That One Time the Foundation dropped a Bösendorfer Model 290 Imperial Piano onto a Giant Lizard (or on How to B-Flat)

Link to article: That One Time the Foundation dropped a Bösendorfer Model 290 Imperial Piano onto a Giant Lizard (or on How to B-Flat).
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**That One Time the Foundation dropped a Bösendorfer Model 290 Imperial Piano onto a Giant Reptile (or on How to B-Flat)**

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**Author:** Doctor Scrappy
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> -----
> **Item:** Bösendorfer Model 290 Imperial Piano
> 
> **Tissue Test Record:** N/A
> 
> **Termination Test Record:**

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"Don't B-flat."

"If you make another pun, I swear I'll right-hook you in the face."

"What's the problem?"

"This is destined for absolute failure."

Dr. Redacted said. They stared out onto the massive space of a containment cell, which roof was opening up to reveal some much needed sunlight in. They couldn't remember when the last time was that that beast that was lurking in there had even seen the sun.

"Don't be such a bigot," their partner, Dr. Expunged, voiced out. "You've got any better ideas?"

"Yes," Dr. Redacted replied. Their arms were crossed. This whole operation seemed like some sort of elaborate joke that they weren't in on. As assistant director of operations on this project he oversaw everything; and now that the Council was approving an experiment of such utter insanity and stupidity, Dr. Redacted questioned how this organization had prevailed as long as it had.

"You gotta admit -- it's creative."

Dr. Redacted's hands tensed up at Expunged's remark. "Are you enjoying yourself right now?"

Dr. Expunged smiled. "I mean, hey. Anything to get some smiles around here. Can't remember the last time I did that. Can you believe that?"

Redacted just sighed. They knew that further conversing with Expunged would only heighten their own rage and hatred. They could feel the veins in their head pulsating against their forehead, their hands clutching tightly onto their arms. There was also this sense of horror; that, if anything were to go wrong, a horrible monstrosity would be unleashed and murder dozens of people.

The intercom crackled to life.

"Equipment set up. Requesting permission to proceed."

Redacted shuffled Expunged away to get to the console. They pressed down on a button and spoke into a microphone. They felt stupid.

"Acknowledged. You may proceed." Dr. Redacted lifted their finger off the button. They stepped away from the observation window, for even though their room was several meters above the floor of the beast's cell, there was still this sense of horror present. Dr. Expunged did not feel afraid, or at least they were good at hiding it; their face was basically pressed up against the glass, eyes wide.

The intercom crackled to life again. "Lowering acid solution from chamber."

With that, the sickly yellow-ish liquid of vile and death sank to a depth that would normally have already triggered the built-in sensors. There was much caution to be exercised with this monstrosity, for every mistake could lead to certain death.

As the hydrochloric acid was lowered, the back of the beast became visible. Vomit-green scales adorned its back, all tattered and torn open to reveal the crimson, mushy flesh underneath. More of the beast became visible; its elongated head, ending in massive, bone-shattering jaws and a giant snout; a tail as long and muscular as one would imagine for such a creature; and the webbed hands and feet, which looked oddly tiny in comparison with the hunk of flesh that was [[[SCP-682|682]]].

The beast looked all over its surroundings, apparently having been awoken from a deep slumber, and blinked several times. It looked dazed -- as much as a reptile's face could express emotion -- and turned its head away from the sunlight. The beast gave off a low guttural sound.

Dr. Expunged looked in awe at the display. Seeing the creature was always a highlight for them -- like some child-like wonder being reignited within oneself after first seeing a dragon on a TV or theater screen. Dr. Redacted cleared their throat once to detail Expunged's blatant show of unprofessionalism. They cleared their throat twice when Expunged seemingly didn't hear it the first time. And a third time. Redacted gave up.

Up from far above, there was a large shadow being cast onto the entire ground of the cell. It looked almost like some sort of monster, much like 682 itself -- its shape was irregular, inhuman. There were a few recognizable features, but, if one did not pick up on them, it would have been the greatest nightmare any person could have conjured up from the depths of their minds. The beast certainly did think so -- at least, until whatever was casting the shadow fully came into view above the open roof.

Dr. Redacted pressed down on a button. "Everything is properly set up. Release Bösendorfer Model 290 Imperial piano from crane onto SCP-682 in three... two... and //one//."

Before the reptile had any time to process what the Foundation was planning on doing now, the winch to the cable holding the Bösendorfer Model 290 Imperial piano -- first constructed in 1909 by a man of Ferruccio Busoni -- unleashed itself in all its 2.90 × 1.75 meter, all Bavarian spruce tonewood, 97 keys glory.

The piano came down on the monstrosity with a resounding melody of wood shattering, keys flying into the air and the sounds of dissonant musical notes.

Doctors Redacted and Expunged looked onto the scene. Expunged with wide eyes, mouth agape, generally speechless. While Redacted was more resigned and stared at the beast a while longer.

SCP-682 squirmed underneath the shattered remains of the Bösendorfer Model 290 Imperial piano. Splinters of wood had dug themselves deeply into the scales and muscles of the creature; mechanical components had pierced its limbs and tail; and the creature's back and ribcage had completely caved-in from the force of the impact. Bones were protruding. Blood was gushing out from everywhere on the creature's body. But most terrific of all were the howls and screams of the creature, unlike any terrestrial creature could ever muster up of producing.

Dr. Redacted rubbed their forehead. They walked back toward the console button. "Termination attempt deemed a failure. Experiment abort." //What a surprise. Why waste time and resources on this? Had the Foundation truly become mad?// All of their confusion and anger was building up.

Their partner clasped their hands together. "Well... 682 isn't going on a rampage any time soon. All the better for it. I hadn't really planned to become human tomato soup for a giant reptile this afternoon. Hey, at least we can still C-sharp."

Dr. Redacted glared at Dr. Expunged. That rage, that hatred, that //tense feeling// in his hands -- it was resurfacing. Expunged didn't pick up on it at all.

"See? What did I tell ya'? This experiment was only A-minor incon--"

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> Bösendorfer Model 290 Imperial piano is dropped onto SCP-682 from a height of one kilometer. Massive physical damage is dealt upon SCP-682. SCP-682 vocalizes loudly.
> 
> **Notes:** //All staff involved in this [[[experiment-log-t-98816-oc108-682|experiment]]] have been severely reprimanded. - O5-//██
> -----

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+ [[[Kill 682]]]

**Published:** 08/03/2010

//"[...] after killing 792 guards on his way out, he stole a car and went on an alcoholic bender across two states."//

By [[*user Sorts]]
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