Michael Fionn MacCreedy

[DM-Tareth]

Name: Michael Fionn MacCreedy

Age: 41

Country: USA (Pacific Northwest)

Profession: Small town mechanic

Appearance: Medium cropped, rust red hair frames a weathered, pale face only slightly darkened despite hours spent in the high desert sun. His beard and mustache are well kept, but gray is already creeping in despite still be relatively young. Grease and engine grim spots his hands and occasionally his forehead where he unconsciously tried to wipe away a bit of midday sweat. He smells of soap and gasoline except when he's been out riding in the mountains and wild country outside of town when he then smells of sweat, dust, and horse. His clothes, simple jeans, light shirt and heavy Carhartt jacket are all well kept but also well worn and on their last legs.

Personality: Prior to 'the incident' Fionn was an outgoing and well liked member of the small town Elgin where he'd grown up on his parents ranch. He'd supported the local high school football team, went to the church breakfast fundraiser, and volunteered for the wilderness rescue team. His wife passed following complication giving birth to his only daughter. A fisherman and rider, he often spent just as much time in the wild as his did beneath the old Ford truck he kept running through shear grit and determination. Following his encounter in the desert and his subsequent arrest, Fionn has become much more quiet. Voices plague him at times causing the occasional outburst or deep dive into a whiskey bottle. Yet, buried beneath the questions, fear, and pain of losing everything including his daughter's memory of him, he is still generous and willing to help out those in need. Perhaps too often and too much. He still claims his own innocence, but doesn't talk about it to others since the record's been wiped clean. Yet for his own sanity, he still wants to figure out what happened on that dusty, hot summer evening.

Rough background (Still very draft): Things went very bad when one late August evening a quite attractive woman came into his shop in need of someone to "Take a look at her car that had broken down only a couple miles down the road." Happy and willing to help, he grabbed his toolbox and hopped in his beat up Ford and drove off. The two hit it off during the drive, but he'd no idea that who he was talking to was actually the girlfriend of MTF Leader, [REDACTED]. Nor did he know she was part of Research Branch [REDACTED] and currently conducting experiments on SCP-[REDACTED].

The events upon arriving at the clearing alongside a desolate side road off Highway 395 are still unclear. He remembers little, but suffers from flashbacks of that night and occasionally still hears the voices of the family he supposedly killed and tried to bury among the juniper and sage. Given evidence found at the scene, including his truck, toolbox, and his own blood stained clothes, he went to prison. All the while he maintained his innocence, which is actually true. The reality is that he was set up by [REDACTED] in order to protect [REDACTED] after her initial experiments went terribly wrong resulting in the rather gruesome loss of an entire D-Squad posing as a family of campers. It was also an act of petty jealousy.

The only one who believed him was his daughter who continued to try and find out what actually happened. A determined, small town reporter, Rebecca MacCreedy(now Rebecca Cooper following a recent marriage) she started to get close to the cover up and truth. The mind wipe she underwent ended that particular threat but did lead to Fionn's release and joining SCP.

[DM-Tareth]

Human Resources File Addendum

RE: Michael Fionn MacCreedy Personnel File Addendum.

Approved by: [REDACTED]

Security Clearance: Level 2 (Restricted)

File Addendum A

SCP Foundation Subject Interview - Michael Fionn MacCreedy

Security Level: 2

Date of Interview:  [REDACTED]

Location: [REDACTED]

Subject Description:  D-Class, human, mundane.  ID# 7429006.

Known Anomalies:  None.  See notes of Research Director [REDACTED].

Lead Interviewer:  Dr. Adrian Reich, Lead Pychoanomally Exposure Analyst, Section [REDACTED]

 

<<BEGIN LOG

 

Dr. Reich:  Why don’t we start off by you telling me a little bit about yourself Michael?

 

MacCreedy:  Call me Fionn.  Only my parents call me Michael….nobody calls me Mike.

 

Dr. Reich:  Okay.  Sure.  Fionn.  Why don’t you tell me about yourself?

 

MacCreedy:  What do you want to know?  

 

Dr. Reich:  How about where did you grow up?  What was it like?

 

MacCreedy:  Huh…okay.  We gonna make this all about my parents?

 

Dr.  Reich:  No.  Nothing like that, it just helps paint a picture for me.  

 

MacCreedy:  Sure.  It’s your dime.  So where did I grow up?  Same place where I stopped livin’.  A little backwater, nowhere town in northeastern Oregon called Elgin.  Quiet place.  Not much happens there unless you consider Pastor Henderson’s cattle blockin’ the main road again big news.  It’s home to a few hundred god fearin’, hard workin’ souls who scowl at outsiders, fret about incomers, and are generally ornery about any kind of change that’s taken place in the last hun’nurd years or so.  

 

Grew up ranchin’ the land my family’d owned since before the turn of the last century.   Cattle, horses, alfalfa and a few other crops.  My folks were good people until the world broke ‘em. 

 

Dr. Reich:  Broke them?  What do you mean?  

 

MacCreedy:  Heh…you know what I mean doc.  T’ain’t nobody lives to get gray hair like yours who hasn’t experienced a few knocks now and then.  It’s just my folks…my family…got tossed a few more than their fair share.  Mind if I have a glass of water?

 

Dr. Reich:  Go right ahead.

 

MacCreedy:  Thanks.  *water pouring into a glass, someone drinking*  The first punch was my oldest brother, Matt.  He was big as a horse.  Always saw the good in folk.  Kind.  Everyone called him a big teddy bear.  Well despite his kindly nature, he got bit by the patriotic bug and signed up for a turn in the army.   He was killed fightin’ the war on terror on the other side of the world.

 

My other brother James lost his leg to a combine.  Just some freak accident, but it took his leg and his will to live at the same moment.  Eventually he gave in to the needle.  Died of an overdose in a trash bin behind Earl’s bar.  

 

But it was what happened to my sister Mary that eventually put mama in the ground.  Mary was a pretty girl.  Pretty and one of the finest at growing things as anyone’d seen in those parts for a mighty long time.  Ole Man Tate who lived just up the valley from us used to say Mary could coax fresh green grass to grow in the middle of the Sahara Desert.  Unfortunately, all that plant sense didn’t translate to man sense.  The girl went and got herself married to a real bastard.  Lester Biggs.   A big drinker, a big user.  A big bully.  A good lookin’, no good, loser just like the rest of his family.  He got her hooked on everything.  Put her on the internet for everyone to see.  Used her right up…until there was almost nothing left.  

 

*more water pouring*

 

I’d finally convinced her to leave.   To get clean and start over.  But somehow he’d found out.  He was waitin’ on that day when I pulled up in the truck.   Stepped out from behind their shed and put a bullet in my leg as soon as I put a foot on the ground.   Mary came runnin’ out screamin’ at him as she knelt down next to me.  She grabbed my hand, pressed her kerchief on my leg and he shot her…four times right in the back.  *several seconds of silence*

 

Dr. Reich:  Do you need a few moments Fionn?  

 

MacCreedy:  Eh?  Oh…no.  It’s just that sometimes I can still feel her blood hitting my face.  Her body slumping across mine.  Her last whispered, breathless words.  “I’m so sorry Mikey.  Tell mama and papa I’m so sorry.”  *silence followed by the sound of sipping water*

 

I honestly can’t tell you why he left me alive.  But instead of finishing me off, Biggs, he just laughed and went back in the house.   Mrs. Riley next door had heard the shots and called the sheriff.  They got me to the hospital.  Arrested him while watching old reruns of Miami Vice.   Like I said, he was a real loser.

 

Dr. Reich:  That must have been a terrible experience.  Was it after that you starting hearing the voices?

 

MacCreedy:  *snort*  You go through somethin’ like that and tell me it doesn’t mess you up just a little doc.  But yeah, it was after I got outta the hospital that Mary first came callin.  

 

Dr. Reich:  Came calling?  Why don’t you tell me a little about that?

 

MacCreedy:  Isn’t much to tell really.  More just dreams really.  At first it was just Mary callin’ out to me as if she were lost or confused.  Scared.  I’d tried callin’ back to her, but she could never quite hear me.  To be honest, I never could quite understand what she was sayin’ to me either.  At least at first.  That started to change after mother died.

 

You see, after Mary, ma just sort of withered up and blew away like an old autumn leaf.  Barely ate anymore.  Barely left the house.  Pop wasn’t much help.  While ma retreated inside, he took himself outside and buried himself in work.  Doin’ his best to keep the place outta the bank’s hands.  All the while I was laid up, gimpin’ around on one good leg.  I was the only child of theirs still livin’, but might as well have gone to the other side with the others for all either of my folks could spare.  Honestly, I don’t really blame them.  Grief can be a terrible thing.  And what happened to our family could’ve broke anyone.

 

I was the one who found ma.  I’d been upstairs in my room sleeping.  Another dream where Mary had been callin’ out to me.  Pushin’ me to get up.  To hurry, hurry, hurry.  I woke up and had to pee.  Figured my brain was just keepin’ me from wettin’ the bed like some toddler.  Still, I couldn’t shake a feeling that somethin’ else had happened, so I went downstairs.  

 

There she was.  Just sitting there in her rockin’ chair facin’ out toward the mountains.  She was holdin’ a picture of all us kids.  She’d been cryin’.  But now there was such a look of peace on her face.  Doctor’s couldn’t really say why my mother had died, but I knew it was because she’d just decided to step away from it all.  Guess having only one out of four kids still around, just wasn’t enough to keep her here.  Like I said, grief is a terrible thing.

 

Dr. Reich:  So you said your dreams started to change after your mother passed away?

 

MacCreedy:  *sipping water*  I know what you’re tryin’ to get at doc.  I know you’re tryin’ to get me to admit it was Mary talkin’ to me.  Or my own mind trickin’ me into thinkin’ Mary was talkin’ to me and that’s why those people ended up dead out there in the woods.  Well it ain’t gonna work doc.  *a hand slaps the table*  

 

I know no one believes me, but I didn’t kill those folks.  I don’t know what the hell happened out there.  *more pounding on the table*  But Mary tried her best to save me.  Save them!  That much I know, even if the rest of it has flown the coop.  

 

Dr. Reich:  Why don’t you calm down Mr. MacCreedy.  I’m not here to accuse you of….

 

MacCreedy:  Like hell you ain’t.  You’re like all the others.  Lookin’ down at poor delusional MacCreedy.  The killer who just won’t admit it.  I’m tellin’ ya!  It wasn’t me!  I didn’t even know those poor folk!  I had no reason to go after them.

 

Dr. Reich:   Now you know that’s not true Fionn.  *shuffling of papers*  It’s right here in the transcripts and your prison files.  There’s a record here of twenty-seven different times you have been told that the people killed were Suzie Biggs, younger sister to Lester Biggs.  Her boyfriend, Juan.  Her cousins, Tate and Junior Biggs.  

 

You knew them.  You knew that killing Suzie would get back at Lester and his family for what happened to your sister Mary.  You knew exactly what you were doing when you followed them out there to where everyone used to go drinking and target shooting at the gravel pit.  This whole story about some mysterious woman with a broken down car and a creature or some other spirit out of some indian legend or ghost story is just that, a story.  

 

MacCreedy:  NO!  No!  You’re lyin’!  I ain’t never heard any of this before.  I didn’t know who was out there.  I don’t know what the hell happened.  I didn’t DO IT!  AHHH!  *sound of glass shattering against a wall followed by alarms*

 

END LOG>>

 

[DM-Tareth]

 

 

Micheal Fionn MacCreedy

ST: 11 | DX: 12 | IQ: 11 | HT: 10 | Will: 11(13) | PER: 11 | Speed: 5.5

HP: 11/11 | FP: 10/10 | Dodge: 8 | Parry: 12 (Brawling) / 9 (Knife) | Thr: 1d-1 | Sw: 1d+1

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