Or: How I learned to stop worrying and slaughter the world

Once upon a tiny blue dot in space, there lived a man. A rather ordinary man. Barely even a man, really. More of a boy.

This person was a man known as Drake Long. Five feet eleven inches tall, pale, long haired, fiery tempered, and also a decent fighter.

And on a tangent, Chinese.

Drake himself was an avid fan of many, many things. One of which was a little known website called:

Anything that was on the website, he could either find nigh instantly, or knew by heart. And among all of the terrifying and sometimes humorous objects and entities described on this website, he had one favorite. One entity that he personally felt he resonated with:

A Keter class omnicidal killing machine with a nigh infinite ability to adapt to anything trying to kill it. Including, but not limited to: Artery clogging, industrial cutting lasers, mental takeover, SCP 173, SCP 162, high altitude impact, the sun, SCP 999, a toothbrush that eradicates all organic material in contact with it, what was heavily implied to be God, and more.

Small wonder why Drake had SCP 682 as a favorite.

But that’s beside the point. What is the point, is the fact that Drake had decided to cosplay as a humanized SCP 682. Simple enough; an orange prison outfit, a fake prisoner number, some modifications, a pair of clawed gloves, a wig, some colored contacts, and a fake tail. Easy.

Thus kitted out, Drake went to the San Diego Comic-Con of 20XX.

The day had started normally enough; get to the ‘Con, wander around, purchase things, goggle at the sheer amount of brilliant costumes, feel bad for such a plain costume, be asked about his costume, business as usual.

Then things got odd.

It started with a small prop shop in one of the back corners of the convention center. The shopkeeper was a decidedly unnerving character dressed as SCP 049 and was reading some manga or another.

Pushing it out of his mind, Drake found something that immediately caught his eye: a large sew-on patch shaped like the SCP Foundation’s logo.

“Hey, how much for this patch?” Drake asked, pointing at the aforementioned object.

“Two dollars,” replied the creepy shopkeeper, not looking up from his manga and sounding decidedly bored.

“Hey sweet!” With that, Drake promptly snatched up the patch and retreated to a secluded alcove to sew the rather large patch to the back of his uniform.

And in case you were wondering, he had a sewing kit in the backpack he was wearing.

As soon as he’d sewn on the patch and donned his shirt again, Drake felt a most curious sensation; one that felt like swirling and tingling and poking and stabbing and burning and shocking and drowning and being torn to pieces all at once.

To the rest of the convention, everyone within seeing distance had just seen a random guy rise into the air and explode into a ball of rainbow lightning and fire. That promptly turned and collapsed in on itself.

Planet: Equus. Country: Equestria. City: Canterlot. Location: Anomalous Entity Containment Foundation Site 34.

It was a quiet day at Site 34, thought Head Researcher Twilight Sparkle. Of course, such days usually ended with containment breaches that led to either massive amounts of deaths from the D-classes or spontaneous parties. Normally the latter, but sometimes 173 liked to wander, and she was very clumsy. A deadly combination considering that deadly touch of hers.

“Oi Egghead! Are we gonna go get some flying practice or what?”

AEC 1-RD, Codenamed: Rainbow Dash. An otherwise completely normal P-Type human being, save for the fact she was often observed breaking the sound barrier when average max speed was about two hundred miles. Classified Safe, enough to be allowed to wander around without restraints, though prefers to be in the presence of Head Researcher Sparkle, just like AEC’s 2-6 and recently AEC 77, Sunset Shimmer.

On a side note:

AEC 2-PP is a minor level reality warper, capable of defying the laws of physics in a manner suited solely to comedy. This despite outwardly seeming to be nothing but a normal E-Type human. Classified Safe.

AEC 3-AJ is noted as anomalously strong and at times, anomalously dense. Capable of reinforcing strikes and other such momentum transferring actions via the subconscious manipulation of dark matter. Again, seemingly a normal E-Type human. Also Safe.

AEC 4-FS is a seemingly normal P-Type human, though expresses a potent memetic hazard in the form of her Stare. Incredibly shy, secondary characteristics include the ability to spontaneously induce low level diabetic shock in nearly anyone. Safe.

AEC 5-RT is capable of manifesting a high quality psychiatrist's couch, commonly referred to as a "Fainting Couch", whenever under duress. Also possesses a memetic hazard in the form of incredibly persuasive and painful whining. Is otherwise a standard U-Type human.

AEC 6-SP, an ordinary D-Type human, with the ability to use his Type's standard firebreath as a long range teleportation medium. Appears as an adolescent. Is attracted to AEC 5-RT. A lot.

AEC 77-SS, a U-Type Human with the ability to cross between this world and one without magic, can also shift into a more demonic form when containing enough power. Formerly considered Euclid, shifted to Keter when first transformed, now considered Safe.

“Not right now, Rainbow. I still need to make my rounds. Maybe later.”

“Tch. Egghead. Well, later Twi! I’m going to the gym.”

“Have fun, Rainbow.”

As the rainbow-haired woman left, Head Researcher Sparkle turned away and did her rounds, checking in on each anomalous entity, making sure that each was securely contained. She then made her way to the large courtyard of Site 34, planning on using the area to practice her higher level magic; magic that had gone long unused due to her position.

And then the sky rent itself apart in a blaze of lightning and strange colors, depositing what appeared to be an unconscious feral-class D-Type human.

“AEC med teams! We have a situation in the courtyard! Bring containment field generators too!”

And the alarms started.

Author's Notes:

Oh god what am I doing.