”That’s all, folks!”

Link to article: ”That’s all, folks!”.

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**”That’s all, folks!”**
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**Author:** Doctor Scrappy
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[[collapsible show="+ More SCPs by me!"="- hide"]]
|| **[[[SCP-8138]]]** || **--Dead-- Man Walking** ||
|| **[[[SCP-8950]]]** || **Itsy** ||
|| **[[[SCP-8870]]]** || **The Controversy** ||
|| **[[[SCP-8780]]]** || **Detonation Man** ||
|| **[[[SCP-8807]]]** || **SOUP** ||
|| **[[[SCP-8939]]]** || **Urban Horror** ||
[[/collapsible]]

[[collapsible show="+ TALES by me!"="- hide"]]
|| **[[[A Girl that Died.]]]** ||
|| **[[[Bananazilla, Coming to a Store Near YOU!]]]** ||
|| **[[[The Reunion]]]** ||
|| **[[[What You See Is What You Get]]]** ||
|| **[[[walter-the-omniversal-rabbit|Walter, the Omniversal Rabbit]]]** ||
|| **[[[beware-walter-the-omniversal-rabbit|Beware! Walter, the Omniversal Rabbit]]]** ||
|| **[[[Hell Hath No Fury than a Clown Scorned]]]** ||
|| **[[[circus-of-the-disquieting-folie-a-duhh|Circus of the Disquieting: Folie à Duhh]]]** ||

|| **[[[Just Fragments Hub]]]** ||
|| **[[[SCP ORIGINS HUB]]]** ||
[[/collapsible]]

[[include :scp-wiki:info:end]]
[[include :scp-wiki:component:ratio-bar base=--]]

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**VI.**
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Markus remembered the time his son took his service weapon and started to act out a robbery with some of his friends in the backyard. He had reprimanded him severely -- grounded for a week, no access to the television for a month. He remembered that his son would avoid talking to him entirely; that he cried a lot the day he grounded him; his confused face when his all-so-loving father burst out of the backdoor, running at him, the combined anger of a dozen lions visible on his face, his stance.

Markus also remembered how angry he was at his son, not for taking his gun and playing with it, like any six year old would do, but that he was angry how his son didn’t seem to understand. //He’s six years old,// Marla, his lovely wife, would always say. And Markus mostly agreed with that statement -- after all, he himself had done way worse things than what his son ever did at that age.

But another part of him felt only pure, primal rage. He was his son, so he had to listen to him -- //so what was his son being so dramatic for? Hadn’t he already have enough shit to deal with as a police officer in a big city?//

He thought about all of this, memories and feelings of the past, as he raced down Rosecrans Avenue, Hawthorne, California, United States of America.

Eventually his car came to a stop. The tires screeched, that rubbery smell entering Markus’ nostrils, as he stepped out of the car, not even bothering to close the door. People stood in front of his house, people in police uniform.

His wife stood at the house’s front porch. Next to her stood a man, tall, bulky, who turned to look at Markus. From the looks of things, the officer had tried to calm his wife down, but had either given up or didn’t know where to begin. He held his body between Markus and the frontdoor.

”Sir, please, we--” the officer stuttered, trying to evaluate his chances with the obviously bigger man. He just let Markus walk past him. Wife and husband locked each other in a tight embrace, stroking each other’s hair and everything.

When they pulled away from each other to look into the other’s eyes, they could both see tears running down. There was a mutual understanding, silent, almost a psychic connection between them.

Marla was the first one to burst into sobs. Markus just hugged her more tightly.

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**V.**
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Two months. It had been two months since he hadn’t heard his son’s shrill laugh, seen him holding comics in his hands, smelled his awful breath every night he hadn’t brushed his teeth. So long had it been with no trace of his son, no shrivel of evidence who the abductor was, where his son had been kidnapped to.

A passing thought told Markus that Phillip had run off to a family where the father wasn’t so absent all the time. He shook his head to shake the thought away.

”Everything all right?” the partner to his right had asked him. It was Officer Sivan Groeten.

Realizing he had been more in thought than focusing on the road, he grabbed the steering wheel tighter. He eased his grip on it again when he saw Sivan looking at his hands all weirdly.

”Anything from Neng?” That voice belonged to Officer Florim Henderson, who had been sitting in the back. Markus took a moment to breathe.

”He’s bringing his dog with him. Carl-- Chris...”

”Christel,” Sivan articulated correctly.

”Yes, her,” Markus doubled down on it.

There was a sweet, sweet silence in the car. Only the sound of the road, of passing cars and the radio, which Markus also hadn’t noticed was on up until now. He tuned it off, alongside whatever music was playing on the channel.

The car came to a halt soon enough. Markus stepped out of the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind him. His firearm in his holster, armed with a flashlight in the other hand, Markus first took in the sight of the building before them.

The Plaza, a shopping mall, left to rot for over four decades now. It loomed above them like some alien figure, a remnant of the past. The concrete was withered, thick vines having grown alongside many pillars. There was graffiti everywhere, shattered glass panes of store windows once stocked to the brim, now empty and deserted. He could see the mounds of dust already.

”There he is.” Henderson pointed to his right, and there came in Julius Neng. Christel the dog walked beside her owner, eager for whatever they were about to do.

Markus shook Julius’ hand, while the other two gave him welcoming nods. ”Thank you,” Markus said, letting go of his hand.

”Whatever I can do to help,” Julius answered. He lowered himself to eye-level of his dog and caressed her back. The dog stuck her tongue out like it had just been waiting for it.

Markus cleared his throat. ”Okay,” he said. With the click of a button his body-cam was on.

The entrance to the shopping mall stood wide open, like the open maw of a predator. It reminded Markus of his basement, the darkness that prevailed indefinitely in every direction. Like it was about to swallow him whole, leaving nothing behind. It was a silly thought.

”All right,” he said to his team. And all they entered.

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**IV.**
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The mall really was as dusty as it looked; Sivan could barely breathe in here. The place reeked of rot and decay -- trash littered everywhere, leaves from years of passing autumns, and the occasional sleeping bag. Memories seemed to linger in the air, like the stench of something rotten in the fridge. Markus had only a passing interest in this ruin, however; his mind was somewhere else entirely.

”How many squatters you think lived here?” Florim asked.

”You mean still live here?” Sivan’s flashlight darted across the floor, before settling on a red-orange sleeping bag.

”Focus,” Markus began, his mind as vigilant as ever, ”We could find something in here.” There was a growing frustration within him, that little slither of anger that made him play out to grab one of them and punch them in the face so hard they couldn’t tell left from right. They were called in here, due to reports of strange noises, of a possible lead in the clusterfuck that’s been the rising number of missing persons in their god-forsaken city. And one of them was his little boy.

That’s why he almost snapped when he heard what came out of Florim’s mouth next: ”You think one of the homeless did it? Kill those kid—”

Sivan jabbed Florim into his side. He gave out a slight wince, before falling silent immediately afterward. ”Yeah… sorry.”

The dog was of no use also. It smelled fuck-ton nothing. Not even an ounce of anything that might lead them to something, //anything//. Markus’ head spun wildly, the thoughts running rampant in his mind.

//**CLANK.**//

There was a noise in the distance. Something small and metallic. A tin can. Markus aimed his light at the hallways, which stretched out forever in the still-present shadows not being illuminated by any of their flashlights. //There// had been their //something//.

On top of that, just as more confirmation in Markus’ head: ”Christel’s reacting to something, but I don’t know what.”

Before Markus could say another word, a blood-curdling sound echoed down the hallways. His brain needed to process whatever was going on for just a split second, then he started sprinting to wherever those screams came from. //There is still hope.//

He looked back; Sivan was following him, but Florim remained standing. As if his years of being a cop had not prepared him for any of this, he stood there like a sculpture. Paralyzed.

”Get your fucking ass over here, Henderson! Let’s go!” Markus yelled back at him, before he became an unrecognizable silhouette in the distance. But he eventually caught up. His paralyzation was only temporary, as he sprinted alongside the others.

They came to rest in front of a dilapitated clothes store. Markus’ mind tried to find any slithers of memories for when he was a child, when the halls of this place were filled to the brim with life and noise, not dead silence and desolation. The shop looked like everything else they walked past -- run-down, toppled shelves, dust, trash, with the walls and floor peeled of their once bright paint. The ceiling had suffered massively, too; the tiles were missing, and in their spot hung black cables, like nooses.

He looked around the space, finding no possible origin for the noises. Footsteps came to a halt behind him -- Sivan and Florim had finally caught up to him.

”Found… anything…?” Sivan asked, all the while gasping for air. Markus sometimes wondered how he had become a cop.

”Help me search,” was his only response to the question. They couldn’t stop. //Not now.//

So they searched. Beneath shelves, over counters, behind clothes hangers, and piles of discarded jackets and trousers -- nothing. Florim looked to the ceiling, mostly out of curiosity--

Florim’s heart stood still. The blood in his arteries, his veins froze to a solid. Sweat ran down from his forehead to the rest of his body. His limbs were stiff, as if //rigor mortis// had set in, every movement ached. He was gasping for air. None of the others appeared to notice, and Florim witnessed the world around him as a hazy blur.

The other two talked to each other. Like there was nothing wrong at all.

”Don’t you dare start this with me,” Markus said, spiked with a poise in his words.

”—resume this tomorrow!” Sivan nearly yelled in response. Florim didn’t care.

Florim felt the air return to his lungs. With what little there was, he uttered only three words: ”Oh, my God...” Before he screamed. From the bottom of his lungs, he screamed like a madman.

The others turned; he could see the confusion on their faces, the terror in their eyes. He ran. Out of the shop, through the darkness, out of the mall, without another word.

He sometimes wonders if that had been the correct decision.

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**III.**
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There was something uncanny about hearing a fellow officer scream out like a banshee right next to you. At least that is what Markus thought, as he tried to gain his bearings, take a note of his emotions.

He calmed down relatively quickly -- as an officer, one kinda had to. He looked at Sivan, who gave him a reassuring glance, the glance that friends always did. After the exchange of looks, they looked up to find whatever it was that scared the living daylights out of Florim.

They wish they hadn’t.

Above them, up at the tile-less ceiling, the black cables slithered around like tentacles. They moved in a slow fashion, the texture smooth, rubbery, pulsating. But that was not what they were most afraid off: Looking down on them was a single human eye, too large to possibly fit in the hollow space of the ceiling of the shop. Now Markus felt the same paralysis Florim had felt moments prior.

And the eye blinked. It disappeared into the darkness.

The tendrils shot out at them without any noise or warning. Their legs moved quickly to get out of the way of whatever had set its eyes upon them. But Sivan wasn’t quick enough. Out of breath, a bit chubby, one of them grabbed him by the ankle.

Markus stood at the exit of the store -- he had to make a decision. His mind ran rampant, he couldn’t focus straight. His body wanted him to do a hundred things all at once, the adrenaline warm in his blood.

He ran to Sivan, who was holding onto the musty floor with dear life, as the tendrils formed into human arms, and grabbed onto Sivan’s legs and feet. Markus grappled his arms, pulling with such force that the sweat came out like a waterfall, that his muscles began to ache.

Something emerged out of the darkness; something large. Markus couldn’t focus on it, his mind becoming dizzy from all the exertion. But when it neared toward him, he saw what it was: An enlarged upper jaw of a human, with pearl-white, square human teeth, as thick as his head. Sickly gums squeezed out between the teeth so much that they bled.

The jaw moved as if unhinging; which was exactly what it did. In mere seconds, the jaw clasped down on the mid-section of the screaming, wailing Sivan. Markus was yanked back from the lack of resistance; when he looked back on to his friend, what was left was a bloody half. Viscera covered his shoes and pants, the still warm blood soaking into the fabric. A trail was left of where the rest of Sivan had been dragged to, right into the darkness...

A boy came into view. Small, young, his skin paler than the moon. It only took a few seconds for Markus to realize who it was.

//”Daddy?”//

He remembered when Phillip was just a little baby. The first word he ever uttered was the exact same word he was hearing now. Only now it was twisted, an unnatural imitation of his son.

He sprinted away. Away from this horrible nightmare that he only wanted to wake up from. He looked back, with arms that stretched on forever following him. Relentlessly.

He ran for his dear life; he thought about his baby boy, about his wife. How she had looked on the day of their marriage, their first honeymoon. How she had looked upon their son’s birth. How she had looked the day their sun was taken away. He thought all of these thoughts, as his face hit the cold floor of the shopping mall. He turned back to see what he had tripped over; there was the dead body of a dog.

The arms caught up to him. Brief flashes of Sivan’s bisected body flashed before his eyes, sending shivers down his spine, before he pulled out his gun and shot everywhere. It was almost a reflex, pulling out his firearm and aiming it at the oncoming threat. There had been many shootouts in his life -- he had gotten quite good with his aim. But this time was different; his hands were shaking, not as much as one’d expect, but they were. Only every second or third bullet hit its intended target, the arms not relenting at all. //Until they did.//

They retreated back into the shadows. Markus caught his breath, his gun still aimed at the darkness. He felf exhausted, mere seconds feeling like a lifetime.

The flicker of an old radio invaded his sense of hearing. It came from afar, a not at all familiar melody playing in the distance. The only thing louder were the sounds of his own breathing and heartbeat. A thin, tall standing, jet-black, roughly humanoid figure entered his view. It just stood there, doing nothing else.

He aimed his gun at it. It didn’t go off.

He couldn’t quite place a finger on what it looked like to him. He wouldn’t be able to, too. As the entity lunged forward.

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**II.**
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//He was back. Back at the mall. Its all-enveloping darkness drowned out the light of his little torch. He felt like a rat, whose tail was already pinned down by a cat at the other end.//

When he woke up, sweaty and warm in his bed, Florim looked all around his small bedroom. He looked down at his hands, as if making sure he was //here// and not back there. He had these nightmares for weeks now. Regardless of what he did, he’d have them every night.

The bedroom door creaked open. At first he thought that it was his cat, Willow, but he remembered that Willow died a year ago.

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**##red|I.##**
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##crimson|Its teeth dug into the flesh that hadn’t yet been scraped off of the bones. Its claws dug deep into the marrow, so squishy inside.##

##crimson|//”Neng, Neng, Neng...”// it said while feasting on the rotting corpse. It threw away what little was left, its large form obscured by thick shadows.##

##crimson|It gazed up at the moonlight that shone in through the roof of the atrium, just enough to light only fractions of its body. It chattered with its teeth, its eyes going over any direction at once.##

##crimson|It stared ahead of itself, smiling, with bleeding gums and hungry eyes. It whispered:##

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//**[[[SCP-8939|”That’s all, folks!”]]]**//
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//**##transparent|FIN.##**//
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------

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[[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box]]
[[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box-end]]
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”That’s all, folks!”

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