Item #: SCP-2100-J

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2100-J is to be stored within a secure lock-box within the Site-L11 Level 2 cognito-hazardous items repository. All requests for testing of SCP-2100-J require approval from at least three (3) Level 3 or higher personnel.

Description: SCP-2100-J is a brown Fedora-style hat produced by █████████. The physical composition of SCP-2100-J does not differ in any way from that of other hats of the same model. Object is susceptible to physical harm and care should be taken to prevent its destruction during testing. SCP-2100-J incites a weak compulsive response in humans, causing subjects viewing the item to desire to wear it. This response is not incited in other species and has been shown to be possible to overcome given a small amount of effort.

When worn by a human subject, SCP-2100-J will cause said subject to narrate surrounding events as they transpire. Subjects invariably prove unwilling or unable to cease this narration, in most cases being unaware of its occurrence. Narration is done in the form of internal monologue (albeit vocalized), usually pessimistic in tone and language used, comparable to that of 1920's Crime-Noir literature and early 1950's Film-Noir motion pictures. [See Test Log 2100-J-12] While wearing SCP-2100-J individuals have shown heightened violent responses in reaction to negative stimuli, often resulting in physical conflict with other humans and (in some cases) with animals. Upon removal, the narratory effects of SCP-2100-J dissipate, resulting in a partial lack of memory in subjects regarding events which occurred while SCP-2100-J was worn. It should be noted however, that the attractive properties of SCP-2100-J do not dissipate following removal of the item unless a large (upwards of 300m) distance is put between the item and subject.

+ Test Log 2100-J-12

- Hide Log

Test Log 2100-J-12: The following is a transcript of the vocalized narration spoken by D-929181 while under the effects of SCP-2100-J. All narration was given during a standard series of tests to ascertain the mental effects caused by SCP-2100-J on the subject.

<Begin Log>

[D-929181 receives initial instructions from Dr. █████]

D-929181: "The dame wore hazmat. I'd never been a clever guy, but the lady was throwing out more danger signals than a barbed sex-doll. She pulled a face like she'd smelt something bad on me, maybe she had. Not much time for showers in this godforsaken place. She was talking about tests or something. Tests? Hope she didn't expect me to do any math, the only thing I could add these days were entries to the obituary column. I coughed, but she had already stopped talking. Was like she could read my mind. Last time I'd thought about that kind of thing was when I was twelve, at one of those old circuses, big family fun kinda things. Fortuneteller told me I'd be a lawyer. I guess I did lay down the law."

[D-929181 is instructed to write a short paragraph regarding his current situation]

D-929181: "Bitch was mocking me now, acting like I'm some brain-dead chimp who couldn't string a few sentences together. Guess I'd been right with the danger signals, unlike that time in Atlanta. Bastard had stabbed me twice in the hand before I had taken him down. I'd used my shoe to do it, beat him till he was a smear of ketchup on the burned meat of the sidewalk. I had shoes on now, nice and sturdy. I prepped myself to get up and try to take her down, but her gun was already pointed at me. Goddamn fortunetellers. I played her game, wrote down a nice little summary of my current situation. Probably pleased her as much as a skinned dog, I knew her kind. They liked to see you twitch and suffer, especially when all the skin's gone. A nice distraction if you can manage to get enough free time and somewhere to keep the meat hidden. Goddamn sadist."

[D-929181 is instructed to walk the length of the room several times]

D-929181: "Had a good opportunity to stretch my legs, and I took it. The walls and floor of the room were whiter than a Ku Klux Klan member trapped in a paint factory. Except the guard, he wore black. Bastard had a broken nose, and broken eyes to boot. He glared at me, maybe he knew what I thought of him or maybe he was just the spiteful type. Certainly looked it. You met guys like that: the guys who like to dip animals in lemon water after cutting them up, but only after everyone's gone to sleep so nobody finds out about it. His glare was fiercer than the look coming from a pastor who's just been told that God is dead. Good, anger made him stupid. I went for him, this could be my chance."

[D-929181 begins moving towards Security Personnel ██████]

[Security Personnel ██████ shoots D-929181 twice in self-defense]

D-929181: "First bullet went into my ribs, second my leg. Lot of blood, from the wounds and from my mouth. I tried to close it, but I couldn't manage. Just opened and closed like a bored goldfish. I was saying something, I couldn't quite hear it. Talking about bullets in my ribs and in my legs. What the hell? Why was I telling everyone about that? I realized. The hat, that goddamn hat they'd made me wear. I tried to take it off, but moving anything hurt more than going into space with a hangover. Who the fuck talked like that, I wondered. Bleeding out and making metaphors? I braced myself to snatch that thing off, but before I could breathe, move or blink, I went ahead and died."

[Subject Expires]

<End Log>