- Tab 1
- Tab 2
- Depths
- SCP-XXXZ
- The Pakistan Incident
- The Generally Uncomfortable Laboratory Adolescents Group
| korben600 |
|---|
| Author: |
| Published on 22 Sep 2020 17:09 |
/* source: http://ah-sandbox.wikidot.com/component:collapsible-sidebar-x1 */ #top-bar .open-menu a { position: fixed; top: 0.5em; left: 0.5em; z-index: 5; font-family: 'Nanum Gothic', san-serif; font-size: 30px; font-weight: 700; width: 30px; height: 30px; line-height: 0.9em; text-align: center; border: 0.2em solid #888; background-color: #fff; border-radius: 3em; color: #888; } @media (min-width: 768px) { .mobile-top-bar { display: block; } .mobile-top-bar li { display: none; } #main-content { max-width: 708px; margin: 0 auto; padding: 0; transition: max-width 0.2s ease-in-out; } #side-bar { display: block!important; position: fixed; top: 0; left: -19em; width: 17em; height: 100%; margin: 0; overflow-y: auto; z-index: 10; padding: 0.3em 0.675em; background-color: rgba(0,0,0,0.1); transition: left 0.5s ease-in-out; } #side-bar:target { display: block; left: 0; width: 17em; margin: 0; z-index: 10; } #side-bar:target .close-menu { display: block; position: fixed; width: 100%; height: 100%; top: 0; left: 0; z-index: -1; } #top-bar .open-menu a:hover { text-decoration: none; } .close-menu { margin-left: 19em; opacity: 0; } }
What this is
A bunch of miscellaneous CSS 'improvements' that I, Croquembouche, use on a bunch of pages because I think it makes them easier to deal with.
The changes this component makes are bunch of really trivial modifications to ease the writing experience and to make documenting components/themes a bit easier (which I do a lot). It doesn't change anything about the page visually for the reader — the changes are for the writer.
I wouldn't expect translations of articles that use this component to also use this component, unless the translator likes it and would want to use it anyway.
This component probably won't conflict with other components or themes, and even if it does, it probably won't matter too much.
Usage
On any wiki:
[[include :scp-wiki:component:croqstyle]]
This component is designed to be used on other components. When using on another component, be sure to add this inside the component's [[iftags]] block, so that users of your component are not forced into also using Croqstyle.
Related components
Other personal styling components (which change just a couple things):
Personal styling themes (which are visual overhauls):
CSS changes
Reasonably-sized footnotes
Stops footnotes from being a million miles wide, so that you can actually read them.
.hovertip { max-width: 400px; }
Monospace edit/code
Makes the edit textbox monospace, and also changes all monospace text to Fira Code, the obviously superior monospace font.
@import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Fira+Code:wght@400;700&display=swap'); :root { --mono-font: "Fira Code", Cousine, monospace; } #edit-page-textarea, .code pre, .code p, .code, tt, .page-source { font-family: var(--mono-font); } .code pre * { white-space: pre; } .code *, .pre * { font-feature-settings: unset; }
Teletype backgrounds
Adds a light grey background to <tt> elements ({{text}}), so code snippets stand out more.
tt { background-color: var(--swatch-something-bhl-idk-will-fix-later, #f4f4f4); font-size: 85%; padding: 0.2em 0.4em; margin: 0; border-radius: 6px; }
No more bigfaces
Stops big pictures from appearing when you hover over someone's avatar image, because they're stupid and really annoying and you can just click on them if you want to see the big version.
.avatar-hover { display: none !important; }
Breaky breaky
Any text inside a div with class nobreak has line-wrapping happen between every letter.
.nobreak { word-break: break-all; }
Code colours
Add my terminal's code colours as variables. Maybe I'll change this to a more common terminal theme like Monokai or something at some point, but for now it's just my personal theme, which is derived from Tomorrow Night Eighties.
Also, adding the .terminal class to a fake code block as [[div class="code terminal"]] gives it a sort of pseudo-terminal look with a dark background. Doesn't work with [[code]], because Wikidot inserts a bunch of syntax highlighting that you can't change yourself without a bunch of CSS. Use it for non-[[code]] code snippets only.
Quick tool to colourise a 'standard' Wikidot component usage example with the above vars: link
:root { --c-bg: #393939; --c-syntax: #e0e0e0; --c-comment: #999999; --c-error: #f2777a; --c-value: #f99157; --c-symbol: #ffcc66; --c-string: #99cc99; --c-operator: #66cccc; --c-builtin: #70a7df; --c-keyword: #cc99cc; } .terminal, .terminal > .code { color: var(--c-syntax); background: var(--c-bg); border: 0.4rem solid var(--c-comment); border-radius: 1rem; }
Debug mode
Draw lines around anything inside .debug-mode. The colour of the lines is red but defers to CSS variable --debug-colour.
You can also add div.debug-info.over and div.debug-info.under inside an element to annotate the debug boxes — though you'll need to make sure to leave enough vertical space that the annotation doesn't overlap the thing above or below it.
…like this!
.debug-mode, .debug-mode *, .debug-mode *::before, .debug-mode *::after { outline: 1px solid var(--debug-colour, red); position: relative; } .debug-info { position: absolute; left: 50%; transform: translateX(-50%); font-family: 'Fira Code', monospace; font-size: 1rem; white-space: nowrap; } .debug-info.over { top: -2.5rem; } .debug-info.under { bottom: -2.5rem; } .debug-info p { margin: 0; }
@import url(https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Architects+Daughter&display=swap); @import url(https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:wght@500;700&display=swap); @import url(https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Fira+Code:wght@400;700&display=swap); /* Flopstyle CSS Theme * [2020 Wikidot Theme] * Created by Lt Flops * Select CSS Styles Are Credited Where Necessary * -- (CC BY-SA 3.0) -- **/ /* -------- SITE HEADER -------- */ a, body, span{ word-break: unset; } #header h1 a, #header h1 a::before{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 93%); text-shadow: none; } #header h1 a{ font-family: "Montserrat", "Arial", sans-serif; font-size: 170%; letter-spacing: 0; } #header h2 span, #header h2 span::before{ color: hsl(60, 62%, 85%); font-family: "Montserrat", "Arial", sans-serif; font-weight: 500; text-shadow: none; } /* -------- TOP-BAR -------- */ #search-top-box, #top-bar, #login-status{ right: 0; } #search-top-box-form input[type="submit"]{ font-size: unset; } #search-top-box-input, #search-top-box-form input[type=submit]{ background: hsl(0, 0%, 20%); border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 60%); border-radius: 0; } #search-top-box-input:hover, #search-top-box-input:focus, #search-top-box-form input[type="submit"]:hover, #search-top-box-form input[type="submit"]:focus{ background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 30%); border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 70%); } #top-bar .open-menu a{ border-radius: unset; border-width: .1em; } /* -------- SIDE-BAR -------- */ #side-bar{ background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 50%); } #side-bar:target{ box-shadow: 0 0 90px 90px hsla(0, 0%, 0%, .3); } #side-bar .side-block{ border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 20%); border-radius: 0; } #side-bar .heading{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); border-bottom: solid 1px hsl(0, 0%, 20%); } /* -------- SIDEBOXES -------- * By EstrellaYoshte * Adapted From 'Penumbra Theme' **/ .flavourText{ margin: auto; margin-bottom: .5em; padding: .25em; border: 1px solid #888; } #page-content .authorbox tr td, #page-content .sidebox tr td, #page-content .authorbox tr th, #page-content .sidebox tr th{ padding: .25em; } #page-content .authorbox tr td, #page-content .authorbox tr th, #page-content .authorbox .flavourText{ width: 15.234em; } .limit{ margin-bottom: -1rem; line-height: 141%; z-index: 5; } .limit br{ display: block; } .anchor{ position: sticky; height: 0; top: 0; z-index: 5; } .authorbox, .sidebox{ position: absolute; width: calc((100vw - 870px) / 2); max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem); margin: 0 8px 0 0; padding: .14rem; box-sizing: border-box; overflow: auto; z-index: 5; } .authorbox{ max-width: calc((100vw - 921.2px) / 2) !important; top: .5em; right: 103.5%; } .sidebox{ top: -1em; left: 103.5%; padding-left: 1em; background: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 73%); border-left: 8px solid var(--accentColor); } /* -------- Sidebox Mobile Optimization Courtesy of Woedenaz -------- */ @media (max-width: 1079px){ .sidebox{ width: auto; max-width: 65vw !important; top: .75rem; right: calc(((100vw - 45.8rem) / 2) * -1); left: initial; padding: 0 .4rem; background-color: var(--accentColor); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 73%); border-left: 8px solid var(--accentColor); border-radius: 0; overflow: visible; -webkit-clip-path: inset(-.125rem -.25rem 0 calc(100% - 1.275rem)); clip-path: inset(-.125rem -.25rem 0 calc(100% - 1.275rem)); -webkit-transition: color .2s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s; transition: color .2s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s; -o-transition: color .2s ease-in-out .1s, box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s, clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s; transition: color .2s ease-in-out .1s, box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s, clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s; transition: color .2s ease-in-out .1s, box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s, clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s; } .sidebox::before, .sidebox::after{ content: " "; position: absolute; right: 0; } .sidebox::before{ width: 0; height: 0; top: calc(50% - .75rem); border-top: .75rem solid transparent; border-bottom: .75rem solid transparent; border-right: .75rem solid var(--accentColor); z-index: 10; transition: border .1s ease-in-out .1s; } .sidebox::after{ width: 100%; max-width: .75rem; height: 100%; max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem); top: 0; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); z-index: -1; transition: box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s, max-width .5s ease-in-out .1s; } .sidebox > *{ opacity: 0; -webkit-transition: opacity .2s ease-in-out .2s; -o-transition: opacity .2s ease-in-out .2s; transition: opacity .2s ease-in-out .2s; } .sidebox:hover{ overflow: visible; -webkit-clip-path: inset(-.125rem -.25rem 0 0); clip-path: inset(-.125rem -.25rem 0 0); -webkit-transition: color .5s ease-in-out .2s, right .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s; transition: color .5s ease-in-out .2s, right .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s; -o-transition: color .5s ease-in-out .2s, right .5s ease-in-out .1s, clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s; transition: color .5s ease-in-out .2s, right .5s ease-in-out .1s, clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s; transition: color .5s ease-in-out .2s, right .5s ease-in-out .1s, clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s; } .sidebox:hover::before{ border-top: 0 solid transparent; border-bottom: 0 solid transparent; } .sidebox:hover::after{ max-width: 100%; right: 0; } .sidebox:hover > *{ opacity: 1; } } @media (max-width:768px){ .sidebox, .sidebox:hover{ right: calc(((100vw - (100% - 3rem)) / 2) * -1 + 1rem); } } @media (max-width: 1079px){ .authorbox{ display: none; visibility: hidden; } } /* -------- GENERAL -------- */ :root{ --accentColor: hsl(0, 100%, 30%); --vivid-lime-green: hsl(112, 77%, 48%); } body{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); word-break: unset; } #search-top-box-input, #search-top-box-input:hover, #search-top-box-input:focus, #search-top-box-form input[type=submit], #search-top-box-form input[type=submit]:hover, #search-top-box-form input[type=submit]:focus, #top-bar ul li ul, #side-bar .side-block, .page-rate-widget-box, .scp-image-block{ box-shadow: none; } /* -------- INFO BAR -------- */ body{ --barColour: hsl(0, 89%, 18%); } .u-faq{ display: none; } .info-container .collapsible-block-content{ padding: 0 .5em 30px; } .info-container .collapsible-block-content .wiki-content-table, .footer-wikiwalk-nav .collapsible-block .wiki-content-table{ width: 90%; } /* -------- INFO PANE -------- */ .creditRate{ margin-right: 0 !important; } .rate-box-with-credit-button{ border-radius: 0 !important; box-shadow: none !important; } .creditButton p a:hover, .creditButtonStandalone p a:hover{ color: var(--vivid-lime-green) !important; } div.credit.first .wiki-content-table { width: 100%; } /* -------- PAGE RATING -------- */ .page-rate-widget-box{ margin-right: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box, .page-rate-widget-box .rate-points{ border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel, .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a:hover{ border-radius: 0 !important; } /* -------- FORMATTING | [GENERAL] -------- */ #page-content h1, #page-content h2, #page-content h3, #page-content h4, #page-content h5, #page-content h6{ display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: center; margin-bottom: .57em; text-align: center; word-break: unset; } hr{ height: 0; margin: 1em 0; background-color: transparent; border-top: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 67%); } .collapsible-block-link{ font-size: 120%; font-weight: bold; } .info-container .collapsible-block-link{ font-size: 100%; } ol li{ margin: 0 0 1em; } ul{ margin:1em 0; } .footnotes-footer, .bibitems{ padding: 0 0 .5em; } /* -------- IMAGE BLOCK -------- */ .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption{ font-size: 95%; } .scp-image-block.block-right{ margin: 0 0 1em 2em; } /* -------- CUSTOM DIV BLOCKS -------- */ .raisa-header, .pink-header, .oracle-header{ margin-bottom: 1em; padding: 0 .5em; text-align: center; } .raisa-header{ /* ---- RAISA Notice Header ---- */ background: hsl(60, 65%, 85%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 60%); } .pink-header{ /* ---- Pretty Header ---- */ background: hsl(350, 100%, 85%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 4%, 36%); } .pink-header hr{ border-color: hsl(0, 4%, 36%); } .oracle-header{ /* ---- SPC's 'From the Desk of ORACLE' Header ---- */ color: hsl(208, 100%, 97%); background: hsl(208, 67%, 44%); border: 2px solid hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } .oracle-header hr{ border-color: hsl(208, 100%, 97%); } .img-resize img{ /* ---- Header Icons (See Example Formatting) ---- */ float: left; width: auto; height: 8em; margin: .5em; } blockquote, /* ---- Regular Quote Block ---- */ div.blockquote{ background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 96%); border: 3px double hsl(0, 0%, 60%); } .alt-blockquote{ /* ---- Alternative Quote Block ---- */ margin: 1em 0; padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 96%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 60%); border-radius: 1em; } .lightweight{ /* ---- Lightweight Quote Block ---- */ margin: 1em 3em; padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 90%); text-align: left; } .card-block{ /* ---- Decorative Quote Block ---- */ margin: 1em 0; padding: .6em 1.2em; background: hsl(220, 15%, 93%); border-left: 8px solid var(--accentColor); border-radius: .48em; } blockquote hr, div.blockquote hr, .alt-blockquote hr, .lightweight hr, .card-block hr{ border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 67%); } .log-header{ /* ---- Interview/Exploration Log Header ---- */ margin-bottom: 1em; padding: 0 1em; background: hsl(0, 0%, 96%); border: 3px dashed hsl(0, 0%, 60%); border-radius: 2em; } .report-box{ /* ---- Report Block ---- */ margin: 1em 0; padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: medium solid hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } .report-box hr{ border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } .realistic-shadow{ /* ---- Better Shadows ---- */ margin: 1em 0 2em 0; box-shadow: 0 1px 1px hsla(0, 0%, 0%, .23), 0 2px 2px hsla(0, 0%, 0%, .18), 0 4px 4px hsla(0, 0%, 0%, .15), 0 8px 8px hsla(0, 0%, 0%, .13); } .report-box.red-tint{ /* ---- Alternative Report Block Variants ---- */ background-color: hsl(360, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(360, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.red-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(360, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.orange-tint{ background-color: hsl(30, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(30, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.orange-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(30, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.yellow-tint{ background-color: hsl(60, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(60, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.yellow-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(60, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.green-tint{ background-color: hsl(120, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(120, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.green-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(120, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.cyan-tint{ background-color: hsl(180, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(180, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.cyan-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(180, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.blue-tint{ background-color: hsl(240, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(240, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.blue-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(240, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.magenta-tint{ background-color: hsl(300, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(300, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.magenta-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(300, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.grey-tint{ background-color: hsl(210, 9%, 86%); border-color: hsl(210, 15%, 42%); } .report-box.grey-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(210, 15%, 42%); } div.o5-box{ /* ---- Overseer Document Block ---- */ margin: 1em 6em; padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 75%); border: medium solid hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } div.o5-box hr{ border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } .faux-source{ /* ---- Mimics "Page Source" Appearance ---- */ margin-bottom: 1em; padding: 0 2em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: 1px dashed hsl(0, 0%, 67%); font-family: var(--mono-font); } .narration{ /* ---- Mimics the Pages of a Book ---- */ margin: 1em 0; padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 63%); } .warning-notice{ /* ---- Simple Warning Block (Adapted From 'SCP-3143') ---- */ padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-style-resource/scp_trans.png); background-position: center; background-repeat: no-repeat; border: medium solid hsl(0, 0%, 5%); text-align: center; } .warning-notice hr{ border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } .journal{ /* ---- Journal Block (Adapted From 'SCP-4003') ---- */ margin: 1em 0; padding: .9em; background-image: linear-gradient(to top, hsl(201, 33%, 84%) 0%, hsl(60, 29%, 89%) 8%); background-position: 0 8px; background-size: 100% 1.3rem; border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 80%); border-radius: .9em; font-family: "Architects Daughter", cursive; } .journal p{ margin: 0; font-size: 1.3rem; line-height: 1.3rem; } .sms-message{ /* ---- SMS Message Block ---- */ float: left; clear: left; width: 22.4em; margin: 0 0 1em; padding: 0 1.2em; background: hsl(0, 0%, 75%); border-radius: 2em; font-size: 112.5%; text-align: center; } blockquote .collapsible-block-folded, .alt-blockquote .collapsible-block-folded, .lightweight .collapsible-block-folded, .card-block .collapsible-block-folded, .report-box .collapsible-block-folded, .o5-box .collapsible-block-folded, .narration .collapsible-block-folded, .journal .collapsible-block-folded, div.blockquote .collapsible-block-folded{ /* ---- For Collapsibles Inside Divs | [CLOSED] ---- */ padding: .75em 0; /* -------- */ } blockquote .collapsible-block-unfolded, .alt-blockquote .collapsible-block-unfolded, .lightweight .collapsible-block-unfolded, .card-block .collapsible-block-unfolded, .report-box .collapsible-block-unfolded, .o5-box .collapsible-block-unfolded, .narration .collapsible-block-unfolded, .journal .collapsible-block-unfolded, div.blockquote .collapsible-block-unfolded{ /* ---- For Collapsibles Inside Divs | [OPEN] ---- */ padding-top: .75em; /* -------- */ } /* -------- FORMATTING | [SPECIAL] -------- */ .centered{ /* ---- Center-Aligns Text ---- */ text-align: center; } .justified{ /* ---- Justify-Aligns Text ---- */ text-align: justify; } .indented{ /* ---- Indents Block by ½-inch/2em (Use Within Other Divs) ---- */ text-indent: 2.4em; } .indented .bibcite, .indented .footnoteref, .indented ul, .indented ol, .indented .scp-image-block.block-right, .indented h1, .indented h2, .indented h3, .indented h4, .indented h5, .indented h6, .indented .scene-break, .indented .footnotes-footer, .indented .bibitems{ text-indent: 0; } .rev-red, .rev-green, .rev-blue, .rev-yellow, .terminal-span{ font-weight: bold; } .rev-red{ /* ---- Red Document Revision Text ---- */ color: hsl(360, 100%, 27%); } .rev-green{ /* ---- Green Document Revision Text ---- */ color: hsl(120, 100%, 27%); } .rev-blue{ /* ---- Blue Document Revision Text ---- */ color: hsl(240, 100%, 27%); } .rev-yellow{ /* ---- Yellow Document Revision Text ---- */ color: hsl(40, 100%, 40%); } .terminal-span{ /* ---- Computer Terminal Text ---- */ font-family: var(--mono-font); font-size: 110%; letter-spacing: .3px; } /* ---- Blinking Text Cursor (Adapted From 'Your Very First SCP!') ---- */ .blinkbar{color: black; animation: blink 1.5s infinite;} @keyframes blink{to{opacity: .0;}} @keyframes flicker{0% {opacity: .9890; }5% {opacity: .5842; }10% {opacity: .9865; }20% {opacity: .0412; }20% {opacity: .6255; }25% {opacity: .3157; }30% {opacity: .7328; }35% {opacity: .4654; }40% {opacity: .9128; }45% {opacity: .2449; }50% {opacity: .5485; }55% {opacity: .6438; }60% {opacity: .1180; }65% {opacity: .9085; }70% {opacity: .0266; }75% {opacity: .6795; }80% {opacity: .7812; }85% {opacity: .0117; }90% {opacity: .2239; }95% {opacity: .8897; }100% {opacity: .2260; }} @keyframes overlay-anim{0% {visibility: hidden; }10% {visibility: hidden; }11% {visibility: visible; }50% {visibility: hidden; }100% {visibility: hidden; }} .lite-heading{ /* ---- Special Heading Area (Adapted From 'SCP-4058') ---- */ clear: both; margin: 3.6em auto; } .lite-heading h3{ color: hsl(360, 100%, 27%); } .lite-heading hr{ width: 55%; margin: auto; border-width: medium; } div.image-showcase{ /* ---- Alternative Image Showcase ---- */ width: 25em; margin-bottom: 1em; background: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: 3px ridge hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } div.image-showcase.block-center{ margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto; } .scene-break{ /* ---- Fancy Scene/Section Break ---- */ width: 3.5em; margin: 2em 0; } .listPagesNav{ margin-bottom: 5em; } .listPagesNav-prev, /* ---- ListPages Navigation (Adapted from 'SCP-5552') ---- */ .listPagesNav-next{ width: 45%; margin: 0 0 1em; padding: 0 2%; background: hsl(0, 0%, 90%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 60%); } .listPagesNav-prev{ float: left; text-align: left; } .listPagesNav-next{ float: right; text-align: right; } .fade-away{ background: linear-gradient(to bottom, hsl(0, 0%, 95%), hsl(0, 0%, 5%)); } .footing::before{ /* ---- Page Footing ---- */ content: " "; position: absolute; bottom: 1px; left: 0; right: 0; border-bottom: 2px solid hsl(0, 0%, 47%); } .footing{ position: relative; bottom: -2px; margin-bottom: 2px; border-bottom: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 47%); } .related-flex{ /* ---- Related Articles Box ---- */ display: flex; justify-content: center; } .related{ margin: 1em 0; padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: thick solid hsla(0, 0%, 60%, 0.5); text-align: left; } .series-nav{ /* ---- Series Navigation ---- */ margin: .5em 0; background: linear-gradient(to bottom right, hsla(0, 0%, 100%, 1), hsla(0, 0%, 50%, .5)); border: outset 1.5px hsl(0, 0%, 5%); border-radius: 2em; font-size: 85%; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; } /* -------- ADVANCED WARNING HEADER -------- * Adapted From 'SCP-001-JP - indonootoko's Proposal' * See the Example at the Top of the Page **/ .orderwrapper{ position: relative; width: auto; text-align: center; } .council{ position: relative; top: 0; bottom: 0; left: 0; right: 0; width: 295px; height: 295px; margin: auto; background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-style-resource/scp_trans.png); background-position: center; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: 295px 295px; } .ordertitle{ position: absolute; top: 27px; left: 0; right: 0; } .ordertitle h1{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); font-size: 220%; line-height: 90%; } .orderdescription{ position: absolute; top: 93px; left: 0; right: 0; width: 100%; } .orderdescription h1{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); font-size: 120%; } .orderdescription p{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); font-size: 90%; } .itemno{ position: absolute; bottom: 18px; left: 0; right: 0; } .itemno h1{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); font-size: 170%; } /* -------- YUI TAB BASE -------- */ .yui-navset .yui-nav a,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{background-color:inherit;background-image:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover,.yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{background:inherit;text-decoration:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover{color:inherit;background:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{border-color:inherit}.yui-navset li{line-height:inherit} /* -------- YUI TAB CUSTOMIZATION -------- * Adapted From 'Black Highlighter Theme' **/ .yui-navset *{ transition: color 80ms cubic-bezier(.4, 0, .2, 1), background-color 80ms cubic-bezier(.4, 0, .2, 1); } .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{ display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; width: calc(100% - .125rem); margin: 0 auto; border-color: hsl(360, 94%, 20%); box-shadow: 0 calc(.0625rem * 5) 0 0 hsl(360, 94%, 20%); } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, /* ---- Link Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [UNSELECTED] ---- */ background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 99%); /* -------- */ background-image: none; border: unset; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 96%); /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [HOVER] ---- */ background-color: hsl(360, 100%, 27%); /* -------- */ } .yui-navset .yui-nav li, /* ---- Listitem Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li{ position: relative; display: flex; flex-grow: 2; max-width: 100%; margin: 0; padding: 0; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 96%); border-color: transparent; box-shadow: 0 0 0 .0625rem hsl(360, 94%, 20%); } .yui-navset .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-bottom .yui-nav li a{ display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; width: 100%; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li em{ border: unset; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a em, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a em{ padding: .35em .75em; text-overflow: ellipsis; overflow: hidden; white-space: nowrap; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected, /* ---- Selection Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav .selected{ flex-grow: 2; margin: 0; padding: 0; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [SELECTED] ---- */ background-color: hsl(360, 94%, 20%); /* -------- */ } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em{ border: hsl(360, 94%, 20%); } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a{ width: 100%; color: hsl(0, 0%, 96%) !important; background-image: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:active{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 96%); background-color: hsl(360, 94%, 20%); } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover{ cursor: default; } .yui-navset-left .yui-content{ /* ---- Content Background ---- */ background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 99%); /* -------- */ } .yui-navset .yui-content, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-content{ padding: .5em; border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 60%); } /* -------- PAGE TAGS -------- */ #main-content .page-tags{ border-top: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 73%); } #main-content .page-tags a{ display: inline-block; height: .8125rem; margin: 0 0 .5rem .75rem; padding: .1875rem .3125rem .1875rem 0; color: hsl(0, 0%, 95%); background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 27%); border-bottom-right-radius: .25rem; border-top-right-radius: .25rem; line-height: 13px; line-height: .8125rem; font-size: 11px; font-size: .6875rem; font-weight: normal; } #main-content .page-tags a:before{ width: 0; height: 0; top: -.1875rem; left: -.625rem; padding: 0 .0625rem .1875rem; border-color: transparent hsl(0, 0%, 27%) transparent transparent; border-style: solid; border-width: .5rem .5rem .5rem 0; } #main-content .page-tags a:before, #main-content .page-tags a:after{ content: ""; position: relative; float: left; } #main-content .page-tags a:after{ width: .25rem; height: .25rem; top: .2813rem; left: -.5rem; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border-radius: .125rem; } #main-content .page-tags span{ max-width: 100%; border-top: .5rem solid transparent; } /* -------- INTERWIKI -------- */ iframe.scpnet-interwiki-frame{ position: relative; width: 15.734em; height: unset; margin-bottom: .78em; margin-left: 4px; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: 2px solid hsl(0, 0%, 20%); } /* -------- SHOW-CHANGES HIGHLIGHTS -------- */ .inline-diff ins::before{ color: hsl(240, 100%, 93%); } .inline-diff del::before{ color: hsl(0, 100%, 90%); } .inline-diff ins + del::before, .inline-diff del + ins::before{ color: transparent; } .inline-diff br + ins::before, .inline-diff br + del::before, .inline-diff ins:first-of-type::before, .inline-diff del:first-of-type::before{ position: absolute; display: inline-block; left: -1em; content: "\f111"; font: normal normal normal 16px/1 "FontAwesome"; text-rendering: auto; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -moz-osx-font-smoothing: grayscale; } /* -------- PRESENTATION -------- */ .templateInfo{ margin: 1em 0; padding: 0 1em; background: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 87%); } /* -------- CROQSTYLE ALTERATIONS -------- */ #edit-page-textarea{ font-family: unset; } tt{ background-color: unset; font-size: unset; padding: unset; margin: unset; border-radius: unset; } /* -------- REDUCED MOTION ACCESSIBILITY -------- */ @media (prefers-reduced-motion: reduce){ *, *::before, *::after{ animation-duration: .001s !important; animation-iteration-count: 1 !important; transition-duration: .001s !important; } } /* -------- MOBILE MEDIA QUERY -------- */ @media (max-width: 479px){ #header h1 a{ font-size: 85%; } div.image-showcase{ width: 90%; } div.o5-box{ margin: 1em 0; } } /* -------- NOTE MEDIA QUERY -------- */ @media (min-width: 480px) and (max-width: 580px){ #header h1 a{ font-size: 100%; } div.image-showcase{ width: 100%; } div.o5-box{ margin: .5em; } } /* -------- MINI TABLET MEDIA QUERY -------- */ @media (min-width: 581px) and (max-width: 767px){ #header h1 a{ font-size: 120%; } } @media (max-width: 767px){ .open-menu a:hover{ box-shadow: none; } } /* -------- TABLET MEDIA QUERY -------- */ @media (min-width: 768px) and (max-width: 979px){ #header h1 a{ font-size: 140%; } }
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is to be restrained with normal Class-B non-anomalous humanoid restraints. Subject is to be fitted with a full body straightjacket at all times, with no skin exposed, except when performing experiments. Subject is
Description: SCP-XXXX appears to be a male human of Mediterranean descent in his mid-thirties, 195 cm (6'5') Tall, and 79.3 kg (175 lbs), with brown hair and amber eyes.
SCP-XXXX is capable of consuming, and excreting food, but extended testing has revealed that SCP-XXXX does not need to eat food. If historical records and first hand accounts are to be believed, SCP-XXXX is incapable of aging, or ages at a rate significantly lower than baseline humans (current analysis indicates at a rate of 1: [redacted])
SCP-XXXX requires a supply of animal biomass to create instances of SCP-XXXX-1, and appears to be incapable of manifesting when it is not in contact with an equivalent amounts of biomass. Ingesting biomass appears to be unnecessary, as simple contact with any form of biomass will begin to drain the substance, until it rapidly goes through multiple states of decay. SCP-XXXX can store biomass through some anomalous means without increasing its own mass, so any nutritional or anomalous biomass intake and excretion requires constant monitoring.
SCP-XXXX-1 is the designation given to instances that manifest when SCP-XXXX comes into contact with human remains. When SCP-XXXX comes into contact with human remains possessing at least 60% of the deceased's original bone structure, a process of regeneration occurs. Human tissue appears to move from SCP-XXXX to the deceased, rebuilding the deceased's nervous system, musculature, and epidermis, until an instance of SCP-XXXX-1 is completely manifested, perfectly imitating the appearance of the deceased person.
SCP-XXXX-1 instances can be identified by a lower temperature at or approaching room temperature.
[Redacted from here:
DNA testing of SCP-XXXX-1 instances has found exact matches with the original remains. Additionally, most SCP-XXXX-1 instances report similar memories to the original deceased, even when the brains of the deceased had passed the the putrefaction stage of decomposition.
Instances of SCP-XXXX-1 are often outwardly near-indistinguishable from the human their remains originated from, with several major exceptions. Of note is an increased submission to authority. SCP-XXXX-1 instances are consistently rated as several times less aggressive towards authority figures, and have shown increased deference to command structures they were exposed to within 48 hours of resurrection.
Additionally, while SCP-XXXX-1 instances are visually indistinguishable from baseline humans, X-ray analysis and dissection has revealed an internal bone structure identical to the original remains. Despite the often advanced state of decomposition the original remains possessed, the instances do not seem impaired by incomplete, or structurally impaired skeletal structure. Research is ongoing concerning how this occurs, but SCP-XXXX-1 instances appear no more durable than baseline humans, leading to current speculation being centered around an "anomalous skeletal structure" keeping the remains mobile and responding to damage.
SCP-XXXX-1 instances do not possess any specific technical or tactical knowledge from the human that possessed their remains. However, the level of personal knowledge the instance possesses of their body's former hosts appears to be tied to the amount of the original bone structure used in their manifestation.
:End redaction]
SCP-XXXX is generally hostile to all Foundation personnel, though this is unlikely an ingrained response, and instead a result of the circumstances of it's current captivity. Foundation psychologists speculate that given to its advanced lifespan, SCP-XXXX could delayed emotional acuity and become more docile with more time in captivity.
SCP-XXXX refers to itself as "Nemesis". Evidence indicates this is likely a pseudonym, but as most information related to SCP-XXXX is degraded beyond repair, Foundation psychologists are encouraged to use this designation when conversing with SCP-XXXX.
Appendix 1: Circumstances of Acquisition: SCP-XXXX was brought to the Foundation's attention on []/[]/[] during standard Foundation monitoring of ORIA transmissions in the region of [_].
[ORIA transmission on []/[]/[__]
Director Jafari: Report.
ORIA Researcher #1 (Speculated to be Dr [redacted] [redacted]): Director, we have uncovered multiple artifacts from the archaeological site relevant to our interests, but there has been a complication.
Director Jafari: What kind of complication?
ORIA Researcher #1: In the process of excavating the artifacts we found another archaeological site buried underneath it. It is far older than our initial findings.
Director Jafari: Are they relevant to our interests?
ORIA Researcher #1: Unlikely, they are far older than the initial remains. But if we leave them alone, [redacted] militants will likely loot this site, which I believe is wholly unique.
Director Jafari: You came there for a specific reason, Doctor, don't lose site of that.
ORIA Researcher #1: Sir, there are hieroglyphs here.
Director Jafari: …Egyptian hieroglyphs? Out here?
ORIA Researcher #1: Yes, and they look genuine. Sir, we can't leave these here.
Director Jafari: …very well. Continue with the excavation. But be warned, the political instability in the region is hampering our ability to send support without someone noticing. If you can't get those artifacts with the tools you have, bury it, booby trap it, and we'll come back for it later.
ORIA Researcher #1: Understood, sir.
Director Jafari: Oh, and Doctor, when you have time, ask your security retainers about what the phrase "Mission creep" means.
]
[ORIA transmission on []/[]/[__]
ORIA Researcher #1: We have broken through into some kind of chamber, the hieroglyphs all appear to be warnings of some kind, though without an Egyptologist, we cannot be sure. Addittionaly, there is some kind of noise coming from a sealed room, almost like someone is knock-
Director Jafari: -Very well. Continue digging.
ORIA Researcher #1: Sir, I have concerns-
Director Jafari: As do we all, Doctor. You are in charge now, and you must ensure that God smiles on what you do.
ORIA Researcher #1: …very well sir.
]
Note: Analysis indicates that Director Jafari likely realized The Foundation was monitoring his transmissions, as after this point, transmissions began providing noticeably less actionable information until this transmission on []/[]/[__].
[ORIA transmission on []/[]/[__]
ORIA Researcher #1: Send help, he is taking over the compound!
Director Jafari: Doctor, this line is compromised-
ORIA Researcher #1: I DON'T GIVE A SHIT! I think he's already killed the entire protection detail, I don't know how many researchers are left, please, I need help.
Director Jafari: …take anyone who remains and go north, there are operatives in the village of [Redacted] who can shelter you-
ORIA Researcher #1: You don't understand, he's building an army, some little village won't-oh god, he's here
Unknown voice: *Unintelligible dialect later identified as Ancient Sumerian*
]
Note: At this point the transmission was cut off at the source, however the transmission from ORIA's headquarters continued for another 15 seconds afterwards.
[
Director Jafari: Doctor? Doctor, respond.
Director Jafari: …dammit.
Director Jafari (Switching to English): Well, silent heretics? What are you waiting for? ORIA has lost enough resources on this venture. I believe this is your area of expertise now.
]
The Foundation was already allocating resources for an intervention, but political complications had made the process difficult. Foundation air assets were easily inserted under the guise of nearby forces, but the only Foundation ground assets capable of interception were MTF-Delta-90, "Desert Sandstorm", a combat squad assigned to a nearby archaeological dig.
Due to the danger in leaving the archaeological team without it's protection, and their relevant expertise to the current situation, the archaeological team was brought along.
[MTF's approach on Humvees/foundation equivalents
]
SCP-XXXX see
[
SCP-XXXX-1.1 (In Ancient Greek): *The Minoans invaded [Modern Cyprus] and ransacked one of the larger cities, necessitating an intervention by the Egyptians, but the fascinating thing was that Ramses, realizing that the Hittites were becoming stronger, formed a temporary truce.*
Dr. Matrice: *Amazing. How-*
-knock on the door behind them-
Delta-90-A: Doctor, you have a call.
Dr. Matrice: *Sorry. Have message.*
SCP-XXXX-1.1: *Of course.*
-Dr Matrice leaves the room, entering the observation room-
Dr Matrice: Command, this SCP is incredible, he has first-hand knowledge of the Bronze Age before the collapse, he could be an invaluable source of information on ancient civilizations, maybe even ancient SCP's, just give me a bit more time and I can get him to come with use voluntarily-
[Redacted]: This is O5-04
Dr Matrice: …Clearance code?
[Redacted]: Delta-Epsilon-[Redacted]-[Redacted]-[Redacted]-[Redacted]
Dr Matrice: Delta-Epsilon-[Redacted]-[Redacted]-[Redacted]
Dr Matrice: Oh god, I am so sorry, Ma'am.
[Redacted]: Do not worry about it, Doctor. I am calling to inform you that your request for geospatial intelligence has been approved. The Foundation has a Predator drone in the air above the village, and I wished to send the feed to you personally.
Dr Matrice: Of course, Ma'am, it's loading now…
Dr Matrice: …hang on. This is a thermal read, right?
[Redacted]: Correct.
Dr Matrice: This…this is a village of over three hundred. There should be heat signatures for all those people. And where are the livestock? There are things moving there, but…
Dr Matrice: …can you get me a live feed of the SCP instances stationed just outside of here? Thermals and visual?
[Redacted]: Patching MTF-Delta-90's feeds in now.
Dr Matrice: The warm humanoid shapes in body armor are Delta-90, so the cold shapes are…Oh…oh good lord.
[Redacted]: …
Dr Matrice: …they're SCP instances. All of them. The entire town. And they can only manifest-
[Redacted]: Doctor Matrice. You are currently the foremost expert on SCP-XXXX, and de facto leader of this operation.
Dr Matrice: …Yes Ma'am.
[Redacted]: Do I need to assign someone else to lead this operation?
Dr Matrice: …
[Redacted]: Doc-
Dr Matrice: …I recommend Saturation bombing. Ideally, wipe out the village outright, but if not then settle for just killing as many instances as possible, Delta-90 and the rest of us can dispose of the rest.
[Redacted]: …done.
Dr Matrice: SCP-XXXX is pretending to be a footsoldier in the retinue accompanying SCP-XXXX-1, I'm presuming you would prefer it captured alive?
[Redacted]: Correct.
Dr Matrice: …do you need any SCP-XXXX-1 instances alive?
[Redacted]: Redundancies are to be eliminated.
Dr Matrice: Yes Ma'am.
-Transmission ends, and Dr Matrice gestures for Delta-90-A to follow him into the interrogation room.-
SCP-XXXX-1.1: *Ah, Doctor, how was your message?*
Dr Matrice: *Bad news.*
SCP-XXXX-1.1: *I am sorry to hear that.*
Dr Matrice: *You will be.*
SCP-XXXX-1.1: *…what?*
Dr Matrice: *What happen to village you came from?*
SCP-XXXX-1.1: *We are protecting it from invaders, they are fine, we can show you them.*
Dr Matrice: *…why are you still lying?*
SCP-XXXX-1.1: *…my master likes playing politics, and get a lay of the land.*
1-instance explains that the SCP likes screwing with local governments because that's the best way to make them fall
claims that his master is the end of all things/destroyer of empires
…maybe make this an ORIA operative who was co-opted by SCP-XXXX and make insinuations as to how when they're revived, instances imprint on the organization they first encounter (ORIA operative feels a pull towards the Foundation, but SCP-XXXX got there first) then maybe as a last act of fealty to his master, or as a way to kill themself, he lunges for the doctor, who shoots him (or Delta-90-A shoots him…nah, the doc doing it is more interesting).
something something something Delta-90-A shoots the instance in the head.
Addendum: [Optional additional paragraphs]
First page of the tabs…
Item #: SCP-XXXY
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXY instances should be psychically attached to non-violent groups of no less than 20 people via [redacted] means. Such groups should be meta-physically detached from other SCP-XXXY instances via inter-group rivalries and if such rivalries do not exist, RAISA is authorized to incite inter-group conflict through any means necessary.
All agents assigned to monitor instances of SCP-XXXY must be screened for any current affiliations with sports teams, food chains, or government institutions attached to SCP-XXXY instances.
Description: SCP-XXXY instances vary wildly in size, shape, and color, however they are generally humanoid in appearance, with exaggerated features, such as an engorged head and disproportionate limbs. Additionally, many sport some kind of non-human deformity, such as an animal skull, a non-biological skull, or disproportionate limbs.
Their skin near universally has a similar appearance and texture of generic fabric, though there have been instances of their skulls having a more solid, plastic consistency.
SCP-XXXY instances are psycho-parasitic entities that feed off of the collective metaphysical characteristics of human social groups. These instances often take forms unrelated to their in-groups, but their behavior will often mirror the most extreme versions of their in-group's choices.
This psychic-parasitism often creates a feedback loop, where the SCP-XXXY instance encourages, through anomalous, and non-anomalous means, greater group cohesion, interdependence, and fanaticism among it's members. In turn, those collective psychic projections increase the power of SCP-XXXY instances.
The first instance of SCP-XXXY, dubbed SCP-XXXY-1, was contained by the Foundation in 1964. It manifested somewhere in New York City, and attached itself to the local baseball team, increasing participation and enthusiasm amongst players and fans alike.
As normal containment and concealment protocols appeared to be both costly (requiring the amnesticization of hundreds of individuals) and unnecessary, The Foundation underwent a disinformation campaign, providing a backstory and paper trail to make it appear like SCP-XXXY-1 was a natural publicity stunt by the New York Mets.
While this is the first recorded instance of the Foundation interacting with an instance of SCP-XXXY, Foundation researchers have raised the possibility that other SCP-XXXY instances have been manifesting as far back as the bronze age, being many of the mythical figures of legend.
As time progressed into the 70's, more and more instances of SCP-XXXY began manifesting, attaching themselves to other sports teams of various leagues and locations. Foundation policy XXXY-F was formalized, wherein the instances were monitored and quietly integrated into existing sports teams, as the efforts to conceal the remove of all instances of SCP-XXXY would be far too costly.
However, this policy changed, as in 1979, an SCP-XXXY instance, SCP-XXXY-124, manifested in St Louis. For whatever reason, speculated to be because St Louis's collective psyche hadn't coalesced behind a singular figure like Philadelphia, or New York, the SCP-XXXY
Appendix 1: Circumstances of Acquisition:
O5 rejects outright the idea of a Foundation specific mascot
foundation is about saving the world, they're also about power, influence, and absolute control. What happens if a foundation mascot turns the foundation into a north korea but with scp's. What if the foundation mascot manifests a nuclear warhead?
As of now, SCP-XXXY will be reclassified as Keter. - O5-7
Daily Log: USS Scranton SSN-756
Date: 2/10/20[]
- 9:23 AM Sonar Technician [ ] notices anomalies in the composition of undersea topography, reports it to Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Michael Phillips, who confirms the topography doesn't match with current maps of their area of movement.
- 10:42 AM LCDR Phillips orders full diagnostics of sub systems.
- 10:50 AM Captain Jeremy Phelps is woken, and informed of the problem.
- 2:00 PM Inertial Guidance systems are discovered to be malfunctioning, and had been for several days. Given that the USS Scranton had been underwater for that time, and relying on Inertial Guidance systems to navigate, the undersea topography anomalies were ascertained to be because the Sub was off course.
- 2:15 PM Calculations indicate the USS Scranton was potentially [000] Miles off course, putting it outside its area of operations.
- 2:20 PM Captain Phelps orders the USS Scranton to surface, and use GPS to ascertain their exact location.
- 3:08 PM GPS places their precise location at [] N:[]E, outside their engagement area.
- 3:09 Captain Phelps places a call to US Navy command informing them of their problem.
- 3:15 Captain Phelps orders the USS Scranton to dive, and proceed to Los Angeles for repairs.
- 4:24 pm As the USS Scranton is leaving, an undersea earthquake is recorded. No Damage reported.
Journal Entry of Michael Phillips
2/10/20[]
Today was…weird. Had a nav error, which was weird enough, but at least that was kind of routine. We're heading back to Los Angeles so that'll be nice.
But that's not the weird part. Right as I'm about to crash, we get this undersea earthquake. It was close, and not like a small one either. But get this, I was on sonar with the technician at the time, double checking we're in the right bit of ocean, so I get the full blast from the shockwave.
Here's the weird part, under the sound of the earthquake, I would swear I heard explosions…and another sub.
I got a recording of the event and I'm gonna fiddle with it a bit, see if I can clear out the background.
2/11/20[]
That's not just any sub. I recognized it's sound, so I ran the clean version of the noise through a recognition algorithm three times to double check.
First, those are definitely explosions under the earthquake.
Second, that's a Los Angeles-Class sub making those explosions.
One of ours is having a war under here.
I need to tell the captain.
Daily Log: USS Scranton SSN-756
Date: 2/11/20[]
- 6:00 AM Shift change occurs, Captain Phelps is relieved by LCDR Phillips
Journal Entry of Michael Phillips
2/12/20[]
I…probably shouldn't be writing this down, but, fuck it. Not like I'm publishing this anytime soon…or ever.
The Captain told me, in confidence, that yes, it was one of our subs. The USS Miami, on some shadowy assignment in the south Pacific. I didn't press much, probably above my pay grade.
If I really want to know, I can always Joe and ask. Actually, that reminds me, I still need to wish him a happy birthday!
Addendum: "Joe" is Lieutenant Joseph Halverson, an engineer serving aboard the USS Miami
Daily Log: USS Scranton SSN-756
Date: 2/17/20[]
- 8:56 PM USS Scranton arrives in Los Angeles, with the crew granted leave for two weeks while the sub undergoes repairs.
Call transcript: [ ]-[ ]-[ ] from 650-[ ]-[ ]
-*Call is dialed*-
LCDR Phillips: Come on, come on, dial tone dial tone…
Voicemail: I'm sorry, the number can't be completed as dialed, please-
LCDR Phillips: Hey Joe, just wanted to call and let you know, Happy Birthday! I'll owe you a party when our leaves line up-
LT Halverson: Mike?
LCDR Phillips: Joe? You're back already?
LT Halverson: Yeah, we put in for leave like two days ago! Something about our propulsion was fucky so put in early for a full overhaul.
LCDR Phillips: Wait, propulsion? Then how'd you beat us back-wait, sorry, not supposed to know that.
LT Halverson: You alright there Mike?
LCDR Phillips: Yeah, sorry, just wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday!
LT Halverson: Thanks man! Like a week late, but thanks dude.
LCDR Phillips: Hey, bottom of the ocean doesn't have great cell reception. You're lucky I gave you the call within the month. But hey, listen, I'll make it up to you. I'm in LA, why don't we drive out and get some beers?
LT Halverson: Uh, I think I'm a bit out of range for a day trip.
LCDR Phillips: Awww, come on. San Diego's not that far…unless you're in SF, but I can still swing that-
LT Halverson: Mike. I'm in New York.
LCDR Phillips: …what?
LT Halverson: Yeah, the Miami's been in the Atlantic for like, three weeks dude.
LCDR Phillips: Huh…uh. Okay. I uh…well, Happy Birthday Joe! We'll have a pub crawl later, I gotta go…do something-Bye!
LT Halverson: Wait, Mike-
-*Call is ended*-
Journal Entry of Michael Phillips
2/17/20[]
…I should probably leave this alone.
The Captain could have just misspoke.
Those could have been actual earthquakes, not explosions.
…Eh, screw it, not like I'm doing anything else on leave.
2/20/20[]
Okay, definitely not publishing this anymore, but whatever.
The sub was an LA class, I know the sound of it like I know my own heartbeat, so that narrows it down by a lot.
There's only 32 in active service right now.
4 I can find via satellites in storage.
10 are in refits/overhauls according to the conspiracy theorists/military porn people online. 4 in NYC (not counting Miami), 2 in Norfolk, 3 in Portsmouth, and 1 in San Diego.
I called up a friend of mine at Navy Command, Sheryl, and asked as innocently as possible about the other active LA's without it technically being leaking state secrets. Sheryl being Sheryl, she got me rough locations for another 8 within an hour and didn't even ask what I was doing with them after I gave her one of my older bourbon bottles.
I even called up some other friends in the service who were on leave (Or whoever picked up their phone in the meantime). That took…a little bit of work, not going to lie, but I got another 5 out that.
So that's…27 subs accounted for. I would be worried for Navy InfoSec if it weren't so helpful.
Unfortunately, none of them were anywhere near where we were, IE North Pacific. Most of them weren't even in the same ocean, weirdly enough. But at least I got it down to five subs.
But I put in some voicemails to Jesse, Tim, and Hera so hopefully they'll get back to me and solve my mystery.
Addendum: "Sheryl" is Lieutenant Sheryl Bailey in the Office of Naval Intelligence. She and Phillips served together on the USS Tuscon several years prior.
Addendum: "Jesse" is Lieutenant Jessica Landsbury of the USS Alexandria, "Tim" is Lieutenant commander Timothy Jackson of the USS Asheville, and "Hera" is Captain Hera Jarrus of the USS Topeka.
2/22/20[]
Still five more subs to go. I called up Sheryl, but even two bottles of Bourbon wouldn't convince her to help me any more unless I told her what it was for.
I don't really blame her, to be fair, I did start sounding like I was a double agent or something trying to steal state secrets.
Of course, her worry about InfoSec was clearly not as strong as I thought because as soon as she heard that the Scranton detected another sub in the North Pacific she immediately agreed to help me.
While she's haranguing the local ONI office for information, I'm continuing to trawl the internet.
I'm gonna look back over the subs the military porn guys saw, check if they were LA class, maybe they missed some.
2/23/20[]
I don't know how she did it, and I suspect I don't want to know, but Sheryl found the locations for another three subs, all in different oceans.
Which is good because it turns out one of the damn conspiracy shots of an LA-class was actually one of those new Seawolf-class subs instead.
unfortunately, the trail's pretty much cold at this point, after this long, that sub could be anywhere. But Sheryl's like a bloodhound at this point. If there's anything more to be found, she'll get it.
2/26/20[]
I'm getting a little worried about Sheryl. She's starting to look a little frantic, and when I visited her house earlier I found documents days old waiting to be filled out.
Given her tendency to hyperfocus, I'm going to take her for drinks. Calm her down a bit. No point in a little mystery causing her to spiral.
2/26/20[] (later)
I didn't get the chance to take her to the bar. She barged past me and practically forced me to take her to my house, whereupon she stole some of my finest booze and told me the secret would be found out in a few hours.
Call transcript: 650-[ ]-[ ] from 650-[ ]-[ ]
-*Call is dialed*-
LT Bailey: Mike, I found it.
LTCDR Phillips: Sher? Jesus Christ, what time is it-
LT Bailey: No, you gotta wake up, Mike I found your sub!
LTCDR Phillips: …I'm up. You serious?
LT Bailey: Yep. Sort of. Maybe. Definitely.
LTCDR Phillips: Sheryl, you're killing me with the suspense. And the sleep deprivation.
LT Bailey: Look, let's just say, ya girl got the general vicinities of the Pasadena, and the Topeka.
LTCDR Phillips: …and?
LT Bailey: The Baltic. Apparently the Russians are testing some new weapon and they wanted the Pasadena and Topeka to keep an eye on it.
LTCDR Phillips: That's…okay, that's two more subs, right? So the total-
LT Bailey: Thirty-one! So by process of elimination it is…
*Sound of a drum roll coming from LT Bailey's end*
LTCDR Phillips: Sher, it's like three in the morning, spit it out.
*Huff of annoyance from the other end*
LT Bailey: Fine. It's the Alexandria. Every other sub's accounted for except for her, so it has to be the Alexandria.
LTCDR Phillips: Thanks Sher, I owe you one.
LT Bailey: You owe me a LOT, bucko. But this one's on me, I love a tidy little mystery. G'night Mike!
LTCDR Phillips: G'night Sher, get some goddamn sleep.
-*Call is ended*-
2/27/20[]
Well, the Alexandria, huh? Guess that mystery's solved…course I could've solved it sooner if Jesse had picked up the damn phone. And I would've saved some good bribing booze.
…Actually, I wouldn't put it past Sher to just steal my booze and come up with the info later. I'll need to keep an eye on her alcohol drawer next time I'm over.
Call transcript: 650-[ ]-[ ] from [ ]-[ ]-[ ]
LT Landsbury: Mike?
LTCDR Phillips: Jesse? What's up?
LT Landsbury: You tell me, I found several VERY annoyed voicemails from you when I came back from shore leave. I don't think you were that needy when we were dating.
LTCDR Phillips: Oh, that, sorry, had a bit of a mystery on our hands.
LT Landsbury: "Our" hands?
LTCDR Phillips: Me and Sher, we were trying to figure out where the Alexandria was.
LT Landsbury: …do I want to know why?
LTCDR Phillips: Ehh…it's kinda not important. We figured it out anyway.
LT Landsbury: Uh huh. I'm going to pretend like that didn't imply you two committing a security breach of secure information.
LTCDR Phillips: Hey, we did nothing illega…I did nothing illegal.
LT Landsbury: Uh huh.
LTCDR Phillips: …
LT Landsbury: …this is the part where you hang up, Mike.
LTCDR Phillips: Right, sorry about bugging you. Hope your time in the Pacific was fun!
LT Landsbury: See ya Mike. Tell Sher I said hi. And also tell her whatever source you two were using is crap, the Alexandria was above the Arctic Circle.
LTCDR Phillips: Wait, wha-
-*Call is ended*-
2/28/20[]
I should let this go. Maybe we missed something. Maybe one of the subs was double counted. Maybe that's why there's 33 subs but the US only owns 32.
…dammit.
2/29/20[]
San Diego. Goddamn San Diego why did I not notice that?
Those explosions were big, big enough to cause damage, so the sub needs repairs, right?
So it limps back to base for repairs, and the ONLY port with facilities to house it are in San Diego.
Only to be spotted by one of those military porn guys, and posted to reddit for me to completely miss.
…the weird thing is, it doesn't actually look like a military base.
3/1/20[]
I called up Sheryl again. If the previous mystery had her interested, this had her salivating. Oddly enough though, when she consulted some less than scrupulous grapevines, we learned the facility the sub was being held in wasn't owned by the Navy, ONI, or the Marines.
I tried texting the original poster of the picture, but he'd forgotten he'd taken the picture. Additionally, the reddit post was taken down for some reason. Luckily I had a backup, though we couldn't get much from it.
After coming up short on internet and intelligence searches, I eventually remarked that we could just drive to San Diego to see it.
Sheryl had already dialed her CO to request leave before I could even get out of my chair.
I'm still curious and excited, but…something about all this is worrying me.
3/1/20[]
We passed pretty close to the front of the building, and it sure as hell seemed military, what with the armed guards and whatnot. But nobody's got patches or anything, and we caught them talking about "Private security".
We're heading to a nearby hill to see if we can see the sub.
3/1/20[] (later)
The hill didn't give us a good view of the sub. In fact, we couldn't even see it. I guessed that it's out to sea now, but Sher pointed out that the windows into the indoor dock were covered, so it was probably still inside.
After that we just waited, and waited. Sher began counting guard rotations, like we were going to break into the compound, but honestly I think it was just to stave off boredom after her phone died.
Hang on, there's a commotion, I'll write later.
3/1/20[]
They pulled someone out. I think that's what happened, at least? He came out on a stretcher, the binoculars we had weren't great, but even we could see he wasn't good. They had some of the guards hold him down so he didn't hurt himself or others.
It's….it's creepy.
Naturally, upon hearing "creepy" Sher suggested we follow the ambulance taking him away to see what happened to him.
3/2/20[]
…
…
They took him to a hospital ward. One of the bigger ones, lots of rooms. We didn't go in, but…
We saw through one of the windows. There were at least a dozen people in cots like his, most in Navy-style uniforms. All with that dead look in their eyes and body restraints.
But the worst part?
One of the nurses checked all the windows, and I swear she saw me looking in.
I'm starting to think we might be out of our element.
3/2/20[]
Sheryl and I spent the night in the car, in a side street a mile from the warehouse. We decided one more day of watching, then pretending we never saw anything afterwards.
There's more activity today. More guards on rotation, tighter security, everything's on high alert.
We might have to leave early or else we might be in trouble.
Hold on, something's happening.
3/2/20[]
We saw it. Big, LA class submarine, pushing itself out into the water. Sheryl saw it too, so clearly I'm not hallucinating. We got some pictures to prove it to ourselves later, but…
…it might be the angle of the shot, or the way we're looking at it, but those look like suction cup marks on the sub.
But that's impossible, it's reinforced steel.
Right?
3/3/20[]
We made it back to Los Angeles. We don't know what we saw, but we know when we're supposed to keep our mouths shut, so we're planning on just pretending it never happened. Besides, my leave is just about up, so I need to prep for another run out to sea.
tldr:
-he's given more leave
-thinks people are following him (they are)
-sheryl is becoming paranoid too
-eventually he confronts his captain to ask to be let onboard…and the captain just gives him a sorry look
"…that's why you're giving me leave, isn't it? So these guys can take me." Captain gives the story of a friend of his who went missing after dealing with "charitable foundation" (or better yet, is amnesticized, and then disappears to work with the foundation)
-he calls sher to ask her, but she's not picking up.
-eventually the foundation shows up and offers to take him on a ride
IE see what caused that to the Nautilus (the sub)
-(Casual mention "How do you even have the resources for this? This is US military tech, I've worked with this." The operator chuckled. "Who do you think we got it from."
-they show him anantashesha and give him the offer.
-there's an obituary from three weeks later of him drunk driving and dying
-same as log from the top, only with LTCDR Phillips of the SCPS Nautilus doing a routine patrol of SCP 3000
Item #: SCP-XXXZ
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: The wilderness area within 30 miles of Site 65 is to be constantly monitored by a variety of specialized anti-personnel measures including drones, motion sensors, and nonlethal entanglement traps. All road signs and online documentation of routes into the town adjacent to SCP-XXXZ are to be embedded with class-E cognitohazards that subconsciously suggest to viewers that they should not stop, or settle in any residences within SCP-XXXZ's radius of effect.
To maintain the facade to SCP-XXXZ that it is not under surveillance, the town of Elysium, the only real settlement adjacent to the anomaly, has been allowed to remain relatively undisturbed by Foundation agents. However, all information going in and out of SCP-XXXZ shall be monitored by Foundation webcrawlers to ensure that should any of the residents of Elysium discover the existence of SCP-XXXZ, the information will be limited in dispersal while Foundation agents can administer amnestics.
Additionally, all shipments of goods into Elysium are to be administered by Foundation shell corporations, and all staff involved are to be vetted Foundation agents to ensure no anomalous elements are allowed into the town to disrupt its normalcy.
While the cognitohazards should dampen between 70-80% of all traffic to and from Elysium, any more aggressive measures are barred, by order of the 05 Council. Any new residents moving into Elysium are to be monitored via surveillance drone, and the AIAD division for a minimum of 2 months to ensure they will not disrupt the normalcy of the town, but no further actions within the town are to be taken.
Amnestic use within Elysium is to be limited. Any actions within the town are to be enacted within the pattern of normalcy established already. MTF deployments are to be disguised as non-anomalous interventions by local or regional law enforcement.
Description: SCP-XXXZ is a semi-memetic entity residing approximately five miles below the town of Elysium, located in the Shenandoah Caldera in West Virginia. The origins of SCP-XXXZ are unknown, but current data indicates that it is in a symbiotic relationship with Elysium and it's residents.
SCP-XXXZ was discovered on 2/7/2005, when Foundation operatives were investigating reports of anomalous seismic activity in the surrounding area. Said investigations were conducted under the auspices of a surveying team from the US Fish and Wildlife service. It wasn't until Foundation personnel entered the town that the primary effects of SCP-XXXZ came into being.
One of the more junior operatives made the mistake of engaging with a local resident, who turned out to be a professional cartographer, in a similar role in the US government. Said operative was unable to completely obfuscate their mission, leading to a class-C "Breach in the Veil" scenario, where the cartographer attempted to contact their superiors for more information.
Fortunately, the rest of the team was able to detain the civilian before they were able to contact their superiors, and a Foundation amnestics team was dispatched to the area.
Prior to the amnestics team's arrival, both the junior operative, and the civilian began to come down with a rapid-onset disease, resulting in the two of them experiencing major organ failure in a matter of hours.
By the time the amnestics team had arrived, a biological containment team was dispatched. Notably, the seismic phenomenon that the original team had been investigating began to increase, correlating approximately when the truck crossed the town lines.
It wasn't until the biological containment team arrived that SCP-XXXZ's secondary effects came into the fore, with a earthquake measuring a 2.3 on the Richter scale occurring, centered directly on the town.
Foundation teams already on-site were diverted to assist the civilian populace, with additional backup called in to evacuate the teams and the civilians from the area.
Foundation helicopters passing within the 30 mile radius towards the town subsequently generated another earthquake, measuring a 3.1 on the Richter Scale.
As the helicopters passed the 15 miles radius towards town, a 4.0 earthquake was registered in the town, at which point the de-facto head of the Foundation teams on site, making an educated guess based on local folklore, called off the helicopters, and they were recalled.
Smaller aftershocks continued to rattle the town until all Foundation personnel were evacuated, at which point the tremors ceased.
Further testing, with the assistance of the local government, revealed that threats to "normalcy" in the town produced various defense mechanisms by SCP-XXXZ.
| Disruption to "Normalcy" | Counter-reaction by SCP-XXXZ |
|---|---|
| A Foundation operative is placed in a role in the town law enforcement arm. | No change detected |
| Foundation operative releases, without bail or documentation, another operative who was arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct the prior night. | Said operative finds squad car lightly vandalized |
| Foundation operative attempts to install overtly anomalous security measures within the 30 mile radius around the town | A sinkhole swallows the security measure whole, requiring the operative to hire a non-Foundation work crew to dig it back out |
| The non-Foundation work crew accidentally comes into contact with the security measure | The work crew's equipment and transportation were all caught in a non-lethal rockslide. No injuries or major damage to equipment reported. |
| Amnestics are applied to the work crew, with memory issues explained as head-trauma, and the company is compensated for their damages via wire transfer | No change detected |
| Low Level cognitohazards added to the signs entering and exiting the town, implementing subconscious desires to either stay away, or pass through Elysium | No change detected |
It appears that SCP-XXXZ doesn't like overt methods of keeping the town under control, but subtle methods seem to work fine. Guess we'll have to cordon off the area around the town. Shouldn't be too hard, it's in a caldera, there's only one road in and one road out. - Researcher [Redacted]
[WARNING: ACCESS TO FOLLOWING INFORMATION RESTRICTED TO THOSE WITH 04-XXXZ CLEARANCE LEVEL]
Item #: SCP-XXXZ
Object Class: Thaumiel
Special Containment Procedures: The wilderness area within 30 miles of Site 65 is to be constantly monitored by a variety of specialized anti-personnel measures including drones, motion sensors, and nonlethal entanglement traps. All road signs and online documentation of routes into the town adjacent to SCP-XXXZ are to be embedded with class-E cognitohazards that subconsciously suggest to viewers that they should not stop, or settle in any residences within SCP-XXXZ's radius of effect.
SCP-XXXZ-1 is to be monitored and kept up continuously by MTF-Zeta-65 "Nursing Roams", with use of SCP-XXXZ-1 allowed via Level 4 authorization in the interests of protecting SCP-XXXZ from attack, or in the interests of dissuading investigation into SCP-XXXZ.
The safety of all SCP-XXXZ-2 instances is of the utmost priority, with members of MTF-Zeta-65 authorized to use lethal force in ensuring their continued wellbeing. However, all SCP-XXXZ-2 instances are to be considered armed and dangerous at all times, if not necessarily hostile.
Special Containment Procedures: SCP XXXZ is the town of Elysium, located in the Shenandoah Caldera in West Virginia.
The Foundation was alerted to the existence SCP-XXXZ when a portion of a former American experimental weapons facility unexpectedly came online, and began disrupting the local environment. Formed in 1942, it was developed in tandem with the Manhattan Project, as a direct response to reports of Soviet biological weapons against Nazi Germany. Four years later, the project was discontinued, in favor of the Manhattan Project, which was judged to be more lethal, and cost effective.
Due to the anomalous nature of the project, the physical building (SCP-XXXZ-1) and the weapons within (SCP-XXXZ-1-1 through 37) were abandoned, with the documentation subsequently redacted and classified.
On 1/12/2005, parts of the building's rudimentary electronics and containment measures deteriorated to the point where the on-site security systems activated, with advanced (for the time) automated weaponry activating some of the anomalous weaponry inside.
Of particular note was a protoype WE-3 Earth-manipulation cannon (SCP-XXXZ-1-1), that was connected to various rudimentary alarms and radar systems around the town of Elysium. When vehicles passed certain areas of road, the system would activate, creating minor seismic events to deter potential attackers. When Foundation personnel came to investigate the anomalous events, they inadvertently set off the alarms, creating earthquakes with increasing power each time, resulting in significant damage to the town's infrastructure.
While investigating this, the Foundation team came across a UIU agent, posing as a US government cartographer, who was investigating the same phenomenon. The agent was subsequently detained, pending amnesticization. Unfortunately, due to having more information than the Foundation agents involved (the redacted government files surrounding the case), the UIU agent had already found the compound, and come into contact with SCP-XXXZ-1-2, a strain of smallpox that had breached containment at some point during the intervening decades. Said agent accidentally infected a Foundation operative before a rudimentary quarantine was put in place, and a biological containment team was called in.
At that point, the nature of SCP-XXXZ-1 was discovered by accessing the UIU agent's belongings, at which point the teams proceeded to the compound, and attempted disinfection.
Unfortunately, Foundation helicopters, called for evacuation, breached the 30 mile radar radius around SCP-XXXZ-1, at which point SCP-XXXZ-1-1 was automatically activated, only stopping when Foundation personnel on the ground called off the choppers.
The Foundation was eventually able to discover the systems running SCP-XXXZ-1, and disable them, allowing a more full and complete emergency response. Unfortunately, between the plague and the earthquake, a large chunk of the town's population was killed or wounded, to the point where mass amnesticization efforts were unnecessary given how few were alive, let alone aware of what had occurred.
| Proposal: Nightcap |
|---|
| Abstract: [See Below] |
COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY:
| YEA | ABSTAIN | NAY |
|---|---|---|
| O5-01 | ||
| O5-02 | ||
| O5-03 | ||
| O5-04 | ||
| O5-05 | ||
| O5-06 | ||
| O5-07 | ||
| O5-08 | ||
| O5-09 | ||
| O5-10 | ||
| O5-11 | ||
| O5-12 | ||
| O5-13 |
| STATUS |
|---|
| APPROVED |
We are cold. Not cruel. We owe it to these men and women. - 05-12
SCP XXXZ is the town of Elysium, located in the Shenandoah Caldera in West Virginia. It is the former site of SCP-XXXZ-1, a US experimental weapons research facility, but after the facility was decommissioned by the Foundation, events which involved the near-depopulation of Elysium, the town has been repurposed as a Foundation retirement site.
SCP-XXXZ-2 instances are residents of the town of Elysium, almost all of which are former Foundation researchers, lab techs, engineers, soldiers, and management.
At the ends of their tenure, Level 2 or below Foundation operatives are released back into the general populace with class-A amnestics to ensure they can't leak information about the Foundation in their retirement. However, Level 3 clearance operatives and higher, or operatives with particular connections to/information about anomalies are deemed too important to the stability of the Foundation to amnesctitize and release back into the wider world. Many Level 3+ operatives abandoned their families and former lives to join the Foundation, so integration into civilian work would be nigh-impossible, even without amnestics clouding their ability to function.
As such, the town of Elysium, SCP-XXXZ, located in a strategically advantageous position, with limited entry, and natural barriers via the caldera it's situated in, was repurposed to serve retired Foundation employees.
The formal SCP-XXXZ entry, and the various countermeasures to "contain" the anomaly, are defensive measures designed to make ensure the safety and secrecy of the former Foundation employees within Elysium.
However, the lack of overt countermeasures within Elysium is a conscious decision, to ensure that the former Foundation employees can also live a peaceful retirement, earned via years of service.
| Proposal: Human Restoration |
|---|
| Abstract: Transfer safe-class, amnesticized, humanoid SCP's to Elysium for containment. Elysium, as it is comprised almost entirely of ex-Foundation staff, would be just as well monitored as a normal SCP site, without generating the stressors that come with standard humanoid confinement. |
| STATUS |
|---|
| PENDING |
| Proposal: Lifetime Appointment |
|---|
| Abstract: [See Below] |
COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY:
| YEA | ABSTAIN | NAY |
|---|---|---|
| O5-01 | ||
| O5-02 | ||
| O5-03 | ||
| O5-04 | ||
| O5-05 | ||
| O5-06 | ||
| O5-07 | ||
| O5-08 | ||
| O5-09 | ||
| O5-10 | ||
| O5-11 | ||
| O5-12 | ||
| O5-13 |
| STATUS |
|---|
| APPROVED |
Knowledge of SCP-XXXZ's true nature is restricted to 05 level clearance, as knowledge of the ability to retire from the Foundation is likely to result in decreased efficiency when dealing with lethal anomalies.
Additionally, members of the 05 Council are banned from entering Elysium.
Sorry 12. Those other operatives serve us well. But we have too much knowledge, and too much blood on our hands. 05's don't get to retire. - 05-1
The air was hot and oppressive.
Doctor Shelley quietly, and she hoped, subtly, fanned her face with her hand to relieve some of the heat. A noise in the other room had her hand quickly back at her side as she stood alone in the living room of the clay hut.
She could hear soft voices wafting from the bedroom, the lack of doors bringing the tone, but not the words to her ears.
Her fingers twitched instinctively to cast a spell to improve her hearing, but she resisted her curiosity. Shelley had been in the remote village for the better part of a month trying to gain their confidence, convincing them that she was a representative of the World Health Organization, and then spent another week trying to convince them that she wasn’t, strictly speaking, a member of the World Health Organization, but she still wanted to help them. Blatant displays of magic might break what little trust she’d managed to build.
So Mary tamped down her curiosity, and waited, fingers anxiously tapping her side.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, an elderly woman, wrinkled and wizened, walked in, a young Pakistani boy following, hand in hers.
Shelley looked to the woman, speaking via a subtle translation spell in Urdu. “Is this little Sirhan?”
The woman nodded slowly.
The doctor slowly squatted to look the boy in the eyes. He couldn’t have been more than five years old, and even then he was small for his age, likely because of malnutrition. He turned away slightly and pressed his face into his grandmother’s robes.
Mary’s heart broke a little, and she spoke even softer. “Hey. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m a doctor.”
His grandmother spoke in a rasping, heavily accented version of english. “He…is hurt. In mind. Ever since he lost parents to…disease.” She looked down to Sirhan. “Sirhan, this woman is here to help you. But she needs to know what’s afflicting you.”
His arms stayed glued to his grandmother’s leg, but he turned slightly to look at Shelley, still squatting at his height. She smiled softly, trying to be as nonthreatening as possible.
“Hello.” she continued. “Your grandmother says you have a…problem?”
He nodded slightly.
“Can you…show me?”
He worriedly turned to his grandmother with a look of terror, but her quiet nod seemed to calm his anxieties.
For the first time, he spoke. “I…can’t do all of it. Only on the full moon. And when that happens it's…bad.”
The doctor smiled more broadly. “That’s perfectly fine. Just show me the most you can do right now.”
His grandmother slowly backed away from him, and the boy just stood there, twiddling his fingers anxiously, before stopping, and closing his eyes.
He breathed deeply, before his small face scrunched up into one of intense concentration.
Nothing appeared to happen, until his fingers started to tremble, and his nails began to elongate.
Hair, normally confined to his head, began to spread down his face, and sprout from his arms and shoulder.
A low, guttural growl came from his body as he grew several inches in the span of a second, and his grandmother did the sign of the cross, quickly looking from him to the windows, worried about the sound carrying.
Shelley, meanwhile, had become perfectly professional, eyes scanning over every aspect of the boy’s transformations, mentally comparing claw size, hair growth, and height change.
Eventually, the boy’s transformation stopped, his body now almost half of Shelley’s height, with claws, and fur sporadically spread over his skin.
Shelley began to wave her fingers in front of the boy, little arcs of light appearing in front of her.
“I’m just taking…pictures…of your insides.” She said offhandedly, as the boy and his mother looked at her.
The doctor quickly pulled out a militarized version of a smartphone, and quickly took photos as the arcs of light, arranged like a rudimentary X-ray, shifted with the boy’s movements.
When she was satisfied with her observations, she put away the phone, and waved away the light.
“Okay Sirhan, you can turn back.” She said evenly.
As the boy’s hair and claws receded, accompanied by another massive effort by the kindergartner, Shelley motioned to the grandmother to talk privately.
In a quiet corner of the room, they began to talk.
“Well?” The older woman said worriedly,
Shelley sighed. “He’s definitely a werewolf. Type-1 or Type-2”
“I don’t-” “He will be able to control the transformations until he hits puberty.” Shelley interrupted the woman. “Then he’ll start becoming more animalistic during the full moons. It’s a…hormone thing.”
“Hormone thing?” The grandmother asked, confused.
“Chemicals. The more adrenaline, testosterone, estrogen overriding the human brain, the more easily the lycanthropy takes over.” She said, trying to explain it as simply as possible. “When did his parents succumb?”
The old woman sighed. “His mother had some kind of control for about 7 months after infection. Then she gave birth, and tore her way into the wilderness. His father was already dead by that point.”
The doctor nodded “That would make sense. The stress of childbirth definitely would have sent her over the edge. Honestly it’s amazing she lasted that long without a permenant transformation, she must have been strong.”
“She was.” The old woman said with a smile, before her expression turned to one of sadness. “How long does he have before it becomes permanent?”
“Never.”
The old woman started, and looked at her in complete confusion.
Shelley smiled sheepishly. “There are…magic groups…in the world. Lycanthropy has been a problem for a very long time. There are treatments. They won’t help his mother, but, caught early, like now? He can live a normal life…well, except during full moons.”
The doctor tactfully didn’t mention that aggressive lycanthropy, barring certain occult ceremonies, had been wiped out in western countries for decades, they just hadn't put an effort into Pakistan and the rest of the world, but her train of thought was abruptly cut off by the grandmother, who had thrown herself at Mary.
The hug was tight, and desperate, as the old woman wheezed out words through her sobs.
“Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you…” She whispered into the aid worker’s shoulder.
Mary gently rubbed the woman’s back as Sirhan looked at his grandmother in confusion.
Eventually, the old woman regained her composure, and coughed, standing up straight.
“What treatments does he need?” She asked in as even a voice as she could muster.
Once again, the doctor didn’t mention the advanced potions, cellular evolutions therapy, or the other, far more stable, and faster methods that were unavailable in the barren mountains of Pakistan, and she instead pulled out an amulet.
It was a glowing blue crystal, on a thin gold chain.
“This will…extract…some of his magic into it over the rest of the month. He will be more aggressive, and eat more meat. But it will hopefully take enough of his wolf magic for him to control himself during full moons.” She said, gently putting it over Sirhan’s head.
“Ideally…” She continued with a hint of guilt in her tone “We would have him monitored. But given the situation here, this is the best we can do.”
“You have already given us the world.” The grandmother said quietly, as the boy fiddled with the pendant. “Thank you.”
Mary nodded, before an expression came upon her face that indicated she had more questions.
“What?”
The doctor indicated she wished to talk, away from the boy, and the old woman left him alone, for them to talk privately.
“…it is about his mother, isn’t it?” The old woman said in english, when she walked over.
“…yes.”
“…she is not savable?”
Mary sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s been too long. We…need to stop her and her pack. Before they infect more.”
The old woman hung her head. “…there’s a valley, with forest inside of it, just off the road. There have been dead animals-”
The distant rumble of a large vehicle interrupted them.
The two women looked at each other, and Mary recovered from the shock first.
“Go!” She said, shooing the grandmother away. “Take Sirhan and hide, I’ll deal with them.”
The old woman quickly shuffled forward, whispering to her grandson, as Mary prayed she could deal with whatever was out there.
“Excuse me, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The doctor shouted in as commanding of a voice as she could.
The jeeps and troop carriers that had rumbled into the tiny village disgorged soldiers, all of them wearing Pakistani flags identifying where they came from.
The captain, a burly man with an impressive beard and even more impressive aviator sunglasses, looked at the tiny american woman storming towards him with amusement.
“We are rooting out insurgents.” He said with an amused smile in heavily accented english. “There are reports they are smuggling weapons through this town.”
“Weapons, are you serious?” She said with a layer of sarcasm and disbelief. “Look at their homes, do you think these people need or want gunrunners in this town?” she continued, waving her hand at the dirt huts littered about.
The man simply raised an eyebrow, before saying “Do you even know who these people are?”
Mary pulled in a breath, before releasing it. Her voice quieted slightly. “They are Pakistani citizens who are entitled to-”
“Those are not Pakistani citizens!” the man nearly roared.
“Regardless of their faith they are legally-” Shelley tried to continue, only for sounds of shouts to erupt from behind her.
“No-Please, you can’t take it!”
That voice was all too familiar to Mary, and she whipped around to see Sirhan and his grandmother-the soldiers restraining them and pulling off his crystal pendant.
The doctor quietly reached a hand into her pocket and blue magical flames flowed into her armored phone.
Simultaneously, she whipped around, and moved towards the captain, finger poking him in the chest.
“That is a medical device and your men have no idea what it is-” “On the contrary, doctor, we know exactly what that is.”
Mary’s eyes flashed with blue and a pentagram formed on the man’s chest.
“You will give that boy his pendant-” She was cut off with a rifle butt to the face, sending her to the ground. Her phone fell out of her pocket, face down, and the other soldiers grabbed her arms, roughly pulling her to her feet as her vision swam slightly from the force of the hit.
“I…am with the World Health Organizaattion.” She said, slurring her words slightly.
“That is a lie.” The captain said, cutting her off as a man handed him the pendant. “When we said we were looking for terrorists, we were not talking about those idiots with AK-47’s, we were talking about you, and your Global Occult Coalition.”
He held up the pendant to the light, the gold and crystal shining in the hot stifling heat. “Fascinating…”
Shelley desperately tried another tactic. “If you know who I am, you know why I’m here. I’m with the World Parahealth Organization. We just want to help your citizens.”
“Pfft.” The man scoffed as he pocketed the pendant. “These wretches are not Pakistani citizens. And you are just another colonizer promising the world to make us dependent on you.”
“Please.” She whispered. “Please, we are so close to wiping out this strain of lycanthropy, please. You can’t just hate them because they’re werewolves, they don’t have a choice in that!”
The captain smiled, a wretched and evil thing, before leaning in towards the woman’s face, whispering so only she could hear him.
“It is not that they are werewolves. It is that they are christian. Be happy we are simply leaving them to their fate.”
He pulled back. “Get her in the truck! And if she uses any more magic-” He stared at the doctor for emphasis. “Break her hands.”
As they drove away in a cloud of dust, neither they, the weeping grandmother, nor the rest of the town watching in shock paid attention to the armored smartphone lying in the dirt.
If they had, and flipped the phone over, they would have noticed that the magical blue flames had coalesced into a five pointed star in a circle. And the phone itself displayed only two words:
Transmitting Audio
Two hours later, Director DC Al Fine, formal head of the Global Occult Coalition, was sitting at her desk in a nondescript room in the UN’s headquarters.
“Is this confirmed to be their military, not some random terrorists?” she asked imperiously of her assistant.
“Yes, ma’am. Satellite imaging tracked the truck leaving the outskirts and entering a Pakistani Military compound in-” “Understood. Who’s our rep with Pakistan, he should be getting on this.”
“That would be Ambassador Parker, Ma’am, and he ought to be reporting in momentarily.”
“Good, we’ll wait for his take on this before moving. But in the meantime, put all our teams in Pakistan on alert.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“And I want STRIKE on 1 hour readiness.”
“Of course, Ma’am.”
The Pakistani Prime Minister was a busy man. Between terrorism, other states trying to bully his country, and domestic issues, he was used to people barging through his door. However, he hoped that his position would at least entail a knock before people came and brought him bad news.
That was not the case now, as a man in a suit damn near threw the door off of its hinges in his haste to enter, his harried assistant following behind him.
“Sir, you can’t go in there, SIR, if you don’t stop I will have to call security-”
“Minister Nahk what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The American man almost shouted.
“…” The Prime Minister raised an eyebrow, and quietly pulled out an iphone from his desk, placing it on the table between them. “Is this an official visit?” He said with careful wording.
“You’re goddamn right it’s an official visit.” Parker growled, slamming a UN badge down on the table with his name on it. He whispered a code-phrase in latin, and an encircled glowing five pointed star etched itself into the card.
“Bibi.” The PM said, turning from the card to address his assistant in Urdu. “Please leave us alone, and halt all my calls for the next half hour.”
“Yes sir.” She said quickly, disappearing through the door.
“…are you going to take a seat, Mr Parker?” The Prime Minister said, gesturing to the seat across from him.
“No, Yousef, I think I’ll stand.” The man growled. “Several hours ago, the Pakistani military detained Doctor Mary Shelley for no stated reason. She’s a member of the World Parahealth Organization, a member organization of the GOC, and is part of the UN humanitarian mission here, we want her released.”
“Hmmmm….” The Prime Minister feigned thinking for just long enough to infuriate the UN representative. “No, I think not.”
“…what?” Parker said in a dangerous tone.
“Doctor Shelley was assisting terrorists, a clear violation of Pakistan’s laws.” He said in an even tone.
“She was treating children.”
“She was in an area with known terrorist sympathies, assisting them.” “They are just rural farmers, just because they’re christian-” “And if you keep pushing this issue, she will be treated like any other terrorist Pakistan captures.”
“…the GOC and the UN don’t ask for very many…restrictions…on your actions within your own country.” Parker said quietly, “But by doing this, you are violating your charter with the Global Occult Coalition and the United Nations.” The rune on his UN badge started glowing brighter, turning red.
“Not in the eyes of the Pakistani government.” The Prime Minister said evenly, and turned on the iphone lying between them. A black rune, a pentagram with various scripts on the inside appeared on it’s screen, immobile, before it began moving.
A sphere of black script expanded from the phone, engulfing the room, and dissipating the glowing rune on Parker’s ID card.
Parker started, and coughed slightly, hands already trying to summon magic to diagnose what it was the Prime Minister had done, but nothing was coming to him.
His hands simply waved circles in the air, and Minister Nahk’s smile grew with every movement.
The Ambassador stopped, and just stared at him.
“…what the hell have you done?”
“What I have needed to.” He said smugly, turning away from the man to look out the window. “This is the work of Inter-Services Intelligence's newest division. Thanks to them, we have our own magicians now. Pakistan no longer needs the services of the Global Occult Coalition.”
He paused, and his eyes flickered to the man again, filled with contempt.
“Now, call up your GOC, and tell them to get the hell out of my country.”
Parker angrily grabbed his card, and pointed at his opposite. “You will regret this.”
Nahk looked back out the window, dismissing him.
“We stood without the British. We will stand without the GOC.”
The GOC ambassador stormed out, barely getting out of hearing range of the PM’s assistant before pulling out a phone.
“Hey Director. We’ve got a problem.”
Another three hours after her call with Ambassador Parker, Director DC Al Fine was in the strange, mystical liminal space where the Council of 108 member organizations met to discuss the GOC’s future actions.
Naturally, as with any hallowed, miraculous space filled with the most important people on earth…everyone was shouting.
“How the hell does Pakistan think they can get away with kicking us out?” Came a loud voice coming from the representative of the Knights Templar.
“They clearly have mystical resources out of the GOC, enough that they think they can afford to do that, but the better question is how they did this without our knowledge?” the hallowed voice of the Silicon Nornir exclaimed from across the room.
The Church of Satan’s spokesman piped up as well, adding “We are a branch of the United Nations, do they intend to leave the UN too? What about the WHO? If this turns into a real-politic mess this is going to escalate to an unmitigatable scale. We’re looking at a collapse of normalcy.”
The Paramahansa Mandali representative interjected “This is already a real-politic mess, India’s prime minister has quietly reached out to us, offering military assistance against pakistan.”
The hallowed voice of the Silicon Nornir jumped in as soon as the Mandali representative was done, over other voices conversing amongst each other over the revelation. “Military assistance? Does India think we’re going to invade?”
“We don’t know.” The Mandali representative clarified. “But the offer appears to be genuine.”
“They’re nuclear powers, we can’t just pit them against one another like children on a playground.” the Church of Satan exclaimed in horror. “China, the US, and others are going to be watching this play out, if we do that it could start a war.”
The hallowed voice of the Silicon Nornir piped up again, “How did India even learn about this, it’s been less than 24 hours since this debacle started-”
The World Parahealth Organization, previously leaving the politics to the organizations that cared about that kind of thing, interrupted. “Are we just going to ignore our own people at risk here? That is what started this whole incident.”
This set off another round of shouting and arguing amongst the quorum, and as this was at least partially taking place in a mystic-psychic room, it was giving the director a splitting headache, until finally, one voice shouted down the rest.
“ENOUGH.” The voice of the Knights Templar rumbled through the construct, silencing the various voices and arguments. “Secretary-General. The decision eventually comes down to you. What, exactly, are you going to do to deal with this.”
DC Al Fine took in a deep breath, and straightened her back, before speaking evenly.
“I’m going to give Prime Minister Nahk exactly what he wants.”
Two days later, Prime Minister Nahk’s phone was ringing. It had started ringing almost a minute ago, but he’d purposefully let it continue ringing, choosing to shuffle around papers, until he felt that the “unknown number” had been put on hold long enough to establish dominance.
He pulled the phone to his ear.
“Well, Secretary General?” He said dismissively. “What are you calling a Prime Minister outside of your jurisdiction for? Are you going to threaten me? Curse us with flood, locusts, and lice?”
The voice on the other end was cold, and emotionless.
“No.”
“No?” He said, unable to keep the genuine surprise out of his voice.
“No. I’m only calling to tell you that the Global Occult Coalition is pulling out.”
Nahk’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Really?”
“Really.” She continued. “Every single GOC member organization, member, spell, and sigil is pulling out of Pakistan.”
The Prime Minister was still suspicious, but he decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth. “…well, I am glad we could come to an amenable agreement-” He was interrupted by an aggressive knock on his door.
He turned to it with a contemptuous look, he’d cleared his entire day for this call. “Who the hell is interrupting-” “You’re going to want to answer that.”
He looked at the phone, a sinking feeling curling into his gut. His silence was broken only by the phone.
“Go on, Prime Minister, open it.”
A glowing rune, burned into the sage brush, was rapidly fading away into embers, and footprints leading away from it were headed towards a nondescript military building on the horizon.
“…come in!”
His assistant barged in, carrying dozens of papers she was desperately trying to bring to him. “Sir, something’s wrong, Lahore is experiencing random earthquakes, there’s a military base sinking into the ground in the north, Karachi’s sky just turned red-”
“Enough!” He said, and only then, did his assistant realize the leader of Pakistan was gripping his phone hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. “Leave the papers. I will handle it.”
She quietly put the papers on his desk, and scurried out.
Nahk stared at the phone with an undisguised rage he hoped carried through his tone to the smug woman on the other end.
“…what the hell did your Coalition of witches and necromancers do?”
Shimmers in light passed without notice close to the wall nearest the edge of the Pakistani military complex.
Said shimmers moved on, leaving only a small package, like clay with various wires poking into it, attached to the wall.
“It’s not what we did. It’s not what we’re not doing.” the Secretary General said with serene calm.
“Pakistan has over a dozen Coalition sites across the entire country.” She continued. “Some mundane, some…less so. But every damn one of them has a purpose. Some preserve little pockets of Fae civilization. Some are medical facilities working on lycanthropic plagues we were on the verge of eradicating.”
An american woman, battered and bruised from her rough treatment in the prior days, was sitting on her nondescript bed, simply staring at the jail bars. Because of that, she noticed the barely perceptible shimmer as light was redirected around a figure that stopped in front of her cell.
“Are you Doctor Mary Shelley?” The shimmer said gruffly.
“…yeah.” she said quietly, getting up and stretching.
The shimmer passed her a bulletproof vest through the bars, and a fabric that changed colors when she touched it.
“Put those on, and get ready to run, Ma’am.”
“Oh, and then there are the portals to hell.” Nahk’s room shuddered at her words. “…one of which is on the edge of Islamabad.”
Nahk, who had rushed to his window, and found smoke and brimstone coming from the edge of the city, finally recovered his voice.
“You dare? With one phone call, I could call up a firing squad for your cultist in our care!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that.”
“Watch me!” He pressed a dedicated button on his phone, about to give the order.
Somewhere, hundreds of miles away, in a remote corner of Pakistan, a phone rang in the military base where Doctor Shelley was held.
Said phone was on the floor, cracked down the middle by the rather gratuitous amount of C4 that had been used to make a hole large enough for Doctor Shelley to move through, and the various bodies of the poor grunts who had tried to keep her there were strewn throughout the hallway.
The small notification screen on Prime Minister Nahk’s phone said rather ominously “Caller Not Found”
“I told you.” the director said from her end of the line.
“…what did you do?” Nahk said weakly into the receiver.
“When I said we were getting all of our people, I meant all of them.” She said, ominously, before hanging up. "Good luck with that hell portal."
As his phone let out a dial tone, another shudder rocked his room, and his assistant furiously knocked on his door again.
Nahk simply sat down, and placed his head in his hands.
Two Weeks Later, Director DC Al Fine, of the Global Occult Coalition, got a call.
She let it ring for several seconds, instead taking a long sip from her coffee, before finally pressing the button to answer it.
“Director Fine here.” She said evenly.
“…this is Prime Minister Liaquat Narim. Minister Nahk has been…replaced…by our ruling party.”
“Congratulations then, Prime Minister. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“…” There is a long, pregnant silence on the other end of the line before he speaks again. “…Pakistan would like to rejoin the Global Occult Coalition.”
The Secretary General got up, and looked out over the east river before responding. “Hmmm…no.”
“No!??!!?” The fear and confusion is evident even through the speakers on the phone.
“No.” She continued, firmly. “The Council has several concerns about Pakistan's mystical involvement in the GOC.”
“Are you serio-”
“Problems that need to be solved before Pakistan can rejoin, and we can deal with your…paranatural issues.”
His tone was laced with desperation and anger. “…what do you want?”
“Dismantle ISI’s Paranormal Resources Division. All of its resources go to the GOC.”
“That’s insane!” He almost shouted. “Pakistan has a right to magical protections-”
“The GOC was Pakistan’s magical protection.” She said evenly. “And part of that deal was that Pakistan didn’t make military arms involving magic, at least without consulting us first.”
“Our people won’t just rely on-” “How is the upper east side of Islamabad?” She interrupted, conversationally. “Are your residents enjoying the smell of brimstone?”
“…” The silence was tense.
Director Fine took a sip of coffee and continued. “The rules were clear, you broke them. The Council and the rest of the UN is furious. This is the best deal you’re getting. Every second you waste it will get worse.”
After what seemed like an eternity, the line spoke up again.
“…fine. You have a deal.”
“Good. STRIKE Teams are on their way and will be in the area within the hour. Warn your people not to try shooting them down.”
Before the man could respond, she hung up, and went back to enjoying the view of the East River.
DC Al Fine was back in the mystical quorum, in front of the Council once more. Only this time, instead of angry arguing, the various representatives were all silent, focused on her. Somehow that made it many times more intimidating for her.
The spokesperson for the Church of Satan spoke up. “Hundreds of Pakistani citizens are injured, with many dead, and Anti-Lycanthropy efforts in the area have been put back years.”
“And relations with Pakistan have been soured. If it ever gets out that you played games with the lives of its people, there will be riots in the streets.” The Paramahansa Mandali representative added.
The figure representing the Knights Templar spoke up the inevitable question. “Do you have anything to say?”
DC Al Fine held her head up high with an even look on her face, before speaking.
“It worked.”
There was silence in the room as the various representatives all looked at each other.
“She is correct.” The Hallowed Voice of the Silicon Nornir said, breaking the silence. “We have run the calculations. Director Fine’s actions, while…extreme, caused less damage than a long term withdrawal by the GOC from Pakistan.”
The Paramahansa Mandali representative spoke up again. “We feel the need to state that India, at least, is lessening its own magical militarization efforts after this. Knowing we are keeping its rival's magical militarization in check soothed some of their concerns.”
“While we don’t condone the violence or the extreme measures-” The rep from the World Parahealth Organization said quietly. “Doctor Shelley has been recovered safely, and for that we are grateful
The Knight Templar spoke up again “All of that aside, you played a game of chicken with the Pakistani government, Secretary-General.”
“No, sir.” She said, clarifying. “I won a game of chicken with the Pakistani government. Because that's what you all hired me to do.”
The silence permeated the room, before it was broken by the Knight Templar again.
“…agreed. All in favor of adjourning this review meeting?”
A silent vote passed, and each of the lights of the council members blinked out as they logged off, until it was just the Director, and the representative of the Knights Templar left in the space.
“…sir?” She said, cautious.
“…the ISI’s magical assets were advanced. Very advanced.” He mulled over out loud. “Our lack of knowledge about that buildup is concerning enough, but that aside, what if they had figured out how to cage the Threat Entities we’d let out? Replicate our wards that we used to cage them.”
“Trust me. They wouldn’t.” she said evenly. "Those threats weren't initially caged with magic."
The representative was silent, simply staring at her, waiting for her to elaborate.
She smirked slightly. “A little secret, sir?” Director Fine whispered across the liminal space.
“I don’t play chicken.”
When Director Fine finally left the meeting, returning her consciousness to her body that was still sitting in the chair in her office, she got up, and left.
She quickly informed her assistant that she was going out for coffee, summoning the requisite armed security escort that came with her position, and hiked to the Starbucks less than a block from her building.
Fine got her drink first, something strong, and fortified with an excessive amount of caffeine, and she took a seat at a random table, back to another man, as her security detail ordered something of their own.
“…are we even?” the man behind her asked.
“…no.” she said over her cup of coffee. “You still owe us a lot of favors.”
The man behind her frowned, and sipped his own drink as her personnel began walking over.
“…but, that particular favor we asked for? In return for the ‘Caesar Incident’?"
"Yes?"
"Once you spooks get those monsters you scattered over Pakistan back in their cages, consider it repaid.”
His frown turned into a small smile. “Good. Pleasure doing business with you, Director.”
“Likewise, Thirteen.” She said evenly, getting up to accompany her security personnel back to her office.
Epilogue
The Pakistani military personnel roughly pushed the residents forward through the forest under the light of the full moon.
“Where are you taking us?” The grandmother asked as she continued walking, her grandson by her side.
“Out of our country, you worthless beasts.” The captain said, spitting to the side. His aviator glasses reflecting the moonlight.
“The border is miles from here, we don’t have food, or our belongings.” She said quietly, as the other members of her village nodded. “We’re not far from our village, we can just get up the hill and pack-”
“That is not our problem.” The man interrupted.
The boy next to her convulsed slightly, and his look of concentration faltered. His grandmother looked at him, worried, before turning back to the soldiers with pleading eyes “Please, at least return Sirhan’s amulet, if you don’t give it back we are all in danger!”
“What, this little trinket?” The man said with a smug smile as he waved the crystal pendant in front of them. “Do not worry, we are not in danger. In fact, we have prepared for your little boy’s…outbursts.”
The grandmother stopped, and the rest of the people there stopped too, confused. “…what?”
“Silver bullets, old woman.” The captain said, gesturing to himself and the rest of the soldiers around him. “Your little boy here…" He continued, as Sirhan’s claws and hair pulsed in and out of him. “…is going to infect all of you, and we are going to heroically put you all out of your misery.”
The assembled people of the village began shuffling around in fear, and tried to scoot away, only for the other soldiers to block them off.
“…of course, somehow I feel like silver bullets will look the same if they’re in a werewolf or a woman.” The captain said sardonically, and the soldiers took aim at the unarmed civilians.
With the rest of the village frozen in shock, the grandmother, hand firmly on Sirhan, who was still trying to prevent his transformation, pleaded with the soldiers again.
“Please, let us go, we haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Men, ready!” He said loudly, back to the dark forest.
“Sirhan, hold still, it’s gonna be okay.” His grandmother said quietly as she comforted her boy.
“Aim!” He continued, gun towards the villagers. He didn’t notice two yellow orbs appear in the darkness behind him.
Sirhan looked up, and through his pain, nudged his grandmother into looking towards the dark trees.
Her eyes widened, and she quietly covered Sirhan’s eyes.
“FI-AHHHH!”
The man’s cry was cut off by his pained screams, and the wet sound of tearing flesh sounded through the valley.
The soldiers turned to fire at the dark shape that had nearly bisected their commanding officer, but it was too late, other dark shadows rippled out of the forest, tearing into the soldiers and ripping them apart. Gunshots sounded, but silver bullets only collided with tree trunks and rocks, before they were eventually silenced.
The villagers around them were speechless, and quickly backed into a huddle together, waiting for their turn to experience the carnage.
Sirhan didn’t see any of this, his grandmother’s hand firmly on his eyes.
But suddenly, he felt a warm huff come over his face, and, curiosity getting the better of him, he used his near-transformed hand to move his grandmother’s arm from his face.
He finally realized why his grandmother and the rest of the village were still silent.
A dark wolf’s head, larger than his torso, and with glowing yellow eyes, was inches from his face.
Another hot breath came over his face from the wolf, and ruffled his fur.
The wolf’s mouth opened, and a crystal pendant fell out, covered in blood, but otherwise undamaged.
Sirhan cautiously reached out and took the crystal necklace, putting it around his neck.
At once, the talisman glowed, and it was like a great pain was lifted from his shoulders. His transformation didn’t regress…but it didn’t go any farther either, and he no longer had to focus as hard on keeping it in check.
The dark wolf’s head in front of him huffed, in seeming pleasure at his actions, before suddenly scurrying away with the other wolves, leaving the villagers alone in the dark with the corpses of the soldiers who had just tried to execute them.
Sirhan’s grandmother was the first to recover.
“Well? What are you waiting for? You two, go start digging a hole for these soldier’s bodies, Karima, grab those guns and put them in a bag, we might need them later, everyone else, get back to the village, we need to pack!”
“Pack?” Someone said in confusion.
“We almost got executed, do you want to stay in this country?” The old woman said with a sarcastic lilt to cover up how shaken she was.
“Sirhan!” His name seemed to shock the boy out of his stupor as he stared at the woods where the wolves had disappeared.
“Sirhan, we have to go.” She whispered to him as she pushed him along.
He nodded, and walked with her, only sparing one glance back at the forest, and let out a quiet whisper to it.
“Thank you, Mom.”
“…are you sure this isn’t against regulation?” The 21 year old anomalous MTF agent asked as she waited in front of the door to the humanoid containment chamber.
“Yep! Took a HELL of a lot of paperwork, and I could only justify it as ‘cross SCP testing’. That said, I still only got clearance for like 20 minutes, so we ought to hurry.” The junior researcher said quickly as he rifled through his bag, ignoring the buzzing from his phone every few seconds.
“…do you want to get that?” Iris said, mollified by the explanation, but still confused as to why she was standing in front of SCP-3009-C.
Junior Researcher Benedict Kim, as his name badge said when it shuffled to the top of his bag as he kept rifling through it, rolled his eyes. “Nope.”
Almost on cue, four more insistent buzzes came through his phone.
Iris raised her eyebrow, but decided not to press the issue, turning to the more relevant point on her mind.
“So…this is a cross-test, right?” She asked, mentally running through her gear, and kicking herself for not bringing a firearm. Dealing with other SCP’s was emotionally taxing at best, and even if a gun wouldn’t help against most of them, it would make her feel better.
“I mean, technically, yes.” Researcher Kim said offhandedly as he almost shoved his whole hand into the bag.
“…so is there anything I should know about this SCP?”
“Uhhhh…no? Not really?”
At his words Iris’s eyes narrowed. Going in blind to SCP’s usually meant memetic or telepathic anomalies.
“Alright.” She said, cracking her neck slightly in preparation. “What are my objectives?”
“Aha!” Kim said victoriously, holding up an earpiece. “Here.” He continued, passing it into Iris’s hand, and she obligingly hooked it into her ear.
“Testing?” She said, finger on the earpiece to activate it. Distantly, she heard her voice echo from the observation room, and the junior researcher gave her a thumbs up.
He quickly moved to the door, cracking it open slightly, and looking inside, wincing.
“Shit.” He whispered. “That’s not a good sign. Oh well. Might be more effective for you to come in now.”
Iris’s pulse, hardened to gunshots and helicopter blades, jumped, and she grimaced, but nodded.
As she walked forward, Kim spoke up. “Oh, and your objective is…talk to her?” He said with a bit of a shrug, before opening the door to let her in. “Good luck.”
‘Talk to it’, standard Foundation doublespeak for ‘Interrogate the shit out of them’. She could do that.
Iris was silent and strode in.
The room was…not what she was expecting.
Normally SCP containment rooms were either entirely empty, or if not empty, had the walls coated with the remains of the last people who’d entered the room.
This one was just…normal? Standard humanoid containment cell from the looks of it. Some magazines, psychology textbooks, and uneaten food on the sole table in the room.
If she didn’t know better, it was just an empty cell. But soon her eyes were drawn to the lump on the bed.
Something was wrapped in blankets and curled up on the bed, and Iris took a wild guess that this was the SCP she was supposed to interrogate.
She decided to take a position just out of arm's reach of the curled up ball, and began.
SCP-3009-C, formerly known as Stacey Lee, was not having a great day.
Admittedly, she didn’t have a lot of good days in the past year. Finding out at the tender age of 15 that you had a sentient snapchat account claiming to be you (and who honestly seemed more like “you” than you were) before being locked up by a shadowy organization to protect “normalcy” puts a real damper on your sense of self and mental health.
She’d…gone to some dark places in the past year.
Fortunately, the shadowy organization that has removed all sense of privacy from her life also had a vested interest in keeping her health, mental and physical, in top shape, so she received treatment…as well as some burly men visiting in the middle of the night to remove all sharp objects from her room.
Which, while slightly traumatic, she admitted probably was for the best. And after she’d received an antidepressant regimen, as well as newfound purpose with her study of psychology, she was doing much better.
…but some days were worse than others.
Sometimes, Stacey, or “3009-C” as she called herself in her darker moments, would just wake up, and decide to curl up in her blankets, and ignore the world.
Naturally, this was the day Researcher Kim, one of her only friends in her captivity, decided to throw someone new into her room.
She could hear their boots trudge on the hard floor. They walked with the hard purpose of the burly men who’d taken her knives, and Stacey unconsciously curled harder into a ball.
Her mind raced through every event in the past several weeks, running over anything that could have warranted a security man in her room, but she couldn’t think of anything. She’d been good dammit, she’d been doing really well, why would the Foundation send someone to her room again?!
“SCP-3009-C, I’m Commander Thompson-”
The voice was…unexpected. It was high, and feminine. And young. Normally the security sounded more like they belonged in a gym screaming obscenities at a minority. This one sounded like she belonged in a library.
“-I will be your interrogator.”
SCP 3009-C froze, and her breath caught slightly. She curled farther into a ball, and her thoughts ran into overdrive until they started blurring together into something approaching a fit.
“What are your-” The voice stopped suddenly, and the tinny sound of an earpiece interrupted her.
Through her panic, 3009-C found herself a bit curious, and she peeked an eye out of her blanket.
Agent Thompson paused, listening to the earpiece.
“I’m doing what you asked, interrogating the SCP.” There was another pause as minute squawks came from the electronic. “'Talk to her?' That’s what you said, and that’s an interrogation, right?”
“For fuck’s sake Kim, I’m an MTF agent, what the hell are you expecting from me?”
At the mention of Junior Researcher Kim, the lump of blankets opened slightly more. Whatever it was, it knew of him and…trusted…him? Or was at least curious.
Suddenly, the agent’s entire body froze, and Iris's voice turned something deadly, and guilty.
She turned away slightly from the lump of covers, and whispered, though the tiny room meant that the lump could very much hear every word the agent said.
“Junior Researcher Kim, what the fuck do you mean ‘She’s only sixteen’?” She whispered, her voice full of righteous rage.
When Kim was presumably done explaining the issue, she slowly turned back to the lump on the bed, which had pulled its blanket shut again.
The MTF agent looked somewhere between guilty, and enraged as she walked back over, but her voice, far from being commanding and authoritative, was even, and apologetic.
“Hey.” she started. “Sorry about that. I…didn’t know everything about your…situation.” She continued awkwardly.
“…you mind if I take a seat here?” Iris said quietly, gesturing to the table next to the table. When there was no response, she did so, and pulled off her cap. She stared at the logo on it for a second, thumb running over the embossed “α-9” on the front, as well as the little arrowed symbol of the Foundation, before gently placing the cap on the table next to her.
She sighed slightly, and undid her ponytail slightly, before running a hand through her dirty blonde hair.
Her voice was something…softer…when she continued.
“…I’m guessing you don’t want to talk much right now.” She said with a grimace. “Honestly, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“Do you mind if I take a wild guess about a few things?” Iris continued. The lump under the covers didn’t respond, but it did shift a little, indicating it was awake.
“I’m going to guess that your life was completely normal.” She started. “Or whatever the hell passes for normal these days.”
“Went to school, had friends, hobbies, family, etc.” She continued. “…then something weird happens. Maybe it was a little thing that nobody would have noticed, and you just ignored for a while. Or maybe it was all at once, I dunno.”
Her head hung down a little. “Then something happens. Something big. Something that you can’t just play off as weirdness. Something you can’t ignore, and more importantly, the rest of the world can’t ignore it either.”
“And then these men in suits show up.” Her voice had dropped to a near whisper. “They take you somewhere…else.”
“They start running tests on you. See just how far your weirdness goes. And then-” Iris’s voice caught slightly, much as she tried to hide it. “-and then they tell you that you can’t go home.”
“They tell you, your life isn’t normal anymore. They say ‘we don’t know enough about what you can do, so you have to stay here’.” Iris stopped there. Almost so long that the lump moved slightly to check that she’s still there.
“…and you get angry.” Iris continued once more, sniffing slightly. “So, unbelievably, angry. You might even pretend to be normal for a while, just to convince them to let you go.”
“But then the anger…it stops.” Her voice hardened slightly. “Because the real reason you’re angry is you know they’re right. What you can do is weird. And you don’t know how you can do what you do, or what extent it goes to. You might hurt people, you genuinely don’t know.”
“…and then you get tired.” She said, rubbing her wrist slightly. The blankets shifted slightly, allowing the person under it to look more closely at Iris. “So, incredibly, tired.”
“Because what’s the point?” Iris said with a hint of a snarl. “What’s the point of being…around…if all you have is a cell and nothing else. No friends or anything else.”
“…and then you do something drastic, and dumb.” She said quietly, before rolling up her sleeve, and unbuckling her combat gloves. The woman stuck her arm out, towards the opening in the blankets. While they were faded and long since healed over, there were unmistakable white scars across her wrist and up her arm.
There was a sniff from within the blankets, and a tentative arm extended from under the blankets. It extended just enough for her hand and her forearm to stick out. Once that was fully exposed, it twisted, exposing the underside of her arm, and a similar array of scars, the main difference being their red hue instead of white.
Iris smiled slightly, and twisted her hand to give a handshake.
“Hello. My name is Iris Thompson. I’m also designated as SCP-105. I…was brought here when I was 15, about six years ago.”
The arm sticking out of the blanket, after a hint of hesitation, turned slightly, gently grasped Iris’s hand, and shook it slightly, before pulling her arm back.
Eventually, the blanket was slowly pulled back, revealing a tired asian girl who still didn’t meet Iris’s eyes.
“…hi.” She said quietly. “I’m SCP-3009-C. You can-you can call me ‘Stacey’.”
Iris smiled softly at her. “Pleasure to meet you, Stacey.”
The two were silent for a few moments, before Stacey spoke.
“So…you’re an MTF agent? I didn’t know SCP’s could work for the Foundation.”
Iris grimaced slightly. “It’s not exactly common, but as long as you’re not some eldritch god bent on destroying the earth, it’s possible. Alpha-9 and the Scrubs are both composed entirely of anomalies.”
“Really? Wait, eldritch god?”
Iris took a shot in the dark. “…you have no idea what the hell goes on in this place, do you?”
“…I…am starting to think I don’t.”
Iris let out an audible sigh. Her eyes flickered to the observation window, before she took her cap and put it on Stacey’s head. “Tell you what, kid, how about a story, to give you an idea what working for this place is like.”
Stacey raised her eyebrow slightly under the cap and snickered. “…you know I’m not twelve, right? Also, isn’t everything classified here?”
“Eh, if they hate it they can just amnestitize us.” Iris said with a smirk, before getting up and sitting next to Stacey on the bed. “Alright, story time, whippersnapper. Lemma tell you about the time I and a whole MTF had to fight a horde of zombie teenagers…”
By the time Iris was walking out of the room, Stacey was more mobile, and was eating some of the food leftover on the table.
“Thank you, Iris.” The researcher said as she came out.
“No problem.” the woman responded. “But next time, maybe give a girl a heads up?”
“Sorry.” He said sheepishly, handing over a sheaf of papers. “Here’s the file for your next visit.”
Iris’s eyes narrowed. “Next visit?”
“3009, of course.” he said, ignoring her confused look to walk ahead, causing her to hurry after him.
“…”
“…”
The silence reigned for several seconds, before the woman in the computer screen turned to the side and shouted.
“BENNNNNNY! I think the woman you brought me is broken!”
Iris shook herself out of her reverie.
“Oh good, you’re alive!” came the electronic voice again, and the girl, a slightly younger, but otherwise almost identical version of Stacey Lee, waved hello from the tablet she was communicating from. “Hi!”
Iris’s brain was slowly but surely catching up with her situation, but it still needed a few more seconds to adjust, so she said the first thing that came to mind.
“Benny?” She said, curious.
“You know, Junior Researcher Kim!” She said with a chirp. “My Foundation-mandated best friend!”
“…really?” On the one hand it was just weird enough that the Foundation might try it, but on the other it was just nice enough that it was a little out of character for them. “…are you sure that’s his role?”
“A-hem.” Stacey said with faux seriousness, and mimed being some mindless foundation bureaucrat with the accompanying British accent to boot. “The formal name for Benny’s profession is ‘Junior Researcher responsible for fulfilling SCP-3009’s social needs due to his proficiency using electronic messaging systems’”
“…oh my god, that’s exactly what he is.” Thompson said with surprise. A pang of jealousy went through Iris that derailed her thought processes, because why didn’t she get a Foundation-mandated best friend when she first got there? Do they have any idea how useful that could have been?!?
Iris’s thoughts ground to a halt as she looked at the girl communicating through videochat.
…maybe, after her, they did learn how useful a best friend would be in confinement.
“Soooooooo…now that we’ve talked about the boys in my life, tell me a bit about yourself! Ooh, did Benny bring you to teach me how to be a secret agent?!??!” She began miming ‘karate’ moves on the screen, and Iris snickered slightly.
“I…kinda doubt that, Stacey.” She said with a smile.
“Oh, you can call me 3009, everyone else does here.” The girl said with a smile and dismissive wave that was a bit too forced to be genuine.
Iris frowned a bit. “I’ll…stick with Stacey, if that’s all right. I don’t like it when people call me ‘SCP-105’ so I feel bad calling other people numbers.”
The girl paused, mid-karate chop, and she blinked in surprise before returning to a normal stance and looking more closely at Iris.
“Wait, you’re…you’re an SCP too?”
Iris smiled sadly. “Yep. Been here since I was 16.”
“Woooowww…” The girl in the video said. “I’m…well you probably read my file, but, uh, I’m a living snapchat account!”
She looked a little flustered, and her eyes roamed up and down Iris’s body, absorbing the tactical gear that she had yet to change out of.
“What…what do you do?”
Iris bit her lip slightly, and looked to the camera staring at them, before turning back to the tablet that held the girl.
“…you know, I might be able to show you.”
Iris moved her hand towards the screen.
“Huh? What are you doing? Is this some kind of mind control thin-” 3009’s voice cut out as Iris’s fingertip touched the screen, and instead of tapping the touchpad, went through the screen, towards Stacey.
“Ooof, that’s a weird sensation.” Iris said with a grimace. “Like sticking my hand in an ice bucket. But yeah, I can touch things through pictures. I can also see them in realtime, but that’s not really as big of a deal now that videocalls are a thing-”
Iris flinched, and she looked at the screen to see Stacey holding her hand with her own, looking at it with wonder.
“I-I can touch you.” Stacey said with a dry voice.
Iris’s heart broke a little at the joy in the girl’s voice, and she just kept her hand there, holding Stacey’s.
The girl seemed to break out of her shock and her face went beet red when she realized she’d been almost fondling Iris’s hand, and she pulled away like she’d been electrified.
“OmgIamsosorryIjus-”
“Stacey.” Iris said with a firm, commanding voice, before she softened it. “You can keep touching my hand, if you want.”
The girl looked on the verge of tears when she nodded, dropping into her seat and grabbing the Iris's ghostly hand with both of hers, pulling it to her forehead where she rested her head against it as her body wracked with suppressed sobs.
After a few seconds, Iris put her other hand into the screen, and gently moved the girl’s hair out of her face slightly, before cupping her cheek and wiping away a stray tear with her thumb.
Stacey almost nuzzled the second hand, leading to another set of tears to flow from her eyes, but Iris didn’t move her hands.
For a while, the two just sat there, Iris caressing her, and Stacey sitting there, crying.
“I-I’m sorry.” the girl said with a sniffle. “I just…I can touch things. In here, right?”
Iris nodded, and gave her a reassuring squeeze on Stacey’s shoulder when she realized the girl couldn’t see her.
“But like…they can’t touch me. Like, really touch me.” she paused, and bit her lip. “And something about…this…means that usually stuff like that doesn’t make me sad and stuff. Not like…you know.”
“I’ve met the other Stacey, yes.” Iris confirmed.
“So I was fine.” She continued. “I really really thought I was fine. But then I could feel you. Really feel you. And…everything just hit, all at once.”
She sniffled. “I’m so sorry, I’m not usually like this.”
“Stacey, relax.” Iris said with a huff. “Trust me, you have no idea how much I understand what you’re going through.”
The two sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, Iris’s hands just resting on the girl’s shoulders, when Stacey spoke up.
“Iris, can…can you do my hair?” She asked quietly. “Like, it shows up however I want in here, so technically you don’t have to, but like it’s been so long since I’ve actually had someone else do it and I just-”
“I’d be honored.” Iris interrupted, and pulled her hands back to run them through Stacey’s hair.
She pretended not to notice the girl’s tears returning.
Junior Researcher Benedict Kim was pondering an ethical question.
By all rights, SCP-105 should never be allowed into SCP-3009’s or SCP-3009-C’s containment cells ever again.
Her little “story” in 3009-C’s chamber was definitely classified, and Kim could tell that because he didn’t know about the story before she told it, despite Alpha-9 gossip being the most popular scuttlebutt in the entire Foundation.
Furthermore, interacting with SCP-3009 violated even more Foundation guidelines on cross-SCP testing. If Iris could reach into SCP-3009’s snapchat account, it brought up the possibility of her bringing things out of it, and that raised a bunch of ethical, logistical, and scientific questions.
…which made it very odd that Junior Researcher Benedict Kim was debating adding those little…indiscretions…to his report.
He knew why, of course. If he added them, the two month wait he’d had just to schedule Iris the first time would turn into an outright rejection of subsequent visits.
But if he left them out, then there was a chance he could book Iris with the girls again…though if he was found out he could potentially lose his job in the process.
His phone buzzed, and he took that as an opportunity to procrastinate his decision.
It was a Snapchat text, from 3009 herself. Against his better judgement, he opened it.
Hey. Uh. Benny. May I ask…is there any chance you could book Iris to come by again? It was…nice…meeting her.
Benedict Kim pinched the bridge of his nose slightly. He knew he shouldn’t have answered that.
With a groan he wrote up the “sanitized” versions of what happened earlier that day.
Besides, if they ever found out he lied, they could just amnestitize him.






Per 



