Discovery: SCP-123-EX was captured following a raid on Gol-070 
("Chicago Outfits") in collaboration with the Bureau of Prohibition on 
11/1/1928. The Bureau had received an anonymous tip claiming that 
Person of Interest-523 ("Julius 'Sawteeth' McGallan"), member of 
Gol-001 ("Chicago Spirits") was working at an illegal brewery 
operated by Gol-070, and that Person of Interest-523 was 


attempting to harm the latter's manufacturing efforts. 


Foundation officials contacted the Department of the Treasury, 
requesting a cooperative operation to stop manufacturing efforts of 
Gol-070 and to arrest Person of Interest-523. 


Twenty agents were dispatched from each organization. During the 
raid the brewery caught fire, causing an explosion that resulted in 
the building's collapse. All suspects were killed except for SCP-123- 
EX. 


Archivist's Note: For the sake of easy reading, the following 
documents have been ordered linearly. Documents have been 
selectively edited to help facilitate that goal. For full documentation 
on SCP-123-EX, see Document-ASFIN1. 


Addendum-123-A 


On 11-17-1928, SCP-123 was ordered to write down the events that 
occurred within the brewery before its destruction. 


It was around 11 A.M, and | was helping a few harps 
move some barrels around when | heard the gunshots 
from outside. Then someone yells something about 
coppers in the building, and | start feeling scared. You 
see, the boss had the dryheads and coppers off our 
backs. It was a real smart operation, the brewery was. 
The boss has the prohibition guys paid off and we kept 
the profits. Every dryhead in the city was drinking like the 
rest of us. 


The two harps run off somewhere and | sit down. I've 
been pinched before, so | knew what to do. When you 
work in the business, you learn to take a pinching every 
once in awhile. | lit myself a fag and sat down near some 
barrels. The one thing that | noticed was this guy near 
the window. | remember him looking scared, but cant 
recall anything big, other than he looked like he saw a 
ghost. | think he may have had something in his mouth, 
like he was one of those squirls [sic]. It didnt look right. | 


call out to him, and he tumbles back, and falls into some 
of the barrels. | remember alcohol going everywhere. 


| must have dropped my cigarette cause | remember it all 
just catching fire. He starts screaming, running all over 
the place. Some of the harps start getting some water 
buckets and throwing some water onto him but it didn't 
work. They all just dropped dead the moment they did it. 
He's still running around screaming, and_ he's 
bumbing[sic] into so many different things. 


Then he bumbs [sic] into the brewer, and the entire thing 
just explodes, and the entire building starts to shake. 
And it weren't no normal shaking either. It was like the 
foundation itself was gonna collaspe [sic] on itself, 
crushing all of us. Around this time, | start getting afraid. | 
couldn't even force myself to move, that's how afraid | 
was. 


It's in that type of moment that makes a body start 
praying. It wasn't something | thought about, | just started 
doing it. | don't believe in god or anything like that, but 
my mother taught me the Lords [sic] Prayer, and I'm glad 
for her teaching me that, cause | repeated it a thousand 
times in that building. 


The building began to shake, and | close my eyes. 
Again, I'm praying. Then | hear the giant boom, like 
dynamite. | open my eyes, and | see the building around 
me, destroyed. I'm the only one alive. | thought | was 
dead at first, but only after looking down and seeing | 
was practically untouched. There was always this large 
patch of the roof with nothing on it, and it always leaked 
water. | was in that patch. 


| guess you could say I'm the luckiest man alive. 


Addendum-123-F 


The following entries are from SCP-123-EX's diary prior to the 


discovery of the events detailed in Addendum-123-D 


Entry: 12/1/1928 -- 4/30/1930 


12/1/1928 


The doctors gave me this diary. They said it 
was to help me get used to my situation. | 
don't think | could ever get used to a situation 
like this. | haven't been able to talk to anyone 
since | arrived here. | hadn't even a single 
beer. What has this world gone to! 


12/7/1928 


| talked with the doctors. Nice one called 
Sharp.. Asked me a bunch of questions. Asked 
me about my friends, the Outtfit, etc. | didn't 
pinch on them, but | get the feeling they're not 
after them. 


12/9/1928 


| heard some old hebrew lady cry tonight. The 
walls are thin. Something about a funeral. | 
don't think this is the first time she's been told 
something like this. Asked Sharp how long 
she's been here. Said it wasn't for me to know. 
| dont think he knows. 


12/11/1928 


| asked Sharp about why | was here. He said 
nothing beyond that | was 'special’. Wanted 
him to explain but said it wasn't my place to 
know. | think I'm in an asylum. 


12/13/1928 


Cant sleep. Heard shooting and shooting from 
the other rooms. I've been stuck in this small 


SCP-564: Incomplete Primitive Cyborg 


Item #: SCP-564 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-564 is to remain on the 
assigned bedding at all times. Due to the fragility of SCP-564-1, 
contact with SCP-564 requires special clearance for testing 
purposes only, for its own safety. Access to its point of origin is to be 
restricted to those with approval for testing. Anything removed from 
the area is to be kept in the same container as SCP-564. 
Communication with SCP-564 requires Level 3 or higher clearance. 
Communication is to be recorded via audio recording devices. 
Addendum: Communication now required to be recorded visually 
as well. Communication with SCP-564 is now restricted to written 
notes with its available hand. (See Test Log 564-04) 


Description: SCP-564 was located in [DATA EXPUNGED] which 
appeared to have been abandoned for at least years. Several 
commonplace tools were contained within the room, along with a 
few objects of unknown purpose or identity. 


SCP-564 appears to be a construction assembled of various 
materials, resembling an adult female human of exactly 1.5 meters 
in height. The outer shell of its form, making up most of the body, is 
primarily compressed sandstone, with traces of an unknown 
material. Inside the limbs, chest, and head runs a network of poorly 
insulated copper wire and rubber tubes, which carry a golden-brown 
fluid of unknown composition. Eyes, resembling those of a normal 
person, are large pearls. There is also a small gap where a mouth 
would be, but aside from a rough shape no other external body parts 
of normal humans have been replicated on the construction. 


SCP-564-1 resides in a cavity accessed by a panel on the chest 
region of SCP-564. It appears to be a large, transparent and slightly 
luminescent blob, surrounded by an iron ring with numerous holes in 


room for the past month at this point. | don't 
even know if its been a month. They give mea 
clock and a calender but | don't know if its true 
or not. Maybe its been a week. Maybe two or 
three maybe even a couple of months. They 
keep the lights on. Asked the doctor about it 
the other day. Told me it was to keep an eye 
on the patients. Why does this asylum have 
guns lying around the place? 


12/14/1928 


Got something from under the door. Small 
packet of papers. Name's on it. Say I'm 
‘anomalous’. Not sure what the word means, 
but | don't think its a good thing. Apparently I'm 
"capable of causing statistically improbable 
outcomes". I'm lucky, if I'm reading this 
correctly. If you could even call this luck. 
Arrived with another thing, something about a 
gang called "Chicago Spirit". GOI-1, they say. 
Something about the dryheads and 
cooperation and some other shit. 


12/19/1928 


| asked the doctors for some books or papers. 
Haven't gotten anything since the papers from 
under the door. | shoved those things under 
my pillow. | have no where else to put it other 
than possibly the toilet, but | dont want them 
asking me why my toilet is filled with secret 
documents. 


Doctors said no. | swear if | don't get 
something I'm gonna lose my fucking mind. 


12/20/1928 


Doctors making me do simple tests. They told 
me afterwards that I'd be ready to interact with 


the other "skips". 
12/25/1928 


Questions, questions, questions, and even 
more goddamn questions. Been hammering 
me for days now, all day. Doctor's droaning on 
and on about questions that | don't care 
enough to answer but will have to anyways. 
Almost makes me wish | was crushed under 
that damn building. Sharp seemed to look me 
in the eye as these doctors yammered. They 
told me he was so sorry. | think he meant it. 


2/1/1929 


| finally got a newspaper. Came with my food 
under the door. Best feeling in the world. Stuff 
about the stock market, but | didn't care, as 
long as | got something to read. Whoevers 
doing this is my hero. 


2/2/1929 


| got something different. Again it came from 
the food. A report looking thing. On the front it 
had the words "DESTROY AFTER READING" 
written on the front. | took it up and read the 
summary. It was about this guy who could 
control electricity. | know | should be freaked 
Out by this, but I'm numb to it. | guess being 
locked up for the past three months in this hell 
hole can do that to you. It began with his 
abilitis. intelligent and anomalous. Big picture 
of him. It's the guy. The one | killed. Apparently 
he was some big shot at a gang called the 
"chicago spirit", even a made man. Had long 
teeth to shock people with. Guess that's why 
they called him "sawteeth". Flushed it down 
the toilet. Guards dont seem to notice. 


2/18/1929 


| think I'm sick. Every time | stand up my legs 
feel like they're going to stop working and give 
way under me. Every time | breath | feel like 
it's stifled or hard. Everytime | sit down | feel 
stiff and like the world is whirling around me. | 
feel like I'm going to die. No, I'm going to die. 
At least, if | get out of here. 


New report. Big letters on the front saying 
"GOI-1 Chicago Spirit". 30 pages out of a 
much bigger report. Maybe 300 pages. Doesnt 
matter. | dont think | could read stomach the 
rest. It was about their "Tactics". what they do 
to people who hurt them. Only 14 pages were 
actually words. The rest were pictures. People 
who kill their bosses get hurt. They get hurt 
bad. Earliest stories were of some guy named 
Johnny. The papers said his fingers were 
ripped off with pliers, eyeballs stabbed out, 
and penis smashed with hammer until it was 
unrecognizable. Organs sent to family but 
stopped by postal service. 


They had pictures as well. His face won't leave 
me. 


3/20/1929 


You never get the image of nails jammed into 
a man's eyeball out of your head. 


Note came with food. It was a letter. | opened 
it and read it. It was from mom. 


It was short. She said | hoped | was doing well 
while at college and that | would write soon. It 
was the same letter she had written for the 
past five years. 


| wish | had a beer. 
3/29/1929 


Another note. Another letter from mom. Said 
she hoped | was doing well at college. This 
time she said she lost her job and that she was 
doing horribly, but hoped that my studies were 
doing well. 


| chewed it up and threw it up in the toilet. 
4/13/1929 


Sharp asked me about how I'm doing here. 
Lied. Said he was glad | was getting used to 
the site. Said if the tests and interviews 
continue the doctors may allow me to talk to 
other patients. 


| think I'd prefer a shotgun in my mouth at this 
point. 


4/15/1929 


Another document in my food. Was my 
‘approval form’. | really like the wording, mr 
fucking sharp. "It is better to err on the side of 
caution in such circumstances" fuck you. 


4/16/1929 


i had a nightmare last night. sawteeth was in it. 
he had two sickles and i was upside down on 
some table. he positioned the two sickles into 
my mouth in opposite directions. one towards 
the bottom of my mouth and other towards the 
roof. he stabbed them both. i felt blood poor 
out. it hurt. it hurt so much. i couldnt scream. 
the only thing my body could do was feel the 
pain. he applied pressure on both sides of my 
mouth. i felt my jaw pop and fresh air fill where 


my jaw used to be. it felt so cold then. then the 
blood came out and it felt slightly warmer. he 
leaned in and whispered this is warm up. 


[unknown date] 


let me fucking die let me fucking die let me 
fucking die let me fucking die let me fucking 
die let me fucking die let me fucking die let me 
fucking die let me fucking die let me fucking 
die let me fucking die let me fucking die let me 
fucking die let me fucking die let me fucking 
die let me fucking die let me fucking die let me 
fucking die let me fucking die let me fucking 
die let me fucking die let me fucking die let me 
fucking die let me fucking die let me fucking 
die let me fucking die let me fucking 

[Repeats for two and a half pages] 


5/30/1929 


asked them for a dictionary. said itll be here in 
about a year. i have all the time in the world. 


9/1/1929 


received another piece of mail from mom. says 
shes coming up to met me in chicago and 
thanks me for paying for her train tickets 


threw away. 
9/17/1929 


says it was a nice visit and that she hopes to 
find an apartment soon with my money. im the 
nicest ive been in years. 


threw away. 


11/1/1929 


shes dead. obituary in mail. found in river. 
lynched. 


couldnt even throw it away 
12/1/1929 

i think the foundation broke me 
12/25/1929 


| cried for the first time in the past year. Got 
letter. It was from the giver. 


He said he was sorry for everything | had ever 
gone through. He said that he was the one 
who sent the letters. Wants to protect me, he 
says. Thought sending the letters would 
motivate me and show me dangers of Spirit. 
Worked, | supposed. Trying to get me more 
interactions with other people, like other 
mobsters. Wont happen, but it'd be a nice 
gesture. Also hid something else under the 
food. Surprised no one saw it. 


It was a dictionary. 
1/11/1930 


Another letter. Same guy. Says he's been 
personally paying for my apartment. Says it's 
better than getting my stuff because it's 
suspicious for him to get the stuff himself. Also 
said he'd feel uncomfortable going to my 
apartment without a guard or twenty. 


| love him. 
1/19/1930 


Brought me a bible. Just the jesus bits, the 
ones my mother used to tell me and force me 


to read. 
2/15/1930 


The jewish lady died. Doctors said she had 
been in a coma for the past year and was only 
a matter of time. Had been in containment for 
‘thirty years’. That's probably how long I'll be 
here. 


4/30/1930 


| don't think | need this diary anymore. | should 
probably destroy it, but that'd get suspicious. 
They really don't care about me or anything 
like that, or else they would have checked it by 
now. But | think | should keep it just in case. 


Plus, I'm running out of paper. No point in 
writing if there's no paper. 


Addendum-123-D 
S.C.P Object Proposal 


By Dr. Herbert 


Date: 5-11-1930 


Object: SCP-123 


Proposal: To remove SCP-123 from containment, to 
change his object class from Euclid to Explained, and to 


reintegrate. 


Reason: SCP-123's anomalous abilities have been 
proven to be non-existent. New Hume related technology 
provides adequate evidence. Hume coefficient of normal 


human. 


S.C.P. Personnel Disciplinary Form 


Date: 5-11-1930 
Personnel: Dr. [REDACTED] Sharp, Level 3, Site-11 


Reason: Interference of S.C.P. Foundation operations, 
lying under oath, general indifference to standard 
Foundation operations. 


Disciplinary Action: Demoted to Level 1 official, 
assigned to Site-43, permanent restriction of interactions 
with sapient objects.