Gor'dun the Consumer

Gor'dun the Consumer sat upon his throne in the Dark Quadrant of the Andromeda Galaxy, shifting his weight to rest his head on his fist. His cosmic, almost impossibly dark face twitched in anguish as his eyes darted across the reaches of space, tracking an asteroid as it gradually descended into a lush, green planet teeming with life. Normally, such an event would bring him amusement, but Gor'dun was stoic; he simply gazed upon it, saying nothing as the tall, yellow creature at his side continued to prattle.

"Your efforts thus far have been admirable, but I ask that you give this matter your full attention," the being demanded, its voice thick with reservation yet assertiveness. Part of Gor'dun admired it for speaking to it in such a flippant manner, ignorant of the danger it was in.

"My lord?"

Finally, Gor'dun broke his stance. His endless, crackling legs extended from the chair, bringing him to the ground as the throne rocked violently. The yellow creature tensed its shoulders and stepped back as the Consumer stepped forth, eyes still fixed on the distant asteroid.

"Yes?" Gor'dun inquired, his voice carrying an impossible power.

The creature trembled. "What are you going to do, if I may ask?"

"Nothing." Gor'dun shifted his weight once more, locking his hands behind his back with his chest puffed out.

"Nothing?" Courage returned to the yellow being. "My lord, the relics are being treated as common science projects. They have disrespected us, our culture, and - "

"Your culture?" Gor'dun interrupted, his eyes meeting the creature's for the first time. "Where did you say you were from, mortal?"

"Kaju."

"Kaju. And what can you tell me of 'culture' on Kaju?"

The question seemed to baffle him. "My lord, I don't understand -"

"Precisely. You understand nothing." Gor'dun grew closer to him, his eyes now mere inches from the face of the petrified alien. "You came to me seeking assistance. Seeking vengeance for 'dishonor' perpetrated against your primitive, revolting excuse of a civilization. Look into my maw, cretin."

As if on cue, Gor'dun extended his jaw, revealing an endless and swirling amalgamation of forgotten planets. Tortured souls screamed from the abyss of Gor'dun's stomach, pleading for death and an end to their infinite torment. Words escaped the yellow being, his face now twisted in an expression of incomprehensible terror.

"I am endless. I am death. I have subjected your kin to an abyssal torture beyond the reach of death, and you have the audacity to demand a petty errand from me?"

It managed to speak in spite of overwhelming, intoxicating fear. "My lord, they have taken-"

"They have taken nothing. I serve only my hunger."

"They have taken Ra'ash, my lord. He is their prisoner."

Ra'ash. Hound of the consumer. In an instant, memories of Gor'dun's conquests with Ra'ash at his side filled his malevolent mind. The Consumer was not without attachment or emotion. He had longed for his beloved pet to return for many eons, yet none of his spies were able to locate him.

"Where? Where is he?!" Gor'dun's voice became more demanding, echoing through the endless carpet of stars.

"This is why I have come to you. Ra'ash is on Earth, locked in a cell along with our relics."

"Earth. Pathetic excuse of a planet." Gor'dun swept his hand across the void, bringing an image of Earth into view. "What resides on Earth?"

"One intelligent species. They are responsible for stealing our relics - for stealing Ra'ash."

"Yes. The humans, they call themselves." Gor'dun again swept his hand, bringing a diagram of a nude man before his swirling black eyes. "Are they powerful?"

"In general, no." The yellow creature drew a sheet of paper from his suit. "However, there is one group of note. They possess technology and knowledge far exceeding that held by any other group of humans."

"And this group…they hold Ra'ash?"

"Yes, my lord."

"You will have three star cycles to retrieve your relics before I act. This group you speak of - could they pose a threat?" His tone implied he knew the answer already.

"In theory, yes. They have failsafes - contingency plans. We believe they have limited control over reality, based on data from our spies."

A grin stretched across his face. "Then they must be obliterated. I will see to it. Thank you, messenger of Kaju."

As the yellow creature bowed and began to walk away, Gor'dun raised his hand to stop him.

"Tell me…what do they call this group?"

He turned to face The Consumer, hesitating to speak for a few moments. Finally, the words came to him.

"The Foundation."

The alien, clinical words brought a rare gaze of bewilderment forth from Gor'dun the Consumer as he watched the messenger depart his throne room. He smirked before returning to his seat, eyes trained on the still active image of Earth floating in front of him.

"Hey, I know this question is probably meaningless, but what in the fuck are you doing?"

Two men in lab coats stopped to face the source of the voice, their hands clenching the handles of a sealed metal box. They scoffed and began to speak in annoyed, preppy tones.

"Taking SCP-6901 to temporary holding. You'd know this if you actually read the emails."

"I do read the emails, Johnson." Doctor O'Connor lowered his head, eyes scanning Johnson's nametag. "If anyone can't read, it's you."

Johnson's friend spoke first. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I think I'm the project supervisor for SCP-6901. And I think you are blatantly disrespecting a superior. Wanna know what else I think?"

Any sense of superiority vanished from the men's faces.

"I think you're getting reprimanded if you ever speak to me in that insulting tone again."

Silence grew like a cancer through the hallway.

"What? Lighten up. You guys look like you've never heard a joke before. Christ." O'Connor chuckled. "Finish whatever it was you were doing, and do your best not to fuck it up, yeah?"

The two men simply nodded as they proceeded down the hall. O'Connor giggled to himself as they turned the corner out of sight.

"You can be a real ass, you know that?"

Jessica approached him, her makeup-coated face stretched into a smirk.

"Yeah, but I'm a funny ass."

She exhaled through her nose, amused. "I suppose that's the best kind of ass."

"What are you doing here? I thought you were on 8610 duty."

"I was." Her body shifted towards SCP-8610's containment chamber, two doors down the hall. "Then I realized it was a piece of paper in a cardboard box and got myself a cup of coffee."

"Well, I'm glad the world can rest easy knowing the only thing between normalcy and utter chaos is some chick with an espresso."

"Hey, easy." She playfully punched his shoulder. "And it's a fucking macchiato. Learn some culture."

He said nothing, only softly laughing to himself as he looked in her eyes.

Damn, I miss her, he said internally.

"Don't do that."

His smile vanished. "Don't do what?"

"That. I've seen that look before, O'Connor."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." He lied. His eyes, however, could not.

"Right. Well, I better get back to work before you get all sentimental on me." She began to walk away, heels clattering on the floor with every step. "Oh, and don't be such a douchebag to the kids."

"No promises."

And, before he even realized it, Jessica was gone again. O'Connor buried the rapidly rising thoughts of Jessica and turned to return to his office, eyes somewhat glazed as painful memories played in his mind. Only when his hand turned the knob did they finally dissipate, his eyes bouncing back and forth across each piece of trash littering his desk.

What a shithole. He lowered himself into his chair and typed a command into his terminal, the screen flickering to life with a comforting green glow. He typed another command, bringing a clinical document into view.

Words began to filter into his mind. Highly dangerous. Predatory. Unknown origin. He skimmed several paragraphs before he caught something, rereading it several times as he attempted to process it.

All of the addenda were redacted.

O'Connor had read many heavily redacted documents, but not to this extent before. It was abnormal - there was nothing particularly intriguing about the item, yet practically all of the information available about it was restricted. Thoughts raced through his mind as his eyes stumbled upon a single word, burning it into his mind.

Ra'ash.

O'Connor uttered the word with a vague sense of familiarity, baffled as to the significance of it as he shut down his terminal and departed the office for the final time that evening. As he turned the corner into the employee parking lot, his pupils snapped to view the two researchers from before, struggling to maintain their grips on the now violently shaking box. An uncomfortable possibility slithered its way into his mind before he extinguished it and stepped inside his car.

He had only been driving for twenty minutes when he received notice of the containment breach.