A ROUNDERHOUSE Joint

Coming Soon - rounderhouse

BY DIRECT ORDER OF THE OFFICE OF THE ADMINISTRATOR

The following file is classified Clearance Level 001/1.

All Foundation personnel are permitted and encouraged to read this document.

Welcome, O5-13.

1/001 LEVEL 1/001

CLASSIFIED

Item #: SCP-001

Safe

Site-01.

Administrator Franz Williams, circa 1891.

SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: All personnel are permitted to put in a request to their local Human Resources officer if they would like to visit Site-01. Visits are generally limited to one per 4 years, in order to avoid large amounts of damage to the property. The Site itself is maintained by the Office of the Administrator, and any concerns with the physical building or grounds should be directed there.

DESCRIPTION: SCP-001 refers to a collection of 13 anomalous areas present within Site-01. These anomalous areas vary in size and effect, and are scattered throughout the ground of the site. A full list of SCP-001 instances is attached below.

Site-01 is a mansion in rural Virginia constructed between 1764 and 1766 by Duke Franz C. Williams, an Austrian noble who would later become the founder and current Administrator of the Foundation. Williams' emigration from Europe was incited by the Seven Years' War, later regarded as the First Occult War. Documents relate that he arrived in the New World in a private party of twelve, purchasing the land for the mansion ahead of time. The party that arrived would become the first Overseers of the Foundation that they formed, though the organization as it is today would not take shape until the late 19th century during the American Civil War.

It became customary for new Overseers to make their own additions to the mansion as they were inducted, modifying and changing rooms to suit their needs, often with anomalous effects. Due to the secrecy associated with the former O5 Council, access to the Site itself was severely restricted until very recently.

SCP-001-01

SCP-001-02

SCP-001-03

SCP-001-04

SCP-001-05

SCP-001-06

SCP-001-07

SCP-001-08

SCP-001-09

SCP-001-10

SCP-001-11

SCP-001-12

SCP-001-01

SCP-001-01.

Description: SCP-001-01 is the Bridge Archive, an underground storage area below Site-01 that holds approximately 2,000 historical artifacts from the early 18th century to the late 21st. While a few artifacts are anomalous in and of themselves, the vast majority are not. However, handling an object of historical value within SCP-001-01 subjects the handler to a sudden burst of visions, typically associated with the object's historical context. A plurality of SCP-001-01's artifacts originate from various European wars. Examples:

Item: A Spanish naval cannon, inlaid with beryllium-bronze insets.

Vision: A single galleon flying the Spanish flag approaches a larger English man-o-war and its escorts on a clear, crystal blue sea, possibly that of the Caribbean. The man-o-war turns to face the Spanish galleon, readying its cannons. The cannon, unusually placed at the bow of the ship, is loaded with something and fired - the single cannonball collides with the hull of the man-o-war. Several seconds later, a number of massive tentacles that dwarf both ships rise from the depths. A gigantic eye is visible below the water. The tentacles wrap and crush the man-o-war while the escorts rapidly retreat. No damage is caused to the Spanish galleon.

Item: A French cavalry sword, inscribed with the insignia of estate Noir.

Vision: A view of a battlefield in France. French troops huddle in a trench, a distant screaming overhead. The sky is golden. For a moment, the screaming stops, and a roar swells through the French line as they rush out of the trench. At the other end of no man's land, a swirling sphere of wings and music screams again. The scene cuts to after the battle - no man's land is littered with corpses, and O5-1 stands on the fallen body of the angel, pulling the cavalry sword from it and wiping the golden blood on his shirt.

Attached File:

6-5-1959

Adiyat has fallen. Samothrace is lost. The occupiers will no doubt slaughter the survivors when they enter the city. We had the means to stop it. I didn't.

Everything is worse now.

- D.B

Administrator's Note — 1:

Django was a good man. I met him just after World War I. He had been one of the experts on the paranormal so many of the governments had enlisted for the war effort. The pay was good, he was given free reign to experiment and test how he wanted. Then he realized all his work was just being used to kill more young men. He quit and worked as a free agent for some time, drifting through France, Denmark, Scotland, landing in Spain.

The paranormal communities back then were tiny compared to what they are now; we knew each other by reputation and we became fast friends. The idea of an organization free from the political squabbles of the time was immensely attractive to him, and I brought him on as an administrative consultant. Nine years later, he took the recently opened position of Overseer Alpha - eventually changed to O5-1.

He was obsessed with history since the day I met him. He had a collection of artifacts from various European wars in his family castle. Some were anomalous, most weren't. That collection became the basis for the one under Site-01 today. He was also dead-set in his belief that the Foundation should never be involved in the political machinations of nation-states, even as they transitioned from kings and czars to presidents and prime ministers. He was the reason we found ourselves painfully neutral during the Cold War. He was the reason we took no action during Samothrace. Men died, but he was firm - more men would die if we intervened.

We could never stay neutral forever. The Insurgency Crisis proved that. My oldest friend died as he lived; immersed in our history trying to decipher our future. I never filled his seat. I think that was the beginning of the end.

SCP-001-02

SCP-001-02.

Description: SCP-001-02 is a converted bedroom in the east wing of the mansion. Most furniture has been removed to make room for 30 monitors and televisions mounted to the walls. These displays constantly output a variety of global information (e.g. the daily NASDAQ average, the precipitation levels of the Middle East). Higher priority information is permanently held on the larger screens, while smaller screens switch out between data feeds, seemingly at random. The source of the feeds and power to the screens is unknown; none are connected to anything except each other.

Screen: Permanently displays the rate of traffic flow on all major American and European highways.

Message: "DRIVER RATE NEEDS MONITORING — FLUCTUATIONS UNCLEAR, MAYBE INDICATIVE. GET IN TOUCH WITH DC AL FINE, GOC OWE ME"

Screen: A shifting graph showing the prevalence of anomalous tool-use in Foundation sites.

Message: "RISKING DOMINANCE SCENARIO - ADDRESS COUNCIL ABOUT THIS. URGENT!!! NOT AGAIN"

Attached File:

From: o5-02@overwatch.scp.int

To: RAISA Staff (Group)

Subject: Dataflow

Date: 12-05-2044

I want every goddamn byte that came out of Kabul before the bombs started falling sent to my office by the end of this week. We're in crisis mode. It's our job to make sure shit like that never happens, and we fucked up. The best thing we can do now is use the data we do have to prevent something from ever happening again.

From: admin@scp.int

To: o5-02@overwatch.scp.int

Subject: (No subject)

Date: 12-08-2044

David -

You need to let up. We can't change the past, but we can change the future. But you can't do anything if all your staff are terrified of you and hanging on by a thread. This has been the worst week of their lives for most of them - don't ruin them. Don't get obsessed.

From: o5-02@overwatch.scp.int

To: admin@scp.int

Subject: Re: (No Subject)

Date: 12-08-2044

I'll take two hundred burned out staffers over one more corpse any day.

Administrator's Note — 2:

I picked up David after the Gulf Incident in 2026. He was just a lowly RAISA tech back then, but I saw something else in him. A fiery talent for putting pieces together. Getting disparate information anyone else would consider worthless and forming it into something useful. It's not a learned thing, you either have it or you don't. He had it in spades, and it was being wasted helping researchers reset their passwords.

I gave him a few trial runs - the information breaches the GOC had during the late 2020s? All him. Very impressive young man, if acerbic. When the old Two retired, he was my first pick for the job, and doubled up as the RAISA director, too. He hit the ground running. Information is the reason the Foundation has been dominant since WW1, and he was the best there was at it. He figured out the Insurgency's attack plans from annual ammunition sales in Libya crossed by Anderson's stock prices once. The puzzles stopped being puzzles. What happened next was inevitable.

He fell into the classic trap - he got paranoid. Everything was easier, but he wasn't used to that. The reasonable conclusion was that he was missing things. Every little accident or statistical improbability became his fault. He felt responsible for the hundreds that died during the Six-Minute War. Kabul was on his hands. It wasn't, of course, but it was how he felt.

Suddenly, every single bit of information was absolutely crucial. He needed to have it, to analyze it, to control it. It wasn't enough just to solve the puzzle, he had to be the only one who had the answer. Paranoia makes monsters of us all, and David was no different. He went early for a human, which is absurdly early for an O5. I found him slumped over in his room, watching the Powerball drawings.

SCP-001-03

SCP-001-03.

Description: SCP-001-03 is a warehouse on the outer grounds of Site-01. Remodeled into a workshop, it contains manufacturing implements and industrial machinery from a variety of time periods, as well as raw materials and hand tools. Any item crafted in SCP-001-03 using the tools and machinery available will carry some sort of minor anomalous effect with it. These can range in power and type, but largely result in 'magic items' that are anomalously improved at their given function (e.g body armor that protects the wearer from damage, a lockpick able to open any lock). A number of these items are strewn around the workshop with labels.

Item: A small solid-state drive containing a shackled .AIC program.

Effect: .AIC, named "Sophie", is able to hold and maintain casual conversation and small talk beyond what would be capable for its storage capacity.

Label: "practice.exe"

Item: A small crib mobile resembling the solar system, with the addition of a tenth planet between Uranus and Neptune.

Effect: Instantly calms the observer into a state of relaxation. Presumably designed to soothe infant crying.

Label: "aggie's baby"

Attached File:

O5-3: Oh, hello.

Administrator: Hey, Rhett.

O5-3: I wish you wouldn't use my name.

Administrator: That's what makes it fun.

[Both chuckle, then fall silent for a moment.]

O5-3: Did you… need something?

Administrator: Yeah. Well, you know how time flies by, we were going to have a little get-together for Seven, be nice to have you. Maybe bring a gift for the kid.

O5-3: Oh. I see.

[Moment of silence.]

O5-3: I'm sorry, I don't think so, I just, you know, have stuff here to finish up. You guys have fun.

[Moment of silence.]

Administrator: No worries, Rhett. Just don't work too hard.

Administrator's Note — 3:

Mann was good. I liked him. He was former Prometheus, ended up taking an employment offer from us when his lab went under. Put his brain to work designing more efficient things for us to use. Containment chambers, machines, sometimes even weapons. He built the Null Riggers that eventually replaced SRAs. He was also responsible for the design of the FS Bowe, even though he had about as much experience designing spaceships as anyone else in the Foundation. Mann was a true prodigy - the kind of intelligence you see once in a generation.

He was odd, though. Not in some overt way, just the kind of person that you have to really push to talk to. He never really interfaced with me or any of the others outside of business like everyone else did. Preferred to stay huddled in that little workshop all day and night, crafting up wonders. I'm not really sure whether he couldn't connect because he was always working, or whether he was always working because he couldn't connect. Or maybe they were entirely separate and I'm connecting dots that don't exist. We'll never really know for sure.

We never really found out what happened to him. He just didn't come back from the workshop one day. I started the biggest, quietest manhunt in the world. Never found so much as a hair. Hell, maybe he didn't want to be found. I couldn't fill his seat after that even if I wanted to — it would be admitting the obvious.

SCP-001-04

SCP-001-04.

Description: SCP-001-04 is a private Library located in the west wing of Site-01. It contains a variety of texts and books, all concerning various anomalous phenomena. While most of these books have been written, some will be written at some point in the future or have never been written at all, and thus do not technically exist.

SCP-001-04 was placed into Site-01 via a thaumaturgic ritual aimed at amputating a portion of the Wanderers' Library. The ritual succeeded, but resulted in the annihilation of the caster.

Attached file.

Attached Files:

Index — S to T, cont.

[…]

The Selk Chronicle — Abis Wam

Serfus Black — Wyrmkragg

The Serpent's Hand — //T.M// REMOVED

The Serpent: An Analysis — Jericho Benalsh REMOVED

The Serpentine Text: Modern Edition — L.S REMOVED!

The Sessenilium - Unknown Author

[…]

A set of small yellow post-its with hasty pencil drawings on one side. The art depicts scenes from SCP-6000, including the Main Hall, and "Page" and "Archivist" instances of SCP-6000-A. The corner of the topmost post-it is wet.

Administrator's Note — 4:

Poor Tilly. She was the rarest of the rare - a Hand member defecting to the Foundation. We see a lot of the other way around, but once in a blue moon does a Hand member come to us willingly. I don't know much about her, honestly. I'm not even entirely sure she was from this particular world - if she had access to the Library she could have been from anywhere. That's probably why it took so long for me to trust her - she took up the mantle of Four thirty years after that meeting, even after becoming the Director of 17.

Between then, she became one of our most valued assets. An encyclopedic knowledge of pretty much every type of magic possible without being a capital-G God. She knew how to neutralize wizards, casters, battlemages, anything. She also knew how to disrupt the Hand's operations. They were pretty much gone by 2049. At least, until the Ninth Occult War - they have a habit of springing up during crises. But I digress.

We had anomalous members of the Council before, but never a true, honest-to-god wizard. Never thought I'd see the day. But she was one of the most loyal people I've ever met. I have no idea what the Hand did to piss her off, but she never forgave them. Her joy in ruining them was only matched by her thirst for knowledge.

That was what did her in, in the end. From the moment she shook my hand, she became a Jailor, and was barred from the Library forever. She knew what she was signing up for but I don't think she fully understood how important that place was to her. She would give anything to have her access restored. She ended up giving everything.

SCP-001-05

SCP-001-05.

Description: SCP-001-05 is a large greenhouse and conservatory inside the gardens behind the east wing. A variety of colorful plants grow inside, completely unique; the species no longer exist anywhere else in the world. They have never been documented by modern science, and only exist after having been meticulously reconstructed by Foundation gene labs. While never documented by modern science, archaic herbariums from medieval Britain indicate that the species closely match descriptions of plants supposedly found on the Fae island of Hy-Brasil.

Description: A shrub with small white flowers, secretes a milky white substance.

Placard: Aglaophotis. Has abnormal healing properties — maybe send a cutting to Nine?

Description: An aquatic fern with purple 5-parted leaves.

Placard: Razkovniche. Ground into a paste effective against magical wards. Seeds from Mom's cache.

Attached File:

Hey whoever finds this I'm sorry about the mess I just I'm sick of all of it and I feel like I'm doing everything wrong I've been spending a lot of time with the plants lately Did you know there's species here that haven't existed for 7 centuries they were all lost when the island disappeared but I had the labs reconstruct them so I guess they'll live on That makes one of us hahaha Sorry bad joke but yeah I'm sorry about the mess Could you please make sure my dad doesn't find out about this I don't know what it would do to him I think it's about time.

bye

Administrator's Note — 5:

Chelsea was one I never expected to have as an Overseer. A half-blood fairy? It would be inconceivable. The Foundation's relationship with the Faefolk is one famously riddled with lies, violence, and tragedy on both sides. But the Fae population was decimated after the events in Hy-Brasil — we never saw the island again after '88, and by the turn of the century we assumed they were all either dead or somewhere we couldn't detect them.

But not all the Fae were on the island when it vanished — I'll spare you the details but Chelsea was the result of a union between an Agent and a Fae. She had the benefits of the Fae's magic, and the career prospects that come with having a parent employed by us. It was hard, but stuff was different back then. We had anomalous task forces, a half-anomalous researcher wasn't that absurd. She had adversity, of course, but she rose through the ranks quickly. The previous Five recommended her for the position before he went, and I agreed.

She always struggled with it though. Supporting, even leading an organization that was the blood enemy of her people. She was a phenomenal O5, which is what makes everything that much more tragic. It wasn't any sudden event. Just the decades of moral conflict culminating until she couldn't take it anymore. This greenhouse always meant a lot to her — it was the closest thing to her homeland that still existed anywhere on the planet. Maybe that's why she brought the gun here.

SCP-001-06

SCP-001-06.

Description: SCP-001-06 is a bedroom in the western wing. It has been renovated and redecorated in the style of traditional Middle Eastern homes. Tapestries, artifacts, and knickknacks line the walls and shelves. A hookah sits on the low table. Quilts and Afghan rugs cover the floor and bed. Touching any of these decorations results in the hookah producing a light smoke. When inhaled, the subject will experience a strong vision.

Item: A small flag of the Piercing Sun movement; a sunrise with an eye on it, rendered in minimalist black and white.

Vision: The walls of an unknown city. The flags of the Piercing Sun government are everywhere, and loudspeakers loudly proclaim the date (9-5-2059) and that the Horizon Initiative has beat back another separatist movement. The streets are empty.

Item: A quilted blanket on the bed.

Vision: Standing in the market of an Afghan village. A woman kneels in a small shop and sews the rug. On a small television, a muted news channel dated December 1st shows aerial shots of Kabul in ruins. Small explosions still pepper the rubble. The subject will cry after the vision ends, but is never able to explain why.

Attached File:

O5-6: Why?!

Administrator: You know why, Ali.

O5-6: What, the GOC might take offense? They don't give a shit about anything east of Turkey, they never have!

Administrator: No, because we're not in a position to be jamming our fists into every anomalous conflict that springs up.

O5-6: Then why are you even here? You disappear for months at a time and then show up to tell me that my vote is invalid?

Administrator: Because One is dead and I don't want you to go rushing headfirst into a fight you don't know anything about.

O5-6: Didn't we learn anything from Samothrace? Neutrality just means more death, you know this!

Administrator: [Sigh] Look, I agree with you, but the other te- nine don't. I've vested the power in your hands for a reason. This isn't going to end here, Kabul is just first blood. Twelve's replacement is getting fast-tracked, and he knows how to win a fight. Just, wait, okay?

O5-6: Nine. What happened to us?

[Silence.]

Administrator's Note — 6:

Ali was from the Middle East. Exposing my Eurocentrism, I couldn't tell you where exactly. He always said that he drifted from country to country after the Arab Spring. He loved it, though, with all his heart. The Foundation has a historically reviled presence in the region, so as an eminent expert on the local paranormal, he was being headhunted by us. He was also being approached by ORIA.

We promised him so many things. That keeping the region stable was in our best interests too, that ORIA's end goal was hegemony against the West. Some of it was true, some of it wasn't. In either case, he believed it, and took the job offer. Naturally, his first task was to go to ORIA and tell them he accepted their job offer. Spies are always useful.

He fed us info, fed them misinfo, all sorts of things. He's directly responsible for the strong relations we have there now. He did well for a good long while, but sooner or later spies get found out. His time came after the Dubai Djinn Incident, and we pulled him back to the States to take an administrative job, well outside ORIA's grip. He was good at his job and had strong personal connections with important players. It wasn't long before a Council spot opened up and I ushered him in.

We never quite managed to make the region stable and ORIA never quite built their hegemony, so what can really be said? All Ali knew is that he had completely screwed the organization dedicated to his people and bet all his money on us. When the Insurgency reared their ugly heads and made a first strike, he realized he'd made the wrong decision and tried to fix his mistakes. I stopped him.

He drank until his liver gave out, then drank some more.

SCP-001-07

Description: SCP-001-07 is a wooden gazebo in the gardens behind the eastern wing, painted white. It contains an arbor, which is grown over with ivy and roses. Upon stepping through the arbor, the subject will be temporarily transported to one of two extradimensional locations. While the subject is free to walk around, no actions taken will affect anything, and no one will acknowledge their presence.

Location One: A small wedding in progress on a rainy day. A man and a woman, wet in their wedding clothes, kiss under the arbor to applause from the assembled two dozen individuals. They will mingle, congratulating the couple. The woman lightly touches her belly.

Location Two: A funeral in progress on a cloudy day. A portrait of the woman stands on an easel. The casket is closed and on a table inside the gazebo, in front of the arbor. A dozen or so individuals stand quietly talking or sit silently. The man stands at the edge of the gazebo, looking out at Site-01. His face is emotionless.

Attached File:

From: o5-07@overwatch.scp.int

To: o5-01@overwatch.scp.int

Subject: Re: (No Subject)

Date: 01-08-2046

One, I really, really don't care how long you've been on the Council. You don't outrank me. So don't ever get on your high horse and think to shame me for taking action where you won't. People in our facilities are dying by the day and the Insurgency is still marching. The Veil won't fall if we evacuate who we can, even if you're too much of a coward to work with the GOC and end it. I'm not going to sit by and watch people die, One. I can't do that.

Administrator's Note — 7:

Aggie was the best of us. She had a lot of love to give. She was also incredibly talented - her rise through the ranks of Foundation administration was meteoric. When Seven died, she was pretty much the only option. His sphere of influence was containment solutions, and Aggie was the best graded HMCL out there, not to mention having firsthand experience with all the famous anomalies. She was brought on with a shake and a smile - otherwise, she would've been on the Ethics Committee, which was probably the biggest pain in the ass for the Council until the Insurgency. She always had a strong moral bone.

She met Thirteen early on though, long before that. We all work together, it's impossible not to know your fellow Overseers, even if you don't meet them physically all that often. I don't know exactly when they started their romance, but I found out in 2034. About a week before they wedded. She always was a maverick. At least they were happy together. I thought married Overseers were a road to disaster, but in those days the Council were the ones that actually ran things. It wasn't my place to say.

I was wrong anyway. They brought out the best in each other. There were bad times, of course. Every couple has bad times, but the good times seemed to vastly outnumber them. Each was the first thing the other had put on the same level as their careers. They made a funny couple - Thirteen the bureaucrat, Seven the maverick, always doing what she thought was right.

She had a lot of love to give. She died in childbirth. I don't know what happened to the child, I left that to Thirteen. He was good, but never quite the same.

SCP-001-08

A component of SCP-001-08.

Description: SCP-001-08 is a large nonfunctional machine in the basement of Site-01. The express purpose of SCP-001-08 is unknown but, by O5-8's description, is "a time machine". It has sustained heavy damage through unknown means, resulting in a number of exterior scratches and scorch marks, as well as burns and broken machinery on the inside. The interior is a small space, 2m square, with a seat and controls for the machine. One corner has been cleared of rubble and contains a small shrine with mundane memorabilia.

Item: A small black disc, 3 inches wide. When put on a flat surface and pressed, it displays a holographic photo of 2 men with a small child. The child is cutting a birthday cake. All are smiling.

Item: A crumpled paper receipt for a "Saloman Implant Repair" in New Portland. An address is given and the charge comes out to $198.74. No such store exists at the given address, but the receipt is dated to "9-16-2154". The date is repeatedly underlined in black marker.

Attached File:

O5-07: That's everything, I think?

O5-09: Lord, I hope so.

O5-11: It is everything. Meeting adjourned — unless anyone has any concerns?

O5-08: Do you ever think about when you're going to die?

[Silence.]

O5-09: Excuse me, son?

O5-08: Just generally. O5s still die eventually, that's how we got our jobs. So… do you?

Administrator: I think this discussion isn't productive.

[Silence.]

O5-12: The hell have you been?

Administrator: Fixing things. But hey Eight, maybe you should go take a lie down, huh? Meeting's over anyway.

O5-08: Yeah… Sorry guys.

[Mumbling.]

Administrator's Note — 8:

Thad was another one I truly didn't expect. For all my abilities, even I can't see into the future - he could, but only by virtue of being from there. He told us more than enough to both confirm he was from the Foundation of tomorrow and to gain our trust. He warned us about GoI movements, about containment breaches, about significant historical events. Everything we needed.

He was content to tell us what we needed to direct the Foundation into being the technologically dominant force it is today. That said, he never really ever talked about the future, when he was from. Said that it would risk causality or a paradox. I think it's funny, because he ended up proving causality anyway.

Knowing the future has the unfortunate side effect of knowing the future - he knew every single one of his colleagues, even me, would die. He knew how, when, where, whether we'd go gentle into that good night or whether the Reaper would take us kicking and screaming. He never told us, he was smart - but he carried that weight on his soul every single day, every meeting he walked into.

It's so cliche, but one day he just couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't wake up and talk to us like he didn't know the exact circumstances of our demise. He liked to come down here to think, maybe light a candle and look at the photos. I don't know who they are, but I can take an educated guess. He deserved a better end to his story.

SCP-001-09

SCP-001-09.

Description: SCP-001-09 is a medicine cabinet in the bathroom of a private bedroom in the eastern wing. The cabinet contains an array of medicines and narcotics, all contained in unlabelled amber glass pill bottles. Ingesting these medicines will result in variable but consistently positive health effects on the user, with no interim until it takes effect. Use allows suppression of medical conditions considered debilitating by even modern science.

Description: A purple and yellow striped pill, circular, stamped with "W".

Effect: Immediately causes short-lasting euphoria in the user. Alters brain chemistry temporarily to more effectively deliver hormones while sending dopamine and serotonin glands into overdrive. The bottle is completely full and still sealed.

Description: A small black pill, square. Stamped with the Foundation seal.

Effect: Stimulates the amygdala, causing the gradual loss of a long-term memory. Of the six contained in the blister pack, one has been used.

Attached File:

Two letters:

A sealed letter, found on O5-9's desk. "Grandfather" is written on the outside in curling script. There is no return address. The letter is unopened and covered in a thick layer of dust.

An unsealed envelope and folded letter paper, found in the wastebasket. Only a few words are written down: "Thomas - By the time you get this, I".

Administrator's Note — 9:

We used to joke that Jean was a lich. Never to his face, of course. I may be old, but he was an old man, to the T. Grumpy, irritable, resistant to change. Required a small pharmacy to make it through each day.

But make it through each day he did. He was the oldest man I have ever met before he became an Overseer. He was director of 19, and he had worked his whole life to make it to that spot. He'd done well - the only possible move upwards was onto the Council. He made for a good O5 - sharp despite his age, shrewd because of it. He always knew when someone was lying, and never hesitated to tell the whippersnappers like Four exactly what he thought of their ideas. I think I may have been the only one he respected.

Being in Foundation Administration generally extends your life, it's the highest quality healthcare in the world. Being on the Council is the peak of that, what with all the drinking from the Fountain, but he was old when he was brought on - rather than prolonging his life, the doctors were working to stave off the end. And it worked, too. Between the medicines, the machines, and the surgeries, I think he was about to beat out One as the longest living human on the planet.

Then one day he decided he didn't want to do it anymore. He was always inscrutable, I don't know whether something sent him over the edge or whether he decided to do it himself. He got one of his Factotums to take his wheelchair out before dawn and wheel him to the hills in the northern parts of the grounds. Said he wanted to watch the sunrise alone. The records from his vitals are still there - he sat and watched the sunrise. Then he reached behind the chair and turned off his own oxygen. The body was cold by the time someone got there.

SCP-001-10

Description: SCP-001-10 is a large dog bed inside SCP-001-03. It is pushed against the northern wall, and covered in dust. A photo of a golden retriever is pinned to the wall behind it. A number of items sit in the dog bed, including a chew toy, leash, and beaker - upon touching any of these items, the subject will find themselves standing on the southern shore of the pond on the Site-01 grounds.

Attached File:

To-Do

Olympia

Deepwell

Samsara

Eggwalker

Persephone

Back to normal

High-Level Containment Solutions

Deific Entity Neutralization (Test 343.8)

Figure out Kabul Recovery Plan

[…]

Administrator's Note — 10:

This one we all saw coming. Crow was a true genius, without a doubt. In some ways I think getting turned into a dog made him smarter, bizarrely. He was thinking in ways no human ever possibly could. He was fast friends with Three when he got brought on. I will be the first to admit that I fully recognize the hilarity in a dog as an Overseer, but Crow was one of the best men I have ever had the pleasure of working with, even if he wasn't a man.

Plus being on the Council meant he could have all the time in the world to perfect his creations. We used a lot of his tech after the Six Minute War, even more after 2050. He was a man of the future, that's for certain. He was also friendly in that doglike way. Always looking at the best in people, even when they had done nothing to earn his friendliness.

Unfortunately, he dealt with a lot of the same problems Aktus did. He was an O5, but a dog is a dog, and the unfortunate fact of life is that dogs die a lot faster than we do. Even with the medical wonders of the day available to us, we were fighting biology.

He made the arrangements in advance, he didn't want to go in pain. Spent the day lounging around the manor, playing with us, indulging in his instincts, chasing birds. We went for a walk on midday, all goddamn thirteen of us and a golden retriever. Passed by the pond, and he said this was where he wanted to do it. Walked in a circle three times then sat down and closed his eyes because the sun was in his face. I should like to think the syringe didn't hurt him too bad.

SCP-001-11

SCP-001-11.

Description: SCP-001-11 is a small armory in the basement of Site-01. A variety of firearms and traditional weapons are arranged on the walls, along with appropriate ammunition. Touching any of the weapons will display a particular scar on the subject's body, generally from a minor wound along the extrema, but occasionally from a significant torso wound. The scar disappears after letting go of the weapon.

Weapon: A vibrospear, of the sort used on Luna during the Solidarity Campaign. It is inlaid with symbols and markings.

Scar: A bite mark along the calf. The teeth marks do not correspond with any possible human dental set or known animal set.

Weapon: A custom rotating-barrel hand cannon. Emblazoned with the logo of the Foundation Agents Corp.

Scar: 15 large knife wounds across the chest, neck, and arms, ragged and violent.

Attached File:

From: o5-11@overwatch.scp.int

To: admin@scp.int

Subject: Re: Mission

Date: 05-03-2063

You gotta stop worrying about me. I've been doing this shit way before I had a desk job, remember? You had better, you're the one that put me behind it.

I have the best security detail on the planet and I'm going to a site nobody even knows about. The little people need to know we haven't abandoned them. That's how you get people actually defecting.

Focus on getting the other seats filled before you start worrying about what happens if mine goes empty, OK? You're a good boss, but you worry too much. I'll be fine, I promise.

Administrator's Note — 11:

Troy never asked for any of this, but he had the unfortunate fate of being too good at his job. I couldn't let someone like that waste their time in the Foundation hunting down magic objects and following up on Bigfoot rumours. His condition for being shoved into administration was that he could still take on field jobs if he wanted. As his rank rose, he got less and less time for it, until eventually seeing him go out was a rare thrill. He was a good goddamn Agent.

But he was right. Ultimately he knew something I still fail to understand. Some people just aren't fit for this life. It's one of intrigue, pettiness, and messy, messy politics. He was a simple, down-to-earth guy, he wasn't good for any of that. But he accepted my offer anyway. Not because he wanted to, but because he thought he should. He was altruistic like that.

Made it a surprisingly good long time behind a desk job, too. Back then if you'd asked anyone how well they thought Agent Lament would do at a desk job, you'd have been laughed out of the room. But there he was. Instead of sneaking into Adiyat or looking into the resurgence of the Spirit, he was making tactical decisions about how best to defend against the Insurgency from the protected walls of the safest place on Earth. He was good at it, but that doesn't mean he was okay with it.

One day he decided he was needed in Site-34 in the Levant. This was in 2063, near the tail end of the Crisis, where none of us were really sure which of our personnel were still truly loyal. You can imagine how worried I was about an Overseer presenting publically, but he said that the people needed to see him, to see that their leadership wasn't scared. He always cared a lot about what people thought.

One of his bodyguards turned out to not be as loyal as we thought. Troy put up a hell of a fight, though - the autolimo arrived at 34 and opened up to a bloodbath. He'd stabbed the assassin with his own knife 12 times before breaking his neck — probably good, Twelve would've castrated the guy for information if he didn't kill him. But he'd gotten cut up a lot, way too much. He might have survived if he was here. As it is, he bled out before the car even stopped.

Knowing Troy, though, that's probably exactly how he'd have wanted to go out.

SCP-001-12

SCP-001-12.

Description: SCP-001-12 is a bar cart in an auxiliary office in Site-01. It is set with a large variety of liquor and alcohol, ranging from common beers to expensive scotch. The bottles never run out; however, upon pouring any into a glass, the drink will transmute into another liquid, generally nonpotable or toxic.

Drink: Macallan 1948, aged whiskey.

Liquid: Warm, bitter water. Chemical analysis confirms trace amounts of sulfur. Bottle 3/4 full.

Drink: 1.5 liter jug of moonshine.

Liquid: Freezing cold hard water. Scalds the throat when drunk and induces unconciousness. Jug nearly empty.

Attached File:

O5-12: So I guess it's just us left now, huh?

Administrator: Hello, Twelve.

O5-13: So it would seem.

[Silence.]

O5-12: Care for a drink?

Administrator: Hah. I thought you'd never ask.

O5-13: Scotch, please.

O5-12: Huh. Never knew you drank.

O5-13: I didn't.

[Pouring.]

Administrator: Cheers, gents. It was a good run.

O5-12: Hear, hear.

O5-13: Yes.

[Quiet, intermittent sipping.]

Administrator's Note — 12:

That nutcase deserved what he got. The only reason he was on the Council is because of the Insurgency Crisis. We needed a strong, capable military leader. The last time I fought, horses were still on the battlefield. Alto was a deranged maniac but we've had a lot of deranged maniacs. Right then, we needed one.

He did his job. Beat back the enemy. The Insurgency rose and was suppressed with overwhelming force. We waged war in Asia, Africa, even the Antarctic became a warzone. And we won. Clef ceded his control of Applied Force afterwards, but he always directed massive influence in the Division. Not surprising.

After that, he didn't really know what to do. O5 was not the action-packed, cloak-and-dagger job he thought it was. Mostly just paperwork and meetings. So he lost his fervor over time. Mellowed out, became the kind of guy you could drink with instead of the guy who started bar fights. None us spent too much time around him, never really forgot the shit he pulled way back when.

One day he went looking for a fight and got one. What happened isn't important, but after he was dead and buried, I swear to god I saw the sun blink, just for a moment.

Clearance Level 001/5 detected. Would you like to open a classified file addendum?

▶OPEN ADDENDUM◀

▷CLOSE◁

SCP-001-13

Description: SCP-001-13 is a small graveyard on the outer grounds of Site-01. 13 gravestones are arranged in a grid of four columns. Each bears an inscription that changes depending on the reader, conforming to their relationship with the subject of the tombstone. The following is a list of messages as recorded by O5-13.

01. Here lies Django Bridge. An archivist to the end.

02. Here lies David Rosen. Never saw it coming.

03. Here lies Everett Mann. Could make anything except happiness. An empty grave.

04. Here lies Tilda Moose. Didn't know what she had until she gave it away. Died trying to get it back.

05. Here lies Chelsea Elliot, née Glaistig. Feet in two worlds, fit in neither.

06. Here lies Ali Ibn-Bijhan. Betrayed his countrymen. Died of the guilt.

07. Here lies Agatha Rights. The only one I have ever loved.

08. Here lies Thaddeus Xyank. Came from tomorrow to help us today. Never forgot what he left behind.

09. Here lies Jean Aktus. A relic of the past, but he knew that.

10. Here lies Kain Pathos Crow. He was a good boy.

11. Here lies Troy Lament. The best I have ever known.

12. Here lies Alto Clef. Rot in hell.

13. MEMENTO MORI

Administrator's Note:

It's been eighty years, Gears. I got you onto senior staff, then directorship, then the Council. I know you well enough to know what you do when you're thinking about ending things.

It's okay. I was here before the Council, I'll be here after. You all ran the place well, but at the end of the day, you're still human. You make mistakes, and you have flaws, and that's alright. You did the best you could, and it was pretty good.

I'm sorry for putting this crushing burden on you and the others. I can't help but feel responsible. This life isn't an easy one, they might still be alive if not for me. They'd certainly have been happier.

You were all the best and brightest of the Foundation of then. I took you and I ruined you, and I'm sorry.

Don't worry about what happens after — my office has a handle on things, we have since I stopped refilling your seats. It's time to start burying the past. Make room for the future. There will never be a group like this again, but that's okay. The mere existence of the Council seems to invite tragedy. It's time for something different anyway. I don't know what, but the age of the Council is over, I can tell you that.

Come to my study when you're ready to end it. It's okay, Charles. Don't worry. You did a good job. I'm proud of you.

▷CLOSE◁