 Darkness loomed over the streets of Night City. The shadows casting long shadows over the cracked asphalt pavement. The city's dark darkness lurking deep within its shriveled black hearts, as black as pitch, and as shriveled as the lungs of a chain-smoking sailor. Joe Night penned the girl up against the wall, his ugly slobbering face sneering as he sneeringly pulled up her skirt. Don't worry, he sneered. I'll make sure this hurts a lot. I'm a rapist. This is what I do. Raping things like that. It was then that he was clobbered by a bowl of chowder, steaming hot and packed with delicious clams and white potatoes, cooked just to firmness, with quite a few celery beds as well to give a snappin' flavor. It was New England clam chowder, with a figure who stood on the rooftop wearing a black apron and a tall chef's hat made of black cloth, blacker than the blackest the blacks that a black-wearing god-kid would wear at midnight, was not fond of tomatoes in his clam chowder, and considered an aberration, nay, a heresy, which must be purged. Joe Knife screamed in pain as he raised his gun and fired it at the rooftop, but the black-clad, mysterious figure was too fast for him and vanished in a flash of black cloth. Come out! he screamed. Who the hell are you? Where the fuck are you coming from? Right here. Said a voice, and it pounded him in the back of the skull with a ladle. Joe Knife grabbed the back of his head. Ow! That hurts! He shouted. And you didn't answer my question. Who are you? The name is Cliff. He said. Chowder, Cliff, Defender of the World. Chowder, Cliff, Defender of the World. Chapter 1. The badass and the hot chicks who want to bone him, or be boned by him. Site-19 was in a tizzy. Oh, no! shouted Dr. Right. Oh, the SCPs are out of their pinch! I'll save you! said Dr. Cliff, and he ran into the room with a shotgun. Oh, no! said SCP-682. It is Cliff. He gung to kill us. Ha, ha, ha! said Dr. Cliff, and he shot at SCP-682 with his shotgun rocket missiles. Arggh! shouted SCP-682, and it fell down and was dead. You saved us! said Dr. Right, and she kissed him. Then they had sex. The SCP Foundation would fall apart without Dr. Cliff here, said Dr. Gears, and he gave Cliff a promotion to O5. Whenever one of Site-19, Dr. Cliff was just a mild-mannered researcher, an ordinary guy like any other. But Dr. Cliff had the secrets. At night, when the rest of Site-19 was asleep, he put on a black chef's toke and a black acorn, and he went to the Site-19 kitchen and he made a big pot of clam chowder. Then he went to Gotham City or Night City or Metropolis, and he fought crime. He was Chowder Cliff, Defendeeer of the Innocent and the Protector of the World. This see his story. I'm sorry to call you away from your work on such short notice. Always glad to have out a senior staff member, what can I do for you? I have a question for you, do you remember this? But of course, how could I forget? It took me hours to type in this report. Please read the report again. Alright, it seems in order-way- oh my god. Vanessa Danielle hardly picked up her tray of food and walked over to the lunchroom table. Halfway there, she felt something grab her backpack and pull her down. She stumbled and fell, scattering her milk and spaghetti all over the front of her shirt. Alexis Ebelmier sneered at her. Nice job, nerd, she said, flouncing her stringy blonde hair. It looks good on you. She laughed and walked away, accompanied by the other popular researchers, who sat around with all of the jocks at their own table, gossiping about something stupid and lame. Vanessa whimpered and knelt there on the lunchroom floor. A single tear rolled down her face and splashed onto the food. Get the hell up and clean it up, the lunch lady said, and Vanessa slowly got to her feet and started to gather up the fallen food. Here, a soft, gentle voice said, let me help. She looked up into the face of the most handsome man she had ever seen. His eyes were limpid blue, green and brown orbs, their sparkling hues warming her heart, and his perfect white skin peaked from under the collar of his immaculate white lab coat. A broad smile on his face as he carefully wiped the tear from her cheek and licked it off the tip of his finger. Beautiful girl shouldn't cry, he said. I'm not beautiful, Vanessa mumbled. I think you are. I've thought so for a long time, Dr. Clef said. I've watched you for a very long time, you know. He picked her up off the ground and carried her away, while Alexis and her stupid friends looked on jealously. Are you sure this is a good idea? Vanessa whispered. I mean, what have the other senior staff seen? Fuck the senior staff. Love is greater than this. Clef growled, and he started to take off her blouse. But first, you need to know something. He whispered into her ear. Anything? Gasp, Vanessa. Late at night, Clef uttered, I put on a black hat and apron and fight crime as Chowder Clef. My God, how far has it spread? As far as we can tell to all of your records, everything from your personnel files to your reports to your SCP articles. This is ridiculous. How could anyone believe any of this? X-G-O-C Sniper? I was a clerk. My God, I'd never been anywhere near a gun. Much less used one. They're like, bad. Bad fanfiction? Yes. SCP-732 is known to do that. Can a record be retrieved? Perhaps, but it will take a while. Some of them may never be completely restored. My God, all those years of work, all that data, reduced to the testosterone-laced ramblings of a pre-teen violence obsessed? I'm sorry, Dr. Clef. I really am. Die, you motherfuckers! Clef screamed, and he blazed away with his twin Pancor jackhammers, filling the air with lead. The zombies exploded in the showers of gore, splatter in blood and internal organs across the walls. Keep killing them, you fuckers! Don't let them get around us! Sir! Screamed Scrawl to Cobb. The damn Chechen zombies are coming through the walls! Fuck that! Kill them all! Clef roared. He threw down his twin Pancor jackhammers and grabbed a pair of Mateva auto revolvers, firing off the exotic .38 caliber weapons of Kimbo as he dove under cover. Grenade out! A whole band of lyric grenades flew over the desk and landed in the middle of the group of zombies, turning them into chunks of writhing flesh. It's over, Dimitri said. No! Not yet! Clef snarled. He put on a black chef's hat and an apron. The criminal scum who did this is still out there. We must bring him to justice. I'll go with you, Dimitri said. No! I must do this alone! grievous Clef. Shouter Clef always works alone. Alice screamed with pleasure. Shouter Clef? Oh, God, I love you! She screamed as she came. Shouter Clef's massive throbbing. Fire photon torpedoes shouted Captain Picard. The USS Shouter Clef raced with the Romulan invaders, firing a massive stream of photon torpedoes and quantum phasers, launching X-wing fighters and Mk-11 vipers and massive- Shouter for the Shouter Clef! Potatoes for the Splatthrobes! Screamed a chaos space marine as he. Is there anything I can do to help? No, I think I'll be fine, but as long as the initial infection is gone, we should be fine. You seem to be taking this well. It is actually pretty funny, and I must admit, this other Doctor Clef seems to have a much more interesting life than I do. Instead of being cooped up in a lab, he seems to be living the life of some kind of action-movie star, killing, sorry, what's the word 732 used, decommissioning SCPs, claiming to be Satan? He's actually quite the badass. Isn't that the truth? Some personnel claim that we should keep these older files simply for entertainment purposes at least. The originals will have to be restored, of course, but of course, in any case, that's all. Oh yes, in here. Ah, thank you, I wonder where they'd gone off to. I wouldn't want you to lose them, after all, you'll need these if you want to fight crime as Shouter Clef.