Valentine's eyes opened: the sclera of her eyes were red from 
ruptured blood vessels, and her speech was slurred. "Lieu... loo..." 
The older woman coughed up blood. "Got away... hit the sprayers 
but he got out of containment... he could be anywhere by now. 
Damn... stupid of me. | didn't... thought | had him in check... Hit the 
ground hard, feel bad..." She slumped forward. Her entire back was 
covered in blood, and there seemed to be a large welt forming on 
the back of her head. 


"Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck... Thomas, help me get her on the 
ground. We gotta immobilize her head." 


"Think it's a concussion?" 


"Concussion, contusions, aneurysm, whatever it is, this bitch hit her 
head hard." The two of them laid Valentine down on her back. 
Takahashi tabbed her communicator. "This is Delta-Nine to Site 
Control, we have a man down, request immediate medical 
assistance." 


"Delta Nine, be advised that we are currently in the middle of..." 


"| Know you're having a Kondraki Moment, you asshole, but you can 
spare a couple of stretcher bearers to take one woman to the 
infirmary! Takahashi out!" 


"Lieutenant!" A taller man was running towards them, huffing and 
puffing under the weight of several large nylon bags. He was closely 
followed by two paramedics, carrying a backboard, neck-brace and 
trauma kit. 


"Roybal! Thank God you're here! What's the situation?" 


"The situation is fucked. Casualties are in double digits already. 
Someone let the goddamn Sharpie Ball out of its container and it 
rolled over an entire Task Force." He tossed one of the bags to the 
ground. "We're not gonna be getting any backup.” 


"Well, if it's just us, then we'll be just fine." Takahashi said. She 


of material. X-rays do not show its form and tests to determine 
conductivity have returned no results. Sonar remains the sole 
effective imaging technique. Attempts to obtain a sample of 
SCP-766 using diamond-tipped drills resulted in broken machinery. 


All elements of SCP-766 are solid and immobile. This extends to its 
"hair", and agents should be mindful to avoid puncture wounds. The 
use of on-site safety equipment, though not mandatory, is strongly 
recommended. Attempts to relocate SCP-766 have proven 
ineffective. The use of bulldozers and other heavy machinery to 
move it has been attempted, to no avail. 


Addendum 766-01: 


Time and resources providing, studies using the services of 
SCP-182 or any other mediums at the Foundation's disposal could 
provide fruitful results. Though other tests have turned up nothing, 
perhaps an intellect can be sensed using the talents of some of our 
other SCPs. 

-Dr 


-Request denied pending unforeseen allowances in extra resources. 


« SCP-765 | SCP-766 | SCP-767 » 


unzipped the bag and pulled out a large weapon, that looked rather 
like a science fiction raygun. "We're Feynman's Folly. We've trained 
for this scenario. This is what we do." 


"| see... and off the record, sir?" 


"Off the record? We're up against a former member of Omega-7 in 
the body of a Keter-Class SCP." Takahashi snapped an energy 
pack into her HERF gun. "We're fucked.” 


"Thought so," Roybal admitted. 


They'd been moving through the corridors of the darkened hallway 
for fifteen minutes when Chang raised his hand, signalling the others 
to stop. 


Takahashi saw it a moment later: a hulking mass coiled up in the 
corner like a pile of steel spaghetti, slowly throbbing rhythmically, as 
if to a slow, gentle breathing. A claw reached out and touched the 
wall, tearing through the plaster drywall and etching away at the 
steel underneath. Already, a portion of the steel seemed to throb 
and dissolve, melting into another tentacle that incorporated itself 
into the mass. 


She unslung her weapon slowly, gestured to the other three 
members of her strike team. Firing line. Standard formation. Fire on 
my mark. The four soldiers slowly raised their weapons towards the 
creature. 


"NOW" 


There was a low shriek, like a camera flash charging, except much, 
much louder, and then a loud crack of thunder as a blast of High 
Frequency Electromagnetic Radiation pulsed through the air, 
ionizing the atmosphere in its wake. Four pulses of crackling blue- 
white energy lanced into the mass of nanobots, tearing huge chunks 
out of the coiled steel tentacles. 


The monster let out a roar, and then it lunged, terrifyingly fast, 
crossing the thirty yards between it and the task force in a single 


leap. Chang went down first, crushed under the mass of steel, his 
broken body leaving a red smear as the thing rushed on, shrugging 
off HERF blast after HERF blast, the powerful energy pulses dealing 
damage, but not enough, not enough to stop the monster from 
forming a buzzing chainsaw out of one of its tentacles and using it to 
shear Vicks' hands off at the wrist before tearing into his guts, not 
fast enough to stop it from grabbing Roybal's ankle and pounding 
him against the ceiling until he stopped screaming and flailing and 
just made wet noises like a bag of cement, not enough to stop it 
from grabbing Takahashi around the throat and lifting her up into the 
air, choking the life out of the young woman. 


She felt her vision start to blur as her world began to go dark. 
Already, she could see the thing's nanomachines tearing the 
squad's weaponry apart, incorporating them into its own mass. As 
her vision swam and her consciousness left her, the last thing she 
heard was a voice, sneering and sinister, in her ear... 


| always told you you lacked subtlety and grace. 


Takahashi had enough presence of mind to realize what that 
meant... and to spend her last life's breath screaming in horror and 
dismay. 


The last sound she'd make as a living creature. 


Ten minutes later, the woman that Thomas and the two paramedics 
had brought to the infirmary opened her eyes. She pulled the IVs out 
of her arm, cutting off the flow of painkillers (such a pain to bypass 
the morphine) and got to her feet. 


One of the medics tried to stop her, but she ignored him, walking 
through the halls of the infirmary to the third floor, to the place where 
she was trying to go. She placed her hand over the doorknob, and a 
thin tendril of nanomachines emerged from the back of her head, 
from the carefully hidden plate that she had disguised as a portion of 
skull, despite the fact that the entire back of the skull had been 
scooped out and the contents removed. The nanomachines broke 
through the lock in moments, and the one who wore Valentine's 
body entered the Intensive Care Quarantine unit. 


It made its way to the back of the facility, to a small bed in the back, 
where a young woman lay slumbering. It placed its hands over her 
face, and the tendrils extended, penetrated the back of the neck, 
probed delicately around the connections. Yes, just as it suspected. 
The injuries could easily be healed. 


The medic was shouting now, grabbing a phone and calling for help: 
the cries annoyed it, so it lathed a portion of steel piping, part of the 
bedframe, into a crude spear and threw it into the medic's throat. 
One by one, its nanomachines relaced the broken neurons back into 
place, carefully repaired the damage to its loved one's brain. 


A few minutes later, Agent Beatrix Maddox opened her eyes for the 
first time in months. "What... who..." 


"It's me, B," Valentine's mouth whispered. "| came for you." 


There was a gentle cough, as Clef cleared his throat. The Assistant 
Director stepped over the fallen body of the paramedic and faced 
the couple - one in an old body newly repaired, the other in a new 
body not its own - and smiled. 


"Agent Andrews," he said. "How nice of you to drop by." 


Part 6: Escape 


The 784 Incident: Part 6: Escape 


Part 5: Breaking Point 


"You Can't Go Home Again" 


Eighteen Months Ago 
"So, if you'd let me finish my question?" 
"Mmmm? Sure, sure..." 


"Okay, here it is. Let's say that you've got a choice of two different 
prizes. One is an all-expenses paid, three month vacation in 
Europe." 


"Ooooh, that sounds nice." 

"The other is ten minutes on the moon." 

"“Hmmmmmmmmm." 

"Which do you choose, and why?" 

"Okay, quick question. Can | take you with me?" 

"What? Mmmm... sure. Yeah, you can take one guest along." 
"Then it doesn't matter. Nothing matters as long as we're together." 
"... are you crying?" 

"Men don't cry. We just get things in our eyes." 


"Liar." 


There was a moment's hesitation. It was enough. 


Andrews-in-Valentine looked into the face of his own death, in the 
form of a HERF grenade held in the hand of the smiling Assistant 
Director. The object, a Foundation original, was a variation on the 
classic flash-bang grenade, specifically intended for use against 
electronic threats. Pull the pin, release the spoon, count to four, and 
a pulse of high frequency electromagnetic radiation would fire, 
destroying any circuitry more complex than a lightbulb and battery. 


Clef casually dangled the pin from his left finger as he held the 
grenade in his right hand, spoon still pressed inwards. Andrews 
lowered the second spear he had lathed from Maddox's bed frame. 
The point of the weapon gently touched the bloody tile floor, where 
the paramedic's blood slowly flowed towards him. 


"You know," Clef said, idly, "| always suspected that this entire 
facility was built on a slight slant. It always did make me feel off- 
balance." 


"Are you going to kill us?" Maddox whispered. She was resting her 
head on Andrews' shoulder, body still weak from her long months 
spent comatose. A few bedsores were visible on her back, the open 
hospital gown framing the angry red friction uclers on her skin. 


"Well, that depends,” Clef said. "I've already got two containment 
breaches in progress. One involves your old friend the 
nanomachines, and that's bad. The other involves Kondraki, and 
that's really bad. So, taking a look at things from a "big picture" 
perspective, two agents walking out of a half-destroyed facility and 
never being seen again... that sounds like something that | could 
prioritize later." He sighed. "Especially since this grenade has a four- 
second fuse. There's a lot that Andrews could do to me in those four 
seconds. It would end in him... and you... dying painfully when the 
EMP fries those clever little connections between your brain and 
body. It would be a horrible death, laying there still able to think, but 
unable to breathe, unable to make your heart beat. Probably one of 
the worst." 


"So we have a deal?" 


"No," Clef admitted. "But I'm willing to walk right out the door right 
now and live to see another day." 


"You won't have any trouble from me," Andrews said. "I'm not 
planning on keeping these damn bugs any longer than | need to. 
The moment that B's cured, I'll be pouring the rest into a jar and 
sticking it in the microwave." 


"Suit yourself," Clef said. The assistant director turned and walked 
out of the room, casually stepping over the bloody body of the slain 
paramedic. "It's not really my concern any more." 


On the way over to help deal with the mess Kondraki was making, 
he ran into the erstwhile Director Valentine, who was slaughtering a 
lot of hapless researchers, using the severed spine of Lieutenant 
Takahashi as a bludgeon. Clef casually popped the spoon of the 
EMP grenade and rolled it down the hallway. It popped, and the 
nanomachine colony that had been SCP-784 dissolved into inert 
slime. 


He nudged the sludge pile with his toe until he found Director 
Valentine's brain, lifted it up out of the pile. Andrews, he had to 
admit, did some good work. The brain had been neatly severed from 
the spinal cord, the connections to the nanomachine colony made 
so cleanly that it was almost identical to Andrews’ own connections. 
Not bad for someone with no medical expertise at all. 


He wondered if some of the neurons still fired, weakly, even now: it 
wasn't necessarily clear what kinds of changes the nanomachines 
made to the actual brain structure when it replaced the glial cells. He 
wondered whether Valentine would feel her mind go if it were 
damaged, or whether she was already gone and dead. 


Just to be sure, he carried the brain with him (pulling off bits and 
pieces and throwing them away like a child pulling petals off a 
flower) as he walked to the area where Kondraki was, currently, 
riding SCP-682 like a pony. He felt much better by the time he found 
out where the Ball of Sharp had ended up. 


It was, all in all, a good day. 


"So, any reason why Italy?" 


"Mmmmm... | was just thinking. About that question | asked you last 
year." 


"The one about the Moon and Europe?" 


"Yeah, that one. It just seemed to me... | can't give you the moon. 
But | can at least give you Tuscany." 


"That sounds wonderful. Wine, food, and music..." 
"You sure you want to spend it with me?" 


"It's gonna be a bit weird, I'll admit, but... it's still you under there, 
right?" 


"As much as | can tell, yes." 

"Then, remember what | said? Nothing else matters..." 
"... aS long as we're together." 

"And nothing's changed that at all." 

"... are you crying?" 

"Yeah, | guess | am." 

"| thought that men never cry." 

"First time for everything.” 


Part 7: Conclusion 


The 784 Incident: Part 7: Conclusion 


Part 6: Escape 


"Ever Dance With the Devil in 
the Pale Moonlight?" 


"Delta One, in position." 
"Delta Two, in position." 
"Delta Three, in position." 


"Delta Six. Go." 


Beatrix Maddox sat on the lakeshore with her shoes off, letting the 
cool water flow over her bare feet, as she smiled and waited for 
Andrews to arrive with the picnic basket. He was bringing wine, 
cheese, and olives, and this delicious bread from the bakery down 
the street. 


Italy was everything that she had ever imagined. The food, the wine, 
the music, the nights spent with her lover, the days spent exploring 
the gorgeous Mediterranean countryside. It was everything that 
Andrews... that Andrea... had promised and more. 


She couldn't have cared if they'd spent the time in a quiet farmhouse 
in Kansas, or a New York City apartment. For her, all that mattered 
was that they were together. 


It was her last thought before the .22 caliber round hit her between 
the eyes. She slumped over onto her side, her blood pooling under 
her, staining the wood dark red. 


"Delta One, target neutralized." 
"Delta Two, confirm." 

"Delta Three, engaging target." 
"Delta One, moving to support." 


"Negative, Delta One, Delta Three. Delta Six will handle this one 
personally." 


"You fucking bastard,” Andrews whispered. He... she... spat a tooth 
out, dislodged from where Delta Six had clipped her with the butt of 
his pistol. "You fucking bastard. You promised." 


"| did? | don't recall saying anything of the sort. Only that it wasn't 
my concern at the time." Delta Six, also known as Assistant Director 
Clef, smiled... he always smiled... as he rifled through Maddox's 
purse, pulling out her wallet, taking the cash, and tossing the rest 
into the lake. "It is now." 


"You fucking bastard! You asshole! We wouldn't have talked! We 
just wanted... we just wanted to be left alone, why couldn't you let 
us at least have that!" 


"Because, my friends, you can't just be left alone." Clef said, calmly. 
"You were involved. And you can't get uninvolved." He laughed. "| 
mean, what the hell would our world come to if people could just... 
quit? Who the fuck would keep doing this job? Psychos and 
assholes, that's who." 


"And which are you?" Andrews sneered.