Chapter 9: Weissnacht Event

"Are you winning son?"

A man in a red striped t-shirt and black jeans called out to his 7-year-old who decided not to reply.

The man had a clean shaved chin and a thick moustache that plastered his upper lip. He had pitch-black eyes that reflected all the tragedy he had been through.

The man walked over to his son who was lying on a beanbag, mashing at his controller, trying his hardest to dodge his enemy's incoming attacks.

The son, quite unskilled, lost the game and threw his arms into the air, sighing in frustration. This had been his tenth loss in a row and he had nearly given up on the game until his dad offered to help out.

The father took the controller in his hands and swiftly ran through the entire level. It was quite easy for the man considering his quick reflexes due to years of fighting.

The son stared at the screen in awe, astounded by his dad's skill. The boy looked up to face his father, but all he saw was a man shaking in excitement.

The boy inched away as he saw a crooked smile creep across his father's face. It was awful. The cheerful man he had known for seven years was slowly fading away, being masked by something sinister.

The man slowly turned his head towards his trembling son who was sweating in fear. The father smiled at his son in a way that no father should ever have.

But the father was no longer the father. He was a monster that had been awoken from his deep slumber in hell.

The son got onto his feet and ran towards the kitchen, calling out to his mother in an attempt to grasp back the life he was about to lose.

The son's screams had no effect.

Unfortunately, the mother was laying on the hardwood floor of the master bedroom, her face pushed against the bloody panels. The mother had been silenced and deafened by death itself, and she was of no help to her whimpering child.

The cries continued as the father slowly stalked his son and cornered him. They both locked eyes, and the father could see the fear in his son's eyes, but couldn't recognise the emotion. He was a hunter. He was a stalker. He was a killer.

Another minute passed and the father proceeded to strangle his helpless son, all the while being unaware of his actions.

The son soon passed away and the father regained consciousness. He stood there in silence, taking a moment to recollect what had happened a few moments ago, but nothing came back to him. He turned around, still unaware of his dead son on the hardwood floor and walked back to his room. He shoved open the room door forcefully, trying his best t get to his bed as quickly as he could. He screamed in horror as the light from the room reflected into his eyes and planted the gruesome image of his dead wife into his mind. He fell to the floor as the blood from her smashed in head slowly trickled towards him.

His breathing became heavier as he began to lose consciousness. He felt his body fall to the floor as the heat rose in him. For a few minutes, he felt nothing but pure fear. He was unconscious but at the same time, he was aware of his surroundings. He was cold but also hot. It felt like a layer of thin ice had formed around him and the heat trapped inside was trying its best to get out. But the ice never melted.

The ice finally cracked as thoughts of his son made their way into his mind. The man jolted back to reality and rushed to his son's room. There was no one there.

The man took out his phone and checked the time.

5:40 PM.

Recalling his son's daily routine, the man ran to the living room, hoping to see his son playing his usual games.

But he was met with pure horror. A horror that he had created.

His eyes met his son's lifeless ones. The child's mouth hung open and eyes rolled back into the head.

The man fell to the floor once again wondering why he wasn't taken with them. He still didn't know that he was the one who took them away.

His moment of grieving was snatched away by the alarming sound of his doorbell. The man contemplated whether he should open the door or not. The doorbell rang once again tearing the man away from his thoughts.

The man stood up and grabbed his son's pale, limp body and dragged it under the couch. He was disgusted at himself for coming up with this idea but he proceeded anyway.

On the other side of the door, 3 men with guns at their waists waited for someone inside to open the door to them.

The father finally opened the door only for three bulky men in blue uniforms to barge in. "Sir we have a search warrant for this house and we request your compliance with this situation." One of the men spoke as the rest rushed through the house.

"officer please explain what's happening. Why are you doing this?" the man was afraid they would find the bodies and blame them on him. He regretted putting his son under the couch as that would just make him more suspicious of any crime.

"We were alerted by your neighbours that there were screams coming from your house for the last three days and that they suddenly stopped last night. We've come to check if there were any signs of a struggle or domestic violence." The officer was calm, but the father wasn't. He knew he would be sent to jail now. He knew his life had come to an end.

"This is it." He thought. "I still don't know who killed my family and I'm gonna go to jail for it."

The man fell to the floor for the third time. His end was nearing and it was signalled by one of the officers shouting for another as they found the child hurriedly stuffed under the couch.

He looked down at his hands, wondering why it came to this. Why was his life ruined all of a sudden? What had he done to deserve such an end? What had his family done to get killed in such horrific ways?

These questions would remain unanswered for another 10 minutes.

He was soon handcuffed and forced to get up and walk out of the house he had grown up in. The police officers led him to their car and shoved him inside while they discussed something outside. The father couldn't hear them but he could see the sudden horror that manifested in their eyes.

The man turned around to look at what the officers were seeing. A person in a hood was walking towards them. The only noticeable feature was the beard on the hooded man's chin.

The officers fell to the concrete road as the man made his way towards them. The father leaned towards the window to look at the three officers writhing on the road, their mouths foaming like that of a rabid dig. The man in the car could see the terror in the officer's eyes as they slowly lost their lives.

The hooded man pulled open the car door and grabbed the father by the collar.

The man was thrown onto the road near the 3 dead officers. He turned to face the hooded man in an attempt to get a closer look at his face but he received a kick to his chin that pushed his head back to the floor.

"Was it fun killing your family?" The hooded man spoke softly as the man below him became more confused than he ever had been.

"I killed them?" The man asked and the answer given to him was a strong yes.

Soon the foggy memories of the past 3 days returned and the man began to shiver as he remembered all the horrible things he had done. Tears flowed out of his eyes as he saw the horrified expressions of his family as they were killed by the one they trusted the most.

"Answer me. Was it fun?" the hooded man pressed his ankle against the father's cheekbone.

It was clear to the father that the hooded man was the reason behind the events that had taken place in his house. Or at least he was somehow related to them. If not, then how did he know that the father killed his family?

"Why did you make me do that? How did you make me brutally kill my son and wife? WHY!?" the father had lost it. He did not care for his life anymore, he just wanted answers.

Meanwhile, the hooded man looked uninterested, but he answered the questions anyway.

"I guess this means you didn't enjoy it. What a shame. Killing is really fun. Why doesn't anyone else see that?" the hooded man was crazy. He found joy in ending the life of those around him. A true psychopath.

"And to answer how I did that. It was quite simple actually. I first used the powers of the Staff of Hermes to integrate the DNA of SCP-4666 into you. That slowly turned you into a stalking killer and over the course of the last month. You ended up changing into him just recently which is a problem cos I was hoping it would be faster. Anyways at least you helped me learn where I was wrong."

The father lay silently on the ground. SCP? The staff of Hermes? He had no idea what the hooded man was talking about. These just sounded like made-up things to him.

"What's an SCP?" Asked the father in an attempt to get something out of this conversation.

"Does it matter?" Replied the hooded man. He bent down and looked the father straight in the eyes. The father was looking at a monster. A monster who had given up the slight bit of humanity left inside him.

"You're gonna die anyway, so does it matter? I've said a bit too much and the Insurgency won't allow you to live now. Well on the bright side, at least you'll get to see your wife once again."

The hooded man placed his palm on the father's forehead, his fingers grabbing the balding head. "Let's try out the power of SCP-411." As the man spoke the last word, the father slowly felt his bones shrink. He felt his body shrink too and his hair grow back. He was becoming younger. This de-ageing wasn't accompanied by any physical pain but rather mental torture. He could feel all his memories of his 40s vanish as he entered his 30s. this continued as he reached 7 years old, after which he remembered nothing. He had no memories anymore, just pieces of his first few years scattered across his mind.

The next step was painful and the man lost consciousness as his body reverted back to the first stage of recognizable human life. a foetus. The man, now nothing more than a feeble bundle of flesh, lay on the floor curled up as a baby would be. He was a foetus and without his mother, he would die in the next minute.

The hooded man watched as the foetus moved its arms around in pain until it gave up and lay still on the rough concrete road, never to move again.

"Experiment 007 was successful. All witnesses have been erased. Over." This was the final message the hooded man sent on his walkie-talkie before calling it a day as he walked away from the gruesome crime scene he had created without the slightest bit of remorse.

-x-x-

The next chapter will be about what exactly the Staff of Hermes, SCP-4666, and SCP-411 are. Kinda like an informational booklet but only including those three. anyways I'll probably write that tomorrow, so if you want to know what they are then feel free to look them up. Here are some links

(unfortunately, the Staff of Hermes doesn't have its own page and is part of the chaos insurgency page.

http://www.scpwiki.com/groups-of-interest#toc6

http://www.scpwiki.com/scp-411

http://www.scpwiki.com/scp-4666