Money8

Link to article: Money8.

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[[/module]]

Nothing normal lived here anymore. A ruined metropolis laid across soft, gray dust of the ground. The rocks that used to constitute the foundation of Earth have eroded as the eons passed.

Here lies the fate of all universes. Be they protected by the Foundation till the end of time or taken away prematurely by an entity of Fate.

The only endemic inhabitants were the immortal ones. All the rest didn’t belong. They were those travelers and wanderers who used this reality as storage or escape from the eyes of the interlopers.

On an unassuming dune of coarse soot, Junior popped into view. His feet pressed into the dust a few inches. A layer of floating dust settled a few inches above his ankle.

“Okay! Stay still for 10 seconds. If that Warden doesn’t come out, then we’re safe. They really only cause me trouble if they start to follow.” After the designated 10 seconds, Duchamp let out a relaxed sigh.

“Thank Christ…You know Junior, those creepsters are some of the most annoying things you’ll have to deal with as you start doing more missions.”

“More missions?” thought Junior. He was long tired of the cumbersome chase he was already involved in.

“Don’t worry, though. The thief is here for sure. Look around.” Duchamp said while returning to his relaxed disposition.

Junior discerned a few objects of interest. By this point not too much would surprise or shock him. He seemed to be in the middle of a large crater within the middle of a long-forgotten city.

He turned around and saw a young woman smoking a //pipe// a few hundred feet from him atop a number of shipping containers.

The woman looked right back as he smoked but did not make any further movements. It was somewhat hard to look at him, he exuded a hot light that Junior’s eyes avoided.

Junior started to trudge through the soot. From his left, a plume of sediment shot up from the ground. He ran towards it. His intuition was correct as he saw the goblin thief skidding across the dust as he sprinted towards the shipping containers.

“Take out the revolver. It auto-targets whatever you think about. So just think of that green thing’s face or its sack or something.” Duchamp's instructions were a bit unclear, but Junior followed anyway and pulled out the hot pink revolver from his coat pocket.

With both hands hugging the grip, he aimed in the general direction of the creature. He started to think of all his encounters with it from that weird Wild West throwback to the streets of a veil-less New York City. He still wondered why it saved him from death.

But against better judgment he decided to ignore his softening feelings for the goblin. The mere-exposure effect was certainly influencing Junior, but he pushed past those thoughts. His mind wandered to the beginning of the day.

“What was I doing?” Junior thought at first. His mind worked itself. During this whole expedition, he acted as a puppet of Duchamp. Following his instruction, not exerting his own will against the forces of the goblin, Duchamp, or any of the characters he met while on his journey.

One would assume that firing the revolver would be a simple affair. Think of what you want to kill and press the trigger. But a factor of this anomalous object that Duchamp was not aware of was that holding the weapon, ironically, made the wielder think of what he wanted most before firing. Thus, it would kill the user's most desired thing. It acted on the holder’s true will.

Junior, thinking of watches, cars, and other vain objects of pleasure discharged the revolver. The bullet shot out with a great explosion pushing Junior to the ground. But instead of going straight, the bullet turned direction and headed up; the bullet felt unsure where to go.

“Really? Hah…come on man. It takes time for that gun to re-charge. Ugh... Welp, guess I'll have to end the fun here. Castro looks like he's having some trouble, you see.” Duchamp continued to grumble under his breath in an expression of his annoyance in having to get up.

A few seconds later a wooden crane appeared in front of Junior. It began to unfold until there was a flat plane of wood which manifested a door knob.

It swung open to reveal Duchamp with the same attire from their first meeting -- an unbuttoned lab coat with a Hawaiian shirt underneath. Behind him was an ornate room covered with gold and lacquered ornaments, with more than [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-662 | a dozen identical butlers]]] bowing behind him.

He stepped out with ease and plopped his hand on Junior’s head.

“Seriously, I couldn’t find a worse assistant than you.” He said with a laugh.

The door closed behind him and dissipated into nothingness.

Duchamp turned around and held out his right hand. Snapping his fingers, the goblin stopped in its tracks. The creature turned back and ran towards Duchamp and Junior.

Junior looked on with curiosity but nothing more. He was just glad he didn't have to chase after the damn thing anymore.

The creature hopped onto Duchamp, scurrying all over his torso before settling on his right shoulder.

“Wig, please.” Duchamp asked with a smile.

The goblin shoved a hand into its bag and took out Gallagher’s toupée and placed it in Duchamp’s hand. It disappeared as it touched his hand.

“Good boy!” Duchamp scowled. With his other hand, he grabbed the throat of the creature. It gasped and flailed its arms and legs trying to escape.

“Don’t look at my face for a sec, alright.” Junior decided not to listen. He pretended to close his eyes, peeking out through a warily raised eyelid to see what would happen.

As Duchamp tipped down his glasses, Junior felt a whoosh of air run past him. In place of eyes were two miniature mouths. Long tongues emerged and began to lick the goblin. It started to scream as the flexible tongues ripped off swathes of green flesh.

The thief would not be escaping again.

“You can look now,” Duchamp beamed; sunglasses still on. The clothes of the creature sagged on the ground next to its sack. Junior kicked its cloak and felt the rebound of hard bone.

“Hold on. If you could have killed the goblin whenever you wanted to, why didn’t you do it immediately?” Junior was exasperated. He felt angry at Duchamp for wasting his time.

“"Hmm... I don't know actually. See, I had this whole plan to mess around and shit but then Castro kept calling for help, and then there was that Warden thing which, by the way, //really// freaked me out, so I thought I would just call it a day and end the game here. Remember that new pet I mentioned earlier? That was the pet but…” Duchamp continued to talk aimlessly. He rubbed the back of his neck acting like a child in front of an angry parent.

Junior closed his eyes and exhaled.

"Hah... Alright, alright, I don't really care about all that stuff. Just, can I get my reward now?" Sticking true to his character, Junior only cared about his desires and had little interest in greater, convoluted intrigue of the Vice Director.

“Of course, of course. What did you want?” Duchamp declared.

“Money, lots of it. I want enough to buy all the things I want.” Junior spoke with confidence. It was the first time all day he had spirit in his eyes and conviction in his voice.

“That’s no problem at all.” Duchamp moved his fingers in bizarre, erratic movements. He put his hands on Junior’s and flipped him around.

“There you go!” Junior looked as another crane appeared in front of him. It unfurled and another door was created. He opened it and before him was a bewildering sight. A sea of cash as far as the eye could see, sparkling under the light of a golden sky.

“Just call me whenever you want to come back. OH! Could I borrow the gun for a sec, I gotta head back to help out Castro.” Junior handed the revolver to Duchamp and, with his mind full of greedy thoughts, he entered the portal to the world of cash never to be seen again.

Not out of malice by Duchamp, it was simply that Junior’s earpiece broke from the bullet’s recoil and neither noticed. He was never able to call Duchamp.

The door closed and the frame faded. Duchamp opened another portal. Without stepping through, he fired the revolver with one hand. He shouted.

"Next time stop whining and figure it out yourself!"

This portal closed and he opened yet another one. The door opened back near the office of Site Director Gallagher’s office in Site-99. The toupée re-materalized in his hand as he walked through the door, with its frame disappearing after him.

**//[[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dying-in-an-ocean-of-money-was-worth-it/offset/8|Follow the bullet?]]]//**

-----

The woman sitting atop the containers witnessed everything that happened. She took another puff from her pipe and jumped off the shipping crates.

As she hit the ground, her body shifted itself into different appearances at once. She went from a young woman to a stocky man, a child, an old woman, even going through the appearances of Junior and Duchamp. Eventually, it settled on a form not unlike Warden Max.

A radio dish emerged from its head. A voice from beyond spoke to it through the wind of the crater valley.

“Has it failed again, Warden Altieri?”

“Yup,” the Warden responded with unexpected bluntness.

“Well, keep trying. Anything beyond the ordained outcome is anomalous.” The voice waned as it finished.

Warden Altieri took another huff from his pipe. He blew out the tobacco smoke into a ring. As the ring expanded outward and flowed past him, the inner circle flickered and an image of Duchamp drinking a cocktail on a beach emerged.

Warden Altieri ripped off his right arm with his left and threw it to the ground. Another arm shot from the shoulder stump.

The severed arm convulsed erratically and took on a sickly green hue, before compressing itself into a bumpy ball and floating up before its creator. The sphere took on a more defined shape as a humanoid outline emerged from the movements of the flesh.

The tiny creature opened its eyes and looked towards Altieri.

“Follow anything that man says.” Altieri said while pointing his pipe at a parallel Duchamp. A Duchamp from a reality that was almost an exact copy of the one who just left, the only difference being that this one was lagging five hours behind.

The creature jumped into the portal.

She was still searching for the one reality where Junior didn't die on this mission. Altieri didn't know why, but it bothered to go through the hassle of questioning directives.

It was only here to carry out its job as a Warden of the Multiversal Foundation.

Money8

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