hopoffZ

The Bureaucrat

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Euclid.

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is currently contained in the Euclid Humanoid Containment Wing at Site-19. SCP-XXXX-1 is to be kept in a well-furnished room resembling an American Congressional Committee boardroom. SCP-XXXX-2 through 9 are to arrive at this room, well-dressed, every day at 8 AM local time, and leave at 5 PM local time. Additionally, SCP-XXXX-1 is to be provided one (1) laptop with extremely limited and monitored internet access, four thousand (4000) sheets of 8" x 11" generic paper, forty (40) ballpoint pens (half black, half blue,) and any additional stationary it requests, after approval by Head Researcher Loucas.

If Event-XXXX-F is to occur, a new D-class personnel is to be immediately provided to SCP-XXXX-1. This D-class is to be immediately reclassified as whichever instance of SCP-XXXX it is replacing.

At no point should SCP-XXXX be permitted knowledge of current political or global events. Any and all news or information it requests should be fabricated in order to suit whatever belief Head Researcher Loucas intends to lead SCP-XXXX-1 into. SCP-XXXX-1 should be led to believe, every nine months, that it has been "re-elected."

Description: SCP-XXXX-1 was initially discovered shortly after a Foundation undercover agent ceased communication in the small town of ██████, Montana. MTF Iota-10 was deployed to investigate, and found the agent to have been converted into an instance of SCP-XXXX, as he had come into contact with SCP-XXXX-1 when it had been planning to run for local election. All nine (9) instances were taken into Foundation custody for further research.

Researcher Loucas, (now Head Researcher Loucas) was assigned to determine safe containment procedures for SCP-XXXX and immediately found that the most effective method is leading SCP-XXXX to believe that it has been elected as an American Senator.

SCP-XXXX-1 was then provided several D-Class personnel, seven (7) of whom were then converted into SCP-XXXX-2 through 9.

SCP-XXXX-1 appears to be a human male of approximately forty (40) years of age. It has an obsession with governmental and bureaucratic proceedings, and has been successfully convinced, in order to prevent its conversion of more persons into SCP-XXXX instances, that it is the Chairman of a Congressional Committee for the Management of the Congressional Oversight Committee, which oversees the Congressional Committee for Oversight of the Congressional Committee of National Parks Services Oversight.

Up until its containment, SCP-XXXX-1 had managed to convert several members of its family, friends, and neighbors into instances of SCP-XXXX, which then proceeded to attempt to form a Homeowners' Association for the entirety of Montana. This was the platform of SCP-XXXX-1's campaign for local Mayor.

SCP-XXXX-1, along with the ability to create more instances of SCP-XXXX, is fully incapable of achieving anything important in any time less than two (2) years. In the time that SCP-XXXX-1 has been in containment, believing to be the Chairman of a committee made entirely of SCP-XXXX instances, the "committee" has continued to astonish researchers by accomplishing absolutely nothing, even when presented with extremely important issues or events to discuss and solve. As this effect, if spread, could lead to a complete halt in progress made by the Foundation, SCP-XXXX-1 must be provided D-Class personnel immediately upon occurrence of Event XXXX-F.

Event XXXX-F was first observed on ██/██/20██, when SCP-XXXX-1 became enraged by SCP-XXXX-3's refusal to vote "Yea" on a bill that would change three words on the waiver forms required for entry to the American Persian Gulf National Park (which does not exist,) and immediately moved to remove SCP-XXXX-3 from the committee. All other instances of SCP-XXXX voted "Yea," and SCP-XXXX-3 vanished. It is unknown what became of SCP-XXXX-3. SCP-XXXX-1 then became extremely anxious, and Head Researcher Loucas immediately requested a new D-Class personnel to be provided to SCP-XXXX-1 to replace SCP-XXXX-3. This satisfied SCP-XXXX-1, and the "committee" returned to normal proceedings.

Notable Incidents:

The Biography that Writes Itself

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Euclid Safe Euclid.

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX-1 and SCP-XXXX-2 are to be contained in a locked, secure lead container at Site 45 in the Euclid Objects Containment Wing. All personnel lacking Level 3 or above clearance and signed permission from an on-site psychologist should be prevented from accessing SCP-XXXX. SCP-XXXX-1 should be activated by a D-class after conclusion of any testing. SCP-XXXX-1 is to be activated by an unaware civilian with no knowledge of the Foundation at the end of any and all testing by Foundation personnel, as to prevent its listing of classified information. SCP-XXXX-1 should be left in its current state. All access is prohibited. SCP-XXXX-1 is currently occupied with the life story of civilian [DATA EXPUNGED] and should remain in this state until further notice.

Description: SCP-XXXX was aquired from an antique shop in [REDACTED] city by MTF Pi-1, “City Slickers.”

SCP-XXXX is made up of two inanimate objects- SCP-XXXX-1 and SCP-XXXX-2. SCP-XXXX-1 is a innocuous leather-bound book with no outer markings, and remains blank when not activated by use of SCP-XXXX-2. SCP-XXXX-2 is a silver ball-point pen, also without outer markings, that when contacted with bare skin activates SCP-XXXX-1. The pen does not have any discernable changes when contacted, however, SCP-XXXX-1 will immediately open, and appear filled with writing. Text is handwritten, and matches the handwriting of whatever subject came into contact with SCP-XXXX-2. This text remains until next activation.

Testing has shown that contact, and subsequent activation, of SCP-XXXX causes no outward physical affects upon the subject, however, it poses severe psychological risks, should the subject be permitted to then view SCP-XXXX-1. should the subject not have previous knowledge of Foundation activity.

The text listed in SCP-XXXX-1 upon activation is composed of a complete and detailed story of the subject’s life, beginning at birth and ending only after death and subsequent description of the subject’s legacy and effect on those close to the subject. The future of the life of the subject is listed with perfect detail, however, the subject’s future makes a noticeable change- SCP-XXXX-2 involves itself in the subject’s life. Subjects develop an interest in pens, and will collect ballpoints, eventually looking to obtain an exact copy of SCP-XXXX-2. Any and all contact with SCP-XXXX-2 is strictly forbidden, as it will cause a progressing obsession with all forms of writing, combined with an inexplicably detailed knowledge of all Foundation activities. It is theorized that the story listed in SCP-XXXX-1 will, without fail, induce knowledge of Foundation activities. This has very little effect on Foundation personnel, however, when SCP-XXXX-1 is activated by a civilian with no knowledge of the Foundation, the subject will experience extreme psychosis after a period of several months. This poses a severe risk of a security breach, and as such, SCP-XXXX should not be exposed to civilians under any circumstances.

Addendum XXXX-1: Request for demotion to Object Class: Safe.

-Request approved.

Addendum XXXX-2: After Incident XXXX-D, SCP-XXXX has been returned to Object Class Euclid by order of Site Director [REDACTED] due to severe security risk through leak of classified information, and psychological risks to subjects.

Addendum XXXX-3: Any and all testing is to fully cease by order of Site Director █████.

TEST LOGS

Test A - █/█/20██

Researcher(s): Researcher █████

Subject: One (1) D-Class Male, history of violent crime, questionable mental stability.

Procedure: Subject instructed to enter room with SCP-XXXX-1 and -2 present on a desk. Subject sits at desk and is instructed to pick up, and then place back down, SCP-XXXX-2. Subject then instructed to open, and read, SCP-XXXX-1.

Results: Upon contact with SCP-XXXX-2, subject appears slightly concerned, but shakes it off quickly. When asked over intercom the reason for this, subject responds, telling Researchers that he does not know.

Subject then opens SCP-XXXX-1, and promptly begins reading.

Immediately, subject is visibly shaken by the detail with which the object describes his past. The subject repeatedly questions the researchers, who do not respond. At page five-hundred and fifty-three, (553), which was later found to describe the events currently occurring during this test, subject becomes extremely concerned and anxious. Subject repeatedly asks "Why are there only, like, 20 pages left? Guys?" Researchers instruct the subject to continue reading. Subject reads another four (4) pages, and then becomes enraged, hurling SCP-XXXX-1 away from himself, and yelling angrily at the researchers. Subject terminated. Examination of later video evidence shows that subject ceased reading upon learning of events that were about to transpire, which were described in graphic detail.

Test A - █/█/20██

Researcher(s): Senior Researcher █████, Researcher ████, Researcher ████

Subject(s): Researcher ████

Procedure: Researcher ████ volunteered to act as a test subject in order to determine whether SCP-XXXX poses a security threat to the Foundation. Procedures match those described in Test Log A.

Results: As expected, initial events and activation of SCP-XXXX by Researcher ████ follow those expected, however, Researcher ████ is instructed not to read any and all information after present-day. Information in book includes sensitive information pertaining to Foundation activities. SCP-XXXX is contained in higher security until it is determined whether or not an unknowing civilian can be used to "reset" SCP-XXXX.
This test also results in the discovery of SCP-XXXX's permanent effects, as it involves itself in the affected subject's life. Researcher ████ develops a pen-collecting hobby, and is honorably discharged from research involving SCP-XXXX as to prevent further effects.

Test C - █/█/20██

Researcher(s): Researcher ████, Researcher ████

Subjects: [DATA EXPUNGED], a civilian family friend of Researcher ████, who has no knowledge of the Foundation, or any of its activities.

Procedures: Researcher ████ introduces civilian to SCP-XXXX-2 at a small dinner party, and subsequently prevents any and all human contact with SCP-XXXX-2 until he is able to return the item in a small pencil case to a Foundation Agent waiting outside.

Results: Test C is intended to verify the ability of SCP-XXXX-2 to activate SCP-XXXX-1 from large distances, and also the technique of "resetting" SCP-XXXX to clear any Foundation information from SCP-XXXX-1 by use of a civilian.

NOTE: TEST C RESULTED IN UNEXPECTED EVENTS LISTED IN INCIDENT LOG XXXX-4. ANY AND ALL FURTHER TESTING IS PROHIBITED. SCP-XXXX-1 IS TO BE LEFT IN ITS CURRENT STATE, OCCUPIED WITH THE LIFE STORY OF CIVILIAN [DATA EXPUNGED].

-INCIDENT LOG XXXX-4: CLASSIFIED-

Shortly following Test C of SCP-XXXX; ██/██/20██.

Subject [DATA EXPUNGED] is seen leaving the dinner party in which he was initially introduced to SCP-XXXX-2. Subject shows no abnormal behavior.

Three months following Test C, Foundation agents in local news stations pick up a story concerning subject [DATA EXPUNGED] and consequently cancel and erase the story. Foundation agents are sent to investigate.

Upon arrival, the home of subject [DATA EXPUNGED] shows no outward signs of abnormality. One local police cruiser is occupied in the driveway. The officer's report was confiscated, and the officer was consequently sent back to normal patrol duty.

Upon entry to the home of subject, Foundation agents were immediately greeted with a scene of destruction- every surface of the home was covered in incredibly small handwriting. Further examination shows the text to be detailed explanations of Foundation activities. Agents ████ and █████ report this to handlers and are instructed not to read the text. Agents comply and continue, now actively monitored by a handler and a researcher tasked to SCP-XXXX.

Agents proceed further into the home of subject [DATA EXPUNGED] and find the subject in his living room, visibly disturbed, muttering indiscernible speech. Subject raises his head, and proceeds to speak, with a threatening glare;

Subject: "I knew you would come, you fucking foundation rats i cantbelievethisiknowitallknowikn…"

Subject is terminated after assaulting Agent ████ with a small kitchen knife. Agent ████ receives seven (7) small cuts to their arms and chest before subject is terminated by (silenced) gunshot. House is burned as to destroy classified information, and proper cover story of a house fire initiated by subject [DATA EXPUNGED] is distributed.

Just Another Researcher.

Diary Entry 1- August 20, 2008.

Mom told me that when I went off to college, I should write in this thing. She told me it'd help with stress. The pages smell like home. You know that scent that old books always have? For me, it's always the same scent that I got every time I visited my grandparents. Every time they'd give me a book, it'd have the same scent- like cigarettes mixed with really good food. But not the kind of cigarette smell that chokes you out and makes you retch, a…tasteful wisp of smoke. Smells like home, I guess. But tomorrow's the first day of classes, and I don't really know how much I'll be able to write in here, between my engineering program, and trying to maintain some semblance of a social life. Jonathan, signing off.

Diary Entry 2- August 20, 2009.

Whelp, it's been a hot minute, I guess. Sorry Mom. Let's see…today is the first day of my second year here at university. I found this old thing under the driver's seat of my van, and I guess I might start writing in it again. It's kinda cathartic, so maybe it'll prevent me from losing my mind with all this damn homework. So, where to start. My first year was pretty good, I did really well in all my classes. Definitely looking up for the future. Hope I can land a nice nine-to-five, and just make a living. Nothing fancy. I'm not one for dreaming. Maybe that's weird. Oh well. Jonathan, signing off again.

Diary Entry 3- August 29, 2009.

First week done-zo, boys! Professors this year suck way less than, last year, so that's nice. Been a good time so far. Virginia Tech is a great school. Pretty big, too. My mom was worried that I'd get lost in the sea of other students here. But it's nice to be looked over sometimes. I like to get lost in the crowd. Less attention that way. My mom was always a worrier. I like to let the current take me wherever I'm meant to go. Probably the best thing that I inherited from Dad. He let the current take him out of my mom's life as soon as I was born, though, so that's pretty fucked. I don't think I want kids. I don't really trust myself. What if I'm a shit dad?

I guess I'm getting off track. I can already tell this year should be really good for me. I'm doing really well.

Jonathan, signing off.

Diary Entry 4- September 6, 2009

Life's good. Not much to complain about. I'll write in here next time I have something to complain about.

Well, I don't really know why I never wrote in that thing again. Four years of engineering, and I sure as hell had some things to complain about. Guess it just slipped my mind.

A couple days after I graduated, a guy in all black offered me an internship at a government program that he wouldn't give me any information on. I think I'm going to take it. The "paycheck" I was offered was dismal, but he assured me it would improve. And something about the way he spoke…and looked…and acted suggested I didn't really have a choice.

So I took the job. And to be honest, I'm not sure if I regret it or not.

Everything after that was pretty blurry- whisked away in an inconspicuous black Chrysler, to some bizarrely military-looking compound, and pretty quickly introduced to my new job. I never could've imagined the things that followed.

My mom died a couple months after I took the job. I hadn't seen her since I arrived at the Foundation site. I cried for a really long time. The funeral was short. She was my last connection to what I'd call the 'real world,' and everything I thought was normal.

i'm not sure where this tale is headed, I'll figure it out sometime soon.

Regret

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Euclid.

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is located in [REDACTED] in a large cave system. Access to this cave by both civilian and Foundation personnel is to be met with force be it deemed necessary, provided by MTF Phi-78, “Cavemen.” Given SCP-XXXXʼs nature, access to the cave is to be prevented at all costs, and all staff working nearby are not to have a CRV score of under 20.

Description: SCP-XXXX is a humanoid entity that appears to originate from the Baroque era, characterized by its tattered and worn clothing that resembles clothing of nobility at the time. SCP-XXXX manifests in different forms dependent on whom it is speaking to. The connection between its form and whoever it speaks to seems to have no correlation. SCP-XXXX resides at the bottom of a cave located in [REDACTED.] SCP-XXXX is entirely immobile. Whether this is by choice or physical inability is unknown. A notable characteristic found in all forms is the flow of constant tears streaming down its face, which appear to have eroded a path in its face to the point of creating deep divots exposing raw flesh underneath the skin. This water is not anomalous, and disperses into the water table underneath the cave. SCP-XXXX does not require food or water.

SCP-XXXX's effects manifest as a burning emotional pain in the mind of the affected, developing in three stages:

Upon first infection, subject is reclassified as SCP-XXXX-1. Subject will show little effects at
first, but slowly will be haunted by their largest regrets in life.

Quickly SCP-XXXX-1 will devolve into a psychologically broken mess, haunted by the
inescapable need to remedy its greatest regrets. Tears will often be seen on the subject's face.

Subject should then be reclassified as SCP-XXXX-2.

This stage doesnʼt last very long, as most regrets cannot be remedied, worsening the
condition of constant torture i shouldʼve tried harder iʼm sorry

SCP-XXXX-2 will then enter a state of madness in which the subject will infect those
around it by grabbing them by the shoulders and incomprehensible begging them for
sorry forgiveness, which can spread the cognitohazard in certain cases. It is unknown whether this is unintentional or SCP-XXXXʼs way of spreading itself. At this stage, the subject will develop an unnatural buildup of water in its body, and tears will flow down its face without stopping. Subject will not eat nor drink, but this does not seem to affect it whatsoever.

SCP-XXXX-3, the new classification of the subject, should be forgiven

should have stopped at the light

should have tried harder

should have

should have should have should have should have should have should have

should have told him i loved him more often i miss him iʼm sorry i should have should have
should have should have

Addendum XXXX-1: Update 1 SCP-XXXX can be treated through use of Class C through A amnestetics, however, it is recommended that SCP-XXXX-3 is given peace and forgiveness i canʼt forget i miss him father i love you iʼm sorry i couldnʼt stop the car in time i couldnʼt see the light i couldnʼt

Addendum XXXX-2: Update 2

AMNESTETICS DON'T WORK I CAN'T FORGET

SCP-XXXX-3 will at some points attempt to excuse its actions, beware in this stage,
because SCP-XXXX-3 has been known to be a monster who should have should have
should have SHOULD HAVE SHOULD HAVE SHOULD HAVE SHOULD HAVE IT SHOULD
HAVE BEEN ME SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME BEEN ME BEEN ME I LOVED HIM

SCP-XXXX-3 should be forgiven

SCP-XXXX-3 should be forgiven

SCP-XXXX-3 should be forgiven

SCP-XXXX-3 should be forgiven

im sorry

Addendum XXXX-3: Researcher Dave █████ has been found to have been affected by SCP-XXXX. Note that his personal history on file does include a traumatic crash in [DATA EXPUNGED] Subject was treated with amnestetics to no avail. After failure of all treatments, subject was terminated at his pleading request. All edits made by Researcher Dave ████ are struck-through above. It is suspected that he was affected during an interview with the humanoid entity. He was aware of the risks involved, and nobly volunteered for it nonetheless. Researcher Dave ████ has been awarded with a posthumous Foundation Medal.

Addendum XXXX-4: Request for reclassification to “Keter”

Addendum XXXX-5: Denied by Site Director ████.

SCP-XXXX does not pose a threat given that it is not spread to any staff. Additionally, this is an order to halt all research on SCP-XXXX due to risk of spreading it through the population, causing mass suicides and an XK-Class Scenario. -Site Director

Interview Logs-

Interview Log XXXX-A

Interviewer: Researcher Dave ████ (Now deceased)

NOTE: SCP-XXXX was discovered during this interview to only speak French resembling language from the 18th century. Luckily, Researcher Dave ████ is was fluent in French.
*ENTER RESEARCHER*

SCP-XXXX: *Indiscernible sobbing*
Researcher: Hello. My name is Dave ████. Please introduce yourself.

SCP: *appearing deep in thought* I…cannot remember my name.

R: What can you tell me about yourself? What are you?

SCP: What a question! How can one be expected to answer this? Can you not see? I am nothing. I am worthless. I am sadness, I am the horrors that so befall long life. I had it all. I cannot eat, nor drink, though I am surrounded by water, nor sleep. My only pleasure in life is introducing others to the same torture that befell me. I no longer have anything. My curse is my own, as is yours, and all others.

R: Please elaborate.

SCP: There is nothing more to say.

About 15 minutes of silent observation while Researcher attempts to continue interview

SCP: I am everything that haunts you at night. Do you understand? You remember. You remember your regrets. Your mistakes. But you can forget. You can leave the pain behind. You can pull the knife from your chest, you can parry the saber of the darkness. I am cursed. I was selfish. I took, but did not give. I had everything. I had EVERYTHING AND I LOST IT ALL…

several minutes of incomprehensible rapid speech, tear flow increases by an estimated factor of 10.

SCP: I was King. I had all that I wanted. I was selfish. I did not care, for I believed I was above them. I was everything, and then one day I was nothing. I was cursed. And now I reside here, cursed with what every human desires at one point or another; a perfect memory. And I remember. Ohh God above I remember. Every mistake. Every sin, every regret. I know your regrets. I know the men on the other side of this glass. I cannot judge your mistakes for I have my own and by God they are despicable. But you…you will judge your own.

SCP leans and whispers into Researcher's ear, audio not picked up by microphones. Researcher sits up stoutly suddenly and appears confused.

R: This interview is concluded.

Conclusion: Results inconclusive. It is possible that the entity is taking form of deposed king Louis XVI when observed by Researcher Dave ████. Reasons for this are unknown.

-
-
-
-

-INPUT LEVEL 4 CREDENTIALS-

Warning- Cognitohazard present. Proceed with caution.

The diary of Researcher Dave ████ is available below, kept for research purposes to allow
us to see the workings and experiences of those affected.

[Begin Diary]

Numerous illegible, scratched out lines of what are assumed to be attempted
introductions

Date: █/█/██

hi, i guess?
i donʼt really know where to start this. [DATA EXPUNGED] bought me this diary and i would
kinda feel bad if i didnʼt use it, i guess.

I feel like iʼm writing to someone, I guess. i just got transferred to a new program,
researching some cave with a cognitohazard in it or something. itʼs out in [REDACTED] so
itʼll suck having to move but iʼm not really leaving anyone, hah. i had my dad here for a while
but you know how that went

Date: █/█/██

first expedition down in the cave, woot woot. i was lucky. i never saw the fucking thing. half
a task force went fucking crazy over the last couple days. talked to one of them. kept losing
his shit about some dog from his childhood and how he wished he couldʼve visited him at
the farm his parents sent him to. real nice one, he kept saying. bunnies and grass and
flowers. poor guy.

Date: █/█/██

not gonna lie, i kinda like this diary thing. cathartic. i should write more personal stuff in
here, maybe it could help solve some issues.

Date: █/█/██

well, here goes. you ever have that feeling where somethingʼs just gnawing at you, on the
tip of your tongue, stressing you out like thereʼs a paper due tomorrow
you you canʼt figure out what it is? yeah.
thatʼs how iʼve been feeling for like a week now. I think itʼs the fuckin loneliness. itʼs creepy
as hell at this station, thereʼs just this mawing cave entrance right next to base camp. holeʼs
bigger than half the buildings, feels like itʼs calling me.

Note- The entrance into the cave housing SCP-XXXX is a semicircle with a radius of
roughly six feet from ground to ceiling.

Date: █/█/██

fuck.
fucking depression man. i think thatʼs what i got. gotta call up a pharmacist at the site
nearby cause itʼs tearing me up inside.

Date: █/█/██

fine. you convinced me, you little book.
iʼll fucking bite.
you want the story? fine.¹

December █th, 199█.

the little town of [REDACTED].
I remember it so clearly now, even though itʼs been so long. my first car. my dadʼs old
Mercedes S500. his pride and joy. decided heʼd let me take it for a spin. who the fuck gives a 14 year old the keys to a mercedes and then falls asleep in the passenger seat?

*illegible scribbles and scratchings*

Date: █/█/██

he deserved to live, you know? that fucking car too. I donʼt know what i was thinking,
whether i was daydreaming, not paying attention, or just joyriding. but thereʼs this stoplight
right, only one in the town at the time, and the lights red and the lightʼs FUCKING RED i
shouldʼve stopped WHY DIDNT I ST

*illegible aggressive scribbles*

Date: █/█/██

i hate me

Date: █/█/██

i hate me

Date: █/█/██

i hate me

This continues for approximately a week of entries.

Date: █/█/██

i hate me.

Dad, can you hear me? Iʼm sorry. iʼm sorry. iʼm so fucking sorry i shouldʼve stOPPPED WHY
DIDNT I STOP

Date: █/█/██

it shouldʼve been me why did i survive i donʼt deserve this i donʼt deserve to be alive kill me
kill me kill me kill me

Date: █/█/██

Confutatis maledictus,
flammis acribus addictis,
voca me cum benedictus voca me voca me voca me voca me voca me

*It should be noted that this particular entry is scratched intensely into the page, tearing
through at points. Researcher Dave █████ has never been a fan of classical music
according to his coworkers.

Date: █/█/██

O FORTUNA
velut luna
statu variabilis,
semper crescis
aut decrescis;
vita detestabilis
nunc obdurat
et tunc curat
ludo mentis aciem,
egestatem,
potestatem
dissolvit ut glaciem.

Date: █/█/██

diary? diary donʼt leave me now. i didnʼt mean to hurt him diary talk to me iʼm not a bad
person tell me iʼm a good person tell me please iʼm sorry forgive me forgive me forgive
forgive forgive forgive forgive me

Date: █/█/██

dad please dad please dad plleeasse elpease daddad please i miss you iʼm sorry iʼm sorry
iʼm sorry iʼm sorry

Date: █/█/██

i donʼt know whatʼs happening to me. do you think god is real diary? i think god is dead
and i think itʼs my fault

Date: █/█/██

The other researchers tell me that im affected whatever that means and im restrained but
the nice guard mr [REDACTED] let me write in my book. it wasnt my fault he said i didnʼt
mean anything bad and it felt good but it wasnʼt REALLLLLLL he doesnʼt know ANYTHING
he doesnʼt understand he didnʼt want his father crushed and mangled and he doesnt know
he doesnt know he doesnt matter im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry

It should be noted that the aformentioned security guard has been treated with amnestetics
and released from Foundation employment.

Date: █/█/██

*illegible scribbles and what appears to be tear stains*

This continues for 5 more entries after which the termination of Researcher Dave █████
was carried out by lethal injection.

His final words were “forgiveness.”

-
-
-
-
-

TEST LOGS AVAILABLE BELOW

**Test logs should follow the following format: **

Test A - Date

Subject:

Procedure:

Results: *Include form taken, if possible.

Analysis:

Test A - █/█/20██

Researcher(s): ███ Alden, ████ Collins, ████ Miller

Subject: One (1) Male D-Class, history of sexual violence

Procedure: Exposed to SCP-XXXX in conversation. After several hours, D-XXXX-1 exits room, visibly shaken. Led to a cell. As effects take time to manifest, room was outfitted with bedding, toiletry, and food supplies.

Results: SCP-XXXX manifests as what appears to be an unknown German Nazi soldier. Effects took hold quickly. Several researchers extremely jarred when D-XXXX-1 cried and admitted to his horrendous crimes, yet the “regret” SCP-XXXX brought out in D-XXXX-1 was not committing the crimes, rather, getting caught. D-XXXX-1 terminated. One researcher apparently became affected by SCP-XXXX, but was treated with amnestetics early enough into the progression and permitted to continue research. Treatment failed. Researcher lost.

Analysis: Results were expected, however it is recommended that researchers steel themselves for traumatizing details when testing on D-Class personnel. Traumatized researchers should see an on- site psychologist. Affected researchers should be quarantined and provided with all requests up to and including termination.

Researchers should take care and be sure their CRV values are EXCEPTIONALLY high. We are lucky to have had most researchers in this test be resistant, however it is important that this cognitohazard does not spread. - Site Director

Test B - █/█/20██

Researcher: ████ Collins

Subject: One (1) 3 year-old child

Procedure: Same as Test A.

Results: SCP-XXXX manifests as [DATA EXPUNGED] Child traumatized beyond repair.

Analysis: (REDACTED)

Test C - █/█/20██

Researcher - Site Director ████

Subject: Researcher Collins

Procedure: Subject underwent forced exposure to SCP-XXXX. Left alone in silence in sealed room.

Results: After days of writhing in emotional pain, subject terminated by gunshot.

Analysis: What the fuck.

Research temporarily halted by order of Site Director ████. Requests for research should be filed to your Site Director. If approved, record results above. Site Director Notes: I’m not risking this spreading. After the trauma undergone by Researcher [REDACTED] (Diary available to Level 4 and above) we’re stopping this until further notice.

A Tale of Two Sites- Part 1

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

-A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens

Some stories are timeless, works of art that can be recognized and valued for hundreds of years. Others are lost in archives, buried underneath the refuse of knowledge that time brings about, true diamonds in the rough. Alas, this story resembles the latter.

Excerpt from the diary of Researcher Ryan Miller

December 19, 1970

What does it take to create a legend? Heroic acts, heinous evil, good storytelling? I think it's a bit of all three, plus more. Every hero has that unseen darkness within them. The heart is a strange thing. I think mine is pure. I hope I did the right thing. God help me.

In the year 1969, two Foundation Sites, one located in the Great Victoria Desert in Australia, miles from any sign of civilization, and the other on a remote island in the North Atlantic, the existence of which is completely unknown to all but the highest ranking Foundation personnel, experienced mass containment breaches at the exact same moment in time. These catastrophic incidents resulted in what was thought to be total loss of all personnel, as both on-site nuclear warheads (brand-new models based on American nuclear research at the time) were detonated. This was discovered to not be the case almost 45 years later.

An SCP, no longer even logged by the Foundation, that proved to be one of the most crucial objects ever to come into the Foundation's hands-

A Level 2 Researcher tasked with containing and researching a spatial anomaly-

Two inexplicably linked Foundation sites, burned into history, but unknown to most-

The perfect storm.

Begin Log

Ryan awoke to stomping feet passing by his personal office. Fuck, how long have I been asleep? He straightened his tie, dusted off his jacket, and took a swig of what was a hot coffee a few hours before.

The boots of a Mobile Task Force marched loudly down the hall, a proud puzzle piece of the thin screen that worked tirelessly to prevent total annihilation of life as humanity knows it.

Existence is pretty fragile, you know.

A normally bizarre day at the office, Ryan thought to himself as he wrote a report on a spatial anomaly that for some reason happened to be capable of warping objects and people between Site-220 (My home in the middle of this godforsaken desert, and where I'll probably die, he shuddered) that he had sent a D-Class through earlier in the day. The D-Class was sent right back looking shaken, with a note that read "You just teleported this fucker into my bathroom stall, asshole." Ryan chuckled to himself as he wrote.

Anomaly is not sentient as far as we know, however, if it is, it has a sense of humour. Locations objects have ended up include:
One (1) sheet of paper reappearing taped to the back of a D-Class at Site 234 with the note "Kick Me."
One (1) Male D-Class reappearing straddling a researcher in the middle of using the restroom

The PA system buzzed to life with a burst of static, followed by the voice of the Site Director, an American, using the worst fake Australian accent he could muster-

"Oi, we gotta Euclid Breach in the West Wing, part C. Fucked up its containment but it's aight, we got the wing on lockdown. Resume ya normal procedures.

"Asshole," Ryan muttered to himself. He kept writing.

Another day passed, and Ryan found himself back in the anomaly's containment unit, ignoring the interns gossiping about the breach that apparently was still going on out in the West Wing. Site 234 was on full preparation to receive a small red ball that would be sent through his SCP in a few moments, to see where it'd end up this time.

3…

2…

1…

Drop it in, boys.

And so the Tale of Two Sites begins.

A Tale of Two Sites- Part 2

“I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss. I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy. I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”

-Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities.

There's an old theory called "The Butterfly Effect" that dictates that every major event can be traced back to one little action or event. It's usually talked about in the concept of time travel, but it doesn't have to only apply to the past. And the Butterfly Effect coincidentally was what a Foundation Researcher named Ryan wrote his best paper in college about. So it’s interesting that the Butterfly Effect is so important to this story.

When Ryan gave the order to drop a little red ball into a spatial anomaly, just to see what happened, he felt…off. Some people think that these little feelings are a “sixth sense” and the Foundation has certainly discovered weirder things. But Ryan didn’t believe in superstition. Despite the fact that he spends a majority of his time around unexplainable, bizarre anomalies, he was stubborn. He chalked up these “feelings” to the human ability to think about the future, to consider what outcomes could result from an action.

Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t foresee what his actions could lead to.

A researcher whose name and records were annihilated and erased from history with pure energy of shattering nuclei, instead of the usual Foundation black “Redacted” stamps, was monitoring the cell of an SCP that bizarrely managed to survive a nuclear blast and be recontained again, when suddenly, something that wasn’t there before suddenly was. A small, red children’s toy. What the hell is that? he wondered aloud as he phoned security.

The interesting thing about small objects is that when they start to move really, really, really fast is that they can be pretty fucking dangerous.

By the time Site 234’s security arrived, the sight that befell them was absolutely bizarre- a bouncy ball, lacking the ability to lose its kinetic energy, bouncing back and forth across a room, speeding up as it went. It’s unfortunate that the Foundation produces some really goddamn resilient bouncy balls.

The guards watched as a small red ball broke the sound barrier and shattered straight into the room next door, which housed an SCP that no longer exists at all.

The following chain of events is probably pretty violent, but an entity that can clone itself that has access to a portal to another site around the world, a brand new shiny hole in the door to its cell, a Level 4 Access card, and sentience cause a rippling series of events that led to the knowledge of what exactly happened to be turned to pure ash.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Ryan didn’t know about any of this. He just sat back, and waited for something to be sent back through before the “portal” that was created at Site 234 vanished, which it usually tended to do after about 3 or 4 minutes.

He got a bit nervous when nothing came back.

A Tale of Two Sites-Part 3

And yet I have had the weakness, and have still the weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire.

-A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens.

Excerpt from diary of Researcher Ryan Miller

December 25th, 1970
Christmas alone again. He tells me I saved the world, but I sure as hell got just about nothing for it.

I miss my friends.

Now, modern technology like cell phones, and instantaneous communication were all but non-existent in the year 1964. Ryan’s pet portal was the closest thing to it. But there were telegrams, and through hard (forced) labor of a lot of D-class personnel (The ethics committee wasn’t really a thing yet) telegram lines had been lain from Site 234, in the middle of the Atlantic, to another Site in Europe. And so the line went, from site to site, one message,

BREACH

This message didn’t need to make it to Ryan, because he saw the breach before his own eyes as a singular normal-looking human crawled through a 2-dimensional object that was hard to even look at. And then there were two of them. And then four. You see, when mitosis takes place in every cell at once, a lot of beings can be created pretty damn
fast.

Ryan didn’t want to die.

Ryan was smart.

Ryan ran.

Order has a tendency to give way to chaos, and chaos has a tendency to give way to order. Site 220 was quite orderly. But that didn’t last long. Security opened the door to try to contain the entities multiplying before them, but that was a mistake. Two sites, three breaches. You didn’t think the first breach was over yet, did you?

Ryan sprinted through the hall. He didn’t want to die. A storm of feet marched past his personal office, but this time, they were what was meant to be contained, not what was meant to contain.

Ryan ran again.

The spatial anomaly was still open. Ryan snuck back in to the adjacent lab. He stepped over gutted bodies of poor unfortunate souls. As alarms wailed in the background, Ryan heard footsteps at the door.

thump

THUMP

THUMP THUMP THUMP

Ryan’s heart pounded the inside of his chest louder than a hundred anomalous entities could ever even try to, and he made a choice.

His pet project, his portal, his pathway to salvation, welcomed him warmly into limbo.

A Tale of Two Sites- Part 4

Limbo is a bit different than what he had imagined, Ryan thought. He hadn’t expected a hotel room. A knock on the door startled him. He didn’t get up to open it, but they came in anyways.

I had a feeling you’d end up here, eventually.

Ryan felt unsettled, but not scared. This wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened today.

So, where are you going? asked the unremarkable man dressed in drab clothing.

“I’m not really sure, I thought you guys would be choosing that for me,” Ryan responded tentatively.

Everyone says that. Do I look like God to you? He raised his eyebrows.

“I suppose not.”

Maybe I am. People always come through here sooner or later.

“What…is this place?”

To be honest? I’m not entirely sure. I’ve been here for a long time. Did I create this? I don’t quite know. But you’ve sent things through here quite a bit lately. We’ve sent them to that island. I didn’t really pay attention to where I was sending it. I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble.

Ryan chuckled.

Oh, I can see it now. I’m so sorry.

“How can I stop this? I don’t want them to die.”

You can’t. I’m sorry, Ryan. You have a choice to make.

The black and white TV on a dresser in the hotel room cuts on, with two different images presenting themselves.

A charred and burned world.

Two charred and burnt Sites.

“I don’t understand”

Are you sure?

Ryan wept.

A Tale of Two Sites- Part 5

Two sites, one man, and one choice.

Ryan was in a room. He didn’t know exactly where he was, but he felt different.

He opened the door and saw a dozen humanoid figures turn their heads at him. Inexplicably, they ignored him. He walked with purpose, words seared into his head on repeat, explicit instructions on how to prevent the unpreventable. He released an SCP, then another one, then another one. They did exactly as the man had warned him, and another chain of events began.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Two nuclear blasts registered on Richter scales, and within just a few minutes, two nations had every preparation to end the world completed.

But as keys were turned, and papers were signed, history was suddenly, inexplicably rewritten. Not through some sort of reality-warping device, but through a simple action, one spark to ignite a gunpowder keg- or to keep it from exploding.

It was pretty simple really, A few skips let loose, and they went ahead and made some inexplicable things happen that planted seeds of doubt in some military leader’s minds, and they stopped. Simple as that, really, A telegram from the site to the Russians and the Americans was all it took, after their attention was momentarily taken away by unexplainable events. A telegram sent from a bomb-proof bunker on an island nearby.

Ryan wept.

The Anti-Procrastinator

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: The original SCP-XXXX (SCP-XXXX-1) is stored in the Safe Object storage lockers at Site [REDACTED]. A single copy is accessible for checkout at Sites 17, 24, and 18. These copies are not to be checked out for more than three days per month per person. Violation of this policy will result in a fine of roughly $500 USD per day.

Note from Site Director- Please stop filing questions regarding the fine- we are sticking to it. Given the object's usefulness and dangers, we feel it is necessary to limit use.

Description: SCP-XXXX is a pen originally discovered in the home of [REDACTED], a former employee of Anderson Robotics. To this date, four (4) copies of the pen have been discovered, in locations of other ex-employees.

SCP-XXXX has the ability to incite abnormal amounts of work ethic and motivation in those who use it. Careful disassembly of SCP-XXXX shows nothing that distinguishes it from a normal pen. The effects are different from stimulants such as common ADHD medication, as the pen appears to work in the best interest of its user. Generally, SCP-XXXX motivates a user to complete tasks beneficial to them. SCP-XXXX does not seem to have a will of its own, however, it has addictive properties due to the positive effects it brings the user. These properties are not inherent to the object, rather, a psychological dependency that some users can develop.

One notable element of SCP-XXXX is that its ink cartridge will not run out, regardless of the amount of use it is put through.

Once it was determined that SCP-XXXX is safe for use, the four (4) discovered copies were distributed to Foundation Sites for use.²

The original copy of SCP-XXXX has an engraving on the side that reads "To Jameson- Learn to focus." All subsequent discovered copies have similar engravings, with differing names.

Addendum-XXXX-1: Guys, we can tell when you procrastinated on a report. Do you seriously think that we can't just check the checkout logs? And you need to actually type your work. Don't just upload handwritten reports from this pen. It makes the Archivers' jobs so much more difficult. -Site Director ████

+ Notable Incidents

Notable Incidents should be recorded below following the same format as previous reports.

Incident XXXX-1:
Location: [REDACTED]
Subject: Researcher ████
Report:
Researcher ████ requests use of SCP-XXXX-4 on █/██/20██. All works produced by Researcher ████ are high-quality and on time for several weeks.
After several weeks, Researcher ████ reports having lost SCP-XXXX-4.
On ██/██/20██, Researcher is reported to be in state of severe distress.
Researcher ████ vanishes for several days and is found in his personal quarters, laying in his bed, malnourished, apparently lacking motivation to even get out of bed.

We're lucky to have checked up on him before he lost motivation to even eat. I'm restricting use of this thing to prevent this happening again. -O5-7

(Unimportant incidents removed for simplicity)

Incident XXXX-6:
Location: Site-17
Subject: Researcher ████
Report:
Researcher ████ proposes attempt to create a computerized version of SCP-XXXX

Proposal approved.

██/██/20██: Ink withdrawn from SCP-XXXX-4 and used in the creation of plastics to build a keyboard.
██/██/20██: Keyboard finished. Classification- SCP-XXXX-K
██/██/20██: Testing begins.
Results: SCP-XXXX-K has been destroyed, as the moment a key was pressed, D-XXXX-1 was physically incapable of being separated from the keyboard. D-Class terminated. Notably, he repeatedly typed the phrase "That's not what this was meant for, silly."

Additional incident reports should be filed here following similar formatting.

The Dynamic Duo

November, 2018

Upon MTF Alpha-9's creation, the idea of using anomalous humanoids in a task force terrified some, and excited others. Suggestions rained in, but most were denied immediately. Any humanoids used had to be trustworthy and fully capable of safely carrying out a mission.

We couldn't make the same mistakes again.

Director Sophia Light had chosen the two anomalies herself, but not without push-back.
"These kids are disturbed, Director. With all due respect, I'd heavily advise against this," said the Head Researcher in charge of SCP-2241.

"Because they've been locked up since they were kids! I read the interview files- they just talk about wanting to be heroes. I'm sure they'd be nothing less than thrilled at the offer."

The researcher shook her head, "Director, I sure as hell hope you know what you're getting into. But Ethics isn't going to like putting those two on this. 2241 is diagnosed with anger issues, and 2800 is diagnosed with depression."

"Just open the door already. We've got a transport waiting outside."

-

"So these are the two?" asked Iris, a laptop and scrolling through two heavily redacted files.

"Yup. We've got them on choppers headed out right now," responded Director Sophia Light.

Alpha-9's nature is incredibly controversial within the Foundation, with many unable to forget the tragedy brought about by Omega-7's failures. But the project's goals are to recreate the most effective task force in Foundation history, without making the same mistakes. The Foundation has hundreds of humanoid SCP objects, but many are dangerous and impractical, and some are just downright silly.

But silly isn't the same as useless.

So when Iris was presented two anomalous humanoids to interview for possible involvement in Alpha-9, she was a bit confused. On one hand, a reality bender capable of bending the world around him to his liking, and then a kid who could make needles grow from his skin.

"2800, how are you today?" Iris asked the slightly uncomfortable teenage boy in front of her.

"Uh…I'm alright. It's pretty boring in here. Are you gonna do more tests on me or something?" he responded.

"No. That's not why I'm here. I'm technically a skip like you, actually," Iris said.

"Really?? What can you…do?" he asked excitedly.

"Let me show you," Iris said as she took an old Polaroid camera from a small bag. She snapped a photo, and waited for it to print.

"That's pretty boring," the boy said, looking disappointed.

"One second. Check this out," Iris said with a grin as she sank her arm elbow-deep into a photograph. She tapped the boy facing her on the back with her seemingly floating hand.

"Woah! What the hell?!" he jumped from his seat, looking back and forth between her and the arm that appeared to be hers suspended in midair, as she made a "peace" sign with her index and middle finger.

"Pretty cool, right? Good for the field, too. You know, intel, and I can grab stuff from a really long distance," she grinned.

"What do you mean, 'the field?'" he asked quizzically.

"Well, essentially, the Foundation are making a new team, using skips like us. And they want you on it."

"Wait, like, the Avengers? Are you in charge?"

"No, not quite. They like to tell me that I am. But I don't have a lot of choice."

"I'm in. 100%. 110%. By the way, call me Cactus-Man. It's my superhero name."

"Um…we'll consider it."

'Cactus-Man' grinned and squinted slightly as needles emerged from every inch of uncovered skin on his body.

-

"Cameron?" Iris asked as she walked in to a small bedroom housing an innocent-looking teenage boy.

"Wow. You're the first one to actually call me by my name. Here to throw more shit at me? Hold a gun to some guy's head? Shoot at me? What is it this time?" Cam retorted aggressively.

"Oh. Uh. Not exactly," Iris said, caught a bit off-guard, "I'm just here to talk. How long have they had you here?"

"Since I was little. It's been years of fucking torture, basically. You know they once put a bomb in a crowd of random civilians, and I had to save them? Oh, and don't forget the time the put one in my backpack. Oh, and the time they shot a fucking artillery shell at me. Been a pretty great stay here." he responded irritably. "I've been here for a really, really long time.

"Wow." responded Iris tentatively.

"Sorry for unloading on you. I get irritated pretty easily. It's so mind-numbing being locked up in here all the time.

"I'm not surprised. They treat us pretty badly."

"Oh. Yeah. I forgot. Yeah, I'm an SCP too. Wanna see?"

Iris demonstrated the same thing that she had shown 2800.

"How do I know this isn't just a trick?" Cameron said offhandedly.

The camera Iris had been holding suddenly wasn't there anymore. Iris's heart plummeted to the depths of hell, only to be hurled back out when she glanced with terror at Cameron and saw it in his hand. Cameron looked pretty concerned, obviously not having expected Iris to be so upset.

"Oh. Uh. Thanks," said Iris, looking shaken, as she took the camera back and returned it to her bag.

"Yeah, uh, they call me a 'reality bender,'" said Cameron, "It's a pretty cool name, and I can do some pretty cool stuff, I guess."

"Woah," said Iris, as the walls of the small bedroom were suddenly glass sliding doors, overlooking a beautiful mountain range.

"I can go places, or bring places to me. But I think they're tracking me. And I'm afraid to leave, because I think they'll kill me."

As Cameron's thoughts darkened, the landscape outside of the cliff-side mansion darkened as well. The mountain range was obscured by a volcanic eruption of incredible size. The beautiful Roman city beneath them was quickly obscured as boats escaped the harbor, and fleeing residents were either fortunate enough to escape, or unfortunate enough to be swallowed by the unstoppable tide of ash.

"Oh my god," said Iris, frozen by fear at what she saw, "is that Vesuvius?"

"Yes, they gave me a lot of stuff to read, classical literature and whatnot. Look," he said, as they suddenly were suspended above the scene in town in a bubble of sort, protected from the horrors, "that there is the uncle of Pliny the Younger. Pliny wrote a bunch of famous letters about him," said Cam, pointing to a single man fighting through the crowd, attempting to run towards impending doom, with the bravery of a thousand men propelling him forward. "I've spent a lot of time here. I want to have that kind of bravery," he said wistfully, "but I'm scared. Every time I try to run in behind him, I end up running the other way."

"This is…incredible." said Iris, as they were suddenly back in Cameron's small bedroom.

"I can do insane things. I don't know how, or why. I just can," said Cameron, dejectedly, "I used to want to be a superhero. I wanted to save people. But I'm afraid that I'll become a villain."

"The world isn't really like that. Superheroes, villains, it's not black and white. Truthfully, the Foundation are making a team with skips like us, and they're putting you on it. I'm technically in charge. I guess you could consider us 'heroes,' but I'm honestly not entirely sure."

Suddenly, the door to the room was replaced by a brick wall, and Cameron's face darkened.

"This is a trap. It's another test."

"Choose to think what you will, but you should probably let me out. I've got other stuff to do. It's not like I have a choice on whether or not you're on. Don't shoot the messenger."

The lights in the room stopped flickering, and the door reformed.

"Leave." said Cameron, with tears in his eyes.

Iris could only hope they were tears of joy. He had undergone so much in hopes of being able to help others one day. She wanted to give that to him.

-

REQUEST APPROVED BY O5 COMMAND

**HUMANOIDS APPROVED FOR ALPHA-9:

SCP-2800

SCP-2241

Note- As much as we dislike referring to SCP-2800 as "CactusMan," SCP-2241 won't work with us unless we let him be "Cameron the Crusader." And it would be unfair to only let one member use their "superhero name." Above all else, Be. Safe. -Director Sophia Light.

-

“Look, ain’t no chance I’m spitting out “Cactus-man” every time I talk to you. How ‘bout “Cac?” Han said.

“Sure, man,” said Cac, who was just excited to be doing something, for once.

“And you? Definitely Cam.” Han pointed to the SCP who used to be called Cameron the Crusader.

“Okay, now with the whole ‘naming’ thing out of the way, what can two…do?” Iris asked, tentatively.

"To be honest, not too much right now," Cac replied.

-

January, 2019, one month prior to Insurgency raid.

"LEFT! RIGHT! DUCK! JUMP! RUN!"

Adams's voice crackled over a loudspeaker two barely adult men dodged obstacles, pushing themselves to the limits in every regard.

"ATTACK!"

Cac let loose a volley of needles into the mannequin's skull, knocking it back into the wall violently, while Cam's mannequin's head vanished from existence, replaced by a pot of flowers.

A loud alarm played.

"And…minute and 12 seconds," Adams said.

"Is that good enough?" Cam gasped.

"Meh. Good enough for today. Get some water. Regroup here in fifteen." Adams sighed.

-

"So, how are you feeling about this, Cam?" Cac asked excitedly.

"Better than the shit they were putting me through before, I guess," Cam replied.

"Like what?"

Cam stared silently.

In an instant, the two teenagers were standing on a dimly lit street, stars above them glimmering through the smog, and air permeated by the pungent scent of cigarettes.

A middle-aged lady walked briskly and nervously down the street.

"I've spent a lot of time reliving this," said Cam, as a man dressed in black clothing emerged suddenly from a dark alleyway.

"Woah! Look out!" yelled Cac.

"They can't hear you, you know. This is the past. Look," he gestured towards a small boy who suddenly sprinted from down the street with a rock in his hand.

The boy jumped with a yell and hurled his rock at the man with the gun.

The lady screamed as the rock grew to an enormous size and impacted the would-be robber, hurled him backwards into the alleyway from whence he came, landing with a sickening crunch. She sprinted down the street, and the little boy stopped, with a look of horror on his face.

The little boy sat and cried.

"Holy…what the hell just happened??" asked Cac.

"Wait." came a simple response from Cam.

A van with blacked-out windows came down the street and pulled up slowly next to the little boy. Five men dressed in black tactical gear carrying rifles emerged from the van, four taking up positions watching their surroundings, and one crouching down to the little boy and whispering indiscernible words of comfort to him. The little boy nodded and followed him into the van. As quickly as they emerged, the soldiers vanished, and the van continued down the street.

"Was that…you?" Cac asked cautiously.

"Yes. That's where it all started." Cam winced as his body tensed, and suddenly the two teenage boys were standing in a large concrete test chamber, as a small boy stood in the center, yelling angrily at a man holding a knife to the throat of another man with tears in his eyes, pleading for help.

Cameron whisked himself and Cac away as the knife morphed into a bar of chocolate.

"It just got worse and worse," said Cam as the two watched as a slightly more grown boy yelled with rage and hurled an explosive from his backpack through the ceiling of his bedroom, watching it climb higher and higher until a muffled explosion was heard.

The boy seethed with anger, and Cam once again changed the scene. This time, the boy was a little bit older, and standing out in what appeared to be a football field of sorts. Suddenly, he perked up, and his face darkened as a piercing scream cut the air. A whistle was heard over the screaming, as a black object could be seen descending from the sky towards the boy, who promptly threw his hand into the air and thrusted his arm outwards, sending the mortar shell hurling back towards the direction it came from at an incredible speed, followed by a deafening roar and a mushroom cloud in the distance.

"Holy shit," said a slightly dizzy Cac as once again the duo were thrown through bends of reality back into their living quarters.

"I don't trust those fucking lab-coat people. But I trust Iris. And Andrea. But I will never trust a man in a lab coat here. Never again." said an exhausted and tearful Cameron as he promptly collapsed onto his bed. Cac was hurled again through the bends of reality, finding himself outside the door to him and Cam's living quarters, the door locked. He heard muffled crying from inside the room.

-

"CAM! NOW!" Cac yelled as he launched a volley of razor-sharp needles towards a man raising a gun.

Midair, the needles accelerated to incredible speeds.

The impact sent the training bot flying into a plaster wall, and then through said wall, and then through another concrete wall behind it.

"That was way too fucking close. Way too close," Adams seethed, "If you're going to insist on live-round training, I want absolutely no possible chance that either of you can be hurt. If either of you gets killed, this project will be set back months and it'll be MY ass on the line. And what was the point of you wasting time and focus to speed up Cac's needles? They're fast enough as it is!"

Cac looked at her quizzically- "…Thanks?"

"We had it under control!" Cam retorted.

"That last bot nearly shot you both!"

"I can literally stop bullets!"

In one fluid motion, Andrea Adams whipped a handgun from her belt and loosed a three-round volley into a mannequin marked HOSTAGE.

"Really? Can you?"

"I wasn't ready!" Cam insisted.

"Not good enough. Be ready," Andrea snapped, as she again raised her handgun and pointed it at the dummy.

The hammer fell on an empty chamber.

"That good enough for you?" Cam said, holding a handful of 9MM Parabellum rounds, as Cac looked on in awe.

"I know what they did to you; I've read your file. And if you don't want those types of tests again, then you need to prove to me that you can handle yourself in these types of tests," Andrea said.

Cam stared back wide-eyed as he struggled to form words.

Andrea regretted what she had said for a moment, but no longer.

-

Cam and Cac were nicknamed "The Two Musketeers" before long. They bunked together, (Luckily for Cac, because Cam bent their boring and drag bunks into a spacious and luxury double-bedroom whenever they were in it,) and they worked well together. Iris and Andrea were equally astonished at their test scores- the two were practically unstoppable.

"Sophia!" yelled Iris, jogging down the hallway to catch up with the Director.

"I'm kind of busy- what is it?"

"Cancel whatever you've got- you have to see this," said Iris, holding out a small flash drive.

Twenty minutes later, after viewing the highlights of the two new team member's training runs, Director Light shook her head. "It's not enough. I mean, these kids have to be prepped to be shown off to O5. They have to be better. An 85% success rate just isn't enough."

Iris's shoulders dropped as she sighed and left the room, disappointed at the dish of rejection she'd been fed.

This same scene repeated again and again for almost two weeks, until finally Iris received a nod from the Director.

"Guys, I think you're ready," said Iris after a training run on a random Friday, "I think we can go in the field."

Unfortunately, they wouldn't have an opportunity for a little bit longer.

Incident A9-81

"You want a smoke, man?" said Bill Spinner, or “Splinter,” as half of the guards underneath him called him, held a Marlboro cigarette in his hand. He casually offered it to a guard who was way too smart to fall for his hidden tests. Smith stayed focus on his range of duty.

Night shift at Site-81 sucked.

"Hah, congrats man. You passed. Again." Smith rolled his eyes, which Splinter luckily couldn't see anymore, as he wasn't alive. It took Agent Smith a solid fifteen seconds to process what he had just seen, but his seconds were also numbered.

About half a mile away, an unmarked bronze casing fell quietly into a cloth towel specifically placed to catch such ejected bullet casings.

It wasn't too long before the Chaos Insurgency agents silently slithered there way up the guard tower, and dragged two former Foundation security guards back into the treeline.

-

"Fuck oooooooooooooff, Andrea."

Iris yawned out a series of expletives as she pulled a bed-sheet over her head to block out the lights that Sgt. Andrea Adams had just turned on. The sheet couldn't block out everything, though, and rays of light cut into Iris's eyelids like knives.

"It's 8 AM. Time for a run, my photographer friend." Andrea Adams isn't exactly known for being a pushover.

Iris made a half-yawn, half-moan, complete with a nuclear F-bomb at the end like an inappropriate cherry on a really tired cake.

"I see the men’s vocabulary is rubbing off on you.” Andrea tapped her watch impatiently.

A drawn-out "fine" finally escaped into the small bedroom's air, and Iris threw her covers off and went to prep for her wonderfully entertaining and amazing daily run.

-

Another one bites the dust.

An Insurgency agent hums to himself as silently another man's life is ended in the name of his noble goal. He watched safely through the magnified optics of a very expensive rifle scope as his men fought their way through unsuspecting guards.

Of course, it was only possible to avoid alarms for so long. He winced as a gunshot pierced the air.

Sorry, boss

"LOUD AND PROUD, BOYS!" He shouted into his radio transmitter, his voice crackling into the ears of his men like lightning, shocking them into action.

-

The running path that Andrea Adams, Iris, and her assorted security guards took every morning wound through the paths around the Site 17 "campus," and it wasn't long until Iris was completely out of breath.

"Keep up, soldier!"

"I'm in charge of my task force! I outrank you!" Iris choked out of her dry throat.

"Did I fucking ask?!" Andrea shouted back without missing a beat.

Iris kept running.

-

Foundation Site 81 was a pretty damn secured place, but when you use time-tested complex Soviet tactics, your enemies are quickly overwhelmed by your sheer intellect and strategic capabilities.

Soviet tactics summing up to "We have more men than you have bullets."

Insurgency agents took complete control of the outside of Site 81, but found that the sheer firepower of the remnants of Mobile Task Forces was too much to deal with, and they were incapable of breaching into the main containment wings of the site. The subterranean complex was quickly sealed off with blast doors capable of withstanding the force of a nuclear bomb. Insurgency agents secured a perimeter and prepared for Foundation reinforcements to arrive.

"What's the plan?"

An Insurgency Tactics and Strategy officer spread a map of Site-81 out on a table in a makeshift base of operations within the Site Administrative offices.

"There's no way we can breach the doors with conventional technology. We have anomalous objects on the way but it's going to be some time. In the meantime, here," he pointed to the main entrance to the subterranean complex, "here," another entrance, "and here," a third, "need to be fully secured. We don't know what they're capable of down there."

"Clearly not much," came a voice from in the crowd of agents, followed by a few laughs. These were quickly silenced by a deadly look from the Tactics officer.

"What are you waiting for? Move,” he hissed at them.

Steel-toed boots stomped out to take up positions.

-

Keyboards clattered away under thousands of metric tons of dirt and blast shields as Foundation personnel hurled alarms, warnings, and all sorts of URGENT marked emails through fiber-optic internet cables across the world. It didn't take long for a nearby Task Force to launch a high-flying drone above the overtaken Site. The drone didn't last very long.

"God dammit. He got me," a drone pilot yelled out to his superior officers. "There's probably anywhere between seven hundred and two thousand men in that place. Absolutely crawling with them."

A phone call went out.

Sophia Light picked up her office phone, and was quickly informed of the situation at Site-81. The ending was what really set her off.

"Are you serious?" asked Light.

A deep breath crackled through the phone. "Yes. They've proved themselves this far. It's time for them to start working."

Sophia Light set down her phone and walked briskly out of her office.

-

Iris stepped out of her room, dressed in casual clothing, still short of breath after the run. Greeting her was a terrified-looking intern who squeaked out a very kind and not at all threatening invitation to get-the-hell-over-here-right-goddamn-now, sent with love from a certain Sophia Light. Iris rolled her eyes and complied.

Iris hadn't even finished knocking on the official-looking office door before it was hurled open by a very frazzled Andrea Adams.

"WHERE have you BEEN?"

"…Showering?"

-

48 hours prior to counter-raid on Site 81

Andrea Adams, as the sole operating member of Lambda-2 "NO NAME ENTERED," watched coldly with crossed arms as Iris and her second-in-command Jiang discuss how on God's Green Earth they would be able to retake an entire Foundation Site hosting multiple Keter-class skips from an angry army of a thousand men and women willing to die for their cause. Thing's weren't looking too great for the band of thirty-odd top-tier soldiers and anomalous humanoids.

"Han, for the last time, you're not punching anyone at the speed of sound. They have a thousand men, and not to mention anti-aircraft weaponry."

"But it would be so cool!"

"No means no, Han. Final answer. Any other bright ideas are welcome."

"I've got one," Adams muttered. As everyone turned to look at her quizzically, she groaned, pushed herself up off of the wall she'd been leaning on, and walked over to the map of Foundation Site-81.

"Cam, can you warp us into the administrative offices at Site-81 reliably?" Adams asked.

"Uh…I could try?" He responded.

""Try" isn't good enough. Can you do it?"

"Yes. I can. I think," He responded nervously.

"OK. Show me." Adams shrugged.

"What?"

"Take me somewhere. Right now. Out in the hallway, let's say."

"Ok," Cam said as his words echoed down the hallway corridor.

-

"You know this is insane, right?" Iris nervously quipped.

Adams shrugged. "Less so than some stuff I've done. You scared or something?"

"Apart from this being the most important mission this team has been on so far, and failure could be catastrophic? No, not at all."

"You did alright on the other ones, before you brought in the two new guys," Andrea said reassuringly, "Why would this be anything other than better?"

-

2 hours prior to initiation of counter-raid.

Andrea Adams was was feeling extremely irritable, because her request for a combat role in the counter-raid was denied. It was her plan, after all, but Clef wanted her to play the role of a watchdog, not a soldier.

"Tell me one more time why exactly I can't be part of my own plan?" Andrea seethed.

"Lambda-2 is an auxiliary team meant to monitor Alpha-9 and serve as an insurance policy. You're not working alongside them, you're working above them," replied Director Sophia Light.

"Unbelievable."

Andrea threw her hands into the air and stormed out of the room, as the members of Alpha-9 waited in the hallway.

"Cam, do it."

The cool breeze of a wind gust gently moved Andrea's hair as she looked around the Indiana hillsides, standing atop a mountain above an innocuous-looking water treatment plant that she knew was anything but.

"Where are we?" asked an Alpha-9 agent.

"That," Cam gestured below, "is Site 81. And those people are Chaos Insurgency terrorists."

-

The plan was relatively simple- it was clear that the administrative offices were being used as a base camp for the Insurgency raiders- so Cam would warp the team in, and they'd fight their way through until either the Insurgency retreated, or there were none left. Despite the two new skip's reluctance to harm others, the release of the anomalous objects buried under Site 81 would be catastrophic, and so sacrifice was necessary. Combat roles were relatively simple; Cam had point, due to his incredible abilities, and Cac would be right behind him. The two dozen other operators would follow close behind, armed with standard-issue rifles.

-

"Boss, I don't feel to great about this one," said an Insurgency agent positioned within the administrative offices of Foundation Site 81. "We were supposed to have breached by now."

"I'm aware. Does that seem like it was necessary to say? I mean really. Did you expect me to have had no knowledge of this?" the officer snapped.

"What are we gonna do when the Foundation sends reinforcements?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Unfortunately, they were already at the bridge, and the bridge was crumbling underneath them.

Thirty-odd people who were not present in the room before suddenly were, and it didn't take long for the population of the room to even back out as the arrival of Alpha-9 was followed by the removal of two dozen Insurgency agents.

"What the f-" came a yell from an officer as he drew a handgun that suddenly vanished an reappeared above his head. He glanced confusedly at his now-empty hand, right before his handgun was hurled downwards from midair into his head.

"Say "Cheese!"" yelled Iris with a grin, as she snapped a photo of the room, crouched behind an overturned desk, and went to work.

Cac flung volleys of spines at agents, and as his targets were taken care of, Cam kicked off his plans for defensive measures as well, creating a one-way invisible barrier of sorts between his team and their opponents. Bullets fired by Insurgents clattered to the ground as they met the strange bend in space and time, forming a satisfying pile of lead. Cam followed this by removing the exit from the room from reality altogether.

The ruthless precision and agility of Alpha-9 astonished Iris, as the number of casualties on her opponents' side climbed, while hers stayed at a solid zero.

The acrid smell of gunpowder tinged the air of the office as the sound of the devices that emitted it fell silent. Terrorists formerly willing to die for their cause had that wish fulfilled, and Alpha-9 assessed their situation.

"Holy shit," remarked Han.

Cam stood still in the center of the room, panting, and Cac sat down in a chair, sweating rivers.

"That was fucking sick, dude," remarked Cac.

Cam snapped his fingers, and suddenly the bodies previously strewn haphazardly about the room were laid neatly in a corner, one by one, under white blankets.

Cac stood up and put his hand on the still unmoving Cam. "You alright?"

Cam took a deep breath, shook his head, and replied, "Yeah, just a bit tired. Let's move."

-

"What the hell happened in there?!" asked a furious Insurgency officer.

"Alpha-9. Alpha-9 happened. The rumors are true." squeaked a soldier.

"They have a reality-bender now? Where are our informants? Why did we not know about this?"

"We never could've expected this."

Another conversation interrupted like a movie cliche, as two bodies hit the ground.

"Let's move!!" yelled the increasingly confident leader of Alpha-9.

Rattling gunfire pierced the air as Alpha-9 exchanged fire with Insurgency agents, but most of the ammunition went to waste, as the Insurgency were being subjected to the full-force attacks of a walking, talking hand, a reality-bender, and volleys of super-sonic cactus needles. Not to mention a teenage girl's hand appearing from thin air in random places, clothes-lining enemies and snagging their magazines from their belts.

Han laughed with glee as he ran, or what semblance of running a hand can create, from cover to cover, enemy to enemy, punching and strangling as he went. He felt a tinge of guilt with every disposed Insurgent, but bullets ricocheting off the cement near him cleansed that away pretty quickly.

The two C's, the dynamic duo, the two Musketeers, Cam and Cac, flew across the pavement past overturned vans, concrete barricades, and other forms of makeshift cover their opponents tried to hide behind. A volley of needles here, a time-bend here, a dead or incapacitated agent everywhere.

A desperate-looking Insurgency agent held a gun to the head of Jiang, Iris's second-in-command, confident that he had finally gotten a foot up on his enemies.

Cam shrugged, as the Insurgent's handgun was now a pot of beautiful roses, which promptly spilled onto the pavement.

"You messed up my flowers!" Cam remarked as Jiang drew a handgun, and the Insurgent fell to the ground with a puff of blood in the air in his place. The dynamic duo slightly gagged in distaste.

"Move! They've got more coming in from the north side!" yelled Iris from a few feet away.

Alpha-9 pulled back to a series of large concrete barricades for cover under heavy fire, while Cam stood with his fists clenched and eyes closed, and suddenly the pavement in between the team and the Insurgency erupted upwards, forming into an enormous barricade. Cam proceeded to walk along the barricade, tapping here and there, opening up portholes for the team to fire through. Then, he vanished.

"Where the hell did Cam go?!" yelled Cac.

"Over here!" came a response from atop a nearby warehouse.

As the Insurgency fire-teams moved forwards with weapons drawn, the ground underneath them began to rumble. Confused yells were heard from the crowd of agents, and then they were silenced. The deafening sound of an earthquake filled the air as the ground around them swallowed them whole.

A sweating, panting Cam was suddenly standing amidst the Alpha-9 team, and promptly fell to his knees.

"I'm okay! I'm okay. Go!"

Alpha-9 rushed towards the center of the Site, and fought their way through Insurgency fire-teams without missing a beat.

"LOOK OUT!" yelled Iris, as she watched an Insurgency agent aiming a rocket launcher towards the grouped-up Foundation rifleman.

NO. screamed Cam, as he extended his arm towards the man.

The backblast scorched the pavement behind the Insurgent demolitions expert, as a rocket screamed towards its unsuspecting targets.

Time seemingly slowed down as the rocket curved upwards, guided by Cam's hand, as it screamed into the sky. The rocket made an enormous arc before descending at incredible speeds back into the man who loosed it in the first place.

The asphalt that once carried a man was hurled into the air in a massive fireball.

Alpha-9 carried on.

Upon reaching the entrance to the Site's main underground access point, Alpha-9 encountered little resistance. That is, there were many enemies to be fought, but the riflemen's marksmanship combined with the anomalies' abilities were absolutely unstoppable.

"We got more coming from the left!" yelled Iris, gesturing towards an alleyway between two warehouses.

Cam brought both of his hands to bear towards the two warehouses, and promptly there was suddenly no more space between them as they slammed together with a crash of twisting metal.

Cam collapsed to the ground, panting.

"CAM!" came a scream.

Cac sprinted over, grabbing Cam by his shirt and dragging him back behind a concrete barrier under mass amounts of fire.

Cameron regained his balance, stood back up, and with one deep breath sprinted back into the open courtyard, and promptly brought a shield up in front of the entirety of Alpha-9.

As the last fighting Insurgent fell, Cam collapsed again, drained of energy. Alpha-9 regrouped and called for reinforcements to secure the Site.

"Did…did we save people?" stuttered an exhausted Cam.

"More than you know." replied Iris.

+ MISSION REPORT A9-81

DATE: February ██, 2019
LOCATION: Site 81
RESPONDING FORCE: MTF Alpha-9 "Last Hope"

SUMMARY:
Approximately 1,000 Chaos Insurgency agents conducted a coordinated and pre-meditated raid on Foundation Site 81. This resulted in the loss of ███ Foundation personnel, but no containment breaches, as MTF Alpha-9 responded before the Insurgency was able to breach the underground containment sectors. Alpha-9 demonstrated remarkable efficiency and bravery in the field, suffering zero casualties and quickly and efficiently disposing of Insurgents until the remaining forces surrendered and were taken into Foundation custody.
CONCLUSION:
Alpha-9 again proves to be an incredible invaluable Foundation asset. -Director Sophia Light.

"Holy shit," remarked a shocked Sophia Light, "they're good."

The security video playing in front of her showed incredible demonstration of ability by the team that she was in charge of.

"This is unreal. He just made them disappear, just like that" said Andrea, with a snap.

"I don't believe this, Iris. This is incredible. Zero fatalities? The only 'casualty' you had was one agent who was struck by a bit of shrapnel."

"Cam still hasn't forgiven himself for letting that happen," Iris interjected.

"Oh my God."

-

INTERVIEW LOG A9-2800/2241-81

INTERVIEWER: DIR. SOPHIA LIGHT

INTERVIEWED: SCP-2800, SCP-2241

FOREWORD: Interview following Alpha-9's counter-raid at Site-81 versus large opposition from Chaos Insurgency agents.

<BEGIN LOG>

Light: So. How do you two feel?

SCP-2800: To be honest? Better than I should. We hurt a lot of people, but I think we saved a lot more. I haven’t felt this good in a really, really long time.

L: And you, 2241?

2241: Please call me Cam. And I feel about the same as Cac said. But I feel this…buzz. Of power, I think. And it feels good, but not like going-to-my-head good. Like I want to keep helping good. I’d never actually gotten to use my powers for real, and doing so is really satisfying.

L: Noted. I take it both of you want to continue serving the Foundation and Alpha-9?

2241 and 2800 nod in agreement

2800: It’s like, I don’t feel useless anymore. I don’t feel like some object that needs to be locked up in a box. I feel like, I don’t know, a hero?

2241: I feel…powerful. Like I’m valuable. I want to keep helping.

END LOG

Footnotes

1. these footnotes are only for "REGRET" but show up on all the tabs here. Ignore for all other tabs
*It should be noted that the diary of Researcher [REDACTED] is not anomalous or capable
of communication in any way, shape, or form.

2. Unlimited use was permitted by permitted employees after approval of the Site Director, up until Researcher █████ developed such a strong reliance on it that he was incapable of leaving his bunk when he misplaced it.