Except if you asked Sullivan. He had been mulling over what Fran 
had told him before they entered the Isles, and it was getting to him. 
Well, if was being honest, it was changing the way he saw his life. 
All these years he had pilfered, stolen and taken what didn't belong 
to him and left terrible voids in people's lives for the sake of his 
comfort. Was he really all that different from Fuller, just because he 
stole relics instead of people? He could easily justify himself that 
way, certainly, but actually spending time with those Circus people 
on his ship had brought him a new perspective. He had no idea what 
life was about, but he knew it wasn't about owning things. And with 
the Circus’ new show coming up, he had a chance to prove that. 


He bought a ticket and sneaked into the section where he knew 
Fran, Luana and the other performers got ready for their respective 
shows. He carefully knocked on the door and prayed they would 
understand. The door was opened by Luana. 


"Hi. It's me, the Sea Bitch," remembered Sullivan without malice. 
"Can | speak to Fran and the others?" 


Luana made a "please wait" gesture. The performers quickly 
appeared, seeming more curious than apprehensive. 


"Hi there, Sullivan. Care for a cup of tea? The show only starts in 30 
minutes," offered Uriel Fishbones. 


"Um, sure. But listen everyone, there is something very important | 
have to tell you all. It's about that thing we brought from the 
Whispering Isles." 


"What is matter? It hasn't caused any problems to us. It's downright 
friendly,” assured Uriel. 


"Hold up. Are you telling us...you telling us...that there is something 
fishy going on with it?" joked Motormouth. A nearby gnome faked a 
heart attack at his horrible pun. 


Sullivan pinched his nose and groaned. "Not exactly. Look, there is 
no easy to say this. We have to bring it back." 


A "WHAT" came out in unison, with the exception of Fran. 


"Why aren't you disagreeing? You aren't seriously thinking of helping 
him, are you? You are far too old for that, you know, and so am I." 
said Uriel. 


"Lam. Mr. Sullivan is finally understanding what I've been trying to 
teach him," smiled Fran. 


"What the hell is she talking about? Returning stolen property might 
be right, but it never got me anywhere in life!" protested 
Motormouth. 


"Guys, listen! Aren't all of you here because, at some point, you lost 
your way? And you had to make do with a home and family that 
wasn't your own? For some of you it worked, for others it didn't. That 
creature out there, it...it tried to befriend on the Isle. It's innocent, 
and we are keeping it here against its will. Doesn't that sound 
familiar? We have a chance to free someone from the Circus. We 


can either take that chance, or do nothing and be accomplices of 
Fuller. So, will you help me or not?" 


Slowly but surely, each performer rose up, promised to help and 
shook hands. But Motormouth, as always, had to pipe up. 


"What are the odds that it will go on a rampage, grab one of us and 
climb the Empire State Building?" 


"These odds don't matter! Now listen closely, everyone. Here is the 
plan..." 


Shortly after the ringmaster announced the leviathan and the 
creature was let out of its water tank, the performers stormed the 
stage and began undoing its shackles with the help of some 
Sullivan's cursed relics. The leviathan stood there, feeling a mixture 
of fright, anger and confusion. The captain tried to calm it down as 
the performers tried to convince the audience it was all part of the 
show. Fuller had been watching this through the cameras and felt 
bile rising up in his throat and his jugulars trembling. He grabbed his 
sword-cane and pistol, invaded the show and the pointed his 
weapons at Sullivan. 


"Nice try. Did you really think anyone or anything in this Circus gets 
to leave without my say so? You should apply for a job as one of my 
clowns, you're really funny!" 


Fuller kept his blade pointed at the captain, while his pistol was 
pointed at the creature. "That goes especially for that thing! | spent a 
lot of money on it, and these here shackles are meant to stay on! 
You want to know why? Because | OWN every last one of you!" 


The leviathan's only reply was to take advantage of Fuller's 
monologue and sneak a long limb behind him. Fuller was smacked 
all the way into the water tank, where he met several of hungry sea 
lifeforms that had split off from the leviathan. The creature stared at 
the water tank with its glowing eye, and all the lifeforms ripped away 
Fuller's clothes. The humiliation didn't stop there, as the leviathan 
raised the slaver from the water tank, and several clowns began 
throwing pies at him instead of each other. Finally, the creature 


secreted glue from one its flabby hands and attached the naked and 
slimy Fuller to an elephant, then picked up a nearby torch to set the 
elephant tail on fire. The poor animal went bouncing wildly out of the 
tent, with Fuller begging for mercy and the audience laughing like 
never before. The leviathan took this opportunity to slink back into 
the ocean, but not before patting Sullivan on the head. 


Fuller's pockets grew three sizes that day, but Sullivan's heart grew 
too big for the oceans. 


Pushing through the market square, so many mothers 
sighing. News had just come over, we had five years left 
to cry in. 


The FSF Delivery weaved through the planetary debris field in 
Marjorie's practiced hands. The ship burned hard to the right and a 
body, spinning end over end, passed harmlessly. Marjorie muttered 
and eased back the throttle, bringing the ship to a stop among the 
ruins of the dead world. She activated the point defense systems 
before standing up and removing her interface helmet. 


The ship's cockpit was lit dim green and yellow by the various 
readouts and screens. She reached over to the keyboard on the left 
side and typed a command to activate the comms system. While 
she was typing she leaned out a bit further and tried to see if she 
could look back and see the body. Unfortunately all she could see 
was more rubble. 


She pulled the phone off the receiver and waited for the long beep. 
"Captain Sarridge," she started, "We're about 15 clicks off the signal, 
if you wanna come up here." 


A long silence followed before a man's voice broke it. "Uh. Yeah, 
one second." 


Marjorie rolled her eyes. "Alex can come too. Might be more bodies 
for her to examine." 


The pause after that was shorter before a woman's voice said, "Love 
you too, Marj." 


Marjorie smirked. "Y'all get dressed and get up here. We've got work 
to do." 


"Are we any closer to figuring out what happened?" The captain 
looked down at the readouts and grimaced. 


Marjorie shook her head. "Whatever did this, it likely happened in 
the last couple hundred years. Orbital models ain't reliable that far 
back." 


Alex put her hand out on the table and tapped the readout in front of 
her. "It could be longer. The models for organic decay in vacuum 
assume stellar body radiation. There's no star here, so these 
corpses could be much older than that. A few thousand years, 
even." 


The captain tilted his head to the side. "The life in this system 
would've needed a star to survive. We have to assume it got ejected 
from the system by whatever did this." 


"Then it ain't a fusion candle either," Marjorie interjected. "Tidal 
forces destroyed the planet, but a gas giant's not big enough to eject 
a star." 


Alex nodded. "No stars in the immediate area have the right 
trajectories to do this either. | have a lot of theories on this, but 
honestly, who knows?" 


"They know." The captain said it with a sense of finality. Everyone 
looked at the large screen at the center of the console. An imposing 
box periodically pulsed with a radio signal. 


The FSF Delivery floated about 60 meters away from the entrance. 
The mechanic was the only one left on board at the moment. 
Marjorie, Alex, and the Captain examined the door of a gently 
spinning metal building with flashlights. The three of them felt 
around the entrance for any activating mechanism before Marjorie 
came in over the suit radio. 


"Looks like we get to cut it open." 


The captain pulled his plasma lash from the scabbard on his left hip 
and pressed a button on the side. The three of them winced for a 
moment as a brilliant blue light came out of the device. The captain 
pressed it into the door and began the process of cutting through. 


Gases began to leak from the inside of the door and Alex reached 
out with a gathering tool to gather what she could when the remains 
of the door shifted and shot out into space. 


Marjorie pursed her lips. "Is full pressure good or bad?" 


"I, uh," Alex paused, "I don't know. Probably bad if it wasn't a sterile 
environment in there." 


The captain put his cutter back in its scabbard and looked inside. 
The corridor was built for something about two heads taller than 
Captain Sarridge and a head taller than Marjorie. Their flashlights 
illuminated a reddish gray metal which appeared to cover the entire 
hallway. Various etched symbols and patterns differentiated the floor 
and ceiling from the two walls. 


It took them 10 minutes to get to the center of the object, passing by 
several desiccated corpses along the way. Alex stopped twice to 
take samples and pictures. Eventually, the three of them came to 
the center of the object, with Marjorie entering the room first. 


After several seconds she called out over the radio. "It's clear, 
Captain." 


Captain Sarridge and Alex entered the room to see Marjorie with her 
hand from the plasma lash at her hip. 


The Captain chuckled. "Nothing but ghosts here." 


Marjorie smiled back. "Remember Lambda 98? Ghosts's 
dangerous." 


Alex stepped towards the console at the center of the room. The 
computer screens remained dark as she approached. "Orders, sir?" 


Captain Sarridge looked down at the console. There were no 
obvious buttons, switches, or keyboard-like interfaces, just screens 
around the central pillar. "Go ahead and see if you can..." 


The captain was interrupted as the entire facility lit up with a light red 
hue. The screens suddenly turned on as well and a voice no one 


recognized spoke over the radio. "Hello, wanderers. Do not be 
alarmed. | have learned your language from your ship's database 
and your radio signals." 


Captain Sarridge sighed. "Hello. Who are you?" 


The voice answered immediately. "| am what remains of these 
people. | was built to help those who would come after avoid the 
destruction we faced." 


"Can you explain this technology to us?" 
"| cannot. | serve a singular purpose. To warn of the destroyer." 


Alex stepped forward to stand abreast with Captain Sarridge. "Why 
did it destroy you?" 


"For centuries we carelessly screamed into the void. Never did we 
receive a reply. We believed we were alone until it answered us. It 
wished to sleep, and our signals had caused it to stir." 


Alex grimaced slightly. "What happened?" 


"Destruction. We must warn you against looking to the stars further 
or it will find you. It is not enough that you do not venture forth 
further. You must keep your eyes to the ground." 


Marjorie lightly brushed the handle of her plasma lash during the 
pause. "What's this thing y'all're so afraid of?" 


The three of them stepped back as the dozens of screens showed 
the same image. 


Flamingos 


Note: The following audio transcripts were recovered from an audio 
listening device found installed inside the home telephone of Arthur 
Windsworth during the recovery operation of SCP-1507. The origin 
of the listening device is currently unknown; investigation is ongoing. 


"Hello? Are you there?" 


"Hello, this is 911. What is the nature of your emergency?" 


"Someone's gone and put flamingos all over my lawn! | don't know 
how they got there, but they're there and | want them gone." 


"May | have your name and address please?" 


"Arthur. Arthur Windsworth. | live at.... uhh.... well it's on 9th street. 
In Shady Oaks. I'm sure | can give the police officers directions if 
you would just patch me through. These birds need to be gotten rid 
of | tell you!" 


"Are you able to tell me the condition of the birds? Do they appear to 
be injured?" 


"Injured? What? No, no. You don't understand. They're not rea/ 
birds. 


"Not real?" 


"Fake! Plastic birds, big great pink plastic flamingos cluttering up my 
lawn. Someone's put them there and | want them gone." 


"Sir, that's not exactly considered an emergency. The 911 hotline is 
reserved for use in emergencies." 


"Well | am ever so sorry, but could you at least send someone 
down? I'm too o/d to be messing about in the yard trying to get ata 


Recorded objects found in SCP-848-2 have included: 


* Various flying insects typical to that of SCP-848-1's natural 

habit. To date, over 300 recorded species of flies, moths, and 

other insects have been logged. 

Various flying insects that only exist in regions of the world 

where SCP-848-1 is not known to populate, including exotic 

deep rainforest insects. 

Various kinds of scraps of inanimate objects, including paper 

and plant detritus. 

Several species of flying insects not known to modern 

science. 

¢ Several unidentified organisms that quickly asphyxiated when 
exposed to oxygen, and may not be terrestrial in origin. 

¢ [DATA EXPUNGED] 

¢ [DATA EXPUNGED] 


Anomalous objects will appear on SCP-848-2 despite having no 
plausible explanation for their origin, leading to the belief that 
SCP-848-2 is able to 'catch' objects from extraterrestrial or 
extradimensional locations. SCP-848-1 is able to feed on most 
insects found on SCP-848-2, and thus does not need to be regularly 
fed. 


Addendum 848-01: Log of Notable Recovered Objects 


Date: / / 

Details: An unidentified insect appeared on SCP-848-2. The insect 
appeared to have twelve (12) legs, as well as an organ that could 
only be described as a" ". Specimen destroyed as a 
precaution. 


Date: / / 

Details: A flying insect resembling a terrestrial dragonfly with a 
wingspan of nearly 1 m, believed to have become extinct 
approximately 150 million years ago. Caused significant damage to 
SCP-848-2 before being neutralized by SCP-848-1's venom. 
SCP-848-1 later repaired the damage to SCP-848-2 without 
incident. 


Date: // 


bunch of birds that some hoodlums put in my yard." 


"Well Mr. Windsworth, I'll see what | can do. In the future, if you 
have any more problems with 'hoodlums' please contact the police 
department directly to file a report." 


"Well... L.... alright." 
"Goodbye, Mr. Windsworth." 


"What? Oh. Yes. Goodbye." 


"Hello?" 
"Hello, this is 911. What is the nature of your emergency?" 


"Oh. Yes. Well you see, | called earlier about some flamingos. | just 
wanted to let you all know that you don't need to send anyone down. 
As it turns out, they're actually quite friendly. I've named one of them 
Dave. He's really very nice." 


"Are you referring to the plastic flamingos that were in your yard Mr. 
Windsworth?" 


"Oh. Right. Well | suppose they weren't quite as plastic as | had 
thought. Maybe they're only partly plastic." 


"Well Mr. Windsworth, I've already filed the report, but I'll let them 
know. Good day Mr. Windsworth." 


"Oh thank you. Oh, and umm.... Good day to you as well. | suppose. 
Yes. A good day indeed." 

"911. What's your 'mergency?" 

"The birds! The birds are attacking me!" 

"What birds?" 


"The birds in my yard!" 


"Mr. Windsworth, flamingos don't attack people." 


"But they did! Someone put them there, don't you see? First they 
were plastic, now they're attacking me!" 


"That's what I'm trying to tell you Mr. Windsworth, flamingos don't 
attack people. Especially not plastic flamingos."