famine's gift

Your time is up, Pierre. Stop this fight. It’s useless. I’ve beaten you and your men. Show your self!” Famine screamed at the cameras and other pieces of technology. “I know you can hear me!”

A door opened, revealing an older man with white hair.

“Your latest attack failed Pierre. Give up,” Famine addressed the man. Pierre stayed silent. “Well?” the hero shouted. “Are you going to answer me?”

Famine felt a small dart prick his neck. He tore it out and faced his attacker. His attacker was… Pierre. Famine looked over to the door way and saw the other pierre flicker and disappear. Famine’s body felt tired. It felt sluggish. It wasn’t moving. Why can’t I move?

“I’ve studied you for years. I learned your fighting style, your powers. I studied your limits and your weaknesses. I know how to beat you.”

“You couldn’t have studied me. That’s impossible!”

“I watched you as you defeated me time and time again. I didn’t enjoy losing, but it was for a greater cause. During your sparring with my men, I noticed you threw punches with your left hand more than seventy percent of the time. Those you threw with your right hand were not as effective. They were uncoordinated and not as dangerous.

You favored your left hand and I wondered why. I looked at your right hand as much as was possible. I noticed that beneath your glove was a tattoo. Your tattoo baffled me, so I studied tattoos of different cultures. Yours was similar to those used in some island cultures. They believed that their tattoos gave them power. I sent them a message pertaining to their “power tattoos”. They told me it was based on the fact that their god had tattoos that gave him power and they wanted to be like him.

I researched their ‘god’ and learned that such a man did exist. He was a chieftain in one of their tribes who discovered the secret to ultimate power and eternal life. When Europeans came to those islands a man stopped them. They were there to enslave those islanders. Because of this, he sank their ships and left them stranded in the middle of the ocean with only a longboat as safety. They were eventually rescued but their tale was dismissed as those of madmen.”

“No…”

“Oh yes, Famine, your time is up. I know what you are. You can bend reality at will. You are not natural. You deserve to die. But, to continue my tale, the islanders never saw their god again. My guess is you’re that chieftain and you decided you wanted to explore the world. You left the islands to their own devices and explored the world using your powers to manipulate and kill people. You then came here and settled down, but old habits die hard. You used your powers and dispatched everyone who angered you. You were a criminal. After that hold-up in the bank, you realized what you did. You tried to help others by taking the guise of a hero. But, you are no hero. You’re despicable. You kill people at will and take what you want.

“No, that’s not me. I haven’t hurt anyone.”

“You’re lying!”

“No!”

Pierre pulled a small revolver out of his coat. He pointed it at Famine’s right hand and pulled the trigger. Famine screamed in pain as his hand was virtually destroyed. He rolled over, nursing his hand.

“No! I’m innocent!” Famine screamed in agony.

“Now! Time… To… Die!” Pierre shouted, leveling his revolver at the man’s head.


Outside the warehouse, police waited for their hero to emerge. They couldn’t face this criminal. They weren’t prepared. They had been sheltered by Famine for so long they didn’t know what to do.

The officers waited for their hero to emerge victorious. They waited and waited.

Bam…

A gunshot sounded from inside the building.


Item #: SCP-3497

Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: [DATA CORRUPT]
Description: SCP-3497 is a male of oceanic descent. The subject’s age cannot be ascertained. SCP-3497 has been comatose since initial containment. A tattoo is on the subject’s right hand and arm. The design has been traced back to [REDACTED]
While asleep, the subject’s dreams will appear on any reflective surface within 2.5m. Any person who is in the vicinity of SCP-3497 will appear in its dreams.
SCP-3497 will often appear as a hero in the dreams. Depending on the subject of the dream, the tattoo will shift colors.


“Pierre, his heart stopped,” a researcher said to Dr. Pierre.

“I wish it hadn’t ended. His dreams were interesting. Will there be a service at all, a funeral?”

“I don’t know, but I can ask the higher-ups.”

“Ask them about what?”

“About the scip over… there,” the researcher said, pointing to an empty bed.

“What scip?”

“I… I don’t know.”

SCP-3497 had disappeared from his bed.


Thoughts, confused thoughts, swirled in the darkness like leaves swept away by the wind. They collided, sparking. Slowly they formed coherent words. An identity revealed itself from that void.

What was it? Who was it? No, it was a “he,” not an “it”. Who was he? Who is he? Wait, I’m myself. I exist. I need to wake up

A memory of his past flooded his mind. An island with ships. They were sinking. Something was floating in the air above them. A man. His hand blazed with a red light. He was angry.

“Famine! Wake up,” a voice said.

The blackness faded. Famine sat up and looked around his surroundings. He was still in his cell; only, it appeared like it hadn’t been used for ages. A fine layer of dust had settled on everything.

What happened? Last thing I remember was Pierre shooting me. But that was in my dreams. Something isn’t right.

“Famine! Come to the control room. I’ll explain everything there. If you see anything move, other than yourself, run,” the voice said. “Here, I’ll open a door for you.”

A door materialized in the wall next to Famine. He stood up and peered out of it. A shadow darted across the end of the corridor. Footprints had been left in the dust. Whatever that shadow was, it was barefoot.

“Go left, then right. If you do that, you just have to go straight to get to the control room.”

I don’t know if I should trust the voice. It’s the only thing I’ve met since I woke up.

You decide whether Famine follows the footprints or listen to the voice