Ladies and gentlemen, | lied. The state police are not coming. 
[Gunshot] The state police are not going to help. [Gunshot] If you 
leave your home, you will be shot. If you pass the quarantine 
perimeter, you will be shot. [Gunshot] Please lie face down with your 
hands on top of your head [Gunshot], and wait. [Gunshot.] You'll 
know when it happens. 


Good night, Night Vale, and good fucking riddance." 


[Twenty-second pause, followed by the sound of Carlos rising from 
the floor.] 


Don’t listen to Lee. He forgot his medications this morning. There is 
no reason to panic. Cecil will be back tomorrow, don’t worry. 


Proverb for the night: a stitch in the heart leads through the night, 
and further still. 


[Radio silence until execution of Penzance Protocol at 01:24. 
NEXUS-08 declared sealed with full purging of populace. 
Foundation casualties at 78%.| 


Mint Condition 


The green membrane stretched out instantly across the white 
cinderblock wall, and in a flurry of limbs, an eccentric genius and his 
grandson fell through it. 


“Come on, Morty, let’s go!” Rick said, grabbing his grandson by the 
wrist and dragging him to his feet. 


“Ww-www-wait a minute, Rick!” Morty whined. “I just... y’know. | 
guess... I’m just not comfortable with this, you know? | mean 
wwwwwhat are we doing here? Where even are we?” 


“Ugch,” Rick groaned, rolling his eyes. “Universe 173-X, Morty. Or 
as | like to call it Bu-BELCH-uzz kill central.” It occurred to Rick that 
it was probably time for another drink, so he pulled his flask out of 
his pocket and took a swig, still moving steadily down the hallway. 
“All the secrets of the universe, Morty. Every single last one of them 
passes through this universe at one time or another, and what do 
the people here do?” 


“Ah, Jeez, | don’t know, Rick!” 


“They BOTTLE it, Morty!” Rick yelled a little too loudly, grabbing his 
grandson up by the shirt and shaking him. “They bottle it up and 
keep it a secret! All the wonders, put it into these little tiny boxes! 
Whole warehouses full of the stuff, Morty! A-a-a-a cake that goes on 
forever! A teleporter made out of clockwork! If you can think of it 
they p-Burp-robably have it in here somewhere! Do you know what 
they do with them all, Morty? You wanna know what these people 
do with all the stuff they lock up?” 


Morty shook his head furiously. “Nnno.. Wh-wh-what do they do?” 


Rick’s eyes turned into slits. “VOTHING! Then they bugged out of 
his head like saucers or globes, or other large, round, white objects. 
“And that’s exactly what they’re going to do with us if they find us, 


Morty. They’re going to lock us up, throw away the key, and forget 
they ever had us. Well I’m not gonna go out like that, Morty. You 
hear me? | am not going out like that!” Rick reached into a bag and 
pulled out an orange jumpsuit, tossing it into Morty’s face. “Now 
quick, put this on.” 


Morty held up the jumpsuit with a look of shocked fear. “UUuuhh 
Rick?” 


“Don’t argue with me. Morty! You wanna be locked up forever? Is 
that what you want?” He barked. 


“Bbbbbbut where’s yours, Rick? Y’Know? I’m not the only one. Who- 
Who needs a disguise here!” 


“I’m a scientist, Morty. My whole life is a disguise for these idiots. 
Come on!” 


Morty slipped into the jumpsuit easily and zipped it up. “What?! 
Seriously, Rick? | look like I’m... y’know, some kind of...of prisoner 
or something.” 


“Oh wow, good job, Morty. You figured it out,” Rick said, rolling his 
eyes. “You sure you're not the genius who’s done this fifty times 
before?” 


“You know what Rick? Shut up! Alright? Just shut up!” 
“SHH! Quiet Morty... Security. Put on your game face.” 


Rick wiped the little bit of vomit from his chin. Morty clammed up 
instantly, shivering and shaking and sweating like a death row 
inmate on his way to the gas chamber. For once, in his life, Rick 
didn’t have anything to say about that. It was exactly the effect they 
needed. 


“Morning Dr. Sanchez,” the guard at the door ahead said, reaching 
under his desk and pressing a buzzer. “...Didn’t they give you an 
escort for that D-Class?” 


aed) 


“Yeah yeah, | know what you're thinkin’.” Rick chuckled as he 
reached into his pocket and produced a very realistic looking ID 


badge and a taser “Apparently we’re short staffed this week. 682 
had a rampage or something, | dunno. They just gave me the stun 
gun and told me to shoot him if he steps out of line.” 


“WWwwwwwww-!” Morty began, but Rick slapped him hard on the 
shoulder and dug his hand in tight. 


“Knock it off D-90723. You think | like this? You think | like being the 
bad-guy? Do you, D-90723? Like... Like this is how | get my kicks, 
or something? This is beneath me!” Rick said, and turned to the 
security guard. “No offense.” 


“Hey, none taken. | feel the same way every time one of the Janitors 
is out and they make me go in there to mop up!” the Guard said and 
chuckled. He swiped the card and handed it back quickly. “Alright go 
on in. What’s the damage today?” 


“Ah, you know | can’t tell you that, Steve! Or else I’d have to Ki- 
BURP-kill ya, and we don’t want that around, do we?” They shared 
a laugh that was a little too heartfelt and hearty for Morty to be 
entirely comfortable with as they walked through the checkpoint and 
the door hissed shut behind them. “UGH, | hate these guys so 
much? Rick groaned, and decided it was time for another drink. 


“Uuuuh Rick! Are you seriously going to taze me?” 


“What? NO! It’s not even real! Jesus, Morty, what kind of monster do 
you think | am? Like I’m just going to shoot my Grandson full of 
electricity just to keep a cover story? Of course | wouldn’t. Especially 
not in here!” 


“Yeah b-bu-but Outside? You were saying to that guard, you know? 
And it seemed like he even knew you!” 


Rick sighed as he walked, careful not to make eye contact with 
anyone else that might be in the hall, and to keep the dummy taser 
trained on his ‘prisoner’. Two little cyclopses rolled by with a soft 
buzzing noise. Through the window to the left, a bunch of men in 
white coats were looking through yet another window at a man ina 
jumpsuit placing an order on a jet-black vending machine. 
Uncontrollable laughter could be heard down the hall. “Il maybe sorta 


kinda have an alternate version of me who might have a high 
security clearance and actually agree with these whack-a-loons 
around here. Not my most flattering alter ego, Morty.” 


“Who even are they? What are all these things?!” 


The tiny cyclopses stopped in front of the pair of them and looked up 
with a hopelessly cute expression in their single eyes. Rick shooed 
them away with his foot and a few gravelly expletives. “The SCP 
Foundation, Morty. The biggest, most bloated, best funded, most 
scrupulous bureaucracy in the Multiverse. Anything that doesn’t line 
up with their primitive notions of physics, they bury it. Lock it up as 
an Es See Pee Object or whatever. Not only are they pathologically 
allergic to, y’know, rea/ science, but they’re also bastards, Morty. 
Cold hearted bastards. Even if you ignore the heart-Brap-less shit 
they’re doing to North Korea in this universe, they've got this little girl 
in... | mean, I’m a bad man Morty. I’ve done some really bad things 
in my life. But these people? But fuck these people, Morty. Fuck 
them!” 


“OooOokay, Rick. Fine. But if it’s so dangerous, what are we even 
doing here?” 


Rick sighed. “Come on, Morty. Haven’t you got the formula by now? 
We're here to get something, Morty. Something very valuable. 
Something | need for my research so | can keep doing science and 
going on these crazy adventures.” 


“What? What is it? Ddddon’t | deserve to know? At this point? 
Y’know?” 


“SSSHHHHH! Keep quiet. | know it’s around here some place.” 


Rick and Morty shuffled through the hall, down the path marked by a 
green line on the floor, through winding corridors and open 
mezzanines. Safety signs and warning symbols were everywhere, 
reminding everyone that workplace hazards (mostly in the form of 
dead people and an unidentified green substance) are very real, and 
accidents unexcusable. Morty was getting more and more worried 
by the instant, and was wringing his hands and pulling his shirt by 
the time Rick finally told him to stop. Rick looked around in all 


directions, and got down on one knee in front of his grandson with a 
smile on his face. 


“Listen Morty, you know | love you, right? Like, I’ve got your back, 
buddy. As long as I’m around, you got nothin’ to worry about. You 
know that, right? Morty?” 


Morty thought about it for a minute, not quite sure how to respond. 
He had killed his own parents more than once, carried illicit 
substances through interdimensional customs in his rectum, 
watched Rick turn the entire planet into body-horror Cronenbergs, 
only to abandon it for the universe next door where everything was 
still okay (unless you count having to bury his own corpse). And yet 
through everything, Rick had made sure that Morty remained 
relatively sane and whole. 


“Yyyyyyeah, Rick. | guess so.” 


“Alright. Good, Morty. Because through this door, there are going to 
be people, Morty. People who aren't easy to fool. And it’s going to 
take some convincing for everyone to come out of this in one piece 
Morty. That’s where you come in! You're the insurance policy, you 
get it? You’re the anchor, Morty! You’re the wing-nut that holds this 
whole plan to-BURP-ther.” 


“Www...What?!” 


Rick threw the door open and grabbed up his grandson by the back 
of the neck. From nowhere at all he produced a pistol and pinned it 
to the side of Morty's head, an insane glow cast over his eyes. 
“ALRIGHT! NOBODY MOVE OR | BLOW THIS KID’S BRAINS ALL 
OVER THIS CON-BUR-TAINMENT UNIT!” 


Everyone froze. There were twelve people in the room with vials of 
green, viscous fluid. One was pouring it onto a compact disc. 
Another, spoon feeding it to a restrained monkey. Yet another was 
mixing some of it with molten plastic; a tiny injection molder at his 
side. Morty was frozen in catatonic despair, and started muttering 
“he won't do it” over and over again, under his breath; eyes the size 
of basket balls with pupils the width of rice. 


Out of the corner of his eye, Rick saw an assistant reaching for the 
buzzer, and shot the panel before it could be pressed. “Don’t even 
try that again, alright? Whoever you are? I’m not a very good shot 

and | don’t think | could do it again. | might ki// someone!” 


“...Sanchez?” One of the researchers spoke up, still frozen in place. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” 


“| need you to give me some green slime, Bennings. Raw or refined, 
| don’t care. Jus-PURRPRPR-just put a bunch of it in a plastic 
container and I'll be right out of here.” 


“Come on, Sanchez. You know | can’t do that...” 


Rick looked at the researcher with a wild glare and shook the gun in 
his direction. “YOU WANNA GET CORPSED TODAY, BENNINGS? 
HUH? IS-IS THAT IT? You want the mouth of green minty foot- 
smelling hell to open up right under your feet? Today? That on your 
list of things to do?” 


Bennings, who had a bit of green mist on his face, and a non-trivial 
amount of it on his gloved hands, threw his arms up and shook his 
head. “Whoa! Whoa! Just take it easy, buddy! Think about where 
you are! You think you’re just gonna walk out of here with a liter of 
447 and no one is going to stop you?" 


“Pardon my saying so, but considering how volatile this stuff is, 
that’s exactly what I’m thinking. As long as I’ve got my little 
insurance policy here with me. No one wants a repeat of Summer 
‘98 in here, do they?” 


Silence from the peanut gallery, apart from the steady babbling of 
Morty, who was only just coming out of his state of shock. 


“| didn’t think so!” 


“WHAT?” Morty said, suddenly pulling away. “WHAT DID YOU 
JUST CALL ME, RICK?” 


“Morty, what are you-?” 


“NO! I’m sick and tired of this Rick! Yyy-you don’t make any sense! 


Anymore... Like, you tell me you love me, that you got my back, and 
now I’m just your puppet? You know?? Like I’m some kind of 
bargaining chip?! To get you what you want?” 


Rick started glancing around the room furtively. The facade was 
crumbling. Morty was about to blow his cover. What now? What 
now, genius? “Morty, it’s not like that, it’s just—” 


“Give me the gun Rick! You’re not robbing this place, / am!” Morty 
Demanded, Shaking free of Rick’s grasp. The researchers were 
starting to unfreeze and skitter toward the exit. 


“Morty! Not now! Jesus, | just—” 


“| SAID GIVE IT TO ME!” Morty snapped the pistol out of his 
grandfather's hand and fired two shots over the door-jam at the 
retreating researchers. “WHERE THE HELL DO YOU PEOPLE 


kid... runnin’ around. With a crazy old man...” 


Rick rolled his eyes. “Oh great one, Morty. Real take-charge kinda 
guy you are. Why don't you tell ‘em all about your high-hickKURP- 
school problems. | bet you’ll reeeally have control of the situation 
then.” Rick took a drink from his flask, poker-faced. 


“SHUT UP RICK! OKAY? GET THE FUCKING STUFF!” 


“Alright, Morty, Jesus. I’m going.” Rick muttered. Quickly he walked 
to a tank in the corner, dipped in an empty plastic jug, and pulled it 
up full. Without a word he put a ventilator over his face, and slapped 
a bit of the slime on his forehead. And then on Morty’s. Good timing, 
too, as a security team had just arrived at the sound of gunshots, 
and the entrance was full of firearms and shaking, scared-shitless 
operators. 


“Alright everyone...” Rick said, taking the pistol from Morty and 
pressing it to his own temple as he fumbled in his pocket. The 
guards and researchers gasped. Some closed their eyes. “Thank 
you all very much for your patience... We'll be going now.” 


“Rrrrrrick! What is this stuff?” Morty asked, retching at the smell, and 


SCP-615: Stick Blob 


Item #: SCP-615 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-615 is to be kept ina 
secure enclosure constructed of inorganic materials. Under no 
circumstances is organic matter, especially plant matter, to be 
allowed within SCP-615's enclosure without the approval of a Level 
4 researcher. For safety reasons, and because of SCP-615's 
aggressive and territorial nature, personnel are not allowed to enter 
the enclosure without a security detail armed with incendiary 
weaponry. 


In the event of a containment breach, all personnel in the area are to 
immediately evacuate and avoid SCP-615 at all costs. Containment 
teams armed with incendiary weaponry must be used to force 
SCP-615 back into its enclosure. In the event that such a tactic is 
impossible, security teams are authorized to terminate SCP-615. 


Description: SCP-615 is a large collection of dead and discarded 
plant matter that has somehow attained sentience. Despite the lack 
of any organs, central nervous system, or any other system 
commonly associated with a fully functioning organic creature, 
SCP-615 is able to independently move, manipulate its 
surroundings, and perform instinctual behaviors. 


Analysis of SCP-615's composition reveal it to be a mixture of 
countless pieces of discarded and dead plant material, with the vast 
majority being small sticks and broken branches. Remote scanning 
revealed nothing extraordinary within SCP-615 itself. It is unknown 
how SCP-615 is able to keep the plant matter together into a single 
mass, nor is it known how it can manipulate its own mass to perform 
motor functions. All that is currently known is that SCP-615 is able to 
move by rolling itself along the ground. Testing has shown that it is 
able to traverse level terrain fairly quickly. Obstacles prove to slow it 


all too aware that there wasn’t a single firearm pointed at him any 
longer. 


“'ll tell you later, alright Morty? C’mon, let’s go. We got a /ot more 
work to do.”