SCP-682 — Hard-To-Reach Place - SCP Foundation

Primary Document

Discovery Log

Exploration Logs, Truncated (2022-2024)

Item #: SCP-682

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: Standard anomalous location security measures have been enacted around the place of breach; SCP-682 has been sequestered from the rest of the basement sub-levels through the construction of a guarded decontamination chamber. The chamber is 200 square meters in total and is outfitted with an observation room, as well as 4 drainage pipes.

HAZMAT suits are stored within this room, as are the controls for the chamber itself. Each HAZMAT suit is equipped with a standard two-way radio, which much be checked before every exploratory mission conducted. The drainage pipes are to be cleaned and sterilized directly before and after every exploratory mission. The entryway to SCP-682 itself — appearing as a white, wooden door — is locked from the outside. The key is held in the office of the acting Site HCML Supervisor or their replacement, which will be given to the containment team should an exploratory mission be enacted.

Exploratory missions are to be carried out by Foundation researchers by request of Site-433's administration, citing higher levels of competence in anomalies of this type than expressed in D-Class personnel. The assigned researcher — at time of writing, Dr. Rowan Raster — is to be provided with a light source1 and renewable batteries to last 45 days, self-heating MRE2 rations to last 30 days, waterproof clothing and a plastic satchel.

Due to the atmosphere of SCP-682, exploratory missions are not to last more than 2 hours. Though it is unlikely for an individual to become lost inside SCP-682, the environment presents a (largely) non-anomalous risk to long-term human habitation.

Description: SCP-682 is a region of space that was placed amongst Site-433's basement sub-levels, replacing a Video Home System (VHS) cache in 2021. The space is extradimensional in nature, partially sitting beneath known physical reality; despite this, it is not infinite, being roughly equal in size to the continental United States of America in its entirety.3

The space possesses a low concrete ceiling supported by white-painted concrete pillars, leaving a walk space of roughly 2 meters. The ground is composed of packed sandy soil, though little mineral material has been found in samples. The area is flooded with 60 centimeters of stagnant, untreated freshwater. The water level itself has also been noted to fluctuate inconsistently. SCP-682's temperature sits perpetually at 40 degree Celsius, and does not possesses internal lighting.

Occasionally, corpses of various vermiformi can be found floating in the water.4 SCP-682 is believed to be devoid of life (see Exploration Logs).

Contact Director Jonathon Mildew for further updates on this document.

INCIDENT-4370-6230-URANUS (ABRIDGED)

...

MATERIAL BEGINS

[…] the little mermaid went out from her garden, and took the road to the foaming whirlpools, behind which the sorceress lived. She had never been that way before: neither flowers nor grass grew there; nothing but bare dirt ground stretched out to the whirlpool, where the water, like foaming mill-wheels, whirled round everything that it seized, and cast it into the fathomless deep. Through the midst of these crushing whirlpools the little mermaid was obliged to pass, to reach the dominions of the sea witch; and also for a long distance the only road lay right across a quantity of warm, bubbling mire, called by the witch her turf-moor. Beyond this stood her house, in the centre of a strange forest, in which all the trees and flowers were polypi, half animals and half plants; they looked like serpents with a hundred heads growing out of the ground. The branches were long slimy arms, with fingers like flexible worms, moving limb after limb from the root to the top. All that could be reached in the sea they seized upon, and held fast, so that it never escaped from their clutches. The little mermaid was so alarmed at what she saw, that she stood still, and her heart beat with fear, and she was very nearly turning back; but she thought of the prince, and of the human soul for which she longed, and her courage returned. She fastened her long flowing hair round her head, so that the polypi might not seize hold of it. She laid her hands together across her bosom, and then she darted forward as a fish shoots through the water, between the supple arms and fingers of the ugly polypi, which were stretched out on each side of her. She saw that each held in its grasp something it had seized with its numerous little arms, as if they were iron bands. The white skeletons of human beings who had perished at sea, and had sunk down into the deep waters, skeletons of land animals, oars, rudders, and chests of ships were lying tightly grasped by their clinging arms; even a little mermaid, whom they had caught and strangled; and this seemed the most shocking of all to the little princess.

She now came to a space of marshy ground in the wood, where large, fat water-snakes were rolling in the mire, and showing their ugly, drab-colored bodies. In the midst of this spot stood a house, built with the bones of shipwrecked human beings. There sat the sea witch, allowing a toad to eat from her mouth, just as people sometimes feed a canary with a piece of sugar. She called the ugly water-snakes her little chickens, and allowed them to crawl all over her bosom.

“I know what you want,” said the sea witch; “it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish’s tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have an immortal soul.” And then the witch laughed so loud and disgustingly, that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground, and lay there wriggling about. “You are but just in time,” said the witch; “for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will prepare a potion for you, with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you.”

“Yes, I will,” said the little princess in a trembling voice, as she thought of the prince and the immortal soul.

“But think again,” said the witch; “for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father’s palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves.”

“I will do it,” said the little mermaid, and she became pale as death.

“But I must be paid also,” said the witch, “and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price of my potion. My own blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword.”

“But if you take away my voice,” said the little mermaid, “what is left for me?”

“Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man’s heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful potion.”

“It shall be,” said the little mermaid.

Then the witch placed her cauldron on the fire, to prepare the magic potion.

“Cleanliness is a good thing,” said she, scouring the vessel with snakes, which she had tied together in a large knot; then she pricked herself in the breast, and let the black blood drop into it. The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible shapes that no one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw something else into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound was like the weeping of an alligator. At last the magic potion was ready. “There it is for you,” said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid’s tongue, so that she became dumb, and would never again speak or sing. “If the polypi should seize hold of you as you return through the wood,” said the witch, “throw over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers will be torn into a thousand pieces.” But the little mermaid had no occasion to do this, for the polypi sprang back in terror when they caught sight of the glittering potion, which shone in her hand like a twinkling star.

So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh, and between the rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father’s palace the torches in the ballroom were extinguished, and all within asleep; but she did not venture to go in to them, for now she was dumb and going to leave them forever, she felt as if her heart would break.

She stole into the garden, took a flower from the flower-beds of each of her sisters, kissed her hand a thousand times towards the palace, and then rose up through the dark blue sea […]

MATERIAL ENDS

To see an index on events surrounding INCIDENT-4370-6230-URANUS, insert credentials here: [INVALID SECURITY CLEARANCE].

Logs dating from 2021 have been excised for brevity, with the exception of the D-1711 test, which took place on May 2nd, 2021. Only missions which yielded usable results have been included here.

Summary: As a preliminary mission to test the atmospheric conditions of SCP-682, D-1711 was sent inside with the mission of walking in a straight line for 15 minutes. He was given a two-way radio, a wetsuit, waterproof boots, and was equipped with a climbing harness — it was connected to a pulley which was maintained by the HCML Supervisor and involved researchers.

After 10 minutes, the pulley went slack and rapidly pulled away from the team. The radio link, though still operational, could only pick up the sound of wind before going silent. Despite attempts at pulling D-1711 back up, the rope had become stuck. After 10 more minutes, the rope snapped and was lost.

4 hours later, D-1711 emerged from a toilet in the second-floor women's restroom.

BEGIN LOG

Dir. Mildew: We lost you for a minute there.

D-1711: Yeah, haha. Happy to be back.

Dir. Mildew: Could you tell us what happened? When you disappeared?

D-1711: Yeah, totally. So, I walked in a straight line just like you guys asked for a little bit. I wasn't really seeing anything of note, but after a while, I walked up to this ventilation shaft in the middle of the space. The bars were rusted and they looked kind of malleable, and I bent down to look at it — and I like, slipped, on the soil shit. Face first. I smashed right into it.

[D-1711 makes a sound effect with his mouth, and slaps his palms together.]

Dir. Mildew: Yes, we heard that on the recording.

D-1711: Yeah. So I was on top of the shaft, all my weight was on it, and I could feel the thing start creaking, 'cause it couldn't take my weight.

Dir. Mildew: Then what did you do?

D-1711: I mean, I didn't do anything. I figured it would either snap or it wouldn't. My hair was all wet and I was sweating and it was just miserable. At that point I really just didn't care.

Dir. Mildew: Then it snapped.

D-1711: Yep. And I fell…

[D-1711 whistles.]

D-1711: Right on in.

Dir. Mildew: Could you tell me what happened right after you disappeared?

D-1711: I think I was just falling for a long time. Sometimes I'd be in a pipe, or sometimes I've be in an airshaft, or sometimes I'd be in the open air, but I was just falling.

Dir. Mildew: So your immediate vicinity was changing around you.

D-1711: Pretty much, yeah.

Dir. Mildew: Did anything in particular stick out to you?

D-1711: Yeah, a few things. I saw a sewer. I saw the inside of a septic tank, but it was cleaned out. There was a pond, and the surface of it was covered in fishhooks, and I saw a man and a boy in camo pants and ball caps sitting on a dock.

Dir. Mildew: Did they see you?

D-1711: I think I went by too fast. It was kind of like a photograph, for me.

Dir. Mildew: I see.

D-1711: But anyway, sometimes I would see SCP-682 itself. Or something similar, but without the pillars, and a kind of light coming up from the ground. I saw… a lake, or an ocean. In the distance there was a pirate ship, I think. It had these gold crests and a black skull-and-bones flag. The last thing I saw was a koi pond. All of these places had 682's dirt floor, though, I should mention, and usually there'd be a hole of some kind.

Dir. Mildew: For you to fall through.

D-1711: Exactly, yeah. There was shiny stuff stuck in the dirt in the hole, if it was made of dirt, but I couldn't really make it out.

Dir. Mildew: Understandable. Do you know how long you were falling for?

D-1711: About a minute, minute and a half.

Dir. Mildew: 4 hours, actually.

D-1711: Woah. That's why I felt like I was struggling to breathe. That's nuts. You know, when I popped out of the toilet, I felt like I was being born.

[Silence on recording.]

Dir. Mildew: Thanks for all your help today. Get some rest, you need it.

END LOG

After-Action Report: Director Mildew declared that further missions would be staffed only by individuals specifically trained in the exploration of artistic, metaphysical anomalies; on the assumption that SCP-682 is at least partially conceptual, he stated that the only individuals allowed inside are those who can, in his words, "meet it on its level." Though this hypothesis has yet to be confirmed, instabilities like these have noticeably decreased since.

Summary: After entering SCP-682, Researcher Raster was directed to turn left and walk in a straight line along the wall. After 5 minutes, the wall disappeared into the expanse of SCP-682; Raster returned to the decontamination chamber afterwards. After deliberation, Raster was asked to enter SCP-682 again. Raster repeated the previous experiment but continued walking. After 6 minutes, Raster reported something "moving in the water" away from the path, which he moved to investigate. Upon shining his light in the water, he discovered a pile of 25 deceased Pseudoceros dimidiatus (divided flatworm) specimens, partially buried in the soil and knotted together in a ball shape.

Raster attempted to dislodge the mass with his foot, but was unable to do so. He was able to procure 5 flatworm samples from the mass, which he collected in his satchel. Upon his return to the decontamination chamber, the flatworms were taken to be studied. Genetic testing indicated that the instances were all identical, but also that they were only 6 minutes old, despite appearing to be matured. One of the instances was able to be resuscitated, but no further information could be gained.

BEGIN LOG

[Recording is audio only, taken from the entryway between the decontamination chamber and SCP-682 itself. There is the sound of splashing, followed by a rope creaking, then a loud crash. After a moment, calliope music and voices become audible. Waves pick up and crash.]

Unknown Voice: Ahoy, mateys! [Indistinct.] Here be the greatest, biggest sewer in all the realm. Ye think 'er trials with Scylla and Charybdis were difficult, just wait'n'see what lies beneath the dingy water below…

[Children are heard speaking, but it is unintelligible. Suddenly, they go silent, only the waves audible — then, the children and the Unknown Voice suddenly burst out laughing.]

Unknown Voice: Very good, ol' laddy! Very good! Ye got an advent'rer's heart, I tell ye, yer perfectly prepared. Y'sir, y'sir, there be alligators in the sewer. Y'see, alligators love to live in sewers. They live in 'most evr'y sewer on Earth! But 'ere, the biggest sewer in the realm, the alligators get so big!

[Children scream and laugh.]

Unknown Voice: Bigg'r than ye ever seen! Bigg'r… than yer 'ead!

[More laughter. There is a mechanical whirring sound, followed by the creaking of metal.]

Unknown Voice: Aye, lads n' lasses n' crew, ye best be keeping your hands n' feet inside tha' ship at all times… lest ye lose them! Yargh!

[The calliope music increases in volume, and there is more crashing of waves. The voices of children, as well as what sounds like adults, becoming audible all at once. Occasionally, the Unknown Voice can be heard exclaiming or laughing. There is a sound of rope creaking, then the sound begins to drift away. After only 2 minutes, all that can be heard are echoes. Gradually, the waves begin to subside, and SCP-682 returns to its usual silence.]

END LOG

Summary: After walking in a straight line for 10 minutes, Researcher Raster discovered a ventilation shaft on the ground. It appeared to have been broken in; the beams of the cover had been pushed apart. Raster noted that it was large enough for a human to fall into. He proceeded to take one of his MRE rations, and dropped it in the water, allowing it to be sucked into the vent. Upon this, he returned to the decontamination chamber.

4 hours later, the MRE was discovered within the septic tank connected to the second floor's plumbing system, having clogged a pipe.

BEGIN LOG

[Raster trudges between pillars, pulling various worms out of the soil. He turns to his left; an Asian jumping worm is floating in the water. He places his worms into his plastic satchel, then walks to the worm floating. He watches it for a moment — aside from being carried by the waves he produces, it does not move. He picks it up and places it in his satchel.]

[He turns around, facing the direction he came from. Somewhere out of sight, there is splashing.]

[Raster visibly tenses, placing his hand on a pillar. He pulls himself against it, and turns off his flashlight. There is another splash.]

[He crouches lower to the ground; slowly, he begins to move towards the sounds. Another splash is audible to his right, and he turns accordingly. As he comes closer to the origin of the sound, a dark shape is visible underneath a large pile of worms. Raster stands up fully, presses himself against a nearby pillar, and turns on his flashlight.]

[Underneath the worm pile is a Ictalurus punctatus (channel catfish) — now designated SCP-682-A — which splashes around as it comes up to eat more worms.]

Raster: Ha. Holy shit.

[SCP-682-A eats another mouthful of worms, then dives between the nearby pillars. It swims in a circle, then swims in Raster's direction. He does not move. It comes up to him, then dives to his left. Raster turns to watch it. After a few minutes, SCP-682-A disappears into the darkness, beyond Raster's flashlight.]

[There is a splash in the distance.]

END LOG

Summary: Two days after his return from SCP-682, Researcher Raster was sent back into SCP-682 in an endeavor to relocate SCP-682-A and implant a tracking device into it. He was sent into SCP-682 with all required gear, as well as a small, mesh bag of catfish bait to drag through the water. He proceeds to retrace his steps back to where SCP-682-A was spotted.

While exploring SCP-682, Raster suddenly stopped. When asked why he stopped, Raster stated that he "heard something splash". Believing this to be SCP-682-A, he was instructed to go further. Raster continued. After six minutes, he stopped again and asked control if "they had heard that". Despite control responding in the negative, Raster became agitated and attempted to flee. After running blindly for several minutes, he tripped, and assumed the fetal position against a nearby pillar. He was unresponsive at this time.

A small rescue team was sent into SCP-682 to retrieve Raster. After he was safely retrieved, he was asked what caused him to flee. Raster stated: "I don't know where it came from but it was after me, I heard it, I heard it splashing and it— I saw a dolphin."

Director Mildew ordered SCP-682 be searched for Alucinari-class entities. None were located within SCP-682, and neither were any non-anomalous dolphins.

The sighting that Raster reported was confirmed to be a PTSD induced audio-visual hallucination. Raster has been assigned mandatory therapy sessions and will not be allowed back into SCP-682 for the time being.

After-Incident Report: 2 weeks after the incident above, Raster requested to return to SCP-682. Despite concerns over his mental state, Dir. Mildew approved Raster's request, under the terms that he would be able to be in communication with Raster for the entirety of his exploration. Raster accepted, and was allowed to re-enter SCP-682.

BEGIN LOG

[Raster walks through SCP-682, heading southwest from the entrance point in Site-433. After about an hour of walking, he sees an unidentified object poking out of the ground. He approaches it, and kneels next to it. He slowly pulls it out of the water, revealing a long, polished splinter of wood.]

Raster: Raster to Mildew, you still here?

Mildew: Yes.

Raster: Well, are you seeing this?

Mildew: It's wood.

Raster: Yes! It's wood! I haven't seen any wood in any of 682's structure. So where the hell did it come from?

Mildew: If only someone down there could possibly search 682.

Raster: Oh ha ha. It's the most interesting thing I've found in a mile. I'm gonna see if I can find where it's from.

Mildew: Keep me updated.

Raster: Alright.

[Raster continues walking through SCP-682. He passes through several small rooms, which appear to get smaller as he continues forward. More pieces of wood can be found. Soon, Raster has to duck to enter the rooms without hitting his head. He soon comes to a room with such a low ceiling he would have to lay prone to enter. He stares at it for several long seconds.]

Mildew: You don't have to go in, Rowan. You can come back, and next time, we'll send you out with a short-range drone.

Raster: No, no. I can do this.

Mildew: Alright. Be careful. If you get stuck, it'll take a long time to get to you.

Raster: Okay. Okay, I can do this. Okay.

[Raster takes a deep breath, and lowers himself to the ground. He drags himself over the mud. Tiny worms dart in and out of his field of vision. He keeps his breaths slow and even. As he continues further, more stray pieces of wood can be found]

Mildew: Find anything, researcher?

Raster: Nothing yet.

Mildew: You have full permission to turn back, if you need.

Raster: …You don't need to— look. That was a fluke, okay? That won't happen again.

Mildew: I understand, but I don't want you to push yourself too hard. What you went through was terrible, Raster. There's no other way to put it. You need to be patient with yourself. It's okay if things are still bad.

Raster: …There's a light at the end of this.

Mildew: That's a very positive outlook to have. I'm happy—

Raster: No, no uh, a literal light, director. It's faint, but I can see it.

Mildew: Oh. Carry on.

[Silence on recording.]

Raster: Thank you, though. I've been trying to get myself back together.

Mildew: I'm glad.

[Raster continues to drag himself through the room. What begins as a faint, flickering light in the distance slowly brightens, exposing a small slot. Raster begins to kick and writhe through the muck. He squeezes through the slot, into a room with a rough, vaulted ceiling. The walls are a mix of rough stone and the repetitive pillars of SCP-682. In the center of the room is what appears to be the front half of what appears to be a 1600's merchant ship.]

Raster: Oh my god…

[The bowsprit and mast of the vessel pierces through the rock. There is what appears to be a makeshift chandelier hanging off of the mast, made of flash lights, glow sticks, decorative yard lights, and lightbulbs all wired to a car battery. They sway, as if in a breeze. Other fixtures hang off the side of the ship and bowsprit. Written on the side, in golden lettering, is the words "HMS Uranus." Raster stands perfectly still, transfixed.]

Raster: It's a pirate ship.

Mildew: It appears so. This could be the result of that incident earlier— just hearing the voice say "ahoy" would be enough to implant the idea of pirates in anyone's mind, something that 682 could reflect, and make into what we're seeing right now.

Raster: But this doesn't feel like that. I mean, when you think "pirate ship," would you think of a boat crashed in a cave, covered in junk?

Mildew: I suppose I wouldn't. You're suggesting this has been here for a while, then?

Raster: Maybe? I'm not sure, though. If it is, then why isn't the rest of 682 pirate themed? I'd say "oh, maybe the ship got sealed into 682," but that implies that the structure of 682 can change which I really don't want to think about because oh god that could close my entrance. Shit. Now I'm thinking about it.

[Raster quickly looks at the small opening he crawled through. It's still present. Dir. Mildew sighs.]

Mildew: There's no evidence of 682's structure changing that rapidly. This ship could be manifested from thought, or memory, but I agree with you when you say it's old. Lived in, even.

Raster: Lived in? By what, worms? Catfish? …Sewer alligators?

Mildew: I'm not sure.

[Raster approaches the ship hesitantly.]

Raster: What if the sewers predate the pirate ship? That doesn't feel too large of a logical leap to make.

Mildew: I suppose that makes sense. This place is a sewer, yes, but it's full of water.

Raster: Which could make someone think about boats, and, by extension, pirates. And once that thought is out there, the sewer grabs it, and builds upon it. It started with the pirate animatronic thing, and when that strengthened the idea of pirates, it made an entire ship.

Mildew: If simple thought can cause such change in SCP-682, then this could easily spiral out of control. Water leads to thoughts of boats, leads to thoughts of pirates, which leads to anything from buried treasure to—

Raster: Sea monsters?

[Director Mildew sighs.]

Mildew: I was really hoping you wouldn't say something like that.

Raster: I thought about it, so I think it's a bit too late already. You're right, though. This could get out of hand. Especially if too many people hear about this.

Mildew: Right now, there's not much we can do except address what's in front of us. Collect samples of the wood and paint, try to get some pictures, then come back. I'll look into the HMS Uranus. Maybe it was a real ship.

Raster: What if it wasn't, but 682 made it real?

Mildew: Photos, Raster.

Raster: Okay. Right.

[Raster proceeds to take 20 pictures of the HMS Uranus, documenting the outside, and a small portion of the inside of the ship. Inside the ship, there are a myriad of machine parts, and many tools in various states of disrepair. Upon spotting what appeared to be several animatronic endoskeletons, stripped for parts, Raster refused to go any further.]

Raster: No way in hell.

END LOG

Addenda 682 (History): After Researcher Raster discovered the HMS Uranus within SCP-682, the Department of History was contacted regarding its discovery. Upon informing the department, they were able to find that the HMS Uranus was attached to anomalous activity between the years 1675-1681, after it was seized by a pirate captain that went by the name "Captain Fox." Fox was rumored to be a thaumaturgist of great strength, with testimonies claiming she had the ability to control the waves and weather, which she used to attack other ships. The sudden disappearance of her ship and crew also caught the attention of the Foundation, which, until now, believed that the ship had been sunk, consumed, or otherwise lost.

While exploring the wreck of the HMS Uranus, a leather bound journal was found in what is assumed to be the captains quarters. Despite its age, the text within was still legible. The entries detail her encountering a "fair woman" on the coast of Florida, and falling in love with her. Captain Fox alludes to drawings she's made of this individual, but no drawings are found. However, there are several pages that have been torn out of the journal.

No human remains were found in the wreckage. It is unknown how the HMS Uranus came to rest in SCP-682.

It should be noted that upon viewing the photos captured by Researcher Raster, there appears to be a pale, humanoid hand in the doorway of the captain's quarters. Raster states he did not see this hand while taking photos of the HMS Uranus. Further exploration of the ship has been ordered.

BEGIN LOG

[After a successful expedition into SCP-682, Researcher Raster was allowed to reenter SCP-682. He was instructed to return to the HMS Uranus for further investigation. Upon arriving to the HMS Uranus, he was instructed to go inside of the HMS Uranus. Raster initially hesitated to go inside, reminding control of the endoskeletons within the ship. After some coaxing, however, Raster enters the HMS Uranus. He takes photographs of his surroundings, focusing on the animatronics and other machinery stripped for parts. He pauses, and checks the photographs he took. One of them has what appears to be a pale appendage— possibly a tail— barely in frame, exiting the boat. Raster blanches.]

Raster: Oh, that can't be good…

[Despite his expressed discomfort, Raster pushes forward, toward were the tail was. He exits the boat, and spots deep trails in the mud, as if something was dragging itself along. He follows the drag marks into the main structure of 682, leaving the vicinity of the Uranus. As he reaches a corner, he spots the appendage. Raster continues to approach. He holds his camera at the ready. He peaks into the next room. A large creature— henceforth referred to as SCP-682-B— stands before him. It dominates the room, six muscular arms holding itself aloft. It shambles forward at a slow pace. Its long tail flicks behind it. It's pale, and appears to be reptilian, but at this distance details are hard to make out.]

Raster: Holy shit.

[SCP-682-B stiffens, then begins to flee. It pulls itself forward by grabbing the large cement pillars surrounding it, its tail jerking back and forth in the muck. This action kicks up sediment, which reduces visibility to near zero. Raster follows it blindly, though it is difficult to run through the thick mud. SCP-682-B's tail flicks past his face.]

Raster: Wait! I don't want to hurt you!

[Raster continues following the clouds of sediment SCP-682-B is causing as it flees. After several minutes of running, SCP-682-B's tail knocks him to the ground. He gasps and groans in pain. He sits up. When he looks up, SCP-682-B is in front of him. It has four dark eyes, an elongated face, and a mouthful of sharp teeth. Its chest appears to have small, mammalian breasts. Raster freezes.]

Raster: What are you?

[Silence on recording. It appears to glare at Researcher Raster.]

SCP-682-B: …Disgusting.

[SCP-682-B flees.]

SCP-682-B.

END LOG

BEGIN LOG

[Raster enters SCP-682, and is allowed to choose a direction. He begins walking through SCP-682, heading southeast. He occasionally kneels, rooting through the soil. He turns a corner and walks down the hallway. Down the hall, he comes across an archway to his left. Inside, there is what appears to be a space manually dug out of the mud, with a high ceiling. The room is full of piles of garbage. The majority of the large room, however, is occupied with SCP-682-B. Its tail idly flicks as appears to fiddle with a small object. Raster slowly approaches, attempting to keep SCP-682-B from seeing him. He immediately steps on a soda can buried in the muck. The sound alerts SCP-682-B, who whirls around. Before Raster can turn, its tail darts out and wraps tightly around him. Raster struggles and kicks, but cannot free himself from SCP-682-B's grasp.]

SCP-682-B: What are you doing down here?

[SCP-682-B raises itself to its full height. Raster stills, staring up at it. Now that he is closer to it, the details are much clearer. SCP-682-B is a large, pale creature that resembles a reptile, with fine mammalian hair across its entirety. It has two sets of large, black eyes, as well as a large mouth of sharp teeth. It has four pairs of muscular arms with hands that end in dark talons, which it uses to hold itself between pillars. Its tail is so long it can wrap around Raster several times.]

[SCP-682-B squeezes its tail tighter. Raster yelps.]

SCP-682-B: Speak.

Raster: Uh— I'm a scientist. A researcher. Exploring your… abode?

SCP-682-B: My abode.

Raster: Yes.

SCP-682-B: Why?

Raster: I mean—

SCP-682-B: Are you here for me, human?

[Its tail tightens around Raster.]

Raster: No! No, we didn't even know you existed!

SCP-682-B: Who is we?

Raster: I work for an organization that investigates the anomalous. Like this place. I promise, we're not going to hurt you. You're not bothering anyone, you're basically containing yourself, so we have no reason to! But this place is extradimensional, it's not attached to baseline reality so that's why I was sent down here—

[SCP-682-B lets go of Raster. Raster stumbles back, breathing heavily.]

SCP-682-B: Stop yelling.

Raster: Sorry.

SCP-682-B: This group you belong to. They are explorers?

Raster: Researchers. I mean, I'm a researcher, at least. Researcher Raster.

SCP-682-B: Raster.

Raster: That's me! Do you have a name? Or something you'd like to be called?

SCP-682-B: No.

Raster: Then, would you be okay if I called you -B?

[[SCP-682-B slithers around him.]

SCP-682-B: Dasbee?

Raster: This place, we call SCP-682. To us, you're SCP-682-B.

[SCP-682-B tilts its head.]

SCP-682-B: Why B?

Raster: Well, there's already an SCP-682-A.

SCP-682-B: …Is there something else down here? Something like me?

Raster: Well, not quite.

SCP-682-B: Then, pray tell, what is this -A?

[Silence on recording.]

SCP-682-B: Raster?

Raster: SCP-682-A is… A catfish.

SCP-682-B: A catfish. I am second to a catfish?

Raster: The letters don't mean you're more or less important than the catfish, it's just that we, uh, found it first.

SCP-682-B: And who is this "we" you speak of? More researchers?

Raster: Doctors, too. We're studying SCP-682 because the space is extradimensional. It lays somewhat outside of our reality. That's not a bad thing, but it intrigued the people I work for enough for them to send me down here.

SCP-682-B: Why would they send you?

Raster: I'm an expert in art based and conceptual anomalies. It seems to me that 682 is strongly effected by what people think of it. For example, the appearance of the pirate ship, and other similar phenomena.

[SCP-682-B stares silently at Raster.]

Raster: …Can you tell me anything about this place? You don't have to, but I'd like to hear what you think.

SCP-682-B: Your researchers are right about thought shaping this place, and everything in it. Nobody is meant to be here. It is supposed to exist only in thought. As ideas, as a part of a story. These are the sewers where the alligators live. It was meant to be nothing more than that. Then your people found this place. Look at what you've done.

[SCP-682-B glares at Raster. Raster looks at it uncomfortably.]

Raster: So… what's with the… stuff?

[He gestures to the collection of garbage around him. SCP-682-B opens its mouth, bearing several rows of teeth.]

SCP-682-B: This is my hoard.

[It drags itself closer to the piles, which upon closer inspection, appear to be a meticulously arranged collection of miscellaneous objects gathered on a pile of mud. It loops its tail around Raster's shoulders and draws him closer until he is standing in front of the collections.]

SCP-682-B: This is where I keep my jewelry.

[SCP-682-B gestures to a pile of assorted jewelry in various conditions and qualities, from broken necklaces and shattered glass gems to what appear to be golden chains and real diamonds.]

SCP-682-B: I have necklaces. I do not wear them, but I keep them well-polished. I also keep my phones down here— They don't work anymore. I have also collected a gun.

[SCP-682-B reaches into the water.]

Raster: A what?

[SCP-682-B raises a firearm that appears to be a Smith & Wesson .9mm pistol. It begins disassembling the gun in quick, practiced motions. Once the gun is fully disassembled, SCP-682-B begins reassembling it]

SCP-682-B: I found this in pieces. Someone took it apart before throwing it away. I managed to put it back together. It's a far cry from a flintlock… Isn't that interesting?

Raster: Extremely— you put it together yourself? With no outside knowledge, I mean.

SCP-682-B: It was quite challenging, but yes. I don't know if it would shoot properly, but putting it together was satisfying enough.

[Raster nods. He tilts his head at SCP-682-B.]

Raster: Uh, sorry if this is an insensitive question, but how can you speak English?

SCP-682-B: With my mouth, researcher.

Raster: Not like that, I meant, uh, how do you know English? Did someone teach you, did you learn on your own, were you human once?

SCP-682-B: No.

Raster: Your knowledge of English is innate?

SCP-682-B: I suppose. I don't talk to humans. They're…

[SCP-682-B looks morosely down at its jewelry collection.]

Raster: They're…?

SCP-682-B: So different from me.

Raster: I don't think that's a bad thing.

SCP-682-B: Have you seen me?

Raster: I'm seeing you right now. And… [He hesitates.] Fox saw you too?

[SCP-682-B growls.]

SCP-682-B: How do you know that name, human?

Raster: I've been exploring this place for a while. I didn't mean to snoop— Before I saw you, I didn't think there was anything more than catfish and worms. Which… probably caused there to be nothing but catfish and worms. Huh. All that to say, when I saw her ship, we investigated, and we found Fox's log.

[SCP-682-B's face falls.]

SCP-682-B: Oh.

Raster: I take it you're the one who hung the lights there?

SCP-682-B: Yes. I was. I go there often.

Raster: Her journal had a lot of pages torn out. Was that your doing, too?

SCP-682-B: I couldn't bear to see myself how she saw me. So, I tore the pages out, and buried them in the mud.

[SCP-682-B is silent.]

Raster: Who was Captain Fox?

SCP-682-B: You won't find her.

Raster: I didn't think we would, but who was she?

[Silence on recording.]

Raster: -B? I didn't mean to overstep.

SCP-682-B: No. You didn't. I just have not heard that name in a long time.

Raster: She wrote about a woman… was that you?

SCP-682-B: Do I look like that to you, researcher?

Raster: Yes.

[Silence on recording.]

SCP-682-B: I didn't always look like this. Back in those days, when I was younger, I was… smaller. My face wasn't this shape, my claws weren't so sharp. I traveled alongside Fox's ship, and when other boats got too close, I'd aid her in any way I could. Mostly by ripping at their hulls. Slamming into them. She did most of the work. She could control the waters. When I was too tired to swim, she'd make the current drag me along. Sailors learned to fear her. They learned to fear me.

[SCP-682-B is silent for several moments. Raster approaches it.]

SCP-682-B: Slowly, the ones who knew me thought I was a monster, and, I became one. My teeth sharpened. My claws grew. Fox stuck with me, but her crew didn't approve. They caught me in a net and planned to kill me while Fox slept. But she found them. In her rage, Fox drove the ship into the rocks… I crawled into a cave, which led to a tunnel. Then, I found this place. I continued to change. Arms growing stronger. My face elongating. Becoming more and more of a monster. I never learned what became of Fox. For all I know, she's still out there, traveling the seas. And now that I am what I am, I don't know if I could face her.

[Silence on recording.]

Raster: If Fox was still here, she'd still love you. She loved you then, even when everyone thought you were a monster. She crashed her ship into the rocks to save you.

SCP-682-B: I have changed far too much from the being she knew. I'm disgusting.

Raster: That's not a bad thing. Changing just… makes you have to reflect, I guess. Figure out who you are.

SCP-682-B: And what do you know about change, human?

[SCP-682-B lashes its tail against the wall.]

SCP-682-B: My body has been stretched at the seams and stuffed full of rumors and myths and stories of sea monsters and alligators in the sewers— I am nowhere near what I was. What could you know about any of that!

[SCP-682-B snarls, breathing heavily. Raster sighs.]

Raster: I don't know about it to that extreme. But I know how it feels. Sort of. Do you know what being transgender is?

[SCP-682-B stares at him.]

SCP-682-B: I do. I live in a sewer, not under a rock. Continue.

Raster: I'm transgender. Growing up, I didn't know. I mean, a lot of people do know when they're that young, but I didn't. Gender wasn't something I ever thought about as a kid. Then, as I got older… To me, it felt like a disgusting transformation. My body didn't feel like it was my own. I wasn't in control, and suddenly I was being pushed into roles that felt all wrong. I remember looking down at myself and thinking that there was something wrong, but I didn't know what. When I finally learned what being trans was, it was a relief. But when I came out… my family took it so bad I ended up scurrying back into the closet. I tried to be a good daughter, a good woman, but it didn't feel right. I was miserable. It took a long time, and a lot of courage, but then I came out again. And this time, even when people were confused or weirded out, I kept pushing. Because I realized my happiness matters more than what the people around me think.

[SCP-682-B looks towards the ground.]

Raster: Why should you care that strangers think you're a monster? Sure, you've changed, and I'm so sorry this has happened to you, but even then, you deserve to be happy. You're intelligent, funny, and, if I'm being honest, beautiful. It doesn't matter that you're different from humans. You're still you. And, even though we just met, I think that's an amazing thing to be.

SCP-682-B: You make it sound so easy.

Raster: [He laughs.] It wasn't. Sometimes, it's still hard.

SCP-682-B: Then how do you keep going? How did you even begin?

Raster: I started by cutting my hair really short. Maybe you could start with something that makes you feel more like yourself, whatever that may be.

[SCP-682-B looks up to Raster. Slowly, it slinks over to where it keeps its necklaces. It apprehensively picks up a silver one, adorned with a large sapphire. It uses two of its arms to loop it around its neck, but it appears to be unable to open the clasp with its claws. Noticing its frustration, Raster approaches. He carefully takes the necklace from SCP-682-B, and clips it on. He brushes its hair over the necklace. SCP-682-B turns to face him, lips curled in an approximation of a grin.]

SCP-682-B: I probably look ridiculous.

Raster: Who cares about that? You're smiling, that's the important part.

[SCP-682-B bares its teeth in a wide smile. Raster returns its smile.]

SCP-682-B: So I just… keep doing this? Keep wearing necklaces? What do I do next?

Raster: That's up to you. Whatever would make you comfortable.

SCP-682-B: I don't know. How did you get where you are now? You seem so happy with yourself.

Raster: I hate to say it, but it's a constant effort. That doesn't mean it's not worth it. Little things add up. Back then cutting my hair short felt like a massive change, but now it's not really a big deal. It gets easier and easier, and soon enough you'll be looking back, amazed at how far you've come.

[SCP-682-B is quiet for several long moments.]

SCP-682-B: Why are you helping me? We've only just met.

Raster: That doesn't matter, you still deserve help. Maybe even… a friend?

SCP-682-B: A friend?

Raster: It must be lonely down here. I think you could use one.

SCP-682-B: For your research, surely.

Raster: My bosses will probably have questions, but that's not why I want to be friends with you.

SCP-682-B: …You really think I'm beautiful?

Raster: Of course.

SCP-682-B: I think you are quite charming yourself, Raster.

Raster: Thank you, uh, I— thanks.

[Silence on recording. SCP-682-B slithers closer to Raster.]

SCP-682-B: It is getting late. The water gets colder at night. You should return to your researchers before it becomes too unbearable.

Raster: Right, I've been down here a while…

SCP-682-B: Perhaps I could escort you back to where you came?

Raster: Do you know where that is?

SCP-682-B: I followed tracks back to the door a while ago. I know the general direction, but I wouldn't mind some guidance.

Raster: Thank you, -B. Let's get going.

[Raster and SCP-682-B proceed to walk through SCP-682, quickly returning to the exit to Site-433. SCP-682-B hangs back, watching Raster approach the door. Raster opens the door, and waves at SCP-682-B. SCP-682-B waves back at him with all six hands. Raster looks at SCP-682-B for several long seconds, then steps through the door, closing it behind him]

END LOG

INCIDENT-682-B-BOWL

INCIDENT-682-B-BOWL

Approximately two weeks after Researcher Raster's most recent encounter with SCP-682-B, Raster reported the manifestation of a topological anomaly inside his toilet — replacing the standard inner bowl was a hole which descended down past the dimensional barriers of the toilet itself. Water was visible in the low light.

He began to record the incident on his personal phone, to which SCP-682-B appeared or manifested inside the hole shortly after.

BEGIN LOG

[The camera is centered on a standard toilet. The sound of rushing water is audible. Raster (the point of view of the recording) approaches the toilet and looks over. Inside the bowl, there is a wide hole which descends 9 meters down; there is clear blue water at the bottom of the hole. Raster casts a shadow onto the water.]

Raster: There's something wrong with my toilet, I think. I've been flushing and flushing—

[He flushes the toilet.]

Raster: —But nothing's happened. I don't know what's going on.

[There is a loud, metallic scraping sound. Raster gasps.]

Raster: What the hell was that?!

Unknown: Just me.

[SCP-682-B's arm emerges from out of view within the toilet; it proceeds to drag itself into the light. It stares up at Raster, folding its arms around its shoulders. It is wearing the silver necklace Raster helped it put on during their first encounter]

Raster: …Dash B?

SCP-682-B: Yes.

Raster: You're in my toilet.

SCP-682-B: Yes.

He kneels by the toilet. The camera shakes.

Raster: Are you cramped in there?

SCP-682-B: No. Your toilet is very spacious. It is a fine space.

Raster: Thank you?

SCP-682-B: You are… welcome.

SCP-682-B sinks under the water. Bubbles rise to the surface.

Raster: Are you ok?

SCP-682-B: [Unintelligible.]

Raster: Can you come out of the water, Dash B? I'd like to hear what you have to say.

[SCP-682-B bursts out of the water with enough speed and power to splash Raster and much of the surrounding bathroom.5 Raster yelps.]

SCP-682-B: You should come back sometime. To my home.

[Raster pauses, then laughs.]

Raster: What, are you too good for my toilet?

[SCP-682-B smiles.]

SCP-682-B: Very much so.

Raster: I was planning on coming back, you know.

SCP-682-B: Really?

Raster: There's a lot more to research down there.

SCP-682-B: Such as worms? Catfish?

Raster: I was actually thinking I could get to know you better.

[Silence on recording.]

Raster: Sorry, I—

SCP-682-B: I would like that a lot. I enjoyed our last conversation, and I would… also like to get to know you better.

Raster: [He laughs.] I don't think I'm that interesting.

SCP-682-B: I would disagree. I think you are fascinating.

Raster: I do too. I mean, I think you're fascinating.

[SCP-682-B smiles.]

SCP-682-B: Thank you. Then it is agreed. You will visit.

Raster: Of course.

SCP-682-B: Good. I would hate to have to wriggle up your toilet again. I will see you, researcher Raster.

Raster: Rowan.

SCP-682-B: Huh?

Raster: My first name is Rowan.

SCP-682-B: I like that.

Raster: Thanks, I chose it myself.

SCP-682-B: It suits you well. Maybe I will choose a name for myself.

Raster: For now, can I keep calling you Dash B?

SCP-682-B: As long as you keep your promise to visit.

Raster: I will, I promise.

SCP-682-B: Good. Goodbye, Rowan.

[SCP-682-B slowly sinks back into the water. Once it is fully submerged, Raster reaches up and flushes the toilet. The toilet flushes normally; once the water clears, the interior of the toilet is restored to its previous dimensions. Raster dips his hand into the toilet. He takes his hand out.]

Raster: …Be seeing you, Dash B.

END LOG

After-Action Report: As of 6/1/2024, SCP-682-B has continued to aid Researcher Raster in his missions. Director Mildew has requested that Raster utilize their relationship to confirm or deny assumptions about SCP-682 shared by the research team; as such, further exploratory missions have been relegated to replication studies — due to this, an increase in funding towards these missions has been approved. The next mission will be led by Researcher Raster and SCP-682-B, but will constitute a full team with the goal of reaching the opposite end of SCP-682.

Researcher Raster himself has shared some personal updates concerning SCP-682-B; it is considering using the name "Aethiopea" in further interactions, and has adopted a "pet fish."

Footnotes

1. Such as a flashlight or battery-powered lantern.

2. Meal, Ready-to-Eat: Various high-nutrient foodstuffs dry-sealed within a plastic packet; when water is dumped into the packet, it reacts with magnesium and iron powders inside to cook the foodstuffs.

3. Approximately 8,080,400 square kilometers.

4. Species discovered include jumping worms, ribbon worms, tapeworms, leeches, nematodes and terrestrial flatworms.

5. After analysis, it was determined the water samples originated from SCP-682.