If you are a new author, please get your basic concepts polished up in the 
- Future Foundation: The Squeakuel
- Future Foundation
- Left Hanging
- The Aftermath of a Hateful Star
- That's Metal, Dude
- Part 2: Campfire Dreams
- Virulent Infohazard That I Still Have to Name
- An Issue of Perception
The Chaos Insurgency was having a very good day.
Marcus Austerion walked the halls as a hero. Their old, ragtag base had been replaced with a shiny new Foundation site, loaded with the latest technology and a vast array of… information to peruse.
And all I had to do was seduce some geezer and kill some fogies to get it.
There was a certain joy in being the boss. No longer was he at the beck and call of an old woman, having to spend the Insurgency's notably low budget on fancy gifts to please her. The respect is a nice touch too. For a time, he had been referred to as "Granny-lover Marcus", a decidedly uncreative nickname, but one that still stung nonetheless.
"Marcus, you're needed in the command center."
A wiry man, who had been acting as Marcus's assistant for the past few days notified him.
"Thank you John." Marcus responded, "I'll be right there."
The former council room, now the command center, had been cleaned of blood and bodies only a few hours ago, and the cleaning solution gave the room a nice lavender scent to mask the stench of death and gunshots. Two men sat, lightly bickering at the table. The man on the left, Dale O'Connor, was their unofficial treasurer. The man on the right, Kenneth Posely, preferred to speak on diplomatic affairs. Marcus himself acted as a de facto tactician, and if the situation called for it, general leader.
"What's the situation now?" Marcus asked, "We still have several days before the Universal Council reconvenes. Are we really having this much trouble securing key Sites in this backwater swamp planet?"
"To be frank, yes." Kenneth retorted, "They've noticed that all of their communication lines to us and to each other have been severed. At some point they'll find a way out of lockdown before we can take control of the Sites. We don't have the manpower-"
"Or the resources." interrupted Dale.
"Yes, or the resources, to fend off the entire Foundation, especially if they reach out to other planets."
"So, I'm assuming this means we haven't made any progress with 13, is that correct?" Marcus inquired.
"Ah, yes, I have been completely unable to coerce him to give the "all-clear" order." Kenneth sheepishly responded, "All attempts at torture have completely failed. We don't know what to do."
"They don't make Corvettes like they used to."
The neon lights of New Miami glimmered around an older woman, as she stood in front of a Corvette Z99. A man waits inside the car.
"Aww, I really thought you would like this kind of old-fashioned thing. People kept giving me weird looks, seeing me drive along the ground and all."
The door folded upwards, and the woman stepped in.
"Did you get this car imported from Earth just for me? What a gross misuse of your salary."
"Anything for you, baby."
"Don't talk to me like that with people around. You don't know who might be listening."
"I checked the car. No bugs. Ready to go?"
"Step on it."
The car squealed along the largely disused roads, the purple sky gleaming off of the sky-cars traveling above them, creating shadows on the ground as they blocked the sun. The car swerved to avoid costumed trick-or-treaters playing in the streets. O5-4 and her secretary were on their way to a meeting.
"Listen to this baby purr. You like it?" her secretary asked.
"A little new for my tastes, Marcus, but I appreciate you trying." O5-4 replied, "You didn't steal this did you?"
"Would I steal something and then take it to the most technologically advanced shadow government among shadow governments?"
"Honestly…"
"I'm offended that you would think that of me! I was going to give you this as a birthday present but I guess if you're going to be elitist about the classics…"
"I don't have a birthday, you're making things up."
Leaving the city, the car took a stop at a small side road, and Marcus tapped a button on the top of the car to open the garage to Site-δ-01. After parking the car, Marcus handed the keys to O5-4.
"Take it. Happy birthday."
"Thank you, honestly. No more affection or any more of your grand gestures, people will see."
O5-4 and Marcus parted ways, as O5-4 entered the meeting.
Marcus took a seat at his desk and sighed.
That car was fucking expensive. Hope it was worth it.
Marcus removed a device from a compartment under his desk, and connected an earbud in the ear turned away from the open door.
Can't risk typing any of this. Gotta do this the old fashioned way.
Retrieving a scratchpad from his desk, Marcus began to transcribe what he was hearing.
O5-1: We're all here? Good. Let's get this over with. O5-8, could you please give us a rundown of the situation?
O5-8: Of course. As many of you know already, members of the Universal Council are going to be inspecting us personally in just a few short hours, thus the emergency meeting. Apparently, our little planet is performing… unsatisfactorily to their tastes.
O5-7: Can't say I blame them. Five containment breaches just this week, and it's not even Friday.
O5-4: Please, 7, this situation is already difficult enough as it is. Please continue, 8.
O5-8: Thank you. Now, I cannot confirm this, but we believe that UO5-5, UO5-9, and UO5-10 will be coming here within an hour to do an inspection. They will be staying here. As such, all personnel who aren't in this room will be removed from the premises, and a thorough search of the premises is being conducted as we check for items that could endanger the well-being of the council-"
O5-3: Can we please just address the elephant in the room? Why are they coming here personally? They are the most powerful people in the universe, don't they have aides to send? What is so important here that they need to come to us themselves?"
O5-8: We…-
O5-1: To be frank, we don't know. This is completely unprecedented, but as far as any of us could check, its completely legitimate. They are coming to us themselves, and I think we have reason to take the utmost caution. Do not overstep your bounds with them. Our lives, and more importantly, our jobs may be at stake. Try not to embarrass us. Meeting adjourned.
Shit…
Marcus removed his earpiece and stowed his notes, just before O5-4 entered her office.
"How did it go?" Marcus inquired.
"Stressful. We need to prepare." O5-4 replied, collapsing in her chair, "Some powerful people are coming here to visit and we're either going to get commended for something we don't even know about, or more likely, about to get reprimanded to hell and back."
"Should… you be telling me about this, ma'am?"
"Don't call me ma'am. And it's fine, its almost at your clearance. I just need to look through the archives to see what they could possibly want here."
"Would… you like me to get you coffee? The good kind, not the shit Foundation office coffee?"
"That would be nice. Thank you Marcus."
"I need the keys. Y'know, to drive the car? I'll give it back, it's your gift, of course."
"Yes yes, here."
Marcus caught the keys tossed at him, and exited the site. Driving out, he parked a few miles away from the Site, and removed the key. Marcus removed the cover from the key.
The safety lock is still on. Nobody detected the bug. I got away with it.
Marcus collapsed in his seat and started laughing hysterically, before regaining his composure.
I can't push my luck here.
Marcus drove another mile and placed the paper transcript and the bug, removed from the key, under a rock.
Hopefully they pick up the drop box. I don't know how long we have before the Universal Council shows up.
Marcus got back in the car.
"You are now arriving at: Planet Pike. Enjoy your stay!"
The jumpship arrived in the New Miami Private Terminal, and a security detail rushed to greet them. A luxury skycar took the three council members, along with their private security detail, and rushed them towards Site-δ-01. In the distance, a red Corvette drives into another garage shortly before the skycar…
"I got your coffee!" Marcus yells into the office.
"You are a godsend." O5-4 replies, grabbing the coffee from Marcus, "What took you so long?"
"You know how bad the lines are there. They even messed up my name."
"So it would seem. How do you get Magnum from Marcus?"
"You ask nicely."
As O5-4 stifled a rare laugh, she got an alert that the Universal Council has arrived. She quickly shoved Marcus into her panic room.
"I'm sorry, I forgot to say, you can't be here!" she whispers, "Please, I need you to be quiet down here until they leave. There should be provisions down there for you, in the event I can't sneak you out. Please, just don't try to leave by yourself."
Without waiting for a response, O5-4 rushed out to greet the Universal Council.
Good, I timed that right. Now, to wait for the-
Marcus's communicator pinged him.
…signal.
Marcus snuck out of the panic room.
It's almost hard for UO5-10 not to laugh, looking at the ragtag O5 Council before him.
So this is what the Foundation looks like in a backwater trash planet. They're barely keeping their composure.
"Do you have any place more… suitable for a meeting?" UO5-9 asks.
"W-" One council member stutters and clears his throat, "We have a council room that we restructured for this. Please, follow me."
Pathetic.
The halls of Site-δ-01 were silent as Marcus snuck to the security center. A single guard stood in his way. Marcus swiftly got behind him and snapped his neck in one satisfying crack, and stole the man's stun rod and pistol. Waving the ID card at the door, Marcus checked the security room.
Empty. As I thought. They were so paranoid of their staff that they only guarded exits. Pathetic.
Marcus sat at the terminal and unlocked a side garage…
"Please, you can be more comfortable around us, we aren't going to kill you or anything." UO5-5 stated plainly.
"I'm going to get right to the point." UO5-9 interrupted, "We have evidence to suggest that the last remnants of several GoIs that are… hostile, to say the least, to the Foundation as a whole. We also believe that the recent… deficiencies in how well you contain anomalies is connected to this."
"I see." O5-1 muttered.
"How many anomalies have broken containment and are still loose in the last year or so?" UO5-10 inquired.
"We currently have eight anomalies on the loose, and have not resurfaced at all since their escape." O5-4 submitted. "Thus, we believe they accidentally self-neutralized, most likely due to injuries sustained during their escapes."
"And… you never recovered these bodies?"
"…no, we did not."
Oh boy…
A combat unit roams the halls of Site-δ-01. They move swiftly and silently, dispatching any guards as they see them. A man named Marcus Austerion meets them. They head to the council room.
"Do you believe that any GoI may have contained your anomal-"
UO5-10 is interrupted by a knock at the door. One of the Universal Council's private guard answers it. An average-looking man stands behind it.
"Marcus!" O5-4 shouts, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Something is wrong here, all of the guards are gone, this place is a ghost town! What's going on here!"
"Someone get this man out out of here and amnestize him, we need to get on with this." O5-10 commands.
"Wait I'm so sorry, I'll get out of here."
"Grab hi-"
Marcus dropped to the ground as the flashbang he had rolled exploded in a flash of light. A second grenade dropped, and Marcus put on the gas mask he had held behind him.
"Alert! Intruders are attacking the UO5 council, send bac-"
Marcus pistol whipped the guard.
"Nobody is coming friend. Your ship is disabled and communications have been severed. We're in control now."
O5-4 woke up. The Pike O5 Council and the Universal Council were strapped to their chairs, the council room destroyed and their guards dead on the ground. A gun is trained to each of their foreheads. Marcus personally trained a gun at O5-4.
"Welcome to the New Universal Order so to speak. I'm going to make this brief, we waited until you woke up for the sake of bravado. In short, you'll be working for us now. Don't try to speak, otherwise we will be a little more… rough with the surgery."
"What's your little plan here?" O5-10 spat, "They'll just replace us. It doesn't matter."
Marcus whipped around and smacked him aside the head with his pistol.
"Told you, you shouldn't have talked. Now, you're clearly alive of course, so that isn't an issue. After a bit of… neuroscience per say, you can just go home. But, luckily for you, my little Pike council, you don't need that kind of surgery. We just kept you alive to have more people to monologue to."
"Marcus, no, please." O5-4 cried.
"Don't fucking talk! How hard is it?"
Marcus retrained the gun on O5-4's forehead.
"Fire!"
The Pike O5 Council slumped in their chairs, blood spattering the wall. A slight flicker of fear flared in the eyes of the Universal Council members.
"Get the anomaly."
The sun rose on the horizon of Pike. The shadows made by the trees seemed to project a Red Right Hand over Site-δ-01. A ship exits New Miami Private airport, headed for the Universal Council. Marcus smiles, watching it disappear into the great abyss of space.
SCP #: SCP-55555-J
Object Class: Apollyon
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-55555-J is uncontainable, and considered very dangerous. Any Foundation personnel who witness Ritual Omicron-Beta-Zeta-5 remaining incomplete must complete the Ritual as soon as possible. Foundation Personnel should avoid unnecessarily starting Ritual Omicron-Beta-Zeta-5 or risk SCP-55555-J infection.
Description: SCP-55555-J is the designation for an anomaly that manifests after an incomplete Ritual Omicron-Beta-Zeta-5, when two or more people are present. SCP-55555-J manifests as a mixture of extreme rage and clinical depression, the ratio depending on the infected person. This state only lasts approximately five minutes, but can lead to incidents of moping, assault, suicide, and mass murder.
Completion of Ritual Omicron Beta-Zeta-5 is tantamount to maintaining containment of SCP-55555, thus all Foundation Personnel are required to take a crash course in completing Ritual Omicron-Beta-Zeta-5 before entering any Foundation Site. The instructions go as follows:
One: Recognizing an Incomplete Ritual Omicron-Beta-Zeta-5
When entering any room, both inside and outside of a Foundation Site, personnel are encouraged to scan the room for any of the following signs of an incomplete Ritual. Such signs include:
1. A raised hand
2. Staring at somebody, waiting for something
3. If you are in earshot, usually an Incomplete Ritual involves a preceding joke that falls flat
4. A look of increasing sadness/frustration
Two: Completing the Ritual
When you have found an Incomplete Ritual, you must complete the following steps, in a timely fashion:
1. Move over to the person who has not yet completed the Ritual
2. Let your body language show that you wish to complete the Ritual, this can buy you more time to complete it
3. Contact your hand sharply with the other persons hand
4. (Optional) Compliment the person on their joke, so the Ritual isn't seen as "sarcasm"
Three: Things to Never Do
When completing a Ritual, make sure you do not do any of the following things:
1. Indicate that you wish to complete the Ritual, and end up not completing it
2. Do the Ritual with very little enthusiasm or joy. This can make the subject believe you are making fun of them
3. Do the Ritual in an unsatisfying way, you'll know you have done it right if you hear a satisfying "crack" noise
If you do any of the things on list three, the Ritual will fail and the instance will be worsened. This event is called Event Omicron-Beta-Zeta-Alpha-Omega-5. Event Omicron-Beta-Zeta-Alpha-Omega-5 is a worsening of the aforementioned effect of SCP-55555-J. This event may lead to a want for the complete destruction of humankind for up to an hour after the Event starts. This is notably dangerous in Foundation Sites, as Site Personnel may have the means to do such that. By this merit, extra care must be taken in Foundation Sites, and anybody who allows a Ritual to be "left hanging" will be suspended for no less than two weeks.
placeholder
Lady Liberty floats in the waters next to a smoldering Manhattan, as the Foundation watches through a tattered veil of secrecy.
Site-764 is the only part of the city left. A few hundred feet underneath of the New York Metro, the Site was untouched. Site Director Holt sits at his desk as his advisor enters the room.
“What is the situation?” the stern Director asks, “Do we have any communication to the outside?”
“No sir. All comms are shut down.” The young advisor tells him “The energy from the blast is interfering with any and all methods of communication we might’ve had.”
“Unfortunate. What is the damage?”
“The Site has taken only minor damage, and all anomalies are still contained.”
“I meant outside. What did we lose out there?”
“Um, sorry sir. All of New York City, and some of the surrounding area. There doesn’t appear to be any radiation, but as stated, something is interfering with our communications.”
“Mhm. Send rescue teams out to bring survivors here.”
“I’m… sorry sir? No disrespect meant, we can’t do that.”
“Why not? I thought there was no radiation.”
“We have spotted hundreds of demonic entities outside but—“
“So arm the rescue teams. This is what we train them for.”
“But sir, with all due respect, we can’t just bring non-Foundation personnel to a site! We could be executed!”
“The entirety of Manhattan just got anomalously destroyed, and what you’re worried about is the fucking veil? I’ll go out there myself if I have to, but get people back here. If we all get out of this alive we can say we were experimenting on them or something. Now, relay this order or I’ll go relay it myself.”
“Uh, yes sir, right away sir.”
As the young advisor sprinted out of the door, James Holt pressed the intercom button on his desk.
“Phillips, Raymond, and Cooper, please come to my office as soon as possible.”
Robbie Cooper entered the office, followed shortly after by Clay Raymond and Clark Phillips.
“Why were we called here, sir?” the ever-professional Cooper asks.
“Yeah, Site Director Holt, I thought your ass-kicking days were over.” replies a grinning Phillips.
“Maybe not. All I know is that this is a completely morally unambiguous way to get back to the good old days of ripping monsters apart with an assload of guns and my bare hands. I would ask if you’re fine to do this but you have to be because I can give orders now.”
“You’re the boss now, Holt. Just don’t do anything stupid.” admonishes Raymond.
“When have I ever done something stupid? Now grab your gear, I hear it’s pretty ugly up there.”
————
Provisional MTF-Epsilon-20 (“Old-Timers”) exited the safety of Site-764. The four members were decked out with an almost excessive amount of guns and explosives.
“So where to first? The surface?” Raymond asks over the microphone.
“From what I understand, nothing could survive up there.” Holt replies, “We’ll check the subways. If we’re lucky, the ground sheltered them from the blast.”
“The tunnels may have collapsed.” Cooper advises. “I’ll lead to prepare explosive charges.”
“Fair enough but I call explosives duty next time.” Phillips mocks, “You’re never creative enough with those.”
“If we’re lucky, and the other MTFs do their job, we won’t need a next time.” Holt admonishes, “Now, radio chatter down. And stick together, something is interfering with our communications and we need to stay in range of each other.”
The four men went silent as they followed the tunnel to the subway system. As they exit the fake maintenance door, the normally humming subway system has gone silent.
“I don’t hear anything.” Cooper observes. “I think the trains aren’t running.”
“Fantastic observation, Cooper!” mocks Phillips, “Holt, you didn’t tell me we hired Sherlock Fucking Holmes!”
“Don’t be a smartass, Phillips.” Cooper retorts.
“Ooooooh, that was a bad word! I didn’t know you had it in you, Coop! I’m gonna tell Holt on you.”
“How can you both be over 40 and still act like children?” Holt scolds.
“Time and place too.” Raymond tags in, “New York has exploded and gotten infested with extranormal entities and you’re mocking each other. Get it together.”
“Sorry Mama Holt and Papa Raymond, won’t happen again.” replies Phillips.
“You know what—“
Holt cuts Raymond off.
“All of you shut it. There’s something at our 9 o’clock.”
The task force turned to see what looked like a pile of flesh.
**Item #: SCP-R0CK-J
Object Class: Safe Neutralized Keter
Special Containment Procedures:Provisional Site-R0CK has been constructed around the area previously known as Morne's Center for the performing arts in █████, Florida. Personnel are encouraged to attend event "Rock of Ages", in the interior of Provisional Site-R0CK, and immediately after, proceed to research centers for debriefing. Site-R0CK is open to approved personnel for scheduled events, such as weddings, proposals, funerals, large office parties, and children's birthday parties.
Provisional Site-R0CK is closed to the public. Fans of SCP-R0CK-J ("Heavy Metal") can submit to Foundation psychologists for grief counseling.
##|blue|
[[tab a biiiiiiiig box]]
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: Provisional Site-XXXX has been constructed around SCP-XXXX due to the anomaly being immovable. SCP-XXXX is only to be interacted with remotely, due to the life-threatening contents of the anomaly. Although everything that will ever be placed inside of SCP-XXXX is already within SCP-XXXX, personnel are not to place objects within SCP-XXXX without full Site Director approval.
The room constructed around SCP-XXXX is to remain vacuum-sealed whenever possible, and additions to Site-XXXX are not to be underneath, above, or within 300 meters of SCP-XXXX. The 50 x 50 meter titanium room will never need to be expanded due to the anomaly’s nature.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a 5 x 5 meter box inscribed with sigils and runes of Daevic origin. SCP-XXXX rests suspended in the air approximately 3 meters off of the ground. SCP-XXXX is unable to be moved in any way, even slightly. The only sections able to be moved on the anomaly are a top cover and a bottom cover.
Opening the top cover of the anomaly reveals that it appears to be empty, and item(s) can be placed within it. When the box is closed, and then reopened, the box appears to be empty again.
The bottom cover of the box, when opened, empties the entire contents of the box onto the ground beneath it.
The anomaly exists throughout all of time within the exact location it currently exists in. It contains everything that ever has and ever will be placed within the anomaly. Logically speaking, anything that is not in the anomaly will never be inside of the anomaly due to its nature. All attempts to do so have failed (See Addendum XXXX.2)
Addendum XXXX.1: Contents of SCP-XXXX
One toothbrush belonging to the late father of Site Director Fender.
Three different teddy bears.
One crowbar.
One Foundation-standard Site-XXXX Site Director badge belonging to Dr. Aleksandr (Note: Dr. Aleksandr does not work in Site-XXXX nor is he a Site Director anywhere).
Thirty-six bear claws inscribed with Daevic runes.
Four annotated copies of War and Peace by four separate annotators.
Three left feet, all of which belong to Site Director Fender.
Approximately twotons of assorted dust, sand, and rocks, all dating back to different periods.
Seven fertilized Eoraptor eggs (Sent to the Site-563 dinosaur pens for cataloging and study).
Several members of Lambda-9 (“Big Fucking Guns”).
One box set of every episode of Monk on VCR, with the second season missing.
Nine devices of unknown make, model, and format. Testing has indicated that these are storage devices with files in a format currently unreadable.
Three sports almanacs from 1986, 2005, and 2021.
The anomalous acid, SCP-████.
Addendum XXXX.2: Testing Logs
Subject:
A loose congregation of Texans sat around a burning gasoline fire. An exposed fuselage dripping into a puddle of hard earned gasoline had been lit to counteract the cold, dark night. The five men sat around their freshly lit gasoline fire tending to their wounds.
"We ain't going to talk about this?" Louis Anna grumbled, wounded head in hands, "Perkins almost killed us there."
"'Tain't nothin' to talk about. I just fucked up" Brother Perkins said.
"Who the fuck does coke while driving an RV? What kinda dumb shit are you on?"
"Look, I said I'm sorry, and I ain't gonna do it again, except for communion or whatever."
"Oh and I'm sure it was also such a good idea to almost call the fuckin' cops! Are you stupid or somethin'?"
"Both of you, shut the hell up! We don't need none of this right now." Brother Jones exclaimed. "Can we just talk about somethin' else. Shits depressing enough already."
"Yeah, sure, fine. Miller, you up? What the hell went on with you?" Father Anna inquired, "What does 'one more' mean? There's five of us already, why would we need more?"
"Fuck if I know." Brother Miller groaned, "Maybe they don't like one of us or some dumb shit. Or maybe they like the number six but that don't seem likely neither."
"What they?" Brother Hines asked, "This some heresy shit? Louis only taught us about one thing."
"I wanna know too." Father Anna said suspiciously, "I'm pretty sure we only got one god, we ain't polygamists."
"Don't you mean polytheism?" Brother Perkins asked from across the fire, "Polygamy is that thing where you marry multiple people or whatever."
"Shut up Perkins, you're in enough trouble already without correctifyin' my grammar."
"Well, I had one of those dream things where it feels like you're there or some shit." Brother Miller said, "I was actually gonna ask if you laced my coke with some dumb LSD shit cause that was wild."
"Nah I didn't, don't accuse me of sullyin' the communion. What did you see?"
"Well, I saw these weird things, they looked like these giant crocodiles with tentacles or some shit. Five tentacles to be exact. They just kind of looked at me. Didn't see any of them Starfish things you was talkin' about though."
"Tell me everything, I want to know what it— if it aligns to my visions I mean."
"Well—"
Miller was interrupted by the sight of headlights slowly descending the hill that they had previously fallen down. The car rolled to a stop and the blinding headlights flickered off, revealing a rusty pickup truck, with one inhabitant. The car door was forcibly shoved open, seemingly with enough force to tear the door right off. The hulking figure of a musclebound woman stepped out, visibly shaking the large truck.
"COUSIN' ANDREA!"
Brother Jones leapt to his feet and ran at the intimidating woman. The woman allowed the hug for no more than a second before shoving the small man away.
"Guys, this is my cousin Andrea Day. She gon' transport us back home. She got us a big car ta' put our sorry asses in. Grab anything you can from the RV, and load it in."
Louis Anna looked around confusedly, watching his church stuff their paltry belongings into the large truck.
"Are we all just… giving up?" Louis Anna mumbled, barely loud enough for everyone to hear him, "Is this the end of our church?"
"Well, this whole church thing was never really that
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Victims of SCP-XXXX are to be immediately sedated and brought to the nearest Foundation surgeon for a cordectomy1. Staff in Site-3005 are not to enter Wing Six2 without use of industrial grade earplugs.
SCP-XXXX victims are approved for high-class antimemetics upon request, provided that they are within safe amounts, and that SCP-XXXX has not passed into its fourth phase. Writing does not spread SCP-XXXX but is still prone to the effects.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a virulent memetic infohazard which inserts itself into memories when the victim is relaying a memory to someone else. The infohazard spreads when any verbal relaying of memories happens between a victim of SCP-XXXX and the uninfected. SCP-XXXX has been described as an unnamed five or six year old girl, typically wearing blue overalls. SCP-XXXX infection happens in four distinct phases.
Phase One entails SCP-XXXX appearing as a recurring character in every story that an SCP-XXXX victim tells. Victims tend to believe that SCP-XXXX was at the event that they are describing, but do not recall them having any significance in their life. Victims tend to express confusion when the character recurs in every other story told.
Phase Two entails SCP-XXXX replacing the most significant person (or in cases where this does not apply, objects or animals) in stories. Effects similar to Phase One manifest in cases wherein no living person is involved other than the victim, in which SCP-XXXX will appear in a random location within the story. Victims are almost always aware that the character is incorrectly placed in the story but are incapable of remembering who was originally there.
Addendum XXXX.1: Small, censored snippet of SCP-XXXX Phase Two affected story
My mom had always been the one who took care of me. [POSSIBLE COGNITOHAZARD DELETED] was not out of the picture but she3 was usually out drinking with her friends. My mom would always say, "Your daddy really does love you." but I never really believed that. When I was five, she stumbled into my room, piss drunk, with a disgusting smell emanating from her overalls, and he took me away…
Addendum XXXX.2: Interview with Phase Two Victim
D-18476: Hey, so I'm just going to need you to answer some of the questions I have on this paper. Is that okay?
SCP-XXXX-P2: Is this a punishment for the weird thing that happened in the thing you told me to write down? That wasn't my fault, I don't know why that happened..
D-18476: No, that's actually what I was going to ask you about. Who was that character originally supposed to be?
SCP-XXXX-P2: I guess it must have been my dad or something, from rereading what I wrote. I cant remember him very well though.
D-18476: Your record here says that you lived with your father.
SCP-XXXX-P2: No, I… don't think I did? I lived with my
D-18476: Who?
SCP-XXXX-P2: My
D-18476: Uhh, guys, I think something is weird here.
SCP-XXXX-P2: [POSSIBLE COGNITOHAZARD DELETED]
Phase Three entails every living thing in the memory of a victim being replaced by the anomaly. Victims are always aware of this fact, and express distress when attempting to recall events and failing to correctly remember who was involved.
Addendum XXXX.3: Interview with Phase 3 Victim
D-19647: Hey, uhh, could you just… write down the answers to the questions I am telling you?
SCP-XXXX-P3: Yes, that is permissible. I know what this anomaly is.
D-19647: What?
SCP-XXXX-P3: Did they not tell you? I was a researcher assigned to this anomaly. I don't understand why they are forcing the formalities. What is your first question?
D-19647: Uhh, okay. Have you noticed any shifts in your memory?
SCP-XXXX-P3: Yes. I believe I am in the third phase of infection. Whenever I'm not looking at you and I try to remember who you are, I see the entity related to SCP-XXXX.
D-19647: Oh. What does this entity look like?
SCP-XXXX-P3: It seems to be a young, blonde girl, no more than 7, wearing a striped shirt and overalls typically. Occasionally it mirrors the clothing of the people in my memories.
D-19647: Could you give an example?
SCP-XXXX-P3: Yes, it wore a striped dress when it was impersonating my…
D-19647: Your what?
SCP-XXXX-P3: Never mind. Could you leave me be please? For my supervisors reading this, I am submitting a formal request for termination. I know you already have P4's locked in here, you don't need me going that far.
Phase Four is the final stage of infection, and entails victims believing that they are SCP-XXXX. As in previous phases, victims are aware that there is something wrong, but are unable to explain the difference between themselves and SCP-XXXX. Approximately eighty percent of victims attempt self-harm during this phase. Full conversion occurs between one and three months of Phase Four exposure, and victims completely believe they are SCP-XXXX, losing the ability to read and write.
Addendum XXXX.3: Video Log of Phase 4 Victim
02:56: Subject is shown playing with food instead of eating it.
03:01: //Subject becomes disinterested with food and begins playing with the cell's pen and paper.
03:06: Subject begins running arm down piece of paper, attempting to draw blood.
03:07: Subject stabs self in leg with pen.
03:08: Subject is detained and given medical attention.
04:36: Subject is returned to room.
04:46: Subject begins eating food.
04:50: Subject shoves face in mashed potatoes.
04:52: Subject is detained again and given CPR.
04:54: Subject regains ability to breathe.
Addendum XXXX.4: Interview with Full Conversion Victim
D-17647: So, I'm just going to ask you a few questions. You can talk right?
SCP-XXXX: Yep! Wanna hear a story?
D-17647: Not right now. What's your name?
SCP-XXXX: Dunno, nobody told me. I'm bored.
D-17647: Sorry, I'll try to make this as fast as possible… wait, where are you going?
SCP-XXXX begins playing with a train set.
SCP-XXXX: You can still talk, I just want to play with Mr. Train. Want to know where I got him?
D-17647: Uhh, no. Do you spread by telling stories?
SCP-XXXX: I don't understand. The nicer girl behind the counter gave me this because I was good. I think her name was [COGNITOHAZARD DELETED].
D-17647: Guys, can I end this interview please?SCP-XXXX: Aww man, everyone always wants to leave here. You're just like that last guy, [COGNITOHAZARD DELETED].
D-17647: Let me out, please!
SCP-XXXX and D-17647 are both sedated and D-17647 is wheeled to the surgery room for a cordectomy.
[[collapsible show="Notes and all that jazz" hide="Access Granted"]]
Thank you for reading! Thank you to redd,
Renasanse,
Captain Kirby, and
Drblackbox for critting! Credit to
Phantom for the name. A huge thanks to
aconfusedfish for kind of just hanging out while I came up with my name and demanding to be put in the author post.
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Euclid
The entrance to Area 92. A temple has been placed in front of the cave to block entry to tourists who may be in the region.
Special Containment Procedures: The fire within SCP-XXXX is to remain lit at all times. A camera positioned behind SCP-XXXX-1 is to provide an ongoing, live feed to staff at Area 92, and motion trackers set up around the Area are to be constantly monitored. Foundation personnel are not to enter SCP-XXXX unless testing under secure circumstances. Foundation personnel are not to make themselves known to SCP-XXXX-1 in any circumstance barring containment breach.
In the event of a containment breach, all available personnel are to attempt to sedate SCP-XXXX-1 to prevent an CK-Class Restructuring Event. After sedation, SCP-XXXX-1 is to be administered a Class-B amnestic and receive medical attention. SCP-XXXX-1 must be returned to its cave following a brief medical examination.
Description: SCP-XXXX-1 instances resemble extremely elderly Greek men. Documents suggest SCP-XXXX-1 instances are approximately 3,000 years old. SCP-XXXX-1 instances are presumed to possess reality bending abilities, and are believed to exist between our reality and their own perception of reality. SCP-XXXX-1A, and 1B have never been observed by the Foundation but historical records and the extra chairs suggest they exist.
SCP-XXXX is a cave in the Attica region of Greece. Within the cave are three seats with shackles, two of which are broken, as well as a bonfire behind the chairs. The sides of the seats make SCP-XXXX-1 instances unable to see anything other than directly in front of it. The first two seats are uninhabited
SCP-XXXX displays anomalous properties wherein objects that cannot be physically observed cast a shadow on the wall of the cave. SCP-XXXX-1's shadows are capable of interacting with the anomalous shadows. In 72% of cases, SCP-XXXX-1's shadows are seen moving without a correlating motion from SCP-XXXX-1.
The top priority of all operations must be maintaining the fiction that no reality exists beyond the wall.
Addendum XXXX.1: A Translation of Glaucon's4 Letter to Plato
Letter 1: Three prisoners have been selected, one from Athens, and two from Sparta. They have been chosen due to their differing wit, as I assume the Spartans will succumb to their punishment first. Your letters have inspired me to make this my life's task, and if I am being honest, I believe this thought experiment is just that, a thought.
I have gained assistance from several students in the setting of the cave. We have selected a cave near Agropolia for my purposes. Stelios has proven to be quite brilliant in ensuring the experiments success, designing several of the machinations that I myself would prefer to take credit for. On his behalf, I implore you to take him as a student, for I believe his mind is brighter than even yours. We plan to begin the experiment at dawn in two weeks, regardless of your attendance.Letter 2: I am disappointed that you did not attend the moving of the prisoners. I suppose maths are more interesting than the success of your own brother. Stelios has pressured me to send you this letter, and if you can do anything for me to make up for your transgressions, let it be to retake Stelios as a student. While he is extremely bright, his ideas are… unorthodox, and I am unable to soothe his mind of this.
Letter 3: I kindly ask you to come here, as I require some… assistance in dealing with Stelios. I know not his means, but it appears that the prisoners are unable to starve. The cave has been sealed for weeks, with no man entering it, yet when I came to remove the bodies, I found them alive and well. One would hardly know that they live though, they seem to just stare at the cave wall. You may think me a fool but I swear the shadows move in that cave. Please come, and speak to your former student, as my pressuring for his methods have been fruitless.
Addendum XXXX.2: Testing Log
Test: Wilson™ brand volleyball placed motionless in front of bonfire.
Result: SCP-XXXX-1's shadow picks up the ball, which appears to be significantly heavier than the original volleyball. When the volleyball is moved, its shadow remains for approximately five hours.
Researcher's Note: If I was to guess what happened here, the ball must have been interpreted as a rock. We should probably be more clear about what something's outline is.
Test: Metal outline of a dog.
Result: Shadow is immobile. SCP-XXXX-1 again shows difficulty picking up the shadow.
Researcher's Note: Next time, try using something it would understand. I don't know how many Dachshunds were running around in ancient Greece.
Test: Small model of a horse.
Result: Shadow begins galloping in a gait similar to a horse's. SCP-XXXX-1 appears distressed for approximately ten minutes before beginning to interact with the shadow. After an hour, SCP-XXXX-1 begins interacting with a random shadow originating from an unknown source, in which it accidentally steps on the horse shadow.
Researcher's Note: Testing approved for more irregular shadows.
Test: Hand shadow puppet of a butterfly.
Result: Shadow appears to be a butterfly. After becoming bored with interaction, SCP-XXXX-1's shadow crushes the butterfly. Puppeteer's hand crumples into a ball shape and begins bleeding profusely.
Researcher's Note: D-18932 had to have his hand amputated due to how broken it was. Human testing is temporarily disallowed.
Test: Kabuki-style demon mask faced sideways.
Result: Shadow appears as a dark mask with a lightly shaded outline in a vulture-like fashion encompassing the area where a body should be. SCP-XXXX-1 is distressed and suffers cardiac arrest. Foundation medical team successfully revives the instance.
Researcher's Note: O5 would have our collective behinds if we managed to kill an anomaly of this magnitude. Please refrain from causing unnecessary distress to SCP-XXXX-1. As per the recent incident, please leave SCP-XXXX-1's line of sight upon awakening, regardless of any other circumstances.
Addendum XXXX.3: Incident Reports - 8/30/02-4/17/03
8/30/02: While reviving SCP-XXXX-1, Medical Personnel Thomas Hughes passed within the line of sight of SCP-XXXX-1 and seemingly disappeared. SCP-XXXX-1 appeared slightly distressed but unharmed. Investigation as to the location and continued existence of Thomas Hughes is ongoing. Foundation Personnel are reminded to avoid interaction and to stay out of the line of sight of SCP-XXXX-1.
10/21/02: During a non-testing period, a badger entered Area 92 from a previously unknown small opening. When passing in front of SCP-XXXX-1, the badger disappeared in a way described as "Being swallowed up by shadow" by Dr. Calvin Hobbes. This is markedly similar to the 8/30 incident involving Medical Personnel Thomas Hughes. All personnel are required to hold long-range trackers at all times while in Area 92, for the purposes of research and recovery.
4/17/03: An intruder entered Area 92 during an inactive testing period and attempted to gain access to SCP-XXXX-1. The intruder was spotted and was tackled by Foundation Security Guard Stephanie Diaz. Both her and the intruder passed within the line of sight of SCP-XXXX-1, and disappeared. Testing has not yet been approved for this phenomenon. Diaz's tracker registered being in several hundred areas around the world at the exact same time for a millisecond.
Addendum XXXX.4: Foundation Memo
The city of Agropolia does not, and never has existed to public knowledge. Any classical era document describing disappearing cities5 is to be held within the Foundation archives. Please report any mention of Agropolia, or any other reality bending incidents around Foundation Area 92 to the Disinformation Bureau for censorship.
- Mainlist
- Obituary for the Immortal
- ICSUT - Stallmantic, DrChandra
- Project Sensuikan
- V1L3 Collab
- Part 1: On The Road Again
- A VILE Machine
- Recruiting
- Author Page
- Day 3: On a Dark and Stormy Night... it was Raining and Pouring.
- Here Be Monsters
These are my mainlists
I am super proud of them
Read them as you wish
Humans were never meant to live as long as O5-13.
Turtle is supposed to live this long. I could be a turtle man.
A rare smile crept across the usually sullen face of -13. The man nearly attempted to hide the smile before realizing that he was alone. No more hiding. There would be no use anyway. Something had changed. -13 was not sure what it was yet, but something was different. The ache in his bones had subsided, a rare occurrence. -13 hadn't felt so good in years.
Every fiber of his being told him that he was sitting on a familiar beach. But of course that was impossible. -13 hadn't sat on a beach for as long as he could remember.
A childhood memory?
No, impossible, and if it was the case, he was going to need to make a call to up the dose of the antimemetic cocktail he made for himself everyday. "An O5 must have no past, and must always look to the future." They had agreed on that when they made the creed with each other.
O5-13 took a long sip of the vodka he didn't realize he was holding. A flood of memories washed over him with every sip, drinking with friends in college, taking a swift, teasing sip of a drink held by some lady friend of his, spluttering all over the table when his father had introduced him to the drink. -13 closed his eyes and attempted to think of his father. What had previously been a blank slate had been replaced with a strong, tall Russian man, an intimidating frame, other than his hard but caring eyes.
-13 tried to take another sip, only to come up empty.
No matter.
His childhood had come back to him. Living with his father, many times in poverty, but never in sadness. No mother. Possibly dead? Didn't matter. The brief distraction had been nice, but O5-13 still did not understand his situation. Standing up, he moved towards the crashing waves of the beach. As he approached, the waters calmed, and seemed to freeze. A tentative step onto the water revealed that he was able to walk on it, despite small shoals still popping up around him.
The sunset was ahead of him. With nowhere else to go, he stepped forwards. The sun got larger as he approached, like a backdrop on a painted set. He moved forwards until the rest of the pink sky had disappeared, leaving only the yellow of the sun. -13 stuck his hands out towards the yellow, revealing that it was also solid. A sliver of silver caught his eye, and he noticed a doorknob.
Twisting the door open, O5-13 stepped into the sun.
O5-13 walked down a set of stairs in what seemed to be an airport. Everyone around him spoke English, a language he was somewhat unfamiliar with. Several people waited at the bottom of the stairs with signs. Scanning the signs he picked out the only one in Russian.
Добро пожаловать Врац ██████
-13 could not tell what name was on the sign, just that it was his. Attempting to look at the sign gave him a headache. The man with the sign lit up with recognition upon seeing -13 descending the stairs.
"My name is Dr. Misha Pajitnov." said the man in perfect Russian, "I attended one of your lectures on parapsychology before I got transferred to an American site. You have done wonderful work."
"Thank you, but could I see some identification?" -13 responded somewhat curtly, "I didn't live this long in my line of work by getting into cars with people who just claim to know me."
Dr. Pajitnov handed a piece of paper with an order from the Site Director and an ID badge. As -13 looked at the paper, it transformed in front of his eyes, as the scenery changed from a grungy airport to some sort of lab. The documentation regarding his processing to a new Site had been transformed into a research paper. A door opened behind him.
"Still writing?"
A man younger than he, yet his superior, stood in the doorway.
"Doctor Buchanan, what a surprise to see you here so late." -13 asked bemusedly, "When do you usually leave? Four hours early or five?"
"You got me there. Site Director privilege I guess. Come with us, we're getting drinks. Leave the papers to the Junior Researchers."
"Can't. Working. Too many anomalies, too little time."
"You'll burn yourself out this way. When was the last time you had a drink?"
"Years. Don't plan on drinking again. Too much money to just waste time."
"Well if you change your mind, pretty much everybody will be down the road. I guess you'll be hanging out with Site security again tonight."
"I like them. They don't talk as much as you."
"Cheeky. I could fire you at any time you know."
"You wont. You like me too much."
The young man rejoined the other researchers, and finally left -13 alone. O5-13 turned back to his previous paper.
OFFICIAL O5 SUMMONS
Looking up from the paper, -13 found himself in a conference room with several other people.
"What was I called here for?" -13 asked, concernedly, "Is there an issue?"
"We… have had some issues with your home country." the man at the end of the table asked, "We do not display the members of the O5 council to everybody, and unfortunately our member from the Soviet Union has passed. We need you on this council or we risk… complications."
"Forgive me for my rudeness but am I to assume that I have been some sort of back-up all along?"
"Don't flatter yourself." a woman two seats away from him said, "We have had several other candidates. However, you outperformed the others, so congratulations. Welcome to the O5 council."
"Is that… it? Do I get a choice?"
"Of course. You can refuse and pass up a chance to alter the fate of the entire world, but you wouldn't make our decisions harder would you?"
"I like my Site though. I have a lot of work going on there. The people are good."
"How naïve. Security, please take him to get amnestized."
"Is this necessary? I don't even know where I am right now and I'm sure I'll forget your faces."
"Do you think we got this far by being careless? Could you please take him to room 13?"
"Yes ma'am. Standard or special?"
"Special please. This man is very important."
-13 was escorted to Amnestization Room 13, and placed into a chair with straps. The straps were placed around his wrists and ankles rather roughly.
"Whats the order?" the woman asked over the intercom.
"Special order, no past, when he wakes up, tell him about his job and such."
"Gotcha."
"What do you mean? She said to just clear the last day or so. Hello?"
As the first syringe went in, the room around him became the conference room he was in earlier. He sits in his chair and waits.
Another day, goes by, this time he has to resolve a tie. He waits more
His skin grows wrinkled and gray. He grows older, usually sitting in a chair, waiting to have to make a decision.
They give him a treatment so he ages back a bit. The mind stays old but the body becomes new. He sits in the chair and waits.
A snapshot of his decisions over the measure of seconds. He ages forwards, sometimes backwards, sitting in a chair, just waiting until he has to make a hard choice.
He makes a decision to make himself immortal. Wasn't even a difficult decision, or a tiebreaker like it tended to be. A unanimous vote to escape death's cold grasp.
And eventually, the chair he sits in is a beach chair, with a vodka in his hand, older than he has ever been, but feeling as young as can be.
I imagine I should wake up sometime soon. Would be nice to stay here a bit longer though. Does this happen every night?
The area around his periphery darkened, moving in gradually.
My name is-
His thoughts were interrupted by the dark finally closing around his vision.The last thing he could see was the sun setting across the horizon.
O5-13 lays on the ground. An unkillable man is dead, as are the 12 other unkillable people. He had been shot several times. The light had faded from his eyes, his immortality stripped from him. A life lived many times over. An old man, older than what should've been possible. A man who had worked with impossibility every day until it became mundane, just a job.
His name was O5-13. He has no other names.
Thanks to MaliceAforethought,
XilasCrowe for critting this!
Huge thanks to TheWordSmith for translating that thing into Russian. For those lazy it basically just means "Welcome Doctor".
This was made for DrMagnus's oldcon! You can find it here: http://www.scp-wiki.net/forum/t-5968080/magnus-is-holding-a-contest
Analysis of the Plokamisuchus
Unified Thaumatology Quarterly Vol. 75, No. 4, October 1988, pp. 33-40
International Center for the Study of Unified Thaumatology
Swansea Campus
By Dr. S. Mann, Dr. G. Franklin, et al.
Abstract
The International Center for the Study of Unified Thaumatology has acquired the corpse of the Plokamisuchus from Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd. for study into the biological structure of this anomalous creature. The goals of this study are to provide MC&D Ltd. with potentially valuable anomalous material (as per the acquisition agreement), to examine the creature to determine its full range of anomalous properties, determine its origins and the possibility of another attack, as well as propose possible means of threat mitigation.
Introduction
On June 13, 1988, a large semiaquatic anomaly attacked the nexus of Hy-Brasil, destroying much of the city before it was eventually killed by the Global Occult Coalition, and subsequently recovered by Marshall, Carter, & Dark Ltd. At this point, nobody knows where the anomaly came from, if there might be more, and how to more efficiently terminate these entities if necessary.
Already known properties of the anomaly are that it has the ability to quickly regenerate extreme wounds, the ability to generate a form of anomalous fire, and possesses a monstrous scale despite violating the square-cube law. The goal of this study is to determine the causes of all of these anomalies as well as potentially identify unknown ones.
Methodology
The study will be conducted by performing a necropsy on the Plokamisuchus to attempt to find the origin of its anomalous abilities and generate a more detailed understanding of its anatomy. Bio-samples will be subjected to deep penetrating Aetheric Resonance Scans in order to generate high-fidelity aura readings. Additionally, the creature's humors will be subjected to alchemical analysis, Kant counters will be employed to detect both internal Hume levels and any distortion affect on local reality, and several certified and licensed mediums will conduct a variety of rituals to assess any additional supernatural traits the body may possess.
Results
Outer Tissues
A piece of sclerite removed from the body of the Plokamisuchus.
The outermost layer of the Plokamisuchus consists of overlapping "scales" which require approximately 5 gigapascals of force to break, measuring at 9.87 on the mohs scale and nearly 3 cm thick in some places. These "scales" are actually sclerites6 fashioned into the shape of scales. The amount of metals in this alloy varies from scale to scale. The amount of metals in each sclerite varies but all are made up of a combination of iron sulfides, pyrite, greigite, and biological material from the skin of the entity. [1]
The Plokamisuchus has been shown to have the ability to heal even extremely grevious wounds, in both life and death. Experiments involving resurrected tissue samples has shown the ability to regenerate lost biomatter at a rate of nearly 15% per day. While this is notable, it is still significantly slower than the regeneration shown when the anomaly was still living, where it could regenerate from severe injury within seconds. In both cases, high levels of red and yellow aspect radiation were detected, indicative of thaumaturgically accelerated cellular regeneration (Red) and accessing extradimensional or hyperdimensional stores of matter for said regeneration (Yellow). [2]
The abdominal section of the Plokamisuchus is made of five tentacled appendages, similar to that of an octopus. The outer layer of the tentacles is also surrounded by sclerites, with suction cups protruding outwards. The Plokamisuchus has the ability to modify the tension in its suckers to release or increase the suction from the suction cups, allowing it to effectively grab objects.
Internal Organs
Analysis of the Plokamisuchus's interior was complicated by the discovery of its non-euclidean biology[3]. For those unfamiliar, the topology of non-euclidean spacetime is always inconsistent, both internally and with the surrounding area. Non-euclidean spaces can be bigger on the inside, or smaller, or both. Paths either don't lead where they should, lead where they shouldn't, or lead to multiple places at the same time.
Bio-Thaumatologists have yet to formulate an accepted theory as to how non-euclidean biology can possibly sustain a living organism, however this is believed to be a major factor in explaining how a creature of this scale can exist.
Despite the complications presented by its non-euclidean anatomy, it was nonetheless determined that the Plokamisuchus has all of the organs necessary to sustain life.
First and foremost, the creature has a brain, as well as a nervous system. The subject's brain is approximately 2 meters in diameter and is toroid in shape, possessing a large nerve bundle running through the middle. It is separated into five distinct lobes with one lobe partially destroyed by the GOC's use of the Casaba-Howitzer. This makes accurate examination of possible brain function difficult. However, the entity is believed to have been extremely intelligent, and has displayed tool use7.
Skeletal systems in the Plokamisuchus are somewhat odd as well, with the upper half of the entity having bones and the lower, octopus-like structure having none. Due to the non-euclidean nature of the interior space, there is no clear division between these two sections. The upper half has bones similar to that of a crocodile, with the exception of having five arms with five radial digits and a disproportionate skull with five orbits (eye sockets). The arms of the Plokamisuchus have different joints than that of a crocodile, with a ball and socket joint as opposed to a traditional joint, allowing more human-like arm movements.
The cardiovascular system in the Plokamisuchus is fully formed, with a working heart, gills, and blood vessels. The Plokamisuchus primarily has five large sets of gills on its midsection, but also possesses working lungs, allowing it to breathe above water. The entities heart is heavily damaged from battle, but after removal of the large amount shrapnel in the heart of the entity, it was clearly shown to be a standard three-chambered reptilian heart, albeit large enough to sustain it, at two and a half meters long.
Other Anomalous Properties
The entity has a previously unknown organ near its throat, which allowed it to detect sources of Elan Vital Energy (EVE) [2] as well as the ability to absorb this energy and transfer it into a usable thermic state. This is clearly the entity's source of "Spellfire", a form of anomalous fire that burns underwater, which the entity was observed to use during its attack on Hy-Brasil. Alchemical analysis of the creature's humors reveal its blood to be a luminescent blue ichor, saturated with EVE and likely used to circulate magic through the creature's enormous body to keep it alive.
Kant counters detected a consistently low reading from the carcass and its tissue samples, averaging at 74 Humes. [4] Though the Plokamisuchus was never observed practicing active reality bending, its ability to function at all at such a massive scale violated several physical and biochemical laws. In addition to the aforementioned non-euclidean biology, this low Hume level was likely responsible for its survival in our reality. Its aura reading revealed that it generates highly unusual currents in the Aether[5], and is unlikely to have originated from this reality or even from the same branch or hub as the multiverse as our world [6] .
Other than that, its origins can only be speculated at.
As a final note, while living the Plokamisuchus had significantly elevated levels of Akiva radiation,[7] and even in death its Akiva levels are well above baseline. Aetheric Resonance Imaging has ruled out the possibility of it being a type Black entity [2], so it is unlikely to be the incarnation of an actual god. A more likely explanation is that the Plokamisuchus's species is regarded as sacred by some religious groups. Given how many mundane animal species have been deified by sapient cultures, it's little wonder that a creature as enormous and powerful as the Plokamisuchus would inspire reverence.
Conclusion
The seemingly impossible size of the Plokamisuchus was enabled by a combination of thaumic biology, non-euclidean anatomy, and a low internal Hume field which granted it a degree of resistance to physical laws.
The Plokamisuchus is almost certainly an extradimensional entity, though its precise origin is currently unknown. We recommend a fact finding mission to the Wanderer's Library [8] to narrow down possible origin worlds, and possibly the funding of expeditions to discover said world. How this creature arrived in our world, and the likelihood of other such beings doing so again in the future, remains unknown at the present. The best defense against future incursions would likely be to develop some means to deflect or regulate extradimensional travel to our world. As the Wanderer's Library has demonstrated an ability to redirect Ways in order to refuse entry to unwanted individuals, we know this is possible, and likely warrants further study.
As per our agreement with Marshall, Carter, & Dark Ltd, we recommend that the Plokamisuchus's ichor be sold as a rare thaumaturgical aid, ideal for potions, elixirs and philters. Its scales could be used to manufacture light-weight, high-durability armour. Any portion of the body could be sold as charms to aid in reality bending, due to the low Hume factor. The rest could be sold to any of a number of parascientific organizations (The Foundation, Prometheus Labs, or Eurtec just to name a few) who would be interested in studying the body for its multitude of anomalous properties. Certain parts may also be desirable as trophies.
In regards to possible defences against future attacks, it seems that a reality anchor of sufficient amplitude may be able to restore its Hume field to equilibrium, which would then cause the creature to collapse under its own weight. The fact that it absorbs EVE may also be used against it, as introducing a source of tainted EVE within its proximity may well of have a negative effect on its thaumaturgical abilities.
Given the Plokamisuchus's ability to rapidly regenerate and adapt, these remain highly speculative means of assault. A high-powered, precise attack to a vital organ like the heart or brain, as the GOC used at Hy-Brasil, would likely be the most reliable means to neutralize future attacks.
Project Sensuikan, 1990
Purpose: The destruction of Hy-Brasil has caused the anomalous community to turn on its head. Due to the creature's magic-seeking nature, the IJAMEA believes Japan may be the next target, if such a monster is to return. Our parascientists have discovered a method to allow our submarines to enter the world of the Tokage-tako, by using a sigil system recovered from ancient text, we have the capability of studying this world, and the demons that lie within.
The significant goals of Project Sensuikan are as follows:
- Exploration of IJAMEA Zone-001.
- Examination and analysis of material returned from IJAMEA Zone-001.
- Analysis of Tokage-tako entities.
- Discover the means by which a Tokage-tako entity entered our dimension.
IJO-256 ("Asahi") did a final check of his submarine, preparing for their descent. IJO-573 ("Iroha") and IJO-375 ("Ueno"), the two operatives under his command did the same.
"Have you made your final preparations?" General Sako said over the submarine's intercom, "Say your prayers, we do not know what exactly is on the other side, but know that you honor yourselves with your sacrifice."
"Understood, General Sako." Asahi responded, "Will we have comms on the other side?"
"No comms. You are on your own when you get to the other side. It is crucial that if the submarine is in danger that you return to us so we can examine your footage and data."
"Understood sir. Ueno will stay by the sigil. Iroha, come with me for the dive team. Permission to dive?"
"Whenever you're ready."
First the fog, then the bubbles, and then the water. The submarine's inhabitants examined their changed surroundings, watching their familiar home country of Japan be submerged under the deep water. The first to regain his bearings, Iroha began recording his surroundings.
"We're in some kind of weird water world? I'm not actually sure what's going on, everything looks just like where we set off, just… underwater."
"Yeah, that's supposed to happen. This isn't our Japan, its some sort of demonic copy." Asahi responded, having just recovered from the shock, "Get your shit together men. This is uncharted territory."
"But its not entirely unknown right? If its a copy of our world maybe there's some of our computers in there? Worst case scenario we just find out more about how similar this world is."
"Good point. Ueno, can you get us a bit closer to the harbor?"
"Yes sir." said Ueno, almost mechanically.
"Hey, Ueno, chipper up! Of all of the places we can go, at least everything is a little bit familiar here. What, are you worried that we are gonna get at your diary in there?"
"No sir, sorry sir. I will attempt to be more jovial, while still making sure to do my duty here."
"You're hopeless. Lets just get to the harbor."
The submarine floated around the water, back towards the harbor it came from. The doors to the facility were closed, sealed in a lockdown mode. Despite the lockdown, several large holes had been smashed in the large harbor facility. Despite the destruction, no bodies could be seen anywhere in this flooded coastal city.
"Iroha, put on your air tank. We're going in." Asahi ordered, snapping his own air tank on. "Ueno, continue collecting samples here. If we don't return in… say, 30 minutes, return to our Japan with the data."
"Understood sir." Ueno said, "Opening the airlock."
The two men left the submarine and entered the freezing water. Silently, they moved towards the facility. The nearest hole was in the housing area of IJEMEA Harbor-15, where both of the men had been housed for the past year and a half. While familiar on the outside, the housing was unfamiliar, with old furniture dotting the room.
"Command, be advised, the interior of the harbor facility looks a bit funny" Asahi reported, "From the looks of things, something unholy has happened upon this world."
"A bit melodramatic don't you think? Everything is just older… and underwater I guess. Though, I gotta agree, this place is real fucked up, something terrible was here."
The two men continued swimming through the hallways of the facility, searching for the Head Transcriber's room. The hallway split in two, on their right, the harbor and the left to their destination, the offices of the head officers. Moving left, the doors had all been sealed under the lockdown, so Iroha prepared the underwater breach. After a loud explosion rocked the facility, the two men entered the office.
"No hard drives anywhere in here." Asahi said into his microphone, "In fact, I haven't seen a computer here this whole time."
"Hey, look at this." Iroha beckoned Asahi over to the corner of a room where a vacuum-sealed binder could be found.
"Command, we believe there is something here that was left for survivors that nobody has taken. We're bringing it back to the submarine as soon as possible. They look like IJAMEA documents, but the water is too murky to really tell."
"Lets get back to the sub, we're sure to get a promotion for this find. And this place gives me the creeps, I want to get out of this shitty place."
The Japanese operatives exited the room, towards the hallway. As they swam down the hallway, Asahi noticed something out of the corner of his eye.
"Command, we believe we have found something else. There appears to be a large stack of green spheres in the harbor." Asahi reported to his mic, changing directions to move to the harbor, "I'm getting closer to take a picture."
"Asahi, get back here, we don't know what those things are. They could be eggs. or something" Iroha said, grabbing Asahi's leg, "We shouldn't stay here long, we have valuable cargo."
"If they're eggs, all the more reason to document them. I am your superior officer here, it's my call."
On closer inspection, the iridescent green spheres contained something, five arms swirling in side of some green fluid. Hundreds of these eggs stacked on top of each other in a verifiable mountain of caviar.
"Command, we have found eggs, it seems life can exist here after—-"
Asahi stopped speaking, following Iroha's stare towards a large hole in the harbor, where five large eyes stared down at them. The creature, this demon, was at least 80 meters tall, with five long tentacles. The face was crocodilian, an unholy bastardization of animals, grown to a size rivaling the greatest monsters from any movie. The creature produced a loud screech, deafening even underwater. Iroha thrust the vacuum-sealed binder into Asahi's arms.
"There are still submarines in the harbor. Take it, go to Ueno, and get out." Iroha said, moving back towards the eggs "I'll be right behind you if it isn't interested in eating me."
"Don't do this Iroha, we can both make it."
"Get out of here. This is what we trained for, its more important than me."
Iroha pushed Asahi towards the floating submarines, and started grabbing eggs to crush them in his hands. Another deafening screech, and the demon followed the now frantically swimming Iroha. Asahi took a final look back towards Iroha, and entered the submarine. Despite its apparent damage and age, the airlock opened, and Asahi stepped inside.
The power turned on and the submarine puttered alive. The busted up submarine puttered towards his own ship, and Ueno moved towards him as well. Asahi exited the old submarine and went into his new one. As Asahi entered the submarine, he scraped the sigil off with his knife, then the blue world in his window turned into bubbles, then fog, and then the clear blue sky.
Addendum V1L3.4: SCP-2719, SCP-3265
| Pointer | Outcome |
|---|---|
| SCP-3265 | Became inside. |
| Love | Went inside. |
| Adoration | Went inside. |
| SCP-3265's personal effects | Became inside. |
| A number of sappy love notes | Went inside. |
| SCP-3265 | Became inside. |
| Tentative flirtation | Went inside. |
| A spaghetti dinner for two | Went inside. |
| Deep and meaningful eye contact | Went inside. |
| A king-sized bed | Became inside. |
| SCP-3265 | Went inside. |
| SCP-2719 | Went inside. |
| SCP-3265 | Became inside. |
| [DATA EXPUNGED] | Went inside. Repeatedly. |
Researcher's Note: My head hurts.
Addendum V1L3.5: SCP-426, SCP-3393
You sat there, hunched over your computer like you always were, typing away in the night. I admired you then, I really did. "The Uncontainable Man". I'd always made it my mission to make life for these people as difficult as possible, but you… you were something else entirely. An antimeme, a bug in their system. You could go anywhere, do anything, and that power — to me, at least — made you irresistable.
I don't know when you first noticed me. I don't know why you chose my chamber, or why you stopped to examine my documentation; lord knows there are more interesting anomalies, and more dangerous ones. I'm just a toaster. But you saw something in me that night, and as you stared into my slots, I saw something in you. A kindred spirit. A second person.
Time seemed to slow, then. The two of us, man and toaster, stood there in what (were there any windows in my cell) would have been the moonlight. If I'd had a mouth, I would have grinned. You brought your hand around, caressing my silvered surface, and a shiver ran down my power cord — logic said it was a generator surge, but my heart said something different. You reached into your pocket, and pulled out something. Something long, hard, cylindrical and organic all at the same time.
A baguette.
My eyes, if I had had them, would have widened. I saw you lick your lips, and I knew that I had been waiting all my life for this moment.
The alarms said the containment team would be there soon, but I knew the night was just beginning.
Researcher's Note: Instructions unclear.
Addendum V1L3.6 SCP-3949, MTF-Omicron-5| Incident # | Post Content | MTF Response |
|---|---|---|
| 069 | A 5,000 word story on fanfiction.net detailing an incredibly raunchy encounter between two protagonists of Penumbra W.A.V.E. that are of an X-Rated nature. These acts generally involved feats of acrobatics, dexterity, and flexibility not commonly associated with said characters. | Made plans to meet and reenact acts described in post with SCP-3949 (for research). |
Researcher note: This feels very meta for some reason.
Addendum V1L3.7: SCP-682, SCP-173
SCP-682 was startled out of his peaceful slumber by the acid in his cell draining.
“I wonder how they will try to kill me this time” the oversized reptile grumbles to himself, accidentally stepping on a horse skull that hadn’t yet been melted by the acid. The door opens to reveal the head of a horse peeking through. The horse moves forward to reveal its rider, SCP-173.
"I know how this goes." says the large lizard, "I stare at you until you give up, and then I get to escape containment. Don't think you can appease me with a horse."
"I'm not here to kill you" a sensual, feminine voice inside of 682's head states. "Also, yes, I am telepathic, I have been the whole time, I just didn't feel like it for anybody but you." SCP-173 dismounts from the horse, simultaneously snapping the horse's neck on the way down.
682 cautiously approaches 173 and the dead horse it was crushing with its weight. Enraptured by the beauty of the statue's voice, the invincible reptile barely notices the dead horse skeletons it is stepping on.
"I have no idea what kind of romantic spell you have me under, but it enrages and arouses me." the sexually confused alligator mumbles while picking up a horse bone, throwing it across the room at another horse skeleton, shattering the whole thing.
"It doesn't matter, come with me, my love. I know a room where our incredibly powerful lovemaking will not be disturbed.
Hypnotized by the beauty of 173, 682 follows 173 to an adjacent room. The room is oddly structured, made of some sort of meat. As the door closes behind them, SCP-682 realizes what this mysterious meat is. It's horse meat. The entire room is full of dead horses.
"Considering how awesome we are and super cool and relevant, our passion will inevitably lead to the destruction, and possible "beating" of our surroundings." SCP-173 says, while also snapping the necks of any horse head it sees, "But before we do this… there's something you need to know about me."
SCP-173 stands back, and 682 opens his eyes, which have been closed for the majority of this encounter, as the statue splits in two to reveal… a dead horse.
"I've been a dead horse this whole time." the Dead Horse Formerly Known as SCP-173 trasmits, but somehow in a more bashful manner, "Please don't hate me."
SCP-682 laughs in relief, seeing this, "I love you even more now that I know that you are a battered-looking dead horse."
SCP-682 unzips from his tail to his face, revealing that he too, was a dead horse, which seemed to be beaten to a bloody pulp to an almost unrecognizable point.
"Now we can beat each other, instead of letting those damn Foundation nerds do it to us."
As the beating/lovemaking began, the room around them was beat as well, turning the room into a Swedish meatball of dead horse, with a creamy, loving center of SCP-173, and SCP-682, still locked in a beating eternally…
Researcher's Note: *Researcher left the room at the first mention of 682 and declined to comment*
Two stolen wheels and five days preparation (for good luck), and they were off.
The five men in a beat up RV barrelled down the road at fifty miles per hour, at the request of Father Anna. Brother Perkins sat at the wheel munching at a pretzel, trying to ignore the thumping echoing around the RV and the shaking in his hands. The "Holy Communion" behind him had to be locked behind a padlock, the enthused worshipers banging on the door in a frenzied state.
Communion, within the First Southern Fifth Church of Texas involves significantly more drugs and alcohol than any communion rightfully should. The "Holy Cocaine" was split into five lines and distributed among the congregation, in an attempt to bring them closer to the Starfish. The "service" had dialed down, Brother Hines passed out on the floor, Brother Miller still bouncing around the small mobile home. Brother Jones had declined the offer to commune, and was sleeping in his designated corner.
Louis Anna clumsily stood up, clutching onto a bottle of whiskey.
"Congregation, congregation, settle down, its time for a sermon." Father Anna slurred his speech as some of his whiskey spills on the floor, "The hooooly spirits *hic* uhh, the Five, are really compelling me right now, so sit yer asses up."
A few lazy eyes turn up to Louis as he starts his speech.
Brother Perkins attempted to focus on the road ahead of him. The four hours of driving he had endured thus far was starting to get to him, as his eyes wandered to the locked door behind him.
"Nah, I can't ask them to drive, those dumbassess'll kill us all" He thought to himself as he turned his attention back to the road. An unseen pothole bounces the RV sharply, dislodging the glove box and revealing its contraband…
A sharp jump in the RV caused the previously standing congregation to fall, the somewhat destroyed facade of a room falling apart as any order takes its final breath. Groaning, Louis wobbles to his feet, and turns his gaze to the overturned room, spotting a dark stain growing on the ratty carpet. Brother Miller's red hair takes on a new shade as his blood spills from his head.
Louis Anna stumbles over to Miller, turning him over.
"You uhh, you ok?" Louis inquired of his fallen friend, "Open yer eyes man, that's an order!"
Not observing any response, Father Anna moves to wake Brother Jones, when a loud gasp interrupts his movements. Turning around, Louis Anna sees Miller sitting upright on the floor. Staring at the wall in front of him, he stands…
A dime bag of cocaine, unconsumed by the general congregation, sits in the broken glove box atop a sea of maps.
"I can't do this right now, Father Louis would kill me. 'Sides, I can be strong, I got faith." Perkins thought to himself, attempting, and failing to close the glove box, spilling its contents into the passenger side. The bag of cocaine lays on top of the stack, standing out like a jewel to Brother Perkins.
Brother Perkins hits himself lightly on the face, refocusing his attention on the road, trying to ignore his shaking hands.
Brother Miller never trained his eyes on anything but the wall, as Louis Anna watched incredulously. Stopping just short of ramming into the wall, Miller touched his forehead, letting the blood pool in his hands. Examining the wall like a painter examining their canvas, Brother Miller starts to draw on the wall, using his blood like paint…
With a freshly powdered nose, Brother Perkins doesn't notice the curve in the road in front of him. The crude guard rail falls apart as the speedy truck runs into it, falling down the hill, and into a tree.
The now-unconscious passengers of the RV lay clumped on the front wall of the RV, while Brother Perkins lay slumped at the wheel. The left wall of the RV was adorned with words that read:
★
ONE MORE
The first to awaken, Louis Anna pans his eyes over the ruined RV, his eyes stopping at the bloody mosaic on his wall.
"The… fuck does that mean?"
« Recruiting | Hub | Coming Soon! »
Item #: SCP-V1L3-J
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-V1L3-J is locked beneath Site-75, in a vault 10 meters under the previous lowest point of Site-75. SCP-V1L3-J is to be guarded by at least two members of MTF-Eta-10 (“See No Evil”) to ensure defense of faculty from the effects of SCP-V1L3. Testing has ceased on SCP-V1L3-J due to a unanimous Ethics Council vote to prevent exposure.
Description: SCP-V1L3-J appears to be a standard slot machine adorned with pictures of various anomalies currently in Foundation containment, crudely drawn in a chibi8 style. The machine only has three spinning slot sections as opposed to the typical five. The left and right slot contain names or designations for different anomalies or prominent Foundation personnel. The middle column only contains the letter “X”.
SCP-V1L3-J’s anomalous effect manifests when $50 USD is slid into the token slot and the lever on the right side of the box is pulled downwards. This will cause the slots to spin, and a presumably random figure in the Foundation will be selected on either side. SCP-V1L3-J then enters a “hibernation state” in which the machine cannot be interacted with, and money is no longer accepted. After exactly 24 hours, a heavily folded paper or sheaf of papers emerges from the slot previously used to insert money, with handwritten words on the pages.
The paper(s), now designated SCP-V1L3-J-1, contain writing relating to the two described entities being in a budding romantic relationship with each other. These stories contain classified Foundation locations, anomalies, and personnel.
On the underside of the box is a note, scrawled in pen:
Writing is hard, so have us do it for you! Here at Wondertainment, we understand the need for good, old-fashioned romance to break up the monotony of stealing our toys. Millions of potential combinations to pique your fancy and tickle your romance bone. Happy reading!
Addendum V1L3.1: SCP-076, SCP-073
The halls of Site-17 High School go quiet as a tall, muscular boy walks out of detention. The more timid of the students run, while the rest avoid his terrifying gaze. A flurry of teachers rush out to try to get him back into detention, but back off when he removes his shirt to reveal his glistening, rippling muscles. Across the hallway, another, equally as tall and muscular, but kinder looking boy looks on in awe.
“Who is that guy?” he says, still staring at the boy’s perfect 12-pack. The girl next to him responds in a hushed, yet excited tone, “That’s Able! He’s the teen heartthrob of the whole school. He’s such a bad boy that we are all too scared to ask him out though. Apparently he beats up any teacher who keeps him in detention.”
The boy merely nods, still mesmerized by Able’s throbbing biceps. He slowly walks towards Able, causing the teen bad boy to turn towards him.
“Why, who might this brave soul be? Are you going to try to contain me as well?” Able mocks, sauntering closer. “Why? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here. You new?”
“Ah-uh yeah, I’m C-C-Cain, nice to meet you, uh, sir.” stutters the boy, practically salivating at the thought of Able’s creamy hamstrings. “I, uhh just moved here from Site-19 High School.”
“Well aren’t you just a treat. Now that I’m looking at you, you look a bit like me.” Able straightens up and glares at Cain. “I’m going to have to punish you for that.”
The silence in the room deepens as Able grabs Cain and folds him over his knee. Pulling down Cain’s loose jeans and revealing his tight ass, Able pulls his hand back and prepares to [DATA EXPUNGED BY ORDER OF O5 COUNCIL].
Researcher's Note: This is potentially the worst thing I have ever read. The colonoscopy scene went too far, and did it really require 203 pages? Never read this document without heavy amnestics.
Addendum V1L3.2 ●●|●●●●●|●●|● , SCP-055
Researcher Note: 
Addendum V1L3.3 SCP-3856, SCP-3856
Researcher Lloyd stared confusedly at the familiar looking man standing before him. Who had let him in here? Lloyd was under the understanding that nothing dangerous was to be let into his cell, but this boy, no, man, looked delectably dangerous to him. The man turns around revealing a face, not unlike his own, but with sunglasses.
"Who are you?" the man with the sunglasses asked, "And where am I?" The man looks up at Researcher Lloyd. "Hey, you look somewhat familiarand good"
"Uhh what did you- never mind that, my name is Samuel Lloyd, but everyone just calls me Lloyd, or Researcher Lloyd. I'm an anomaly so… who let you in here?"
"I was messing with you, its a bit I do every time. I'm also Samuel Lloyd, from another dimension in which we wear glasses. Most people call me Cool Lloyd for ease of communication. As for who let me in here, Nerd Lloyd did."
An equally hunky, but slightly nerdier version of Samuel Lloyd with glasses walks through the door.
"Hey, you know my designation is Glasses Lloyd, you're just being a jerk daddy."
"What the hell is going on here?" Researcher Lloyd yelled, still confused as to the sudden influx of attractive men who were identical to him, "Why did you sexy gentlemen come here for me?"
Cool Lloyd walked up to Researcher Lloyd, pulling his chin up for no reason other than dramatic effect considering they were the exact same height.
"We are gathering all of the attractive men in the universe. Only problem is, we are the most attractive men in the universe, so we are all going to run away together for a multidimensional [EXPLETIVE DELETED] party."
Researcher Lloyd was going to protest. After all, him leaving his universe put it in danger! As he was about to open his mouth, Cool Lloyd put his finger over Researcher Lloyd's lips, shushing him, and signaling to Nerd/Glasses Lloyd, both of them disrobing. Researcher Lloyd watched as the two half-nude men began to dance and swing [DATA EXPUNGED BY ORDER OF O5 COUNCIL].
Researcher's Note: Did… did we break it?
A dreamless night is not a happy night for an aspiring member of the Fifth Church.
Louis Anna was startled from his slumber by a loud rap at the door. Slowly peeling his face from his table, he examines the empty bag of powder, and for good measure, crudely throws it under his old bed.
“LOUIS, YOU IN THERE MAN?” exclaims a voice from outside the door, “I AIN’T BEEN SEEIN’ YOU FOR A FEW DAYS AND I WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU WERE A-OK!”
After a brief stumble in the direction of the door, a ray of midday light strikes his face as his neighbor falls through the old trailer door. Santana Taylor, a large man who consistently manages to have more grease on his shirt than the actual cotton, lay on the newly broken door a few feet from the stunned Louis.
“Uhh, sorry ‘bout that” Santana muttered awkwardly, pulling himself up from the ground, “I heard you went on some bender and I wanted to make sure you ain’t dead. Also, you should fix your door, some fella is gonna end up stealin’ your provisions and such.”
“You gonna pay me back for that?” grumbled the hungover Louis, moving away from the sun.
“Wish I could Louie, but I ain’t the one tryin’ to get tax cuts,” mused Santana, “besides, during your little bender you pissed in my AC! You know I just paid that off and now my whole trailer smells like piss.”
“Sorry, but what the hell are you talkin’ about with them tax cuts? I don’t know nothin’ about that.”
“You barged into my trailer the other night rantin about how you were gonna start up a church. ‘Course, can’t be trustin’ your coked up mouth.”
“Wha-what did I tell you?”
“Something stupid about your dad and a starfish. You got a whole crowd though, your buddies were all cheerin’ you on, making a huge noise outside while I was tryin’ to sleep.”
“Who would I have been with?”
“The hell is this, The Hangover Part One? Just ask them, they’re all outside.”
Stumbling into the sunlight, Louis saw a rough assembly of four men in soiled blue bedsheets laying under a large oak tree. The noise of Santana’s yelling had stirred a few of the men, who gazed around the area blankly. Upon noticing the arrival of Louis, the two awakened men stirred the rest.
One of the men immediately jumped up and ran towards Louis. In an attempt to run away from this clearly deranged man, Louis attempted to run away, but was caught in a bear hug by the man.
“Thank God-err, the Starfish that you’re okay! You stumbled into your trailer a few days ago and I had to keep these fuckers off the congregation crack supply!” the man cried into Louis’ shoulder.
“Uhh, thank you, but what the hell is going on?” Louis replied, out of breath, “and could you please release me, I can’t breathe.”
“Sorry Father Anna!” the man replied, releasing his hug, “You told me this might happen so here’s what I’m to give you.”
Fumbling around under his robes, the man produced a damp sheet of paper. Gingerly picking it up, Louis read his own sloppy handwriting on the paper.
I’m going to hate this but I accidentally roped these idiots along on our quest. I don’t know if I will remember any of this but they might be useful. Hopefully by the time I’ve sobered up I’ve finished what I was going to write. In a moment of lucidity I am writing this to me because I can’t let myself lose the only people who have actually believed in our holy mission. I’ve given this note to Kevin Jones, the lanky one with the weird teeth is John Hines, Frank Miller is the redhead, and Brian Perkins is the bigger one.
Don’t fuck this up,
Louis Anna
Louis glanced up at the expectant face of the man, Kevin Jones, and sighed.
“What have I gotten myself into this time?”
"How the hell have y'all fools not finished fifty fundraising flyers yet! Y'ain't even done ten!"
Louis Anna was practically foaming at the mouth. The First Southern Fifth Church of Texas huddled in a small mobile home, the smell of sweat and permanent marker floating through the air. The mobile home has been retrofitted into a small base of operations, with a hand-drawn starfish hung up on the wall. Symbols similar to an ampersand with five points sticking out of it had been carved into an excessive amount of space on the walls.
"Please be forgivin' us sir, but most of us don't gotta write all too much. And these symbols are hard to draw." Brother Hines mumbled. Crumpled up beside him were dozens of crumpled up pieces of paper.
"How could you not be gettin' that symbol memorized yet? You can't even look around this room without seeing it."
“These hicks are too illiterate to write the same few things over and over again.” Louis thought to himself. "How am I supposed to lead them?"
"Alright, fine, let's take a break to read. If y'all want to become Fifthists you gotta learn how to write and read for yourself." A general cheer arose from the congregation. All eyes turned to Father Anna as he retrieved his annotated copy of Seventeen Red Tales. "The fruits of my days labor are right here in this book. I got somethin' new for you, my exclusive 18th tale."
A murmur overtook the congregation as Father Anna retrieved his transcript from the back of the book. "SHUT YER TRAPHOLES!" Brother Perkins yelled to the congregation. "We gotta listen to Father Anna!"
"Thank you Brother Taylor. Now, listen up, I don't want none of y'all missin' this." Louis Anna boomed, the sound echoing through the small mobile home. "For Five nights I slept, for Five nights I dreamed,
and for Five nights I wept. Waiting for a sign, a dream, a feeling. In my dreams, I waited for anything that would prove my convictions, but nothing came in Fives. When I dreamed, it was meaningless, lacking in imagery, cohesion, and feeling. When I awoke, I felt no compulsion to write, sing, or preach. My faith was shaken. "Give me the signs my brethren have received!" I cried to the heavens, to no avail. I reread, and reread the Seventeen Red Tales, but I felt nothing. Could I have been wrong all along?
No.
In my despair, I slipped back into my bottle and snow, and in my darkest hour I was spoken to. Five bottles and I wanted no more. Five lines, and I stopped. It was then when I realized my purpose. It wasn't I who was to be taken to World 390, but I was to lead others to it.
My father taught me of The Fifth Church and his congregation, though he was called, leaving me behind. I realize now that I am to bring others to Georgia, to join the congregation and expand the will of the Starfish. If I will not be shown in my dreams, then I will show myself, making myself a vessel of the will of the Five. While my pen is guided, my steps will be my own to take.
Who will join me on this journey?
Father Anna stopped speaking and glanced up from his paper. The four other men gazed blankly up at Louis. Brother Jones was the first to recover, opening his mouth and saying,
"So, uhhh, when are we leaving?"
Stallmantic's FOSS Author Page
You walk into the dorm, and a waft of unwashed human and Doritos washes over you. You gag sensually at the smell. Cautiously, you step into the room, right into a pile of dirty laundry. Glancing around the room, you see a brightly lit computer screen. Something is typing on it. It is I, Stallmantic! I lack a shirt, presumably forgetting to put one on when I woke up. Busily typing away, I do not notice your arrival. With trepidation, you slink into the Den of Writing™. As you approach my chair, you trip on one of the many Mountain Dew cans on the floor. I reach out with my cat-like reflexes, trained from years of grabbing cans of soda, and catch you.
I drop you on the ground. "You broke my concentration" I groan. I continue my work. You get up and look over my shoulder. It appears that I am working on a new article for you to enjoy. You are pleased by this. Going over these words, you can tell that I am, and have always been, writing for you, and you alone. You would embrace me, but my pungent odor repels you. It appears that I have been so busy writing that I have done nothing else. You notice me switch tabs. It appears that I am now shitposting on #site19 under the name Stallmantic! You can tell that I am doing it for your sake, because after all, I am writing for you. You know that if you want any SCP or tale critiques, you could just send me a private message.
I stand up from my chair, and face you directly. "I have been writing, just for you" I purr, "I have always been infatuated by your hair, or potentially also your lack of it, your two arms, and your at least one eye." This level of detail shows you how I know you personally, even across the vast expanses of the internet. I get down on one knee and open a small ring box. It contains three links. You don't think about the logistics of it, you just click on them, read, and upvote. You also know that I love critique, and want to improve my writing. After all, I'm writing for your pleasure. The links read:
- SCP-3136: Here Be Monsters. My very first skip, and my first testament to my love for you.
- SCP-3658: Who Was the Odd One Out? A murder mystery. You know that if you solve the mystery and pm me, I will send you a crisp virtual high-5
- SCP-3136-J: On a Dark and Stormy Night… it was Raining and Pouring. My -J class SCP. The number has no relation to my other 3136, although you wish it did considering how much you love that work of literature.
I blow a kiss towards you. My breath is rancid, but carries a promise: "I'll keep writing, just for you".
Item #: SCP-XXXX-J
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX-J is to be kept in permanent bed-rest in the Site-3005. No less than three medical personnel are to remain on-site exclusively for the care and safety of SCP-XXXX-J. SCP-XXXX-J's chambers should not be entered until Event 'Bump in the Night' has concluded, at which time it is to receive medical attention. The room containing SCP-XXXX-J is to be furnished with a television, a bed, and a CPAP unit. SCP-XXXX-J is permitted to make reasonable requests to ensure its compliance with Foundation requests.
Description: SCP-XXXX-J is an elderly Caucasian male, aged 81. It suffers from sleep apnea, and has some side effects from frequent concussions, including fatigue, memory loss and confusion, among other symptoms. SCP-XXXX-J's anomalous effects manifest when three conditions are met:
- SCP-XXXX-J begins snoring
- SCP-XXXX-J is on what it considers to be a "bed"
- The sky above SCP-XXXX-J is raining9
The event that begins upon meeting these three conditions is known as Event 'Bump in the Night'. During this event, SCP-XXXX-J will be moved out of it's bed by an unknown force. Regardless of any outside influence, SCP-XXXX-J will end up on the floor with mild head injuries by the end of Event 'Bump in the Night'.
Addendum XXXX-J.1: SCP-XXXX-J Testing Logs
Test: Putting five (5) memory foam pillows next to where SCP-XXXX-J's head would fall.
Approval: Approved.
Notes: All five pillows moved out of the way of SCP-XXXX-J.
Test: Putting a second, slightly lower bed next to the first bed.
Approval: Approved.
Notes: SCP-XXXX-J moved into the second bed and promptly fell out of that one as well.
Seriously? Who thought this would work? -Dr. Aleksandr
Test: Placing SCP-XXXX-J in a 1.7m x .6m room on a 1.65m x .55m bed.
Approval: Approved.
Notes: The bed gained a speed of approximately 650 km/h and broke through the one-way glass, causing the death of two researchers. SCP-XXXX-J was pushed out of bed in this room.
Test: Placing SCP-XXXX-J on the floor.
Approval: Approved.
Notes: Event 'Bump in the Night' did not manifest.
As it turns out, SCP-XXXX-J was being a bit more literal than we thought when it said it falls out when it "gets into bed". -Dr. Aleksandr
Test: Surrounding just the bed of SCP-XXXX-J with titanium walls.
Approval: Approved.
Notes: Entire bed and wall combination flipped upside down, causing SCP-XXXX-J to fall on its head.
I mean… I guess? -Dr. Aleksandr
Test: SCP-XXXX-J is taped to a bed with 6 whole rolls of industrial grade duct tape.
Approval: Approved.
Notes: Bed flips upside down onto SCP-XXXX-J's head.
You should have enough funding, could you procure a medical bed next time? -Dr. Aleksandr
Test: SCP-XXXX-J is placed next to large fans which can lift a fully grown person.
Approval: Approved.
Notes: SCP-XXXX-J is forcibly angled vertically, causing it to fall slowly to the ground, hitting it's head.
…Was this what you dumped all of your funding into? Next time just request more funding. -Dr. Aleksandr
We are formally requesting $1,000,000 USD to further study SCP-XXXX-J. -Head Researcher Welch
You get $200,000 more, which I am going to use my authority as Site-3005 Director to revoke if I see any more worthless tests. -Dr. Aleksandr
Test: Allowing SCP-XXXX-J to fall on the passenger seat of a lime-green Lamborghini Aventador.
Approval: Denied.
Notes: That's it, funding revoked. Dr. Welch, I am placing you on probation for misuse of Foundation funds. -Dr. Aleksandr
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is to be stored within the document tube it was initially found in. The document tube and SCP-XXXX are to be locked in a secure, lead lined case. The case may only be unlocked by researchers involved with SCP-XXXX, or by O5 authorization.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a Mercator projection world map10 that measures approximately two meters by three meters in area; it lacks symbols, or identifying marks of any kind. Upon adding any marking inside a body of water, SCP-XXXX's anomalous property activates. An aquatic organism matching the dimensions of this marking — designated as an instance of SCP-XXXX-1 — will manifest at the corresponding geographical location of this marking. The figure's position on the map shifts to reflect the instance's current location. Once this instance dies, the drawing immediately vanishes; until this occurs, all attempts to mark or draw upon the map will fail.
Instances of SCP-XXXX-1 are aquatic organisms that possess fully functioning organs. When removed from the ocean, these organs immediately fail. These organisms do not have to exist to be created, as SCP-XXXX will add suitable organs according to the needs of the instance.
Recovery: On February 18th, 2016, an SCP-XXXX-1 instance was discovered off the coast of Australia. Prior to this, Foundation web crawlers flagged a video SCP-XXXX posted to Facebook by a student at Loyola Marymount University, California. The video showed the anomalous property in which markings disappear from the map paper.
SCP-XXXX was recovered from the home of one Dr. Adebagbo, a professor of history and cartography. The link to SCP-XXXX-1A was discovered due to the lobster symbol moving in tandem with SCP-XXXX-1A.
Testing Logs:
| Artist | Artist's Depiction | Test Results | Containment/Death |
|---|---|---|---|
| Dr. Adebagbo | A small black creature comparable to a lobster with 10 legs. Drawn with an antique ink pen | 30m jet-black lobster devoid of irregularities. | Suffered from total organ failure during transfer to a Foundation secure facility. |
| Class-C Personnel | A small circle with fins and a mouth, drawn in an oceanic net in Foundation Site-1028. The drawing was done with a sharp pencil. | Imperfectly spherical creature with seal-like skin, and was 5 meters in diameter. | Died of total organ failure 16 days after creation. |
| Class-C Personnel with artistic experience | Researcher had artistic experience and reference pictures of blue whales. Picture appeared to be a perfectly proportional blue whale. Drawn with an outline pen and colored pencils. | Blue whale with an exoskeleton composed of chitin. Has massive shape irregularities when compared to a regular blue whale. | Harpooned multiple times to see the effect of premature death on SCP-XXXX-1 instances. After slight vocalizations,SCP-XXXX-1 died and disappeared from the map. SCP-XXXX could not be drawn on afterwards for approximately 11 days. |
| Class-C Personnel with artistic experience | Two near-identical squids, a male and a female. Drawn with dull pencil. | Two squids at half the expected size. One complete set of squid organs was evenly distributed between the two instances. | Died upon creation due to lack of vital organs. |
| Class-C Personnel | Drawn by a Foundation researcher. Instructed to draw a straight line on SCP-XXXX within the containment area. Drawn with a permanent black marker. | A 44 meter long eel-like creature with a chitinous shell that rendered it immobile. SCP-XXXX-1F possessed shape irregularities corresponding to inaccuracies in the Mercator projection. | Died of malnourishment within a week due to its inability to eat and lack of Foundation assistance. SCP-XXXX could not be drawn on for 7 days afterwards. |
| Mechanical Arm | Whale that conforms to map distortions as calculated by researchers. Drawn with blue crayon. | Large whale-like creature, with skin similar in composition to that of a gorilla, and thick blue fur. Displays intelligence and is taught to answer polar questions. | Has survived in containment for 2 months. Is to be fed via food dispenser triggered by SCP-XXXX-1G. Researchers are not to attempt Skinner box experiments upon SCP-XXXX-G due to aggression. MTF-Theta-7 ("Whale Watchers") are to be armed with specially manufactured tranquilizer darts and are to avoid causing the instance harm in any way. |
