"Ha — obviously I won."
Linray dropped the rope and looked at the thin man. "You know what comes next."
The Vicious Face wasn't smart — not like a human. But the moment the security staff materialized around the thin man, even it understood what "punishment" meant.
*Let's see what happens when two contained objects meet.*
---
The thin man lunged.
His body erupted with strength — inhuman, desperate, animal. He ripped free from the security guards' grip like they were made of paper and charged straight at Linray.
More guards appeared. Five. Ten. Fifteen. They piled on — grabbing limbs, pinning shoulders, trying to wrestle him down. The thin man thrashed like a bull on fire, throwing bodies left and right.
Twenty guards. That seemed to be SCP-024's limit. Twenty was enough.
Barely.
"Host." Linray's voice cut through the chaos. "There's no need for a fifth game. I'm the only player left."
"I don't want the reward."
"I want to see YOU. Come out."
---
The security guards were still struggling with the thin man. His arm twisted at an impossible angle — snapped, bent, broken in three places — and he KEPT FIGHTING. No pain response. No screaming. The Vicious Face didn't care about the host body. It was disposable.
"Meet me?" The host's voice sounded almost amused. "What a strange request."
"But since you've won — I can grant this wish."
Linray clenched his fists. *The second I see it, I figure out how to kill it. Contain the Death Show in one shot.*
"LINRAY!!!"
The thin man let out a final roar — one arm reaching through the pile of guards, fingers clawing toward Linray. Then the body went limp. Done. Used up.
Something crawled out of the man's chest.
A face. Just a face — no skull, no head, just skin and features mounted on dozens of centipede-like legs. They skittered and clicked as it pulled itself free from the ruined body and scurried toward Linray.
*It's abandoning the host. Going for me.*
The Vicious Face in the open air — exposed, vulnerable, desperate. It didn't care about the danger. Linray's body was too attractive. Too powerful. Too perfect a vessel.
The security staff didn't chase the Face. They dragged the thin man's empty body away like a dead dog.
"As you wished."
The host appeared.
Not walked in. Not stepped out. Just — existed, suddenly, where nothing had been a moment before. Like a ghost deciding to be visible.
Red dress. Black top hat. A microphone in one hand. And where a face should have been — nothing. Blank. Smooth. A white screen of skin with no features at all.
"I've fulfilled your request."
"But I have my own rules. Anyone who sees me — dies."
"Winning the game does not exempt you from that penalty."
---
The Vicious Face on one side. The Death Show's host on the other.
Wolf in front. Tiger behind. Both closing in.
Linray breathed.
*Calm. Focus. Two targets. One move.*
He grabbed the Vicious Face mid-lunge — snatched it out of the air by its centipede legs — and HURLED it at the host's blank face.
The impact was perfect. The Vicious Face, carried by Linray's inhuman strength and its own momentum, slammed directly into the host's white screen of a face and stuck.
Two faceless entities. One collision. The Vicious Face imprinted itself onto the host's blank canvas — already taking shape, already trying to parasitize.
The host staggered. The Face on its head was dazed, half-embedded, bruised and swollen from the impact.
*Contain the Face first.*
Linray looked at his hand. The Face had latched onto his palm during the grab — a residual grip, clinging, trying to bond. He pulled. It didn't come off.
*Shit.*
"Return to base." The Red Queen's voice cut in — cold, clinical, exactly on time. "The Death Show has not yet been fully contained. However, a new containment object has been acquired: SCP-034Z, The Vicious Face."
"Due to the Death Show's unique properties, the Overseer is authorized to conduct on-site destruction."
*Destruction. Not containment. She wants me to DESTROY it.*
The Death Show had gone silent. No host voice. No music. No countdown. The faceless host stood frozen — half its blank face now occupied by a bruised, grotesque human face that didn't belong there. It would've been terrifying if it wasn't so goddamn funny.
The door was open. The game was over. But Linray couldn't exactly punch the entire studio into rubble.
Then he noticed the prop room.
Fireworks. Explosives. Stage pyrotechnics. An entire storage closet of things designed to make controlled fire for cameras.
*There is a way.*
---
Linray worked fast. Grabbed everything flammable. Set charges inside and outside the studio. Positioned the explosives at structural points.
Then lit the match.
The studio went up like a tinderbox.
Flames erupted from every corner — racing along walls, climbing support beams, eating through decades of cheap construction in seconds. The fireworks detonated in cascading bursts, showering sparks across the entire compound.
Thick smoke billowed into the sky. The fire spread beyond the Death Show's studio and caught the neighboring sets.
"RUN! Someone's setting fires!"
"Call the fire department! The abandoned studio's burning!"
"Who DID this?!"
"Tommy — I told you to bring SOME fireworks, not burn down the whole goddamn studio!"
"Director, it wasn't me—"
"Grab the cameras and RUN!"
"Who called the police?"
"Why would you call the POLICE? Call the FIRE DEPARTMENT!"
The surrounding film crews scattered like roaches.
"Which crew did this?! If you can't shoot explosion scenes, DON'T SHOOT THEM!"
"It's not us — we're filming a romance! There ARE no explosions!"
"+1 — we're a cultivation drama. All CGI. We don't even have fight choreography!"
"+1 — it's definitely not us. We hired premium people. Climate-controlled studio. Not even DUST, let alone fire!"
One crew's lead actor — some pretty-boy idol — stepped out looking bored.
"Director, are we still shooting? My schedule's packed. I have *Dad's Day Out* next. I don't have time for this."
"Also — you're paying me whether we finish or not. Read the contract."
"We're done. We spent tens of millions — how do we shoot without a set?"
"Director... those tens of millions were the actor's fee. Our actual sets cost about ten thousand."
"Director! Director! Don't panic — I saved the camera equipment!"
"REALLY?!"
The director's face went from funeral to wedding in half a second. He clutched the camera like it was his firstborn child.
---
Fire sirens wailed in the distance. The crowd dispersed. Chaos everywhere.
Linray — the arsonist — stood quietly at the edge of the crowd, wrapped his right hand to hide the residual marks from the Vicious Face, and snapped his fingers.
He vanished.
---
"Death Show destruction confirmed... though it will be difficult to verify whether the damage was Foundation-caused."
"The final videotape has been recovered. Analysis will confirm shortly."
An ordinary-looking person held a silver metal fragment, glanced once at the sea of fire, and disappeared.
---
TN:
Hello! Squid gam— SCP-24 mini arc finished! Next is the Demon Slayer arc. I only publish when the entire mini arc is done to keep names and narration consistent.
Please comment! Even one comment gives me energy to continue. Power stones too maybe? And if any text or part felt weird, just tell me — I'm happy to be pointed out.