The Eager Dimension Hopper (SCP) By Huurdle

This is one of the best SCP fanfic out there, the MC is clever so that's a plus, check it out!

Rated M

Platform: Webnovel, Royalroad, Scribblehub

Words: 30k

Synopsis: SCP 507 didn't utilize his abilities properly, that's what got him killed. Let's see if someone with ambition does any better.

Chapter 1 - 1.5k Words

A blond man laid upon an altar, dead. Crimson liquid slowly dripped from his head where a blood red crown sat. Creatures constructed with bits and pieces of bone, shell and trash circle and chant towards the man. Their body's dripped black liquid as they gave frenzied prayers towards the altar. They raised their appendages to the sky, filled with flying beasts and several crimson moons. The man on the altar began to shake as the chanting grew more and more intense.

Then all of a sudden the chanting ceased as a tall figure began to approach the man. The cultists made way for the creature. It towered over everything around it, perpetually just taller than anything you could compare it to. It had countless long thin bony arms and wrapped itself in a mountain of feathers and bile. It's face was indiscernible, buried within the refuse of its body. It paused for a moment, before it reached within its flesh and pulled out a bright red ball of light.

It's arm cracked and twisted as it moved the light towards the body, wisps of red smoke trailing off the ball. However, just before the creature could push the light into the crown, the man at the altar vanished from the spot without a trace. Confusion overtook the monster, before turning to understanding and rage. The creature screamed in anger and countless arms shot from it's plumage. The arms tore apart the cultists, destroying everything within its reach, and the monster could reach everything.

Until after quite some time, only the cries of the eldritch beast itself could be heard within the dead world it resided.

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The man's corpse appeared midair in the cafeteria of a certain facility, before crashing down into the table below, ruining Steve's scrambled eggs. All eyes turned to the corpse, before a guard finally lifted his radio.

"Send up Dr. Hearthgrieve, I think Houdini might be dead."

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Several dozen miles away a young well-built man named Michael was fixing the satellite dish atop his house. He jostled the dish around, not quite sure exactly how to fix it.

He yelled down towards the house, "Hey Hugh, are there any changes with the T.V.?"

"Nope, are you shaking it!"

"What do you think jackass, of course I am!"

Why am I the one up here anyways, we split the rent but every time something breaks in this house I end up having to fix it, Michael thought.

Anyways, looks like I'll need to call in a professional tomorrow, it better not be an expensive fix. Who am I kidding, it's going to be super expensive.

With a sigh, Michael began to descend the steep roof when suddenly the shingles under his feet came loose, causing him to lose balance. Michael tumbled down the roof, unable to right himself before falling head first onto the pavement below. A sickening crack echoed out from where he landed.

Several moments pass before a bright blue ball of light is ripped out from Michael's body, rocketing off into the distance, leaving a rather annoyed Hugh wondering why his T.V. wasn't working yet.

The orb flew fast as light towards its destination, before dipping below the earth and rocketing into the crimson crown of the ritual victim who still lay sprawled atop the cafeteria table, and Steve's ruined breakfast.

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When Michael woke up, everything hurt and his head felt groggy. He looked around expecting to be in a hospital, instead he was laying on a cot inside of a concrete room with a large mirror covering most of the far wall. The only door looked heavily reinforced, and upon closer inspection had no actual handle to open it with. All corners of the room had cameras and a table with two chairs sat in the middle of the room.

Standing up, Michael felt weirdly heavier. Upon looking down he saw a pudgy belly and skin a good bit paler than what he should have.

"Um...what in the actual fuck."

Michael quickly began to study himself in the mirror. Short blonde hair and green eyes sat upon the short, unathletic build of the man in the reflection.

He paused in thought , Is this some sort of isekai bullshit? Don't they usually get overpowered abilities with their new bodies? Why's this body look like it hasn't seen a gym in the past decade?

However, the strangest part of his new body was undoubtedly the crimson crown on his head. It looked to be incredibly intricate, with rubies decorating it's exterior and hundreds of small symbols carved into it. When he tried to take it off, it stuck firmly to his head.

Moving towards one of the cameras, Michael waved his arms.

"Hey where am I? I wanna talk to somebody!"

A moment later a staticky voice could be heard from the camera, "Calm down 507, please take a seat at the table. Dr. Hearthgrieve will be with you shortly."

Michael saw no reason to not comply. He sat down at the table and a few minutes passed before a thin scientist walked into the room carrying a briefcase.

"Good evening Tommy, I take it you're feeling a bit better?"

"My names not Tommy man, where am I?"

The doctor ignored him and took a seat opposite him at the table, pulling a stack of papers out of his briefcase.

Please save all questions until I have completed the interview.

Michael grumbled, Not exactly a polite one, now is he? Whatever though, it's best I comply. If they wanted me dead I'd already be dead. This place is secure, they could easily do it, it's best to not give them a reason.

Tapping his papers on the table the scientist began, "What is your full name?"

"Michael Gregory Stevens"

"Species?"

Michael narrowed his eyes, "What?"

"Please answer the question."

"...human."

"Good, do you remember the events of the past three days?"

"I was just doing normal stuff, hell I was fixing my satellite before I woke up in this room."

My face paled in realization, "I did fall off my roof though."

The doctor looked interested, "Can you give me your address?"

Skeptically Michael told him the information, and for the next hour continued to answer question after question.

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This monotony was finally broken when the speakers crackled to life, "His story checks out, permission granted to disclose information previously granted to SCP 507."

"The scientist leaned back in his chair, visibly more relaxed."

I turn back to him, "What did all that mean?"

"Ah, that just means you passed through our little lie detector test", he said with a wink.

Now Mr. Stevens, I think I understand what happened here. You died falling off your roof, and bonded with that crown on your head. It's probably some sort of soul storage device, It wouldn't be the first one we've seen. It seems that the original 507 died in another dimension, and got that crown stuck to his head. We tried taking it off, it didn't work out. That thing is stuck for good."

"What do you mean by another dimension?"

"Oh, my apologies Mr. Stevens, I haven't told you why you're here. Our organization secures, contains and protects the world from paranormal entities, your new body and crown being two of them."

"If the soul storage crown is a new addition, then what was so special about this body?"

"Well every two weeks or so you'll get sent to a random dimension, and come back somewhere between an hour and 5 days later."

Michael paused for a moment. He knew the implication of all this, but couldn't help being a little excited. He'd always been interested in exploring, sadly nowadays you need to be exceptionally gifted at math to be an explorer. Not my cup of tea. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.

"Can I get some examples of these dimensions?"

"Sure, one of them had vegetables that screamed when eaten. It damn near turned Tommy into a vegetarian.", he chuckled.

"Another one had rats that spoke russian, were bipedal and dressed like humans. I believe they had a war going with a group of similarly unique squirrels."

"Are these dimensions dangerous?"

"No, well most of them anyways. I'd reckon ninety percent of them just have some weird gimmick."

"And the other ten percent?"

"Well, that's why we let you request items to build a prep kit. They'll have to be pre-approved of course. Tommy had built up quite a bit of trust with us, you'll have to do the same before we consider giving you any of our more lethal equipment."

"Also never mention this facility or anything going on here outside of this compound. Everything we are giving you is a privilege, and it can easily be revoked."

Michael rubbed his beard in thought, "I can do that, just make sure the equipment I ask for is delivered. I don't want to be killed by something like Nazi spiders just because your organization decides to be stingy."

"I'll see what I can do. I'll leave a pen and paper, just make a list of some essential supplies and I'll see if I can get them approved."

The scientist got up and left, once again leaving Michael alone in his new cage/home.

Chapter 2 - 1.5k Words

Once the man left, Michael began to take in the situation. He could feel the excitement building in the pit of his gut. Up until he looked down at his pudgy body, he frowned. How did this Tommy guy even survive this long.

Michael shrugged, well no time like the present I suppose. He dropped down to the floor and began to do his usual warm up routine, tuned back on account of the new body. He needed to find his body's new limit, how far could he run, how much could he lift, he just didn't know. Not knowing is what can easily get you killed in a dangerous situation, so here we are.

While Michael did his crunches, facing the two-way mirror of course, you gotta give them a show, he pondered what supplies he should ask for. After some time he had a list of items he was somewhat happy with.

A week's worth of rations.

Body armor.

Workout equipment.

A magazine fed shotgun and a place to practice shooting.

Proper combat attire.

A small tank of air.

Fire Starting Kit.

A quality knife and crowbar.

Gas Mask.

Glow Sticks, Flares and a Flashlight.

He could be forgetting things, but that's all he could come up with at the moment. Once he showed the camera he was done with the list, a man in a bright orange jumpsuit came and took it. He had the letters D-4214 written in bold on the back of his jumpsuit. A couple minutes later, the man was sent back into my room and the speaker buzzed to life.

"Attention SCP-507, you will be cohabitating with the individual D-4214 for an unspecified amount of time, a separate cot will be moved into the room in just a moment."

That's odd, whatever I should introduce myself to the guy.

"Hey, names Michael, you?"

"...James."

Not the most talkative guy.

"Well how long have you been in this compound James? Anything I should know about the place?"

James looked over at me with reluctance.

"Look, I've been instructed not to talk to you. I'm just supposed to sit over there. Now please leave me be so I can finish my task."

I shrugged and went back to my workout, if the guy wanted to be a prick there's nothing I can do about it.

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Just like that the better part of a week passed. James was taken out of the cell a couple days ago, I haven't heard from him since. Doesn't matter, no company is better than bad company. The workouts have been going well, no results are showing yet, but that's to be expected. It has only been a week.

That's when Dr. Hearthgrieve walked into my room.

He had a smile plastered on his face, "Good news Mr. Stevens, I got your supplies approved."

He handed me the list back and I took a glance at it.

1. A week's worth of rations. (Approved

2. Body armor. (Approved)

3. Workout equipment. (Approved)

4. A magazine fed shotgun and a place to practice shooting. (Partially Approved)

5. Proper combat attire. (Approved)

6. A small tank of air. (Approved)

7. Fire Starting Kit (Approved)

8. A quality knife and crowbar. (Approved)

9. Gas Mask. (Approved)

10. Glow Sticks, flares and a Flashlight. (Approved)

"Why was the shotgun only partially approved?"

"Well, we can't really have you walking around here with real ammo, so you'll be provided with rubber bullets."

Michael narrowed his eyes, "You expect me to go explore other dimensions with non-lethal ammo? No wonder this body's previous owner kicked the bucket."

Hearthgrieve gaze didn't budge, "Just be glad you're even getting this much, they only gave Tommy a pistol. At least your gun's going to have some stopping power. Anyways your request to practice in the shooting range has been approved. With a chaperone of course."

"A chaperone? How much of a prisoner am I really?"

Hearthgrieves expression suddenly became serious, "You can never leave the facility, you should accept that a fact and move on. It'll be easier for all parties involved."

Michael raised his hands in mocking defense, "Whoa there, I never said I wanted to leave. This is the most interesting thing to ever happen to me. I'm not about to run away from the people who are funding my little adventures. However-"

Michael moved in closer to Hearthgrieve, "I'm not Tommy, I'm not an idiot, don't try to fuck me over like you did him. I bet my life that he died due to your people's negligence. I will not die alone in some parallel dimension like him, so get me some goddamn real ammo."

"Are you trying to threaten me Tommy?"

"It's not a threat, just a conversation."

Hearthgrieve grins, "Then perhaps we can make a deal. If you can manage to retrieve items with anomalous properties from the other dimensions and bring them back here, I may be able to provide you some of our...more lethal items. They'd have to be useful to the foundation of course, but it would work wonders with building up our lacking trust in you.

That reaction right there says a lot. It feels like they'd prefer I don't die, but they won't care much if it ends up happening. So I'm expendable, but only to an extent, interesting.

A sly grin creeps onto my face, "I can work with that, just remember what I said. Now take me to the shooting range, I wanna see my new shotgun."

"Not my job, a guard will be by shortly to escort you."

Dr. Hearthgrieve began to move towards the door.

"Before you go, I want to ask something thats been bugging me. How the hell did Tommy even live as long as he did?"

Hearthgrieve scratched the back of his head, "Well, his usual survival method was to run off and hide in a corner somewhere, usually crying. Nothing our organization could do to convince him otherwise, that man was scared shitless of his ability."

With that said, he walked away.

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Not long after Hearthgrieve left the room, a guard came to escort Michael to the shooting range. The walk from the cell was uneventful, but provided some much needed information. The facility seemed to be a series of long white hallways that occasionally opened up into rooms containing huge metal doors labeled with various numbers preceded by SCP.

Upon arrival at the shooting range, a man with a graying beard and sharp blue eyes greeted Michael.

"Well if it isn't Grognak The Destroyer, how's it going?"

Michael looks around, "Are you talking to me?

The man's expression dips for a moment, "Well looks like Hearthgrieve wasn't messing with me. That sure is unfortunate, Grognak was a good guy."

"Are you talking about Tommy?"

"Tommy? Oh, that's just what Dr. Hearthgrieve called him. Grognak only went by nicknames, nobody in the facility actually knows his real name."

The man smiled and reached into a cabinet, pulling out a shotgun.

"Anyways, this right here is a Saiga-12, and your new best friend. I'm going to teach you everything you need to know about this bad boy. I've also thrown in something extra, I've taken the liberty of suppressing the weapon. I figured you'd need it, just be aware that it's still plenty loud so don't expect nobody to hear your shots.

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Over the course of several hours the instructor taught Michael how to properly maintain the gun, as well as assisting with improving Michael's marksmanship.

Just like that the rest of the week continued on smoothly. With Michael spending most of his time either exercising or training his accuracy down at the firing range. He wasn't a bad shot, but moving targets proved to be somewhat difficult past a certain distance.

Once the two weeks had finally passed, things changed. Michael couldn't put down any of his gear and nobody was allowed to touch him. The dimensional shifts were random and Michael would only take things with him that he was touching during the time of the shift.

Apparently that includes people, I'll need to request a group of people to go with me next time. I doubt the higher ups will approve it though. I'm still expendable after all. But hey who knows.

With that Michael leaned back in his cot to relax, when suddenly a feeling of weightlessness took over his body. It felt like falling through water, and when it finally stopped Michael was laying in a place he didn't recognize.

Michael stood up and scanned his surroundings, holding his shotgun close to his chest. He stood in a small wooden cottage, a fire blazing in it's hearth. Farming tools littered the walls and the smell of drying herbs could be smelled. Noise could be heard from the adjacent room as two figures moved towards him. Michael leveled the rifle towards the people.

He flicked on the light at the tip of his rifle, no use staying in the dark if he'd already been spotted. They appeared to be a couple. One tall well built man and a stout looking woman. The strange thing about them was the weird mask they both wore. It appeared to be made of rotting flesh, beating and pulsing as if it were alive.