SCP-3288; Part 4, Banquet:

Calls and cheers erupted from down the chiselled hall, quietened only by the sturdy oak door bound together with silver braces and bearing a crystal ball handle. Top and Jester rested their weapons open their chests but didn't take their hands off the trigger. Iron held his knife in his hand, knuckles white beneath his black gloves. Top couldn't shake the feeling of something dangerously wrong.

Why hadn't they taken their weapons? They can't be afraid, 3288's have shown no signs of being able to process or show fear in monitored situations or in field operations. Are they a new variant? Do they actually mean us harm, or do they want something else?

"I do apologise my dear friends." said the Baron sucking in some excess saliva. "Schniff, do go ahead my boy, and see if our dear family are ready to receive our honoured guests?"

The thing holding the Baron's talon sniggered and scuttled off to the large double oak doors, but moved to the side and vaulted itself on its arms and feet through a large dog-flap looking creation. "I must say, I didn't expect them to start the party without you. Unless there has been some discombobulating incident that has rattled their senses bahahaaaa" he slurred, draining the last of his drink in a fine glass.

When did he get that? Top thought, just now noticing the drink.

Top looked down and found his weapon gone, and a martini glass in his hand, half empty and with an olive on a little stick, Jester had the same. Iron was no longer behind them.

"The fuck?" spat Top as he threw down his drink and reached for his pistol and knife, both gone, Jester did the same. The delicate glasses smashed upon the rough rock floor, this noise and sudden profanity made the Baron jump a little, he spun to face the men with his hand upon his chest in a gesture of freight. "Oh dear! I apologise my dear friends!" he smiled, "Greck, please fetch another drink for our guests, and please, gentlemen, be careful this time, these things do cost an....arm... and a leg! bahahaaaa" he exclaimed. The smaller 3288 called Greck quickly scampered to the side of the tunnel and scaled the wall with ease.

Top blinked and was then sat at a wide, dark wooden table. The fine wood was varnished and polished, with a velvet runner down the centre. Clean white napkins folded into extravagant animals. Top was sat at the head, Jester was gone. Down each flank of the table sat young, old, fat and slim figures. Each dressed in frilly and fine clothing of rich colours, fingers bearing jewelled rings.

They were singing. Singing old songs.

Top tried to get up from his chair but was pulled back into its cushioned surface. Taken aback, he checked himself;

Weapons: Gone.

Mask: Gone.

Radio: Gone.

Tied to the damn chair!

Shit!

Shit, shit, shit!

Atleast I still have my pants on! Top thought to himself.

But where was Iron and Jester?

Somebody clincked a glass three times, and all the 3288's stopped their song and laughter. Taking their places at the table and lowered their heads in a sort of prayer. After a few seconds a massive door shrouded in darkness that Top missed opened and out came a hideous twisted form dressed in a stained white double breast jacket and a bent toque blanche. Snot dripping from its flat broken nose, a drooped open mouth held few teeth, but the ones it did hold were broken and jagged. It was pushing a large metal trolly that held large silver dinner plates.

Two large silver dinner plates.

Shit.

The Cook 3288 limped over to The opposite head to Top, where the Baron sat. "Oh, thank you, my dear cook. But please do serve our honoured dinner guest first! bahahaaa" it's high pitched laughter was starting to really get on Tops nerves. But it sent a ripple through the gathered abominations who laughed politely, matching the Baron's laugh.

The cook mumbled in agreement and smiled a crooked smile as it turned and pushed the trolly towards Top.

Top wriggled his wrists slowly and subtly, attempting to free himself, but the cook approached. Softly placing its sharp talons on Tops arm. It made a tutting sound and patted him arm, sending disgusting shivers over his skin.

The Baron watched intently. Smiling the same smile, almost splitting its skin. The cook lifted the two large silver dinner plates individually and laid them down in front of Top. It's smile growing, savouring the fear running through Top. It lifted the first silver dinner lid, revealing the meal inside.

A human thigh lay garnished in leaf and cherry tomatoes, black crispy flakes lay upon the skin.

Flame Grilled.

Fuck.