Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: At present, there is no known way to have continued containment of SCP-XXXX. As such, Containment Procedures are focused on the acquisition of SCP-XXXX upon its appearance and the suppression of sightings. Particular attention is to be paid to morgues. If a SCP-XXXX manifestation is confirmed, any affected persons are to be applied amnesiacs, as judged appropriate based on the circumstances.
SCP-XXXX is to be located as quickly as possible in the region once its manifestation is confirmed. Manifestation events typically occur in areas frequented by Felis cattus, and any form of surveillance is to be . Once SCP-XXXX is obtained, it is to be taken to the nearest holding area for further investigation.
In the event of a sighting of SCP-XXXX-1, unmanned surveillance is to track SCP-XXXX-1 back to SCP-XXXX, at which time it is to be obtained per standard procedures.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a food cart of unknown make and model. SCP-XXXX exudes a memetic effect on all viewers, making the food cart look within standards for the area
Upon manifestation, recently deceased human corpses in a 72 mile radius around the manifestation area will begin to exhibit symptoms that their flesh is being removed. The most recently deceased are targeted first, with all flesh
Upon the approach of a specimen of Felis cattus to SCP-XXXX, its top hatch will open and produce the human meat. Aside from how it was obtained, this meat is non-anomalous and has been observed to decay at expected rates.
If no cats approach SCP-XXXX within a 3 day period, SCP-XXXX-1 has been observed to manifest. In recorded sightings, SCP-XXXX-1 manifestation events are observed to happen 24% of the time. SCP-XXXX-1 resembles a malnourished black domestic (breed?) cat. A significant wound runs through its tail, bisecting it to halfway. SCP-XXXX-1 is not physical. Once manifested, SCP-XXXX-1 will seek out the nearest cat it can before leading it back to SCP-XXXX
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: All copies of works detailing the methods behind SCP-XXXX are to be obtained by any means necessary. Foundation searchbot I/O MAGNUS is to search for related terms such as 'War Chef' and the content analysed. Reports of attempted burglaries to eateries should be investigated.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a form of anomalous martial arts focusing around the use of common kitchen utensils to defend the artist and potentially other bystanders. A mainly defensive form in nature, SCP-XXXX is mainly focused around a series of rituals that allow the user to form a bond with the items in question. Following successful performance of these rituals, a series of kinetoglyphic movements allow the implements to perform beyond their physical limitations.
Little is known of the origin of SCP-XXXX, as the Foundation has only obtained a single source on this, the book titled "The Arts of Cooking and War". Significant portions of this book appear to have been embellished by its author, who claims the art to date back to medieval era China. The specific philosophy behind many of the rituals draw from beliefs into Shintoism relating to the spirit of items, which contradicts its apparent origin.
Recovery Log:
restraunt attacked by someone, chef defends, media happens, foundation investigate because of reports of customers, find out about book, amnecitise him to the 9s
Testing Log:
serving tray: blocks bullets
knife: Can cut through a gun barrel
rolling pin: ridiculous force
fork: specifically somehow traps blades under it to the point they're being dragged within, also where it touches is weakened to the point just twisting the fork causes it to snap
THE WAR CHEF AND THE PEACH OF HEAVEN
A Scrapped Jamcon 2019 entry by Mecheon
Agent Stevens looked out the rain-splattered window of his car as the clock slowly ticked onward. He was the newest member of a branch of Mobile Task Force Alpha-4 working on a new case. It was their main job to track, intercept and secure anomalous objects sent through the postal system, but this time, they were doing out of their normal procedure. Several encoded transmissions had been sent
Normally, the Foundation would have left something this basic to the UIU, but, well, the director had a hunch. And the last time he had a hunch, the Foundation managed to get their hands on an item so above his pay grade, he'd pretty sure he'd end up getting drip-fed amnesiacs just for making rumours about it. So here he sat, connected by a scratchy, secure signal to his fellow agents as time and water dripped on by. Absent minded, Stevens accidentally dropped his phone to the floor of the car. He swore under his breath, and leaned down to grab it.
It was this moment that saved his life. Too focused on trying to get his phone back, he missed the symbols that flashed by. He missed the horrible wrenching as the pasts of his team mates were ripped from history, before being hastily stitched with blood and sinew back into place. He missed an entire history 5 people had together with one another being erased and turned into naught.
And when Agent Stevens looked up, the finality of this changed timeline dawned on him, and he realised just how alone he suddenly was. Desperately, he tried to contact the Foundation, aware something had gone terrible wrong that he couldn't tell, but before he got through, the car door opened and he was thrown out into the street, the phone clattering off into an unused corner. He struggled to stand, to draw his pistol to defend himself, but this attempt was met with a harsh fist from a man that, in a world that no longer was, he had once called friend.
(exciting battle scene goes here)
The moment the coffee entered his mouth, Agent Stevens felt energy flow through him. He'd had the alleged coffee in the lunchroom back at the Site, which one could taste the years of a re-used filter in. He'd had coffee from every store under the map, having overworked himself to the point of exhaustion more than once to try and get this job. This was none of those things. This was as if the pure essence of coffee itself had been delivered to him and was now flowing through his veins. All the weariness and exhaustion from the night before left him in a speed quick enough he was sure this should be reported to the Foundation. The Chef caught the widening of his eyes and smirked a mischievous smirk, the sort that spoke to this woman's desire to see people
"From Omar's very own coffee bush, that stuff! Course, this is the last I got" she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. It was a rough, course voice that had been hardened through years of conflicts, but there was still a hint of kindness buried in it. "Don't think they'd be using anything like that in your job if what I heard
Stevens nearly choked. How long had he been out? "Uh, look, if we can just…. Talk to my commanding officer-" The Chef interrupted him with a loud, raucous laugh. "Mate, you think I'm dumb? I haven't survived as long as I have
The woman stood, tall and proud. Her weather-beaten features revealed a mass of freckles along her face and arms, . "I'm Cheryl. The War Chef"
The title of the War Chef, as is known to our readers, is one thought long lost, only kept by those who Observe. Years before, a much younger Cheryl, even then skilled in the arts of cooking and conflict, unknowingly climbed their very mountain with someone she had thought a friend. Cheryl sought to challenge herself, to leave no boundary unexplored. But she was betrayed by Lucian Malfurious, who would later take upon the title of King of All Chefs. He had heard rumours of an ancient race, their lives destroyed amid an ancient flowering night, and tried to claim one of them for power, glory, and to taste their flesh. But Cheryl chose instead to stand against this man, with the last of her strength on that mountain, delivering a blow that rent a scar across his face. Her energy gone however, Cheryl fell, believing she would fade and die upon that mountain.
It would not be so. The Observers, as was their nature, had seen what occurred on this most sacred of mountains. The selfless action of Cheryl in protecting one of the Children of the Night, even if she knew not their history or what befell them. They offered her a chance to join them under an eternal sky, but she refused. She now understood there was evil in the world she had to fight, and people, no matter if they were human or something else, needed a hero to look up to. The Observers understood, but granted her a parting gift: Knowledge of a martial art, lost in the innumerable twists of time. Thus, Cheryl was no more, and the War Chef was born
(travel goes here)
Standing behind the bloodstained corpse was a figure, both intangible and worryingly present at once. Its very presence seemed to defy those looking upon it, their minds searching for something, anything else to focus on than the royal grandeur before them. The only thing that offered respite from the sheer unworldly malice were the being's eyes, a deep black-red, seeming glistening as hungrily as the blood splattered across the desk. The eyes fixed on Cheryl and Agent Stevens in turn, seemingly mocking each. "Well" a sound hissed out, seemingly coming from the heads of the enraptured audience and the figure all at once, "You two seem to know what this is, but not the full capability of its power. Oh, had we known this one peach contained all we needed to return our empire to its heights. You two should consider yourselves lucky, as you shall be the first to bare witness to the resurrection of the Daevite Empire!"
CONTINUED NEXT TIME IN: THE WAR CHEF AGAINST THE DAEVIC GUSTOMANCERS!
—
Chaz Ambrose looked up from the small book at the consumingly eager smile on the woman in front of him.
"…. I asked for a resume not…. Not whatever this is" Chaz finally managed to say, still dumbfounded
"It is my resume! The daring adventures of a Warchef across the world and the 7,777,777 universes!" the Warchef responded, with the worrying eagerness of someone who whole-heartedly believed everything that had just been written.
"I'm reasonably certain…. None of this ever happened? I'm quite sure people would have heard about this, the Foundation would probably be after you for a security breach, and, well, the only thing you even cooked in the story is some sort of healing coffee" Chaz
Cheryl's face turned into a frown. "Ah, yeah. That might have not been the best one…". She buried an arm into her bag, the flittering of more papers suggesting a far larger supply of the 'tales' than firstly evident.
"Wait, wait, wait-" Ambrose interrupted, trying to draw the Chef's attention back to him. "Look, how's about you bring something in from ah, your kitchen or one of these adventures, and… We can reschedule?" Cheryl offered him a skeptical look, before shrugging. "You've ah, still got our number?" he added, hoping
Chaz rested his face in his palms for a few moments once Cheryl left the restaurant, sighing. His attention was then grabbed by the struggled squealing of a long suffering engine trying to start, quickly devolving angry yelling. He shook his head with a further sigh. "I really do need to get someone to pre-screen these applicants…"
Per 
