Adam Smascher

TO BE WRITTEN: Smascher's (attempted) interview following Incident BRCS-06, ramblings¹, and possible additional material for Blood and Thunder. Also maybe LITD. Will be tricky.

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**Item #:** SCP-XXX

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

**Special Containment Procedures:** [Paragraphs explaining the Procedures]

**Description:** [Paragraphs explaining the Description]

**Addendum:** [Optional additional paragraphs]

Log Template

Personal Log of: [person who wrote it. Can be staff or not, even blanked out]

Date: XX-XX-XXXX

[What transpired to this person on this date. All to be done in the first person, but can be as descriptive and biased as wanted.]

''Repeat as necessary''

Notes: [The aftermath, or what happened to the writer]

Incident Template

'''Incident:''' Main Location, SCP, Date, or Personnel involved.

SCP involved:

Personnel involved: (Optional)

Date: (can be blocked out)

Location: (can be blocked out)

Description:

[Description of Events]

===Optional===

Addendum:

Document# XXX-XX: [Document Title]

[Document]

Interview Template

Interviewed: [the person, persons, or SCP being interviewed]

Interviewer: [Interviewer, can be blocked out]

Foreword: [Small passage stating why the interview is taking place, and regarding what]

<Begin Log, [optional time info]>

''Interviewer:'' [speech]

''Person'': [speech]

''Repeat as necessary:''

<End Log>

Closing Statement: [Small passage on what transpired afterward, or what happened to the person being interviewed]

Idea: A Dream

Idea: A dream which spreads by being described. Anyone who hears a sufficiently clear and detailed account of the dream is liable to experience it. For this reason, records of the dream are censored and details changed. Nobody has the dream twice. Amnesiacs have proven effective at causing individuals to forget they've heard descriptions of the dream, but not at preventing the dream occurring to those who hear it described.

The dream itself involves being trapped in a structure. Accounts of what the structure actually is, as well as its size, vary from person to person, ranging from a library to ruins to a vault of some sort. In all accounts, the structure is constructed of a hard metal with a yellow luster similar to brass or gold. Complex locking mechanisms (that they are, in fact, locking mechanisms is often not apparent in the dream) cover most surfaces in any given structure.

In all accounts of the dream, an entity is trapped in the structure with the dreamer. Descriptions of the entity, its apparent disposition, motives, and feelings elicited by its presence vary wildly. One person may dream of something two and a half meters tall, humanoid, with snow white fur, scales, horns, and bat-like wings with a soothing voice and express sadness at leaving it behind upon waking. Another may dream of a dead cat that kept relocating to different places but maintaining the same position every time they looked away, describing it as unsettling and remarking they wish it would just die already. Yet another may dream of a corpse, cut in half at the waist, that pursued them, dragging its viscera behind it.

In some dreams, the entity simply requests assistance in undoing the locks within the structure. In others, the dreamer is tricked into doing so, or undoes locks of their own volition in an effort to escape. Any locks which one person undoes in their dream, either intentionally, unintentionally, or inadvertently, appear undone to all subsequent dreamers.

Conversations with the entity suggest that simply undoing the locks isn't enough; according to it, three times prior, all but one lock has been undone. When this final remaining lock was opened, all locks, including the final, reset. The entity does not express frustration at this, simply saying it now understands the necessary order.

TENTATIVE: SCP-938 priority one targets are people who know enough to have the dream, but haven't yet. Priority two targets are people who've had the dream and thus can potentially spread it. These are the individuals SCP-938 fixates upon. Priority three targets are everyone else. Its goal is to keep the dream-sealed entity imprisoned.

ANOTHER IDEA: Maybe linked to SCP-333. The song aspect, SCP-333-A, came to the "writer" when they experienced the dream. In the dream, the entity was humming, maybe singing (but not in any language the "writer" understood; I like the idea of wordless communication here, not though gestures, but mutual understanding) as it played the song on an instrument. The entity asked the "writer" to promise not to forget, about it or its song. The "writer" promised, recorded a written account of their dream, and wrote the original copy of SCP-333-A. Original "writer" unaware of its anomalous properties; minimum performer requirement not fulfilled, possibly until years after the "writer's" death.

Possibly imply a motive for the dream entity wanting the song to be known to humans. Maybe suggest that hearing SCP-333-A performed may cause a person to experience the dream. Existence of SCP-938 first suspected soon after the initial performances of SCP-333-A above the minimum threshold? Is SCP-333-C also trying to prevent the dream entity being liberated by trying to destroy SCP-333-A and prevent the dream's spread, as well as preventing its own existence?

Somewhere in there, I can try to work in a SCP-939 link. Maybe imply what's sealed in the dream vault isn't an entity nor even a collection of entities, but concepts capable of imposing themselves upon reality, and 939 is one such concept?

Maybe write the dream as SCP-001, and then mention have a couple researchers discussing it in a Foundation tale. One comments that they get the impression SCP-001 wasn't actually the first. The other says that the original SCP-001 was destroyed years ago, as if this is no big deal.

Idea: Laughter in the Dark

+

Summary: Sapient, incorporeal entity comprised of disembodied eyes and teeth always twisted in a manner suggestive of a grin. It resides in darkness, the only requisite for sufficient darkness being whether or not an object behind it is visible unaided. Although incorporeal, it can't pass through solid objects. If subjected to a sufficiently illuminated environment with no route of escape, it screams constantly. This scream doesn't dissipate in intensity as with a normal sound and soundproofing is ineffectual, instead cutting off abruptly beyond a certain distance.

Its scream isn't a single voice, and whether or not it has its own voice is unknown. Its voices are those of its victims and serve as its chief lure of more prospective victims. It may selectively employ voices of its prior victims. I have a recovery story in mind which demonstrates this but can perhaps be summarized by simply saying the thing's a total ass hole.

A few more random facts:

• The entity is never silent. If left to its own devices in its containment chamber, it may either laugh (pitch varies from a subdued giggle to manic laughter), speak (its speech doesn't share the strange properties of its screams and laughter), or endeavor to breach containment, typically by assailing the reinforced blast door of its chamber (which is replaced on the first of every month). These assaults leave their marks in the form of large dents and gouges in the door resembling claw marks.
• Laughter may or may not be memetic, spreading to those who hear it, requiring a Site-wide lockdown depending on the pitch of the laughter.
  • A giggle might put everyone in range into a generally cheerful mood. Manic laughter might cause hearers to laugh until they hyperventilate.
• Cameras in its enclosure are preferentially assaulted. The entity may or may not refer to them as "impersonal."
  • Pinhole camera maybe hidden in the wall of its containment unit.
• Anyone and anything locked in the enclosure and not bathed in light falls silent. Sometimes, entire objects, people, and animals vanish. Others, only select parts or organs.
• There would be an incident log wherein it began asking for a researcher by name. When the researcher answers the call to "shut the damn thing up," it begins speaking in his niece's voice, eventually saying "Look what I made for you, Uncle █████." followed shortly thereafter by the whispering voice of the researcher's brother, saying "She worked so hard on it. Just pretend to like it, yeah?"
  • What it made was a living, arbitrary amalgamation of body parts from what it had been "fed" while in Foundation custody featuring its same eyes and smile.
    • The entire time its creation is rampaging through the facility, it simply laughs hysterically, making no attempt to escape.
      • Several site personnel are noted to be missing following the incident. When its asked about why it didn't try to escape, it replies in the voice of the researcher whose niece it mimicked prior "I like it here."

---

• Instead of the above Incident, it might "steal" a number of recording devices and possibly a laptop left within its containment cell. Only AFTER it's taken these would it be able to speak, and only in a rasping, distorted electronic voice.
  • As above, it requests a researcher by name.
    • It converses with the researcher at length, insinuating a number of things, including: it is a form of the Crawling Chaos, SCP-426 is a form of the Crawling Chaos, and it's basically God.
      • More specifically, it states that its duty is as it has always been. Come heat death and ultimate darkness when there's no more light to confine it, its power is unrestricted. Following heat death, it reverses entropy and "starts the cycle anew."
        • These are allusions to Isaac Asimov's "The Last Question" and H.P. Lovecraft's Nyarlathotep character. When the laptop's former owner is questioned, they would confirm the works of both authors were contained on the hard drive for leisurely reading. May also reference Ursula K. LeGuin's "The Rule of Names."
    • It apologizes for "digressing," and says the real reason it invited the researcher to speak with it is simply that it's losing its voice.
      • The plate glass separating its chamber from the observation chamber shatters, the door leading out of the observation chamber slaps shut, and the wing of the Site containing it loses power. As this happens, it continues, saying "… and I was wondering if I might borrow yours."
        • When power returns, the researcher is shot as he runs panicked and screaming through the halls. It's worth noting he was doing so despite having his lower jaw, tongue, throat, sternum, and the contents of his chest cavity neatly excised. Autopsy report may or may not describe said researcher thrashing and screaming until cremated in an incinerator, despite numerous gunshot wounds and being pumped full of enough anesthetic to stop the heart of every living thing within the Site.
          • The thing may or may not have twisted, for lack of a better word, the ribs which attach to the spine into a charachature of itself. This would have been plainly visible as the researcher ran screaming through the facility on account of the front half of his rib cage and all its contents being removed.

Contained in a hollow steel shell repaired with metal vapor deposition.

May instead have it really appear to be nothing. Completely intangible entity the existence of which may not be directly quantified in any regard, its existence affirmed only by its actions.

May have it randomly etch messages in the walls of its containment chamber in a number of languages, sometimes employing multiple languages in a single message. Sometimes, these messages appear to be narratives of events, often unsettling in that they can't be completely ruled out as fictitious. Other times, they may be varying degrees of insane/inane babble. May use "A Word," and "Cwn Annwn" for this purpose.

I FUCKING REMEMBER NOW! It may be that anyone attempting to refer to it knows its name, but nobody understands why. Trying to refer to it by name instills the would-be speaker with a typically insurmountable sense of dread. The effect also extends to people who are aware of its existence - the simple prospect of somebody referring to it by name instills in others a sense of dread in much the same way as watching somebody a few paces away drop a flask of nitroglycerin. As such, official policy is to discourage calling it by its name. However, there would be at least one incident where it references "The Rule of Names" indirectly, briefly summarizing it and adding, "This is why you are called [insert researcher's name] and not [BLACK BOXES]." It sways between daring the researcher to call its name, threatening the researcher if he does, and pleading with the researcher to do so. If it does, the results would be redacted, but implied to be horrendous.

Instead of the face, I may have thermal or low-light/long exposure cameras show the various body parts and objects the thing steals apparently nailed to the walls/ceiling with quasi-metallic spikes. These objects nailed to the wall, the spikes themselves, and the expected holes in the wall are not visible or even corporeal under illumination (sweep a flashlight beam over them and they disappear entirely). They may be rearranged at random, and occasionally assembled into… something.

If this is linked to the cat's-eye orb, then some of these body parts may be taken from SCP-022 during the BRSS-06 incident. Could possibly even have a complete, dismembered specimen scattered about its containment chamber.

---

YET ANOTHER APPROACH: Portray entity as childlike but dangerous nonetheless. Maybe contained in the ruins of BRCS-06 by flood lamps. Maybe no signs it exists for years aside from anomalous, powerful kinetic manifestations? Computers may go missing after the incident, later revealed it used them to access Foundation intranet and learned English; took an interest in art, having nothing else to do. Revealed to not understand various concepts, death key among them. May have a log where it converses with a researcher, asking what death is, what life is, whether it's alive or not (the researcher's answer to this would be "I don't know.") if it can die, what "destroy" means and why the Foundation wants to destroy it (if applicable). After being told what death is, it may try to "fix" several that it killed previously, maybe commenting that it still has trouble with faces. Can guess how that goes.

---

MAYBE give the entity a memetic effect where it can only be referred to as "nothing."

"What the fuck is going on?!"

"Nothing's breached containment!"

"What?"

"It's nothing, sir!"

Pretty sure I'm gonna read through this tomorrow and think it's completely retarded.

Laughter in the Dark/"Nothing", Draft 1 (WIP)

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TEXT-DESCRIBING-THE-PIC

Item #: SCP-XXX

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXX is contained in the ruins of Bio-Research and Containment Site-06 by an array of solar-powered floodlights positioned 100m away with multiple backup generator systems maintained on standby. Floodlights are to be inspected daily for damage and burned out bulbs replaced immediately. Light sensors should activate these floodlights upon illumination decreasing below a set threshold; however, manual activation must also be possible.

The structure should be encircled by a reinforced concrete wall, 7m high and 1.5m deep, maintained 90m from the structure.

Description: SCP-XXX is an incorporeal entity which appears to reside within Bio-Research and Containment Site-06. Observation of SCP-XXX has proven difficult, and as such, little is currently known. Most current information stems from footage captured by recovery teams responding to Incident BRCS-06, information gathered by ROV, and the anecdotes of research personnel and recovery teams.

The interior of Bio-Research and Containment Site-06 has sustained significant damage as a result of Incident BRCS-06 making it difficult to determine what is attributable SCP-XXX specifically; however, messages gouged in the interior walls in numerous languages, some of which are composed of multiple languages, are believed to be due to SCP-XXX activity. A selection of these messages, translated to English, is available in Document# XXX-09.

Phenomena documented by recovery teams and subsequent investigation include:

• The spontaneous destruction of a circular section of a reinforced concrete wall, roughly 2.6 meters in diameter, described as appearing similar to the effects of a high-velocity impact by a heavy object yet completely silent aside from the sound of falling debris.
• The wrenching and "weaving" of rebar from the walls, floor, and ceiling to impede the recovery team's progress.
• Sporadic sounds such as footsteps, metal grinding against stone, and noise which rose and fell in tone described as similar to incoherent laughter.

Addendum: [Optional additional paragraphs]

Broken Glass, Draft 1

Electron microscope image of surface layer of SCP-XXX splinters.

Item #: SCP-XXX

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: All samples of and subjects afflicted by SCP-XXX are to be treated as Class 3 bio-hazardous materials. Protective clothing, especially gloves, should be puncture-resistant. There is no known treatment for SCP-XXX; mitigating its spread is possible only through prompt (within two hours of exposure) excision of affected tissues or amputation of affected limbs. Sterilization requires incineration at a minimum temperature of 1,500° C, or complete dissolution of silicate matter in hydrofluoric acid.

Description: SCP-XXX is a silicate parasitic phenomenon. Masses of SCP-XXX are jagged and irregular in shape, to the naked eye indistinguishable from shards of broken glass. These shards are not solid, but densely packed, layered arrangements of millions of microscopic infectious splinters.

On contact with the skin of warm blooded organisms, the surface layer of splinters stands on end and oscillates, embedding in the skin and entering the bloodstream; even light contact with a shard's 'smooth' surface results in mild superficial lacerations and bleeding. Splinters lodge randomly in blood vessel and capillary walls. Postmortem examination of SCP-XXX infected subjects has found splinters embedded in the capillaries of every major organ, with especially high concentrations in the brain and lungs; however, more than 99% of splinters embedded in capillaries of vital organs failed to develop. Conversely, more than 99% of splinters embedded in skin and muscle tissue developed as normal.

Developing SCP-XXX splinters become encapsulated by nervous tissue produced by the host's body. This enveloping mass of neurons is highly sensitive, and its growth is believed to be a mechanism by which SCP-XXX deters its hosts from removing shards prematurely. The growth of these shards is painless; however, slight contact with the area surrounding a developing shard is sufficient to elicit a heightened pain response. After an average of two weeks (exact rate of growth varies dependent upon host species) the first shards will begin to pierce the skin.

Approximately four weeks after initial infection, the nervous tissue encapsulating SCP-XXX shards begins to wither and die. Infected subjects report localized numbness of tissues around the shards and an intense itch. If left to their own devices, subjects will scratch affected areas obsessively and attempt to remove shards by hand with little regard for blood loss, leading to immediate reinfection.

BRCS-06

NOTE: I'm probably going to redo this as a first-person narrative, since I meandered in that general direction as I went and am unhappy with how forced various sections feel.

Interviewed: Dr. Smascher

Interviewer: [REDACTED]

Foreword: Dr. Smascher is one of four survivors of Incident BRCS-06, recovered by RRF-7 en route to Bio-Research and Containment Site-07 with multiple injuries, some of which appeared to have received medical attention. This interview was conducted upon the stabilization of Dr. Smascher's condition.

<Begin Log>

Interviewer: Are you ready to give your statement, doctor?

Dr. Smascher: I don't remember what happened inside.

Interviewer: Inside?

Dr. Smascher: Site-06.

Interviewer: (pause) What's the first thing you remember?

Dr. Smascher: Containment breach alarms. Grinding and… red and the stench of copper and cordite and ozone and black and more red.

Interviewer: What's the first thing you remember clearly?

Dr. Smascher: Running in the rain. My head and chest hurt. I think I was bleeding. It was cold. I had an M16 and… several magazines of ammunition. Five or six. Something was red. I was running from it.

Interviewer: Was anyone else with you?

Dr. Smascher: No.

Interviewer: According to the report filed by the EMTs who found you at around 0340 hours, there was an assault rifle… an M16A1, a short distance away. How did you come by it?

Dr. Smascher: I don't remember.

Interviewer: Local police investigated and acquired the rifle. Their report indicates they found two rounds remaining in the loaded magazine, two empty magazines nearby, and no fewer than eighty-three spent 5.56 casings within three meters. What were you shooting at?

Dr. Smascher: I'm not sure. It followed me. I don't think it realized I saw it. It was… something white. I emptied two mags and most of a third before the weapon jammed; as soon as I fired the first shot, it… screamed, and started to charge. It never got closer than a hundred meters or so before it went down. It kept coming for a moment after the weapon jammed… stumbled, crawled, collapsed… stopped moving. Didn't stop screaming right away.

Interviewer: You say it "went down"… Where's the body?

(Long pause.)

Interviewer: Neither the police report forwarded to us from the local department nor RRF-7's report mention a corpse of any sort in the area. (Pause.) How were you able to see it? There was no mention of low-light optics recovered at the scene.

Dr. Smascher: The eyes showed it to me.

Interviewer: Pardon?

Dr. Smascher: The red. The eyes I couldn't get away from. They were waiting for me. Every step, every turn, they were always waiting -

<End Log>

<Begin Log>

Interviewer: You say, "the eyes showed it to you." Has 938 breached containment?

Dr. Smascher: I think so.

Interviewer: What do you mean, they "showed" it to you?

Dr. Smascher: There was no other light source. It was dark, storming. The eyes clustered around it. I don't think it could see them. I don't think it knew I saw it.

Interviewer: What happened after the… white thing… went down?

Dr. Smascher: I dropped the rifle. It was heavy. I didn't think I needed it any more. I sat down to rest for a moment; must have blacked out. Woke up in the back of an ambulance.

Interviewer: The EMTs reported you were delirious, likely due to blood loss, and that you begged them not to take you to the hospital. Why?

Dr. Smascher: It was all going to die. I knew what they were going to do. It did too. It was waiting for me.

Interviewer: What knew?

Dr. Smascher: 938.

Interviewer: What were they going to do?

Dr. Smascher: Restrain me to the bed and give me a blood transfusion, most likely. They seemed to be operating under the assumption I was mentally ill. Probably also sedate me, hook up an EKG. That's what they did.

Interviewer: When you arrived at the hospital?

Dr. Smascher: Yes.

Interviewer: Then what?

Dr. Smascher: I dreamed I was back in Site-06. The incident was still progressing. Automated defense turrets activated periodically despite the lack of power. There were no lights, but I could see several meters into the dark just fine. There were bloody prints on the walls and ceiling, probably left by 939. I couldn't get out; each door opened into a hallway identical to the one I was just in, and sometimes the eyes were waiting. When I avoided the eyes, I came across 939, or the grinding sound got louder and the scent of ozone grew overpowering. One 939 was singing. I don't remember the song. Beautiful voice… which is a shame, I suppose.

Dr. Smascher: Eventually, I started to hear rain. I thought that was reassuring. You can't hear rain inside Site-06, the walls are too thick, and that meant I wasn't really there. I was jolted awake by a lightning strike on a palm tree a short distance away from the hospital, close enough that the crack hadn't lost its sharpness. My arms were restrained. I broke my left hand trying to free it. I tore the EKG leads off and removed the right hand restraint before the second strike came, knocking out power to the hospital. I was blinded for a moment, and the eyes were back.

Dr. Smascher: I grabbed the blood pack from the IV stand, tied it to my arm with a strip of fabric torn from the sheets on the bed and threw a chair through the room's window. It's lucky I was on the first floor; I don't think I looked before I jumped. How many did it get?

Interviewer: (Pause, shuffling papers) Eleven initially… sixteen before the building was evacuated and cut off from the grid. After you left the hospital, then what?

Dr. Smascher: I started running for the bridge. It was a few blocks away, then six miles to Site-07. I had just crossed when I started to hear screams and gunfire and other things from the Site-06 side. The sun was rising when I flagged down RRF-7's convoy. A corpsmen checked me over, made sure I wasn't afflicted by anything with lingering effects. Contacted a field agent to pick me up and transport me to Site-07. You know the rest.

[To follow Estes' interview, preceding Smascher's] Rapid Response Force 7 was dispatched following Officer Estes report of a breach at Bio-Research and Containment Site-06 to reestablish control over the Site or, should this prove infeasible, to reestablish control of escaped SCP and salvage as many within Site-06 as possible. On 21 September, Captain XXXXXXXXX declared the island of [REDACTED] "Salted Ground" and ordered the evacuation and permanent relocation of its inhabitants. The reasons cited were the deteriorating situation, heavy loss of life among personnel, inability to defend the civilian population, "gross incompetence" on the part of reinforcements dispatched to assist RRF-7² and phenomena not attributable to any known SCP suggestive of "[an] emergent Keter-class entity or entities."

Version Two

My memory of the incident is something between disjointed impressions; sound, color, and scent; and nothing at all. For my part, I recall what preceded with clarity; C227 is purely a temporary anterograde agent. It has no impact on the formation of memories pertinent to events occurring more than a matter of minutes prior to exposure. It's a mixed blessing if ever there was one.

[[Unsure of paragraph order]] The incident began with a primary breach of containment involving some sort of obscenely potent electromagnetic anomaly. I don't recall its number, and I wasn't cleared for the project, so I had little in the way of direct knowledge; I can't tell you why it was the responsibility of a Bio-Site, but I wondered about it myself. Judging by the alarms which signaled a containment breach in progress, it was Keter. The alarms didn't last for very long before the site-wide loss of power. Backups failed outright; I'm not sure if it was due to lax maintenance, which I doubt, or if the anomaly responsible for the primary breach simply burned out most every electrical device in the site. Shortly after power was lost, containment of nine SCP-939 specimens was compromised, as well as SCP-940.

The next thing I recall with some modicum of clarity is running. It was night, with a thunderstorm raging overhead, and a concept refusing to release its hold on the forefront of my mind: red. Blood was streaming from my head and chest, each breath accompanied by a twinge of pain in my diaphragm comparable to twisting a blade, but that wasn't the cause for the concept's prominence. It was something more nebulous and ill-defined; something was red. I was running from something red. What - what was I running from - what did this to me - what if it caught me again - what if it didn't need to? It was something red, and this was all I knew. I didn't even notice the eyes until they started trying to call my attention to themselves. They were red, too.

…

I was the director of research into SCP-939 at Bio-Research and Containment Site-06. Our goals for the research program were nebulous at best. There were several, myself included, who believed we stood to reap bountiful rewards if we could gain an understanding of their origin and function. Others advocated simple eradication and believed our research should focus on this goal, first and foremost. It was the odd juxtaposition of their existence which both fascinated and terrified me, the chasm between life and death that they made their abode, from which they launched their incursions to either side as they saw fit.

I've seen dashcam footage of a police sergeant stumbling across one as it scavenged roadkill in a ditch on the outskirts of Sacramento. A single clip from the officer's pistol, a Beretta 9mm, was all it took. The thing collapsed on the spot and never so much as twitched. Our necropsy found just one bullet, lodged in the sixth thoracic vertebra, and a few grazing wounds. I've seen helmet cam footage of Nu-7 clearing operations where one refused to stop singing despite dozens of wounds from API rounds, despite decapitation, despite a basketball-sized chunk of flesh being blown out of the torso, despite three-fourths of its body blackened and smoldering with zirconium burns. SCP-939-62, frozen in liquid nitrogen for seven years after apparent death by inhalation of VX, escaped cryo during a three hour power failure following an assault by CI. 939-101 has been in cryo for just over ten years and it's never stopped babbling… but I digress.

Cat's-Eye Orb/Fracture Projection (WIP)

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Item #: SCP-NNN

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-NNN is kept within Vault 13E, locked in place atop its socketed 1.5m tall pedestal. It is not to be moved for any reason. Its cracked face should be oriented toward a series of three identical ferrofluid veils measuring 2m x 2m x 10cm, each backed by its own electromagnet array (consult Document# NNN-C2 for schematics). Power for these electromagnet arrays should be drawn from the facility's main grid with four (4) backup generators maintained on standby. Current should be cycled at fifty (50) Hz. Containment must be inspected at least once daily and any malfunctioning equipment reported immediately. Personnel should be advised against bringing metallic objects into the room.

The particulate suspended within the ferrofluid should be composed of an alloy of 30% iron and 70% iridium by mass.

Description: SCP-NNN is a transparent quartz sphere, 3kg in mass, which measures approximately 7cm in diameter. A spherical chatoyant green gemstone measuring 7mm in diameter, visually similar to emerald, is embedded within its center. Spiderweb cracks cover around 15% of SCP-NNN's surface. (See Addendum 08-09-1989, RE: Recovery)

The gemstone within SCP-NNN shines faintly with an apparent magnitude of 3.88. The shadow cast by the interplay of this light and the cracks in the orb causes the propagation of fractures through any medium which the shadow falls upon, regardless of the physical properties of the medium in question. Illumination of this shadow has proven ineffectual at inhibiting its effect. The rate of propagation scales proportionally with the density of the material on which the shadow falls; a 1cm thick aluminum plate will shatter after approximately sixteen (16) seconds of continuous exposure, while an identical thickness of iridium will shatter after approximately one hundred thirty-four (134) seconds. In static gases or fluids these fractures manifest as voids which do not appear to cause fluid displacement.

Additional anomalous properties of the fractures have been noted, including inconsistent distance readouts from laser rangefinders and unexplained, faintly luminous artifacts in long exposure photographs of the fractures taken in total darkness. The reflection of light originating from SCP-NNN has been ruled out as a possible explanation for the later phenomenon.

Addendum 08-09-1989, RE: Recovery: SCP-NNN became known after an intoxicated and irate Mr. ██████ █████████ checked into an ER in Paris with a severely mangled hand, ranting incoherently about broken glass. When Mr. █████████ was questioned following the amputation of his hand, he stated his wound had been caused by a family heirloom. Mr. █████████ explained that he had been considering breaking the glass and selling the gemstone inside due to his current financial situation, but decided against it, accidentally dropping it as he returned it to his mantle. After injuring his hand attempting to retrieve it, he placed it in the kitchen sink with the water running to rinse the object off before seeking treatment, commenting the faucet was probably still on. The running water proved to be marginally effective at limiting the damage caused by the object until a recovery team could be dispatched. No reliable information about the origin of the object nor precisely how long it had been in Mr. █████████'s family could be obtained.

Telekill Rewrite, Draft 1

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NOTE: Currently a work in progress.

Item #: SCP-148

Object Class: Euclid (?)

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-148-1 is to be stored as cast ingots, contained in Storage Unit 16-A of Sector-19, and is not permitted to be within 2.5 km of an extrasensory SCP unless tests are authorized to be conducted with said SCP. UNFINISHED; NEEDS SCP-148-2 ENTOMBMENT DETAILS.

Description: SCP-148-1 is a grey-white metallic alloy with a green tinge. It melts at approximately 2200° C and boils at approximately 3500° C. It exhibits strength, ductility, and workability similar to stainless steel, qualifying as HRC 39 in Rockwell hardness tests. SCP-148-1 has a density of 9.78 g/cm³ at room temperature. Carbon, iron, gallium, hafnium, lead, platinum, iridium, silicon, and titanium have been isolated as its constituent elements; however, these elements in the ratios found account for only 80% of the total mass of the alloy.

SCP-148-1 is capable of inhibiting long range telepathic and extrasensory phenomena, while initially re-emitting at a much lesser severity. The degree of inhibition is dependent upon the intensity of the phenomena and the thickness of alloy utilized. Exposure to such phenomena or extended proximity to most animal life causes the gradual decay of SCP-148-1 to SCP-148-2; as SCP-148-1 decays, it re-emits previously absorbed energies at an intensity . The rate of decay is exponential and varies with the intensity of phenomena to which SCP-148-1 is exposed. The decay process is characterized by a gradual intensification and darkening of SCP-148-1's green tinge, eventually causing the material to appear black, coupled with the illusion surface pitting and eventual loss of 20% of its mass.

SCP-148-2 is any SCP-148-1 which has lost 10-20% of its initial mass. At 90% initial mass, the material's absorption effectively negates its own re-emissions, rendering it effectively useless for containment and protective purposes in most circumstances³ Upon fully decaying to 80% of its initial mass, SCP-148-2 appears to no longer inhibit such phenomena. Cognitohazardous emissions from the FORGOT WHAT THE FUCK I WAS SAYING

SCP-148 was retrieved from the metallurgy department of Prometheus Labs' base facility during a Foundation sweep. Computers concerned with the project had unveiled that the substance was to be trademarked and marketed as "Telekill" by a private industrial company. However, due to the all but complete destruction of Prometheus Labs, the trademark and licensing were canceled and the project apparently scrapped. The Foundation has requested that the company send all SCP-148 received from Prometheus Labs to the Foundation under the guise of international distribution protocol. Although the Foundation has collected ''some'' of SCP-148 from the company, attempts to contact the industrial company have proven fruitless. It is uncertain if the Foundation has recovered all of SCP-148.

SCP-148 has a density of 9.78 g/cm³

According to the original article, total volume of SCP-148 on hand is approximately 125 m³. Total mass of 1222.5 metric tons. This is open to revision.

As the material degrades, it loses its "phantom" mass. This progressive decay eventually results in cessation of absorption of the phenomena, with degradation progressing more rapidly as more mass is lost, the acceleration caused by the material's own re-emission of absorbed phenomena with no discernible half-life. Re-emission tends to be scrambled and discordant, while oftentimes still retaining some identifiable characteristics of the absorbed phenomena.

As its decay feeds back into itself and the intensity NEVER lessens, storing large quantities together is comparable to nuclear power excursion of ever-increasing intensity, but with fhtagn instead of neutrons and shit.

Back Burner

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Item #: SCP-XXX

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXX is entombed within Exam Room 3, as are all of Exam Room 3's contents, beneath a casing consisting of █ to █ meters of lead, steel, and concrete in Containment Site █, as per Dr. Jared's recommendation.

SCP-XXX is to be kept within a 5m x 5m x 3m chamber with walls at least .5 meters thick comprised of an outer layer of carbon-carbon with multiple, alternating inner layers of titanium and depleted uranium. This chamber is to be monitored at all times on CCTV. SCP-XXX is to be allowed one (1) laboratory rat as its host in order to hinder cognition and virulence. This host, SCP-XXX-A, is to be kept on fully automated life support. A minimum of three (3) back-up power systems are to be maintained on standby. SCP-XXX is to be the only SCP maintained at Containment Site █. No more than three personnel are to be on the premises of Containment Site █ at any given time.

Under no circumstances should SCP-XXX be allowed multiple hosts nor any hosts possessing a more developed central nervous system than a rat. Any maintenance, including insertion of a new host specimen in the inevitable event of SCP-XXX-A mortality, is to be facilitated via robot. If necessary, physical entry by Level 3 personnel is permissible for no more than three cumulative hours per individual.

Following a cumulative exposure of three hours or ninety (90) days stationed at Containment Site █, whichever comes first, personnel are to be rotated away from the facility, after which they are ineligible for return. Containment Site █ personnel are required to submit to remotely observed EEG evaluation weekly. Anomalous EEG readings require Containment Site █ purged immediately, the procedure initiated by remote observer(s).

Reestablishing control of SCP-XXX following a containment breach is to be directed by select members of O5. This is necessary to prevent SCP-XXX learning what measures may be used against it.

Description: SCP-XXX is a contagious, sentient, cognitohazardous gestalt entity which first attracted the attention of the Foundation in early June, 18██. The first known human contact with SCP-XXX occurred when the late Mr. █████ became infected after attempting to dispose of dead and dying fauna in and around a lake in close proximity to his residence – the first known victims of SCP-XXX. The relatively simplistic nervous systems of the fauna present proved unable to bear the strain imposed by SCP-XXX infection.

SCP-XXX does not possess a physical form, instead living vicariously through the psychokinetic manifestations of its hosts. To achieve this, SCP-XXX [DATA EXPUNGED] resulting in gradual mental decline and culminating in brain death of the afflicted. SCP-XXX also interferes with standard patterns of brain activity, inhibiting sleep and hampering memory formation. Individuals infected by SCP-XXX report seeing a vaguely humanoid apparition, SCP-XXX-1, (see Addendum XXX-1) which they insist is physically responsible for all psychokinetic phenomena attributable to SCP-XXX. This apparition is reportedly "visible" even after the optic nerves of infected individuals have been severed. Infected individuals shown footage of Incident XXX-1 have reported seeing the apparition therein.

As SCP-XXX infects an increasing number of hosts, a number of changes are observed. These include:

• Reduced strain on the central nervous system of its hosts proportional to the number of hosts, leading to greater longevity and mental acuity
  • This allows for an increasing range of viable host fauna
• Proportionally lessened exposure time required for SCP-XXX to infect new hosts
• Proportionally greater sentience quotient
• An exponentially increasing range at which infection may occur
• An exponentially increasing capacity for psychokinetic manipulation of physical objects
• An exponentially increasing maximum distance SCP-XXX-1 may be reported from its nearest host
• Additionally, SCP-XXX-1 is reported to take on an increasingly tangible appearance

The maximum distance SCP-XXX-1 has been reported from SCP-XXX's nearest host corresponds to its maximum range of infection and psychokinetic manipulation. However, it is unknown if these are the actual limits of SCP-XXX.

Addendum XXX-1: Descriptions of SCP-XXX-1 vary significantly from observer to observer. The only commonalities are a preference for bipedalism, an emaciated, almost skeletal physique, significant elasticity of the entire body, a black, plated carapace, and a propensity for reshaping itself. This metamorphic ability reportedly extends as far as generation of additional limbs.

Addendum XXX-2: All attempts at communication with SCP-XXX have failed. It appears apathetic or incapable of discourse.

Addendum XXX-3: Documentation pertaining to the acquisition of SCP-XXX may be found here.

Assorted Musings/Other

A Word

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The lost word did not idly nor innocently pass from collective knowledge. Rather, it no longer wished to be known

Cwn Annwn

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"I believe it was on that vessel during the night of March the Eleventh that they finally caught up with him. I do not know what it was he thought in his final moments for the diary ends two days prior to his noted absence by the vessel's crew. I do, however, know what was found within his quarters.

"Firstly, the door to his quarters was discovered locked. The captain called several times that the vessel had arrived at port, with no response from within. The decision was made to kick the door in, as a key to the room could not be located. He was found absent, and this is what first piqued the interest of the crew, as the door could only be locked from within. Furthermore, there were no windows large enough to admit a man through them within these quarters.

"An empty bottle of whiskey was found, lying open on its side upon the nightstand beside the bed. His journal lay next to the empty whiskey bottle, as well as his Colt revolver, and no less than eighteen rounds of .45 ammunition lay scattered about the floor. These rounds were probably the second sign something was amiss to the crew of the vessel for each one bore upon its primer a mark identical to one the weapon would leave upon discharge, though not a single round's propellant had ignited. The same was true for the six rounds within the weapon's cylinder. In the bathroom attached to the quarters, a noose was found dangling from the lighting fixture, cut cleanly at the loop. Based on this and the events recounted in the diary preceding - I'm sorry? I was the one to kick the door in.

"As I was saying, based on the aforementioned bizarreness of circumstance and the events recounted in his journal, a fairly clear sequence of events may be established… No. Because I burned it on the spot.

"I'd like to believe he spent his final moments dreaming in a whiskey-induced stupor, oblivious of the terrors bearing down on him. Perhaps he dreamed of skipping stones 'cross the River Thames during his misspent youth growing up in London, the sound of splashing growing gradually quieter as the stones slowed and grew more distant, just as the sound of their footfalls upon the mirror surface of that abnormally serene sea fell deathly silent as they neared their quarry. That not a single crew member reported hearing a scream nor struggle is evidence he was either not conscious when they got to him, or they caught him completely off his guard, or perhaps he welcomed the finality they offered when he realized there could be no escape; not across two countries, not one hundred miles out to sea, not in a hemp necktie, not in the barrel of his gun… but, perhaps in the bottle. I just pray that it was truly finality that they brought with them."

On Blood and Thunder

One sees who's blind
as rainfall sounds sublime.
The heart's cadence
shall be my guiding light.

I see all places.
It never leaves my sight.
Even death's stasis
is no cause for remiss.

Enticing is thought's scent.
Fear's silent scream; dissent.
It shall be savored long
after its life is spent.

Longing becomes an ache.
A hunger one can do naught but sate.
I steal its life away
leaving blood and thunder in my wake.

Time Out Outline Thing

Time Out is a spherical chamber with a diameter of fifteen meters. Its inner surface is lined with thick, ablative carbon-carbon plates to protect the chamber walls from the extreme heat of operation; this heat shielding must be replaced following every use. Additionally, the walls of the chamber incorporate a liquid water cooling system, or whatever's appropriate. Fuel mixtures of either oxygen and dicyanoacetylene, oxygen and fluoridated aluminum, or a combination of all three at the optimum ratios for combustion may be selected as the operator desires. Oxygen and dicyanoacetylene may be burned continuously, while any operation utilizing fluoridated aluminum triggers the system to run in pulse-detonation mode automatically.

Steady burn of oxygen and dicyanoacetylene is straight-forward; continuous heat of about 4500 degrees Celsius with the atmosphere of the chamber vented periodically to prevent the pressure from rising too high. A burn utilizing fluoridated aluminum causes the system to run analogously to a pulse-detonation aircraft engine. Dicyanoacetylene may be burned along with fluoridated aluminum, yielding enormous temperatures and pressures. While running in pulse-detonation mode, the operator may set the device to run at between ten to one hundred detonation cycles a second. Following each detonation in pulse-detonation mode, Time Out is briefly vented to reduce the pressure inside. I don't really care to do the maths to figure out an accurate analogy, but going from the top of Mt. Everest to the bottom of the Marianas trench and back again fifty times a second seems an apt comparison for the pressure within.

Scenarios

Am considering drafting a reference listing of various scenarios which would provide at-a-glance information on precisely what layer of hell a situation and the hand basket containing it came to rest in or is passing through. Below is an example of one such scenario, and is just about as bad as they get.

Terminology explanation thus far: (Rough outlines for what I've got, in case anyone wants to pitch their own ideas)

• Stormy: Situation requires the activation of last resort measures. These measures are activated successfully.
  • Tempest: As above, last resort measures are warranted and activate successfully. However, communications with other Foundation installations are severed; activation of last resort measures is or is reasonably expected to be the first indication to other Foundation installations of an incident.
• Tranquil: Situation requires the activation of last resort measures. These measures fail to activate.
  • Silent: As above, last resort measures are warranted but fail to activate. Additionally, communications with other Foundation installations are severed for the duration of the incident.
• Day: Situation is subsequently brought under control.
• Night: Keter- and potentially Euclid-class SCP uncontained in the wake of the incident, or reasonably projected to be uncontained.

Stormy Day: Containment breach incident involving one or multiple Keter- or Euclid-class SCP. To qualify as a Stormy Day scenario, the following criteria must be met:

• Site security is unable to control the situation.
• The situation is deemed to warrant activation of last resort measures. In such facilities that possess nuclear devices, these devices are detonated.
• Post-incident assessment determines last resort measures effectively contained or ended the threat. This regrettably necessitates 100% mortality of site personnel.

Silent Night: Containment breach incident involving one or multiple Keter-class SCP. Euclid-class SCP may also either breach containment or have their containment otherwise compromised as a consequence. To qualify as a Silent Night scenario, the following criteria must be met:

• Communications with other Foundation installations are severed, either prior to or as a result of the incident. Site personnel are unable to report the incident nor immediately request assistance.
• Site security is unable to control of the situation. The incident is still ongoing at the time Command Sites are notified.
• The situation has progressed uncontrolled for a minimum of six (6) hours.
• A minimum ninety percent (90%) mortality rate among personnel, excluding D-class.
• Last resort measures fail outright or otherwise have no appreciable affect. In such facilities that possess nuclear devices, these devices fail to detonate.
• A number of SCP are missing or otherwise uncontained in the wake of the incident.

A Silent Night situation may be declared to site personnel immediately upon failure of last resort measures and loss of communications with other Foundation facilities.

Example: Incident BRCS-06.

Stormy Night: Containment breach involving one or multiple Keter- or Euclid-class SCP. To qualify as a Stormy Night scenario, the following criteria must be met:

• Site security is unable to control the situation.
• The situation is deemed to warrant activation of last resort measures. In such facilities that possess nuclear devices, these devices are detonated.
• Post-incident assessment determines last resort measures were ineffectual. Site personnel mortality rate 100%.
• A number of SCP are missing or otherwise uncontained in the wake of the incident.

Personnel File

Name: Smascher, Delano A.		ID No.: 7369.5233.3539.3840		Security Clearance: 4 2 Rescinded; see below.
DOB: 1960/07/10	Recruit Date: 1981/02/13	Position: Containment Specialist / Research Staff		███████████████

Qualifications: Physiology, Human and Humanoid (Ph.D.), Mechanical Engineering (Bachelor's), Organic Chemistry (Bachelor's)
Assignment: N/A	Current Site or Location: N/A	Previous Stations: ABCA-14, BCRS-06, BRA-12, ████
Items Researched: SCP-939, SCP-940	Active Projects: N/A	Prior Projects: SCP-939 R&D, SCP-940 Research & Countermeasure Development

Status: MISSING; PROBABLE DESERTION

Last Updated: 2011/11/21

Footnotes

1. Journal? Statements made during aforementioned interview? Stream of thoughts while escaping?

2. As of September 21, supplementary combat, logistics, and research personnel had not yet arrived.

3. I was contemplating its use in not completely blocking emissions from something, but potentially scrambling them to some degree. This would only be used in certain circumstances in which jamming, but dealing with more fhtagn overall, is preferable.