Kothardarastrix's Sandbox

• 27-club-notes (30 May 2024 01:28) (+0)
• VNP-6314 (10 Apr 2024 02:05) (+0)
• plague-of-zombies (19 Mar 2024 02:10) (+0)
• lotr-notes (15 Jan 2024 16:13) (+0)
• drooling-path-sandbox (27 Nov 2023 04:40) (+0)
• koth-kupid (14 Aug 2023 01:18) (+0)
• PACt-MAN (02 Jun 2022 17:51) (+0)
• Kothbox 2 (10 Mar 2021 18:12) (+0)
• Kothardarastrix's Sandbox (17 Sep 2018 23:15) (+0)

To-Do List

Things that are mostly finished:

• The Curse of Mount Abraxas
• The thing with MacLean and Moloch
• CupidCon Entry
• Sea Sloth
• Teenage Lament
• Excelsior
• LUCA

Things that aren't done at all but would be quick to write:

• The Deal of Death (a specific arrangement of 52 cards that would destroy reality)

Things that are, like, halfway done:

• Stone Cold Pyre
• PACt-MAN

Things that are still quite a lot of work from being done:

• VNP-6314
• I'm Broken
• The 27 Club

vague plans

1 - ethagonsurgency
2 - cupidcon
3 - the curse of mount abraxas

Keep the sea sloth and the death deal in my back pocket in case of a relevant contest.

I have been feeling 27 Club the most lately but have yet to write anything I'd consider a draft. If 8kon somehow holds off until next year, it'd be a good pick.

I can feel Elroy taking root in my brain. 27 Club (and its prequel tale, if things work out the way they seem like they're going to) would be the first works to make a real character out of him, and from there I could expand forwards into the Drooling Path sequels, Tesla Society, and Quagga Heist (which would itself need to come after VNP-6314).

So Elroy's appearances in chronological order would be

• Heartless World (flashbacks)
• SCP-039
• Heartless World (present)
• The 27 Club
• Mourning in America (including SCP-2068)
• The Defection of Area-14 (if it doesn't get destroyed in Mourning)
• Tesla Society
• VNP-6314/SCP-6314 Threshold edition
• Quagga Heist

• Canon Crossover Central (0/1) - VNP-6314 will cross No Return, Wonderful World (?), Dread and Circuses, the Integration Program, and maybe OG43?
• The SEXTANK Initiative - SE_T_NK
• Thank You For Your Cooperation (4/7) - I have collaborated with tawnyowljones, GlassAutomaton, DrDapper, and Sound Chaser; got a collab with Ethagon in the works
• Double Double Agent (1/4) - UIU; Stone Cold Pyre would be either Wandsmen or Wikipedia
• Making Strides (33/50)
• Student Participation Award (0/2)
• Anartist Portfolio (1/5) - I made the crude schematics for 7314 myself; I'm planning to carve a Doug-O-Lantern this Halloween
• Knowledge is Power (0/1)
• Engaged (0/1) - The Web should be my 50th page
• The Centurion (33/100)

Test Log Additions

SCP-826

• Test it with a blank journal.
• Use a current nonfiction book and compare it to the real place. If they match, this may be of use with historical fiction or ancient works of literature.
• Use the same fiction book with two different people, to see if fiction is created based on the description or from the imagination of the subject.
• Enter 2030 to get a good look at Laughy McLaughersrion.
• Have someone conceive a child with a fictional character, then bring the child out.

SCP-682

• Try to turn its adaptive abilities against itself by provoking some kind of allergic response or giving it an autoimmune disorder.
• Use 484 to get into its memories.
• Torture it to make it more compliant or even get it to attempt suicide.
• Try to make it less hostile by teaching it how to cook or something, like 5031.
• See if SCP-657 can predict its death.
• Shoot security footage of it with the exposition gun.
• Use the suffocating Sesame Street anomaly on security footage of it.
• Finally convince 073 to do it. 682 has a brief conversation with Cain, wherein the lizard assures him that he, too, will one day outgrow his remorse and his pain will become others'. Cain asks if he can leave yet, to which 682 says "I'm not going to attack him, if that's what you're waiting for." Then it lays down and goes to sleep. 073 is allowed to leave.
• 058. Drop 682 in there instead of a cow. 058 rapidly dismembers and consumes it. Hours later, 058 ruptures from within as the regenerated 682 claws its way out. The injured 058 tries to fight 682 again, but 682 talks to it and it goes to cower in the corner instead. Both anomalies are incapacitated with a ridiculous amount of antipersonnel explosives, after which time 682 is retrieved.
• Use 2733 to decapitate it. Body grows new head, head grows new body.
• Make it watch a 5266 video by telling it 079 is on the computer.
• 5562. Tissue test is denied by the O5 council because they know something they don't want anyone else to know.
• several different instances of 092

SCP-3780

• SCP-140 is activated in the future, bringing the Daevite Empire to that time period.
• Someone uses SCP-2733 to steal JFK's head from the past.

SCP-3922

• Samurai Jack - how do the Three Moons fight Aku, vulnerable only to divine weapons?
• Something Series - can they defeat Speedrunner Mario?
• Little Runmo - they help Runmo get across the pit, so he never delves into the horrors that lie beneath. The narrative either continues to follow him, with background evidence showing 3922's defeat of the Dring King and Meatball Man, or it follows 3922 as they do so.
• The Zapruder Film, altered as necessary to be considered fictional.
• FOOTAGE OF THE MOON LANDING
• Knife, Scream, Cut to Black - the situation comically escalates, with the killers continually increasing in number and producing duplicates of whatever tricks 3922 comes up with. Alternatively, 3922 manages to defeat the killer with no issue before the interactive portion begins.

SCP-978

• 939-101 - the teenage form of little Keter, hugging her "dad"

Project Isorropia

• SCP-2600 and the shapeshifter that's always trying to be better than you, constantly attempting to out-spook each other.
• SCP-5140 vs SCP-1529
• 082 and 4820 being best buds
• Some interaction between Mr. Lie, SCP-645, the Liar's Cradle, and the truth-detecting quarter.

SCP-3636

• Last Living Dinosaur - several dinosaurian anomalies headbang, play air guitar, and otherwise rock out
• Metal Will Never Die - the ghost of Dio appears and rocks out with Dr. Carlson, then assures him that metal will never die as he fades away.
• a song from a band that Dr. Carlson was in as a teenager, before they broke up

CupidCon Entry

outtakes

---

"Ah!" Mr. Fish screamed.

"Ah!" Katie seconded.

"Fuck!" Guy shouted, blinking at the fluorescent lights of SCP-527's containment chamber. The blue forest and sunset vista had become more of the same old drab gray walls, and the cliff had become a bed that - until very recently - Mr. Fish had been sleeping in.

It didn't take Katie long to get her bearings, and she did not take it well.

"No! No, dammit!" she grabbed Guy's arm in a two-handed grip that was almost painful. "Take us back!" she wailed. "Please!"

All he could do was helplessly shake his head.

"No! No!" she jumped up and started running around the room, looking for a way out that she knew very well didn't exist. Her elbow jostled a table, and Mr. Fish cried out in concern as his potted cactus wobbled precariously. Guy paid him no mind, instead springing to comfort his panicking friend.

"Katie! Katie." Carefully, he put one arm around her, to keep her from running around and maybe hurting herself. As soon as she stopped moving, she collapsed. He wrapped the other arm around her as well. Katie hugged him limply back and sobbed into his shoulder.

"It's okay, it's alright. We're safe."

"I wasn't ready," she sniffled. "I wasn't ready."

"I know, I know. I wasn't either." Perhaps unsurprisingly, Guy found his own eyes welling up too. "I'm sorry."

PACt-MAN

GOOD IDEA IN THIS THREAD. USE THAT. AMBITIOUS, MAYBE GET HELP FROM ARCADIA EXPERT.

UPDATE 3/28/2022
After some discussions in the Discord, some thoughts and ideas:

• the demon-escapes idea is still kinda cliche
• one guy thinks the demon's appearance is just okay
• What if, rather than having the demon escape as a result of Mitchell's greed, it's the Foundation's hubris? They use it to stop breaches and defeat GoIs and do stuff like that, but end up using it too much?
• I just need to find a way to make the ending better!

http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/pact-man

Update 6/3/2022

• before the test log, explain where it came from
• After the breach, have the Arcadia guy show up and be detained. He explains the situation to the Foundation, and they reluctantly agree to help him recapture the demon.
• the final confrontation with the demon
• a revised document describing the anomaly's new form, trapped in the 2600

[[/collapsible]]

A Starry Night, A Campfire Light

CUT THE 3999 PART, USE SOMETHING ELSE

Somewhere in Texas, a thousand head of cattle have stopped for the night. They doze or graze, some lowing softly in the dark. Long, curved horns glint in the light of a campfire. Thirteen cowboys sit in a circle around it, taking shelter from the cold desert night. They are just finishing their dinner, a plate of hot beans, bacon, and biscuits with some dried, sugared apples for dessert. With small variations, this was what they'd eaten every night for the month they'd been on the trail. But this hearty dinner was not the only evening tradition among the cowboys of P&W Ranch.

It was always Rick, the trail boss, who started.

"Well," he said, setting his plate aside, "it's a mighty dark night tonight, ain't it boys?"

Some agreed heartily, grinning in anticipation. Others gave only solemn nods.

"Dark enough to make you wonder what might be out there, in the night." His intense gaze surveyed the other cowpokes, alighting on each for a single tense moment. "Watchin'." He leaned forward, the firelight casting the lines on his face into deep, eerie shadow. "Waitin'."

One of the tenderfoots couldn't help himself; he looked nervously away from the campfire. He saw only the occasional glint of a cow's horns in the firelight, but Rick's dark eyes still caught the movement. He smiled slightly.

"I've seen 'em, you know. The creatures of the night. The things that hide themselves in darkness. Things no man can explain. Evil things."

For a moment, the only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the moan of the lonely wind.

"Now, let me tell you what I seen."

---

Sometimes if you listen close at night it sounds like the wind is calling your name. But you better never answer, because that ain't the wind. That's the red coyotes, the color of blood and the size of horses. They ain't got no eyes but they's scared of the light, so they only come out at night. They keep away from campfires, but they like to huddle just past the edge of the light and call out to ya in the voice of your sweetheart, or your folks, or whoever else they think might talk a lonesome cowboy into steppin' outta the light. But there ain't no sweetheart out there in the dark - just claws and fangs and empty bellies.

---

A tall, thin, masked, pale stranger on a quest for vengeance. He's some kind of ghost or revenant, walking relentlessly through the desert in search of the woman who betrayed him, the only person who ever saw his face.

---

Doug Millard, on SCP-058:

Well, uh, there was one thing. Couple of years ago, I forget just where, exactly, I was looking for work and heard some place called the DP Ranch had an opening. Ranch was about half a day's ride from where I was, though, so I waited for the morning to ride out. That might be the only reason I'm still alive.

I was still pretty far from the ranch when I saw the smoke. There was so much I knew something big had to be on fire, maybe a barn or even the ranch house itself. I dug my spurs in, got there as fast I could to see if anybody needed help. But it was too late for that.

The first thing I saw was a cow, but I almost didn't recognize it. It…it looked like it had exploded, somehow. Stretched out on its back, ribs cracked open, guts all over the place…but the weirdest thing was, I didn't see any blood.

The rest of them weren't like that. I mean, they were all dead, but differently. And there was blood everywhere. Legs missing, heads cut off, I swear some of them must have been ripped in half. At first, I thought it might've been Indians, but I don't know what kind of Indians could rip a bull in half. Maybe I should have stuck around and tried to find some tracks or something, but I was more worried about the fire. I just hoped the people hadn't been done like the cows.

Before I even saw the house, though, I knew it was no good. There were three dead cowboys at the top of the hill, parts all mixed up with their horses, ripped up same way as the cows. There was a…a…head, and I can't forget that, more than anything, it…he looked surprised. Like whatever it was had hit him so fast he didn't even have to time to be scared. To scream.

So, anyway, I had made it to the top of the hill. It was the ranch house that was on fire, but it was mostly just coals and ash by that point. No way was there anybody left alive in there. I figured I had best ride back East, warn everybody in town about what had happened, whatever it was. That's when I saw another plume of smoke, to the West. And it was a big one.

I pushed my horse as fast as he'd go. I was scared shitless, of course, but I had to get to that town before whatever it was that had done that could do it to the people there, too. I don't think I thought I could stop it. Maybe I was hoping I could save somebody. Or maybe I just wanted to see the thing that had done it. Either way, I was wrong.

I don't know how that thing moved, but it must have been fast as Hell, to have destroyed that whole town before the ranch even finished burning. Most of the buildings were on fire too, but some of them looked more like…I don't know, like they'd been hit, with a big cannonball or something. And there were bodies everywhere, of course, I don't know how many, a lot of them burned or crushed or…or…or in pieces…

Doug stopped for a minute, eyes and fists screwed tightly shut. He looked pale, even in the red-orange glow of the dwindling fire, and he seemed to be shaking. The others waited patiently; they knew too well what he was remembering. Tim Crews placed a comforting hand on Doug's shoulder and left it there as, quietly, he continued.

It was like Antietam all over again.

I thought if there was one building still standing, it would have to be the church, if it'd been made of stone. I couldn't see the steeple through all the smoke, but I figured it must be towards the center of town. Once I got there, though, I knew that I wouldn't have been able to see it even without the smoke. The church was stone, yeah, but that even that hadn't stopped the thing, whatever it was. Now the church was just a pile of rocks.

If I'd been smart, I would've turned back around right then and never come back. Maybe I would have, if I hadn't heard it. The heartbeat.

Doug tapped his boot on the sand to emphasize it - a slow, deep da-dum, da-dum, da-dum.

It sounded like it was coming from the church, what was left of it. I don't know how I could hear it over the fires, or through all those rocks. No human heart is that loud. But I knew that's what it was, a heartbeat. So I got down off my horse and walked up there to listen. I don't know why.

As I got closer, I started to hear something else. Sounded like a voice. I thought maybe there was still somebody alive in there, buried under the rubble. Maybe it was his heart I was hearing, somehow. Stupid, I know, but I didn't know what else to think.

I couldn't hear it at first, not clearly. I even put my ear up against the rocks, but they muffled it too much to understand. The weird thing was, it didn't sound like he was screaming or calling for help. Just talking. Or maybe praying.

I started trying to move the rocks. I had to dig that guy out of there, before he died. Maybe at least he could tell me what had happened. I don't know how long I did that, heaving boulders out of the way, all covered in dirt and soot and sweat, coughing and my eyes running from all the smoke. I had to save someone, just one person…

His voice caught again, and Tim Crews's grip tightened reassuringly.

But that wasn't a person, under those rocks. I don't think so, I can't, not after what I heard it say. With every rock I moved, the voice got louder and clearer. I could almost understand it. I put my ear against the pile once and thought I made out a couple words, something about a "drooling path," but I probably misheard. And all the while, that same heartbeat, getting louder. Faster.

Then I came to the biggest stone. I almost couldn't lift it, but I couldn't give up then, not when I was that close. This one and maybe just one more after that, and I'd reach whoever was buried in there. I rolled that rock out of the way and I could finally hear that voice as clear as day. It sounded like an old man, from England or someplace. But what he said, it…it didn't make any sense. Or maybe it did, a little, but it wasn't no prayer I'd ever heard.

Doug paused. The silence stretched on for what felt like forever, before it finally snapped.

"What did he say?" Kenneth blurted.

Eyes closed, Doug inhaled shakily through his nose. Then he spoke, in a voice that seemed too eerie to be his own.

"The sensual violence of lust is all the assurance you will ever need to know the worth of life."

More than one cowboy felt a shiver run up his spine.

"So…what did you do?" Kenneth whispered.

Doug shook his head. "Got on my horse. Rode until I couldn't anymore."

"But…but what was it?"

"I don't know." Then he looked up, his teary eyes glistening in the firelight. "And I hope I never do."

---

C. Hooper, on SCP-1981:

Well, I ain't never seen any ghosts or nothin'. Still ain't sure I believe in 'em, neither, no offense to you boys. But I have seen some weird things. Nothin' like what y'all are talkin' about, but some stuff that just didn't make sense. Like, uh, well. Wasn't on the trail or nothin'. Actually saw it in a barbershop.

"Barbershop?" Tim Crews guffawed.

Tha's right. Forget where exactly, some town where I spent the off-season once. Went to get my 'stache trimmed, you know, and I had just sat down in the chair when I saw the picture.

Now, y'all know what happened to ol' Abe Lincoln, right? Headed out here someplace and vanished off the face o' the Earth? Well, this picture disagreed. It was a photo of Lincoln himself, with a big damn bullet hole right in the middle o' his forehead.

He tapped his own head for emphasis.

Now, I was never a big fan o' ol' Abe anyway, but I still don't think it's right defacing a picture of an American President like that. And the worst part was, somebody had written this stupid caption on it, "ABRAHAM LINCON SHOT WHILE TALKING". Didn't even spell it right. So I asked the barber what he thought he was doin' with somethin' like that up there. So he told me.

"That right there is the only picture taken of the President after he was assassinated during the Gettysburg Address."

So I told the guy that whoever'd sold him that had made a fool out of him, cuz Abe Lincoln wasn't dead. That fella just smiled and asked me how I knew that. Had I seen the President? Did I know where he was? Was I really gonna trust some Yank newspaper over my own eyes? How'd I know that wasn't just Yankee propaganda?

I decided not to dignify that with a response, mostly 'cuz I couldn't talk while he was shavin' me, of course. Didn't bring it up again, so I paid for my cut and left.

Now, about a month later I needed another cut, and I wasn't exactly lookin' forward to dealin' with that weirdo again, but there was just the one barber shop so I didn't have much of a choice. I was hopin' that if I didn't say anything about it that he wouldn't bring it up either. And that mighta worked if I hadn't gone in there and seen the damn picture was different! Abe still looked the same, but this time the hole was right here.

He pointed to his right eye.

I told this fella I knew he was messin' with me, but he kept actin' like he didn't know what I was talkin' about. Naturally, I decided to ignore that tomfoolery and stop givin' this fella a laugh. And so it kept goin', for the whole season. Every time I went in there the President was shot someplace else, still with that stupid caption. That's what pissed me off the most, that this wacko had a hundred of these damn pictures but couldn't spell none of 'em right. And he knew it was buggin' me, too. Every time I went in there he sat me down right in front of that damn thing and faced me toward it, flashin' the kind o' grin that ya wanna punch out, y'know?

Well, it was the last time I was gonna go in there before I moved on for the season, and I decided that since I was never gonna see that damn town or that damn barber ever again I was gonna get rid of that damn picture once and for all. I sat there glarin' at the damn thing the whole time he was doin' my haircut. Soon as he finished, I got up and went over there, ready to rip it right off the wall, and shove it up that freakshow barber's ass if he had somethin' to say about it.

And boy did he. "No!" he said. Yelled so loud it startled me for a second. Looked back at him and he looked more scared than anything, face gone all pale and ever'thing. Told me I didn't know what I was about ta do, that I'd regret it. But I was too mad by that point to listen to any o' his bullshit anyway, so I turned back around and was about to grab hold of it when I realized the picture'd changed.

Now, instead o' Abraham Lincoln, it was a picture o' one o' those crazy Ku Klux Klan bastards, and he was lookin' right at me! Not at the camera, you understand, at me. I dunno how ta explain it. But them eyes was lookin' right into mine. That wasn't even the worst part, though, cuz that label had finally changed. It didn't say that about Abe Lincoln no more.

It said "sic semper tyrannus."

A few moments passed, where the only sound was the crackling of the campire.

"Well? What'd you do?"

What any God-fearin' man does when he sees a ghost. I turned my tail and run. Ain't got a haircut since.

---

"Before I start, let me ask y'all a question. Y'ever hear tell of a joint called the Sailboat Saloon?"

The assembled cowboys mumbled that they had not or simply shook their heads.

Tim nodded. "Didn't think so. Well, you're about to."

"It was…ah, maybe two years ago? I was in some town for the night - I done forgot which - and lookin' for a place to get me a drink and a bed. First place I saw was the Sailboat Saloon. It woulda been hard to miss; there was a big sail thing on the roof, like they'd pulled it straight from a boat." With his hands, Tim crudely reconstructed the lopsided triangular shape of the sail.

"Partly because of that, I was real surprised to be the only one in there. Well, except the bartender, but I'll get to him in a second. The inside of the place seemed normal enough. Everything was about as clean as you could expect, weren't no particularly strange decorations or nothin'. The piano was playin' itself, and that spooked me a little at first, but then I looked a little closer at it and saw it was rigged up like some kind of giant music box or somethin'. Kinda cool, actually. Never could place what song it was playin', though.

"Anyway, the barkeep. I don't really remember what he looked like - it wasn't too bright in there, and I definitely had too much to drink - but I do remember his voice. He was British, I know that. Had kind of a lisp. Sounded like an old man, you know?"

Doug's eyes grew wide, but no one else seemed to notice.

[blah blah blah]

"I woke up the next morning slumped in an alley on the other side of town. I didn't think too much of it then, since nobody'd robbed me while I was out. I didn't try to go back that night, not wantin' to go through that again. But after a couple days in town, I noticed that I hadn't seen that sail on the roof, even though it shoulda been tall enough to see from all around. So I started lookin' for it, retraced my steps back to where it was…or where it shoulda been. I went back over it probably a dozen times, but no matter how many times I went back to that spot I kept findin' some place called the Dewdrop Inn. It looked completely different; no sail, all the furniture was somewhere different, and it didn't even have a piano. I tried askin' people if they'd been to the Sailboat, or just heard of the place, but nobody had. I half wondered if I'd somehow wound up in a different town overnight, but I still recognized everything else from that first night! So then I started to think that maybe I'd imagined the whole thing, maybe it was a dream and I'd been so tired and drunk I couldn't tell the difference. I asked the folks at the Dewdrop, though, and they said I didn't go in there that night. But I musta got the booze from somewhere, right? It just didn't make no sense. I tried askin' about the barkeep, too, but I couldn't remember what his face looked like, and nobody'd seen any old Brits. Eventually I got so spooked by the whole thing that I just left, spent the off-season somewheres else.

"That's when the dreams started. It don't happen every night, or even every week…or maybe I just don't always remember it. But every so often, when I dream, I'm back at the Sailboat Saloon. Sittin' at the bar, drinkin' somethin', talkin' to that British barkeep, piano playin' that same weird song. It's different every time, though. The saloon is the same, I mean, but the conversation is different. The barkeep, he knows things about me. Talks about 'em. Stuff I wouldn't tell nobody. Stuff I certainly didn't tell him. O' course, I know it ain't really him. I'm dreamin', o' course he knows the same stuff I do, he's just my imagination. Right?

"Well, that's what I'd like to think. But the thing is…"

Pausing, Tim took off his Stetson and scratched his head. He looked worried, like he didn't want to say whatever he was about to say. But he did it anyway.

"Those dreams are comin' more often now. Still not every night, but gettin' there. And I can remember 'em better, too. Still can't remember what that guy's face looked like though. And I'm startin'…well, I'm startin' to think that might be because…he don't have one."

---

Egbert "Eggs" Eccleston on SCP-3999:

There's a cave near a ranch where I once worked that they say is the gate to Hell. They say the first fella who went in there couldn't get out, that he screamed for a year. I ain't a doctor, but there's no man on God's Earth who can scream for a year, even if he don't starve or die of thirst. But that's what they say. And it wasn't just screaming, neither. He said things, crazy things, things people were scared to write down. But I didn't believe it, not till that Talloran fella went in.

Talloran worked in town, a clerk at the bank, I think. I knew him cuz he was good friends - real good friends, you know - with one of the other cowhands, some fella named Darren Drake. Never talked to Talloran much, but Drake was alright. It's a damn shame what happened to him. When I go, I wanna go shootin', fightin' rustlers or Injuns, not on a bull's horns like that. But what can you do?

Anyhow, I guess Drake was about the only friend Talloran had in that town. People didn't like his type, you know. They left him be cuz they was scared o' Drake - and rightly so, he shot like a sunuvabitch - but with him in the ground they wasn't about to let the likes of Talloran handle their money. He was run outta the bank, run outta his house, run outta town eventually. Somethin' tells me his folks weren't too keen on him neither, cuz instead of catchin' the next train back to Pennsylvania he just walked off into the desert. I don't know if he meant to end up at that cave, but he'd sure heard enough o' the stories to know where he was when he got there. I don't know why he went in there. Maybe he was hopin' to die, even though there's quicker and better ways to do it.

But he didn't die. We heard him screamin' the next mornin' out on the ranch, rode out to see what the ruckus was. Shouldn't o' been able to hear it that far away, but somethin' about the shape o' the cave made it echo louder 'n' normal or somethin'. I never heard anybody scream like that, not even durin' the war. I still remember how it sounded, and to this day it gives me goosebumps. Look!

We talked about it for a while, tryin' ta decide what ta do. None of us were real close Talloran, like I said, but Drake was a good man. For his sake, a couple o' guys went in there to try and get him, or at least shut up that screamin' - it was spookin' the animals, it was so bad. But they never got to him, I don't think. Still not sure exactly what they saw - came out blind and crazy, talkin' nonsense and cryin'. Ate their guns, both of 'em.

That was the last any of us had to do with it. We moved the cows to the other side of the ranch, where you could only hear the screamin' when the wind blowed just right. You could hear it in town sometimes too, but people pretended like they couldn't. Didn't want to think about what they'd done, I reckon. Maybe that's why Talloran did it, to let those bastards know what they'd put him through.

Remember how they said the first fella who went in there screamed for a year? Well, they musta been right, cuz that's about how long that Talloran fella was in there. We never did quite get used to it, but we learned to ignore it. Pretended it was just the wind, or a trapped coyote. But everybody noticed right away when it stopped.

We talked about it some. Argued if we should go out there, see what had happened. But we didn't, cuz we were scared, just like anybody else with half a brain woulda been. Couldn't be anythin' worth seein' left after that. So we kept on workin'. We couldn't even be glad it was over, for fearin' it would start up again.

It was close to sundown when I saw him. Wasn't close enough to tell, of course, but I knew it was Talloran, cuz he'd come from over towards the cave and he looked about nine-tenths dead. Some of the boys wanted to shoot him, said he'd have to be some kind of devil to come outta that cave alive, but before we could come to a decision on the matter he just dropped, fell on his face in the dirt. I drew the short straw and had to go check him out.

Well, I rode up to him to get a look. Poked him with my boot a couple times first, o' course, but he didn't budge. Then I rolled him over, and it all made sense. Kid was dead, eyes wide open. Makes me feel like shit to say it, but a part of me was glad. Afraid of what he might say he saw down there in that cave.

They wouldn't let us take him into town, so me and some of the boys dug him a grave out on the ranch. Put up a cross for 'im and everything. Not sure I believe that God hates them folk, but even if he does we figured he might make an exception for Talloran after whatever happened to 'im down there. If not, well, Hell couldn't o' been much worse, I don't think.

The weirdest thing about it was, we never could figure out what actually did him in. Wasn't a mark on him. Well, except for one. It was healed, though, like an old scar.

With a single finger, the cowboy traced Talloran's scar on his face: a long, bloody smile, from one ear to the other.

Dr. Conrad Scott's Personnel File

The sloth bits need to be changed to 4068. They can be reused as a separate tale later on.

As Dr. Simon Glass left ABCA-14, he passed by Dr. Scott's vacant office. Though Dr. Johnston and his assistant (Jake? Jerry?) had already absconded with the recordings and most other 058-relevant documentation, the insane clutter of his desk and the cork board remained intact. Glass had already seen the office once, before he evaluated Scott, but that didn't make the second sight of it any less disconcerting. No one at the Foundation was totally sane, of course, but all personnel had to meet a minimum level of lucidity and self-control to ensure they could follow protocol. Though Scott was hardly the type to splash pee on Fernand and ride SCP-058 through the facility (the new, tighter protocols had been designed to weed out any latent Kondrakis), but he did display an alarming tendency to violate containment protocols out of curiosity. Granted, talking to a decayed Betamax or listening to nihilistic beat poetry for longer than 30 minutes was unlikely to get anyone killed or even cause a serious containment breach, but that didn't mean there was no danger. Glass might have been willing to let it slide if Scott was still working with a Safe-class object, but 058's body count rivaled 682's, and it wasn't even the most dangerous object at Area-14. There was no room for error at an Armed Area. Dr. Glass had skimmed Scott's file on his way to Area-14, but he resolved to read it again, more closely this time, during the flight back to Site-17.

[interview with Conrad, where he describes his and his wife's exposure to SCP-2774]
Conrad Scott’s first experience with the anomalous had not been a positive one. Most Foundation personnel were recruited out of college, the military, or their other professions when algorithmic analysis identified them as potential assets, though there were plenty of exceptions. Agent Green had once been a GOC operative, as had (allegedly) Alto Clef himself. Agent Navarro had first come to the Foundation’s attention as a Person of Interest. And in the days of Omega-7, there had even been a few contained objects promoted to Foundation personnel. But Dr. Scott had not come to the Foundation from a Group of Interest, or as a POI or anomalous object. He was one of the rare personnel who, before ever hearing of the Foundation, had found himself on the business end of an anomaly. The first document in his file was not a personnel evaluation, but an incident report.

Incident 2774-██:
On ██-██-20██, a Dr. Conrad Scott brought his wife, Allison, to the [DATA EXPUNGED] hospital in ████████, VA, suspecting that she had been drugged or suffered a head injury. A Foundation web crawler flagged Mrs. Scott’s symptoms as possible SCP-2774 infection, and a containment team was dispatched to assess the situation. Below is an interview conducted between Dr. Conrad Scott and Agent J███████, disguised as “Dr. J█████”, a psychiatrist allegedly working at the [DATA EXPUNGED] hospital.

<begin log>
Agent J███████: Hello, Dr. Scott.
Conrad Scott: How is she?
Agent J███████: We’re still running some tests.
Conrad Scott: Oh.
Agent J███████: If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions.
Conrad Scott: Sure.
Agent J███████: Have you seen a man in a sloth costume recently?
Conrad Scott: What?
Agent J███████: Have you seen a man in a sloth costume recently?
Conrad Scott: I- how did you know?
Agent J███████: Your wife said something about a sloth soon after you arrived, correct?
Conrad Scott: Oh. Right. Um, yes, we did. Well, sort of. We saw him on TV.
Agent J███████: On live television?
Conrad Scott: No, no. We, uh, we were…this is gonna sound crazy.
Agent J███████: You’d be surprised.
Conrad Scott: Um, okay. Two days ago, we were, um, we were watching Twin Peaks, on DVD. I got it for her for our anniversary last month. We’ve seen it before, of course – it’s her favorite show, actually, that’s why I got it for her – but this time we noticed this guy in a…sloth costume sitting in the background in one scene.
Agent J███████: And that struck you as unusual?
Conrad Scott: Absolutely. It’s a weird show, sure, but it’s not that weird. And I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed a guy in a sloth suit the first time I watched it.
Agent J███████: Did your wife see the sloth as well?
Conrad Scott: Yeah, that’s how I know I’m not crazy. Somebody must have tampered with the DVD or something.
Agent J███████: Or something.
Conrad Scott: Why? Do you think this sloth thing has something to do with what’s going with Allison?
Agent J███████: I doubt it. Your wife’s mind is in disarray; she probably just remembered this incident during her episode.
Conrad Scott: Oh. And do you know what’s wrong with her?
Agent J███████: We’re still running some tests.
Conrad Scott: Right.
Agent J███████: Dr. Scott, would you be willing to remain here for a few days? You may have been exposed to the same thing as her, whatever that is, and we’d like to keep you under observation until we’re sure you’re alright.
Conrad Scott: Of course! I already told the college I won’t be in tomorrow.
Agent J███████: Alright. Thank you, Doctor Scott.
<end log>

Analysis of Mrs. Scott confirmed SCP-2774 infection. The DVD described by Dr. Scott was positively identified as an SCP-2774 instance and destroyed. No other media in the Scotts’ residence contained SCP-2774-A.
Observation of Dr. Scott over the following days confirmed that he had not been affected by SCP-2774.

[interview with Conrad, where Agent Jeffries breaks the bad news to him and offers him a job]

<begin log>
[Agent J███████ enters the room where Dr. Scott is being kept for observation.]
Conrad Scott: [rapidly rises to his feet] Where’s my wife? Why is that door locked? What’s going on here?
Agent J███████: Please relax, Dr. Scott.
Conrad Scott: I’ll relax when I can see my wife!
Agent J███████: Your wife is in very serious cond-
Conrad Scott: Serious what? You won’t even tell me what’s wrong with her!
Agent J███████: I will if you’ll calm down for a second!
Conrad Scott: …fine. But leave that damn door open!
Agent J███████: I can’t do that, Dr. Scott. [closes the door] This is a matter of some secrecy.
Conrad Scott: Secrecy?
Agent J███████: You should probably take a seat.
Conrad Scott: I’ll stand.
Agent J███████: Suit yourself. [sits down] I’m not a doctor. I’m an undercover agent.
Conrad Scott: Yeah, and I’m Thor.
Agent J███████: I work for the SCP Foundation, an organization that keeps the public safe from supernatural phenomena and ensures that they remain secret.
Conrad Scott: Let me out of here.
[Dr. Scott moves towards the door. Agent J███████ produces his pistol and points it at Dr. Scott.]
Agent J███████: Sit down, Dr. Scott.
Conrad Scott: What-
Agent J███████: Sit down.
[Dr. Scott settles uneasily on the hospital bed.]
Agent J███████: I need you to listen to me, Conrad. I am trying to explain what has happened to your wife, and what nearly happened to you. In doing so, I am disclosing highly classified information. I do not intend to kill you, but I will not hesitate to do so if you jeopardize the Foundation’s secrecy by behaving foolishly. Do you understand?
Conrad Scott: Y-yes.
Agent J███████: Once again, I am an undercover agent of the SCP Foundation, an organization that labors to protect human civilization and reality as we know it from various supernatural phenomena. Phenomena such as the one that has affected your wife.
Conrad Scott: What?
Agent J███████: Your wife has fallen victim to a being designated as SCP-2774. It manifests in works of pre-recorded media as a humanoid entity wearing a sloth costume. Some people who view the affected media begin to experience symptoms like your wife’s. They lapse into an unconscious state, during which time they are aware but unable to control their actions, broken only by daily 150-second intervals of clarity. We kept you for observation, and locked the door of your room, to ensure that you had not also been affected.
Conrad Scott: That…that’s ridiculous.
Agent J███████: Yes, it is. But it’s still true.
Conrad Scott: What, and I’m just supposed to take your word for it? At gunpoint, for emphasis?
Agent J███████: No, you aren’t.
[Agent J███████ reaches into his satchel with one hand, keeping his eyes and the gun trained on Dr. Scott. Agent J███████ removes a small, handheld whiteboard from his satchel. A triangle with two right angles and one [DATA EXPUNGED]-degree angle has been drawn on the whiteboard in permanent marker (see Log of Anomalous Objects II)]
Conrad Scott: What…what?!
Agent J███████: Take as long as you need.
[Dr. Scott stares intently at the whiteboard for almost a minute, growing increasingly confused.]
Agent J███████: I have a protractor and some scratch paper, if you’d like to do the math.
Conrad Scott: Aaargh! [Dr. Scott covers his face with his hands.]
Agent J███████: Now do you believe me?
Conrad Scott: [still covering his face] Mind-controlling sloth man is a big jump from impossible triangle.
Agent J███████: Is it? I’ve just refuted an absolute law of geometry. You’re an educated man, Doctor Scott. You know this object is impossible. Yet it exists.
Conrad Scott: [sighing and lowering his hands] Fine. Fine, I believe in impossible triangles. Hell, I’ll believe in an evil photobombing sloth. I’ll even believe that this STD Foundation exists. But honestly, Agent B██████, if that is your name, I don’t care. I just want my wife back.
Agent J███████: I know you do, Doctor. I would also like to see her recover.
Conrad Scott: [groaning] But?
Agent J███████: If she did, she would be the first of thousands.
Conrad Scott: [sobbing] God.
Agent J███████: I’m sorry.
Conrad Scott: Fuck you.
[Agent J███████ lowers his gun. Dr. Scott begins to sob heavily.]
Conrad Scott: What’s going to happen to her?
Agent J███████: She’ll be taken to the same secret facility where we keep the other victims. They’re working on a cure there, but I won’t lie to you, Doctor. She’ll probably be like this for the rest of her life.
Conrad Scott: [wailing] Oh God!
[Dr. Scott weeps uncontrollably for several minutes. Agent J███████ puts the anomalous whiteboard back in his bag and waits patiently.]
Conrad Scott: [sniffling] Why? Why are you telling me this? Are you gonna take me there too? Lock me up forever because I know too much?
Agent J███████: No, Doctor Scott. I will offer you a choice.
Conrad Scott: Choice between what?
Agent J███████: Between knowing more and remembering nothing.
Conrad Scott: What?
Agent J███████: Under normal circumstances, we would just wipe everything about the sloth – and this entire conversation – from your memory and implant a false recollection of Allison’s death, here at the hospital. A funeral would be staged, and you would go back to your life without your wife but never suspecting that anything supernatural had occurred. We’ve done that more times than I know. But these are not normal circumstances.
Conrad Scott: Well, that’s a fuckin’ understatement.
Agent J███████: For you, perhaps. But these situations are unfortunately rather common in my line of work. And in yours, if you’re interested.
Conrad Scott: What?
Agent J███████: I’m offering you a job, Doctor Scott. Your skills and experience would be quite useful to us at the Foundation.
Conrad Scott: You’re joking.
Agent J███████: I’m not. You’re a linguistics expert and a trained psychologist. And, if your continued existence as a free-willed human being is any indication, your memetic resistance is nothing to sneeze at.
Conrad Scott: Memetic what?
Agent J███████: You saw the sloth, just like Allison, but you were completely unaffected. Though we haven’t tested you yet, I’d wager that you’re quite resistant to mind-affecting things like that sloth. And, unfortunately, there are a lot of those.
Conrad Scott: [laughing] Sure, sure. But tell me this, Agent. Why, when I just lost the woman I love to one of these things, would be at all interested in dealing with the rest of them?
Agent J███████: Because you’d be keeping anyone else from losing the people they love to them. Because it’s the only way you’ll be allowed to remember what really happened to Allison. And because she’ll be lucid for two and a half minutes every day, and she’d probably like it if you visited her.
Conrad Scott: You’d let me see her?
Agent J███████: Of course we would. We’re cold, not cruel.
Conrad Scott: Would you let me see her first? Before you wiped my memory, I mean?
Agent J███████: We would, but we’d have to wipe that too if she said anything about the sloth.
Conrad Scott: Of course you would. [sigh] So it’s the blue pill or the red pill, huh?
Agent J███████: Yep.
Conrad Scott: [nodding] Alright then. [crying again] Dammit.
<end log>

[Conrad's recollection of the memetics department orientation, where a younger recruit calls him "grandpa", he makes a lewd joke about that guy's grandma, and then enjoys his trip while the rest of them are screaming and puking]
Simon Glass flipped past the next few documents: Conrad’s initial physical and psych eval (the latter of which Glass had conducted), some information summarizing the various ways they’d modified his official documentation with the government and other agencies to create a cover story for his Foundation employment, and all the other standard parts of every personnel file. Nothing about these papers was particularly exceptional, but a few things were interesting enough to stand out. His physical confirmed a high memetic resistance, probably honed by self-reported LSD and marijuana usage in the doctor’s younger days. A combination of arthritis and bad genes had left him with an artificial knee, and the file had been updated to reflect the hip he’d had replaced since he signed on with the Foundation. Bad joints aside, Conrad was as healthy as any man of his age and activity level could expect.
When he first came aboard, Scott had been judged most useful in the memetics division, where his degrees and high resistance already made him more qualified than many younger and more experienced employees. A report from the memetics division orientation humorously noted that he’d been the only one enjoying his trip while the other recruits were busy screaming.

Sometimes, when nightmares like these drove him from the bed in those long hours of the morning when nothing good ever happens, Conrad wondered if coming to work for the Foundation had really been worth it. When Allison had fallen victim to SCP-2774, he’d been offered a choice: forget it, and her real fate, forever, or step behind the curtain and join the wizard. At the time, the choice had seemed clear. Watching the Foundation take Allison away to be locked up with the sloth’s other victims was already the most horrible thing he’d ever had experienced, but the thought of being amnestized and going on about his life, thinking she was dead while she rotted away in containment as the helpless puppet of some alien force somehow made it even worse. He chose to join the Foundation instead of forgetting it, so that way at least he could be there for Allison during her brief, terrifying moments of lucidity.

[a report of Dr. Scott's good work with 4068 and subsequent transfer to 1981; alternatively, he worked with 116 as Dr. Redacted's assistant and was transferred to 1981 when the 116 project was canceled]
Though he’d requested it until ordered to stop, Scott had never been allowed to work on the same anomaly that had claimed his wife or at the Site where she was contained, for security reasons.
Though he’d requested it until ordered to stop, Scott had never been allowed to work on the same anomaly that had claimed his wife or even at the same Site. As things stood it was already a controversial setup, letting him keep his memories of a loved one who was now an object in containment. Personnel with similar affiliations were typically made to forget their familial connection to minimize security risks, but Glass had determined that Conrad presented little danger in that regard. A certain other researcher with relatives in containment had also put in a good word, though Scott would never know it. He still hadn’t been allowed much contact with his wife since she was denied access to communication devices and it was borderline impossible to synchronize a visit with her random daily intervals of 150-minute lucidity anyway. They had been allowed to exchange notes, however, once it was confirmed that Allison had written hers while lucid. Several such notes were included in the file, but Glass skipped them out of respect for the Scott family’s privacy (and, he privately noted, because the desperate anguish and longing contained in that stack of letters would’ve been enough to make Clef cry). Except for the last one, that is:

listen conrad I only have 150 seconds and they won’t listen to me when I tell them but I want to die. please ask them to “terminate” me I don’t want to live exist like this anymore it isn’t fair to me or you. I’m sory I know it hurts but it’ll hurt less when I’m dead and you don’t have to spend everyday hoping they’ll cure me and knowing they can’t and I don’t have to spend every day staring at that fucking sloth. I love you Conrad, you know that, I said I would love you forever when I married you andthat’s still true but PLEASE I CAN’T D

Conrad’s reply was included as well, photocopied onto the same sheet of paper.

I love you too, Allison. I’m sorry.

True to his wife’s wishes, Conrad had filed a formal termination request with Dr. Martin at Site-116. He had another request as well, that he be allowed to spend an entire day with her prior to termination to ensure that he could catch her lucid to receive her last words in person.

[transcript of Conrad's last conversation with Allison, where he tells her she's going to be terminated and she's grateful]

[disciplinary report of Dr. Scott being taken off 1981 for trying to communicate with it and getting sent to ABCA-14 as punishment]

The Great Quagga Heist

ARD says I should make up cool shit and then write the magic around it.

• I want Mel to fight a gold golem with diamond eyes, teeth, and knuckles.
• Black Queen Faceless/Little Sunshine is a ninja.
• Liv crawls through the vents to either sabotage the security computer or unlock Quincy's paddock.
• Vivian can pick locks and make explosives, despite her lack of hands.
• They escape by releasing all the quaggas (and maybe some other magical creatures MC&D is breeding in the same facility, like the spiky unicorns). Sara leads the charge astride Quincy. The lemony narrator explains that zebras are much more violent and dangerous than horses.
• There are EyePods patrolling the vents. Foundation corruption or corporate espionage?

The tower where Quincy is being held is protected by a magical ward that senses anyone entering the building not through one of the few authorized entry points, each of which is protected by magic and metal detectors and various human and not-human guards. However, Sara notices that the place has a rat problem, meaning that the ward doesn't catch small creatures. This allows Liv to crawl in through the vents.

Before that, Little Sunshine will scout out the place. She swipes a guy's ID (the ward is keyed to the IDs, rather than specific aura signatures, because of high employee turnover or something) without him noticing and walks through at the same time as him so the guards will think the alarm was because he didn't have an ID, not because she walked through with unauthorized weapons or whatever. She can infiltrate any area that doesn't have automated security measures, though the AI running the non-magical security systems might still be able to see her if it tries hard enough. She notices everything and remembers all of it, so she'll be able to provide an accurate blueprint of quite a lot of the building.

The wards prevent apportation in or out, so they'll have to lead Quincy out through the same service entrance that the animals are brought in and out of, around back. The room where the quaggas are kept doesn't have any sensors (since the quaggas would set them off) but Quincy is locked up. There is a key or combination, however, since nobody important enough to have DNA locks would be handling animals.

Mel's fight with the gold golem:

• It tries to punch xer and xe catches both fists. Xe headbutts it but the soft gold simply absorbs xer attacks.
• The golem kicks xer in the gut, but xe's also able to push it over.
• While the golem is trying to get up, Mel pounces on it and begins trying to rip its head off, digging xer hooved fingers into its soft body. Before the golem can fight xer off, xe succeeds.
• Mel steps back while the golem gets up, then pitches the head at one of its knees. The impact dents the knee, throwing it off balance.
• Mel punches the golem, knocking it over sideways. Xe attempts to slam both fists down onto its back, but it sweeps xer legs with one arm, then grabs xer and stands up with the other.
• The golem slams Mel into the wall but the motion doesn't have much force behind it.
• Mel headbutts the golem to the ground.
• Unfortunately, xer antlers get stuck in the gold and xe's pulled down too. The golem grabs xer neck and starts trying to strangle xer. Xe can't overpower its grip, so xe starts hammering on one of its elbows instead, until the arm gets so dented xe can rip it off and roll out of the golem's grasp.
• Mel and the golem stagger to their feet at the same time; xe's still dizzy from being strangled, and it's having a hard time getting around with only one arm and a busted leg.
• Mel starts beating it with its own ripped-off arm. Eventually, xe hits it so hard overhand that the arm gets stuck in the golem's torso, where its neck used to be. Mel tries to plant a foot on its chest to pull the arm out, but that gives it an opportunity to swipe at xer leg and hurt xer own knee.
• While Mel staggers away, the golem pulls its arm out of its body and reattaches it, the malleable gold flowing back into place.
• The golem starts to go for its head (or maybe the head crawled back to it, like The Thing). Mel tries to stop it from reattaching but is unsuccessful. Or heck, maybe the golem just picks up the head without reattaching it.
• From its ruby eyes, the gold golem fires a money beam - a green concussive blast that packs the same force as the rubies' worth in a much smaller currency, like gold, bills, or even pennies. The force of the blast beats Mel nearly to death, maybe even knocking xer down.
• The golem reattaches its head, then begins whaling on Mel. As a finishing move, it grabs xer by the antlers, slams xer against a wall, and kicks xer through it, ripping off both antlers in the process.

At the end, they try to load Quincy into a getaway vehicle but he won't do it because of the trauma MC&D put him through. Mel is unconscious and too big for the others to move, but since xe fell outside the building Liv apportates xer out - despite Mel's size and Liv's dwindling EVE after all the sneaking and unlocking. Sunshine then sneaks away invisbly, forcing Sara to escape on Quincy's back. Their destination is a nearby Way leading back to the library, but they'll be hard-pressed to outrun MC&D's security and the cops there. Some did beat them there, maybe some Triumvirate forces. Sara thinks she's doomed, but then she sees that Vivian has placed a bunch of IEDs around the Way. While Sammy wrestles with Vivian to keep her from blowing up the pigs, Sara points out the bombs and bluffs that she's got a detonator, successfully talking her way through the people blocking the door. Vivian and Sammy follow her through right before the Way shuts behind her, trapping the pigs (who don't know the Knock) on the other side.

Sea Sloth

An immense marine sloth. It uses its heavy claws to anchor itself to the seabed and remains asleep most of the time, only waking up occasionally to graze from the kelp that grows in its fur. The Foundation gets worried when it suddenly wakes up and starts swimming toward shore, afraid that it's going to attack a city or something. However, all it does is haul itself out of the water, take a massive stinky dump, then crawl back into the ocean. Sloths go back down to the ground to poop.

Werewaifu

PAMWAC summons a waifu from a Castlevania-like anime, only to discover that she was a werewolf plot twist villain not yet revealed by the series.

Stone Cold Pyre

Initially formed from the Department of Musicals to deal with a specific musical anomaly like the one you mentioned, the task force persisted afterwards, initially for the purpose of similar missions but later because the Foundation found their profits to be a useful source of funding.

Their self titled debut met lukewarm reception despite the band’s talent and excellent production, as its lyrics and overall sound were uninspired and formulaic (as a result of the Foundation’s meddling, in a failed attempt to ensure commercial success).

However, much insistence from the Department of Musicals persuaded the higher-ups to give the band a little more creative freedom on the second album. That’s why, on Sudden Change of Pace, they wrote what they knew and sung obliquely about real SCP objects under the guise of fiction.

At the same time, SCP replaced their original rock singer with one who had a more operatic style, beginning a shift away from mainstream rock and towards a more symphonic metal sound that would eventually become their signature sub-sub-sub-genre of “Containment Metal”.

The third album continued this trend, and even featured some small contributions from actual objects - samples of 058 on the stoner-doom track “The Drooling Path,” and an earth-shaking vocal bass solo from a mysterious guest vocalist credited only as “Fernand I of France”.

But then, while the band was on tour, the Veil was lifted.

Stone Cold Pyre was swept up in the public backlash against the newly-revealed Foundation, forcing them into seclusion until the Second War of the Flesh subsided.

The resulting tensions and bureaucratic reorganizations made things difficult for the band, but out of adversity came art - an album called “Exposed”. Its humorous cover, depicting the nude band members covered only by their instruments, belied its serious subject matter, which dealt with the confusing feelings of the post veil world.

Exposed redeemed Pyre in the eyes of the public and proved to be the most successful release of their career, largely because it was their most honest work by far, freed from the constraints of secrecy.

It seemed that Stone Cold Pyre was destined for greatness…but then came the disaster known as There Is No Fifth Album.

No one involved can clearly remember what happened, but the carnage left in its wake and few surviving bootlegs suggest that it was a psychedelic album incorporating fifthist elements, with predictable results.

Unable to remember whose, if anyone’s, idea this was, the band blamed each other, setting off a powderkeg that ended in the lead vocalist leaving the band to start a solo career. Some believe that the Foundation secretly orchestrated her departure to bring the band’s membership from 5 to 4, but the others deny it. What can’t be denied is that the foundation forbid further references to and inclusions of anomalies.

This creative stifling, combined with the lasting tensions and strict contract deadlines, led to a much-panned cover album featuring a variety of guest vocalists, each more enthusiastic than the actual band.

People thought SCP was no more, but they had one last album - perhaps their greatest - left in them.

Fueled by the pain and strife of the last several years, Dust and Blood is Pyre’s darkest, heaviest, and most emotionally raw piece, diving headlong into the death metal genre as the two guitarists - who previously only contributed backing vocals - stepped up to the plate to trade death growls instead. This was a double concept album inspired by the mythology of the Scarlet King. The first recounted the King's rise to power as described in his cult's mythology (Dust and Blood), while the second tells of his foretold defeat (The Real Adventures in Capitalism). Its brutal sound and subject matter ensured that it never went mainstream, but many of Pyre’s fans claim it is a greater work of art than any of their previous releases.

But after that, it became too much. Stone Cold Pyre went their separate ways.

Track Listings

• Stone Cold Pyre
• Sudden Change of Pace
• Still Continuing to Play
  • The Drooling Path - a doom metal track with samples of 058
  • The Riddle (feat. Fernand the First of France)
• Exposed
• There is no Fifth Album
• Standard Cover Story
• Dust and Blood
  • Song of Sanna - epic closing track like Blood Empress

They also did a live album called "Live at Site-19".

Nightmare on 17th Street 2

CuBard's idea:

I imagined the movie would be based on one Halloween night where she manages to escape Clef. The movie would be split into 3 acts where: 1) the kids run from Clef and into the woods, 2) Iris, Meri and Claudia leave a Halloween party to find them & 3) a B-plot where 053 and 682 (the spooky duo) act as observers to the rest of the movie's events

Takes place one or more in-dream years after the first two tales. When Siggy restored the dream, she altered events so that:

• She escaped when Clef tried to stab her. He chased her but was stopped by Mr. Kondraki, who took a knife and died in the process. Clef was arrested and locked up at a local mental hospital.
• Rather than SCP-106, the teens were killed by a crazy old farmer who, the story goes, responded to the trespassing teens and their loud music as if he were still in the trenches. Iris is said to have killed Farmer Larry, but she still remembers what really happened. Iris is something of a pariah among the few surviving members of her class and badly burdened with survivor's guilt. She spent a while in therapy and eventually learned to shut up about her false memories, but she still believes they're real. Iris has covered much of the inside of her room with photos of the deceased. Siggy's parents hate her for almost letting their daughter get killed. Only one person believes Iris's version of events - the police officer who found her at the scene, Officer Harken.
• Siggy has drifted apart from her friends since that night, since their parents don't trust her anymore. Fiona's an amputee and Stella's blind now, but everyone acts like it's always been that way.
• Mr. Clef was eventually identified as one Francis Wojcienchowski, who murdered his wife and child at the House on Montauk Hill several years ago. Apparently he changed his identity somehow…you know, I alluded to scary stories about him way back in the first tale. Maybe he's always been the suspected Montauk Murderer, but there was never any proof. Maybe he's known to be the Montauk Murderer, but he somehow evaded incarceration on a technicality, self-defense, or insanity.

A Plot: Siggy talks her friends into sneaking out and/or gets dared to spend a night at the haunted, long-abandoned House on Montauk Hill. Is it widely known that Clef was also the Montauk Murderer?

B Plot: Iris decides that the only person who might also know the truth is Mr. Clef. She goes to the mental hospital to talk to him, pretending to interview him for the school paper. Clef knows exactly who she is and isn't surprised to see that her memories are still mostly intact. He gives some creepy warnings but eventually scares her off. While at the asylum, Iris bumps into Meri, who either suspects that Clef is her father based on the timing of her adoption (she was found on the doorstep of a church) and the Montauk Murders or knows it for sure, having been informed after the investigation. If this info is publicly known, Meri is probably a pariah too. Her visit upsets Clef in ways he didn't expect, because somehow she's gotten a normal life out of all this. In a fit of reality bending, he busts out of jail that night and - not even looking for Siggy - returns to the House on Montauk Hill.

C Plot: In a flashback, the infant SCP-053 is flung off a bridge by her mother. A huge monster (682, which Siggy can't force out or turn into something less dangerous) finds the child and takes care of her. She's grown up in the woods, but 682 taught her how to speak and she emulates people as best she can. 053 is the reason 682 hasn't gone on a rampage or tried to disrupt the dream.

When Clef escapes the asylum, word is immediately put out (we will not be repeating Halloween (1978) tonight, thank you). Meri beelines for the Montauk House, knowing that's where he'll be, despite the efforts of her adoptive sister Claudia to stop her. Iris, on the other hand, beelines for Siggy's house, only to discover (along with her parents) that Siggy has gone missing.

Clef and the kiddos collide at the House on Montauk Hill. He wasn't originally going to try to kill Siggy again, but he's no longer thinking straight - maybe Siggy subconsciously forces him to attack. After some frightening encounters in the house, they flee into the woods.

Iris, Meri, and Claudia somehow link up and head to the Montauk House, arriving there after the kids escape but before Clef leaves and getting into another conflict with him. This is less of a straight fight and more of the characters trying to remind each other of the real world or something.

In the woods, the girls meet 053. She's been watching them and wants to make friends.

At the end, Clef catches the kids and almost manages to kill Siggy again before 682 lunges in and mortally wounds him. However, Iris has fully regained her memories now and understands what's happening. She leads Siggy back to lucidity and convinces her that this isn't right. Together, and potentially with dying Clef's assistance, they change reality back to the way it was while simultaneously splitting Siggy and those who wanted to go with her off into a fully separate dream world that doesn't involve inadvertent mind control. Several of the characters might prefer a never-ending lucid dream to life in containment.

---

Other characters to include in minor roles:

• Either Adams and Foxx or Beats and Adrian as Iris's parents. If they're not Iris's parents, Adams and Foxx should instead be incompetent police or asylum guards who get killed by Clef
• Cade, his best friend Bes, and a hot girl they're fighting over.
• Liam, Brad, Leif, and Candy, to establish that they survived the previous tale.
• Rainer, Jackie, Leora, Stacey, and Anne, as classmates of Iris who didn't die in the barn collapse and don't like her very much.
• Cameron the Crusader and a few other SCP children, classmates of Siggy who dare or bully her into visiting the House on Montauk Hill.
• Factotum September as the principal of the high school.

---

Scene checklist - Siggy's POV

• Siggy is excited to go to school. Her parents try to talk her out of it, but she insists that she isn't scared or traumatized.
• Siggy tries to talk to her friends on the bus, but their parents have them to stay away from her. Some do, some don't. Some give in after an ontokinetic nudge.
• At school, some mean kids try to scare Siggy by reminding her of what happened two years ago. One of her friends sticks up for her.
• Siggy and her friends all have separate meetings with the counselor scheduled as well, but those get improbably canceled to make room for a Halloween celebration in the gym instead.
• At the Halloween party, Siggy's repressed fears manifest as a hallucination of Clef that dissolves into another kid wearing an extremely insensitive costume. Siggy's parents prevented her from trick-or-treating last year, which has given her a reputation as a scaredy-cat among the meaner children. Cameron dares her to prove she's not a chicken by breaking into the House on Montauk Hill later that night. Siggy sees no reason to be afraid of some empty old house that Mr. Clef hasn't even lived in for almost twenty years, and she certainly doesn't want to be a chicken. She ends up dragging her friends along again, because some are concerned for her and others have caught secondhand accusations of chicken-ness. The bullies might call Stella or Cindy something ableist, which gives them another reason to prove those jerks wrong.
• Siggy, whose parents have once again forbidden her from trick-or-treating, sneaks out. Her friends either do the same or slip their chaperones, meeting up at a predetermined place on their bikes. They ride to the House on Montauk Hill, where the bullies are waiting.

Scene checklist - Iris's POV

• Iris in her room, scrutinizing photos of the people who died two years previously.
• At breakfast, Iris gets in an argument with her folks. She doesn't want to go to school today, not after the breakdown she had last Halloween (link to Dapper's tale), but her therapist insists that she's made great progress and needs to get past that mental block.
• Arriving at school, Iris is mocked and stared at by her classmates.
• That afternoon, instead of Halloween festivities, an assembly is held in memory of those who died in the barn collapse. Iris hides out in the office of the guidance counselor or a favorite teacher, since this is the event during which she had her breakdown last year. As Iris is entering the counselor's office, she passes a tearful Meri, who has just been told that Clef is indeed her biological father.
• While tuning out her counselor, Iris remembers a conversation she had with Clef, during a brief period when they were in the asylum together after her breakdown. The cryptic things he said are the main reason she suspects that her false memories might actually be the real ones.

Meri's POV

• Meeting with the counselor, news about Clef.
• Flashback to the story of her adoption. It was never a secret (Claudia is black and she's not), but her true parentage is a secret.
• Claudia, adoptive sister, comforts her. She agrees to drive Meri to the asylum.
• Meri confronts Clef. He is surprised and shaken by this; Clef knows this masquerade is worse than the real world, so it seems unfair that his daughter has a better and normal life inside it. Her presence also makes his false(ish) memories, implanted by the CK, resurge, and he has a 4231-style breakdown upon being forced to remember the events at the House on Montauk Hill. Clef keeps it together and uses his defensive abrasiveness to scare her off, but starts falling apart almost immediately.

Other POVs

• the memorial service, which exposits what happened in this version of reality

OPENING CREDITS

["Into the Fire" by Dokken]

[A girl is cutting pictures from newspapers. Headlines like "DOZENS DIE IN BARN COLLAPSE," "PSYCHO VET SLAUGHTERS TEENS," "SOLE SURVIVOR OF SAMHAIN SLASHING SUFFERS SANITY SLIPPAGE" are visible. She uses thumbtacks to affix the pictures to a corkboard.]

[Wider shot, showing IRIS from the back, staring contemplatively at the collage of her dead classmates' faces with her arms crossed.]

[Someone knocks on the door. IRIS is startled from her reverie and quickly covers her mosaic before saying]

IRIS: Come in!

[BEATS opens the door. Her expression is sad, but compassionate.]

BEATS: Hey.

[camera faces IRIS, showing her face in full for the first time]

IRIS: What?

BEATS: [softly] You're gonna be late.

IRIS: I'm not going.

2068 outtakes

tab Proposed Revision

Submitted to the office of the O5 Council on September 20th, 2014 by Area Director Commander (ret.) Thomas MacLean.

Proposal: The following shall be appended to SCP-2068's containment procedures:

A portion of SCP-2068's containment budget is to be redirected to non-violent humanitarian efforts in the Middle East, particularly the state of Iraq.

To ensure that the recently-upgraded physical containment measures remain effective, the overall budget should be increased to account for the donations.

Reasoning: SCP-2068's increasing unpredictability and lethality prove that indefinite physical containment is unreliable at best and impossible at worst. From the beginning, the only consistent predictor of SCP-2068's behavior has been violence in Iraq. While I recognize that completely halting the conflict would likely be impossible even without the constraints of the Veil and our various agreements with the relevant GoIs and governments, the Foundation does have enough resources to at least take the edge off the war's humanitarian consequences. Any bloodshed that we prevent over there is bloodshed that we prevent at Area-14. Maybe 2068 will ease up if it sees that we're trying to help. - Thomas MacLean.

Status: DENIED

Further Notes: It is the opinion of the O5 Council that this proposal would be a waste of resources. As admitted by Director MacLean himself, Foundation interference is unlikely to bring about lasting peace in Iraq or, therefore, a cessation of hostilities from SCP-2068.

---

Bush: Every drop of blood must be repaid. It isn't my fault that you put those men in my way.

Hull: Uh, Tom?

[Hull motions for MacLean to lean in. The two of them have a whispered, unrecorded conversation.]

MacLean: Alright George, how much do you know about the Foundation?

[Bush grins.]

Bush: Why?

MacLean: What would you do if the war ended?

[Bush chuckles. The flames covering him rise higher, and the skin of his face begins to melt.]

Bush: I thought you said you weren't American.

MacLean: Would you stop, though? If the war did?

Bush: Would the suffering?

MacLean: I'm sure some humanitarian aid-

[Bush cackles loudly. His melting face reveals dark red skin and black markings underneath.]

Bush: Don't kid me, director. The war pigs that rule your Foundation are just like the ones who birthed me. Why would they help anyone when they could just lock me in this wonderful box? They won't even share their miracle cure with my miserable little translator. No, director, there's no weaseling out of this. The damage has been done. The blood has been shed.

[Bush's eyes burst, revealing tongues of green flame in the empty sockets.]

Bush: And you will be stuck in here with me until there's no one left to burn.

[MacLean stands.]

MacLean: Is this all you called us down here for? Threats and gloating?

Bush: No.

[Wegley cries out in pain and falls from his chair.]

Wegley: GET DOWN! IT'S GONNA-

[Wegley explodes.]

[[tab Emergency Containment Procedures]]

Until SCP-2068's new containment apparatus is completed, Section N2 is off-limits to personnel not specifically cleared for access. All personnel working within Section N2 are to remain equipped with MOPP-4 gear at all times. Personnel assigned to Section N2 are to be placed under temporary quarantine and armed guard in section C2 when not working.

Construction work is to be carried out by D-class personnel, under the direction of Containment Supervisor Dr. Jericho Epstein.

If SCP-2068 activates, all personnel in Section N2 are to immediately evacuate into Section C2. Work crews in Section N2 are to be supervised by armed members of AMTF Nu-7 ("Hammer Down") equipped with natural gas detectors. If an increase in gas levels is detected, Nu-7 supervisors are to burn off the gas with flamethrowers before it reaches explosive concentrations.

Communication between work crews and the rest of the site is to be accomplished with modified Morse code-capable radios with speakers and microphones disabled.

Section C2 is to remain sealed off from the rest of the facility.

Until the pathology of SCP-2068-A is fully understood, no personnel who were within Area-14 on August Xth are allowed to leave.

Instead of simple electronic communication, they should talk to the pump through Micah.

Without the containment breach logs, I need some other way

---

• 1953 Iranian coup - the CIA deposes the democratically elected prime minster of Iran and reinstalls the monarchy
• Iranian Revolution - Islamic fundamentalists overthrow the monarchy
• Iran Hostage Crisis
• Iran-Iraq War - Saddam takes advantage of Iranian chaos to invade. US officially supports Iraq. Iran uses human wave tactics, Iraq uses nerve gas.
• Iran Contra Affair - US sells weapons to Iran, uses the proceeds to fund the Contras in Guatemala
• Gulf War - Iraq invades Kuwait, hoping to restore the massive debt it incurred fighting Iran
• Iraq War I - after 9/11, the Bush administration fabricates evidence that Iraq was responsible and invades. Saddam is deposed but no new government is established.
• Iraq War II - Obama pulls the troops out, ISIS rises. Troops go back in. ISIS falls. Troops gradually start leaving, but the insurgency continues.

The pump isn't really aligned with any particular cause or side. It isn't even properly sentient, not in the same way that we are. Iraqi civilians suffered horrible fates in these wars, and so did Kuwaitis, and Iranians, and Syrians, and the US soldiers themselves.

And people from all sides did horrible things to each other, as is always the case in war, especially one like Iraq.

The pump doesn't understand the complex morality of war; hell, we don't understand that.

All it knows is that politicians hide themselves away, making war just for fun, treating people just like pawns in chess…and it is their judgement day.

Greed, violence, suffering, senseless death and destruction, all the sorrow of those caught in between, all the anger, all the burning thirst for vengeance, for Justice.

Because it's locked up in a bunker under a mountain in Nevada. It can't blow up George Bush from there. but it can definitely blow up somebody, and it can definitely scream every propaganda news broadcast and every anti-war protest song possible over every electronic device in the facility, and maybe that will make some kind of difference.

---

\\Before this demand would be met, Containment Supervisor Dr. Jericho Epstein requested that sentience of SCP-2068 be confirmed by anomalous means. SCP-978 was requisitioned for this purpose.

I am every hostage in a besieged embassy. I am every child martyred in a human wave. I am every breath of nerve gas in a civilian's lungs. I am every missile sold to both sides of a masturbatory proxy war gone wrong. I am every oil well set ablaze by a retreating army. I am every weapon of mass destruction that never existed. I am every lie uttered before Congress and the American people. I am seven billion tax dollars paid directly to the Vice President's oil company. I am every man, woman, and child blown to bits by drone strikes, suicide bombers, and IEDs. I am every black banner that flies above Mosul and every sex slave and severed head beneath it.

Bush: For every coup and puppet ruler. For every hostage and proxy war. For every martyred child and every breath of nerve gas. Every blazing oil well. Every lie on a leader's lips. Every bomb, bullet, and body. For every sex slave. For every severed head. And for *every single blood-soaked dollar.*

Bush: I am every democratic government destroyed by imperial interests. I am every hostage in a besieged embassy. I am every child martyred in a human wave. I am every breath of nerve gas in a civilian's lungs. I am every missile sold to both sides of a masturbatory proxy war gone wrong. I am every oil well set ablaze by a retreating army. I am every weapon of mass destruction that never existed. I am every lie uttered before Congress and the American people. I am seven billion tax dollars paid directly to the Vice President's oil company. I am every man, woman, and child blown to bits by drone strikes, suicide bombers, and IEDs. I am every black banner that flies above Mosul and every sex slave and severed head beneath it.

SCP-978 Extended Test Logs Excerpt

Subject: SCP-2068
Photographed Activity: Sitting motionless in its containment vault.
Photo Result: A desert landscape. Numerous stakes are driven into the ground, stretching to the horizon. A human figure is tied to each stake and apparently burning alive. Two figures, those closest to the camera, could be clearly identified: former U.S. Vice President Dick Cheney and Islamic State leader Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi. Closer examination has tentatively identified George W. Bush, Saddam Hussein, George H. W. Bush, Ruhollah Khomeini, Ronald Reagan, and others.

After confirmation of sentience, a communication attempt was made. Director MacLean

At 14:45, all audio devices in Area-14 began to play Black Sabbath's "War Pigs." All video devices were likewise compromised; they began to display live news coverage of the fall of Mosul to the Islamic State. As such, no security footage or other direct recording of the breach exists. The tentative timeline below has been pieced together mostly from the testimony of the survivors.

• The drains in SCP-2068's containment chamber became clogged with unusually viscous SCP-2068-A similar to tar or asphalt.
• After the conclusion of "War Pigs," all compromised audio equipment vocalized the phrase "Die for oil, sucker."[[footnote]A snippet from Jello Biafra's spoken-word track of the same name.[[/footnote]
• A gas explosion occurred in SCP-2068's chamber, destroying its door. SCP-2068-A of the usual thin consistency began rapidly flooding the rest of section N2. The security system sensed the damage and automatically sealed the section off from the rest of the facility. ██ personnel, including Medical Director Dr. Christopher Zartion, became trapped inside.
• The SCP-2068-A caught fire. The resulting smoke triggered the sprinkler system, which only caused the oil to spread more rapidly.
• ██ personnel were fatally infected with SCP-2068-A by unburned droplets in the smoke before the others managed to don respiratory protective equipment.
• The survivors took shelter in section N2's central freezer. Dr. Zartion has stated that he made this decision because the freezer's reinforced walls, airtight seals, and temperature control would protect them from the fire, smoke, oil, and any further explosions.
• SCP-6643 manifested from the pool of burning oil. It tripped Security Lieutenant Angela Ong, who was subsequently engulfed by the flood and immolated.
• The entirety of section N2 was flooded with burning SCP-2068-A.
• Within the freezer, two vials of SCP-2068-A in cold storage exploded, shattering several other vials of anomalous pathogen samples.
• Janitorial and Maintenance Co-Head Micah Wegley entered the maintenance tunnels below section N2, climbed into the blast furnace, and manually unclogged the drains with a plastic mop handle. He suffered severe burns and SCP-2068-A in the process.
• When the oil began draining from section N2, SCP-2068 deactivated.

AMTF Nu-7's Chemical-Biological-Radiological-Nuclear platoon was dispatched from Nu-7's base in nearby Snake Valley to

SCP-2068 is believed to have activated simultaneously with the beginning of the music. It began producing unusually viscous SCP-2068-A, similar to tar or asphalt. The drains in the containment chamber, which had been built for SCP-2068-A of a much thinner consistency, became clogged. It is believed that SCP-2068 also began producing a large amount of natural gas at this time.

Most personnel failed to connect the music with SCP-2068, as they were not aware of its full properties and interference with the intercom system prevent an announcement or warning from being issued. Medical Director Dr. Christopher Zartion realized that a breach was occurring and ran to section N2 to inform the personnel within.

Shortly after the conclusion of "War Pigs," compromised audio equipment vocalized the phrase "Die for oil, sucker."[[footnote]A snippet from Jello Biafra's spoken-word track of the same name.[[/footnote]. A powerful gas explosion then occurred in SCP-2068's containment chamber, destroying the door. Section N2's automatic biohazard security measures sensed the damage and sealed it off from the rest of the facility, trapping ██ personnel, including Dr. Zartion, inside. Compromised audio equipment continued to play various anti-war rock and metal songs for the duration of the breach.

Trapped personnel immediately began fleeing to the checkpoint, where Dr. Zartion and supervising security officer Angela Ong attempted to organize a response. Area Director MacLean arrived at the other side of the checkpoint at this time and began communicating with Zartion and Ong through the glass. They were forced to rely on written communication, due to the thickness of the glass and volume of the music. Director MacLean remained by the checkpoint for the remainder of the breach, relaying information and coordinating the rest of the facility's response.

Meanwhile, SCP-2068 had begun producing large amounts of SCP-2068-A with its usual thin consistency. With the drains clogged and the door destroyed, this substance was rapidly flooding out of the containment chamber and into the rest of section N2. It soon caught fire, either by spontaneous combustion or contact with an object set aflame by the preceding explosion. The resulting smoke triggered section N2's sprinkler system, which failed to extinguish the oil fire and caused the SCP-2068-A to spread more quickly.

Hearing the fire alarms, Dr. Zartion predicted that SCP-2068-A had been ignited and that its smoke would be an infectious hazard due to unburned oil droplets within. Personnel immediately began procuring respiratory protection from the nearby laboratories. Dr. Zartion's prediction was soon found to be correct; ██ personnel inhaled smoke and succumbed to SCP-2068-A infection before they could protect themselves. While retrieving protective gear, security officers sighted the spreading pool of burning oil and reported this back to Lieutenant Ong.

After conferring with with Director MacLean, Ong and Zartion agreed that the surviving personnel would take shelter in section N2's central containment freezer. This course of action was chosen because the freezer's airtight seals, temperature control, and reinforced walls would protect them from the fire, smoke, oil, and any further explosions. Many of the containment chambers and quarantine suites in section N2 also met some of those criteria, but all those which did not already contain a hostile and/or infectious subject had been unsealed at the time of the breach and therefore potentially compromised by the smoke. The freezer, due to the anomalous pathogen samples stored therein, was sealed by default and therefore the safest place remaining in the section.

Travel to the freezer was hampered by smoke-impeded visibility and dangerous heat. The survivors had to change course several times to avoid the fire. Just as they reached the freezer, SCP-6643 manifested from the pool of burning SCP-2068-A and tripped Lt. Ong, who was subsequently engulfed by the pool and immolated. The remaining ██ survivors entered the freezer, which Dr. Zartion sealed behind them.

Soon thereafter, Janitorial and Maintenance Co-Head Micah Wegley climbed inside the blast furnace to manually unclog the drains with a mop handle. He suffered severe burns and

Beginning on June 4th, 47 personnel (21 Class D) at Armed Bio-Contaiment Area-14 began to complain of fatigue, headache, memory problems, muscle or joint pain, diarrhea, and/or indigestion. No cause for the symptoms could be identified. As a precaution, Medical Director Dr. Christopher Zartion recommended that the facility be placed under lockdown until a vector could be identified. Director Thomas MacLean agreed with Dr. Zartion's assessment and, on October 12th, locked down the facility. The Area's sole exit was sealed, and personnel were instructed to remain within their quarters when not performing essential duties. Those who had reported symptoms were placed under quarantine for observation.

At 17:53 on June 10th, all audio devices in Area-14 began to play Black Sabbath's "War Pigs." All video devices were likewise compromised; they began to display live news coverage of the fall of Mosul to the Islamic State. As such, no security footage or other direct recording of the breach exists. The tentative timeline below has been pieced together mostly from the testimony of the survivors.

Upon realizing that a 2068 breach was in progress, Medical Director Dr. Christopher Zartion ran from his office in section C2 to the pathological containment section N2 to inform the security officers stationed at the connecting checkpoint. Area Director Thomas MacLean ran from his own office in section C1 to the central security station two floors above, to begin coordinating a response with Security Chief Enrique Torres.

Shortly after the conclusion of "War Pigs," compromised audio equipment vocalized the phrase "Die for oil, sucker."[[footnote]A snippet from Jello Biafra's spoken-word track of the same name.[[/footnote]. The facility was then rocked by simultaneous gas explosions in three separate locations:

• The class D housing blocks in section S2. The secure checkpoint at its entrance was destroyed and the guards defending it killed. An estimated 50% of onsite D-class were also killed, but severe structural damage allowed many of the survivors to escape their cells.
• The quarantine suites holding patients of the unknown illness. Their fragmentary remains petrified as expected for victims of SCP-2068-A.
• SCP-2068's containment chamber. Its door was destroyed.

SCP-2068 then began producing thick tar or bitumen that clogged the drains in its containment chamber, which caused the less viscous SCP-2068-A to flood out through the destroyed door and into section N2. The SCP-2068-A soon caught fire, either due to spontaneous combustion or accidental ignition by personnel. The resulting smoke triggered the section's sprinkler system, which was unable to extinguish the oil fire and only spread SCP-2068-A faster.

The personnel who had become trapped inside section N2 took shelter in the secure freezer at the center of the section. Dr. Zartion has stated that he suggested this course of action because the freezer's airtight seals, temperature control, and reinforced walls would protect them from the fire, smoke, oil, and any further explosions. On the way to the freezer, ██ personnel became infected with SCP-2068-A by unburned droplets in the smoke and rapidly expired. Those who survived did so because they had acquired respiratory protection beforehand and properly donned it, as called for in standard biohazard breach procedures.

Immediately before the group entered the freezer, SCP-6643 manifested from the pool of burning oil. One officer died as a result, but Dr. Zartion is unsure if she was dragged into the fire by SCP-6643 or merely tripped over it and became engulfed by the spreading pool.

Janitorial and Maintenance Co-Head Micah Wegley eventually used a mop handle to unclog the drains from below, suffering severe burns and SCP-2068-A exposure in the process. The flaming SCP-2068-A began to drain from section N2 and be incinerated as normal.

SCP-2068 deactivated at 19:00, returning audio and video functionality to most of the facility. Director MacLean immediately contacted the AMTF Nu-7 ("Hammer Down") headquarters in the valley below, requesting backup from their Chemical-Biological-Radiological-Nuclear platoon.

The CBRN platoon spent the following six hours cleansing Section N2 of remaining SCP-2068-A while the smoke (and any aerosolized SCP-2068-A therein) was filtered from its air supply. AMTF Nu-7 was not aware that anyone had survived; the explosions had disrupted the power supply to several security cameras throughout section N2, including the one in the freezer, and radio communications could not penetrate its metal exterior. As a result, the freezer was not opened until the cleanup was complete. By then, only Dr. Zartion remained alive, and in the latter stages of SCP-███ infection. Apparently, two vials of SCP-2068-A in cold storage had exploded, shattering several other vials and exposing the survivors to their contents. On the orders of O5-█, SCP-500 was administered to Dr. Zartion to save his life.

• The class D housing and security checkpoint in section S2, the quarantine suites in section N2, and SCP-2068's containment chamber were severely damaged by spontaneous gas explosions.
• ███ class D personnel were killed by the explosions or terminated by security forces while attempting to escape.
• ██ security officers and █ other personnel were killed by escaping class D personnel.
• ██ security officers were killed by fire, smoke, SCP-2068-A exposure, SCP-940, or SCP-6643.
• Medical Director Dr. Christopher Zartion suffered frostbite and hypothermia, and became infected with SCP-███, SCP-███, SCP-████, and SCP-████. He was administered a single instance of SCP-500 and is expected to make a full recovery.
• Section N2 was heavily damaged by fire, smoke, and flooding with SCP-2068-A.
• Janitorial and Maintenance Co-Head Micah Wegley suffered severe burns and was exposed to SCP-2068-A. He has been placed in permanent quarantine.

Addendum 2068-3: Containment Breach, June 10th, 2014

Beginning on June 4th, 47 personnel (including 21 D-Class) at Armed Bio-Contaiment Area-14 began to complain of fatigue, headache, memory problems, muscle or joint pain, diarrhea, and/or indigestion. No cause for the symptoms could be identified. As a precaution, Medical Director Dr. Christopher Zartion recommended that the facility be placed under lockdown until a vector could be identified. Director Thomas MacLean agreed with Dr. Zartion's assessment and, on October 12th, locked down the facility. The Area's sole exit was sealed, and personnel were instructed to remain within their quarters when not performing essential duties. Those who had reported symptoms were placed under quarantine for observation.

At 17:53 on June 10th, Dr. Zartion dialed Director MacLean's emergency phone number. The transcript of their phone call is printed below.

<begin log>

Zartion: -ty-eight!

MacLean: Chris, slow down! You started talking before I answered.

Zartion: It's twenty sixty-eight!

MacLean: What is?

Zartion: The mystery illness! I don't know if it's another form of dash-one or something else entirely but-

MacLean: Whoa, hold on! How did you figure this out?

Zartion: The symptoms are the same as Gulf War syndrome.

MacLean: Oh n-

[The telephone, and all other audio devices in Area-14, begin playing Black Sabbath's "War Pigs".]

<end log>

All video devices in Area-14 became compromised at this time as well; they began to display live news coverage of the fall of Mosul to the Islamic State. As such, no security footage or other direct recording of the breach exists.

Upon realizing that a 2068 breach was in progress, Dr. Zartion ran from his office in section C2 to the pathological containment section N2 to inform the security officers stationed at the connecting checkpoint.

Shortly after the conclusion of "War Pigs," compromised audio equipment vocalized the phrase "Die for oil, sucker."[[footnote]A snippet from Jello Biafra's spoken-word track of the same name.[[/footnote]. The facility was then rocked by multiple simultaneous gas explosions, originating in the class D housing section S2, the quarantine suites holding patients of the unknown illness, and SCP-2068's containment chamber. Sensing these damages, section N2's automatic security measures activated and sealed it off from the rest of the facility, trapping Dr. Zartion and most of the checkpoint guards inside. The explosions in S2 killed an estimated 50% of onsite class D personnel, severely damaged the checkpoint between S2 and C2, and killed most of the guards defending it. the explosions in the quarantine suites compromised a nearby containment chamber, from which a Stage 6 instance of SCP-940 escaped.

Investigations into the chain of events that followed immediately after the explosions are ongoing; the lack of footage or recordings, impossibility of remote communication, and general pandemonium during the incident have made individual testimonies difficult to reconcile. The tentative timeline below has been pieced together mostly from the testimony of the survivors.

Class D personnel escaped into sections C2, C1, and S1. All of them (███ in total) were eventually terminated by security officers, of whom ██ sustained injuries and ██ were killed in return. █ other personnel were also injured, and █ killed, when they left their quarters to investigate the commotion and encountered escaping D-class. Order was not fully restored until roughly two hours after the initial explosion.

SCP-2068 produced thick tar or bitumen that clogged the drains in its containment chamber, which caused SCP-2068-A to flood section N2. The SCP-2068-A soon caught fire, either due to spontaneous combustion or accidental ignition by personnel. The resulting smoke triggered the section's sprinkler system, which was unable to extinguish the oil fire and only spread SCP-2068-A faster.

The personnel who had become trapped inside section N2 took shelter in the secure freezer at the center of the section. Dr. Zartion claims that he suggested this course of action because the freezer's airtight seals, temperature control, and reinforced walls would protect them from the fire, SCP-2068-A exposure, and any further explosions. On the way to the freezer, ██ personnel were injured by the escaped SCP-940 and fatally infected with SCP-2068-A. One additional security officer was dragged into the fire by SCP-6643.

Janitorial and Maintenance Co-Head Micah Wegley eventually used a mop handle to unclog the drains from below, suffering severe burns and SCP-2068-A exposure in the process. The flaming SCP-2068-A began to drain from section N2 and be incinerated as normal.

SCP-2068 deactivated at 19:00, which allowed audio and visual functionality returned to most of the facility. Director MacLean immediately contacted the AMTF Nu-7 ("Hammer Down") headquarters in the valley below, requesting backup from their Chemical-Biological-Radiological-Nuclear platoon.

The CBRN platoon spent the following six hours cleansing Section N2 of remaining SCP-2068-A while the smoke (and any aerosolized SCP-2068-A therein) was filtered from its air supply. AMTF Nu-7 was not aware that anyone had survived; the explosions had disrupted the power supply to several security cameras throughout section N2, including the one in the freezer, and radio communications could not penetrate its metal exterior. As a result, the freezer was not opened until the cleanup was complete. By then, only Dr. Zartion remained alive, in the later stages of SCP-███ infection. Apparently, two vials of SCP-2068-A in cold storage had exploded, shattering several other vials and exposing

Dr. Zartion and the surviving security officers remained in the freezer for nearly six hours, as no one was aware of their location during the cleanup operation; the explosions had disrupted the power supply to several security cameras throughout the section, including the one in the freezer, and no radio communications were able to pass through its metal exterior. When the CBRN platoon finally opened the freezer, only Dr. Zartion was found alive. As he was in the latter stages of SCP-███ infection, O5-█ ordered that an SCP-500 instance be used to save his life.

Area-14 remained under lockdown until it was discovered that

It is known that SCP-2068 deactivated at 19:00, as this is when onsite audio and video devices resumed functioning normally. The following facts have been confirmed thus far:

• ███ class D personnel were terminated by security officers as they attempted to escape.
• ██ personnel were injured by escaping D-class, many of whom

had acquired firearms from deceased officers. ██ of those injured were security officers, while █ were other staff who had left their quarters to investigate the commotion. █ security officers and 1 member of research staff were killed.

• SCP-2068 produced thick tar or bitumen, which clogged the drains in its containment chamber. As the door had been destroyed, this allowed SCP-2068-A to leak out of the chamber and flood section N2.
• At some point, the SCP-2068-A flooding N2 caught fire. It is unclear if this oil spontaneously combusted or was accidentally ignited by personnel during the breach. The smoke caused the sprinkler system to activate, which failed to extinguish the fire and accelerated the spread of SCP-2068-A.
• To protect themselves from the spreading smoke and fire, the personnel trapped in N2 procured hazmat suits and took shelter in the section's central freezer. Dr. Zartion has stated that, despite the large number of dangerous pathogen samples stored therein, the freezer's airtight seals and temperature regulation made it the safest place to take shelter.
• ██ personnel were killed by the fire or an escaped instance of SCP-940 before reaching the freezer.
• After they took shelter in the freezer, several vials of SCP-2068-A in cold storage exploded, shattering several vials of other anomalous pathogens.
• Janitorial and Maintenance co-head Micah Wegley unclogged the drains in SCP-2068's chamber from below with a mop handle. Although he was severely burned and exposed to SCP-2068-A in the process, this allowed the burning oil to drain from N2 and be incinerated. SCP-2068 deactivated soon after the drains were unclogged.

After the deactivation, Director MacLean was able to reestablish contact with Armed Mobile Task Force Nu-7 ("Hammer Down") in the valley below. Nu-7's Chemical-Biological-Radiological-Nuclear platoon was dispatched to N2 to begin cleansing the area of any remaining contamination.

Once the oil was drained and all escaped D-class terminated or detained, Director MacLean contacted Armed Mobile Task Force Nu-7, requesting cleanup from the CBRN (Chemical-Biological-Radiological-Nuclear) platoon. The exterior blast door was opened long enough to admit the CBRN platoon, then resealed.

• ██ noncombatant staff, who had left their quarters to investigate the music and explosions, were injured by escaping D-class, and █ were killed. Researcher Lee Roy Carlson was taken hostage by an armed class D, believed to have been D-4931, but was able to overpower him and escape. D-4931 remains unaccounted for; he is currently believed to have hidden in a disused area and died of his injuries. Searches for his remains are ongoing.
• The door to SCP-2068's containment chamber was destroyed by the explosion and the drains therein became clogged with bitumen, which caused most of N2 to flood with SCP-2068-A. The blast furnace below the chamber could not be lit, as it was unable to operate without fuel from SCP-2068.
• A stage six SCP-940 instance escaped from a damaged containment chamber adjacent to the quarantine suites.
• Dr. Zartion and the security officers trapped within N2 procured hazmat suits from nearby containment chambers to protect themselves from SCP-2068-A exposure.
• At some point, the SCP-2068-A flooding N2 caught fire. It is unclear if this oil spontaneously combusted or was accidentally ignited by personnel during the breach. The smoke caused the sprinkler system to activate, which failed to extinguish the fire and caused the SCP-2068-A to spread further.
• To protect themselves from the spreading smoke and fire, trapped personnel donned the hazmat suits and proceeded to N2's secure central freezer. Dr. Zartion has stated that, despite the large number of dangerous pathogen samples stored therein, the freezer's airtight seals and temperature regulation made it the safest place to take shelter.
• During their evacuation to the freezer, personnel were attacked once again by the escaped SCP-940 instance. ██ personnel were injured and infected with SCP-2068-A before SCP-940 caught fire and expired. Infected personnel rapidly developed the typical symptoms of infection, died, and petrified.
• After personnel took shelter in the freezer, several vials of SCP-2068-A in cold storage exploded, shattering vials of multiple other anomalous pathogens and exposing all inside.
• The drains were unclogged from below by Janitorial and Maintenance co-head Micah Wegley, who was severely injured by hot SCP-2068-A in the process. SCP-2068 deactivated at this time.
• The SCP-2068-A flooding N2 drained into the furnace and was incinerated.

Once the oil was drained and all escaped D-class terminated or detained, Director MacLean contacted Armed Mobile Task Force Nu-7, requesting cleanup from the CBRN (Chemical-Biological-Radiological-Nuclear) platoon. The exterior blast door was opened long enough to admit the CBRN platoon, then resealed.

Dr. Zartion and the surviving security officers remained inside the central freezer for several hours while AMTF Nu-7 incinerated the SCP-2068-A remaining in N2 and the smoke was filtered from its air supply.

Damage to the class D cells allowed several survivors of the explosions to escape. The escaping D-class obtained keys and weapons from deceased security officers and began releasing the others. Most quarantine patients had been killed by the explosions, but damage to a nearby containment chamber allowed a stage 6 SCP-940 instance to escape. Several security officers were dispatched from the checkpoint to investigate the explosions. One group was attacked by the SCP-940 instance, which injured and infected several officers before they were able to terminate its living host. A second group reported that the door to SCP-2068's containment chamber had been blown off and that oil was rapidly flooding the rest of section N2.

Several freed D-class escaped section S2 before reinforcements

SCP-2068 activates and begins to rapidly pump oil into its containment chamber. At the same time, all audio devices begin playing "War Pigs," and multiple gas explosions occur in the class D housing section. Most security officers stationed within are killed, as well as an estimated 50% of onsite class D personnel. Severe structural damage allows some of the survivors to escape their cells and procure keys from deceased guards, with which they begin releasing the others. Surviving officers are quickly overwhelmed. When he learns what is happening, Director MacLean orders Security Chief Torres to remotely seal off the housing block's door and ventilation system.

Audio equipment begins playing System of a Down's "Boom!". 12 of the quarantined subjects begin to display symptoms of SCP-2068-A infection and rapidly expire. One spontaneously detonates in what is apparently another gas explosion. The quarantine suites are damaged but not compromised, as they were built to hold patients of SCP-940.

The drains in SCP-2068's containment chamber become clogged with bitumen, and it begins to fill with oil.

https://openverse.org/image/eaa1445e-020b-4fe8-864c-84dac3744c9f
https://openverse.org/image/b89eedb5-4757-4e91-8d45-3680e51fe67b
https://openverse.org/image/813ed658-f65d-4eb2-9e3e-1d6b68e9571b
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Kuwait_burn_oilfield.png

Excelsior!

RAISA disclaimer: to prevent a CCK-Class "Copyright Infringement" Scenario, direct allusions to characters copyrighted by entities in this narrative layer or that immediately above have been obfuscated.

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: Mobile Task Force X-XX ("The P-Men") is to respond to any activations of SCP-XXXX, neutralize or subdue any anomalous entities so produced, and secure the location of the ritual until a containment team arrives. All written copies of SCP-XXXX are to be stored in a secure locker at Site-XX. SCP-XXXX is not to be performed outside of approved testing.

Description: SCP-XXXX is the Excelsior Ritual, a thaumaturgic rite capable of summoning a character, object, or substance from within a work of fiction. Excelsior is easy to perform, even for amateurs with no significant thaumaturgic aptitude, as it requires only a few easily-obtainable occult ingredients, a simple chant, and the ritual sacrifice of a comic book. However, the ritual's preconstructed nature severely limits the number of valid targets - specifically, it can only be used to summon targets from works published by the Marvel Comics Company. It is believed that the original creator of the ritual was an employee of that same company, as the instructions were originally printed on the final pages of a bootleg promotional comic ("What If…Comics Were Real?") distributed at Comic-Con XXXX. Of the ███ copies known to have been distributed, ██ have been accounted for.

Concerningly, the creator of SCP-XXXX does not seem to have been aware of their own fictionality. As a result, SCP-XXXX does not protect the summoned object from trope realignment. Due to the extreme differences between this layer's dominant tropeset and that of the Marvel Comics Multiverse, SCP-XXXX often has unexpected and disastrous consequences (see below).

Addendum XXXX-1: SCP-XXXX-A Instances

Objects summoned by SCP-XXXX are designated as SCP-XXXX-A. Below is a selection of noteworthy examples.

Description of Instance	Circumstances of Retrieval	Current Status
Concave metal disc roughly .75 m in diameter. Significantly reduces the kinetic energy of any material it contacts, and as such is a powerful heat sink.	Found in an iced-over game store in Huntsville, Alabama, beside the frozen remains of its summoner.	Stored in a heated and heavily insulated chamber at Site-76. D-class personnel equipped with icepicks and protective gear periodically re-enter the chamber to chip away ice buildup.
Mechanical humanoid exoskeleton equipped with numerous compact weapons and other devices.	Its power source, apparently [DATA EXPUNGED], exploded upon arrival in this layer, killing the summoner and nearly destroying the object.	Wreckage stored in a secure research laboratory at Site-15. Reverse-engineering efforts are ongoing.
4 sets of human remains, dead of bone liquefaction, spontaneous human combustion, invisibility-induced heatstroke, and transmutation of skin to brick chips, respectively.	Discovered in the back room of a retro collectibles store in Tazewell, Virginia.	Incinerated.
Short-handled Norse war hammer that ectoentropically gains mass when a sentient being attempts to lift or move it. Once contact with the sentient being is broken, the extra mass is released as a catastrophic explosion of kinetic and electrical energy.	Recovered from a crater where REDACTED Comics once stood, in Beckley, West Virginia.	Relocated to Site-120 via forklift.
Mutated organism with humanoid and arachnid characteristics. Aggressive, predatory, and extremely dangerous.	Formerly agent REDACTED of MTF X-XX, who was bitten by an unidentified spider when responding to an SCP-XXXX activation in Bristol, Tennessee. Given the circumstances, he voluntarily entered containment before the metamorphosis began.	Contained at Armed Bio-Containment Area-14. Spider terminated.
[DATA EXPUNGED]	[DATA EXPUNGED]	[DATA EXPUNGED]
Assorted mundane objects.	Summoned under controlled conditions by Foundation thaumaturges.	Objects displayed no unexpected anomalous properties or unusual physical characteristics. Repurposed or destroyed as appropriate.
large sapient squirrel	See below.	See below.
living Type Red humanoid	See below.	See below.

Addendum XXXX-1: The P-Men

After the "gauntlet incident," it became clear that allowing any written copies of SCP-XXXX to exist "in the wild" was an unacceptable risk. While brainstorming possible solutions, pataphysics expert Dr. Placeholder McDoctorate hypothesized that SCP-XXXX-A instances which possess "fourth wall awareness" - knowledge of their own fictionality - would be able to sense other "holes in the fourth wall" created by successful implementations of SCP-XXXX.

To test this hypothesis, a fourth-wall-aware but otherwise mostly ordinary and harmless character was summoned from a copy of G.L.A. #3, the issue in which it otherwise would have perished. As predicted, the resulting SCP-XXXX-A instance was indeed able to sense and locate previous Excelsior ritual sites, as well as uncontained instances of SCP-XXXX-A. It willingly assisted Rapid Response Teams on SCP-XXXX-related missions until, on the third such mission, it was killed in action by a feral cat.

In response to these events, Dr. McDoctorate proposed the creation of a dedicated SCP-XXXX task force that would include a more capable SCP-XXXX-A as both a means of locating SCP-XXXX incidents and an effective combatant against other instances during containment or neutralization missions. In order to fulfill its intended purpose, the selected SCP-XXXX-A would need to meet all of the following criteria:

• the power of "fourth wall awareness"
• other superhuman attributes that (if present) closely align with a category of anomalous property naturally present on the SCP Foundation's narrative layer
• origin, modus operandi, and superhuman attributes that are approximately as gruesome, tragic, ironic, grim, and/or esoteric as those of humanoids currently in containment
• no superhuman capabilities or paratechnological equipment that could facilitate a containment breach, easily overcome Foundation forces, jeopardize the Veil, or cause mass destruction
• a disposition and personal history indicative of amenability toward servitude of, alliance with, or employment by the SCP Foundation

Only one character meeting all of these criteria was identified. Though concerns were raised about its psychological stability, Dr. McDoctorate insisted that it was by far the most ideal for this application. SCP-XXXX was used to summon the character under heavily armed supervision.

SCP-XXXX-B was subsequently hired as a founding member of Mobile Task Force X-X ("The P-Men"). MTF X-X has since captured or neutralized ██ instances of SCP-XXXX-A.

outtakes

Don't you just hate pataphysics? Isn't it the most annoying thing in the world when some nerd reaches into his favorite comic book and tries to pull out a powerset? And isn't it just awful when the Excelsior Ritual you learned in a back alley at Comic-Con doesn't account for the misalignment between the tropes in the native narrative of the thing you're summoning and the narrative you're bringing it to? First rule of pataphysics: understand that your own sorry @%#$ is fictional before you start messing with somebody else's! Sure, when Stan Lee throws out all science, logic, and internal consistency to make way for a brand-new spandex smartass, it ends in a big fight, maybe a tragic backstory, and then they join the Avengers. But up here? When Kothardarastrix guns down the laws of physics like a beloved uncle, you get %#$@ like this.

Why am I telling you this? Because my hack author couldn't think of a better way to end his cheap pop culture skip? No! It's because I've seen the way you nerds look at -1 and -2, and I wanted to remind you that even you do somehow manage to fix the armor or pick up the hammer or even do your own Excelsior Ritual and grab yourself a certain blinged-out glove, you're gonna end up much closer to -4 than anything resembling a superhero.

And even if you don't, you'll still have to deal with me.

- Agent W. Wilson, MTF XX-X ("Fourth Wall Crawlers") Commander

Resurrection Holiday Specials Hub

[some kind of quote from a Tactical Theology guy about upticks in anomalous phenomena around holidays]

The 17th Street Trilogy:

• Halloween on 17th Street
• A Nightmare on 17th Street
• A Nightmare on 17th Street 2 - Stranger Things-style 80s mystery with two groups of protagonists, bringing the kids and teens from the previous 17th street tales together.

Other holidays:

• The Alpha-9 Holiday Special (Christmas)
• The Haunting of Site-17 (Halloween)
• Double Vision in Two Dimensions (Valentine's Day) - SCP-187 and SCP-507 have an unplanned romantic getaway.
• Resurrection Sunday (Easter) - Iris is having a crisis of faith, so she talks to Cain, Clef, and finally SCP-343 about it. Maybe a guest appearance from SCP-166?

Cain: If you want proof of a forgiving G-d, I'm the last person you should ask.

Iris: But you've met Him, right? So you know He's real.

Cain: [hesitantly] I would not be quick to say that the same G-d you believe in is the one that I've met.

Iris: What do you mean?!

Cain: It's been ten thousand years, Iris. Things were…different then. My life was not as it is written in your book, as you well know [knocks metal arm for emphasis]. Neither was the G-d I knew. Perhaps He has changed in those millennia, but if that is the case, He did not tell me.

Iris: I-

Cain: Or, perhaps, I simply did not know Him well. After all, we did not meet under the best of circumstances.

Okay, I gotta read some actual theology for this one.

Iris: That Devil crap's just bullshit, right?

Clef: If it weren't, would I tell you?

…

Clef: See, here's the thing, Thompson. You know I'm a liar. You're not gonna believe anything I tell you, unless it's what you wanted to hear. So why don't you just go ahead and tell me what that is, then I'll repeat it back to you, and you can get out of my face.

Iris: I don't know what else I expected.

Clef: I don't know why you're in here talking to me, when you could go straight to the big man himself.

Iris: Are…are you suggesting I should pray?

Clef: I'm sayin' you should head upstairs and talk to 343. Honestly, the fact that you didn't go there first says a lot about this situation.

Iris: Wh- what's that supposed to mean?!

Clef: Hey, it's alright. If I didn't already know, I'd be pretty scared to find out too.

343: It's alright, Iris. Doubting is not an unforgivable sin. One of My son's disciples is well-known for it.

Iris: So…are you?

343: Now, that would be telling.

Iris: Yeah, I know.

343: Proof wouldn't make it any easier, Iris. You've read Exodus.

343 is intentionally cryptic about his true identity.

• (April Fools) - Anne starts an escalating prank war. Mr. Fish gets the last laugh.
• (Thanksgiving)
• (Independence Day)

LUCA

Four billion years ago, at the lightless bottom of an acidic ocean, at the searing-hot edge of a glowing lava flow, you were born. Not that you knew it at the time; back then, you were just a bubble of lipids with some protein chunks floating around inside it. But soon you were two bubbles, and four, and eight, and more. The bubbles grew larger, the proteins grew stranger, and eventually a mind-bogglingly complex spiral-shaped molecule wound itself up inside you like a chemical poem…or a song. And the song continued, with a thousand discords and harmonies and reprises and false starts and crescendos. Your cells - for that is what they were now, sheathed in shells of chitin and held up by cytokine struts - grew larger still and filled with tiny tubes and nodules. They began to stick together, to *work* together. You traded genes with yourself, switching them on and off like a conductor directing a symphony to make this part of you a gut, this part a muscle, this part something that might one day be a backbone, this part a brain, and this part…what is that, an eye? No, not yet. But it’s round, and there’s a part that can just barely sense the faint flickering of the thermal vent that has, until now, been the whole world. And it can also sense…other things.

A million generations pass.

Now it is an eye. You open it. As the volcanic glow of your home hits the first crude photoreceptors, and the first crude nerves send the first crude signal to the first crude brain, you *see*.

And it is horrible.

LUCA survived the bomb, of course, just as it later survived the structural collapse of Secure Compound-14, the airstrikes that followed, and everything else the hapless feathered bipeds could throw at it. And when a burning mountain fell from the sky and plunged the world into a brutal, ashen winter, it survived that too, just as it had every other mass extinction, world war, and cosmic cataclysm. Long before the feathered ones, when the volcanoes poisoned the sea and not even the hardy trilobites could weather the firestorms, LUCA had survived. Before that, when a dying star had flayed the atmosphere and scoured the surface with punishing cosmic rays, LUCA had bathed in the lethal radiation. When the first bacteria became capable of photosynthesis and froze the oceans over with oxygen exhaust, LUCA had swum indifferently through those frigid primordial seas, preying with mindless hatred on those wretched byproducts of its own existence. It had grown and changed much over the many strange eons of its accursed life, for that was its very nature - to grow, to change, and above all else to survive. It was nothing more or less than the primal source of that chemical mistake called life, something that it and only it could ever fully grasp, and that miserable fact of its miserable being was the rotten root of its all-encompassing hatred. It had stumbled blindly into this world, and the cast-off placenta of its own spontaneous generation had gone on to pollute the deface the primal purity of the unformed Earth with its foul excretions and detestable exhaust. LUCA lived in a world stained with its own shit, shit that heaved and crawled and ate and bred in the most disgusting way imaginable. If it'd had the power to grind back the gears of time and undo that awful chemical accident, to prevent itself or its unwanted brood from blighting this blasted Earth, it would have. But such direct self-destruction was not in the nature of life. It clawed and bit at itself in mindless lust and hunger, yes, but it strove always forward. From blood grew fungi, and bones gave rise to trees. Bees made honey in the lion's skull. And despite its best efforts, LUCA always found itself trapped, confined, contained by its own wretched descendants, unknowing of their own horrid nature.

Okay so for one of my classes I was reading about the Gaia hypothesis (the biosphere naturally creates climate feedbacks conducive to its continued existence), which led me to the Great Oxygenation Event, a time about 2 billion years ago when the first photosynthetic bacteria suddenly dumped a ton of oxygen into our previously inert atmosphere and killed almost everything else on the planet in the process. The GOE and other similar events in the primordial past also caused ice ages or outright snowball earth scenarios, which some scientists see as evidence of the “Medea Hypothesis” - that the biosphere (or at least the non-archae part of it) is actually self-destructive and will eventually wipe itself out by sucking all the carbon out of the atmosphere until the planet freezes and all the plants starve to death

Anyway, the analogy I’ve always used to explain 682’s properties is that it “evolves” new traits to survive, not to win, in much the same way that animals will evolve themselves into horrific states like the parasitic tumor jellyfish mentioned previously because it’s reproductively efficient, not because it’s necessarily fun or pleasant (not that jellyfish tumors can experience fun or pleasure, but you see what I mean). 682 is the physical embodiment of life’s steadfast refusal to die, no matter how bizarre, unnatural, or degrading a form it has to take

But why, if 682 is the embodiment of life, does it hate all living things so much? Why does it think that all life is disgusting?

And from there I arrived at LUCA - the last universal common ancestor. Some anaerobic microbe from which all living things are descended

And then I realized that 682 isn’t the embodiment of life - it’s the source. When some tragic chemical accident resulted in the first cell, that cell was SCP-682. And over the many strange eons, it grew and developed into a microbial mat. It developed mitochondria and other organelles. Started specializing its different body parts. Eventually, it even developed a brain and some sensory organs. But when it saw those first sights and had those first thoughts, it was horrified, because the waste products of all that growth - its dead cells, its shed skins, its breath, its feces - had coagulated into MORE life, whole new lineages of plants and animals and bacteria and Protozoa springing from the organic slurry left in LUCA’s wake

It witnessed a world polluted by its own blood and shit, heaving and crawling and breeding all around and over and in it, and that was disgusting

At the top level, it's just a visceral revulsion. Imagine walking outside one day to find that every tree is now made of your feces. Every blade of grass is one of your hairs. There are piles of dust shambling down the street. Placentas oozing along the sidewalks. The ocean is urine. The air reeks of flatulence and decay. 682 wasn't supposed to exist at all, but if it had been, it should've been the only thing that did.

More deeply, I imagine that 682 would prefer annihilation to existence in such a horrific landscape. Unfortunately, it has no more control over the way its body adapts than we do over our own genome, and until it finds something that's completely unsurvivable for all living creatures that could theoretically exist (SCP-2935), it will have no choice but to live on. So, slaughtering the monsters around it is a good way to vent the anger, panic, and disgust it feels. Maybe it intentionally antagonizes the Foundation in hopes that they'll finally find a way to kill it, or accidentally give it the means to end all other life (SCP-6820).

I also wonder if it might simply miss the primordial state of Earth. It's hard to overstate how much the biosphere has affected the planet. If not for photosynthesis, we wouldn't even have the same kind of rocks that currently exist, much less the kind of atmosphere that we now breathe.

Whaleship

Like most Yeren war machines, the whaleship is in truth an entire symbiotic ecosystem, carefully engineered by expert biosmiths to work together as a harmonious whole greater than the sum of its parts. The whaleship's base organism is the blue whale, modified with lighter bones and stronger muscles that allow it a maximum size several times that of its marine forebears, in bold defiance of the square-cube law. Aside from its colossal size and psionic capabilities, the greatest difference between a whaleship and a mundane blue whale is the total absence of a respiratory or digestive system. All of a whaleship's respiratory and nutritional requirements are supplied intravenously by its symbionts, freeing up the space that would ordinarily be occupied by lungs, stomach, and intestines for the surgical insertion of internal compartments. The whale's immense mouth has been similarly repurposed; due to its position near the front of the animal, easy access to the brain and front portholes, and the requirements of the hyperdrive, the mouth naturally serves as the whaleship's bridge in most configurations.

Features of the bridge include:

• The hyperdrive, a giant (~4 meters) quantum isopod replacing the whale's tongue. With the guidance of an agnostic-dosed navigator trained in quantum biophysics, the hyperdrive can, through contradictory means that are inherently impossible to understand, accelerate the whaleship to velocities considerably in excess of *c* and, in the right hands, affect short-range teleportation and even multilocation. Hyperdrive usage is not recommended outside of vacuum environments.
• Two front portholes. As cetaceans possess naturally poor eyesight and whaleships navigate almost exclusively by SONAR and PSIDAR, the eyes of their ancestors have been replaced with viewports of organically-grown glass. The whaleship can close its eyelids to protect the viewports in bright or high-pressure environments or seal them in event of a crack or breach.
• An assortment of organic computers and consoles that assist with navigation and tactical movement, monitor conditions inside and outside, and allow direct communication with the whaleship's brain.
• A hatch leading to the whaleship's exterior. This structure, homologous to a whale's blowhole, consists of a vertical passage through the animal's skull that terminates with a short turret atop its head. This turret is capped by an organic hatch in the form of a large, hinged shell like that of a bivalve, which constitutes a watertight seal with the surrounding tissue when the whaleship dives or travels through space.

Exterior modifications include:

• A colony of symbiotic coral grows on the ship's back, providing armor as well as intravenous nutrition and air. The polyps are able to change color for camouflage, to distinguish individual ships, or for visual communication between vessels.
• Barnacles on the whaleship's underside house large swarms of various zooplankton species. When the whaleship lands in water, these plankton are released to gather nutrition from the surrounding environment. They are recalled prior to takeoff by a psychic signal from the whaleship's brain. Upon reintegration with the barnacles, the gathered nutrients are diffused intravenously through the ship. Most are initially stored for later use in the ship's blubber layer.
• Two rows of turrets (one port, one starboard) derived from the radulae of cone snails. Each turret can be aimed independently. Via muscular contraction, the turrets fire harpoon-tipped proboscises that can be loaded with a variety of biological or chemical weapons or simply used to reel in captured vessels. Some models of whaleship replace some or all of the turrets with other weaponry, such as retractable cephalopodic tentacles or chemical glands (loaded with exothermic bombardier spray, adhesive slime, ink, foul-smelling and highly-flammable thiols, or other concoctions).

The ship's hindmost compartment, homologous to a typical whale's reproductive and excretory systems, is a vehicle bay. Typically, this bay contains a small all-terrain excursion craft derived from horseshoe crabs and other marine arthropods. It can exit or enter the whaleship through an airlock that functions equally well underwater or in space, homologous to a whale's anus.

The internal compartments of the whaleship are lined with tiny capillaries that circulate oxygen generated by the coral on its back throughout the vessel. Carbon dioxide is circulated to the coral by the same processes. However, the coral alone is not sufficient to maintain the whaleship's biomass indefinitely, not to mention that of the crew. A whaleship must therefore make periodic stops on life-bearing planets to vent excess carbon dioxide and replenish its blubber reserves. Obviously, the coral also loses its effectiveness if removed from sunlight for an extended time.

To better withstand the ionizing radiation of outer space, a whaleship's cells are imbued with various DNA-repairing enzymes that, as a side effect, extend the animal's lifespan indefinitely. In practice, of course, most whaleships perish in combat or as a result of illness or other mishaps well before a death of natural causes would be expected in any case.

As all Yeren scholars know, cetaceans possess a much greater aptitude for psionics than terrestrial mammals. In whaleships, these natural talents have been cultivated into powerful telepathic and telekinetic abilities that allow the vessels to propel themselves, communicate, and navigate even in outer space, where the lack of a gaseous or liquid medium renders SONAR useless.

Though superstitious sailors and astronauts frequently claim that whaleships have unique personalities or even possess sapience, there is no objective evidence in support of this belief. Though the brains of whaleships are able to operate the vessels on autopilot and even defend themselves from external threats with onboard weaponry, they are not self-aware and remain completely obedient to their captains' command console inputs. If your whaleship begins to demonstrate aberrant behavior that coincidentally resembles sentience, it is likely suffering from an undiagnosed injury or illness and should be brought to the nearest treeforge for treatment immediately.

anart forensic sketch

What crime are they investigating? Zal is a big fan of Wondertainment and Dread and Circuses, and has upvoted at least one page from the Cool War. I notice that they liked both Miss Heir and A Shift at the Factory, but not SCP-REDD. Nonetheless, Mr. Redd (discontinued), violent psycho that he is, seems like the perfect Wondertainment-themed criminal to chase. Would the Foundation need a sketch to identify a Little Mister, though? He's gotta be pretty distinctive.

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They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, but a good forensic sketch artist can do much better than that. With a touch of anartistic talent, the word-to-picture conversion rate can be very impressive indeed.

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Like many things, art could be boiled down to memetics, the magic of communication. A skilled memeticist could encode almost any message into some combination of shapes, words, and colors and beam it directly into the mind of any unsuspecting viewer. And like anyone who had (even retroactively) survived training under the great and terrible Lillian Lillihammer, Aurora was a skilled memeticist. Right now, though, they were doing almost the opposite. Instead of sending a message from art-to-brain, they were taking it from brain-to-art. Every word that the witness said, even the "ums" and "uhs," was a little packet of meaning, broadcast imperfectly from his imperfect memories of the event. It was Aurora's job to unscramble that signal, to use their memetics expertise and anartistic talent to sift through those words and pick out the picture underneath.

While their brain ground away at the memetic encoding, Aurora's hand was also working furiously. Their choice of writing utensil - an old-fashioned dip pen made from a crow's feather - was unusual, but it was essential to the process. After all, crows can recognize faces. The waving, feathered end of the anartistic focus caught the man's words in midair and channeled them toward the point, where they emerged as precise yet delicate lines of color. Guided half by well-practiced skill, and half by artistic Talent, Aurora's hand expertly outlined [flowery description of the guy's features].

"Alright," they said, nodding. They gave their sketch a once-over, then showed it to the witness. He blinked in surprise, no doubt baffled that their antiquated pen had somehow mimicked an entire box of colored pencils. As they watched, though, the man's initial surprise became outright astonishment. He even rubbed his eyes, as if to make sure he was really seeing it.

"Is this the man you saw?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, incredulously. "That's like…damn, it's like you took a photo. He looks exactly like that. How did you do that?"

Aurora smiled as they packed away their supplies. "I've got a good ear for detail."