Efr. T : Fucking right | wanted to run! | 
don't think any of my squad wanted to stay 
there. We knew the punishments that the 
Division dealt out to deserters, especially 
during a containment breach like this, and we 
were debating running away even with that in 
mind. Besides, what were we gonna do, let 
that thing get into the nuclear plant, or even 
worse, into Pripyat? In an agitated state like 
that, 0401-42 could have inflicted hundreds of 
civilian casualties. There wouldn't just be 
national, but international outcry and 
speculation as to what the fuck happened. 
There were no other units between us and 


0401-42, or at least, none that were capable of 
being coherently organized, and we knew we 
had to do something. So we did all that we 
could do, we set up a perimeter and we looked 
for that fucking psionic. 


We loaded our rifles, checked our sights, fired 
off a round or two to make sure our weapons 
were still working. There was no reason for 
them not to be, of course, but we just wanted 
to be sure. The thing is, though...well, it was 
as if she had disappeared into thin air. Plenty 
of scattered troops were occasionally popping 
off shots, but there were no more explosions, 
no more screams, nothing. Or, well, okay, 
there were still screams, screams from the 
several wounded, as well as those who were 
hit by friendly fire. The medics had a field day, 
| think they treated something like - 
casualties? And they wanted us to organize a 
search for that fucking thing. Organize a 
search? After what had just happened? There 
was no way that any of the _ th's troops were 
going to be reliable, if they even showed up at 
their roll call the next morning. 


So it was left up to us, specifically, my squad. 
We were told to stay put, that they would 
shuttle us some supplies, but we'd be camping 
the night. The Division left us a radio, some 
walkie-talkies, more ammunition and food, and 
three flashlights, and essentially abandoned us 
for the night. Again, they determined our 
payrolls, containment breach or not, we 
weren't exactly going to be questioning their 
orders. While the rest of us slept, two of us 
would be awake at all times, and if we heard 
anything or saw anything, we'd wake the 
others and investigate immediately. We spent 
the night that way, taking our turns in the 


watch shift, our camp out in the open at the top 
of the tallest knoll overlooking the Nuclear 
plant. 


For the first few hours, all was quiet, but 
eventually, after night had fallen, activity began 
to arise. When | was standing watch, | hada 
very strict method of doing so; | would look at 
a tree for five seconds, and then swing my 
eyes over three trees to the right or three trees 
to the left, and by doing this, | would look at an 
area over the course of, say, a minute, and 
then sweep it over again. Every now and again 
| would see a small spark of light, or hear a 
rustle of movement, and | would call out, 
‘Who's there?’ | would usually get a reply, 
‘Ilvanovsky, th!’ or 'Alexandrev, Motor Rifles!’ 
or something of the like. Around one o'clock 
that morning, however, | finally saw the 
definitive shape of the Object. The moon was 
out, its light made the grassy field around us 
shimmer. The wind was gentle, it was quiet, 
occasional breezes rustling the tree leaves, 
and out of the wind | heard what sounded like 
a despairing moan. Due to my exhaustion, | 
played it off as my ears playing tricks on me, 
until my eyes caught sight of her, of course. 


She was shambling across the field, sparks 
coming from her eyes, her head drooped, 
arms limply hanging from her side. She was 
still in her white hospital gown-like clothing that 
the Division had given her, though whether it 
was speckled or simply tattered | couldn't tell 
from how far away she was. She was 
probably...a hundred, hundred and twenty 
meters away when | saw her, and | froze. She 
wasn't heading right for us, hell, | doubt she 
knew where she was going, but her path would 
mean she was walking less than ten meters 


from our tents, and that was assuming she 
passed by harmlessly. It was a setup for 
disaster. 


Azarov was the other one on guard duty, and 
he was looking the other way. 'Azarov!' | 
remember whispering to him, 'Go wake up the 
others, tell them to stay in their fucking tents 
and turn the lights out. After you've done that, 
you come with me, and we'll stay in my tent. 
0401-42's coming this way. | see her.’ He 
looked at me quizzically, then looked where | 
pointed, and his eyes widened. He didn't 
question me, just ran over and woke up the 
others one by one. | crouched, meanwhile, and 
got back to my tent as quickly as possible. The 
lights went out, and | unzipped the flap on my 
tent, looking out of it, just peeking, trying to 
see where 0401-42 was. It was torturous, that 
much is for fucking sure. It took her twenty 
more minutes to get within audible speaking 
range of our tents, and | could hear that she 
was mumbling, though whether it was 
Vietnamese or another language, | couldn't 
tell. It got even worse, though. 


Dr. Vortikovic: How so, Konstantyn? 


Efr. T : She fucking stopped, that's how. 
She just stood there, rambling to herself in her 
demented Vietnamese or whatever-the-fuck 
language. My heart was pounding, there was a 
frog in my throat, my feet were numb, my 
mouth was dry. | was fucking terrified and | 
didn't dare make a sound. At one point | 
ducked down because | was sure she had 
turned to look in my direction, but if she saw 
me, she didn't do anything about it, she just 
kept standing there. When her gaze was finally 
averted, | resumed looking up, only to discover 


with horror that Ignatyev and Volokov had, for 
some reason or another, stood up in their tents 
and tripped over something, causing their 
entire tent to collapse. 0401-42's head 
snapped in that direction, and | was only able 
to mutter 'Chyort...' before all hell broke loose. 


0401-42 began to wail again, fingers curling 
into fists as sparks flew from her eyes. She 
charged the tent, and | could hear Ignatyev's 
screams as she tore him limb from limb. 
Someone, | assume Volokov, fired a shot, and 
he, too, then screamed. | didn't see what 
happened to him, for by that point | had yelled 
‘Out! Out! to Azarov and we had taken off 
running. Loginovsky, Kostikov, and Benevich 
were right behind us, the five of us hoofing it 
down the hill towards the Nuclear plant in the 
dark, 0401-42's wails growing louder as she 
sprinted after us. Benevich tripped, and 
0401-42 didn't give him a chance to so much 
as blink before he was vaporized, and it was 
his death that gave the remainder of us the 
chance to get the hell out of there. We reached 
the Nuclear plant, taking shelter in the area 
around Reactor Four, and thought ourselves 
safe. What a mistake that was. 


< END LOG > 
< END DOCUMENT 0401-42-2> 
SHOW DOCUMENT 0401-42-3 


< BEGIN DOCUMENT 0401-42-3 > 
< DOCUMENT CLASS: INFORMATIONAL/ 
INTERROGATORY > 


Foreword: The following is the log of an interview with 
Camera Operator (Ret.) Vadim K (Dec.), formerly in 
charge of Reactor #4 Security Camera Circuit, Chernobyl 


SCP-879, subjects will strip themselves of clothing, make physical 
contact with the entity, and [DATA EXPUNGED]. Surgical removal is 
only viable within the first hour of absorption, and has only been 
effective in . % of attempts. 


SCP-879 currently has no fewer than seventy-three individual 
humans absorbed into its own body, which now exist as vestigial 
clusters of organs. The subjects’ neural and cardiovascular systems 
are linked to that of SCP-879, while unnecessary systems such as 
the digestive and respiratory have atrophied. This effectively grants 
SCP-879 a secondary nervous system and the appropriate means 
to oxygenate it, as well as the functions granted by the repurposing 
of these grafts. Absorbed bodies fall into one of three categories: 


* Sexual: Grafts will be repurposed into reproductive organs, 
supplying eggs and sperm to SCP-879 and granting it the 
capability of hermaphroditic reproduction. 


Chemosynthetic: Grafts will become organs housing 
specialized bacteria which feed off of hydrogen sulfide that 
has been absorbed by SCP-879 and are used as a steady 
supply of energy. 


Unspecialized: Grafts will serve no further purpose after 
absorption. 


SCP-879 was first seen in 1976, when it beached itself on the island 
housing Site-55 (Coordinates [REDACTED], off the coast of 
Antarctica), and proceeded to absorb the staff present and spawn 
the first generation of SCP-879-2. This breeding site has been used 
for all subsequent generations, with an average of 3-4 years 
between beachings. Outside of reproduction, SCP-879’s recorded 
pre-containment behavior consisted solely of seafloor hibernation 
periods used to absorb hydrogen sulfide from deep-water vents and 
a migratory swimming pattern contained within an approximately 
1200 square mile section of the Antarctic and south Pacific oceans. 


There have been nine recorded generations of SCP-879-2, 
(Classified as SCP-879-2a to SCP-879-2i) and a total of eighty-six 
individuals living on Site-55 as of / /20 . The appearance of these 
differs from brood to brood: earlier generations bear more 


Nuclear Power Plant. Interviewing K is professional 
Division-P researcher and informational liaison to the 
Main Intelligence Directorate Alexander Dyatlov. The 
following interview took place within K 's at-the-time 
residence, the Psychiatric in Pripyat, where 
he was moved several months prior to this date after his 
successful recovery from radiation burns. K is under 
the impression that Dyatlov works for a local branch of 
Pravda, and furthermore, K has not been informed 
of either the Division's existence, or the nature of what 
he saw. K had initially been approved for 
administration of Class-C amnestics following the end of 
the interview, however K had passed away before 
the amnestics were able to be administered. 


Date recorded: 0 /0/198 
< BEGIN LOG > 


Dyatlov: Thank you for having us, Tovarisch. | 
promise you, this won't take a very long time. 


K : It is no intrusion, Mister Dyatlov. It's not 
like | get much company nowadays, anyway. | 
feel | must apologize, however, because | can 
only remember so much from that night, no 
matter how much Pravda would like for me to 
remember. I'll tell you what | can, but | beg of 
you, if | say | do not remember, or that | do not 
know, that you believe me. 


Dyatlov: | believe that can be arranged, Mister 
K . What is important, after all, is what you 
can remember. The accident at Chernobyl, 
while not overly serious, is still an accident, 
and accidents must be learned from. There 
were deaths that night, and don't think that 
reflects on you, Tovarisch. Your actions likely 
saved many lives, as a matter of fact. So let's 
put any lingering thoughts of guilt and self- 
blame to rest, hmm? 


K : Thank you, Mister Dyatlov. Truly... 
thank you. 


Dyatlov: It's no problem whatsoever. Now, to 
the matter at hand, shall we? 


K : Of course. Where would you like me to 
begin? 


Dyatlov: Initial reports indicate that the 
accident occurred around 1:23 in the morning. 
What happened throughout the day before 
then? 


K : Not much, they were testing a new 
emergency cooldown feature, if | remember 
correctly. It was a slow night, | confess | wasn't 
being the most attentive at my job. It was late, 
| was tired, it was the weekend. You see how 
easily | make excuses for myself? 


K smiles. 


K : As for the day itself, it was uneventful. 
My shift started maybe five, six o'clock at 
night? It had been an average day before then. 
My wife was working on grading assignments 
at the schoolhouse, and | had been home 
watching our new child, Roska. She's a 
gorgeous little thing, had only been born a few 
weeks before...sorry, sorry. I'm getting off 
track. It had been a lazy Saturday in Pripyat, 
and it would surely be even lazier a Saturday 
night. There had been whispers through the 
town of some sort of live-fire drills a kilometer 
or so east of the plant, and throughout the day 
we could hear dull thuds of tank cannons and 
whatnot. Evidently, there had been a mishap 
with a live bomb or something, because earlier 
there was a high-pitched whistling followed by 
a large bang, 


K slams his clenched fist against the table 
to simulate the effect, 


K : With reports of casualties to boot. It 
was awful, from what I'd heard, and doubtless 
Pravda would have a story about it the next 
day. | was late to work. | had nearly run over 
some poor girl! She was standing in the road, 
whimpering, her back faced to my car, dressed 
in a white hospital gown. | tried to ask her if 
she was alright, but she simply screamed, 
whipped around, and | nearly rammed her with 
the front of my vehicle before | slammed on 
the brakes. She ran off before | could ask her if 
she was alright. At least | didn't kill her, | 
remember thinking, before | drove the 
remaining few kilometers up the road to the 
Plant and punched my card for the night shift. 
Had | known what she was, what she could 
do...well, they would have put me in this place 
sooner, wouldn't they? 


Dyatlov: What could she do, Tovarisch? What 
happened that night? 


K : | still am not entirely sure of what 
happened at first, Mister Dyatlov, but the 
second part of that night is something that still 
provokes the occasional nightmare. | wouldn't 
wish that kind of terror, fear, and pain on my 
worst enemies. Pardon me if I'm not the most 
capable of describing it, Mister Dyatlov...there 
simply aren't words sufficient to do so, at least 
with ease. 


Dyatlov: Of course. Like | said, we have all 
day. Feel free to take your time. 


K nods, remaining quiet in order to gather 
his thoughts. 


K : To answer your earlier question, Mister 
Dyatlov, | don't know what she could do. Not in 
full, at least. | knew she had the capacity to kill, 
and | knew that she was about as feral as a 
human being can devolve into being. There 
are whispers from other survivors that she was 
some sort of psionic, but | never saw any 
electricity flying from her palms. | do know, 
however, that she broke in to the facility that 
night, and shortly afterward there was some 
sort of power surge, the same power surge 
that led to the explosion in Reactor 4. Luckily, 
the soldiers who arrived were able to contain 
her, and save my life. 


Dyatlov: Soldiers? From the th, perhaps? 
There were live fire drills that day, after all, and 
some of the bystander accounts say that they 
scattered after the bomb went off. 


K : Maybe they were from the _ th, though 
they wore no uniform that | ever saw. | admit 
that | haven't exactly been keeping up with the 
times, but | served with the th at Zhenbao 
Island in 1969, and though | don't remember 
much aside from the Chinese falling upon us 
like waves, | do remember that our uniforms 
did not look like theirs; they weren't Soviet 
Army, but they were also no special agents, as 
far as | could tell. 


| ran into them around five past one in the 
morning. The testing on the Reactor was about 
to begin, some new fail-safe method they had 
come up with and wanted to test. As such, 
they had demanded that my security camera 
circuit be running at all times. They knew that | 
was tired, they told me, but this was one of the 
most important tasks that | had ever been 
given while working at the Plant, and they