Magnadeus

this CSS is here because i spent 8 hours on it so i'm going to put it wherever i can get away with it

SCP DRAFTS

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Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Safe/Euclid/Keter (indicate which class)

Special Containment Procedures: [Paragraphs explaining the procedures]

Description: [Paragraphs explaining the description]

Addendum: [Optional additional paragraphs]

Awaiting D-Classification (separate from the rest of the drafts because i ain't about them nested tabs)

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castle

The highest floor of SCP-XXXX. Click to enlarge.

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class:

Special Containment Procedures:

Description: SCP-XXXX is an abandoned prison, formerly used for the holding of D-Class personnel. Despite inter-site Foundation records indicating that the area of SCP-XXXX is currently being used as Site-44, a humanoid containment site, there exists conflicting documentation about the nature of this Site (see Addendum XXXX-1). Much of the building shows signs of wear, coinciding with its disuse in late 1958.

Four of the five floors of SCP-XXXX are uninhabited, and exhibit no anomalous properties. The bottom floor of SCP-XXXX is similar to the above floors, with the exception of all cells bearing the label "D-00001." These cells are inhabited by several humanoids, some of which are anomalous, labeled SCP-XXXX-1 to SCP-XXXX-13.

SCP-XXXX-1 through -10 are the designations for the 10 non-anomalous humanoids residing within SCP-XXXX. All such instances refuse to communicate specific details about their past, noting only their induction into the Foundation as D-Class personnel.

During their incarceration, instances -1 through -10 have formed a rudimentary Mobile

TALES

The country-side villa was a bright, yet sultry place of residence for the men of Calton's Runners. The view was splendid, and the plain fields and trees dotted around as far as the eye could see, only interrupted by the lone dirt road leading into the compound. The pointman stood by the window, looking out at the expanse. For the time being, he was contemplating a defense plan for their base. One of the only things he could think about to distract himself from the long periods of ennui that plagued his jobless hours. One could call it coincidence that the phone rang just then, but with the constant desire for more work, it would have been nigh impossible for the phone to ring at an inopportune time.


//Hiiiiiighway to the danger zone!

I'll take you riiiiiiding into the danger zone!//

"Markus! Get the phone!".

Sean's instincts were only slightly higher than his propensity for yelling, but to be fair, that song was like a dog whistle. We hadn't seen some action for a long time. The prospect of getting off our asses and firing rounds was enough to have everyone in the area on edge; not enough so to get Sean to go answer the phone, but I supposed now was the time to pick my battles. Bigger ones would be coming my way soon.

"Yeah, I got it." The phone calls were much more my forte than his, in any case.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" the voice on the other side asked.

"This is Carlton's Athletics, how may I help you?" I always thought the "Carlton's Athletics" front was a real bore. We didn't even have a website; no one would call our number on accident.

"Uhh, yes, um, do you have any services available?"

"We've got training programs, athletic equipment, sporting goods, you name it. What are you looking for?"

"Yeah. I'm looking for something good, a real hit." A pause. That was the keyword. I grabbed a pen and clipboard from the nearby table and started to collect some information.

"When and where?"

"In the warehouse on the corner of Sixth and Alameda, downtown. In two hours."

"You know you're not giving us much of a timeframe, right? If we're rushed we might not do a goo-"

"Yeah, yeah. That's fine."

"Alright then-" I wrote the intel on a slip of paper. "Who's the target?"

"I can't give you much details."

My response could only be described as an aural double-take. "I'm sorry, but if you can't give us any details we can't do a very good job of making sure we're getting the right guy. Ya understand?"

"Yeah. Well, I can tell you one thing. It's a man in a yellow hat."

"Wait, a-" I looked at the phone as if it had just slapped me. "A man. In a yellow hat."

"Yes, that's what I said."

"Like, uh… like the cart-"

"Curious George, yes, I'm familiar."

I wasn't sure if it was a joke or not. But work had been slow lately and frankly, I would take any work over sitting in the jacuzzi.

"What's the payment?"

"Fifty thousand dollars, in incrementing serial numbers, paid to any bank account anywhere, or drop-off. We mean business."

"I can see that. Let me tell you the contact information."

I finished up the conversation with our new client, whose documented name was Vic Danton, and gave the info to Sean. Head of Delta Team, and a very capable crackshot and pointman. He scrutinized the intel sheet before handing it back to me.


mission stuff


"How would you describe your encounter with the, uh…"

Victor re-examined the file clutched in his fingers. "The anomaly?"

For all the memories that then flooded Martin's mind, words had unfortunately failed him; for a good few seconds, at least. Time enough that he could hear the soft clicking of a typewriter in another room, almost certainly hammering out the phrase "Martin pauses." At the very least, the noise had provided slight relief from the horrific recollections that befell him. He figured he may as well break the silence, however, and began his account.

"Well, I… I was on the field, just doing my job. My- uh… the job… we had to go deal with-"

"I'm familiar with the terms, yes."

"… okay, so, um… the warehouse. I was on, uh, I was there. We…we all were. It was a simple job, take care of one guy, right? That's what we thought, just one goddamn-"

"Please refrain from discussing extraneous matters." Victor wasn't even looking at Martin now, instead nervously glancing at the one-way glass on his right. Martin had no idea why he was doing this, considering his

"I, uhh…what the hell do you want from me, then? He was a fucking monster. Built like a god damn tank, seven feet tall, and… the fucking bloodlust, you could see it in his eyes, none of our bullets could-"

"Perfect! You know what, I would love to continue talking about the, uh, the anomaly, but I think we have all the information we need." Victor got up, and moved towards the door. Martin sat deadly still.

As soon as he put his hand on the doorknob, however, he had remembered that there was still work to do. Sighing, he returned to his seat, noting that Martin was still, well, still. "By the way, we will be required to dose you with Chemical 108 following this interview."

"… what? What the hell is that?"

"It's an amne… amnest-, uh…"

Victor paused for a good few seconds. Time enough that Victor could hear the soft clicking of a typewriter in another room before he shot another violent glare at the one-way glass and mouthed at it to quit the goddamn noise. "It's an amnesiac compound, for the erasure of memories."

"Wait, you can do that?"

"Yes, we can. In many cases to aid in the treatment of traumatic memories. A medical professional will be here soon to administer the compound." With that, Victor got up from his chair, left to the door, mentally reviewed the interviewing procedure in his head, mentally reviewed the interviewing procedure in his head again, and then left.

Waiting for him on the other side was stenographer, report writer, and assistant to Victor, Frederick Masley. "Alright, Vic, I can edit the document all day and night, but there is no way in hell I am getting away with changing an interview log. It's bad enough that we had to get outside help, but this? We'll have the higher-ups on our asses so fast-"

"Listen. Buddy. Here's a little gift from me. Use it well." Victor produce a small, yet surprisingly weighty black highlighter, and threw it for Frederick, who followed Victor's expectations in failing to even touch it. By the time Frederick had made his way to the highlighter, which had rolled quite a ways away, Victor had already left the vicinity.

"Fuckin' documents are digital anyways…"

Interview with Witness-03.

DANTON: How would you describe your encounter with the, uh… the anomaly?

(Martin pauses.)

WITNESS: Well, I… I was on the field, just doing my ███. My- uh… ███ ███… we had to go ████ ████-

DANTON: I'm familiar with the terms, yes.

WITNESS: … okay, so, um… the warehouse. I was ██, uh, I was there. We…we all were. It was a ██████ ███, ████ ████ ██ ███ ███, █████? That's what we thought, ████ ███ goddamn-

DANTON: Please refrain from discussing extraneous matters.

WITNESS: I, uhh…what the hell do you want from me, then? He was a fucking monster. Built like a god damn tank, seven feet tall, and… the fucking bloodlust, you could see it in his eyes, none of our ███████ could-

DANTON: Perfect. You know what, I would love to continue talking about the, uh, the anomaly, but I think we have all the information we need. By the way, we will be required to dose you with Chemical 108 following this interview.

WITNESS: … what? What the hell is that?

DANTON: It's an ████… ██████, ██… It's an amnes██c compound, for the erasure of memories.

WITNESS: Wait, you can do that?

DANTON: Yes, we can. In many cases to aid in the treatment of traumatic memories. A medical professional will be here soon to administer the compound.