2/xxxx LEVEL 2/xxxx
CLASSIFIED
Special Containment Procedures: All instances of SCP-XXXX are kept in standard biological containment in Site-66. SCP-XXXX-1 is stored in standard liquid containment units and should be regularly checked for leakage.
Following recent developments, any building used for the containment or study of SCP-XXXX must comply with the NFPA-780 SILPS. Any instance of the species Aquila chrysaetos seen in its vicinity is to be monitored due to increased risk of aggression.
An instance of SCP-XXXX producing SCP-XXXX-1.
Description: SCP-XXXX is an undocumented species of the Aphidoidea superfamily. Its only anomalous property is the secretion of a saccharine narcotic liquid designated SCP-XXXX-1 from its anus.
When a subject first ingests SCP-XXXX-1, they will begin to develop a small pouch on the lefthand side of their peritoneum, directly connected to the large intestine. Once the pouch is fully developed (a process that takes several days), all components of the digestive system not directly leading to and from it will begin to atrophy.
Due to this degeneration, most foods can no longer be digested properly; however, the newly formed pouch allows the subject to subsist on small amounts of SCP-XXXX-1 with no apparent detrimental effects. Notably, as a subject continues to rely on SCP-XXXX-1 as their only source of nutrition, their opinion of its taste will become more positive over time.
Discovery: SCP-XXXX was brought to the Foundation's attention in March of 2011 following reports from Litochoro, Greece of a nearby grove of trees sprouting “ambrosia” from their bark. Foundation agents quarantined the grove under the cover story of a new outbreak of Myzus persicae and removed SCP-XXXX from its trees.
Addendum as of 2012-01-11:
Hello all!
As of today, Dr. Bruton will no longer be supervising research of SCP-XXXX. Dr. Stichol will be taking over her duties.
In addition, I would like to reiterate that while taking anything home with you from the Site is strictly prohibited without prior approval, attempting to remove anomalous materials is grounds for immediate termination of employment with potential for further investigation. So, for both your sake and ours, please keep all your work in the lab!
Mary Coccinell
Human Resources Specialist
Addendum as of 2012-01-14: During the initial investigational sweep of Dr. Bruton's office, five handwritten letters were found in her desk drawer. Each letter's envelope is devoid of postage, instead featuring a small holographic image of a rainbow in the upper right corner. A date has been written on each letter's envelope in Dr. Bruton's handwriting and is assumed to be the date of reception.
How foolish are you, that you think you may claim the nectar and ambrosia of the gods without consequence? The taste is not suitable for mortal lips! If you do not return our flock by choice, we will descend and take them from the burning wreckage of your temple. You may think yourselves strong, but nothing can protect a man from the sky above him.
You have one week. Seven days, due to my divine generosity, before I fry every mortal creature within five hundred podes of our property.
This will be your only warning.
Do you find divine rage humorous? You place poles on your roof to catch my vengeance and act as if you have won the game. But you greatly underestimate the sheer power and persistence of a god’s wrath!
However. I acknowledge that you have a potent bargaining chip in your possession. So, I am allowing you this single chance to request a boon. I have the power of a pantheon at my disposal. Whatever you wish, you may have for the simplest of trades.
I have seen from my throne that you are a woman who yet denies herself the infinite pleasures of womanhood. With a wave of my hand, I could have you swept off your feet by a man or woman who fits so perfectly against you, it's as if I designed them that way.
Or are you more fixated on your 'scientific' pursuits? I've known many a philosopher; it is not a novel craving. Return the flock, and I will peel back the surface of the universe for you and let you play surgeon on its inner workings. I can tell you anything.
All you need to do is return the voracious and their ambrosia. I will give you whatever your mortal heart can conceive of!
Ah, and if the temptation is insufficient, perhaps this will tip your hand. You must know by now of the effects of ambrosia. After tasting the food of the gods, how could anything compare?
Nothing can compare. Nothing can even come close. We are trying, of course. My children are feasting, but without the nectar of our home, the food sits in our stomachs and rots. We are starving to death, Dr. Burton, full of food more excellent than you could ever dream of. You are killing us.
But you can make things right, Doctor, it is not too late! My children’s eyes are full of desperation, yes, but they have not gone dark yet. Request your boon and return what was taken, and whatever rage you’ve instilled in us will soon be eclipsed by relief.
But metanoia will not be a possibility for long, Dr. Burton. And I do not think you wish to experience the alternative.
My son died today.
The first thing he ever asked me for was a bow. He wanted so to have the skill of archery that his sister came to naturally. I will never forget the look of concentration in his eyes as he drew back the bow and fired and sent a gleaming shaft of light soaring past the target and over the hills, his mother and I laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and
The first sound he made was a laugh, I think.
My firstborn son, Apollo, my first sign that I could be something greater than my Father, my first true redemption.
The first thing that touched his lips was ambrosia.
My son starved to death today.
There is no rage left in me. Whatever is left is something new. I have boiled down all the wrath in my gut, it seems, to a solid core of something new. The hunger is rotting it.
You are going to rot too, Doctor Burton.
You are going to rot, Dotty Burton, and I will watch. My eyes are not what they once were, but the eagles still call me their god with pride in their voices, and I have seen you, Dotty Rhea Burton, I have seen your tiny, mortal little life play out from the beginning and it was nothing. Absolutely nothing. You have studied and read and worked your entire life to become something to do something and you will never achieve anything so important or so terrible as what you have done here in killing my
Fine.
Fine. As a show of good faith, I will give you your boon in advance.
I have decided, Dotty, in my infinite, divine, inimitable wisdom, that you no longer get to die. You no longer get to escape your pathetic scrap of an existence. Another way we are above you! Starving gods may take forever to die, but at least we get to die! Did you know I could do that? After what you took from us? Starving gods may take forever to die! But at least we get to die! You, your eyes, your hidden secret organs, the eagles will descend and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and peck and
My children are all dying, Doctor. My children are starving, Dotty Rhea Bruton, one by one by one, and I can see all, and I am watching it happen. I see everything there is to see and this is there to see and I am watching them die.
My mother's name was Rhea, you know. She would hide me from my father. She'd sing, she'd hum, run her hand through my hair, while my Father the King of All and One ripped my siblings to pieces with his teeth but they came back together why won't you come back? Wake up! I did what Father did! I bit you! I consumed you! I felt the ichor hit my tongue and there was that old familiar delicious taste but you still! Won't! Wake! Up! You defer to me! Death defers to me! I am the universe! I am all! I have tasted your skin and your nectarous blood and your ambrosial cells and
Please.
There is nothing left. They are gone. Where did they go? The Styx is not for us. We cannot cross. Where did they go? I've asked, but they won't answer.
My wife is dying.
My sister is dying.
My wife and my sister and the light of my world is a shell clutched to my chest and I cannot help her, I cannot tell her how I am alive, I cannot teach my love on her deathbed to repeat the crimes of our Father with the bodies of our children
Please.
I am a proud old god, but I will turn myself to dust if you relent. If you save her. It will happen either way, but you will be able to boast.
But you can already boast, can’t you? You're killed gods without raising a finger.
I'm humming her the tune, the one my Mother taught me to drown out the crunching sounds. I think it’s helping. I’ll teach it to you too.
Nothing is currently know about the original sender of the letters. However, given their evident association with SCP-XXXX, MTF Psi-29029 ("Alpine Echo") has been dispatched to the Pieria region of Greece along with 100 liters of SCP-XXXX-1 for the purpose of locating and recovering the author.
Addendum as of 2012-06-15:
The following letter was delivered this morning directly to Site Director Basil Myrmica. Unlike the previous correspondence, its envelope contained postage and a postmark dated 2012-06-04 giving the letter's origin as Crete. Delivery was heavily delayed due to the moderate illegibility of the address. A response team has been dispatched to its origin with another 100 liters of SCP-XXXX-1.
They're all gone now
Returned to where they came
They all came from me
Father to Earth to Father again
How is my handwriting? I have not written my own letters since
Iris is gone, to the same place as the others
Where did the others go
I'm going there too, I think
I came back to the start, looking for something
I was there before, where they went, I think
I was divine
But I've sucked the last phalange clean
And there's no ambrosia in the marrow (I've checked)
I miss my children
I miss my wife
I miss my Mother
I miss the laughter, before all this
I'm humming but it's not the same
I hope she understands
Addendum as of 2012-07-01:
Personnel of Site-66,
In light of recent events, I would like to clear up a misconception about the Foundation's goal.
We are not here, in fact, to mindlessly collect and placate everything even slightly out of the ordinary. Nor is our purpose to gain power and influence. Our mission, across the entire organization, is to maintain as livable a world as possible for as many people as possible. We secure and we contain, yes, but only in service to those we protect.
With that in mind, I would like to make something very clear. If you try to work around the Foundation's protocols in secrecy for some perceived great good, you are not being a hero. You are being a fool. The Foundation has a hell of a lot of experience when it comes to figuring out the best course of action to help people, and keeping information from the organization at large because you think you can do better will do nothing but cause unnecessary damage. And, hell, if you're already doing the right thing, the Foundation can probably do it faster and with a lot more manpower.
We are not cruel. We are not cold. We simply do what is necessary to keep the world from falling apart. If you can't tell the difference, then find a new line of work.
Dr. Myrmica
Site Director
Per 
