"Shepherd, | need access to the Repulse." 
"Are you sure that is wise?" 


"I'm sure that it's the only way we could possibly have an edge on 
the Hoarders. | want to bury them. I'm going to bury them." 


It started as a whisper until she turned to the Broker; Voss pleaded, 
"Why?" 


"It's just business," Zev squatted down to look her in the eye, "but 
now it's my personal business. 


Thief 


The troops piled out of the vans as Roman was handed the 
megaphone by the commander. The sector was evacuated of 
civilians, and the soldiers prepared for siege. Through the glass of 
the facade, the once-bustling office looked abandoned. The vague 
shapes moved slightly in the shadows of the lobby were the Unit's 
only confirmation of the threat that lay in wait. 


Before Roman could issue the order to the forces, the commander 


placed his hand on his arm. "Wait. Something's happening." 


Roman tried to reach Yorston for a clue until the static buzzing from 
his headset reminded him. 


Mu-3 climbed two stories under their radio silence. The building 
adjacent to the offices was perfect for the maneuver; no alley, thin 
walls, and entirely evacuated. Yorston had a hole cut through the 
plaster and brick of the adjoined wall of the two buildings. The 
crappy carpeting and taupe walls, through one and a half feet of 
brick and mortar, changed to gleaming tile and silvery walls of the 
MC&8D building. 


The mirroring floor was scuffed and dusted by the team moving in 
checking the area for hostiles. Yorston moved for the Containment 
specialists next, but as the last agent stepped through the carved 
door, a reverberation shook the structure. The agent's foot caught in 
the hole as a wave of greenish force moved outwards from the 
offices stopping at the boundary. A clean burn sliced the Foundation 
agent's limb off in a flash, leaving the forgotten boot on the other 
side of the shimmering barrier. 


“Thompson! Shit. No turning back." Yorston recalibrated as the thief 
grabbed his amputation, "Franks, stay here with Thompson. Find a 
safe place to wait this out." 


The soldier helped Thompson up, carrying him to a restroom. 
Yorston pulled out the detector, the green blinking showed 
anomalous activity all over the place; until he caught a glimpse of 
concentration. "There. West, Northwest area." The captain switched 
off the disruptor, there was next to no surveillance above the first 
floor. "Charlie? You read?" 


The receiver picked up a voice long missed, "Hey, Al. What do you 
need?" 


"Control. Thank god. Do you have the floor plan to this office?" 
"| just got everything about it. Sending it now." 


"Got it, Cap," the second thief had the tablet out. 


to refuse enough care that they did not recover from their physical 
decay. 


As exposure to the extreme elements of northern Alaska appears to 
adequately contain SCP-804 by freezing its remaining machinery in 
place, it was decided to leave the device on site and under guard 
along with a [DATA EXPUNGED] in the unlikely event that a hostile 
faction attempts to secure the device. 


Addendum SCP-804 is not to be contained within any Foundation 
facility until it is certain that we will be able to prevent anyone from 
being compelled to activate or maintain the rotation of the globe. 
Even a few minutes of SCP-804's effect could destroy its own 
containment and seriously compromise any other containment 
nearby. 


Contingency 804-X [DATA EXPUNGED] 


Memetic Research Report, revised July 2011 by Dr. Johannes 
Sorts 


This is the third annual review of any "supernatural" 
memetic component to SCP-804, and we still have not 
produced any significant results. It's time to put the 
controversy on SCP-804 memetic properties to rest once 
and for all. 


Yes, SCP-804 possesses memetic properties, and yes, 
these properties were responsible for driving the 
survivors of its activation event into sacrificing 
themselves to maintain the device. 


But there is nothing especially virulent or dangerous 
about SCP-804's memetic properties. Only a few select 
personality types, outlined in the attached report, have 
any desire to re-activate the device. Most notable are the 
D-class sociopaths who show similar amusement when 
presented with a big red button that says "kill 
everything." 


We've been looking at this all wrong, there is no magical 


"Thanks, Control." The teams moved toward the mass of activity, 
until they came to a small office. "Set the charges." 


"Field is set, Zev. Send in the welcome wagon?" The question was 
rhetorical. 


Shepherd aimed his launcher at the glass walls after rounding the 
corner. The smoke grenade flew through the shattered panes, 
landing barely burned in the middle of the SWAT teams. Gunfire 
immediately followed, more for intimidation than anything; they knew 
the Feds had no idea what they were shooting at. The hail ceased 
after they realized the bullets weren't even penetrating the green 
energy barrier. 


Shepherd understood he couldn't keep this up for too long. The 
teams, the investigations, the police alone were enough to destroy 
any hope for him to get out of this unscathed in the eyes of the LLP. 


"Fuck it." 


The Repulse stopped. The hired guns came out of their cover to 
open fire, shattering the remains of the glass windows. Each was 
disabled by the agents one by one. The precise fire managed to 
miss Shepherd by an inch. He turned and let fly the rounds from his 
Armsel Protecta; nailing three soldiers in the head before he was 
dropped. The teams moved in, stepping over the glass and bodies 
of the felled agents. Rushing past, a couple of them didn't notice 
when Shepherd grabbed the officer and ripped off his grenade belt 
while firing off the rest of the drum magazine from his shotgun. 
Before the SWAT captain could tell his men not to fire, the grenades 
blew. 


Zev heard the blasts. He knew they'd be in soon, with little time for 
any escape. It was the third blast that really caught his attention. 
Pulling the 9mm from his jacket, he raced down the halls to the back 
rooms. The dissipating smoke made it evident. 


"Get me security, NOW" He ran back to the main surveillance area 
to meet with Voss. "Get me the hel/ out of here!" 


He was met with Voss at gunpoint by the SWAT officers covering 
the area. The mascara streamed with her tears. Roman aimed his 
pistol straight at Zev's temple. "Bang." 


Yorston finally broke the locks. After his team wasted so long sorting 
through the columns of crates and merchandise for the call 
numbers, they'd found the cart. Once the main panel was off its 
hinge, Yorston asked Rollins to get into the mainframe. 


"Control? Do you have anything that can help? This looks 
ridiculously sophisticated..." 


"Someone sent us the schematics." 
"THIEF actually get back to you?" 
"No. Someone else. Rollins, what do you see? Which part?" 


Rollins switched on her mic, "I'm in the main boards. This really is 
some of the most impressive stuff I've seen... Okay, | think I've got 
this. No puzzles, no games; just wires now." She swallowed dry, 
"Wires set to blow, but still..." 


"Okay. | think we've got it. Row H-Gamma-seven?" 
"Connected three ways, cross porting. Red to Alfa-Epsilon." 
"Cut it.” 


The agent flicked her cutters with second-natured dexterity. The 
system shut down, the drawers slid open. She got out the 
containment vessels as Yorston lifted them out of their slots. The 
alarm sounded. 


"Go! Go! We gotta go!" The teams navigated through the maze 
again. A display over the vault door showed a countdown. "We got 
one minute!" 


Two of team Bravo set new charges, blew blowing the door before 
the failsafe activated. They pulled the dismantled vault's door from 
its groove, discovering two Foundation Armed Personnel stationed 


at the opening. 


"Give it up, Zev. It's over now." 


Zev kept his gun on the agent. "Nothing is over. | will not suffer this 
embarrassment." 


"Drop the gun, and put your hands behind your head." Roman 
turned his gun on Voss. "What, do you think this is a negotiation?" 


Watts approached behind, "Roman! Stop! You're under arrest!" 
Roman didn't take his eyes off Zev. "Rolff Romanovich. Stand down! 
You're not going to—" 


Bang. Bang. 


Voss's body dropped to the floor, with Roman following suit. Zev's 
pistol smoked as two operatives grabbed him, detaining and 
handcuffing. He spat on the body as they escorted him through. 


Jenna rushed to the two on the ground. Voss called for her, "Watts!" 
"It—it was you... wasn't it?” 


Voss chuckled; blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. "I'd 
always wondered what you looked like." She brushed the hair from 
Jenna's face, "You did well." 


She watched the light leave her eyes as Yorston met up with them. 
"God... Dunn's gonna kill us." He stepped over to Romanovich. 
"Another agent down..." 


"He was GRU. The assassin Control was looking for. She's our 
downed agent..." She stared up at Yorston. "Why did this happen? 
How do you know when you're too deep?" 


"You only know when you're gone..." He helped her lift THIEF's 
body. "We got 'em. At least..." he saw looked out to the SCP 
Containment vessels leaving, "at least we got 'em." 


Brother's Keeper 


It was ironic, in a way. In a CK-event or NK-event extinction 
scenario, all SCPs that could be terminated were to be terminated, 
so that whatever shreds remained of humanity could have at least a 
glimmer of chance of surviving in the ruined world. 


In a XK-event, all SCPs were set free, so that they might carry 
humanity's last seeds to whatever wonderlands they would flee to. 


A suitcase slammed on the floor next to SCP-073. "Heads up, Cain. 
You are free, on one condition. Take the suitcase with you. When 
you see the sun again, open it." 


Cain shook his head, sitting in lotus position, eyes still closed. He 
nodded towards the patterns drawn in blood, covering the walls of 
his room. "| am sorry, but | shall be staying. Chances to die like this 
only come once... well, in a lifetime. | will not be left behind this 
time." 


The researcher sat in front of him with a heavy sigh and lit a 
cigarette, his disability making it a long and elaborate procedure. 
"Suit yourself. Damn, | should've never taken up smoking.” 


"Losing hope? | guess | should commend you for keeping it this 
long." 


"Fuck you." 


Cain frowned. "I mean it. For what it's worth, | am honestly sorry for 
what is happening.” 


"What, you telling me the apocalypse is your doing?" 


"Not quite, but I've dealt with it before. And every island fled away, 
and the mountains were not found, and the third part of the 
creatures that had life died." Cain vaguely gestured with his metal 


arms. 


"So we're fucking biblical now and you're the Cain that killed his 
brother?" The researcher chuckled. "I don't think that took." 


"No, | am not. At least, not quite." A weary laugh. "Very well. | swore 
to take this secret to the grave, but there are more than enough 
graves now. The job your Foundation does - that it did until now? | 
have done something similar in the past." 


"The past. How far past we are talking about? Before the Beatles?" 


"Before music. We had a good group, back then. Yweh, me, Hevel, 
Lilit, Bright - not your Bright, I'm afraid - Orion, Sela... More, much 
more, but the others are gone. Even their names, when we failed." 


"And you guys just lived for the next n-th millenia and waited for 
someone to invent television?" 


"Only the cursed. Only us that went too far and too deep, and were 
branded for it. No, | didn't kill Able. But | might as well have." 


The researcher sneered, lighting a second cigarette. "Could have 
shared a bit more with us before this sort of schedule pressure, 
chief." 


"One copy of the 'Containment Procedures' in every hotel of 
America is not enough?" 


"Something may have been lost in the translation." 


Cain sighed. "Ten millenia is a long time, child. Even ideas decay. 
No, you have done a much better job than we have. You have even 
managed to keep that accursed lizard caged for more than a week." 


"Not good enough." 


"It is not the end, you know. It was not the end before." He touched 
his brand. "And the storm will face more than seven thirds, this 
time." 


"I'd really prefer to see for myself.” 


Cain opened his eyes. "Would you? Would you be cursed? Would 
you have life itself flee you at every step?" 


The researcher leaned up, inches away from Cain's face. "If it saves 
one life. If it lets one more human be born." 


SCP-073 paused for a moment, then laughed. "Yes. That is what | 
said, then." He stood up. "Shall we, Dr. Kain?" 


The dog got up and spat his cigarette. "After you... Senior 
Researcher Cain." 


Budget Cuts 


It was a gloomy day at Site-19. 


“They just cut our funding again,” Dr. Bergstrom said, speaking 
around a mouthful of Salisbury steak. “I’m down to two assistants.” 


“| hear you, man,” Agent Rourke said with a sigh. “My team’s getting 
evaluated by Director Daniels tomorrow. | just know he’s gonna 
disband us. I'll probably end up working a fucking desk job.” 


Dr. Wynne, carrying a tray of food, came over and sat down at their 
cafeteria table. 


“This fucking place,” she spat. “They just told us they’re gonna be 
transferring half the staff in our department to other Sites. Said 
they’re trying to ‘trim the fat’. | swear, I'm in the wrong business. | 
bet GOC scientists don't have to put up with this kind of shit." 


Dr. Bergstrom shook his head. “Yeah, working for the Foundation 
really isn’t what it used to be. Did | tell you they even took away our 
entire D-class allowance? We’re having to test anomalies on 
animals now!” 


“Same here,” Agent Rourke said. “We used to get ‘em for use in 
high-risk explorations, but then they just stopped sending them 
over.” 


Dr. Wynne nodded. “Us too. Apparently it's like that everywhere, not 
just Site-19. They're saying we’re gonna have to make do without D- 
class from now on.” 


“Huh,” Dr. Bergstrom said, frowning. “| wonder what that’s about.” 
“Who knows?” Agent Rourke said with a shrug. 


For a while the three of them ate in silence. 


"Well, at least meat's back on the menu,” Dr. Bergstrom said at last. 


Bugbears 


Won Won was bored. Nothing about this hole in the wall interested 
him. The big gray box had always been here on top of this hill, and 
there had never been anything fun about it. But the others were so 
insistent, they almost convinced him this building might be fun. A 
few minutes more and he knew better. 


"Bored!" he cried out again, hoping to make it more plainly obvious. 


"Quiet, you," Teef growled, and the group went in. The air was 
immediately much more pleasant, and artificial lights came on in the 
room. 


"What is?" Won Won glared at the other four. Teef, his friend, Won 
Ji, his own sister, X51 and Jorry, the other two he didn't really know 
and didn't care about. 


"Now we are indoors," Teef replied, opening the door he had closed 
behind them. It no longer led out onto the grasslands, but to a 
narrow little room with stairs descending elsewhere. 


"What is?" Won Won peered in to the stairwell. Teef nudged him 
forward and Won Won went down the stairs, his foot-claws clickety- 
clacking on the hard surface. No grass, and not wood. It felt like 
rock, but it wasn't bumpy enough to be rock. 


The door at the bottom of the stairs opened into another big room 
with even more doors. Short land mammals were standing around in 
there. Won Won loved little land mammals, but these had a 
significant lack of fur. Staring more intently, he realized they looked 
like Skybound. But they were much too short, and wore non-metal 
clothing. 


Won Won stepped up to one with skin the color of his own fur. The 
little one turned to him and started to speak in incoherent Skybound