes unfocus as Manchego looks away, pushing his glasses back up his snout.
Manchego: Ah, have they discovered a way to access the Wheel Eternal again?
Grana salivates visibly.
Manchego: Hello? Am I right?
Grana: Wha… sorry, what did you say? I was thinking about something else.
Manchego: I said, have they discovered a way around SCP-9682?
Grana: Oh! No, of course not, the project hasn't even started yet. Haven't you been following site news?
Manchego: Not very closely, no.
Grana: Figures. Well, they're actually putting the project team together right now, and guess who's going to be on it? Me!
Manchego: Oh, Grana, my condolences. I would hate to be involved in such a mess.
Grana: No, it's… it's a good thing. Wasn't I telling you how hard I've been working to get in?
Manchego: I didn't know you were serious. Why would you possibly want this sort of responsibility?
Grana: Jeez, Man, you should know the answer to that.
Manchego: You're a workaholic?
Grana: Look, this isn't just any project either. 9682's cut off our entire cheese supply. If I can help fix that, imagine what the other Cheesearchers will think!
Manchego: Does it really matter?
She pulls away from him.
Grana: Don't—ugh, would it kill you to say "congrats" for once? I've worked so hard to get here and all you've got for me is "oh that sucks" and "who cares", I mean, seriously? Do you even care, or do you just want me to scamper off so you can fiddle with your toys?
Manchego: I, uh…
He trails off and silence ensues. Grana rubs her paws together.
Grana: I'm sorry, I didn't mean to blame you. I'm… I'm just nervous. That thing's already eaten half a litter's worth of mice, and if we, if I mess up… well, I just didn't think I'd have to deal in lives so soon.
Manchego: …I understand. And, I believe you're worrying too much, because I have reason to believe that you won't mess up.
Grana: Yeah?
Manchego: You won't. And even if you do, you'll find a way to fix it. I've seen enough proof of you succeeding time and time again where you shouldn't have been able to.
Grana: …thanks, I think? That was actually nice of you to say.
Manchego: Well, you see, it's just basic pattern recognition. Once you've seen something happen enough times, it's no longer a coincidence, but rather a—
She gingerly bumps snouts with him.
Grana: Stop talking before you ruin it already.
He complies.
SCP-9682's project team was finalized three days later, with veteran carving mice3 standing by for consultation. Due to the high value of the Wheel Eternal, the project team was given highest priority for resource allocation and mousepower among all existing projects at Site-4.
The workshop is a square room cluttered with half-finished inventions. Pale light filters in through small gaps in the corkboard walls. Manchego sits on a bottle cap, gazing thoughtfully at an empty matchbox; thin threads weave through pinprick holes, latching onto four perfectly round buttons attached to both sides of the box. In his hand, he holds a bent paperclip.
Instead of a traditional door, a sticky note obscures the entrance. It rustles, and a brown-furred head pokes in.
Grana: Hey! Are you busy?
Manchego startles, poking the paperclip into his fur.
Manchego: Oh! Ouch. Hello. I was just about to take a break, what's the news?
Grana pushes past the sticky note. In her paws, she holds two small apple chunks, one of which gets tossed to him. Two crunches sound together, then Grana speaks, half-mumbling.
Grana: We finished our planning! It was a very productive discussion, and I think we can really make this work. It's only been a few days, but it sure feels like we've been talking about planning for an eternity, maybe even years. It's about time we get started.
Manchego: Good. How are we going to fight it?
Grana laughs.
Grana: Oh, yes. We'll send a thousand mice to poke it with thumbtacks until it dies of annoyance.
Manchego: That is a terrible idea, Grana. Are you feeling well?
Grana: 'Tis just a joke. You were joking about fighting it, right?
Manchego: Is that not our only option? Surely you don't mean to reason with that creature.
Grana: Why not? It might be big and frightening, but it's still an animal, just like us. We've been able to form treaties with the GOC4 and the Sparrow's Wing, so whatever this creature is, why should it be any different?
Manchego: It hasn't seemed particularly receptive to diplomacy, for one.
Grana: Honestly, we haven't really tried yet. Especially because nobody wants to be the unlucky diplomat.
Manchego: What about the D-class?
Grana: Man, we're not actually feeding it mice, no matter how much cheese they've stolen in the past. We'll just distract it and have someone sneak by, which should be simple enough.
Manchego: That does require you to find a carver ignorant enough to sign up for this mission.
Grana: Well, we do have all of the site's cheese supply at stake. I'm sure we'll find plenty of volunteers if we promise them a reward in the form of gooey, freshly-carved cheese, an endless supply to nibble and gnaw on to their heart's content…
She salivates.
Manchego: Grana?
Grana: Huh? What?
Manchego: How do you get anything done when the mention of cheese gets you like this?
Grana rubs her hands sheepishly.
Grana: Everyone does it, Man. You're the only one who doesn't.
Manchego: That explains the quality of our scientific cheesearch.
He looks down and attempts to wrangle his paperclip inside the matchbox.
Grana: Oh come on, we're all trying our best. Us little mice can only do so much, even when we work all day and all night and all the time in-between.
She turns to leave.
Grana: By the way, I'll let you know when our tests are getting carried out. You might find them interesting to watch.
Manchego: Sorry, but I'm busy. Finally making headway on four different projects.
Grana: But what if you figure something out that we're missing? You don't have to do it for the Wheel, just do it for me. Please?
Manchego: You really don't need my help for something like this.
Grana: What if I stop coming by to see you?
His paws pause their movement.
Manchego: …then, I suppose I can take a look.
Grana smiles.
Grana: Nice. I'll hold you to it.
Addendum 9682-1: Noteworthy Securement Attempts
| No. | Procedure | Result |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Attempt long-range communication5 using 17 known murine and 8 non-murine languages. A state-of-the-art telecommunications device6 was utilized for safety. | Rather than responding, SCP-9682 destroyed the telecommunications device on its end. |
| 5 | Lure away with a trail of cheese bits. | SCP-9682 ignored the cheese. |
| 8 | Lure away with a trail of apple chunks while a carver mouse gathers cheese in its absence. | SCP-9682 consumed all the apples while the designated carver was still rallying their courage. |
| 40 | Lure away with a D-class. | The D-class froze, attempted to flee, and was consumed. |
| 49 | Sneak past while SCP-9682 is asleep. | The designated carver froze shortly before SCP-9682 woke up. Upon fleeing, she was consumed. |
The workshop is noticeably more cluttered than before. Manchego paces around the matchbox, which now has a small key inserted into one end.
The sticky note flies open as Grana barrels through, knocking over a stack of zipper pulls that clatter messily to the floor. Manchego makes a small wounded sound in his throat.
Grana: Did you see?
Manchego: See what?
Grana: It… it ate them. It ate them all.
Manchego: Oh, right. I saw what happened, and that wasn't your fault; the mice simply failed to control their instincts.
Grana: No, I shouldn't have sent them out in the first place. Why would I think anyone could face that beast, when it terrifies me just seeing it as a dot in the distance?
Manchego: Perhaps you need braver mice.
Grana: You'll find a brave mouse when the sky turns green. It's just not in our nature.
She shudders.
Grana: I hear them, you know. All around the site, whispering how it should've been some other mouse on the team. Someone older, wiser in my place. They're blaming me, as if I want to get mice killed, as if anyone has any idea what to do.
Manchego: It's just gossip, Grana, nothing you need to pay attention to.
Grana buries her head between her paws.
Grana: But what if they're right? I can't imagine how those mice felt before they got eaten. Were they scared? Confused? The Admousestrator made the Foundation so mice wouldn't be prey anymore, and look where that's gotten us. Look what I've done to them.
Manchego watches her, his ears drooping. He holds a paw out.
Manchego: Grana, I… you…
He trails off and looks around the workshop before sitting back on his haunches.
Manchego: Do me a favor and remind me what those Senior Cheesearchers said about you.
She looks up at him.
Grana: How would… how would that help?
Manchego: When you first got promoted, they called you a precocious upstart, didn't they? They said it was because of your luck, because of your long whiskers, your thick fur, anything but the results of your hard work and intellect. Were they right?
Grana: I would hope not.
Manchego: Now I bet they're saying all the same things. I bet they're huddled together in their little groups, saying you're going to get everyone killed and prove them right all along because you're just a runt who's acting taller than her paws allow. Don't tell me that's all true?
Grana: Of course not, Man. That's not what I said.
Manchego: Then prove them wrong. You're sharp, and you know it.
Manchego picks up a toothpick and points it at her.
Manchego: Or are you going to give up with your tail tucked under your rear?
Grana bats the toothpick away.
Grana: Who said I was giving up? I just needed to take a break. I've got plenty of new ideas to take 9682 down.
Manchego: Now that's the Grana I know.
She averts her gaze.
Grana: It's good to know someone in this burrow still thinks I know what I'm doing.
Manchego: Do try to remember that fact, no matter how much you hang around those cheese-for-brains that tell you otherwise.
Grana: Hey, I'm technically a cheese-for-brains too.
Manchego: Yes, but your cheese is the thinking type.
Grana: I didn't know that was a type.
Manchego: That's because it's so rare amongst our coworkers.
Grana: What's your type, then?
Manchego coughs.
Manchego: By the way, I did notice something while watching y—the team's recent attempts.
Grana's whiskers droop slightly before picking back up.
Grana: Oh, did you notice any weaknesses?
Manchego: Not exactly, just an observation. SCP-9682 never attacks on sight. You must have noticed that; despite having no sense of caution, it acts curiously, and it has never attacked a mouse that chose to held still.
Grana: You mean frozen in fear, involuntarily. We considered whether 9682 could only see moving targets, but that's been definitively ruled out. What's your point?
Manchego: See, it only attacks when the mice try to flee. That's not a coincidence. Imagine, then, what if a mouse chooses to stay?
Grana: That's absurd. Fleeing is still the only option. You can't seriously be thinking about fighting it?
Manchego: That's not what I mean. I'm just pointing out a consistency in its behavior, as it seems like the project team has yet to notice it.
Grana: Uh huh. Well, anyways, we already have a plan for what to do next. After some discussions, we've decided we're going to kill it.
Manchego narrows his eyes.
Manchego: I thought you weren't going to fight it.
Grana: Well obviously that'd be suicidal. What are we going to do, bite its tail off? No, instead, we'll be using our strongest traps and poisons. As a living animal, it should have a similar biology to us, right? It seems to be a solitary creature too, so there shouldn't be any risk of retaliation from others of its kind, if such a horror were to be possible.
Manchego: That isn't entirely illogical. How will you deliver the poison?
Grana: We'll use food as bait, most likely. I'm not trying to overcomplicate the plan, since complexity always introduces more avenues of failure. The hard part is getting the poison close enough for it to notice without getting any more mice killed. I don't like it, but trial-and-error seems to be our best option.
Manchego: Certainly. If only there were an easier way to deliver the poison.
Grana stares at him.
Grana: Sooo, what's this thing you're working on here? It looks like a box on wheels.
Manchego: That's correct.
He nudges the matchbox, which makes a metallic rattle.
Manchego: I'm going to outfit it with a wind-up mechanism, which means I'll be able to turn the key to store up kinetic energy, allowing it to move on its own as the energy gradually releases.
Grana: It'll move without needing to be pushed? That's possible?
Manchego: I believe so, but I have no proof yet.
Grana: It would be very useful for my project. Can you prioritize working on this?
Manchego gestures to the cluttered workshop.
Manchego: I told you before, right? I have many projects going on concurrently. Each will be done in due time.
Grana: But it would help us so much. It would free us from having to sneak things close enough for 9682 to see but far enough to keep out of danger, which we've already failed in doing several times.
Manchego: I understand, but you're aware of how much I detest deadlines. This will be completed when it's complete.
Grana sniffs.
Grana: Fine. If you won't get this done, then we'll just have to deliver a mouse full of poison to 9682 instead…
Manchego: That would be a terrible waste of resources.
Grana: It would be a dead mouse.
Manchego: An unnecessary loss, yes. I wouldn't recommend it.
Grana: What if they make me deliver the poison then?
Manchego stiffens, and his tail starts to lash.
Manchego: What?! They wouldn't possibly. We have that D-class program, do we not?
Grana: Yeah, but—
Manchego: If they tell you to go, Grana, you can't, you—you have to refuse. I don't care how much they want that cheese back, you're not going to s—
Grana hugs him.
Grana: Hey, hey, I was just kidding. I'm not going to get myself killed for nothing.
Manchego: Not for anything. Promise me you won't do anything to put yourself at risk.
Grana: Okay, I promise. Don't worry. Even if our cheese reserves empty tomorrow, I'll never go within a Titan's reach of 9682. You can keep your invention to yourself.
Manchego's tail freezes, and he pulls back slightly.
Manchego: Hang on. Was that an attempt to guilt me into finishing my invention?
Grana releases him, avoiding eye contact.
Grana: Aaand look at the time, I should really get back to my team. Lots of poison to prep, cheese to seize!
Manchego: Grana, I need an ans—
With a flick of her tail, Grana skitters out the door.
Addendum 9682-2: Noteworthy Termination Attempts
| No. | Procedure | Result |
|---|---|---|
| 63 | Place a saucer in SCP-9682's line of sight. The saucer is to be filled with SCP-████7. | SCP-9682 consumed all the liquid and licked the saucer clean. It experienced no visible side effects. |
| 66 | Place a saucer filled with cyanide8 and SCP-████. | SCP-9682 refused to consume the mixture. |
| 70 | Place an apple chunk doused lightly enough with the above mixture to render any scents undetectable. | SCP-9682 consumed the object and experienced no visible side effects. |
| 81 | Arm a snap trap with a block of cheese as bait. | SCP-9682 disarmed the trap by swiping at it and leaping away when it snapped shut. The cheese was not recovered. |
| 90 | Release SCP-1739 near SCP-9682 while it sleeps, then have all observing mousennel cover their eyes. | When observation resumed, SCP-9682 was unharmed10. SCP-173's current whereabouts are unknown. |
| 96 | Request assistance from the GOC, citing the unacceptable threat posed by SCP-9682. | Assessment Team "Seed Gobblers" was dispatched. After observing SCP-9682 for seven days (and losing two chipmunks), they recommended surrender. |
| 97 | Request assistance from the Sparrow's Wing, offering the release of select low-priority anomalies in exchange. | Received response: "Drink poison, Cheese Jailors." No further communications. |
| 98 | Request assistance from other known GoIs, including The Black Queen Ant and Geckos Against Weed. | SCP-9682's appetite appeared to be briefly sated. |
| 99 | Create a combat unit designated Murine Task Force Alpha-1 "Nubbed Tails", composed of volunteer veteran carving mice equipped with the Foundation's sharpest toothpicks. | MTF Alpha-1 managed to approach within 10 tail-lengths of SCP-9682, upon which it began to move. The entirety of Alpha-1 froze stiff, attempted to flee, then were individually consumed. |
Site-4's entrance is an arched doorway, dark inside but brilliantly lit from the lights of the Land of Harvest. Manchego sits on his bottle cap, squinting at SCP-9682's distant form through a small glass disc embedded into a plastic straw.
Grana approaches from behind, her tail limp against the ground.
Grana: It's terrifying, isn't it? They say it gains a new dark spot every time it takes a life, like another soul trapped in its fur.
Manchego: Rumor and superstition. For all its supposed bloodthirst, all it does is remain still until something approaches.
Grana sighs. Manchego lowers the straw as she places an apple chunk into his paw.
Grana: This is the greatest horror we have ever faced. Not just me, but the Foundation as a whole. At least the Titans are slow and stupid, but 9682 is bigger, faster, stronger, and another dozen er-words more than any one of us.
Manchego bites into the apple chunk.
Manchego: Physically, yes, but you know how the saying goes: the greater the body, the simpler the mind.
Grana: Whatever its intelligence, it still seems that the Foundation's best cheesearchers haven't been able to come up with anything that isn't a failure.
Manchego: The Foundation's best… uh, nevermind.
Grana: It's no longer just me—the entire project team is being shamed as useless. We haven't so much as harmed a single fur on 9682's body. All we've done is get poor mice killed.
Manchego: Perhaps this problem simply requires a different approach.
Grana: I agree. We've decided we're going to fight it for real this time.
Manchego: I… don't think that's the approach I had in mind. If nothing else, haven't we determined its physical superiority? For all intents and purposes, it may as well be invincible to us; after all, Alpha-1 was wiped out just days ago.
Grana: I know, but… look, we're out of cheese, and SCP-9682 continues to hoard the Wheel. We have no other choice.
Manchego licks his paw.
Manchego: We do. Cheese is hardly required for our sustenance, and mice can live off other types of food just fine.
Grana: You told me before that I shouldn't give up, right? This is me putting my paw down. A life without cheese is not a life worth living, and so this beast has to be killed. Our mistake last time was sending in regular mice that never should've had to fight. No more D-class. No more carvers. We've come to our last hope: Project R.A.T.
Manchego: R.A.T.?
Grana: Rodent Augmentation Technology. It's something the Foundation has apparently been working on in secret for a while now, ever since we first lost all those mice to the Sparrow's Wing. They've been breeding the perfect soldier; large, bold, and aggressive, with a burly tail and a blunt, shock-absorbing snout. Very intimidating, but dumb enough to follow orders without questioning. In other words, the perfect fit for taking down 9682.
Manchego: It sounds like a monster.
Grana: If it can defeat that creature for us, it'll be our hero.
Manchego: It's a terrible idea borne out of sheer desperation and incompetence. Your project team has no idea what they're doing.
Grana's whiskers twitch.
Grana: None of us do. Can you blame us? Nobody, not even you, has a better way to deal with 9682.
Manchego: Incorrect. I've observed SCP-9682 long enough that I've finally figured it out.
Grana: Oh, really?
Manchego pushes his glasses up.
Manchego: The issue is that you've chosen the wrong problem framing. No being is a mindless killing machine, and even SCP-9682 does not kill on sight. It clearly waits and evaluates before picking its move. If you attack it, of course it'll fight back. If you run from it, of course it'll think you're prey.
Grana: Cheesus Christ, Man. We are prey. We're mice, and if there's only one hard truth we've discovered, it's that 9682 eats mice.
Manchego: No no, it only eats mice that flee. Think about it. It obviously implies that if you were to approach it without fear in your mind—
Grana: And what kind of mouse wouldn't be afraid of that monster?
Manchego: Just listen to—
Grana: Look, this is my fault—I shouldn't have involved you in the project, and whatever bits of secondhand information I've fed you has created the wrong image in your head. Trust me when I say that an impossible theoretical approach isn't what we need; we just need something stronger than it is. Simple as that.
Manchego: You don't trust me anymore.
Grana: I… I do, Man, but I'm tired, lost, and cheeseless. We're betting everything on the Foundation's greatest project, the first mouse to be a true fighter. If that isn't enough, I think we'll have to surrender the Wheel.
Manchego: You said you wouldn't give up.
Grana: I'm just being practical.
Manchego: No, you're being scared.
Grana: I know, it's in our nature.
Grana smiles weakly.
Grana: My apolocheese for being a downer. When this is all over, I'll come find you again, okay?
She turns away, then skitters back to give him a big hug. His ears turn red.
Grana: R.A.T.'s going to work. It has to.
Addendum 9682-3: Project R.A.T. Deployment Summary
The culmination of the years-long Project R.A.T., designated RAT-1, was a giant mouse measuring five tail-lengths long, with paws capable of crushing berries and teeth that tear through paper, additionally outfitted with highly durable cardboard armor. Although its intelligence was lacking, it was capable of understanding and executing simple commands with extreme diligence.
Exactly one month after project initiation, RAT-1 was dispatched from Site-4. Its only command was to kill SCP-9682.
[00:00] RAT-1 enters the Land of Harvest and proceeds at a slow, lumbering pace, bruxing and eye boggling intermittently. SCP-9682 is visible in the distance, dormant.
[00:36] RAT-1 runs into a ceramic pot and is briefly dazed.
[01:17] First sign of SCP-9682 activity. Its ears perk upright, and it rises from the ground.
[01:19] SCP-9682 begins to advance towards RAT-1.
[01:26] RAT-1 approaches within a tails-length of SCP-9682 and stops. SCP-9682 bends its head down to inspect RAT-1.
[01:27:21] SCP-9682 sniffs.
[01:27:23] RAT-1 lunges forward, but SCP-9682 recoils out of range. A deafening hissing becomes audible, followed by all of its upper fur stretching towards the sky.
[01:27:39] RAT-1 lunges and misses again. In response, SCP-9682's swipes its blades across RAT-1's flank, gouging deep gashes in its armor.
[01:27:40] RAT-1 growls deeply.
[01:27:42] SCP-9682 begins to pummel RAT-1 with rapid, powerful strikes from one of its forelegs. RAT-1 attempts to engage but is unable to gain any ground.
[01:27:52] One swipe rakes across RAT-1's eyes, tearing the armor loose from its snout.
[01:27:53] RAT-1 pulls back.
[01:27:55] SCP-9682 closes the distance, slashing at RAT-1. More pieces of armor fall from RAT-1's flank, and blood begins leaking from open wounds.
[01:28:02] RAT-1 turns tail to flee. However, SCP-9682 springs forward and catches RAT-1 in its mouth, lifting its body into the air.
[01:28:23] SCP-9682 wrenches RAT-1 to and fro, then hurls its body in the direction of Site-4. It lands on the ground in a tangled heap and is officially considered deceased.
[01:28:26] SCP-9682 looks up and notices the SCP-9682 project cheesearch team, observing it from Site-4's main entrance.
[01:28:27] SCP-9682 moves towards the site.
[01:28:33] The team retreats out of sight. Guards barricade the entrance with cardboard planks while nearby mousennel hurriedly evacuate from the area.
[01:30] SCP-9682 reaches the main entrance. In seconds, it has destroyed the improvised barrier and begins to sniff around the hole, though it's unable to fit its massive head inside.
[01:31] Site-4 goes into emergency lockdown. SCP-9682 continues to pace and probe while every mouse retreats to the farthest reaches of the site in preparation for an imminent breach.
[02:07] SCP-9682 seems to lose interest. It returns to its original position in front of the Wheel Eternal, casually retrieving RAT-1's corpse as it goes.
Site-4 remained under lockdown for several more hours before it was considered sufficiently safe to resume normal activities. Further defensive countermeasures are being deliberated in case SCP-9682 returns.
Project R.A.T. has been declared a total failure.
A king size Kit Kat wrapper hides in a dark, dusty corner, surrounded by smaller pieces of trash and discard. Grana is lying inside, snout buried between her paws, tail curled underneath her.
The sound of pawsteps precedes Manchego, who appears with drooping ears.
Manchego: Grana? Are you here?
Grana barely stirs. Her voice is muffled.
Grana: Leave me alone.
Manchego: Oh, okay. I'm sorry to bother you.
He turns and begins to leave. Grana lifts her head from her paws, sputtering.
Grana: Wh—Get back here, you idiot.
Manchego: Oh.
Manchego approaches the Kit Kat wrapper again.
Manchego: Are you feeling well?
Grana grumbles.
Grana: Well, what does it look like?
Manchego: Is that rhetorical?
Grana: Why are you here, Manchego? Is it just so you can hear me admit you were right? Yeah, fine, you were right—R.A.T. was never going to work. Doesn't matter how juiced up we make it, a mouse is still just a mouse. A weak, pathetic little mouse who'll never get their cheese.
Manchego: I'm here to make sure you're doing okay.
Grana: Well, I'm not. I'm a failure. They're putting the SCP-9682 project on "indefinite hiatus", which basically means the team's getting disbanded and shoved under the floorboards. The other mice won't acknowledge me anymore. I almost wish they'd go back to whispering instead.
Manchego: R.A.T. really was the last plan?
Grana: Of course we had other ideas, but after what happened? SCP-9682 practically knocked on our front door! That scare alone was enough to end the project, not to mention all the lost lives without a single nibble of cheese to show for it.
Manchego: But, Grana, there has to be more.
Grana: Oh, come off it. The only thing that'd convince anyone would be a nice block of cheese. Titans above, I'd kill for some cheese right now. Although I guess we're long past that point, huh?
Manchego remains silent for a moment, adjusting his glasses before speaking quietly.
Manchego: I'm sorry that I let it come to this. I should've acted much sooner.
Grana sighs.
Grana: It's not your fault. Even if you had joined the project team instead of me, I don't think it would've changed anything. I just… I wish I was smarter. Smart enough to figure this out on my own.
Manchego: Don't put yourself down like that. You're already the smartest cheese-brain I know.
Grana: Not when I haven't done anything right.
Manchego: That's demonstrably untrue. You're the one that discovered how to disarm snap-traps. You helped broker peace with the GOC, and you figured out how to get SCP-1000, those Titans off our backs.
Grana: That was a fluke. All I did was hide better.
Manchego: Simple, yet effective. It's what you're good at, and that's why I like you. Even when I can hardly tolerate anyone else.
She peeks at him between two toes.
Grana: Is that the only reason?
Manchego: Um, no, not at all. You're also, uh, my only friend. And the only reason I have a workshop to myself. Without you, I… I don't know where I'd be, truthfully. It'd be a lonelier place, I imagine.
Her mouth curls into a smile.
Grana: Aw. That's so cheesy.
Manchego: I'll say it again if I have to.
Grana: No need, I get it. I'm being too hard on myself, aren't I? I guess, in the end, there's some things that I just won't be able to do, and that's okay. No one mouse can be the hero alone, but what matters is that I put my best paw forward, right?
Manchego: Exactly. You really did do your best, but it's time to take a break now.
She holds her paws out.
Grana: You're right, I've squeaked enough for the two of us. Just come here already.
Manchego's ears flush pink.
Manchego: Oh, I, uh…
Grana: What, you don't like hugs now?
Manchego: No, I mean, c-can we save it for later?
Grana: Why later?
Manchego: There's… something important I have to do. I'll be back, so please wait for me.
Grana tilts her head curiously.
Grana: Where are you going?
Manchego: I can't say. It's a surprise.
Grana pulls her paws back and shuffles around with a crinkling sound.
Grana: Fine, keep your secrets. It's not like they want me doing cheesearch anymore. Just don't be gone for too long, okay?
Manchego: I won't. I know what I'm doing.
Grana yawns.
Grana: Yeah, yeah. You better come back with cheese from your secret stash that you've had this whole time, or I'm going to be disappointed with you.
He whispers under his breath.
Manchego: I'd bring you the whole Wheel if I could.
Following the dissolution of SCP-9682's project team, Site-4 management issued a statement that the Wheel Eternal was to be considered permanently lost. As Site-4 had been founded around the Wheel Eternal in the first place, a still-ongoing evaluation was initiated to determine if there was enough justification for Site-4's continued existence.
All carving mice were reassigned to new duties, while other staff were given the opportunity to relocate to other Foundation sites at their own discretion.
Soon after, Cheesearcher Manchego was discovered to be missing.
Manchego peers around the corner of a small, deserted hole in a wall, one of Site-4's many side exits. He's wearing a bottle cap atop his head, held in place by strings tied under his snout. There's a quiet squeaking sound, followed by the emergence of a matchbox rolling forward on button wheels, loaded with large apple chunks and a coin.
Immediately outside the site lies the Land of Harvest, a vast, flat plain broken only by towering, sharp-edged structures. Manchego plods onto the cold stone, ignoring the food crumbs scattered around as he whistles to himself, severely off-tune.
In the distance, SCP-9682 looms, bathed in a rectangle of waning, honey-yellow light. Just beyond, the Wheel Eternal beckons in all its mottled glory.
Manchego continues on for some time. Occasionally, he pauses to rest and nibble on the apples, leaving tiny toothmarks in the red skin. The land gradually deepens to a warm reddish-orange that seems to make every surface glow.
As he nears, SCP-9682's large, cupped ears perk up, and it slowly lifts its head, blinking at the little mouse pushing his cart. Its eyes are ink-black slivers, its limbs rippling with musculature.
Manchego stares back, briefly lifting one paw to tilt his bottle cap down.
Manchego: Cheesed to meet you, SCP-9682. You're smaller than I expected.
SCP-9682 uncurls itself, lifting its hindquarters and splaying out its blades. Manchego glances at them. Then, the entity straightens up, retracts its blades and advances towards Manchego, who slows to a stop. He grunts, hefting big apple chunks in his arms and placing them ahead of the cart.
Manchego: They're offerings for you, the biggest, juiciest pieces I could find. This'll keep you occupied for a while, hm?
SCP-9682 lowers its head, sniffing for an extended period of time while Manchego watches, shuffling his paws impatiently. Eventually, SCP-9682 opens its mouth and consumes all the apples in a single bite.
Manchego: Oh. Not much for savoring a meal, are you?
He shakes his head and begins pushing the cart forward again. SCP-9682 presses its nose close to the ground, following him as he hums and looks straight ahead.
Manchego: Curious, are you? Every other mouse you've met must've smelled and acted quite different. It's so easy to imagine them, ears back, belly low, stinking of alarm pheromones. It's not their fault, really. Unlike us, they can't help but be controlled by their instincts.
Manchego: In a way, we're both anomalies, according to the Foundation. Though for our own reasons, I'm sure—my calm rationality, your brute strength. I've watched you over a hundred times, and I'm sure of it. I understand you now. And once I understand something, why would I fear it?
Manchego: Besides, I even brought you treats. No animal can resist food, that's a rule without exceptions. Apples for cheese—a good trade, by all accounts.
He sighs.
Manchego: You wouldn't believe all the rumors being circulated about you. Even something as simple as the spots on your fur is being construed into a graveyard. Isn't it baffling, how simple fear overrides the reason of otherwise sane mice?
Manchego reaches the edge of the Wheel Eternal. It's as round as the moon, its rind a tapestry of flecked gold and ash.
Manchego: It's… really not that grand, even up close. Hardly worthy of being called 'Eternal'.
He turns to SCP-9682, whose face is hardly a whisker's length away, casting a large, dark shadow over the little mouse. Manchego touches his glasses.
Manchego: Say, why do you protect this thing anyways? I've never seen you so much as nibble on it.
SCP-9682 blinks, staring at him. After a moment, it pulls its head back, settling onto its hindquarters again.
Manchego: Well, regardless, you don't mind if I take some, do you?
He lifts the coin off the cart and touches it against the Wheel Eternal, looking at SCP-9682 for a reaction.
Manchego: Your silence means you accept.
He presses down on the coin, then turns to grasp its edge with both hands before pushing down, his paws trembling from exertion.
Manchego: This is… harder than I thought.
SCP-9682 lowers its head to inspect the cart as Manchego's ears turn red.
Manchego: Those brute carvers… made it look… so easy!
He leans his whole body against the top of the coin and jumps up. The coin finally sinks past the Wheel's rind and slides into the soft interior, making Manchego nearly lurch forward in surprise. He laughs as he recovers his balance.
Manchego: Yes! Oh my gouda, Grana will be overjoyed.
Under SCP-9682's watch, he carries the coinful of cheese to the cart and deposits it, then repeats the process many more times until eventually the cart is full.
Manchego wipes his paws on his fur and drops the coin next to the Wheel with a clink.
Manchego: For my next trip.
He returns to the cart and hesitates before removing one chunk of cheese, placing it in front of SCP-9682.
Manchego: A token of gratitude?
SCP-9682 sniffs the cheese only briefly before consuming it.
Manchego: You're not so different from mice after all. Although if you don't hate cheese, why don't you ever take a bite out of the Wheel?
He rubs his paws together.
Manchego: A mystery for another time. I'll be off then, SCP-9682.
He begins pushing the cart, starting to hum, when SCP-9682 extends its foreleg to block the cart's movement.
Manchego: Don't tell me you want another? You've got the whole Wheel to yourself, you know. Or do you just need me to carve it up for you?
Manchego lifts another chunk from the cart and places it down. SCP-9682 retracts its foreleg but ignores the cheese.
Manchego: Good day.
He begins moving again, and SCP-9682 responds by extending its foreleg to prod at Manchego's body, pushing him away from the cart insistently.
Manchego: You—what do you want? I put the cheese down already. Take it if you please.
He attempts to re-approach the cart, only for SCP-9682 to move him back with its foreleg. This repeats multiple times, and Manchego's tail begins to lash.
Manchego: I came all this way to bring you an offering, and you want me to return to her empty-pawed?
He rushes at the cart. SCP-9682 extends a single blade, and Manchego skids to a stop just in time for its tip to graze but not pierce his skin.
He thinks for a moment, breathing quickly.
Manchego: I—I—I get it. You don't want me to take the cheese. Okay! Fine, you could have communicated that properly. You can have the cheese! Let me just unload it and take my cart back.
He slowly backs up, and SCP-9682 traces its blade along his fur.
Manchego: No cart? Well, that's a shame, but I understand your desire to preserve such a handy creation. It's yours too! I'll just…
He backs away from the cart and SCP-9682, who slowly rises from its seated position.
Manchego: Now, there's quite no need to trouble yourself with that. I'm just a scrawny, dirty mouse who'll bring you more apples if you only leave me be.
He hugs the ground, moving slowly away from the Wheel, but SCP-9682 follows behind him. It reaches out to prod him repeatedly with its foreleg, making his movements unsteady.
Manchego: But I did everything right, you ate the food, you—
Manchego flattens his ears and tucks his tail close, breathing rapidly enough that his fur appears as though it's fluttering.
Manchego: It was never about the food.
He unties the bottle cap from his head, holding it in between his paws, and takes a shaky breath.
Manchego: O-Oh, hell.
He throws the bottle cap against the entity's flank and simultaneously darts forward, paws moving as quickly as he can. SCP-9682 is faster, springing forward in a blur of speed to catch Manchego in its jaws, bringing his squirming body high up in the air. SCP-9682 swivels its head for a moment before tossing Manchego back where he was. He lands with a squeal, twitching, his glasses cracking against the ground.
Manchego: No, no, no…
He clutches his snout in his paws.
Manchego: I was wrong, wrong, I—
As he curls into himself, his wounds stretch and make him squeak in pain. He looks down at the cherry-red stains blossoming across his fur, eyes widening.
Manchego: What…?
He jerks his head up, squinting at his cart filled with cheese. He squints at SCP-9682 and its bloodstained blades, and he squints at the distant, open entrance of Site-4.
Manchego: Oh Grana, are you there?
He grits his teeth.
Manchego: Just wait for me.
As SCP-9682 languidly draws closer, Manchego clutches the ground and crawls towards the cart. With shaking paws, he grasps the key embedded into the cart's end and turns it, over and over in clicking circles.
Manchego: Please…
Slowly and silently, SCP-9682's shadow engulfs him. He looks up, craning his neck at the pale fur visible beneath the entity's chin—the only blank area among a sea of black spots.
Manchego: Wasn't a rumor… no, room for one more?
SCP-9682 moves closer and he immediately releases the key. The cart shoots forwards between the entity's legs with a faint whirring noise, and Manchego exhales, trembling violently.
Manchego: Alright, then. D-Do as you must.
Instead, SCP-9682 turns its head to follow the cart. Manchego stiffens as the entity extends its blades.
Manchego: No! You—stop! Look at me!
He shrieks at the top of his lungs and scampers away. SCP-9682 reacts immediately, twisting away from the cart to leap towards him, but Manchego veers off to the side at the last instant. He skitters as fast as his paws will allow, winding his way in red dotted zig-zags.
With each step his wounds flare, and he can't help but stumble. SCP-9682 seizes the opportunity to sink its blades into his fur and flesh, bringing him up to its open maw as his paws wriggle uselessly in the air.
He whimpers.
Manchego: I… I want a hug…
SCP-9682 bites down, and the little mouse goes still.
In the distance, the matchbox cart rolls quietly along, stuffed to the brim with cheese.
.
