Summary: Mr. Money had his secrets. Usually, they weren’t that dark, yet... When Mr. Hot is sent to interview his little brother, he discovers that Mr. Money wasn’t as he seemed.
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“Dr. Lydia! What a surprise!” Mr. Hot said as the white-coated woman walked into his chamber. “How’re the kids?”
“They’re fine, SCP-644,” she said calmly. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Not a friendly visit, I see?” Hot said, leaning forward. “Please, have a sit.”
She sat on the chair in front of him, pulling out a bunch of papers and putting them on the table, handing them to Mr. Hot. He read them carefully, then looked back at her.
“You want me to interview Mr. Money?” Mr. Hot asked.
“Yes.” she said. “You see, we already know about most of his previous owners. Even the one he had... well... an affair with.”
“The business owner guy,” Hot said. “Yeah, Money told me about him.”
“He told us about all but one owner.” she said. “Whenever we try to ask him about them, he’s getting... anxious. As if something bad happened.”
“So why do you need me?” Mr. Hot asked.
“As much as we know, you’re the closest sibling to him.” Dr. Lydia said. “And I assume you don’t have any information about his seventh owner as well.”
“Never told me about ‘em.” Mr. Hot said.
“So maybe if you’ll get him to open up, we might get some info.” she said. “And YOU will get to spend more time with your brother.”
Mr. Hot was quiet for a second, thinking about it more. He then shook her hand with a smile.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Dr. Lydia.” he said.
----
Mr. Money was lying on his bed, humming to himself, when Mr. Hot walked in. He got up from the bed and hugged him.
“How’s it going, little guy?” Mr. Hot asked.
“Tired...” Mr. Money asked. “Haven’t slept.”
“Nightmares?” Mr. Hot asked.
“Y-yeah, but...” Mr. Money said. “Y-you won’t understand...”
“Why not?” Mr. Hot asked.
“N-no reason...” Mr. Money said as he sat down on the bed.
“Mon, you know I care about you.” Mr. Hot said. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“But then you’ll be mad.” Mr. Money said.
“I won’t be mad.” Mr. Hot said.
“You promise?” Mr. Money asked.
Mr. Hot sat next to him, giving him a calming smile.
“I promise.” he said.
Mr. Money went silent for a second, before taking a deep breath and started talking.
“My seventh owner wasn’t great.” Mr. Money said. “I mean, most of my previous owners were bad, but this one was... a nightmare.”
Mr. Hot began to worry. What did he do to his little brother?
“He was... abusive, in every way possible. Forced me to do things, humiliated me...” Mr. Money said. “I was... I was scared.”
“Oh, god...” Mr. Hot said.
“Now, do you know the three rules of robotics according to Isaac Asimov?” Mr. Money asked. “The first one is that a robot must not injure a human being. The second one is that a robot must obey orders as long as it doesn’t conflict with the first one. The third is that a robot must protect its own existence, as long as it doesn’t conflict with the first or the second rules.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Mr. Hot asked.
“We are not exactly humans, Hot.” Mr. Money said. “Some would say we are machines. Robots. And I, a ‘robot’, broke all of these rules.”
An eerie silence filled the room. That was a plot twist Mr. Hot never saw it coming.
“One day, I just snapped.” Mr. Money said. “I knew that if I won’t act I might die... that it was him or me...”
Mr. Money’s hands began to shake.
“He told me to grab something from the kitchen, and I did. Just... not what he asked.” Mr. Money said. “I remember taking my sweet time. First, choosing the perfect knife... then getting his security out of the picture... and when I got him alone, I just...”
“You stabbed him?” Mr. Hot guessed.
“A few times.” Mr. Money said. “Not only him, though. The security, the secretary, his asshole friend... and... I feel bad because... because...”
“Because...?” Mr. Hot asked.
Mr. Money’s eyes teared up. He was shaking and sobbing.
“Because it felt... good...” he sobbed. “When I felt his blood on my hands... I felt free for the first time... Oh god...”
Mr. Hot grabbed him and pulled him into a hug.
“Am I a bad person, Hot?” Mr. Money asked, sobbing onto his shoulder.
“No.” Mr. Hot said. “We all had to do bad things in order to survive. Even Brass, Even Sweetie, Even me. The fact that you’re worried about those feelings means that you’re a good person. You just snapped.”
“But murder is bad, Hot...” Mr. Money said. “I felt good about murdering people! Even the secretary who did absolutely nothing! I-”
“Do you regret it?” Mr. Hot asked.
“Y-yeah...” Mr. Money said.
“Have you attacked any other owner?” Mr. Hot asked.
“No.” Mr. Money said. “I even tried to get as far as I can from sharp things.”
“See? You’re trying to stop yourself from harming anyone.” Mr. Hot asked. “You’re a good guy.”
Mr. Money remained silent.
“Sometimes good people must do bad things in order to make the world better.” Mr. Hot said. “I just wish you could’ve told me sooner.”
“I’m sorry.” Mr. Money said. “I was scared you’ll get mad at me.”
“Dude, we are the Little Misters.” Mr. Hot said. “If one of us haven’t committed one of the seven deadly sins, we’d be surprised.”
Mr. Money giggled.
“Man, now the foundation’s gonna make us all Keter.” he said.
