zikekiel

The first thing I felt was confusion.

I slowly opened my eyes, and had to wait for my vision to clear.
Where there had been nothing but blurry objects, the world slowly retook form.

I let out a little groan as I pulled myself to my feet.

Finally I was able to pull my thoughts together, and slowly took in my surroundings. I was wearing what looked like a prison uniform, an orange jump suit with my name and a number sewed on a patch placed on my left breast.

I didn’t recognise the number D-1603A.
Now that I think about it, the last thing I remember was lying down in my bunk bed and closing my eyes, waiting for sleep to take me. I am or was a resident of the High Security Prison in Belmarsh. I was sent there after being found guilty of murdering my wife and two children in cold blood. My pleas of insanity brought about by my PTSD from twenty years in the armed forces was ignored. Guess the powers that be wanted me sent down, illness or not.

I looked around the room I had woken up in.

It was gloomy, the only light source being a bowl of burning incense on a pedestal positioned in the centre of the room. The walls looked like aged sandstone, covered in lichen and moss of various colours.

The air smelt stale, even the incense couldn’t hide that.

Why was I here? Was this just a dream? If it was, it made a change from my wife and children begging to know why

I did it. Their dead, pale faces contorted into a soundless scream. The whispering from all directions.

“Why my love?…..Why?”
“We had everything, we were happy. Why?”

Concentrate. God Damit!

I leaned against one of the walls. I needed to concentrate. I needed to understand what the hell was going on here.

I needed answers.

Think.

Then I remembered. I remembered the man in the grey suit. I was asked if I would like to be interviewed by the man in the grey suit. He was looking for people to give them an offer, an offer that could affect their sentence.

I agreed.

I agreed to see him, I agreed to be interviewed.

I was escorted into an office that had been set aside for the man in grey to use. It was sparse in furniture and decorations. It had a desk in the centre of the room, and a chair on either side. The man in grey was already seated.

“Please take a seat, Mr Johnson”

The man in grey motioned at the empty seat across from him.

I nodded, and pulled the seat out from under the desk. It made short sharp scrapping noise on the tiled surface, which I apologised for. The man smiled, and pulled a file out of a bag that was next to him on the floor.

“Mr Andrew Johnson. Former Sergeant. British Armed Forces, correct?”

I looked at him for couple of seconds, trying to get the measure of him. Then I replied.

“Yes, sir”

He nodded slowly, without ever taking his eyes off me. I had a feeling he was military or at least military trained, but I couldn’t figure out what he would want with a broken man like me.

He spoke again.

“Killed your wife and kids?” he stated in a matter of fact way. I have to admit, this took me back a bit. I was unsure how to reply to such a forward question.

“I did and I am full of….”

The man interrupted.

“My benefactors could get rid of those memories, you would get a good night sleep for once”

“Why would they do that? I am monster. I killed my own children”
“Sometimes this world needs monsters, to fight back against the true monsters”

I was confused. Was this just a figure of speech? Who the hell was this guy, and his “Benefactors”?

“What the fuck is this about?” I demanded.

“I am a killer, nothing you can do will take that away” I said staring at the desk in shame.

The man chuckled and took out some forms from the folder he had placed on the desk earlier.
“Mr Johnson, I am in a position to offer you a chance of a fresh start. A chance of redemption. I work for an organisation that deals with global threats that most governmental institutions couldn’t even begin to manage. We are the watchers that keep the darkness at bay”

I literally had no idea what the hell this guy was on about, but I let him continue.

“Mr Johnson, I am offering you chance to do what you were trained for. My benefactors need people with your skillset. All you have to do is sign here”

He pointed at the form in front of him.

“I am a broken man. I committed my crimes because of my “skillset”

He smiled.

“Mr Johnson, we can fix you. We can make you the best of the best, this is your last shot at redemption. Your chance to put things right”

I asked for pen, and slowly signed the form. It didn’t matter what this guy was really offering. I was already dead to the world.

“Now what?” I asked.

The man in the grey suit took the signed forms and placed back in his bag.
“We’ll send for you when the time is right. You’ll start your training for your new role, once you passed a little initiation ritual we like to do”

“What initiation ritual” I asked sounding more intrigued then I meant to.

“Oh nothing too hard for a man of your skill”

So, is this the initiation I wondered out aloud?

I knew had to let my training kick in. I had to go into survival mode. Even if this wasn’t the “initiation” I still had to escape. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I looked around my surroundings, taking every detail in. I took another look at the walls, nothing special. The room itself was the size of an average living room, and at the far end was a pulley that went up the wall and disappeared into a hole half way up. I made my way to that wall quickly, and examined it more closely. I could make out a slight parting in the brick work that made a rectangular door shape, I pushed my ear against the parting and felt a rush of cool air.

Maybe if I pull the rope it will open the door crystal maze style? I thought.

Maybe that is it. Maybe that is what I signed up for without thinking or even reading what the form said. Maybe I am being watched by millions.

Millions of people pointing at their TV’s laughing at the murderer being made a fool of.

Look at the fool.

Look at him.

The fool.

Concentrate. If they want a show, I’ll give them one.

I grabbed the rope and I pulled. Slowly at first the door shaped wall started to raise, I felt a rush of excitement.

Once the door slab was high enough, I let go. Almost immediately the door started closing.

Very Indian Jones. I quickly rolled out of the room. Unnecessary, but would have looked awesome on the cameras. I pulled myself quickly to my feet. I was standing in a corridor with burning torches bolted to the walls every couple of metres, the end of the corridor was lost in the gloom. I began to walk down the corridor until I got to the end, where I found that it split into a junction.

Was this a maze? What did I read on the internet about getting out of mazes?

The simple way for finding your way out of a maze was to touch the wall with your hand nearest to it, left or right.

Keep that same hand touching the wall and keep walking. This will eventually get you out. Well here goes.

I wasn’t sure how long I was walking for, before I heard it.

A roar in the distances. Something primeval. It sent a shiver through my body.

I picked up the pace, to a fast walk.

It roared again, this time closer.

What the hell is that thing?

Is it the monster the man in the grey suit mentioned?

I started to jog, trying to make more room between me and it.

I jogged into large room, the third one I had seen. Each one had four exits, and in the middle was a fountain, the room was lit by burning torches bolted to the walls.

The monster roared again. Closer again.

I grabbed a handful of water and started extinguishing the torches, casting the room into darkness.

I started to hear heavy footsteps.

Closer. I could hear its heavy breathing.

It let out another deafening roar.

It must have been just a couple of turns away.

Getting closer and closer.

My heart was racing. Should I make a run for it?

Too late.

I moved into the darkest part of the room and knelt down, making myself as small as possible. The monster stepped into the room, the torches from the corridor being the only way I could make it out in the darkness.
It was a huge mountain of muscle. It had the bottom half of a human, and its top half, a bull. The beast was carrying in its heavy set hands, an ornate double bladed axe.

What the fuck was I looking at?

The Minotaur?

This is insane.

The Minotaur is myth.

Yet there it stood in all its insane majesty.

I made a noise. I have no idea what I did. Maybe I moved and made the gravel shift, or breathe out louder then I meant to. Whatever I did, the Minotaur stopped in its tracks and turned slowly to face me. It let out a huff, it was searching the darkness. Thank you darkness my old friend.

I froze. My heart pondering in my ribcage. I felt like my heart would give up any second.

It started moving deeper into the room. Looking left to right, scanning the room for its prey.

I noticed next to my foot a stone. I reached down and slowly picked it up. It was cool to the touch.

This was insane, I was going to throw the stone to distract the creature and run. Just like they do in the movies.

Expect this is real life or is it.

I had no idea anymore.

I throw the stone down the corridor that was opposite to the Minotaur, it bounced down the stone work with a clanking echo. The Minotaur let out a roar and charged towards the noise, shaking the whole room.

This was my chance.

I pulled myself to my feet, and ran.

I made my way down several corridors, I could hear the Minotaur behind me. It had realised its mistake quickly and was in full pursuit. I turned corner after corner, the beast getting closer.

Closer still.

I turned around yet another corner, I had pretty much accepted I was going to get killed. I just hoped that it made it quick, like chopping my head off or something.

Then, at the end of the corridor I saw a rope hanging from a skylight in the ceiling. Was this my salvation?

All bets were off, I had no intention of dying today. I felt a new lease of life, my legs were filled with new found energy as I started to sprint towards the rope. I could hear the Minotaur behind me, it let off a howl of rage, and it too knew that it was running out of time. It began to sprint, shaking the corridor with every step.

I closed the distance between the rope and myself.

I reached out and grabbed it, and with all my strength I pulled myself up into the blinding light.

I could hear voices, and machinery operating.

As my vision adjusted I found myself sat on top of ancient looking sandstone, with engravings written around it. The sandstone floor was within what looked like a large warehouse, with men and women in different uniforms. Some were wearing lab coats and others were in military uniforms. On the far wall was a logo with the letters S.C.P written under it.

S.C.P? What the hell does that mean?

Then a voice I recognised.

“You survived the labyrinth of the Minotaur”

It was the man in the grey suit, except this time he was in a military uniform.

He continued.

“Welcome to Mobile Task Force 46120, AKA the Minotaur’s”

I just sat there in shocked silence.

He smiled.

“It’s a lot to take in, but first we need to fix you”
“Fix me?” I replied.
“Yeah, Don’t worry we’ll make you into a new person”

Epilogue

Dear Sirs,
I must once again raise my concerns about Mobile Task Force 46120.
They continue to use the SCP known as the Labyrinth of the Minotaur as their own personal training facility. As of today, they have sent 43 man and woman of military background into the Labyrinth, in which only 9 have returned.
Surely they can get the same results through other means, without sending man and woman to their deaths in some kind of initiation ritual? I understand that all those selected are criminals of the worse kind, and any that survive have their memories wiped as to better serve the Foundation. I only question the use of these resources, which as D class personnel could be better used elsewhere? I mean do we need a MTF made up of ex-murders.
I look forward to the ethic committee’s opinion on this matter.

Kind regards

Dr [Redacted]