“Apologies if that seemed a little callous, Agent. We're as stretched 
by the current situation as anybody.” 


“! understand, Doctor.” 


Kritschau swallowed, looking away from the Agent. He hurried over 
to a desk and produced a form, neatly filled out. He proffered his 
pen. 


“Thank you, Agent. Your boys are doing an exemplary job.” The 
researcher affected a small smile. “I sometimes wonder why they 
can’t just scrap the paperwork and cut costs that way.” 


Chard took the pen and signed his small, rudimentary but 
serviceable signature. 


“| couldn’t agree more, sir.” 


[DATA EXPUNGED] 


Date: 8/11/2081 

Location: [REDACTED] Square 

Response Priority Level: Orange 

Description: The fountain in the centre of Square ceased 
function at 19:53. The fountain quickly became covered in algae. A 
number of organisms, believed to be temnospondylids, emerged 
from the Fountain, along with several unidentified organisms 
displaying animal characteristics though apparently made of plant 
matter. 

Follow-up Operations: Foundation Agents did not respond to the 
incident initially, as it was primarily handled by Global Occult 
Coalition agents. Event was reported to the Foundation following 
capture of several unknown organisms in the surrounding sewer 
system and discussion with GOC officials. 


The GOC had rolled in military uniforms and jeeps, a show of 
organisation and professionalism that put the Foundation to shame. 
Everything was carefully calculated and organised effectively and 
precisely. 


The setting-up of the cordon was done with clinical efficiency and 
deftness, and with minimal fuss. From the outside, it was an 
inspiring example of efficiency in public security. 


Inside, the story was somewhat different. The square was in chaos. 
The fountain was overflowing, with cold muddy water running over 
the cobbles, and the bodies that were lying on the ground. A 
woman’s corpse was being savaged by a primordial-looking thing 
coated in a thick layer of mud, and a group of smaller, green, frog- 
like creatures quarrelled over the remains of another. People were 
screaming, people were running to get away, and sluggish masses 
of foetid reeds and mosses spilled over the lip of the fountain and 
squelched, amoeba-like across the cobblestones. 


GOC Strike Team ‘Thoth’ moved in quickly, boots splashing in the 
muddy water, stepping over rafts of stinking vegetation. The 
creatures ignored them, content to chew sloppily on the dead. 
Smaller creatures waddled in the shallows, and scattered in front of 
the soldiers. The team moved past them, towards the fountain, 
hoping to gain some understanding of the situation. 


The first warning that Thoth Three got was the feel of something 
pressing against his thigh. The coldness and dampness of it didn’t 
elicit a reaction- after all, he was wading in cold water. But 
something was wrapping tight around his leg, and the faint pressure 
was what alerted him. He looked down, and saw that a large clump 
of plant matter was tangled round his leg. He reached down to brush 
it away, but then he saw the fronds flex and squeeze around his 
fingers, trapping his hands. 


“Damnit, something’s on me.” he said, relatively calm. There was no 
point in panicking, and to be honest the situation wasn’t necessarily 
a bad one. His team members turned round, as the mass of 
waterweed and ferns inched further up his leg. A clump adhered 
itself to his other foot. He tried to take a step, and couldn't. 


“Okay, Three, give us a second and we'll cut you out.” said Thoth 
Six, the team leader. He was reaching for his knife when the water 
beneath him frothed and something underwater clamped on to his 
leg. He swore, and tried to move, but he was stuck. “Looks like it’s 
got me too. Everybody else, get back.” Then he tried to jerk himself 
free. 


Instead of pulling himself out of the grasp of the plant, he lost his 
footing and, with a crash, toppled headlong into the water. The 
plant-thing moved fast, coils of waterplant fronds wrapping around 
him in a vice grip. He fought hard to get back up, choking and 
spluttering as he was forced underwater, then he bobbed back up 
coughing. He’d managed to prop himself up on his elbows and get 
his head clear of the water, provided he twisted his head to the side. 


Thoth Four took a step towards him, only to recoil as a mass of 
leaves and algal scum floated to the surface and writhed slowly in 
his direction. Thoth Six tried to shout something, but muddy water 
flowed into his mouth when he opened it and he had to cough to 
Clear it. 


As he watched his team leader struggle against the constricting 
plant to keep his head an inch or two above the water, Thoth Three 
wondered how long you could hold your breath for. Probably not 
long enough for help to come. 


Date: 13/11/2081 

Location: [REDACTED] Airport 

Response Priority Level: Red 

Description: Luggage carried by a passenger began to exude a 
thick, dark blue gas after being placed inside an X-Ray machine as 
part of a routine security inspection. This was followed by the 
manifestation of an unknown and hostile entity which was 
responsible for the death of 57 individuals. Gas dissipated after 
three hours: the entity was not found. 

Follow-up Operations: Foundation agents disseminated the story 
that the deaths were caused by a terrorist attack. Bodies were 
examined, then incinerated. 


The man who walked up to the airport security gate to have his hand 
luggage scanned wasn’t to know that by the end of the day he’d 
have been labelled a terrorist. Luckily for him he wasn’t going to 
have to suffer a tarred reputation, but nonetheless he would end up 
as aname and face on a notice board with evidence and lines of 
enquiry written up around him in board marker, based solely around 
the premise that he was involved in a terrorist attack. 


He wasn’t to know what was in the suitcase he handed to the border 
control man, even though he’d packed it. Even afterwards, picking 
through the debris, the investigators found themselves stumped as 
to what exactly he had in his luggage. 


As the tired looking, stern-faced man in uniform placed the suitcase 
in its little grey plastic tray and set it on the grey plastic rollers, the 
supposed terrorist checked his watch. The seconds ticked down as 
the suitcase rattled along into the X-ray machine. 


The border control official barely had time to register the movement 
on his screen, before a dark blue, thick gas began to seep out of the 
X-Ray machine. Someone screamed and the blare of a klaxon 
started up. The man looked in bewilderment at the X-Ray machine 
as the gas billowed out and pooled sluggishly over the ground. 
Assuming some sort of chemical weapon, people started running. 
One border officer, the one manning the X-Ray machine, was slow 
to react. The gas spread over one of his feet, and the man suddenly 
collapsed sideways as if his legs had given way. A thin limb 
emerged from the gas, and clawed fingers gripped him by the arm 
and dragged him within. 


The man with the suitcase, previously frozen in confusion, snapped 
out of his stupor and made an attempt to run. He did not get far, as 
the flowing gas seemed to change direction and pursue him. A black 
mass rose out of the gas as if shedding its skin. A long, segmented, 
chitinous tendril, like a great legless millipede, lashed out of the fog. 
It was tipped by a collection of barbs. It slammed into the man’s 
back, the spines puncturing the skin, and using the purchase to lift 
the unfortunate man into the air, and draw him yelling backwards. 
The mist enveloped him and his shouts faded into quiet. 


Others were equally unlucky. The gas quickly spread out to cover 


average diameter of 0.5 centimeters, and resemble the adult form, 
but with fully translucent skin and bones. Adult SCP-695 are 
between 10 and 15 centimeters in length with a diameter of 2 
centimeters. Adults have thin, angular heads with several needle- 
like teeth, and flat eyes in line with the head. They have several 
hook-like fins down the length of their body, and can use these for 
both aquatic and land-based movement, as well as anchoring inside 
the body. 


SCP-695 has a set of six glands along the spine, capable of emitting 
several enzymes and complex molecular compounds that mimic 
neurochemical signals. These chemicals have a marked effect on 
the human nervous system, and are capable of blocking and 
replacing conscious nerve impulses. The correct combination and 
dosage of these chemicals is still under investigation, but initial tests 
have shown that these chemicals can “short” and “redirect” action. 
(Example: Subjects will make a conscious effort to raise their hands, 
but instead will stand up). These chemicals metabolize within ten 
minutes without constant injection, and are untraceable by modern 
medical equipment. The espionage and military applications of these 
chemicals are currently under investigation. 


Addendum: 


Notes on recovery: 

SCP-695 was initially recovered from , Japan, after reports of 
an outbreak of “worms” reached the local media. The primary colony 
of SCP-695 was found [DATA EXPUNGED] freshwater. It appeared 
that the colony was attempting to migrate into city plumbing and 
sewage systems, but was prevented due to the topography of the 
lake. 27 SCP-695, 4 male hosts, and 1 female host were recovered 
for testing, with the rest destroyed. 


NOTE: Release of Life Cycle notes is restricted to research staff, 
those working directly with SCP-695, and those above Level 3 
Security Clearance. 


The SCP-695 Life Cycle: 
Juvenile SCP-695 exist free-swimming in freshwater lakes and 
streams. Juvenile SCP-695 will attempt to enter male human hosts 


much of the airport floor. Those who touched it collapsed to the floor 
completely limp, and were immediately enveloped by the mist. 
Others managed to find higher ground, jumped on counters or 
dashed madly for the exit. Some of them escaped. Others were 
dragged backwards into the fog as barbed tendrils latched on to 
them and yanked them away. 


After it was done with them, the cloud receded away from the 
bodies, leaving little patches of clear floor scattered across the 
airport. Soon, all of the screaming had stopped- those who were still 
alive had escaped, and those who fell into the miasma couldn't 
scream. There was just the hiss of the gas escaping from the X-Ray 
machine and the gentle rustling of something from within the cloud 
until, after three hours, the flow of gas stopped and the mist 
gradually dispersed. 


The bodies were not all there when the Foundation arrived. They 
hadn’t been butchered- there were no cut marks. Bits of them bodies 
simply weren’t there, as if they had been dissolved. The damage 
was bizarre and erratic- one person would be flensed of their skin, 
others would be missing limbs or large chunks of their bodies. Some 
had been given the keyhole treatment, with small patches of skin, 
tissue and bone missing, through which the organs had been 
removed. 


The bodies of about half of the dead were identifiable. The 
supposed ‘terrorist’ was identified as an Adam Eppson, and he was 
found to be missing his left common carotid artery, five teeth (all 
molars), all tissue save for bone from the fingers on his right hand, 
and small patches of tissue from his neck. 


As was increasingly becoming the case, it was eventually decided 
that the victims at the airport had been killed by a freak and 
unpreventable accident. The mechanisms of the universe had begun 
to develop stress fractures, and people were beginnning to fall 
through the cracks. 


Date: 22/11/2081 
Location: [REDACTED] Hall 
Response Priority Level: Red 


Description: During a public address, local politician began 
acting erratically, veering off-subject. The majority of the audience 
and staff at the venue were rendered comatose during the duration 
of the event. 

Follow-up Operations: A Global Occult Coalition agent 
assassinated Mr. during the course of the event, having pre- 
empted Foundation efforts to secure the anomaly. The agent was 
detained following his intervention and was highly co-operative. His 
testimony indicates that GOC forces have been severely weakened 
in the area, and that he was part of a small team acting 
independently due to this occurrence. 


“And when the people renounce their faith- not their faith in God, not 
their faith in government, but faith in the most visceral, basic of 
things, their faith in their own existence- that’s when the terrorists 
win. That’s when we everything we stand for boils away and we’re 
left with the salt and ashes of our own self-deception and hypocrisy. 


” 


Agent ‘Blowfly’, of the Global Occult Coalition, could hear the 
politician ranting, even with his noise-cancelling headphones 
clamped over his ears, and he knew he would have to work fast. He 
strode down the central aisle towards the stage. As he went, he 
glanced around the room- at least a hundred people, all apparently 
paying the man rapt attention. None of them were moving, though. 
None of them were fidgeting or leaning forwards in their seats. They 
were motionless, completely motionless. By contrast, the man on 
the podium was ranting and raging, moving frantically, his wild eyes 
staring out into the audience. 


“And | refuse to allow that. | refuse to allow it now and | will continue 
to refuse until all the clocks have been broken down into atoms and 
men have forgotten the meaning of ‘normal’. That is my pledge, and 
| will stick to it. In ages past, the people of the world were made to 
follow a contract signed and sealed without understanding. Without 
consent. A deal made before we were born. And that is what the 
Freemasons delivered us from.” 


‘Blowfly’ could feel a buzzing in his ears, and a brief flash of electric 
pain in his forehead. He drew a pistol from his shoulder holster. 
Nobody seemed to move, or really notice. Colour was beginning to 


fade from his vision, and his feet were lead weights. Blowfly pointed 
it up at the politician, but suddenly his arm went stiff and his fingers 
would not move. The politician leaned forward and went still as well, 
staring intently at ‘Blowfly’. 


“And despite that, despite that service, there are those who would 
say that what was done was wrong. That free thinking, and free 
living, and free breathing, is a crime. They want to stop you from 
flying! They want to illegalise your new-found consciousness. They 
are insidious, and | tell you that they will not abandon their quest to 
keep you chained inside your own skins.” 


‘Blowfly’ could not move. Even his lungs weren't working. It felt like 
he was about to die, just like he’d watched all the other agents die, 
immobile and choking to death. At least he would die with his feet on 
the ground. 


The image of the politician in his immaculate suit, with a forcefully 
friendly expression on his face, was off-set by his eyes, which 
seemed bloodshot, wide and frightened. The poor bastard had no 
idea what he was saying, or what was going on. 


The politician gave a spiteful smile, and with a faux-civil tone 
inquired “So, what does my honourable opponent have to say for 
himself?” He drew out the question, and the Agent’s lungs began to 
hurt. Finally, he allowed the last syllable to slip from his lips and 
hang in the air. Blowfly’s vision faded completely, and he felt himself 
slipping away. 


Then, suddenly, the force holding him in place was lifted. The 
Agent’s retort was a single gunshot. The politician collapsed 
backwards, dead within seconds, and lay sprawled in blood on the 
stage.