Invincible Part One

Invincible, Part One - By AlexanderOrmsby/Anonomou.
SCP-682 x Character.
Currently safe for work, though that may not remain the fact.
Please read at your own discretion.


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Knife fighting a barely-clothed monster woman was not what Declan had assumed his death was going to go.
Compared to the pocket-knife he was defending himself with, the machete-like implement clutched between her claws looked like it could cut him in half.
"Come on, D-boy! You gonna give me a proper fight or what?"
Her voice rattled like like an aging motorcar, a reptilian growl undertoning each word.
He couldn't see her eyes under the mossy-green leathery drape of skin that covered her head and back. Between the gaps of her torn robes, he caught glimpses of her midnight-toned skin,
It was clear that this thing wasn't human - and yet, subtle traces made him think otherwise. From the sneering expression on her reptilian jaws, to the bipedal stance, to the *curves*-
Her fist flew forward, knocking him back against the bricked wall of the abandoned factory. The knife dug into the wall beside him, sticking into the solid brick like it was made of butter.
"Ah hah hah! Looks like I win, didn't have to cut you up in the process."
Rubbing at his bruised stomach, he struggled to pull himself up. Fuck, he could fight off a crazed drifter, but when it came to this *thing*, it was inhuman.
Even as his legs struggled to hold him up, he spat a curse towards the thing.
"Fuck off. I've had this place as my place for months. Shouldn't you be in the goddamn sewer or something?"
With an amused chuckle, the monster simply picked him up by the collar of his jacket, lifting him to face-level.
"You look like shit, D-boy. Shouldn't you be in a ditch or something?"
She laughed again. He thrust his knife into her throat.
There was a paused as dark droplets of blood spurted forth, dribbling down from her chin.
Then, as casually as flicking a bug from her clothes, she plucked the knife with two fingers, clattering it to the ground on the side.
"You've got balls, loser. I dig that."
His face covered with flecks of her blood, he continued to writhe around in her grip unphased by her seeming invulnerability. Staring at her head with impotent rage, he shouted.
"You gonna eat me or what? Stop screwing with me and just get it over with!"
She dropped him onto the ground, prompting a grunt as Declan rubbed at his rear.
"*Fuck* no, did you think someone like you was going to taste good? Sure, I may be able to eat a lot of things, but you normal folk are just so *mundane*."
Her fingers ran through his hair condescendingly, like she was patting a child on the head.
Declan shuffled to the side to avoid her grip, staring at her with a distinct apprehension.
Breaking the tension, the monster extended a meaty hand, the claws tipping each finger sharp enough to tear flesh. He hesitantly reached out, his hand engulfed by the monster's palm.
"Call me 682. Dunno if I've got other names, but that's what comes to mind."
She rolled up a sleeve of her tattered ensemble, revealing a strange, barcode-esque tattoo seared into her stony pelt. Some elements of the design reminded him of a QR code, but ultimately it seemed an alien symbol. But beneath that strange skin of hers, all Declan could think about was her sheer *strength*, the likes of which could seemingly bend girders in half.
He responded in kind, adjusting the beanie atop his blackened, sooty hair.
"Declan. But you seem to already know my name, don't you?"
682 paused, as if she was blinking in confusion under her pelt. Then, she cracked up, laughing without hesitation.
"Ha~! Your NAME starts with a D? I only called you D-boy because where I come from, that's what they call all the dead beat cannon fodders!"
Cackles echoed off of the factory walls, petering off as she slowly came to a stop, her glee unrequited. A hand reached back behind her head, scratching the back of her scalp.
The two of them sat awkwardly without a word, neither sure quite how to start a conversation.
"So uh, you seen any good movies recently? You've got quite the collection, I'll say."
A gesture was made towards the pile of tapes and discs that were piled up on one side of the room, prompting Declan to stand up and pick one up. In the corner, a projector and a VCR player sat on the ground, hooked up to a small generator. It had taken him two weeks to get the thing fixed right, but it was a godsend - being able to play tapes and DVDs made passing the time much easier.
"Oh, this? It gets boring in here, but the electricity still works in some placed. So I rigged a projector together and watch things on the walls."
He heard a snort behind him, turning to see a small jet of warm vapour drift into the air. 682 had already parked herself against the dingy seats that he had cobbled together on the other end of the room.
"Damn, now that's some nice work. Mind if I pick one? Haven't gotten to see one in ages..."
Lumbering over to the pile, she flicked through the collection with precision, navigating through the stack within seconds. Then, tossing a tape up and catching it with nimble showmanship, she waggled it towards Declan with a knowing, toothy grin. Tossing it through the air, they continued to converse as Declan inserted the tape into the player.
"They have films where you're from?"
"...Yeah, let's say that. Don't get to see these often nowadays, 'cause of my fabulous looks."
The projector hummed to life, casting light onto the grey-bricked walls of the doorless room that they were in. Crackles and blips came from the player, a reminder that the boundary between fact and fiction was thinner than ever.
It was funny. First friend he made in ages; a giant monster woman with a penchant for film just like him.
But as he sat himself down next to her strange, *living* warmth, it reminded him so much of the things he missed back when he still had friends, when he hadn't been alone. Declan closed his eyes, seeing memories of firelight, camps in the woods, and forgotten friends.
Beep.... beep..... bing!
The movie began to play, and he reclined against the cushioned seat... next to a new friend.


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From that day forward, Declan found that his daily routine was never quite the same, even though he was taking the same actions.

Each time he returned from town with supplies for himself, he always found her hidden away somewhere. An impressive feat, for someone who stood twice as tall as him. He found that, in the days when he simply stayed at the factory, unwilling to return to civilisation, she would simply vanish for hours on end before reappearing from whichever place she had first discovered the factory from.
The few, faint experiences that he shared with her when they talked about meaningless things or watched films together often gave way to feelings of doubt and apprehension. Who could blame him, sharing a room with something so *close* to humanity, yet so far?
She was big.
She was covered in scales.
She was literally unkillable, from what he could tell.
Yet, 682 didn't hold herself like a monster would.
Once, he found her *crushing rubble with her bare hands*, brushing the dust off her claws as he walked in. He never quite commented on it - she never pried into his business, outside of their shared interest in films, and he didn't question her too much. He simply gave her a wave, reclining into a corner as he scribbled notes onto stained paper, plotting, waiting. 682 would then, disappear off into the shadows of the drab factory elsewhere, doing who-knows-what.
Was it fear, that she would kill him if he asked something he shouldn't have? Was it because he just didn't like people, especially those who intruded on the place he had thought sacred to himself? It occurred to him that he never really interacts with 682 outside of their nightly movie sessions, which seemed to grow increasingly sparse as they neared the bottom of the pile - the second time they've watched through the entire pile. It wasn't like he could get new films often, with the spare cash he had on hand.
It wasn't like he could just ask her to leave, either. An oblique opinion bubbled forth from his resentment.
It was *his* place, and she was the intruder who had encroached on his space.

He just wasn't sure if he would prefer being dead over being alone.
But it's fine, some part of his brain tried to rationalise. She's minding her own business and she hasn't tried to eat you. Isn't that all you can really ask for?
Declan shook his head, burying his face into his palms. What he asked for was to be undisturbed.
But what even was her story, why did she exist? Surely someone on the news would have heard?
This world was going to shit, it wasn't his problem to worry.
A scent of cement power filled the air as the tell-tale creaks echoed off the wall, indicating 682's arrival.
"Hey, D-boy! What's this tape? I haven't seen this in the movie pile - it's got a whole different look to it."
He tilted his head up, staring at the monstrous woman standing in front of him, dangling a single tape in a clawed finger.
For a moment, he didn't realise that he was shaking. That tape. *That tape*.
*Nobody could know about that tape. *
"Give that back. *Now*."
His knuckles tightened, pursing his lips. But could he even get it off of the monstrosity before him? His fingers slipped through the air as he grabbed at the tape, the end of her jagged tail sweeping his legs under him.
"Hah, what is it? A porno? Fuck no, I'm watching through it."
She *whistled* to herself as she sauntered towards the player with impunity, Declan groaning as he tried to pull himself off the ground.
The projector hummed to life immediately, a blurry form of static casted onto the walls like a Rorscach splatter.
He didn't bother to run for the tape player - not when she stood there, an impenetrable stone sentinel who could push him away with ease.
682 opened her mouth to quip, but the image shifted, cutting to black and white camera footage.
There was no sound, no narration. Like a old cartoon, the scene unfolded - a young man and a woman, recorded by a security camera.
He could do nothing but stare, enraptured by the footage.
There were stutters, blips in the tape as the VCR struggled to read it, as if there was something interfering with the playback. With reality itself skipping over and over, the figures moved and turned, talking wordlessly in the back of a store's parking lot.
Another stutter, and the pair were a breath apart from each other, standing uncomfortably close.
A thrust.
The woman jolted, gasping with inaudible shock.
She crumpled to the ground with a poool of inky-black forming beneath her, the colour absent from the recording.
Finally, as the clouds of distortion grew, the man turned to face the camera. Even in the monochrome, it was obvious: it was his angular features.

The tape faded back to static, leaving the pair sitting in a haze once more.
Declan spoke - the bags beneath his eyes felt like they ran deeper than ever as he pronounced each word, an explanation he had mentally rehearsed in his mind for months.
"I don't remember the night it had happened. But when I woke up, the knife and the tape were at my desk. I don't know if this is the only copy of the tape, or whether they know I did it or not. But, I killed that girl."
Declan buried his face into his hands, staring at the old flooring through the gaps between his fingers.
"Why didn't you destroy this?"
"So I would always know what I did. When I snuck out to look, the police were already at the store, and her body was being carried off."
682 slowly sat herself beside him, a faint expression of sympathy delivered through a subtle frown. Even with her eyes hidden from view, she looked gentle - almost human.
"You know... I killed people as well, not willingly."
She exhaled, her breath visible in the cool air of the abandoned factory.
"But it's *okay* for you to kill people. You're a monster."
"I didn't *want* to. That makes all the difference. Did you ever want to kill someone like that?"
He shook his head. No, never.
"They starved me in a cell for months, Declan. When they threw those people in, there was nothing I could do."
"Who were they?"
"Men in white coats. I never really heard much from them, but I got my name from them. That was all they ever called me by."
The barcode-like tattoo engraved onto her skin called attention to itself, as they sat beside the empty light of the projector.
He didn't have long to think on her history before she interjected once again.
"Besides, why the hell do you think that you did it? Doesn't it seem suspicious to you, that you woke up without any memory of the previous day with a tape of a murder and a weapon just lying on the desk?"
The amount of passion in her voice was surprising - where was the sultry, inconsiderate reptile from minutes ago?
"Why are you trying to convince me? It's obvious that I killed her, even if I don't remember-"
His face stung - bringing a hand up to touch his tenderised cheek. 682 flexed her fingers, glowering with contempt.
"Tch. Dumbass. You didn't try to verify? The fuck have you been doing here all these months when you could have been looking?"
She clamped a hand acround his shoulder, digging claws into his thick clothing.
"You and I? We'll do some searching. Anyone tries to fuck with us, I'll give them a scare."
He grimaced, an incredulous look on his face.
"I'm sure that you'd just draw more attention to yourself that way. I hope you're not planning on becoming this town's cryptid."
Her laughs echoed off into the distance, giving his shoulder a playful squeeze, unrelenting in her grip.
He reached up to pull her hand off, but hesitated.
Maybe it was okay to have someone who knew - especially if that someone is the sort that nobody could ever talk to, not normally.
The two of them sat there in thoughtful silence, a secret shared between confidants. A secret shared with someone, something that shouldn't have existed in the first place.


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