Two Gods, and an Aggie | SCP-8479

Aggi stared at his phone screen, even though it had gone black several minutes ago. He wasn't quite sure whether the call he'd just ended actually happened or not. It was all very surreal, but it was needed. What he'd created was just too great for mere mortals to handle. But after a little thought, calling a service named Renta God and asking for divine help over the phone felt kinda cheap? No, that wasn't the word Aggi was looking for. Not cheap, but commercial? Yes, commercial. But then, considering the reason he'd called, Aggi should have expected it to feel that way. After all, he needed help getting the message out about his new invention. And wasn't that commerce and a nutshell? Aggi shoved that kind of base thinking out of his mind. He was a genius with an invention that would revolutionize everything. Absolutely everything. Thursday after talking to the Renta God operator who was a nice gentleman, very knowledgeable. Aggi walked into his kitchen and opened the fridge. Slim picking set before him on the mostly empty shelves. He'd been so busy that keeping food stocked had become a bit of a problem as of late. And Aggi wasn't much for grocery shopping anyway. Though he snagged, the single can of generic brand dietsoda popped the top and drank deeply. As he walked out of the kitchen, his hand to his mouth to stifle the sustained belch creeping up out of his esophagus. There was a polite knock at the door. Already? He finished his belch and cleared his throat. Yes, I'll be right there. It was stupid of Aggi to think that the God he'd procured would be anything but timely. He'd be so stupid. Setting the can of dietsoda down on an end table, Aggi crossed his small, sparse bungalows living room and opened the door. Hey, you Aggi. A short man dressed, head to toe in old school Nike running gear stood on the porch. I got the right place. Oh, yes, yes, you have the right place. Aggi stepped aside, slightly in awe, but also slightly confused by the track suit. He was expecting more of a tunic or toga outfit. Please, come in. Thank you so much for her, you. I didn't hurry. Trust me. But you're welcome all the same, man. The short man brushed past Aggi and into the small bungalow. He looked about and nodded. Nice place. The short man scrunched his face a little. Um, what's that smell? Yes, about that. Um, well, that's the reason I have purchased your services. Yeah, well, you haven't purchased anything yet. So let's talk payment, yeah? Of course, of course. I am prepared to pay cash or Bitcoin, but I was told you may prefer something more organic. The short man shrugged. I dabble in all sorts of stuff, so it's really more about what you've got to offer. Will I take cash? Sure. Do I want to take cash? No. It's got no true intrinsic value, right? It's just paper. For nowadays, numbers on the screen. There's no substance to it. Not real weight. The short man did a quick circle nodding at Aggi's sparse decorations. You live here alone, Aggi, my man? Because it looks like you live here all alone. No, girlfriend. No boyfriend. No spouse, partner. Significant other to help you while away the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, years, until you bite it and go for a ride with cannon across the river steaks. Aggi shook his head. No. No, sorry. Just me. Why are you sorry? I don't know. You sounded disappointed. And what? Me not having a partner. All right, yeah. No. I'm disappointed in the complete and told the lack of personality this house has. You know, I have a brother who could really spruce up the place. He doesn't charge much. Mostly a little of your life essence so he can work up a delicious elixir for the nymphs. Man, have you ever been to a nymph party when they are high on elixir? Brilliant baby. Brilliant. Um, no. Not looking for decorative advice. Oh, he doesn't give advice. He hires my brother and he completely takes over. Look at what he provides. And if you want any changes or alterations, well, you're so well on that front, my man. That doesn't sound pleasant at all. Why would I give ever control to someone who might ignore my personal aesthetic? Your personal aesthetic? The shortman turned in a circle once more and shrugged. And what personal aesthetic is that, Aggie? Sad to bachelor with no taste? I mean. That's what you're going for. Then you freaking nailed it, man. You definitely don't need my brother's help with that. You have perfected sad bachelor. Aggie, maybe you should hire out your services to other sad bachelors. Go in. Make sure they don't have too much color or life in any of their decorations. The shortman walked over to the wall and felt the surface. What do you call this piece? Um, a stain. I opened a packet of duck sauce too fast and it sprayed everywhere. I couldn't get it cleaned off the wall. Well, it fits you, man. You could show others how to not open duck sauce packets properly and make a killing. We should talk branding right now. What? No, no. That's not why I called you here. I called you so you could help. Aw, crap. The shortman put a finger in his ear. Aggie hadn't noticed the Bluetooth earpiece before. Give me one momento, will you Aggie? I just got a new gig that will take only a second. Maybe two seconds, but I doubt it. What? What do you mean you? The shortman was gone in the blink of an eye. Aggie just stood there, stunned. But before he could even move an inch, the shortman returned. His running outfit slightly damp on the shoulders. Dammit! The shortman frowned at his shoulders. I know I ran between the raindrops. I know it! He lifted a hand and shook it at the ceiling. Nice one, Jupiter! Real freaking funny, pops! Aggie frowned. I'm sorry. What did you say? Which part? There were more than a few words in that sentence I just uttered. Yes, I know. But you said a name. Jupiter? Yep. Jupiter. My pops. Good guy when he's not changing into animals and nailing maidens and fields. I give my bro so much crap from that. But it never stops being funny. The shortman chuckled. Good thing I'm fast on my feet. Or Hercules would have totally ripped my head off by now. Heracles you mean? And when you said Jupiter, you meant Zeus. Um, no. My bro's name is Hercules. And who the underworld are you to tell me what my pops name is? I mean, come on man. He's my pops. I know his name. It's Jupiter. Maggie rubbed his face. Oh dear. This isn't what was supposed to happen. How you mean? The shortman looked about. Already bored with the conversation. Hey, you got anything to eat? I am starved. Running to Barcelona and back in two seconds really works up in appetite. No. I'm afraid my cupboards are a little bare. But speaking of food. Bamaar. Okay. Not getting paid in food looks like. The shortman clapped his hands together and a peel of thunder roared over the bungalow, causing him to laugh. Whoa, pops. Not enough. I got this, all right? He grinned at Aggie. So not doing cash, not doing food? What am I getting paid in? Well, not to be rude, but I'm afraid you aren't getting paid at all. There has been a misunderstanding. I didn't call for you. You didn't? The shortman pulled a huge wad of notes out of his pocket and sorted through them. Most fell from his grasp and disappeared before touching the hardwood floor. But one remained in the man's hand. He brought it close to his nose and studied it. Yeah, no. Says here, Aggie North. 167 East Hampton Avenue. That's what I went. I'm never wrong with addresses. You are Aggie North, right, man? I am. Yes, but. And this is 167 East Hampton Avenue, right? Yes, it is, but then I don't see what the problem is, Aggie North. I'm in the right place. You're the right guy. Let's do some business. Yes, this is the right address. And I am the right guy. But you are the wrong God. The statement fell between them like a dead bird, tumbling from a fig tree. The shortman studied Aggie for a good several seconds, rubbed his face up and down, then nodded. Right. Yeah, got it. You aren't looking for me. You're looking for him. He began to stomp around the room, cursing left and right. Of course, you're asking for him. Everyone asks for him. They think because he was the quote unquote original that these more powerful or got more cash with the cosmological wonders of all existence. The shortman stopped stomping and marched over to Aggie, backing him up against the duck sauce stained wall. Is that what you think, Aggie North? That he is the original. So he's better somehow? Well, let me tell you a thing or two. Mr. I'm going to die alone because I can't decorate a lovely arts and crafts bungalow properly. That he is no better than I am. In fact, he is way, way, way weaker than me. Does he have an entire planet in his name? Does he have his own space on the periodic table? Does he have a card brand named after him? Does he? No, he does not, man. So stop acting all stuck up and realize I am the real deal. You're going to get way better results from me than from him every damn day of the week. Aggie swallowed hard and shuffled his feet, feeling a mixture of horror, embarrassment, shame and confusion. It wasn't his fault that the wrong god was called to his house. Um, yes, well, Mr. Mercury. I am sorry for the trouble this may have caused, but… Don't, Mr. Mercury, me. I'm a freaking god, Aggie. I'm the son of Jupiter. I'm the fastest thing in winged high tops, bro. You don't call me Mr. You worship my ass. Middle managers are masters. I'm freaking divine, dude. Yes, of course you are. But I agree with all of that. It's just for what I need. I think the first. The door burst open and in walk to short man dressed in an impeccably tailored Italian suit talking on his phone. He held up a finger before anyone could say anything. I know that Tim wants Apple to return to its heyday, but he's got to put in the work too. As I said, I can bring my brother in and help with the design. Really revolutionize things. That liquid glass? Pure gimmick. Tim is going to have to dig deep if he doesn't want to end up with a power PC situation on his hands. The impeccably dressed man kept his finger up, staving off any interruptions. Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. Tell him if he's serious. He has my number. The man hung up and looked Aggie up and down. Aggie North? Ah. Yes. Good. I'm in the right place. Now before we get down to business, let's talk payment, shall we? I am partial to. The man looked at the other short man in the room. Oh, didn't see you there, Mercury. I wore things with you these days. Mercury scoffed. Didn't see me. Kiss my ass, Hermes. You clocked me the second you walked in. Did I? Maybe. Doesn't it really matter? What does matter is why you are here. This is a call for Hermes. Not his across the sea stolen knockoff. Across the sea stolen knockoff? Are you freaking kidding me with that crap? You are such a pompous ass, Hermes. Yes, well, such is the right of the original. Hermes smirked. He waved a handed Mercury in a shoeing gesture. Go on now. Time to let the real God get to work. At that way Casino Kelly broke his Arcasino ambassador. For all new customers, stake 20 pounds and get 150 free spins. Download the Betwake Casino app today. 18 plus season C's apply. Bet the responsible way. Gambleawair.org. Emers yourself in herbal essences new Moroccan organ oil elixir. Infused with pure organ oil, just one drop. Deliver us up to 100 hours of hair nourishment with the indulgent scent of a Moroccan garden. Herbal essences new Moroccan organ oil elixir. Spark quality hair repair without the price tag. Try it now. Herbal essences. Seffa's repaired his smoothness nourishment with regimen use versus non-conditioning shampoo. Thunder run out of breath. See? Dad agrees with me. That wasn't your dad. That was my pap saying you're full of sheep shit. Me? Full of sheep shit? At least I don't stick my armys his phone rang. And he held up a finger as he answered it. Go for her, mees. I'm not sure this is what I ordered. Aggie frowned from one god to the other. I was told that no dad I heard you, and I'll get her the message. Hermes roll his eyes, then cupped the phone and maved. Heratrable. My pap's doesn't have a hair problem because he's married to Juno. Right dad, I got it. Hermes tapped his foot impatiently. No dad, I didn't write it down. I don't need to. I'm the messenger of the gods. Remembering messages is sort of my thing. I always write down the important messages. Hermes flipped them off. No, really. I think I need to call the services again. This isn't what I wanted. Dad, I've got it. Now I'm conducting some business. So can I call you back later after I delivered the message? Hermes roll his eyes, beyond exasperated. Ah ha, yep, that too. Dad, I gotta go. Yep, yep, I'll be you too. Hermes hung up the phone, then scrunched up his face. What is that smell? Do you two smell that? It's a link. Your pap's did not tell you he loved you. Mercury shook his head. He'd never say that to you or any of his kids. Maybe your dad doesn't say it, but mine does. That's such a load of sheep shit. You know. What does that even mean? Guys? Guys? Aggie tried to cut in, but the two gods ignored him. Talk about sheep shit. Hermes looked Mercury up and down. Is that the tracksuit? Because that went out of style decades ago. It's a vintage. And better than that our money coffee you're wearing. Did you honestly think that was an original? I mean, come on man, look at that stitching. It's all wrong. Um, hey guys. Aggie shuffled his feet nervously as he rung his hands. Hello? Can we get back to my job? Oh, the aid is on human. Listen up Mercury. Try as hard as you want. You won't ever be up to my level. You're a stolen god taken millennia after I was brought into existence. You don't have the experience or the swagger that I've got. I was on my 10,000th pair of wind shoes by the time your people even set foot on the grease. And look what happened there. Your people got their asses conquered. Did not. Did so? The space program. Both gods turned slowly and clared to Aggie. What was that little man? The space program didn't exist when the rom conquered grease, dude. The rom didn't conquer shit, bitch. The space program, the Mercury space program. It was named after you, too. Aggie gave Hermes an apologetic look. Sorry. It came to mind, so I said it. Great. What a skill. Do you also announce to the room when you have to poop and pee pee? Hermes got in close to Aggie. How about you tell me what the job is? So we can start with the payment negotiations. You called? I came. No. I came. Yeah, well, he meant for me. Hermes cocked his head, then smirked as he raised both eyebrows. What's that in your ear? Is that blue tooth? How old is that? And don't tell me it's vintage, too. It works great. And gets perfect with a section no matter what environment I'm in. I've never had it unpaired from my phone ever. Not once. Mercury scaled. I've easily defensive about the tech. Hermes held his hands up in mock apology. Hey, old good pal. I mean, real business people these days don't use that crap. But if it works for you, that's just wonderful. Hermes takes a step to the side and looks behind Mercury. What are you looking at? Looking for your matching fanny back. The British call them bum bags, because fanny means vagina over there. Both gods frowned and locked eyes. An unspoken statement passing between them. You know what? I'm thinking this job is perfect for you, Mark. I'm sure this service has something much more important lined up for me. Nah, you can have this one. You were right. It was your job from the get-go. Simple misunderstanding. No, no, you take it. No, you take it. I don't want to take it. What should you do, man? Look at the guy. He's just your kind of client. They both looked at Aggie, condescending shark-toothed grins on their faces. Um, I'm confused. A minute ago, you were fighting over this job. Now you don't want it? Ah, that's where you're wrong, pal. We weren't fighting over this job specifically. We were just fighting. It's what we do when we run into each other. Mercury shrugged. I mean, you haven't even said what the job is yet. Peach isn't promising. Not at all. Not if you want to be successful in Gommert and make some serious coin. Which is what I specialize in. I am the God of commerce and coin. Through that brawl. Aggie's head was spinning. He couldn't keep track of which God was saying what, even though they were dressed differently and had different ways of speaking. The world seemed to swim. And all he could see was one God with two heads and four arms and four legs. And, hey, Aggie, you in there? Hermes snapped his fingers in Aggie's face. Then he waved his hand in front of his own face. No, seriously. What does that smell? I smelled it as soon as I came inside. Mercury raised a nibrow with Aggie. It really stinks, man. Is your septic backed up or something? I'm on city sewer. So no. Aggie sighed. What you are smelling is the reason you are both here. Although I only wanted one of you. Me. Hermes hooked a thum at his own chest. I'm the one you wanted. Let's be clear on that. Yes, true. But really, I think either of you would do. Aggie walked toward the kitchen. If you'll follow me, I'll show you what will change everything as we know it. That's a bold statement, Aggie. You'd better be able to back it up. Mercury added. So I'll back it up. This is going to blow your minds. Aggie led them into the kitchen and over to a single door. Behind this door is something unlike even you two have ever seen. A basement? I've seen a basement. No, no, not a basement. Aggie frowned. Well, yes, it's my basement. But it's what's down in the basement that is going to change it all. And when you say it's all, you mean what exactly? Be precise, Aggie. Have neither of you been listening to me? The two gods looked at each other and shrugged. Aggie rubbed his forehead. I have created something so revolutionary that eventually people will cease to remember a day when my invention didn't exist. Aggie opened the door and both gods took steps back. Their hands covering their noses. Zoos! Jupiter, man. What is that? You sure you want a city sewer? Because that smells like Hades' cesspit. It's not that bad. Aggie reached through the doorway and switched on a dim, overhead bulb that hung above rickety wooden stairs. Yeah, man. I'm not going down there. I've seen this horror movie. You're a god-merkery. What can you possibly be afraid of? Her name is laughed. Then the laugh died away. With that said, you got here first. So you should go down first. Not a chance in the underworld, man. You go first. I'll go first. And you two can follow. Aggie started down the stairs. The two gods rolled their eyes. Then poof. They were gone and at the bottom of the stairs. Beep-yup. Oddly. Aggie gripped the stairs railing. His legs weak from the sudden sight of both gods below him. Okay, hold on. I have to unlock the door. Can you hurry it up, man? Yeah. We both have shit to do. You have to deliver a message to her. I already did that while you were shaking in your neck, Ethan. No, you didn't. I felt a sonic pressure. That's the difference between us, Mark. People know when you come and go. But with me, I'm so smooth. You never notice. Oh? Is that what hekety says after you leave her bed? Hey, you okay back at this name out of your mouth, pal? What? Guys, stop. Look. Aggie moved at the basement's far wall and slid a large barn door to the side. The stench instantly quadrupled. Behold. Pigs with wings. Both gods stopped talking instantly. Neither seemed able to comprehend what they were seeing or what Aggie had said. Pretty cool, right? He walked through the door and over to a set of pens that held miniature pigs with, well, wings. Everyone has always chicken wings this, chicken wings that. But no one thinks of the other white meat, do they? Pork. So I decided to genetically engineer pot-bellied pigs down to a reasonable size and then get them to grow wings. Wings? Why? Like I said, because we needed something other than chicken wings to eat. Big wings are perfect. They cook up better, dry out less, and have a deeper, more robust flavor due to the gaming nature that pot-bellied pigs have. Pot-bellied pigs are bats, man. Mercury looked a little green around the collar of his tracksuit. Yeah, I've eaten some strange things, including the nether regions of a gorgon. But this is a step too far. And also an affront to nature and all she has created. You're playing God-mat, which is fine for you now. Gods to do, but not for humans. Never humans. Never humans. The gods sighed in unison and looked at each other. We should stop this. Probably best. What? No. I called this service so I could have helped with the marketing and messaging of the brand new, wait for it. Camel wings. Um, what? Did you say, camel wings? I'm still workshopping the name. Aggie looked slightly embarrassed. If you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it. You are the experts in messaging. Yeah, well, that is true. Hold on. Why camel wings? They're pigs. Chicken wings are called buffalo wings, so I thought I'd go in a direction like that. I also thought of elk wings or hippo wings. Why? Yeah. Why any of those names? And why even do this? I do not say because there are already chicken wings. There was a clatter in one of the pens and a single pig, its tiny wings beating like a hummingbirds lifted up off the soiled muck at the basement floor. Hold on. They can fly. Um, I guess so. Aggie's eyes went wide with wonder as two more started to flutter up toward the basement's rafters. They've never done that before. Dear chew butter man. Do you know what you've done? Do you know how many curses, wishes, wants, a dream, its contracts, and just playing bullshit are predicted on pigs flying? Do you Aggie? Do you? Immediately. Hermes Von Rang and Mercury's Bluetooth buzzed. Yeah, we know. I'm standing at ground zero. Pigs are freaking flying. No. Do not go anywhere. I'll be right there and tell Mars to calm down. This is not the end times. These are the small mists up. The two gods were gone before Aggie could say another word. Then he heard the explosions and felt the rumble of the earth. Somewhere far off, people screamed. The flying pigs oinked, then lost their balance and fell back into the pen. Don't take it personally, my little miracles. No one understands you like I do. Aggie leaned on the pen, inside, as outside, the world started to burn. And I didn't even get to tell them about all the sauces I invented. SCP-8479 is a service that allows members of the public to temporarily summon Godlike or daistic entities in exchange for payment, favors, or other forms of compensation. By dialing a specific 10-digit number on any device capable of two-way verbal communication, callers are connected to an operator who helps select an appropriate entity for their request. Once an agreement is made, the chosen entity manifests near the caller, completes the requested task within a set time limit after payment is accepted, and then de-manifests returning to its prior location. Notably, an qualifying daistic entity is already contained by the foundation will automatically breach containment to fulfill these requests. But will reliably return to containment once the interaction concludes.