Immersturm Is Here

A Creeping Sense of Red

60 Days to the End

Arms folded, fingers flexing repeatedly, Charlotte Scavo was having a difficult day. Not, mind you, the kind of day where you wake up and think to yourself, Wow, I wish I had stayed in bed, but rather the kind of day where you wake up and think to yourself, Wow, maybe if I go back to bed I can wake up as someone else. And who could blame her? After all, the organization that she had dedicated no less than five years of her life towards had, rather unceremoniously, reassigned her from her comfortable post at Site-34 to a fresh, unheard-of department with a mission that ran completely in the opposite direction of what the Foundation was known for.

Charlotte glanced at herself in the elevator door’s reflection through her bulky glasses; her eyes, typically a piercing sort of blue, had been dulled. Her dark hair was a mess. She took a few fortifying breaths, only for the doors to open and that feel that fortification drained away. With one last breath, she stepped into the SCP Foundation’s newly-formed Ruby Royalty Division.

The Division was, on the surface, identical in appearance to any other Foundation building. A stark, brutalist exterior with sterile, whitewashed hallways and fluorescent lighting. But as Charlotte walked those halls, she could tell something was different. There was electricity in the air, spread and exemplified in the people she passed, and it was difficult to tell whether it was excitement, fear, or something between the two.

With quickened steps, she made her way to Interrogation Room 231. There, she found her target: a man, about 35 years of age, with a heavily scarred and hairless head, dressed in a red suit. His name, as the clutched file in Charlotte’s arms read, was Dominic Shaw, and he was the head of the Sanguine Prophets, a group that had splintered off from the Children of the Scarlet King.

Dominic nodded as Charlotte took the seat opposite him at the table. “Ms. Scavo, at last. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Charlotte gave a slight nod in the name of decency. “Mr. Shaw. Were you kept waiting long?”

Dominic leaned back in his chair. “They space out these meetings just long enough to ensure we sweat. We squirm in our little seats, and we wonder what’s going to happen to us. Even now, when our respective organizations are approving of our goings-on, that hasn’t changed.”

Charlotte scowled. “Don’t mistake our partnership for approval, Mr. Shaw. Unlike you and yours, the Foundation acts out of necessity.”

Dominic shrugged. “Necessity or no, we are prepared to act. We’ve been prepared to act for some time now, ever since the original Children of the Scarlet King were destroyed. And with the Foundation’s resources? Maybe we can finally make some meaningful progress.”

Charlotte reordered her files. “About that. I’m to act as your official liaison between the Sanguine Prophets and the Foundation, but there are ground rules the Ruby Royalty Director wants me to go over with you before beginning in earnest.”

“I’m all ears.”

“As I said: the Foundation isn’t approving of your group, nor what actions you will undertake. We’re acting out of necessity. That means whatever you do, whatever rituals you attempt, you’ll do it with only the bare minimum of cruelty.”

“And I suppose you’ll be overseeing everything the entire time to make sure that’s the case?”

“Exactly. Also, in the interest of holding you accountable, we are expected to deliver tangible results of our efforts in exactly sixty days from today.”

“So we have a due date.”

“It was passed down to my superiors directly… directly from the Overseers.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow in mock concern. “Still having difficulty processing that fact, are we?”

Charlotte sighed. “Aren’t you?”

Dominic scoffed. “I suppose I am, though I imagine it’s different for me than for you. After all, it’s not every day your mortal enemy calls you up and announces they’re ready to assist in achieving your greatest goal.”

“You’re referring to summoning the Scarlet King, right?”

“Bingo. When the King arrives, the Earth will be scoured clean of humanity. I imagine that would be the easiest, most cost-effective solution to all our problems, wouldn’t you agree?”

Charlotte bit her tongue to stop herself from snapping at Dominic. His glib nature, his nonchalant style of discussing systematic mass murder, was already beginning to grate on her nerves. “Whether I agree or not, we’ll need to cooperate, Mr. Shaw. How soon can you start?”

Dominic smiled. While Charlotte was prepared for it to contain no mirth, she was nonetheless disturbed by it. “Make it ‘Dominic.’ And we will start right away, Ms. Scavo.”


45 Days to the End

“Mr. Shaw?”

“Please, Ms. Scavo, there’s no need for formalities, not now. Call me-”

“No, I don’t think I will. Mr. Shaw, what…what is this? All of this?”

“This? We cut through her ribcage, then we proceeded to remove her lungs. Delicate work, considering we needed to keep her alive for as long as possible. Her suffering was a part of the ritual.”

“I know what a blood eagle is, Mr. Shaw. What I want to know is exactly why you’re doing this.”

“I thought that was clear from our first meeting. We’re trying to summon the Scarlet King to this plane.”

“… Yes, that’s obviously our ultimate goal, but what’s separating all this from an ordinary serial killing?”

“The ritual.”

“The ritual?”

“Yes, the Foundation’s files were quite clear on this matter. We consulted the previous attempt made by the Red Guards and put our own variation on it. Here, you can see the Foundation’s symbol, drawn in her blood to enhance our efforts, and here you can see-”

“I can see just fine, Mr. Shaw.”

“Why, Ms. Scavo, is that a conscience I see? From a Foundation employee? How surprising. I thought at least as an artist you would appreciate-”

“Enough. Please. Just… give me the results.”

“Ah, to business, then. Well, as you can clearly see, the ritual failed.”

“Do you understand why it failed?”

“We have our theories.”

“Theories?”

“Magic and thaumaturgy are hardly exact sciences. We’re lucky this didn’t go the way of the Red Guards and kill us all.”

“Mr. Shaw, it’s been fifteen days. We have forty-five. Keep going.”

“As you wish. Perhaps you’d prefer if I simply sent you the details of our next effort over email, as opposed to discussing them in person?”

“No.”

“Why?”

"I hate this. You know I hate this. But I also need to be here. I need to see it. I’m already damned. Both of us are. But I’m going to make sure this is done right.”


30 Days to the End

Once upon a time, Charlotte read somewhere that the small and large intestines of a human could measure nearly five meters in length, possibly even more. The thought had always seemed ridiculous to her; the notion that, coiled up inside each person, is a tube that could be twice, or even three times as long as their height, was the sort of thing Charlotte had once said in passing to a colleague that she would have to see it to believe it.

Charlotte, looking back on that conversation, wished she had chosen her words more carefully. Seven individuals were arranged around the room, their innards stretched as far as they could go, forming a tangled knot nearly waist-high in the center in a grisly display.

Dominic approached the ball and pulled a cigarette out of his suit pocket. "Do you smoke, Ms. Scavo?"

Charlotte, consciously trying to keep a straight face, only barely registered the question. "No."

Dominic took a drag on the cigarette and immediately broke into a coughing fit. He spoke with a hacking sort of wheeze. "Neither do I. But… I've always dreamed of doing something like this." After clearing his throat several times, he proceeded to put the cigarette out by jamming it into the apex of the knot. Something sizzled, and the smell of burning tobacco joined the smell of human insides.

Charlotte straightened her lab coat and swallowed her disgust. "Mr. Shaw, need I remind you that we have a deadline that is rapidly approaching? We don't have time to live out whatever twisted fantasies you might dream up."

Dominic turned away from the knot. "Of course. Even so, I trust you will be pleased to know, we have made quite a leap from our previous endeavor."

"How so?"

"This time around, there was a significant thaumaturgical reaction. The innards and the knot ignited briefly, and a portal to the Scarlet King's realm manifested at that moment. We are definitely getting closer."

Charlotte could only think about how much she wanted this project to be finished, how badly she wanted to take a battery of amnestics to never think of this again. "Very well. If we're making progress, then I'll see about requesting additional funding and resources. Bear in mind, though, we only have a month, so our next endeavor needs to pay off, and quickly."

Dominic closed his eyes thoughtfully, and Charlotte didn't like to think about the thoughts floating through that pockmarked head. "I have just the idea."


15 Days to the End

Nothing about the room was right. The walls were buckling. The floor was slanted. Even the flickering light was reminiscent of spoiled milk. And the room was coated red.

Charlotte realized her mistake breathing in through her nose as she entered and immediately tried to compensate by switching to mouth-breathing, but the room had both scent and taste. Up came her lunch and onto the floor, a patch of yellowish-green in an ocean of bloodstains.

Behind her was Dominic, who did not vomit, but instead frowned in displeasure. “Well. This didn’t go according to plan.”

Charlotte righted herself, furious, but keeping control of herself. “You think?! Look at this! All of this!”

“It was a gamble, Ms. Scavo. We both knew this attempt was experimental in nature. That’s why neither you nor I were here.”

Charlotte looked around the room and forced her heart down from her throat. The blood, bones, and flesh of Dominic Shaw’s Sanguine Prophets intermingled with those of their sacrifices. Innocents, she thought. They had no idea what they were in for. Because their fear and suffering were supposed to be a necessary part of this.

Dominic, unheeding Charlotte’s moral quandary, approached one mound of skin. Taking out a combat knife, he knelt and sliced off a thin strip, and placed it in his mouth, chewing slowly. The action was made without any fanfare or excitement. Like it was the most logical thing in the world for Dominic to be chewing on the tangled remains of what were once men, women, and children.

Charlotte, watching, kept what was left of her breakfast in her stomach and her heart from breaking through force of will. All of this, and for what? she thought. We’ve aligned ourselves with the monsters we were supposed to protect the world from. And they won’t even tell us why we need to succeed at this.

Dominic finished with his grotesque snack, rose from the pile, and turned back to Charlotte. “Fifteen days until showtime. I’ll see you back in the lab.”

Dominic left then. Charlotte, alone amidst the massacre, took a shuddering breath and stifled her sobs, but could not fully suppress her tears.


7 Hours to the End

Dominic had arrived at the ritual site first to prepare, a crimson, seven-sided structure built high in Sierra Madrona. Charlotte, unlike the previous attempts, decided she would witness the process firsthand, regardless of the potential risk. She expected degradation, horror, and violent abandon.

What she did not expect was her twin.

Charlie, ever the image of professionalism, was in many ways the male mirror image of Charlotte, complete with long, black hair and bulky glasses. The most notable difference, however, was that the previous sixty days had very much worn down Charlotte, whereas Charlie’s blue eyes held a piercing, cold bitterness to them.

Charlotte brightened slightly at the sight of him. “Charlie? I-I… what are you doing here?”

Charlie chuckled ruefully. “It’s good to see you too, Char. The higher-ups in Pataphysics decided to give me a break, for tonight at least. How have you been?”

Charlotte’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry - I should’ve reached out to you. It’s good to see you too. It’s just been… these past months have been… difficult.”

“Building up to the big finale, huh?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Well, I suppose you’ve impressed someone somewhere. When I mentioned I’d come to visit, the Ruby Royalty Division sent me with a gift.”

Charlotte, confused, glanced at the small, paper-bound bundle in Charlie’s left hand. “I don’t understand. Nothing we’ve done has worked. It’s all just been grisly failures. Christ, Charlie, it’s been horrible… the things I’ve done… what I’ve authorized-”

“Perhaps that’s why you’re being given this.”

Charlie passed the parcel to Charlotte. She weighed it in her hands - it wasn’t particularly heavy. She tore the paper to reveal a frame, containing a recognizable medal with a plaque that read:

Charlotte Scavo
in recognition of her service
with the Ruby Royalty Division

Charlotte furrowed her brow. “The Foundation Star? They’re giving me the Foundation Star?”

“Perhaps they know just how hard your work has been.”

Charlotte nodded slowly, sliding the medal, frame and all, into an oversized lab coat pocket. “Thank you. Thank you for this, Charlie.”

A slight smile graced Charlie’s usually dour features. “My pleasure. Want me to stick around for the procedure?”

Charlotte weighed the options for a moment before answering. “I would. Though I’ll warn you - describing what’ll happen as ‘unpleasant’ is putting it mildly.”

Charlie gestured to the structure. “Wouldn’t be Foundation work if it was any other way.”

Charlotte led the way, opening the doors and slipping inside. Within, the structure was completely hollow, with seven sets of stairs leading up to a central dais with a simple granite slab for an altar. Torches lit the room, and holding the torches were hooded, red-robed figures - Charlotte couldn't count them all. Dominic, his robe embroidered with all manner of arcane runes, stood between Charlotte, Charlie, and the altar.

Dominic beamed joylessly. “Ah, Ms. Scavo! Welcome! And I see you brought a friend! Is this the fabled Mr. Scavo?”

Charlotte surprised herself by quelling her desire to snap at Dominic. “Yes, this is my brother, Charlie.”

A brief pause.

“Charlie, say ‘hi.’”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Hi. I’m Charlie Scavo.”

Dominic bowed low. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. By your leave, Ms. Scavo, shall we begin?”

Charlotte folded her arms defensively. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Dominic turned back to his congregation as they moved towards the central altar. “Brothers and sisters! The hour is nearly upon us when the Scarlet King will stride through this world once again! But first, I must ask you: what is the Scarlet King? Is he a great and terrible reptile, a devourer of worlds? Is he a nether-deity that laid with his seven daughters, spawning legions of nightmares to drown the world in blood? Is he the primal force between civilization and what came before, that thing that says our place in the universe is naked, starving, and terrified?

Dominic proceeded up the stairs, taking his place in front of the altar, arms raised high. Even Charlotte had difficulty denying his charisma.

“I tell you now: the answer doesn’t matter! Is the Scarlet King the Lord of the Maelstrom, or is he the Maelstrom itself? The uncaring storm will sweep us all away all the same! But in all the literature surrounding His Royal Majesty, there are consistencies. The color red… a flaming crown…”

Seven figures were pulled forcefully, to the altar. Women, bruised and gagged, dressed in rags. They were all heavily pregnant.

“… and an archaic fear of female sexuality.”

Charlotte’s heart dropped. “Shaw! This isn’t what we agreed upon!”

If Dominic could hear Charlotte, he didn’t show it. His acolytes forced the women towards the altar.

“From the flesh of these women, we give the gift of fresh life to our King!”

“Shaw, stop this!”

The acolytes tied the women down to the altar. They screamed the kind of raw, pained scream that would leave a throat bleeding. Charlotte wasn’t a medical doctor, but even she could tell they were about to give birth.

“Just as the Devourer of Worlds will consume us all, so shall we devour both mother and child, seven times over!”

Charlotte began to force her way through the crowd as they started to chant in a low, forbidden, forgotten language.

“Shaw!”

“A new world of blood for the Old Gods and dust for the New King will be wrung from the souls of our pitiful species!”

Charlotte reached into her pocket and slipped her Foundation Star out of its frame. Tying it around her hand, she punched Dominic across the face with all her strength, the metal splitting his cheek open.

Dominic spun away, falling upon the steps leading up to the altar. He spat out a mouthful of blood and curses. “Foundation bitch. You can’t stop us.”

“Shut up!” Charlotte launched another haymaker into Dominic’s face, landing square against his nose, which gave way with a sickening crunch.

“You’ll only enhance the ritual. We’ll eat the fetuses, then the women, and then you.”

“Shut! Up!”

Adrenaline thundered in Charlotte’s ears. She threw blow after blow into Dominic’s mangled features until her hand was thoroughly soaked, and she couldn’t tell whose blood it was - the medal had torn into her knuckles.

Dominic smiled that damnable, gut-churning smile of his through a mouthful of chipped teeth. “Heh… at last… there she is…”

Charlotte couldn’t stop herself, even if she wanted to. And she didn’t want to. Unraveling the medal from her hand, she wrapped it around Dominic’s throat so tightly that the Foundation Star was poking holes in the skin. Dominic thrashed, clawing fruitlessly at Charlotte’s face, then her hands, but what had been set in motion could not be stopped. He began to twitch, his eyes rolled back, and his skin turned a ghostly pale. Charlotte didn’t stop, though. She had to make absolutely, positively sure that he was dead, and she kept strangling him until he was no longer twitching and his chest was no longer rising with breath.

It was then that Charlotte noticed something odd as she pulled away from Dominic’s corpse. It was hard to tell in the dim torchlight of the room, but upon closer inspection, Dominic’s robes weren’t entirely red. They had tinges of white - and the red was centered around the runes.

Charlotte, coming down from the adrenaline high and the realization that she just killed someone with her bare hands, didn’t understand why she was doing what she was doing. She carefully, gingerly, undid Dominic’s robe. She hadn’t noticed it before, but looking again made her realize that the runes weren’t embroidered into the robe. The robe itself was partially translucent, and the runes were carved directly into Dominic Shaw’s chest. The robe was only red because he was bleeding on it.

Charlotte scrambled away from the corpse, eyes wide with panic. The pregnant women at the altar screamed one last time as the assembled Sanguine Prophets’ chanting reached a fever pitch. Charlotte watched as Dominic’s blood, and the bodies of the seven pregnant women, ignited before rising into the air, forming a flaming disk that set the roof of the building ablaze. The ground began to shake, and the cultists, suddenly filled with unspeakable fear, fled, trampling one another to escape the very thing they had brought into the world.

Charlotte struggled to her feet and was surprised to receive help from Charlie. “I-I-I don’t understand,” she whispered breathlessly. “What did I do?”

Charlie’s features were grim but overlaid with a deep sadness. “Charlotte, the Scarlet King doesn’t respond to rituals or organized attempts to contact it. It responds to decisions and acts of primal and instinctive fury, rage, and hatred.”

Charlotte looked to her brother, confused. “How do you know that? Charlie, how could you possibly know that? You’re not a part of the Ruby Royalty Division.”

Charlie closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes. I am.”

Charlotte’s confused expression gradually shifted to horrified as she began to understand. “I did it. It was me - when I killed Shaw. I opened the portal.”

“Yes. You did. And while the Scarlet King probably won’t be able to make it through, I imagine something of that size will at least be able to squeeze out a few of his minions.”

“And you knew? You knew this would happen?”

“Charlotte, you’re one of the few people left in the Foundation who truly isn’t bitter or cold. You’ve always been the sweeter of the two of us. Nobody else could muster that rage, that hate, that sheer indignation that would be necessary to kill our predetermined sacrifice to ensure success. That’s why, when asked by our superiors, I recommended you to work with Shaw.”

“You used me.”

“Yes.”

Charlotte punched Charlie in the chest, staggering him. “You used me.”

“Charlotte, you’re helping the Foundation in exterminating the human race. Did you ever stop to think of what would happen?”

“I don't know. I thought whatever the Foundation was doing, it was for the greater good. And I thought that at least the two of us would be safe. That we could escape.” Tears ran down Charlotte’s face. "Do you know why? Do you know why the Foundation is doing this?"

Charlie pulled Charlotte in for a hug as she sobbed into his chest. “I don't. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I used you. I’m sorry I put you through all this. And I’m sorry there isn’t a place for us in the Foundation’s designs.”

Tears of his own ran down Charlie’s face as the unspeakable things crawled out of the fiery gate.


The End

skiplogosmall

The following is a message composed via consensus of the O5 Council.

For those who are not currently aware of our existence, we represent the organization known as the SCP Foundation. Our previous mission centered around the containment and study of anomalous objects, entities and other assorted phenomena. This mission was the focus of our organization for more than one-hundred years.

Due to circumstances outside of our control, this directive has now changed. Our new mission will be the extermination of the human race.

There will be no further communication.