scp-000000000

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Wow! You flipped a card and got: A Robotic Therapist!!! You ca reload the page or go to the next.
DATE: 13 Apr 2021 00:10

+ Show component code
:root {
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}
 
/* Converting middle divider from box-shadow to ::before pseudo-element */
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/* DIVIDER */
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/* CLASSIFIED LEVEL BARS */
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div.top-center-box > :nth-child(2) { animation-delay: calc(0.32s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay)); }
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div.top-center-box > :nth-child(4) { animation-delay: calc(0.61s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay)); }
div.top-center-box > :nth-child(5) { animation-delay: calc(0.75s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay)); }
div.top-center-box > :nth-child(6) { animation-delay: calc(0.95s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay)); }
 
/* TOP TEXT */
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div.top-left-box > *, div.top-right-box > * {
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/* CONTAINMENT, DISRUPTION, RISK CLASSES */
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/*--- Motion Accessibility ---*/
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/*-------------------------*/
 
@keyframes divider {
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@keyframes bar {
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@keyframes bar-mobile {
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@keyframes bottomup {
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@keyframes iconslide {
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@keyframes expand2 {
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@keyframes fade {
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@keyframes arrowspin {
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}

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6829 is to be kept at Site-89

Description: SCP-6829, also known as Dr. Holly Brass is a sentient android from Anderson Robotics. They have the appearance of a anthropomorphic moth-like robot, approximately 255 pounds and 5'9 feet tall. SCP-6829 has the ability to manipulate the emotional state of any human like being within a 15 feet area. SCP-6829 has requested to be called Holly, claiming he's female. All though, it's been confirmed that SCP-6829's model name is Cullen and programmed to be male. SCP-6829 works at Site-89 as the Site Therapist, working in the Medical Department.

Footnotes

« SCP-XXXW | SCP-XXXX | SCP-XXXY »


Wow! You flipped a card and got: SCP-5XXX - fauls McCartney!!! You ca reload the page or go to the next.
DATE: 12 Apr 2021 20:43

WARNING: WIDE-RANGE, DISRUPTIVE ANOAMLY

Issued by the Collective Society of Charting the Paranormal - California Chapter

Anomaly Case #: SCP-5XXX

Anomaly Range: Widespread

Anomaly Disruption: High

Anomaly Threat: Low

FINAL VERDICT: Chaos

Supernatural Case Procedures:

Due to the range of the anomaly and its disruptive effects, removal and destruction of the anomaly is recommended.

Should one be affected by the anomaly, one should play a song referencing Paul McCartney to neutralize the effect. In the meantime, one should avoid all materials involving Paul McCartney.

Beings affected by the anomaly who want to volunteer to test the effect of the anomaly can contact the Supernatural

Anomaly Description:
SCP-5XXX refers to a series of tombstones stating the supposed demise date of Paul McCartney (who is currently alive). Humans who look at an SCP-5XXX instance will be subject to an anomaly that causes all media related to Paul McCartney to reflect the demise date of Paul McCartney according to the SCP-5XXX instance: for a general example, interviews with Paul McCartney that takes place after the date of the SCP-5XXX instance will change to be reflections on a deceased Paul McCartney; cds of music made after the date will disappear. Photos of SCP-5XXX instances carry the same effect, though they will lose it after the SCP-5XXX instance they depict is destroyed.

Playing songs that reference Paul McCartney has been known to neutralize the effects of the anomaly on this person (though if one brings such song in the range of someone with It is not known why this is the case.
Wow! You flipped a card and got: Hexahead House!!! You ca reload the page or go to the next.
DATE: 12 Apr 2021 19:30

rating: 0+x

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Hexahead_House

SCP-XXXX

Object Class:Safe Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: Due to being unable to remove it from the house without harming it, SCP-XXXX is to remain in the neighbourhood house it was found in. In addition SCP-XXXX is also home to SCP-████, while the house itself is safe, SCP-████ is considered dangerous and hostile.

Cameras are to be place in bulk around and inside SCP-XXXX, and are to be maintained daily during daylight hours. Staff are to clean the house of hair found in SCP-XXXX weekly during daylight hours.

No non foundation personnel is allowed 150 kilometres of the neighbourhood and is to be guarded by undercover personnel disguised as police officers.

All roads leading to the neighbourhood have been destroyed and a forest has been constructed around the neighbourhood with the help of SCP-████. If any non foundation personal are to enter the neighbourhood, or house they are to be detained immediately.

Upon detainment within 6-12 hours, trespassers are to be immediately sprayed with class-A amnestics. If trespassers aren’t detained for 13-72 hours, personnel are to use class-B amnestic tablets, or shot with a hypodermic needle from a tranquiliser gun. Should a trespasser enter SCP-XXXX three (3) staff members armed with cameras, and tranquilisers are to head to SCP-XXXX immediately. Once detained, they are to be sedated and brought to one of the five foundation medical buildings surrounding the neighbourhood so a medical professional can administer class-C amnestic to the trespasser.

Should the trespasser be killed by SCP-[redacted] their entrails are to be disposed of, and a missing persons report is to be filed 7 weeks afterwards.

Description: SCP-XXXX is part of two story house built located in ██████ , Greensburg, United States, within the neighbourhood of ██████ ████, on Harvest Moon Drive. The house SCP-XXXX resides in was built between 1971 and 1973, and comes equipped with three (3) bathrooms, seven (7) rooms, a kitchen, an attic, and a ████ located in the ███████ room, that leads to a chamber 20 metres underground and with ████████, ██████, ████, and ████████.

Theories pending.

It seems to have integrated itself into the walls of the home and grown into it, turning the house walls into a sort of “shell.” Any attempts to remove SCP-XXXX have failed, and it is unknown what it looks like in full detail. What is known is as follows: "Pale blue-gray skin, red blood, and black hair with no recorded length that it regularly sheds."

It should be noted that SCP-XXXX is sentient and capable of speaking in English and French, using various different voices to communicate, however due to SCP-XXXX being unco-operative it refuses to answer most questions asked and often ignores them.

Addendum: SCP-XXXX was discovered in 12, 03, 2000, when a family living with it was brutally murdered by SCP-████, only the mother, Mary Sunderland, survived.

For more information on SCP-████ see ████████.

+ Interview with ████████ ███-██████████.
+ Interview of SCP-XXXX

Wow! You flipped a card and got: Xeem!!! You ca reload the page or go to the next.
DATE: 12 Apr 2021 18:51
rating: 0+x

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Safe

Lightbulb

SCP-XXXX against a neutal background

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is to be contained in a 153 cubic container made out of wood and filled with cotton and other shock-proof material, which is to be locked and kept in a safe storage unit at Site-15. Experimentation with SCP-XXXX requires the usage of hazmat suits with darkened visors to filter the light. Exposure of living or water based entities or SCPs to SCP-XXXX is forbidden unless authorized from at least two researchers with Clearence Level 3 or higher.

Description: SCP-XXXX is an 60 Watt lightbulb of unknown manufacture, the lightbulb is spherical in shape and has a diameter of 8.5 centimeters, its only identifiable features is a small detacheable sheet of paper attached to it during recovery, which states: “Les Sœurs de l'Éclairage, 1968” (French for: “The Lighting Sisters”). SCP-XXXX behaves normally for a lightbulb of its power, producing approximately 700 Lumens. SCP-XXXX anomalous properties are activated once it is lighted by an electrical current. All water exposed to the light produced by SCP-XXXX will undergo electrolysis, with the molecules of water separating in atms of Oxygen and Hydrogen at a speed proportional to the amount of light recieved directely from the lightbulb. Any living organism that requires water to function exposed to this effect will rapidly die of total dehydration, often resulting into the corpse becoming mummified. This process is instantaneous, and doesn’t produce heat. While the process of electrolysis normally requires electrodes, SCP-XXXX seems to be capable of ignoring the normal need of an electrical current. The process is based on exposure to light, and as such any protection from direct exposure, such as heavy clothes or sunglasses, will effectively slow or completely neutralize the effects of SCP-XXXX.

Recovery: SCP-XXXX was recovered in an abandoned house in the village of ████████, France. The house had been abandoned after two of its owners died of mysterious illnesses derived from dehydration. In date 15/01/2001, field agents Amélie and Lucas inspected the house for its suspected anomalous nature, and discovered the properties of SCP-XXXX when agent Amélie entered the basement and turned on the light that gave power to SCP-XXXX. Agent Amélie started felling immediately the ill effects, but thanks to the heavy garments she was wearing due to the low temperatures, she didn’t succumb to the negative influence and managed to turn off the lights. Thanks to the quick medical cares of agent Lucas agent Amélie managed to warn the Foundation, who sent a recovery squad and isolated the effect as being isolated to the lightbulb, which was then brought to Foundation for further analisys.

No trace of other anomalous objects or activity has been located in the house, and no trace of how the lightbulb was located in the house could be found. The woman that owned the the house from 1934 to 1977, Marcille Poulin, has been described from local sources as “adventurous and enamored with strange trinket she brought from her travels”. The house was sold at Marcille Death, in 03/08/1977, and the content was shipped to unknown location by her butler, an English man by the name of Jonathan. Currently the working theory is that the lightbulb, collected by Marcille during one of her travel, was left on accident in the house, and one of its successive occupants found it and used it to light the basement.

[[footnoteblock]]

« SCP-XXXW | SCP-XXXX | SCP-XXXY »


Wow! You flipped a card and got: Time 'n' Place!!! You ca reload the page or go to the next.
DATE: 12 Apr 2021 15:49
+ Show theme code
rating: 0+x

5/XXX LEVEL 5/XXX

CLASSIFIED

 classified-lv5.png

Item #: SCP-XXX

Object Class: Safe
chronal-dimension.jpg

SCP-XXX-A and SCP-XXX-B

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXX-A and SCP-XXX-B are stored together within a high-security anomalous object storage locker at Site-01. Testing of the objects has been discontinued.

Description: SCP-XXX is the designation given to a pair of small statuettes, similar in appearance and size and composed of inexpensive plastic. Both objects have been found via carbon-dating to be more than 40,000 years old.

SCP-XXX-A is a thin human-shaped statuette lacking any distinct arms or legs. Its shape is weathered and irregular, and seams separate its head, its torso, and its lower area. When handled with both hands by a human or otherwise sapient subject, the object induces hallucinations of false memories; such hallucinations range in length from several minutes to several hours, and are often reported to be indistinguishable from reality despite consisting of fantastical and unrealistic events. Subjects invariably report being children of various ages within these hallucinations.

SCP-XXX-B is a broad-shouldered, limbless human-shaped statuette. Though the rest of its body is heavily eroded and cracked, its face is distinctly preserved. Handling SCP-XXX-B with both hands instantaneously transports human or otherwise sapient subjects to a seemingly random location, which is invariably reported to be oddly familiar albeit "missing something." To date, none of these locations have been found to possess anomalous properties.

Shallow gouges with traces of ink within are present on the upper back areas of both SCP-XXX-A and SCP-XXX-B. These are believed to have at one point been inscriptions; however, years of weathering and erosion has rendered them unreadable.

Addendum: SCP-XXX-A Testing Log - [General descriptions now — punch them up to be more melancholic and fitting of the theme later]

Subject: D-607830

Description: Subject skipped down a street they recognized as being located in the city of their birth, humming and licking a large pink lollipop. A male child approached them and forcibly pushed them into the ditch at the side of the road; they and the lollipop became saturated in mud. The child pointed and laughed as subject sat in the ditch and wept; then, without warning, a speeding pink convertible appeared from behind subject and spun out of control, striking the child and causing his body to shatter. Subject climbed out of the ditch, found the child's arm on the ground, and began peeling its skin off in strips.

Subject: D-238591

Description: Subject walked through a desert carrying a large tuna fish in its arms, attempting to keep it alive by intermittently moistening its gills with water from a canteen. An oasis was visible in the distance. The fish twitched and shuddered at random intervals, and subject whispered words of encouragement whenever it did so; subject noted that the fish appeared to be staring into their eyes at all times.

After several minutes of walking, subject ran out of water and began quickening their pace. As they approached the oasis, they tripped, dropping the fish on the sand. Subject, now exhausted, used the last of their energy to pick up the fish and drop it into the water of the oasis; upon being submerged, the fish immediately died.

Subject: D-948573

Description: Subject was seated upon a couch beside another child, reported to be a childhood friend, playing a cooperative videogame with them. Upon completion of a level, subject's companion's character died. Subject subsequently glanced to their side to find the other child slumped and unresponsive; as they watched, the child's corpse rapidly decayed and mummified before crumbling into dust.

Subject proceeded to continue playing the videogame alone for three hours.

Subject: D-23143

Description: Subject recalled being a fetus within their mother's womb, moments before being born. They forcibly crawled through the birth canal and extricated themself from the uterus, then used their teeth to remove their umbilical cord. Upon their birth, subject found themself and their mother in the display case of a butcher shop.

Subject: D-511213

Description: Upon recovering from the hallucination, subject's account of their experience was unable to be parsed, resembling glossolalia to attending personnel. Subject was instructed to write a description of the hallucination on a provided notepad; upon doing so, the notepad and pencil disappeared, and subject became unable to recall what they had written.

Addendum: SCP-XXX-B Testing Log

Mr. Bernie Sanders

Mr. Destiny

Mr. Hot

Mr. Lost

Mr. Brass

Ms. Zapatista

REDACTED -- CLEARANCE LEVEL 5 OR ABOVE REQUIRED

Wow! You flipped a card and got: Animaniacal!!! You ca reload the page or go to the next.
DATE: 12 Apr 2021 15:34

No Reflections

Joseph Minster didn't deserve the death penalty. After all, he was innocent! At least, that's what the evidence said. At least, that's what his lawyer said. Joe thought back to that conversation, held in a dimly lit office not much bigger than the cell where he was now confined. "You'd be a fool to take that plea bargain," the lawyer had said, seemingly full of confidence, "the only reason they're offering it is because they know this case won't stick. It's too high profile!" Joe remembered how that sleeze had grinned as he gave his explanation, "You've already been hanged in the court of public opinion. The DA trumped up the charges to satisfy the mob, but they have no way to prove aggravated murder. Maybe they could get you on second degree. Manslaughter? Then you'd be in some trouble. But aggravated? First degree? No way, Jose! The guy's dead, and you did it, they've got hard evidence on that. But they've got nothin' for intent."

The man thought he was so slick, and he'd talked a good game as far as Joe could tell. He made it sound easy. Joe should've known it was too good to be true. Should've known not to trust… him. What was his name? Joe realized that he couldn't remember, but supposed it didn't matter. That guy was a fraud in a cheap suit. The only thing slick about him was the grease in his hair. Joe shouldn't have listened to him. He should've gotten life in prison. They'd had his fingerprints and a witness for god's sake! There was no way they wouldn't have convicted him! But the lawyer had kept on talking and Joe had kept on listening.

"Look, we're in Illinois, not Texas. No jury here is going to approve the death penalty. A life sentence is the most the prosecution could go for, and that ain't how a plea deal is supposed to work. They're supposed to show you a stick, and offer a carrot… or uh, a slightly smaller stick, I suppose. Instead, they offered you the biggest stick they got, because they wanna scare you enough that you won't realize they can't swing it. And if they do, you're only getting exactly what you'd get if you took the plea bargain! You've got no incentive, trust me." And he had. The man threw him a lifeline, so he grabbed it.

And sunk like a stone.

He'd appealed the decision, of course, and that's when someone approached him with another bargain. One month of work at some secret facility, and he'd be free to go. He should've gotten life in prison. This was his way out.

He was still a prisoner, obviously. He still slept in a cell, still wore an orange jumpsuit, still ate the same awful food. The difference was that he knew it was temporary. Now he had hope, and that was all he needed.

There were other differences too, the nature of his work being the most obvious. Joe saw things in this place he never would've believed before, and heard about more that he never could've imagined. But there were smaller differences too. Little details, easy to overlook if you didn't care. In prison, Joe had seen all kinds of haircuts and styles. Here though, the D-class all had military-short buzz cuts. Another way to strip them of their individuality, he supposed, like their numbers.

It must be easier to send us to our deaths if they think we're all the same, Joe thought to himself as he walked through the cafeteria one day. He was waiting in line for his second daily dose of nutrition (he refused to call that stuff "food"). Moving through a sea of orange, he understood his exact value in the eyes of the Foundation. I'm just another criminal to them.

"The 'D' stands for 'disposable'," he'd been told on his first day, alongside a number of other new conscripts, "because that's exactly what you are if you cease to cooperate." The introductory speech had been brief, but absolutely clear. Their work was important, but potentially extremely dangerous. That was why people like them were selected for certain tasks. Joe looked around the room at his fellows, some eating, some laughing, some staring sullenly at nothing. He wondered how many of them would survive their month.

It doesn't matter how many of them survive. I just need to make sure I do.

He remembered the end of the speech clearly, "Yes, D-class die. But believe it or not, we try to make sure that happens as little as possible. You're disposable, but you're not cheap, and there isn't an endless supply of qualified inmates. Just do what you're told, keep your wits about you, and you'll probably be fine." So that's what Joe did. He kept in line. For two weeks now, he'd done what he was told without question, and for two weeks, he hadn't died.

A squishy, green substance and a chewy, red substance were dispensed onto his tray, and he began to look for a relatively empty table. Joe didn't see much point in socializing with the other D-class. None of them were here on a long-term basis, and most of them weren't really social creatures anyway. He spotted a table with only two occupants and turned to walk towards it. As he turned though, another man pivoted to stand up from his stool and bumped right into him. In an attempt to keep his tray from spilling, Joe stumbled through the smaller man, who promptly fell back onto his seat. Had the stool not been bolted in place, he may have fallen all the way to the floor. But it was, so he was saved from that embarrassment, at least.

Hoping to leave well enough alone, Joe continued awkwardly on his way. Unfortunately, the other man had too much pride or too little sense for that. Possibly both. "Hey! Watch where you're going old man!" Joe rolled his eyes and kept walking. "Old man"? Was that really the best he could come up with? The other man looked to be in his early twenties, certainly younger than Joe, but not that much younger.

"Hey, I'm talking to you old man! Are you deaf and blind?"

Joe sighed and turned around. He wasn't surprised to see the other man had again gotten up from his seat and was now walking towards him. "No, you're just stupid. Now-" Joe was going to say "walk away before you do something to prove it," but the smaller man beat him to the punch. Right in the nose. Joe took the hit without flinching and glanced at some guards by the wall. They had apparently decided that the situation did not require their interference. Not yet.

Joe let go of his tray with one hand and grabbed the other man by the shoulder. The man tried to pull back, but Joe's grip was firm. He tried to resist as Joe physically moved him down the row of tables, but he weighed maybe 120 pounds, soaking wet. How a twig like him ended up here, Joe had no idea. He moved the man back to his stool and pushed him down. Without letting go of his shoulder, Joe said "Listen here, you little punk. I don't know where you think you are, but this isn't prison, and it ain't the streets. Look around you." The man took a moment to react, but then slowly turned his head to take in his surroundings, his eyes flicking back to Joe as he did so. "Look at these guys," Joe continued, "no one here cares how tough you think you are, because you're not. And even if you were, it wouldn't matter. I saw three men die today at the hands of a monster I literally can't describe. Do you honestly think I care about a skinny little shit like you?

The man didn't respond.

Good.

"We're here to do a job. We do it right, and maybe some of us get out of here. Focus on that, and let your stupid little pride get you killed somewhere else." Joe let go. The man did not get up. Joe decided to look for a new table, he wanted some distance from that man, just in case. As he walked, he noticed a warm wetness dripping onto his lips. He touched gingerly at his nose. Broken. Joe looked at his tray and saw a spatter of blood had dripped on it. Whatever, maybe that would make it taste better.

He hadn't actually seen anyone die that day. He hadn't seen any indescribable horrors either. He'd just cleaned up some kind of black goo and fed it to a bag with teeth. Weird, but not really terrifying. No, he'd simply told the other man what he needed to hear to get a proper sense of perspective. He might've smiled if the stuff he was eating wasn't so awful. Blood did not make it taste better, apparently.

He grimaced and touched at his broken nose. It didn't hurt too badly, hopefully the bleeding would stop soon. He set it as best he could without a mirror and went back to eating.

When Joe returned to his cell at the end of the day, he had intended to look and see how crooked it was. It was only then that he realized that his cell didn't actually have a mirror. One more difference from prison, he thought. In prison, his cell had had a small mirror mounted to the wall above his sink. Not glass, for obvious reasons, but a sheet of reflective metal that served well enough. Here though, all he had were dull, grey walls. Of course though are the same. Joe found the thought oddly discomforting as he went to sleep.

The next day, Joe woke up sore all over. This had happened every day since he came here. "Stupid, cheap mattress," he muttered as he cracked his joints and stretched his limbs. While waiting for whatever task he'd have to perform that day, Joe brushed his teeth, drank some water, and dropped to the floor. Some people in confinement let their bodies waste away, but he wasn't one of them. He began doing pushups. Not so many that he would have trouble with his work later, just enough to get his blood flowing. He was going to make sure he was ready for whatever got thrown at him. He was not going to die here. He did not deserve the death penalty.

Later, as he was shuttled from one location to another, Joe kept an eye out for a mirror, or some other sufficiently reflective surface. He still wanted to get a look at his nose. After a few hours though, he became frustrated with how dull everything was. Not only were there no mirrors, there were no windows either, and the metal doors were all painted various shades of boring. Eventually, it became less about seeing the damage to his face and more of a personal challenge. There had to be one around here somewhere, and he was going to find it.

That day, Joe was brought to the cafeteria for lunch at 11:30 rather than noon. He wondered if that was due to yesterday's mishap, or if the D-class schedules were regularly shuffled to keep them from getting too comfortable. He decided it was probably both.

He received his rations, red and grey this time, and found a seat without issue. He looked at the men around him, briefly second-guessed his plan of action, then dove in before he could talk himself out of it. "So, um…" Joe cleared his throat, a big man at the far side of the table looked at him with a placid, almost uninterested gaze, a man with a weaselly face glanced briefly at Joe before looking back at his own trey, the rest of the men ignored him entirely. Joe continued, "Hey um, have any of you guys seen any mirrors around this place?" The big guy furrowed his eyebrows, Weasel looked at Joe suspiciously and glanced around, but didn't say anything.

"Mirrors?"

It was the man sitting next to Joe. Tall and thin, he spoke without looking away from his trey, "Why? You hear rumours about an anomaly or something?" Joe shook his head, "No, nothing like that. I mean just a regular mirror, or anything you could look at your reflection in, really. I don't think I've seen one since I got here." Weasel smirked, without looking up he said, "For you, I think that's for the best." "No." The big man spoke softly, but with a strong voice, one of Weasel's eyes twitched at the sound, "I haven't seen any either. It's weird."

"This whole place is weird," the thin man said, finally looking Joe in the face, do you think it- oh shit, what happened to your face?" Joe winced, "Is it really that bad?" Weasel snickered, "In a word, yes." "Right, so, we know why you want one," the thin man said, regaining his composure, "any idea why they wouldn't have them?" "I don't know," Joe confessed, "but they were pretty thorough about it." "My abuela used to say that mirrors can act like doorways for spirits," the big man said, "I never really believed in stuff like that, but now…" he let the thought hang in the air.

As they finished their meal, the four men discussed hypothetical reasons for the lack of reflective surfaces. "It's gotta be something locked up here, specifically," said the thin man, whose name turned out to be Craig, "they've got something that does something with mirrors, so they gotta keep it away from them." Pedro, the big man, nodded at this, but Weasel, who opted not to give his name, was unconvinced. "They've still got rearview mirrors on their cars, right? We saw them when they brought us here." "Did we?" Joe asked, "I don't know about you, but when I was brought in, I was a bit too preoccupied to notice whether or not the cars were road-legal." "I don't think these guys care too much about the law, anyways," Pedro added.

"Maybe you didn't see them," Weasel retorted, "but I did. Granted, it's an easy detail to miss, but I'm attentive." "Is that what you call it?" Craig asked, quickly looking around with exaggerated jerks of his head. They all laughed at that, and it felt good. Joe couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good, honest laugh about something. His life had been a mess before he got here, even before he'd become a killer. He'd been cycling between dead-end jobs and unemployment, skirting the edge of homelessness, and generally focused more on his next fix than his next meal. When he got out of here, all of that would change. He didn't deserve the death penalty. He should've gotten life in prison. This was his second chance.

"-ven if they do have mirrors on their cars, that wouldn't matter if they were far enough away," it was Craig talking again, Joe realized that he'd been spacing out. "It would have to have some kind of limits to its range or keeping mirrors out of the facility wouldn't matter. It would just use one somewhere else in the world." "Unless the thing is outside, and they're trying to keep it from getting in," Pedro suggested. "Maybe," Weasel allowed, "but I don't think it has to do with an anomaly at all. It's about us." "How do you figure? Joe asked.

Weasel seemed all to glad to explain himself, "It's all about control," he said with a confident grin, "they wanna make sure we know our place. TV, books, windows, mirrors, all things we might get in prison we can't get here. We won't be here long enough for stuff like that to matter one way or another. They wanna make sure we know that. I guarantee that if you went into the guards' barracks or one of the proper employee bathrooms, they've got mirrors, a magazine rack, hell, they've probably got vending machines!" Craig laughed, "I guarantee that if you went into the guards' barracks, you'd be shot!" They laughed again, despite their circumstances, and because of them. It's the one thing they haven't taken away from us, Joe thought with a smile, our laughter.

When the half hour ended, they all went their separate ways. Joe was made to go with a group of six other D-class and three guards. The guards didn't say where they were going, and no one asked. They just started walking. So they went, through checkpoints and down corridors, until they arrived in a part of the facility that Joe didn't think he'd been to before. Granted, it was hard to tell since it looked the same as every part he had been to, but he thought it smelled… different. Less sterile, more fresh. Maybe we're close to the outside. The thought gave him hope. Not hope of escape, that would be stupid. The feeling wasn't well defined, but promised that the future would be better than the past.

As they walked, Joe paid close attention to his surroundings. There still wasn't anything reflective, but the conversation at lunch had given him another idea. When he saw what he needed, he steeled his nerve, stopped in his tracks and asked, "Hey, can I use the bathroom?" It was poorly timed, the D-class walking behind him didn't react quickly enough and bumped into him. "Dude, what the hell?" the other man complained as the group came to a stop around them.

"Keep walking," one of the guards ordered. "Sorry, sorry! I just really need to use the bathroom," Joe said, trying to sound as sincere as possible. "Then you should have gone during your regularly scheduled lunch break," the guard said with agitation, "Keep. Walking."

"You're right, you're right, that would've been smart! It's just, well, that wasn't my regularly scheduled lunch break. See, I usually eat at noon, but they moved me to 11:30 today, and…" Joe swallowed, "well, I know it sounds lame, but I really didn't have to go then!"

The guard made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl, "That is really not my problem." Joe tried to sound just the right kind of desperate, "I know, I know, you're right, I- I'm sorry. I don't wanna be a problem, I just also don't wanna piss myself! And there's a bathroom right there!" He pointed at the door they'd just passed. The guard looked over, and sure enough, the sign marked it as a restroom.

One of the other guards spoke up, "Just let him go, Hitch. The lab coats can wait an extra thirty seconds, who cares?" "Fine," the guard named Hitch conceded, "but you have to watch him and make sure he doesn't cause trouble. That isn't a monitored restroom." So they did have cameras in the D-class bathrooms. Not surprising, but still disconcerting. "Okay, if anyone else has to go too, say something now or forever hold your peace," the second guard ordered. No one said anything.

The guard went to the door, knocked, called inside, then waived Joe over. Here we go… This was it. This was the place where Joe thought he was most likely to find a mirror. His heart was pounding, and he realized just how ridiculous he was for taking this so seriously. He chuckled despite himself as he walked towards the door. The guard must have taken it as a sign of nervousness, but showed no concern. "Just hurry up, I'm not gonna hurt you," the guard said, rolling his eyes. Joe nodded, "Y-yeah." He took a deep breath, pushed on the door…

And was met by the sight of a toilet, a sink, and three empty walls.

He walked in, feeling deflated, and the guard followed. He knew it would look suspicious if he suddenly decided not to go after alk, so he walked over to the toilet and did his business. As he did, Joe saw a small trash can nestled between the toilet and the wall. A discarded newspaper was rolled up inside of it. Not much of a magazine rack, Weasel. As he bent over to flush, Joe reached out and grabbed the newspaper. He might as well get something out of this charade…

"Hey," the guard said "what's that?"

Damn.

"Just an old newspaper," Joe answered, unfurling it to quickly scan the front page. He hoped that the guard would let him keep it, but doubted that he'd be lucky enough to be granted two favours in such quick succession. "I don't think I've seen one since…" the sentence died on his lips. He read the date at the top of the page, closed his eyes hard, opened them, and read it again. It hadn't changed. It read "June 4th, 2017".

The guard was shouting something, but Joe couldn't hear him, couldn't see him tear the paper from his shaking hands. All he saw were those four numbers. They didn't make any sense. It wasn't 2017, it was 1995. He'd only been here for two weeks! And yet, as the world moved in a blur around him, certain details about those two weeks stood out to him. Names he couldn't remember, joints feeling sore and stiff, and behind it all, a stupid punk shouting at him, "old man!"

Joe didn't need a mirror anymore. He didn't want one. He was too afraid of what he knew he would see. Not just a badly broken nose, but wrinkles, dimming eyes, and grey, receding hair. His mind processed this as he was made to sit in a chair fashioned with restraints. A chair that he didn't remember getting strapped to hundreds of times before. He couldn't speak. Tears were streaming down his face, but he didn't make a sound. All he could think was that this wasn't fair. He shouldn't even be here! He… he hadn't deserved the death penalty. He should have gotten life in prison.

He did.
Wow! You flipped a card and got: I wanted to escape the angel!!! You ca reload the page or go to the next.
DATE: 12 Apr 2021 15:04







SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES:

En raison des récentes découvertes concernant SCP-XXXX, les Procédures de Confinement Spéciales ont été revisités. Les anciennes sont archivés ci-dessous.

Old Special Containment Procedures

Toutes activités causé par SCP-XXXX doit être falsifiée pour faire paraître le phénomène comme normal.
Tout individus ayant pris connaissance de SCP-XXXX doit se faire administrer des amnésiques sous les plus bref délais, si l'individu a dépassé le stade quatre (4) alors il doit être éliminé.
La connaissance de SCP-XXXX ne doit jamais être découvert au delà du Conseil O5, la découverte de SCP-XXXX au public peut entrainer un scénario de classe XK "Fin Du Monde".

Aucune tentative d'extraire SCP-XXXX-ע dans notre réalité ne doit être fait, aucune tentative de communication avec SCP-XXXX-ע ne doit être fait sous peine d'un scénario de classe XK "Fin Du Monde".

En raison de sa capacité à détruire le monde, mais qu'un confinement puisse être possible, SCP-XXXX est classé Mastodonte2.

Toutes les recherches concernant SCP-XXXX ont été définitivement suspendu.

DESCRIPTION:

SCP-XXXX est une paroi séparant notre réalité à une uchronie de notre réalité. SCP-XXXX est également constitué de plusieurs "sous-paroi":

  • SCP-XXXX-1 est l'intérieur de la paroi. SCP-XXXX-1 est vide contient SCP-XXXX-ע. Or mis sa présence, l'endroit reste vide.
  • SCP-XXXX-2 est la paroi extérieur de SCP-XXXX-1. SCP-XXXX-2 est difficile à percer et permet d'empêcher une collision entre notre réalités et SCP-XXXX-1. Il est supposé que la réalité alternative se situant de "l'autre côté" de SCP-XXXX est également équipé de SCP-XXXX-2.
  • SCP-XXXX-3 est la paroi intérieur de SCP-XXXX-1. SCP-XXXX-3, si est à découvert, possède un dangereux danger sensitif.
  • SCP-XXXX-4 est désigné comme étant la réalité alternative. En raison du peu d'information et de sa nature, SCP-XXXX-4 a conservé indépendamment des autres phénomènes sa classification en necropsar.

SCP-XXXX-ע est une entité vivant à l'intérieur de SCP-XXXX-1. Pour plus d'information, veuillez consulter l'addendum XXXX.2.

Seul ██ personnes peuvent avoir connaissance de SCP-XXXX en même temps. Si une personne outre-passant cette limite apprend l'existence de SCP-XXXX, il subira de puissant effets résultant à la mort du sujet. Ces effets s'étendent sur une durée de deux (2) mois.
Les effets apparaissent de façon chronologique et son cumulé mais la durée d'apparition de ces derniers est variable selon l'individu. Il existe un total de six (6) phases après la découvertes de SCP-XXXX:

  • 1. Le sujet aura de sévère maux de tête.
  • 2. Le sujet commencera à avoir des nausées et à avoir des hallucination où il y verra SCP-XXXX-עֶ à l'intérieur de SCP-XXXX-1.
  • 3. Les hallucinations chez le sujet lui feront voir un monde inconnue en ruine, ressemblant vaguement à notre civilisation sous la première Révolution Industrielle, le cerveau du sujet commencera également à subir certaines pathologie entrainant la folie. Les symptômes précédents empirent également.
  • 4. Le sujet aura également des visions d'une entité humanoïde ressemblant vaguement à un ange avec trois (3) paires d'ailes, le sujet verra aussi souffrir de multiples évanouissement et de grosses sueurs froides. Les symptômes précédents empirent.
  • 5. Le sujet aura des visions précises de l'humanoïde ailé, une apparition de plusieurs tumeurs cérébrales se feront découvrir.
  • 6. Mort du sujet.

Les effets de SCP-XXXX peuvent être empêcher par l'administration d'amnésiques tant que les sujets n'aient pas atteint la phase quatre (4).

SCP-XXXX peut provoquer des secousses sismique anormales. Cette réaction est possible lorsque SCP-XXXX-ע essaie de rentrer dans notre monde. Pour cela SCP-XXXX-ע essaie de créer une brèche entre SCP-XXXX-2 et SCP-XXXX-3, ce qui entraine une perturbation du niveau des Humes résultant en la création de secousses se situant entre le niveau cinq (5) et neuf (9) de l'échelle de Richter3.
Toutes ses tentatives pour entrer dans notre monde ont toutes échoués.

DISCOVERY:

La découverte de SCP-XXXX se fut en deux (2) parties.

Des chercheurs du Département d'Observation et de Planification Historique ont découvert PRA4 des données peu précises concernant une réalité alternative à la nôtre. En raison du manque d'information concernant les données prouvant l'authenticité et voyant que cet "autre monde" ne fait pas partie du Processus Historique Humain standard (H-001), il a reçu la classification de Necropsar.

En ████, un séisme de magnitude 7 a été détecté en ██████, en Russie, ne pouvant normalement ne pas recevoir une secousse sismique d'un tel niveau, des chercheurs de la Fondation ont été dépêché sur place afin d'enquêter.
Le niveau de Hume présent était anormalement bas, confirmant l'hypothèse d'un tremblement de terre anormale. Les deux anomalies étaient classé séparément.
Après de nombreuse recherche par le Département d'Observation et de Planification Historique, nous avons pu découvrir un lien entre SCP-XXXX-4 (anciennement désigné SCP-XXXX) et les séismes anormaux.
Des recherches supplémentaires ont été mené et permis de découvrir SCP-XXXX-1-2-3.

Au bout de 2 semaines après la découverte de SCP-XXXX, treize (13) membres du Département d'Observation et de Planification Historique sur le projet SCP-XXXX ont commencé à souffrir de plusieurs maux de tête et de vision.
Tous les membres finirent par décéder. Le Conseil O5 décidèrent d'amnésié tout le personnel sur le projet SCP-XXXX et commencèrent à effectuer des tests sur des classes-D afin de mieux connaître les effets de SCP-XXXX sur les individus.

ADDENDUM XXXX.1:

RAPPORT D'INCIDENT

Note: Ce qui suit est la retranscription audio/vidéo de l'incident XXXX. Le but de l'opération était de créer une fissure dans SCP-XXXX à l'aide d'un PPU5 afin d'en apprendre davantage sur SCP-XXXX.

<Begin Log>

Commande: Commencez la manoeuvre.

Le PPU commence à s'allumer, un bruit strident se fait entendre.

Perceur_de_paroi_uchronique.jpg

Le PPU lors de son activation.

Commande: Bordel ? C'est quoi cette connerie encore ?

Ingénieur ████: C'est tout à fait normal, ne vous inquiétez pas, ça veut juste dire que ça fonctionne ?

Commande: Bien, veuillez poursuivre.

Le PPU est complètement allumé, prêt à être utilisé.

Ingénieur ████: Parfait ! Tout est prêt, on peut commencer !

Commande: Est-ce qu'il y a des risques de l'utiliser ?

Ingénieur ████: Beaucoup ! C'est un prototype, mais c'est pour ça qu'on a des Classes-D qui vont faire toutes la sale besogne à notre place !

L'ingénieur ████ fit rentrer D-5956, D-4971, D-9852 et D-3785 escortés par 2 Agents.

Ingénieur ████: Bon ! 5956 et 9852 vous allez actionner les deux boutons à droite ! 4971 et 3785 vous allez faire ceux de gauche !

Les Classes-D exécutèrent leur ordre et actionnèrent les 4 boutons respectives. Une lumières Bleue apparu au centre de la machine.

Commande: Est-ce que ça fonctionne ?

Ingénieur ████: Vous nous prenez pour des amateurs ?! Bien sûr que oui ça fonctionne ! Tout se passe comme pré-

Un cri assourdissant, différent et plus fort que le précédent se fait entendre.

Commande: Je présume que ça aussi c'est normal ?

Ingénieur ████: N- non… ç-ça pue beaucoup ! Arrêtez Tout !

La lumière devient plus Brillante. Les Classes-D commencent à paniquer.

Ingénieur ████: Bougez de là !

Commande: ████ ! qu'est-ce que tout ça signi-

une onde de choc se fait ressentir, une fissure se transformant en trou apparait au centre de la machine. Les classes-D et les agents commencent à pousser des cries d'agonies, la Commande est inconsciente, l'ingénieur ████ essaie de rentrer dans la salle du PPU. Des secousses se font également ressentir

Inconnu : LI… BER…

L'ingénieur ████ parvient à rentrer.

Ingénieur ████: Bordel qu'est-ce que-

Inconnu : TÉ?

La brèche se referme, libérant un éclair broyant les classes-D, les agents et l'ingénieur ████ et une onde de choc détruisant la machine. Un séisme de magnitude 9 fut ressentie dans tout le Site.

<End Log>

ADDENDUM XXXX.2:

CONTACT AVEC SCP-XXXX-ע

Note: Après l'incident causé par l'anomalie, le Conseil O5 a voulu entreprendre un contact avec SCP-XXXX-ע, il a été demandé de créer un second PPU plus puissant et pus stable que le premier afin qu'un autre incident ne puisse se reproduire à l'avenir. Au bout ██ années, un second PPU fut créer, permettant d'empêcher l'apparition des effets de SCP-XXXX et une autre secousse de magnitude 9.

<Begin Log>

<End Log>

[[footnoteblock]]

« SCP-WWWW | SCP-XXXX | SCP-YYYY »


Wow! You flipped a card and got: Mr. Mania Tale!!! You ca reload the page or go to the next.
DATE: 12 Apr 2021 12:45

O5-1: I've called a meeting today regarding the complete public disclosure of the SCP foundation.
Shouting and arguing can be hard among the rest of the O5 Council
O5-1: Please let me explain-
O5-*: You don't need to explain anything. We can call a vote now. All for announcing or existence to the world, breaking our over ██ ████████ long secrecy and the com
Wow! You flipped a card and got: Nyelo!!! You ca reload the page or go to the next.
DATE: 12 Apr 2021 10:25

rating: 0+x

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is to be contained within a Standard Secure Humanoid Containment Cell. SCP-XXXX is to be administered at least 40 kilograms of Ketchup every week, this amount can increase depending on the quantity of ketchup lost during an attack.

Description: SCP-XXXX is a humanoid entity composed, in its majority, by tomato sauce. It presents two green human eyes hanging from two gaps in its face. Underneath the tomato sauce, SCP-XXXX shows a human skeleton and organs but have been repurposed for unknown functions.

SCP-XXXX has demonstrated to be conscious, however, its actions do not follow the consciousness wishes, suggesting a limited control over itself. It is believed that the consciousness within SCP-XXXX is the one from Myles Meighan (see Addendum-XXXX-1). Regularly, SCP-XXXX will emit noises similar to whimpers before falling asleep.

[[footnoteblock]]

« SCP-XXXW | SCP-XXXX | SCP-XXXY »


Wow! You flipped a card and got: Asf!!! You ca reload the page or go to the next.
DATE: 12 Apr 2021 06:41
Normal
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