Project Crossover » Dial S For SCP
"…This is an actual item?"
"… An actual item to be kept and contained on Site. Not one of those random weird objects we have, like the ducks?"
"Sir, it took us two MTF teams and some of the heavy artillery just to contain it again after initial discovery of its effects."
"Vines, it's a rotary phone dial!"
"A Keter one, yes sir."
Senior Researcher Rob Reed sighed. "This is your first day isn't it, Vines?"
"Sir, its effects would pretty much make this Keter!"
Reed and Vines stared at the harmless looking dial through the bulletproof glass. It looked so mundane, a plain old rotary phone dial, separate from the rest of the phone. It sat on the table in the observation room, doing nothing.
"Alright, let's do this thing. Send in the D-Class!"
A light by the observation room door flashed and a D-Class entered. The D-Class looked around and then towards the dial.
"D-6175161, please approach the table and pick up the item."
D-6175161 picked the dial up and inspected it. "What's this one do? Call the dead or something?"
The two researchers jotted down some notes.
"Please enter the following numbers into the dial. 0, 7, 2, 7."
The D-Class did as instructed, the dial making a pleasant "sssshhhclick!" noise as the dial wound back. After entering the last digit, a blinding light filled the observation room. As the light began to diminish, a new shape took the place of D-6175161. It was still humanoid, however its arms ended in what looked like MP5K machine guns and a smooth black sheen covered its entire body. There were hardly any curves, giving the being an almost machine-like appearance, as well as a third larger cannon-like protrusion in its head.
The researchers stared at the creature inside the observation room. Vines buzzed the intercom.
"D-6175161? D-6175161, please respond."
The being in the observation room raised its head, "I am Orgun!" came a voice from the cannon's bore. It echoed and sounded nothing like the D-Class who picked up the dial.
Reed and Vines both drew a blank.
"D-6175161, can you tell us anything about what you're experiencing right now?"
The creature tilted its head quizzically. "I'm afraid, I don't understand your question."
"D-6175161, you have Machine guns for hands. Does this not disturb you?"
"Why on earth would it? It's how I was made!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"As far back as I can remember, I was made like this."
"D-6175161, you recall you are taking part in an experiment for The Foundation?"
"And yet, you've just told me you remember being made like that?"
Vines leaned in, "Sir, perhaps it's part of the effect?"
"Perhaps. D-6175161, your… artillery. Is it functional?"
"Yes sir. Would you care for a demonstration?"
"Vines, those walls are bulletproof, right?"
"I believe so, sir."
"Very well, D-6175161, you may proceed."
Without hesitation, the creature turned to face the opposing wall and fired a brief burst into it. The security cameras zoomed in on the bullets embedded in the wall. Or what should have been bullets. The monitors the two researchers were looking through revealed what looked to be human teeth.
"Sir, isn't that similar to what 126 can do?"
"Well, it's a machine gun which is also part organic.
"Can't say it doesn't…"
"You have got to be fucking kidding…"
Vines and Reed had a thick pad of documents in front of them. In the observation room, a new one, without teeth stuck in the back wall and reinforced to study the more dangerous side of Euclid-class items, was the rotary dial.
"So, this dial somehow turns people into super hero-versions of SCPs?"
"Yes sir, it's like something out of those comics which keep showing up…"
"What, those 'Foundation Force' ones?"
"I saw some of those, the art in some of the later issues were weird…"
"Can we concentrate please, sir?"
Alright, send the D-Class in!"
A D-Class entered the observation room. She picked up the dial.
"So, what am I doing?"
"Please dial the following number, D-4144445. 0 7 2 7."
After the light had returned to normal, in place of the D-Class was a scrawny man in tattered winter clothing. There were icicles hanging everywhere off the man and he appeared to be shivering.
"D-4144445, please state your name and any ability you may have."
"I a-a-am, C-c-c-creep-ping Cold!" The man replied between moist sounding sniffs, he then proceeded to extend his frostbitten fingers out towards the observation window. Ripples in the air caused the window to vibrate slightly. With nothing apparently happening, the man called Creeping Cold put his hand down.
"I repeat, please STATE any ability you may possess!"
"Hrrmm… I can inflict Frostbite upon my enemies."
Vines consulted the pad, "Seems more than likely either, 532 or 649." He studied the being in the room.
"Let's go with 532."
"Great stuff, thank you, D-4144445. Please return to normal, dial 7 2 7 0."
Vines' hand was still shaking.
"Okay, no more random dialling. I don't need to see another… thing which looks like You-Know-What calling itself 'Grandma's Footstep'!"
"I agree, we're lucky we've not dialled anything Keter yet."
"Shall we try the number followed by the item number?"
"Vines, what on earth did this thing conjure up when we found it?"
"Not sure. I heard off of one of the surviving MTFs it looked like a man shaped version of one of the 111s we have. Said it was confused and screaming about 'The Doctor's Wonder-Dome' or something."
"Let's stick to humanoids for now…"
"Is that wise, sir?"
"One of the cooperative ones."
"Alright, D-7164343, pick up the dial and enter the following numbers. 0 7 2 7 0 1 0 5."
In the D-Class' place was a young woman with long blonde hair, a skin tight blue costume and an elaborately designed Polaroid camera. She didn't seem shocked by her situation.
"D-7164343, would your current civilian identity be Iris Thompson?"
"I'm not at liberty to say, sir."
"Firstly, that would defeat the entire purpose of the mask I'm wearing, sir. And secondly, that information is restricted. If you want any more info regarding me or anyone else in Project: Pandora, you may wish to contact the Security Commission for Powers Foundation."
"We have a whole universe out there, where another Foundation acts as a god damned security force using SCiPs a costumed heroes, and not one of them knows about this dial?!"
"They weren't all from their world's Foundation! According to the paper-kid, Wondertainment's got his own team of home-made heroes. Then there's that speaker-faced guy who said he was from the Church…"
"Vines, this is insane."
"Isn't that all we deal with, sir? I mean, we've had an anthropomorphic rabbit astronaut, a sentient hole in the universe and an un-dead, rotting dinosaur from hell. And that was just today!"
"Not what I mean, Vines."
"And quite frankly, sir. I could have done without a tank-man-thing telling me how to do my job better! I don't care how many qualifications it had."
"No, Vines. I mean why is it classed as Keter?"
Vines stared blankly for a moment and pointed at the results. "It says so right there, sir! If this thing's used it could potentially destroy the Earth!"
"And if it's not used?"
"I thought as much…"
"I'll just mark it as 'Safe'."