The Black God | SCP-6198 [Part 2]
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00:33I only know this now that the black liquid, the life tea, as they call it,has wiped the memory-blocking substance from my brain.I now know that I have no sisters and no nephews back in the world.These false memories were implanted in me,while the amnestics blocked me from accessing my real memories.My siblings are here in this village.My parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles are all here.and for the last three months
01:00they've been nursing me back to healthwhile teaching me their language.It turns out, I'm a fast learner of this particular language,probably because I was brought up speaking it and English.Of course, they don't know that.They think it's only because I'm one of themthat I've picked up the language so fast.Once it was clear I could understand them,
01:21they told me the story of my kidnapping again and again.When the bloodline needs to be refreshedto prevent birth defects from inbreeding.Men from my village go out into the worldand procure women who are used for breeding.They glazed over their selection processwhile telling me this story,but I know what involves finding women
01:42who are of pure Slavic descent.During one pilgrimage, 26 years ago,they came back with three women to be used as breedersand then sacrificed to Chernobogwhen their prime breeding years were over.But one of these women managed to get loose,During her escape, she stole me from my nursery and made off into the woods.I wasn't seen again until now.
02:06This is why drinking the life tea didn't kill me, they've eagerly explained.Only those who have been blessed by the black god can drink the tea and live.Chernobog blesses every child born in this village.In the last three months, I've heard some version of this story dozens of times.But I don't tell them the story of how a man, who I now know was,my great-uncle, hesitated when he had the chance to kill me with a boulder to the head.I don't tell them how I used his fatal hesitation to shoot him dead. He must have recognized somethingin my face. I admit, my features are strikingly similar to those of everyone else in this village.
02:45Even without these similarities, I know what they say is true. This village is my home. Although I wastaken as a baby and therefore have no memory of it, I was never allowed to forget where I can.came from. At least not until the time came for them to inject me with amnestics. Then it wasvital that I forget. My mother, a thin and bow-legged woman with gray eyes, has spent the mosttime tending to me. She speaks to me about bringing more glory to her house. I had an older brother,who died in the skirmish with the foundation agents when I was captured. Although she grows misty-eyedwhen she speaks of him, it's also impossible to overlook the pride in her voice.To die defending Chernobog is a great honor.
03:31She tells me she's blessed to have another son suddenly,a son who can go out and procure human sacrifices for Chernobog,which is something he demands once every month.I also have a younger sister who has done her partby having her first child at 15.Since then, she has born a total of six children.She's 22 years old.My father, who is stoic, bearded, and quiet, has given me no reason to feel unwelcome.
04:01But there's a coldness in his eyes whenever we're in the same room.I understand the feeling.These people are strangers to me, and I, to them.Not that it matters anyway, because I've finally healed enough to do what I've come here to do.The mass grave is in a cave not far from the village.Although I have an idea of how many people they have killed, at least to a month for centuries,nothing prepares me for actually stepping foot inside the cavern.Even before I light the lantern I've brought, the stench bombards me.
04:37The putrescent reek is like a physical thing, tentacles invading me more with each inhale.My mouth starts watering in preparation for vomiting.Cold sweat breaks out on my skin.I breathe through my mouth, but it's not much better.Better. Still, I move a few feet deeper into the cave mouth, crouching because the ceilingis so low. When I'm sure the illumination from my lantern won't be seen from outside,I light it with a match. As the tunnel continues, it gradually opens up, soon allowingme to stand. Insects buzz all around me in increasing numbers as I move forward. I realize
05:15there flies. As I step out of the tunnel and into the cathedral-like cavern that containsthe bodies of the sacrificed, the buzz of thousands of flies resonates in my chest. The cavernstretches out before me, too big for my light to reach the far wall. The floor is covered in pilesof corpses, all those who weren't forced to drink the black liquid as part of the ritual.They're in various states of decay, with the most recent victims nearest. I've been here for what Iassume is five months, but I've only experienced four rituals in person, the first of whichI was an unwilling participant. During the last three, I've been an onlooker,stepping up with the others to drink the life tea when it's my turn. So as I stare at the nearest
06:02corpses, I recognize them all. Beyond them are all the foundation members who were eitherkilled in the skirmish or sacrificed on what the villagers call the black throne. They're toodecomposed for the flies to mess with, which is a small mercy. The stench is so overoverpowering here and the visuals so disturbing, I can't control myself any longer. I whip to theside and puk the contents of my stomach out, only realizing I'm vomiting on a dead body when it's toolate. When I'm done and my nostrils are clogged with snot and bits of half-digested food,the stench isn't as overpowering. Lantern in hand, I step from the rocky ground to thecarpet of corpses. Beneath the most recent ones, I can see the remains.
06:50of past sacrifices.Skin, leathery, and eyeballs shriveled.Grinning mutilated skulls peer up at me here and therefrom beneath the top layer.It's hard going, as the bonesand what remains of the flesh shift under my feet.I try not to step on those who still have faces.It seems better to step on skulls and bones
07:10instead of those with flesh that's still decomposing.When I reach a dead man in a foundation uniform,I crouch next to him.Although his face has been collapsed, what's left of his skin has gone moistureless and leathery.It has retracted, revealing his still intact teeth.I take off his vest and then pull his shirt up, revealing a shrunken abdomen with skin stretched across,like a poorly made primitive drum.I have no weapon, and the man's knife sheath is empty.
07:42So I search around for a moment before selecting a leg bone that has been broken to a sharp point.I use the bone to pierce the stretched skin over his stomach.Then, I stick my hand inside and root around for something hard and metal.It takes me a few long moments, but I find it and pull it out.The capped pipe is still intact.I put it in a pocket of my simple trousers,and then turn to the next foundation agent and start the whole process over again.Several hours later, I've gathered all the small pipes I can find.
08:15It has to be enough.They clink against each other in my pockets as I trudge back over the bodies,sharp bones still in one hand, lantern in the other.I'm covered in putrid decomposition juices and blood.The stench clings to me like a parasite, determined to suck my life force out,but I'm one step closer.Stopping at the same place I lit it, I now blow the lantern out.Then I move out of the cave, emerging from the tunnel into the woods.
08:44I pause at my stash of supplies nearby.hidden under a large rock and proceed to change out of my soiled clothes.Once again, I transfer the capped pipes into my clean trousers.Tomorrow we'll have another ritual, which means I need to do this now, tonight.I won't have another chance, not until next month.And I can't wait that long.I can't watch any more innocent people die.I creep through the dark woods until I have the throne and tub in view.
09:14pausing behind a thick bush, I peer around, looking for Chernobog or any guards.I know there's at least one sentinel who patrols the village at night, so I wait, staying low,until I see one pass by and out of sight.Staying where I am, I wait for the guard to come back around again,so I can get an idea of the time I'll have to do what I need to do.When he's gone again, I ready myself.I don't know where Chernobyl goes when he's not hanging around for a ritual.Maybe the priest does, but I don't, and neither do my parents.
09:49I'll just have to take the chance.Leaving the unlit lantern behind the bush, but taking the sharpened bone, I emerge from my hiding place.My heart crashes against my ribs as I sneak up to the tub, moving gingerly to keep the rattling noise to a minimum.When I reach the tub, I kneel, put the sharp bone down between my knees, and pull one container out.Getting the cap off isn't as easy as unscrewing it.If that were the case, the villagers surely would have figured out what they were.Gripping either cap in my fingers, I pushed them together,turning them in opposite directions until I feel one of them click.
10:26That's the one that's supposed to unscrew.I keep at it until it clicks twice more,at which point I stop and then reverse the direction until the cap clicks once.Now I unscrew the top like a normal cap,and then dump the powder contents into the tub.I repeat this for several minutes,counting the seconds in my head the whole time.I've emptied about three quarters of the containers
10:49when the clock in my head tells meit's nearing the time for the guard to come back around.I grabbed the sharp bone, head back out to my bush,and lie low until I see him pass again.When he's out of sight, I sneak back to the tuband resume the process of dumping the powder into the tub.It's the color and texture of ash,and it disappears as soon as it hits the liquid,
11:11dissolving swiftly.As I work, I wonder whether the other members of my platoon knew that they had these little items implanted in their abdomens,or whether they had been made to forget with amnestics like me.Ziegler, a foundation Bigwig, and my surrogate father, assured me that this was plan B.If the ambush works, we won't have to resort to such barbaric measures.But if it fails, then you will be the only hope of stopping this madness.Do they know that they have those containers in them?I asked. We were sitting next to each other in his office, lounging in the two guest chairs in front of his desk.
11:48Ziegler pinched his chin between his thumb and the side of his curled index finger, his salt and pepperstubble, crackling under the digits. It was something he did when I asked him a hard question,for one he didn't want to answer. Fixing me with pale green eyes, he said,do they know that if they die in the course of duty, their deaths won't be in vain? Of course they know that.It's part of the oath we all take to the foundation.Now, let's go over it again from the start.When they force you to drink,what if they put me on the throne instead of in the tub?
12:19I interrupted.You've been blessed by Chernobog, Ziegler assured me.No amount of time away from the village will change that.If they put you on the throne,the black god's blessing will protect you from harm.Either the killing tools won't fail,or when they do, they won't hit you.That's the way it works.
12:37You're asking me to take this on faith.Ziegler smiled at me.Do you think I would let you go in there if I wasn't sure?Have I ever knowingly put you in harm's way before?In all these years?I shrugged.It was true.He had kept me on missions that held relatively little risk,
12:56even when I asked him not to.But I had always known this mission was coming.I had literally been born for it.You'll be fine, Ziegler said.If they do put you on the throne, which is possible,They will see that Chernobog's black look doesn't affect you.Then they will surely make you drink the life tea,at which point the amnestics will be wiped away,
13:18and you will remember this conversation and all the training we've done.It all leads back to the life tea.That's what they do.Trust me, I've been studying them for years.Why do I have to be amnesticized in the first place? I ask.Can't I just...Come on, you know why, Bennett?Ziegler frowned and huffed through his nostrils.
13:38We can't risk them interrogating you and figuring out the plan.If you don't know the plan, you can't tell them.I shook my head slightly and moved on, knowing he was right.I don't understand why we can't just bomb them or something.Wouldn't that be easier? Less risky?Ziegler's good humor soured.He leaned toward me from his chair and gripped my shoulder.It has to be one of them.
14:01It has to be you.Believe me, I've tried every other way.Chernobog's black luck protects that village like a forest.fucking force field. We try bombing. The bombs malfunction and don't go off. Or, in one horrific case,the bombs explode in the aircraft, killing all aboard. Do you know how many fail-safes are in placeso that doesn't happen? Tried it all over the years. Nothing works, because it's all being done byoutsiders. The only way to do this, to stop all the disappearances, the kidnappings, the killings,is for you to do it. It has to be one of their own. That's why you're here. That's why I got you
14:37out of there. It was a bit of a miracle that we got you in the first place. I had to do somethingvery risky with another skip just to make sure we could get you out to counter Chernobog'sblack luck with some white luck of our own. I ended up killing that skip in the process. It was a whole thing.I was reprimanded and placed on leave, but that was okay because I had you. He smiled briefly atthe memory and then paused, unblinking eyes boring into mine. But I'll tell you once again, Benet.You do not have to do this. It's your choice. You want to stop? To put this off? Just say the word.I seriously considered saying the word. But then I thought of all the people Ziegler told me about who had been abducted for sacrifice or breeding.I knew their names, the names of their family members and friends, what they had done for a living, what their hobbies were.
15:31There were so many of them. And it wouldn't stop unless we did something, unless I did something.I want to do it.I just want to make sure we do it right.That's my boy, Ziegler said, grinning as he got up from his chair and pulled me into a hug.You're going to be all right.You'll come back to me.You will.Now, as I empty the last container into the black liquid, I hope he was right.
15:57I hope this works, and that I can go back to him, to my father.I'm putting the last empty container in my pocket, thinking about where I'll stash them.When a familiar voice says,What are you doing?I tense, looking over my shoulder from where I'm crouched next to the tub.I see my birth father standing a few yards behind me,eyes narrowed in distrust.He's shirtless, only wearing trousers, as if he just got out of bed.
16:24Sliding the empty container into my pocket while hoping he can't see it, I say.Praying to Chernobok, he couldn't sleep.My father eases closer.I saw you put something in the life tea.What was it?What did you just put in your pocket?I start to stand up, but my father says.Don't move. Stay there.
16:44I look down at the sharp bone lying on the ground between my knees.What were you doing?He asks, his tone plainly hostile.I look over my shoulder again, watching him.Father, listen, don't call me that.I didn't raise you.I'm not your father.He takes a step closer.
17:00He's a big man, bigger than me.Now show me what's in your pockets.Okay, I say.heart careening around in my chest as I reach for my right pocket.At the last moment, I dart my hand down, grab the bone and lurch to my feet.The months of rest and recuperation have done me good.I'm almost back to my old self, aside from a slight limp in my left leg.I think drinking the life tea has given me some of Chernobyl's strength.
17:24Some of the same strength that allowed that old man, my great uncle, to lift a boulder over his head.The same strength that seems to invigorate everyone from the infants to the elderly.But this also means that my father is fast.Faster than he should be for his age.He backpedals, but the tip of the bone sticks into the side of his abdomen.My stabbing motion plunges the bone deeper into his body, even as he continues backpedaling.The end result is gruesome.The bone tears a gash in his stomach about 10 inches wide.
17:55The internal pressure shifts, causing bloody ropes of intestine to protrude from the gash.My father takes several more backward steps before falling onto his belly.backside. He looks at the guts trying to spill out from his stomach, and then opens his mouth to yell.He gets the start of a savage bellow out, but I cut it off abruptly by jamming the bone deep intohis neck. Still, that stifled bellow seems to echo in my ears. I imagine eyes snapping open inthe surrounding houses, people getting out of bed to investigate. Leaving the piece of boneembedded in his throat, I grab my father under the arms and drag him out to the bush I've beenusing as a hiding place. A moment later, the sentinel comes running into view, drawn by the noise.
18:37Several men come out of the nearby homes. They look around and converse with the guard.My eyes are fixed on the drag marks my father's heels made on the ground, and the bits of bloodleft behind from his injuries. There's nothing I can do but hope as I sit crouched next to mydying father, one hand over his mouth just in case. He convulses as I pull the bone out of hisneck, blood jets from the wound. Soon enough, he's dead. And I watch as the men, having foundnothing, go back to what they were doing. I breathe in relief. After taking a few minutes to calmdown, I resume the rest of my night's tasks. RBC Training Ground has discovered potential in over20,000 Canadian athletes and counting. Your story could be next. If you've got the drive,
19:25they'll help you find your path to the Olympics. Let's see what you've got. Sign up for free atTrainingground.ca.The ritual commences despite concerns over my father's whereabouts.I plead ignorance, saying the last time I saw him was just before I went to bed.I can feel suspicious glances cast my way as the crowd gathers for the ritual, but no onesays anything to me.I try not to look at Chernobog, whose pupilous eyes seem to be fixed on me, or maybeit's my imagination.
19:59I feel that if I look at him, you'll know.Instead, I focus on breathing deeply to keep myself calm as the crowd thickens.I hear such platitudes as,The Black God will ensure his return,as people speak to my distraught mother.Alongside my sister, I comfort my mother, telling her it will be okay.But it's the Black God's hunger that allows the ritual to commence as usual.Now that they've run out of foundation personnel to sacrifice,
20:27the two poor souls dragged into the square are civilians from a nearby,city. One is a middle-aged woman, the other a man in his 30s. It pains me to watch, but I keeptelling myself that only one of them will die today if all goes well. And by luck at the draw,it's the man. I gaze with all the others as he's wrestled into the tub. The two men whocaptured him do the honors of forcing him to drink. To my relief, the process plays out exactlyas it should. The poison hasn't affected those properties of the liquid. As with everyother time, the priest comes forward to drink first. My palms are sweating so profusely, I almostdrop my cup as I watched the holy man gulp the liquid down. Ziegler assured me it would take
21:13at least ten minutes for the poison to work. After swallowing, the priest smiles and spreads his arms.The crowd cheers. I'm so overcome with relief I forget to cheer until I feel eyes boring into me.I take my proper place in line when the time comes, hoping my preparations have not been in vain.Over the past few months, I've made several small holes in the base of my cup.When I reached the tub, I keep my fingers wrapped around these holes until I dip the cup in,being careful not to allow too much liquid into the container.Since we dip from the tub two at a time, I have to make it look convincing.As soon as there's liquid inside, I release the holes,
21:52hoping the drainage is mistaken for drippings from my dip into the tub.Positioning my hand in such a way that the life tea dribbles down my forearm,I step away from the tub and pretend to drink.I have to force myself not to whip my head around,so I can see if anyone has noticed my deception.By the time I make it back to my place in the reforming crowd,I'm certain no one has.Grinding my teeth,
22:14I watch as the first children dip their cups into the tub.I want to run forward and slap the cups out of their hands.The damage has already been done, hasn't it?Can't I spare the children?Now that all the adults have drunk?Not according to Ziegler,who made a point of telling me that people could vomit up the poisonif they figured out what was going on.
22:34Feeling sick to my stomach,I watched the procession of children dip and drink.When everyone has had their turn at the tub,the priest moves over to the platformwhere the woman has been strapped to the chair.As he turns to address us,a grimace twists his face,and he doubles over.
22:52A murmur sweeps through the crowd.Growning in pain, the priest looks at your nobog,whose normally unreadable gaze now contains a hint of fear.Why?He cries.Why have you?A torrent of bloody vomit spuse from his mouth, cutting off his words.Next, the two men who drank directly after the priest gasp,
23:13clutching their stomachs as they stumble from their places in the crowd.Moments later, they too are vomiting their insides out.Frightened shouts come from all directions as panic slowly infest the onlookers.But soon enough, the shouts,are less from fear and more from pain.Like a collection of dominoes, the members of the crowd fall to their knees, or all foursone by one, as the poison works.Before the children succumb to the excruciating pain I've inflicted upon them, they
23:41ball uncomprehendingly, screaming for their parents to stand up.Then they too are writhing, crying, literally puking their guts out.I stand among them like a statue, afraid that if I move, they will know I'm to blame,and will somehow overcome their ailments to attack.my mother and sister clutch at my legs, begging for help between bouts of horrific vomiting.I can't look at them.I keep my eyes straight ahead, only taking it in peripherally.Minutes after the priest doubled over, I'm the only one standing, the only human standing.
24:16Chernobog watches his followers, his worshippers, die with increasingly apparent desolation,his seemingly omniscient stare has transformed into a frightened sneer, which I can still seesee over the top of the black throne structure.But as the people I've poisoned finally stopped moving,I noticed that, with each death, the black god shrinks a little.Grateful to have done something other than the consequences of my actions to focus on,I pay close attention as the god continues to shrink until he's no bigger than a man,half obscured by the complex skeletal framework of the killing throne,
24:52and he's still shrinking.The woman strapped to the throne yells at me in a language I don't know,but it's not hard to parse what she's saying.Help me!As I force my legs to move,stepping from my spot amid the crowd,my foot squelches on my mother's bloody vomited innards.I step over fresh corpses,
25:10some of them still twitching,phantom electrical signalstraveling for the last timethrough the central nervous system.Finally, reaching the woman,I unstrap her from the chairand lead her away from the gruesome scene.As we go, I glance at Chernobog,
25:24who was a wretched, twisted figure,now lying on the ground at the foot of a tree.His power is gone.Soon Ziegler and the others will be here.They've been watching via satellite.They can finally contain the black god,stopping the centuries-long killings he has commanded.I take the woman to my parents' shack and plant her in a chair,
25:45telling her in English that help will be here soon.She seems to understand.Knowing I don't have much time until the village is overrun with foundation agents,I head toward the ritual ground.Unwilling to walk among the bodies again, I take the long way, rounding a building and walking along the tree line to where Chernobog's twisted form still lies.I approach slowly, looking into his black eyes.Their strange glow has dimmed considerably.He blinks as I crouch a few feet away next to a tree.
26:16Staring at him, I think of how many of my friends he killed.Guys I've known for years.Ones I've trained with.I recall how, with a wave of a hand, the might.The finer god caused the bizarre deaths of Bonner and Velasco and Chang and Snyder.I remember thinking during the massacre how impossible it seemed for a bunch of villagersarmed with hand tools to get the drop on us.Now I know better.
26:41It was all Chernobog and his black luck.No one left to worship you, I say with a cruel smile.You're fucked! You'll be poked and prodded for eternity.Maybe they'll even find a way to kill you.And that whole time, I want you to remember this face.the one who did it to you. You blessed me and I got you. How does that feel? The pitiful creature'slips move, but I hear no words. One desiccated hand quickly performs a series of elaborate gestures.What are you trying to say, motherfucker? What is it? As I speak, Chernobyl crawls weakly toward me.
27:15Before he's close enough to touch me, I stand up and step back. Still, he reaches a thin,knobby hand toward me. Then he whips his hand away, gnarled fingers brushing againstthe bark of the nearby tree trunk. The tall pine tree tilts drunkenly toward me, as if its rootshave just been severed. I scamper out of the way as the tree collapses toward the clearing,smashing into the black throne structure, throwing pieces of debris high into the air.I watch some of them land and tree branches nearby. Pieces of wood thumped to the ground hereand there, but none come near me. Untouched, the fallen tree between us, I smile at Chernobyl.I'm blessed, remember? Plus, you don't have enough.
27:56enough power left to do anything to anyone.You're done, you piece of shit.But what if he does have enough power left, I think?Just enough black luck left for one more death?Suddenly I want to get far away from the pitiful creature.As I'm about to walk away, Chernobog grins at me,revealing a full set of black teeth and brown gums.I've never seen him smile before.
28:20It sends a sickly shiver through me.Shaking my head, I turn away, heading back the way I came.by skirting the tree line so I don't have to walk through the dead bodies.Something else is bothering me, though.Something about the strange hand gestures Chernobyl did before crawling toward me.I mull this over while I walk.As I pass under the branches of a tall pine tree, it hits me.Can he reverse the blessing?
28:44I freeze, looking over my shoulder at Chernobyl.He's still grinning, watching me, unblinking.Something stirs in the branches overhead.The realization comes too late.It sounds like something falling.I look up just in time to see the lines of the pitchfork hurtling toward my face.SCP 6198 is an extra-dimensional entity,believed to be a god worshipped by 6th through 12th century Pelobian Slavs,
29:12known as Chernobog, aka the black god.The magnitude of any effects and the strength of Chernobog's presence in the worldare tied to and supported by two factors.The number of devotees that worship itand the number of human sacrifices it receives.An investigation led researchers to a small village of Redacted in Poland,where the entity was active.The villagers, known as SCP 6198-A, appeared non- anomalous.
29:41However, the life expectancy of the village was notably higher than the surrounding area.In addition to this, elderly individuals residing in the villageexhibited the vitality of someone half their age.SCP 6198-B refers to a black liquid with properties that are still being studied by foundation researchers.Only those born within the village and blessed by Chernobog can safely consume this anomalous liquidwithout dying and turning into the liquid themselves.After heavy losses and decades of work, the foundation has SCP 6198 contained.All publicly accessible information pertaining to Chernobog is to be eliminated.
30:23and replaced with disinformation to prevent worship of the entity.
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