- Groovy Adventure
- Our Lady of Sorrow
- Fartstompers
- Dead Friend
- It Was Nothing After All
- Freddy Sinclair
- Master Surgeon Sprinkles
- One with the Trees
- To do list:
- Hall of the Warriors (Postponed 'til Further Experience)
- Vessels
- Unnatural Evolution
Item #: SCP-####
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures:
Description: SCP-#### is a heavily modified Fender guitar amplifier.
Item #: SCP-####
Object Class:
Special Containment Procedures:
Description: SCP-#### is a hospital by the name of "St. Dymphna Hospital for the Sickly and Elder" located in Northern Ireland, in the village of ██████.
Item #: SCP-####
Object Class: Eucild
Special Containment Procedures: All SCP-#### instances are to be kept in modified humanoid containment cells, fitted with miniaturized air ducts, and optimized waste receptacles.
Description:
Item #: SCP-####
Object Class: Eucild
Special Containment Procedures:
Description: SCP-#### is an Atmospheric Diving Suit produced by inventor Chester E. MacDuffee, patented circa 1911.
This is the story of a man named Freddy Sinclair.
Freddy is just like your average man. He gets up at about six, drinks coffee, has a white collar job and joins the early morning commute on the I90 to the city. Except Freddy isn't travelling to a luscious skyscraper to earn his weekly paycheck. Freddy is driving out to an abandoned factory in the countryside. Taking an exit off of the expressway, Freddy drives through the countryside for roughly 15 minutes before approaching a car scrapyard. He drives his rusty 2005 Chevrolet Cavalier into the valley of seemingly dead cars and finds a space to park his own. He then finished listening to whatever song was on 103.3 before turning the key on his vehicle and exiting the scrapyard. Freddy does this every day.
He walks to the abandoned factory on the other side of the road. The building is a very large, dark gray building with three giant smokestacks protruding from atop of the roof.
The guinea pig was bored and looking for entertainment. He wandered the halls of Site-19, occasionally having to remind people that they were a step away from killing a respectable researcher. He scuttled from hallway to hallway, peering into cracks under doors, listening to conversations next to the many water taps and coffee machines, looking for anything to pique his interest with no prevail. He was able to pull a prank on some fresh blood by tying his shoes together while he was chowing down a sub. The kid fell flat on his face with a loud thud, which made the guinea pig give out an unexpected roar of laughter from his tiny chest.
After what felt like hours of wandering, the guinea pig stumbled upon the medical wing. The door was left open, no doctors were inside. Just a line of gurneys with the sick and the injured laying upon them. He scurried to one of the gurneys and looked at the clipboard attached on the front. This one read:
NAME: Harold Johnson
RANK: MTF, Staff Sargent
INJURY: Bullet wound in the knee
CURRENT STATUS: Bullet removed, recovering
Then he ran to the next:
NAME: Richard Cabeza
RANK: Researcher, Level 3
INJURY: 3rd degree burns
CURRENT STATUS: Unconscious, hypothesized to have passed out due to pain Awake, given pain medication
He scuttled to the next, and this one made him smile:
NAME: Tanner Elam
RANK: MTF, Private
INJURY: Bullet wounds in abdomen, left arm, and shoulder due to careless disposal of unspent cartridge into fire.
CURRENT STATUS: Removal of bullet fragments successful. Awaiting recovery from anesthesia.
The Foundation never seemed to have a shortage of borderline retarded MTF soldiers in their roster. Where do they even find these people? He couldn't believe that the Foundation bestowed their trust in people who will accidentally throw magazine cartridges into bonfires (assuming it was accidental). Or maybe they're hired to act as the guy you throw behind you while running away from danger, that would make sense. Either way the guinea pig was bored, and there was an unconscious newbie MTF laying in front of him. This was going to be fun.
Tanner slowly opened his eyes, realizing he was in a he'd never seen before. He glanced right and noticed the row of gurneys he was currently in. There was a guy with a tourniquet on his leg, and a guy that looked like he lost a fight with a toaster oven. Then he whipped his head left and noticed a furry rat standing on his hind legs on top of a clipboard.
"Ah! Thank god you woke up!" exclaimed the rat.
"Wha- Where am I?" Tanner inquired.
"Your in the medical wing, son. You were in a gruesome firefight with a bonfire, and ya lost. Had to remove all of the bullet fragments from yer arm and torso. I'm er… Chief Surgeon Sprinkles"
"You- You're a rat! A talking rat!"
"Hey! Guinea pig is the appropriate term asshole! How DARE you compare me to one of those… things! Now I wish I would have left the scalpel in there…"
"But, how did you even get the bullets out? You're a ra—- a guinea pig! With little guinea pig hands!"
"That's for me to know and for you to be thankful for. Heh, funny thing is I didn't even know how to remove a bullet before today…"
Every time the guinea pig spoke, Tanner's face turned another shade of red and his voice one note higher.
"Oh my god, get me out of here!"
"Whoa, take it easy buddy. You just woke up from a anesthesia, your legs won't be able to—", it was too late. The kid jumped out of bed too quickly and landed his face where the feet usually tread.
- Something to do with a guitar. Maybe along the lines of powerfully explosive sound, but with a purpose. That's gonna be hard to pull off.
- A tale about a guinea pig surgeon, because tahunu is making me, and Soulless will give me 10,000 respect points. (Thank Silber for the name.)
- And a tale for Fausto's self-insert (a half tree-half man named Professor Caleb "Faust" Aponte). Will in trade make me a tale of my choice.
- Write: It Was Nothing After All. People seem to like it.
- SCP Idea: A building that is continuously being built upwards and stays upright by an unknown force. Look to this picture for reference:
- Another SCP Idea: A pocket dimension that is contains a desert with a giant metropolis of buildings inside. Buildings identified appear to be copies of existing building from many different cities worldwide.
- Moar Idea: An abandoned building that when entered, locks people inside. Once entering, the hallways and rooms are winding and infinite. The inside is inhabited by really creepy half-humanoid beings that appear to be half human, half what-the-fuck-is-that (I guess mutant is the right word). If the things aren't fed within a month's time, they will creep out of the building and hunt people on the streets, eating them alive. To counter-act, the Foundation throws very unlucky cows into the building every two weeks.
- Even Moar Idea: A hardcover book that is title-less. Opening the book to the first page will reveal the sentence "THERE IS NOWHERE TO RUN". Once the sentence is read, anyone within a 50 meter radius will try to kill the reader. The attackers will use any resources necessary to kill the reader. You can thank your dreams for this one.
- Tale Idea: In order for the junior class researchers to show their appreciation for the senior officers, they decide to perform a play for them. The play is VERY poorly done which leads to hilarity and crude criticism from the senior staff.
- 'Nother Idear: An mp3 file that when listened to when travelling, will always result in the traveler arriving inside of a beach-side shack in the midst of a deep fog in Ireland at exactly 4:32 PM.
- Herp Derp: A young woman that appears every Saturday night on a curb in Sacramento. She will stand or sit next an apartment building, sobbing until a taxi cab is in the vicinity. She will flag down the car and get in, asking the driver to take her somewhere far away. Creativity ensues.
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures:
Description: SCP-XXXX is a red brick house located in ██████, █████ ████████, USA.
SCP-XXXX upon discovery. |
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Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is to be bordered by a security fence fitted with barbed wire and patrolled by security personnel. Infrared surveillance into the facility is to be monitored and recorded. Any changes in anomalous behavior are to be reported to the highest ranking officer assigned to SCP-XXXX and are to be recorded in a daily status report. Any instances of SCP-XXXX-2 are to be intercepted and brought to Site-██ for questioning. If SCP-XXXX-2 instances are unresponsive, they are to be terminated and brought to the Site-██ medical wing for harvesting.
SCP-XXXX-1 surveying the surrounding area of SCP-XXXX. |
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Description: SCP-XXXX is an abandoned 3-D printing facility located in ████████, ██████, USA that was used for printing organs and structural tissues. The building had become quarantined and condemned on October 23, 205█ due to the breach of SCP-████ during the [DATA EXPUNGED]. It is currently unknown when the building became inhabited by SCP-XXXX-1.
SCP-XXXX-1 is the group designation for the corporeal beings inhabiting SCP-XXXX. SCP-XXXX-1 instances are outfitted with what appears to be a dark hooded robe of an unidentifiable manufacturer. SCP-XXXX-1 instances can operate all machinery inside the building, actively creating new synthetic human organs and tissues at speeds up to five times faster than conventional standards.
Once new organs are created, SCP-XXXX-1 moves them to a nearby operating table. These organs are laid out and assembled, connecting each organ to their appropriate systems and stitched together with surgical stitching1. The new organ systems are then connected at their respective positions of human anatomy and are covered by a synthetic skin. Once assembled, the newly created carcass will become animate and sapient.
SCP-XXXX-2 is the designation given to the newly created organism. As of 6/██/20██, it is unknown exactly how SCP-XXXX-2 gains it's consciousness. Thermal imaging of the assembly process reveals that a spherical entity approximately 1 meter in diameter is observed to enter the body immediately before SCP-XXXX-2's animated state. Instances of SCP-XXXX-2 bare no fingerprints, no body hair, and are gender-less. Every instance of SCP-XXXX-2 appears identical, but each instances' motives differentiate from each other.
Many instances of SCP-XXXX-2 claim to be individuals that have been deceased in the prior year2. Many instances have claimed that they have 'reanimated' in order to contact loved ones. Other instances state their hatred of apparent related individuals, and claim to have 'come back' to exact revenge. All interviews designed to reveal the answer of which the consciousness of all SCP-XXXX-2 instances have originated have resulted in resistance to cooperate any further. The production rate of SCP-XXXX-2 is roughly three instances every day. Efforts to enter the building have been met by deadly force by SCP-XXXX-1.
Newly created instances of SCP-####-2 appear to be aware of our presence at at the factory. As of this report's current date, none of the newly created instances of SCP-####-2 have appeared outside. Thermal imaging into the facility has revealed that these instances are currently dormant in the basement of the facility. Actions to infiltrate SCP-#### and reprimand all SCP-####-2 instances are currently under discussion.
Plans to infiltrate SCP-#### have been denied due to the inherent threat posed by SCP-####-1. Observation into SCP-#### through thermal imaging is ongoing. New SCP-####-2 instances continue to accumulate inside the basement of SCP-####. A total of 8 instances have been determined to exist in the basement so far. Instances do not appear to be engaging in any activities outside of resting. Any change in activity will be noted.
The number of dormant SCP-####-2 instances in the facility's basement have accumulated to over 100 individuals. No changes in behavior have been observed. Orders to observe accumulating SCP-####-2 instances are still in effect.
An estimated 400 instances of SCP-####-2 gathered at the main entrance of SCP-#### and had charged all security personnel assigned to guarding the security gate entrance. Stationed security personnel had open fired on all charging SCP-####-2 instances. An estimated 70 instances were pacified before the mass reached the main gates. All remaining instances have escaped the facility. There are currently an estimated 330 instances that are unaccounted for. Operations regarding the re-containment of all escaped SCP-####-2 instances is ongoing.
The station wagon vibrated as it struggled to navigate the white pathways that are Siberian roads. It's passengers, a family of four, seemed to be much more content in the warm interior of the rust-bucket.
Adam called out through his furry face to the back of the wagon from the driver's seat, "How was the movie, children?"
"It was awesome!", "Funny!" cried Vadik and Agnessa.
"We're glad you enjoyed it." replied Miroslava. "Tell you what. When we get back, I'll make you both a nice hot cup of cocoa. How's that sound?"
"Yay!" "Yippee!"
Adam chuckled. It was good to spend time with his family again. He had almost forgotten what that felt like. The fur trade made a cozy profit for him and his family. But the job did not come without a price itself. Adam had spent many days away from home, hunting and selling his furs himself, effectively cutting out the middle man. And when he did finally come home, he spent most of his few hours slee—
This is strange. "Miro. Do you see that?" He pointed off the road at a large gray mass on the side of the road.
Miroslava turned her attention to the mass. "Are those… rats?" The rats scurried in one giant mass into the rat hole on the side of the road.
"One helluva place for a rat burrow." stated Adam.
Miro replied. "That's probably just their back door. Probably have a tunnel leading back into the forest. It's still a weird place for a rat nest though."
"They're dumb rats. Probably don't know any better."
The station wagon continued down the road, winding through the tree riddled paths and fighting the winds of the blizzard all the while. They were almost to the house, riding past that familiar cliff with that flimsy wooden guardrail that separated them from death.
It was by this time that Vadik became bored, and decided to take out the frustrations of his boredom on papa's seat.
*Kick.* *Kick.* *Kick.*
"Vadik. Please stop."
*Kick.* *Kick.* *Kick.*
"Vadik. I said stop. Don't make me say it again."
"You're not going to get any hot cocoa if you keep that up." replied Miroslava.
*Kick.* KICK.
Adam swiftly turned himself sideways to face the back. "DAMMIT VADIK. STOP RIGHT NOW OR I WILL PULL OVER."
Miroslava was still paying attention to the road and shrieked. "ADAM!!!"
Adam whipped his head back to the front of the car in time to see a large creature that looked like it could have been a mutant scorpion lobster… with wings.
SMASH
The station wagon slammed into the beast, smashing the windshield and definitely destroying the entire front end. The car slid on the ice, fortunately away from the cliff and into the rocky wall of the mountain side. The air bags deployed into the faces of the husband and wife while the children had only the luxury of their seat belts to keep them in their seats.
The kids screamed in fear. Mother tried to calm them down while trying to suppress the state of panic that had overcome her. Father was in a state of his own panic, trying to get the vehicle to start once more as the spawn of Satan drew closer, clearly unaffected by the hunk of metal and fiberglass that had impacted it earlier.
Miroslava tried to give comfort to the back in her own frantic voice. "It's okay!!! Please calm down!!! Shhh!! Please!!! ADAM START THE CAR!!!"
"It… IT WON'T! IT WON'T START!!! Oh god…"
Should've never bought this piece of German engineered shit, thought Adam.
The beast slammed it's two front claws into the sides of the car. In a demonstration of it's mutant strength, it slowly picked the car up from the ice and smiled. It had teeth as well. Big, sharp teeth. Wonderful. The entire family clutched onto their seats as the beast wound up his scorpion stinger, preparing to penetrate the windshield.
A flash of light rounded the corner and slammed the beast again. This unlucky bastard slid the wrong way and flew off of the cliff and into life's end taking the wooden guard rail with it. The beast gave out a roar of utter discomfort and launched the station wagon in it's rage.
The family too passed the border into life's end, screaming all the while.
Adam opened his eyes.
Airbag.
Dashboard.
Bleeding hands.
Smoke.
In a shock, Adam slowly turned his head to observe his situation. His once shitty station wagon was now totaled. The engine block billowed with smoke. It took him a little to gather where he was. It took him a bit longer to realize that his family was gone.
Adam opened his door and slowly crawled out. A puddle of blood began to drip from his mouth. He began to stand up, cautiously taking into account his surroundings. There was nothing but trees on all sides, and the steep wall of the cliff. Adam began to yell.
"MIRO."
Silence.
"VADIK. AGNESSA."
Silence.
"SOMEONE! ANYONE! PLEASE!!!"
Nothing but silence. Adam held his head as he twirled in circles in a feeble attempt to observe every direction for movement. He suddenly stopped. He spotted a strange grouping of tracks near the station wagon. The tracks resembled that of his family's boots. One set of adult sized tracks and two smaller sets of the same prints. There was blotches of blood here and there, but other than this Adam was thankful that there was no evidence of them being harmed. But why did the leave him. Adam looked back at his hands and coat, both of which glistened with his own blood. By the state of him, they probably thought he was dead.
Adam followed the tracks. He needed to find his family. The prints made an almost straight line in the snow, with that occasional swerve around a tree and trickle of blood. Adam kept his gaze focused on the tracks as he followed them, his mind not daring to stray away from what was in front of him. He didn't want to think of what he might find, other than his family. Some of the fiercest bears on the planet lived in Siberia, and were actually kind of abundant in this area. Mountain lions could also be a factor. No, no they couldn't. As he far as he knew they were near any mountains in this area of the forest, apart from the one they were traversing the side of…
Adam snapped back into reality as he reached the end of the tracks. He was at the front door of a stone cottage. The cottage appeared battered with it's walls scarred from years of erosion and weathering. It's wooden door shared these characteristics with a bit more enthusiasm, with it's metal hinges seeming to be the only thing holding it together.
With an outstretched arm Adam slowly pushed the door of the cottage open. The inside was significantly warmer than the unforgiving temperatures of Siberia. At the other side of the room was a almost-dead fireplace with a stone shelf housing different kinds of furs. A rocking chair sits here, facing the barely lit fire. Someone had been here.
Adam approached the fireplace slowly, the slothfulness influenced by fatigue and a sense of uncertainty bordering fear. Here he found nothing in particular but a large sixteen legged spider crawling out from under one of the furs.
"JESUS." Adam jumped back a good ten feet at the sight of the monstrosity. He was stuck between killing it or marveling at it's weirdness. The spider (if you can even call it that) did nothing but stare back at the one who screamed.
But even with a suitable boot for squashing on his foot, he decided to leave it be. The arthropod scuttled off of the ledge and into the right hand corner of the cabin, where it had crafted an abnormally large web that resembled more of a spiral galaxy than of a traditional web.
Fatigued from the long and cold trek through the dismal forest of Siberia, Adam took a seat in the rocking chair. As the adrenaline finally came down it was just now when he realized the pain jolting from his leg. Adam rolled up his pant leg to reveal a large gash that had been dried up with blood a long time ago. Adam had no medical experience, that what his wife was for. No cloth bandages, no spare clothing, he could use the furs that hung from the fireplace but after that… thing crawled out from one of them this option was totally out of the question. He would just have to leave it uncovered.
Going out to search for his family any further was out of the question considering his state. Instead, hoping that they would eventually come back, Adam found a couple of dry logs near the corner of the shack to feed the fire. Hopefully the smoke will flag down his lost family.
With the fire now blazing, Adam one again sat down in the sorta-comfy, really creaky rocking chair and stared at the arthropod in the corner. "Hello friend. Looks like it's just me and you until the wife and children come back."
The arthropod just stared back at the man, knowing that it was being talked to. It does nothing but just stare back from it's personal galaxy.
"I hope to the almighty god above that they are alright. I don't know what I'd do with myself if anything happened to them…" Adam drifted into silence as his worries turned to nothing as he slowly drifted off in the chair.
And as he slept, even his dreams seemed to change.
Adam awoke with a pounding headache. As he stretched an arm to sit up from the chair the whole world seemed to tilt to one side, and then to other side. A high pitch whine continuously rang in his ear. If Adam hadn't known any better, he would've assumed he was drunk, but that certainly wasn't the case.
He struggled to keep himself stable as he looked around the cottage. Nothing had been moved, at least as far as he could see. The fireplace was surprisingly still lit. How long has it been? He stumbled over to the wooden door and slowly opened it. The night was still raging on. He must not have slept for too long.
A sudden grunt came from the back of the shed. It could have been a tree if it wasn't for it's volume. It sounded more like a bear. In his queasy state, Adam staggered with a hand to the wall to the back. He had been outside for mere seconds, and already his appendages began to freeze.
Adam stretched his arm to reach the corner of the hut and peer beyond to the find the source of the sound. It was the scorpion. The giant winged scorpion that the station wagon had met earlier. It's excessively large teeth stood out as it feasted on it's unidentifiable meal.
Adam's eyes spread wide as he slowly backed around the corner, his mind racing. No gun, no knife, nothing was in his disposal to even attempt to bop it on the head. All he could do was hide. With his sight and balance impairment, he backed up near the front of the house. And tripped over a fallen branch.
WHOOSH!!! BAM!!!
The beast must have had an acute sense of hearing as it was on the sound faster than a fat kid to an ice cream truck. The beast had spread it's wings and boosted itself over the cabin and pounced on Adam. It's growl sounded something like a tin can being pushed through a trash compactor.
Adam gave out a manly Russian yell that mainly came from fear and a small hope that he could scare it away. The winged scorpion showed it's pretty teeth as it sniffed it's prey before making Adam it's meal.
As it's mouth opened wide, another roar, this one sounding more deadly than previous, let out a deafening sound before it rammed the scorpion off of Adam. All of this was a blur to Adam, partly from his vision and hearing impairments, but also from fear and confusion.
The two beasts wrestled in deeper in the woods as Adam crawled over to the cottage for leverage. He looked back into the woods to try and catch a glimpse of his savior. The new creature was the color of flesh. It's back was ginormous, and appeared to have an external spine as opposed to the internal spine that Adam had. As it twirled around it was now that it was discovered that this creature was humanoid, it's arms ending not in hands but one as a fleshy claw, and the other in a point. It's legs were large and muscular as well, but were more in the shape of a frog's leg than a human's.
Adam hobbled back to the front door. It was left open. Looking inside, a frightened looking raccoon dog had found it's way in. Then right before Adam's eyes, the thing began to mutate. The poor thing vibrated as two prongs broke the skin off it's head. It's paws fell off, ending it's legs at squirming tentacles. The former raccoon dog gave off a horrible screech as it's eyes reverted back to primitive light sensors, and that's when it hit Adam. These things were not creatures of nature, the cottage mutated these poor souls. No, no they can't be it. Adam himself slept in the cottage and he was perfectly fine. And then his head pounded harder.
Standing in the doorway, Adam started coughing up blood. The veins in his arms pulsed as a new purple color flowed through them. A small hole in each palm had formed in Adam's hands. The pupils of Adam's eyes grew larger, helping him see more in the dark night, and had even noticed that he was able to see a new color.
The flesh colored monster emerged from the woods, dragging the winged scorpion with it. Adam looked up from his hands as the mutant approached. It was Agnessa. His daughter. It wasn't immediately visible, but one look at her eyes and Adam knew it was her. He tried to speak to her.
"Ag… Agnessa?"
The beast just stared back. For a minute Adam wondered if she could still understand English, but without a doubt he knew that she still knew him. If Adam still had his lacrimal glands, he would have cried. With his pupils twice the size than they were before, he held his head in hands and wept.
"Why did this happen to us Aggy? Us of all people. We did nothing to deserve this."
The beast tried to console him, trying to put her arm around Adam. The two stood alone in the dark woods in front of the old battered cottage.
And then a pair of headlights shined on them from the forest. The large truck pulled up 40 feet away from the two mutants in the night. Behind this truck came three more of the same kind. From the backs of the trucks poured out a total of 24 rifle-bearing soldiers. More lights shone on them from the bright lamps they pulled out from the back. The commander and squad leaders all yelled at the two to submit to them. Agnessa became confused and frustrated with the screaming men with guns and began to roar. She charged the soldiers and the trucks as a fearful ball of rage. Adam yelled at her to come back as the soldiers open fired on her, and in an effort to protect, began to fire an unknown blazing purple liquid from the newly formed holes in his palms. The trucks began to fly through the air as Agnessa flailed her claw arm and stabbed with her sharp arm. The gas tank broke on one of the trucks and leaked the flammable liquid all over the surrounding area, Agnessa, and who ever else was still alive. One of Adam's biological flame shots hit the patch of gasoline and lit everything and everyone on fire. The fire spread to the other trucks, quickly consuming the entirety of the rigs. And within seconds, everyone was caught in the radius of the blast was incinerated. His daughter taking a little more time to die than the rest of them.
And as soon as everything was silent, the rats came to take the remains.
The sun began to rise above the horizon.
The tallest tree in the forests of Siberia was not uncommon to such a beautiful sight, but this morning, the tree had a friend. Adam sat at the top of this tree. The mutations he had gained from that damned cabin aided him in the trek up the trunk.
Adam stared into the sun, feeling absolutely nothing. Perhaps this was a side effect from the cabin. Or maybe he still had a grip on who he was, and refused to believe that any of this was real. Either way, he was alone now. Another beast in the seemingly endless forest.
At this time, the large black trucks came back for him. Adam climbed down the tree and submitted peacefully. The soldiers brought him to a large building, threw him in a small, bleak room and gave him a designation. They fed him raw meat and vegetables every day. The men in orange jumpsuits cleaned his cell every two weeks. Doctors tested him every three days. Every day became one large existence.
SCP-783-2. This was his new life.