“If there are no further questions,” the scientist interrupted, starting 
to get up from the chair. “Dr. Haverty-Jones will bring you to a 
humanoid containment cell. You will be released tomorrow, and your 
first month of containment will begin three months from tomorrow. 
Understood?” 


“Yep,” Dictator replied cheerfully. “This is gonna be fun!” 


Eli groaned. 


Every SCP - Part 1 - SCP-2339 


Previous Tale — Next Tale 
SCP Featured: SCP-2339 


A part of Eli hoped that Dictator would not come back once they 
were released the next day. And yet, even taking into consideration 
the tension between the two of them... 


Another part of him wished they would. 


As much as he tried to convince himself it was only to save his own 
ass, Eli was starting to come to terms with the idea that maybe, just 
maybe, Dictator was more important than he originally thought. After 
all, he had seen for himself that Dictator possessed the power to fix 
a rift in the universe. For a moment, he pictured the two of them as 
the two main characters from the Men in Black franchise, giving 
himself a chuckle before shaking his head. 


When the morning of Dictator’s return finally was upon him, Eli 
forced himself not to bust a blood vessel over it, no matter what the 
brat decided to do. If they knew what was good for them, they would 
come back to the Foundation. The last thing he wanted to do was 
have to drag Dictator kicking and screaming from whatever portal 
they had hidden in, because that might reveal Eli as being 
anomalous himself. 


Though, perhaps, the Foundation already suspected him as being 
such; was that why he was assigned to Dictator? 


He kept these thoughts to himself as he went about his rounds, 
before a noise stopped him. Whirling around on his heel, he tilted his 
head, recognizing the strange noise. It was the unmistakable sound 
of a portal being opened. 


A few seconds after the portal — which appeared to be a section of 


wavering air — opened up, Dictator stepped through it, looking quite 
proud of themselves. Wrapped around their waist was a black leash, 
and attached to that black leash was none other than a huge, male, 
Sumatran tiger. 


Despite being attached to such a creature, Dictator did not seem 
phased, and neither did Eli. Instead, Dictator just waved and 
marched over to Eli. “Hi Eli! I’m ready to start my sentence!” 


“It's not imprisonment, kid,” Eli grumbled, trying to dodge them when 
they went to give him a a hug, but missing and resigning himself to 
being hugged as he was not able to move fast enough. The tiger still 
attached to Dictator did not seem to oppose being moved around, as 
he walked next to Dictator without a problem. “Hey, have you fed 
that thing today?” 


“His name is Oliver,” Dictator shot back, reaching over to pet the 
tiger. He offered up his head for pets, and Dictator rubbed behind 
his ears. “And yes, | have fed him. He got a whole horse leg today, 
and a head too. But | shoved it in the pocket dimension because he 
didn’t eat it all.” 


“Well, at least it won't eat me,” Eli said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, 
you might wanna get a vest for the cat. That way, some MTF won’t 
mistake it for an escaped anomaly and shoot it.” 


“Well, you have a good point, but Oliver’s like me, remember? It'll 
take a lot more than a bullet to get rid of us.” 


“I Know that." 


Turning his back on Dictator, Eli dug a map out of the pocket of his 
lab coat and shoved it at Dictator. “Here, you're probably gonna 
want this.” 


“Ooh, is this one of the cool maps that shows us moving? I’ve 
always wanted one of those!” Dictator held the map up, unfolding it 
and holding it above their head as they studied it. 


Eli groaned. “No, it’s not. It’s just a regular old map. If | had anything 
anomalous on me I'd be locked up and you would get to have some 


rando as your supervisor. And we don’t want that, now do we?” His 
voice held more than a hint of a threat. 


“Well — no, even though you’re mean to me, at least | know you,” 
Dictator said, folding the map back up. They chewed on the thumb 
of their right hand, blinking wide at Eli. Around their thumb, they 
continued, “And, well, | guess that’s preferable. So | won't say 
anything about you being... anomalous.” They paused, and then 
asked, “Do they know about... the other thing?” 


“What, about my birth certificate and me? Yeah, they know,” Eli 
replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “And they probably know 
about you, too. They'll probably want to do a karyotype on you, just 
a warning.” 


“Eh, let them. It won’t change anything, though | am a bit curious as 
to what my genes will say,” Dictator quipped. “Anyway, all of that 
aside, what are we gonna do today?” 


“First, we need to go to my superiors, tell ‘em that you made it back 
and you're ready to start,” Eli said. “And then, I'll take you on my 
rounds.” 


“Cool! What about Oliver?” Dictator asked, pointing to the 
aforementioned tiger, who had sat down and started grooming 
himself. “Will he get to come with us?” 


“They already told you, he can, as long as I’m with you. But it had 
better not cause any problems, ‘cause if it does...” 


“He’s well behaved,” Dictator assured him, waving one hand in the 
air dismissively. “Don’t worry about him.” 


“It's not him I’m worried about,” Eli muttered under his breath as he 
led Dictator back through the winding hallways. 


After checking in with the superiors and letting them know that 
Dictator and Oliver were (in a relative sense) safely within 
Foundation custody, Eli was given the clearance to go ahead and 
take them on the rounds. 


Despite Dictator’s usual talkative nature, they mostly kept their nose 
in the map, following closely behind Eli. Oliver seemed to be leading 
them most of the way, steering Dictator left and right with the leash. 


Eventually, Dictator finally spoke up. “Hey, when are we gonna see 
some anomalies? Isn't that what we’re here for?” 


“Don't forget, the Foundation thinks you are an anomaly,” Eli replied 
dismissively. “Honestly, most of these things would probably bore 
you. They’re just regular old objects that sometimes do irregular 
things. Like, for instance, we have a menu that, when you order it, 
uses meat and stuff from endangered animals. Pretty damn boring, 
right?” 


“But how does it get the meat? Does it kill them?” 


“No, it just takes muscle tissue and shit. Leaves ‘em in a daze and 
pretty confused but they never even leave their enclosure. Then we 
have a chessboard with the souls of little girls in it.” 


“That sounds interesting! How about we go see that one in action?” 


“No, it requires a child psychologist to be present, and we don’t have 
one on call right now. ‘Sides, we don’t use it except for testing, so 
unless you wanna be the next subject, I’d suggest we check out 
Safe objects first.” 


“That sounds so boring,” Dictator moaned, drawing out the “o” in 
“so” and “boring.” “Isn’t there something cool you can show me?” 


Eli paused, heaving a heavy sigh. 


“If | do, you gotta promise to keep that mouth of yours shut. 
Agreed?” 


“Agreed,” Dictator replied, nodding resolutely. 
“Alright then. Let's go hear some music.” 


“So, you brought me to a creepy abandoned theatre?” Dictator 


likelihood of SCP-836 appearance increases rapidly for structures 
over years old. 


Initial stage of SCP-836 manifests as a deformation within the 
material that grows at an average rate of grams per day. The 
mass increase seems to correspond to a density drop in surrounding 
material. The deformation is hygroscopic. Furthermore, [DATA 
EXPUNGED] which seems to initially fuel the growth. Dissection of 
SCP-836 instances shows the inside alternating between solid 
layers and a foam-like interstitial structure. At this stage, SCP-836 
poses little danger except for cases where it compromises integrity 
of delicate structures. 


If SCP-836 comes into contact with live wiring, it enters growth 
stage which initially manifests in what appears to be a metallic mesh 
growing on the surface of the deformation and connecting to the 
wiring. (However, examination has shown this to be in fact separate 
loops growing through its upper layers.) This allows SCP-836's rate 
of growth to increase up to -fold. At this point, the deformations 
often superficially mimic surrounding environment, resulting in 
outside resemblance to structural features. Along with uniform 
density drop in surrounding material, SCP-836 at this stage can 
grow by re-purposing entire sections of its surroundings. If lacking 
access to water sources at this stage, SCP-836 exhibits somewhat 
slower growth, and causes large reductions in environmental 
humidity. 


Once SCP-836 specimens weighing at least kg come into contact 
with a source of flowing water, such as piping, they tend to enter 
proliferation stage though the precise conditions required are 
unknown. At this stage, outer layers of the deformation crumble and 
enter the water stream. On first contact with most solids, growth 
similar to initial phase occurs. In this manner, SCP-836 is able to 
propagate rapidly, in one observed instance covering roughly 
square kilometres in days. 


It has been shown that heating instances of SCP-836 to over 950 
degrees Celsius for up to 4 minutes neutralizes most non-metallic 
samples. For metallic samples applying warm nitric acid has been 
shown successful. 


asked, voice echoing through the mostly-empty structure. Eli, 
Dictator, and Oliver were all walking down the narrow hallway 
leading into the main theatre, forced to walk single-file. Eli took the 
lead, with Oliver bringing up the rear. Dictator was sandwiched 
uncomfortably in the middle, pushing themselves back and away 
from Eli with every step, whilst also attempting to keep themselves 
from tripping over Oliver. “What’s so cool about that?” 


“I'll show you when we get there,” Eli chided. “We're almost at the 
main theatre. Then you'll see what’s so coo/ about this place.” 


“| can’t shake the feeling you made me walk two miles for nothing,” 
Dictator grumbled, crossing their arms but continuing to follow Eli 
through the narrow corridor. 


Finally, there was light up ahead, and Dictator perked up a bit as 
they walked out of the corridor. And then, their eyes widened when 
they saw what they were here for. 


A huge — no, an enormous — beehive was sitting in front of them. 
The buzz of the bees was almost deafening; there were thousands 
of bees, flying in and out through a broken window in a fairly 
predictable manner. Dictator gasped, reaching a hand up and 
catching a bee on their finger. 


“Bees!” Dictator exclaimed, flapping their free hand excitedly. “Look 
— look at all the bees!” 


“Yeah, bees,” Eli said, obviously faking excitement. “Lots of ‘em. But 
that’s not what makes them anomalous.” He blew air at a bee as it 
attempted to land on his nose, apparently not fazed by the flying 
insects. “Give them a few minutes and you'll see.” 


“See what?” Dictator asked as the bee on their finger took off again, 
flying clumsily through the air. 


Eli motioned with his head towards the instruments placed carefully 
in the main performance area. “Watch.” 


After a few more moments, slowly, a ripple seemed to pass through 
the hive, as if they were all getting a singular message. Carefully, 


the bees began floating away from the hive and windows and back 
towards the instruments, arranging themselves in a way they should 
not have been able to know on a cognitive level. One significantly 
larger bee flew herself over to the conductor's stand, followed by 
several hundred worker bees. Together, they clumped together to 
pick up the conductor’s baton, just as the rest of the hive was taking 
their place. 


Dictator opened their mouth to ask something, but Eli put his hand 
over their mouth, shooshing them as the “orchestra” began to play. 
A familiar tune floated through the air, and Dictator grew excited 
again. 


“| know this one! It’s “This Land” from The Lion King!” They were 
practically jumping up and down in their spot at this point. Eli stifled 
a chuckle. 


The music started out slowly, but built up to a crescendo a few 
minutes into the performance. Of course, Dictator knew the whole 
movie by heart, and Eli could practically see it running through their 
mind as they held their hands to their chest, overwhelmed with 
excitement. 


“It’s perfect,” Dictator whispered. “How do they know?” 


“They're anomalous, there’s no way of knowing how or why they 
know,” Eli replied simply. “They just know.” 


“Wow.” Dictator did not speak again until after the performance was 
finished, and at that time they simply clapped loudly, jumping up and 
down in place. “Bravo, bravo!” 


Eli smiled smugly. “See? | told you there were some interesting 
Safe-class objects.” 


Unbeknownst to the two of them, this was going to be a bright start 
to a very dark path. 


Every SCP - Part 2 - Bright Eyes 


Previous Part — Next Part 
SCP Presented: SCP-1369 


Although they were no longer in any real danger, Dictator did not 
sleep soundly in their containment cell, even with Oliver with them. 
They whined and kicked and turned over in their bed, sometimes 
gripping the headboard and clawing at the walls. After Foundation 
personnel determined this was not an anomalous quality, but rather 
simply night terrors, Dictator was left alone and not bothered any 
further. 


When they woke up the next morning, Dictator’s muscles ached. 
Slowly, groaning, they pushed themselves up with their arms and 
swung their legs over the side of the bed, making sure not to kick 
Oliver, who was resting at the foot of the bed, as they did. Even their 
legs hurt, probably from the four-mile round-trip they had taken 
yesterday. 


Cracking the joints in their fingers, Dictator looked straight into the 
camera that was observing them. “Hey, are you guys awake back 
there? I’m hungry.” 


A voice crackled over the intercom system. “Hey kid, don’t worry, | 
brought ya’ some pancakes.” 


“Did you remember the blueberry syrup?” 


“What kinda’ “caretaker” would | be if | forgot that?” Eli chuckled 
from the other side. 


A few moments later, the small metal flap at their door opened, and 
a plate with two pancakes, butter, a small container of blueberry 
syrup, and two slices of bacon was pushed through the door. 
Dictator quickly fell upon it like a starving dog, covering both 


pancakes with a thick layer of butter and syrup. 


“Don’t eat too fast, you'll get sick and if you puke on me we’re gonna 
have a problem,” Eli muttered over the intercom. Dictator appeared 
to ignore them, instead continuing to eat at their previous rate. 


After Dictator had finished their breakfast, and allowed Oliver to lick 
the plate, they turned their attention back up to the camera. “Okay, 
I’m ready to go now!” Though their tone was cheerful, there was 
something... off, about the look in their eye. 


Eli chose to ignore it for now. 


“Alright, I’m coming down,” Eli said, then swiveled around in his 
swivel chair to face one of his superiors. Startled, Eli pushed the 
chair back quickly, and was swiftly stopped by the control panel. 


“Dr. Moss,” he said after taking a breath. “Fancy meeting you here.” 


“Relax, Jones, I’m just here to give you your assignments for the 
week. | think you'll find them interesting,” Dr. Moss told him. His 
voice sounded like a constant rolling growl, which was enough to 
unsettle even Eli. He held out a paper, and Eli took it, his heart in his 
throat.