Foreword: Konstantyn T , an Efreitor of the th 
Security and Containment Battalion of the Psychotronics 
Division, is a survivor of Incident 0401-42-III. For his 
actions during the Incident (and in respect to the 
Division's need for secrecy), T , a Private at the time, 
was promoted to Efreitor and awarded with the 
Honoured Blood Donor of the USSR medal for his 
wounds sustained in the containment of Object 0401-42. 
The following document is a transcript of an interview 
with Efr. T , conducted by GRU-P psychiatrist and 
researcher Dr. Gennady Vortikovic. The Doctor had been 
giving the Efreitor treatment for third-degree radiation 
burns and psychiatric care prior to this interview, and as 
such, did not express desire to press Efr. T for 
information if he appeared uncomfortable. 


The transcript of this report was taken just days before 
T 's demise (see Document 0401-42-4, Report 0791) 
at the hands of what is believed to be Object 0401-42. 


Date recorded: 1 /0/198 
< BEGIN LOG > 


Dr. Vortikovic: Zdravstvuyte, Efreitor. Please, 
be seated; this won't take long at all. | hope 
you traveled well? 


Efr. T Zdravstvuyte to you as well, 
Doctor. 
Efr. T sits, slouching back in the chair, 


appearing tired. 


Efr. T : Yes, | traveled well, thank you for 
asking. | felt confident enough to drive here on 
my own today. 


Dr. Vortikovic: I'm glad to hear that. | take it 
the treatment is working, then? 


Efr. T It seems to be, Doctor. Thank you 
for your help. 


Dr. Vortikovic: It's what | do, Efreitor. Now, 
with all due respect, we aren't here to discuss 
follow-up dates for our sessions. We're here to 
discuss the incident that occurred on the date 
of the 26th of April. 


Efr. T : Of course, Doctor...where would 
you like me to start? 


Dr. Vortikovic: From the beginning, 
Konstantyn. We have all day, as is per usual. 
Feel free to take as much time as you need. 


Efr. T : Thank you, Doctor. 


i iom f sighs, remaining silent for a few 
moments. 


Efr. T : What |, and my squadmates, saw 
that day...it's beyond explanation. | was, and 
still am, a young man, but by the end of that 
day | felt like I'd aged two decades. | didn't 
know what that damned thing was, but if 
there's one thing | aid know, it's how the day 
was supposed to go, how everything was 
supposed to fall into place and by the end of 
the month we'd be rolling in the renewed 
funding, renewed contracts, renewed 
importance. It was supposed to be the rebirth 
of the Division's golden age, and instead, I'd 
dare say that this is going to be the Division's 
downfall. 


Dr. Vortikovic: Tell me about the experiment, 
Efreitor. Were you close to the initial testing 
site? 


Efr. T : No, and I'm thankful for that every 
day. Goodness, no. My squad was actually on 
patrol and security duty, making sure no 
civilians came within the designated area for 
testing and whatnot. We were about half of a 
klick away from the testing site, on a hill 
overlooking the plant where 0401-42-1 was 
located. There were seven of us - Serzhant 
Volokov, Mladshiy Serzhant Loginovsky, 
Efreitor Kostikov, and four Ryadovyye, those 
being me, Azarov, Benevich, and Ignatyev. It 
had been Azarov's birthday the day before, 
and he was still hung over that morning, 
though his eyes were as sharp as they always 
were. 


Our setup wasn't exactly designed for keeping 
people out, no, our first priority was to make 


sure that we weren't seen. We weren't dressed 
in regulation Soviet army uniforms, but 
because of our demeanor, our equipment, hell, 
the fact that we had rifles, it was fairly obvious 
that we were some kind of security personnel. 
Nobody could know that the Division existed, 
nobody could know that we were on that hill, 
so we provided overwatch. If someone came 
too far up into the hills, we were to "T-and-A" 
them, that being "tranquilize and administer 
amnestics". Not that they would come into the 
hills in the first place, of course, there was 
supposedly nothing out here except for woods. 
They knew that there was some kind of 
training exercise involving the — th, but nobody 
questioned it. It was peaceful, except for the 
One or two times that Azarov had to excuse 
himself in order to throw up. 


The day carried on a lot like that, we were all 
laying down in the thick, wet grass, our arms 
and legs aching from the awkward prone 
positions we had been holding for hours. | was 
on the second-highest hill, with Loginovsky 
and Azarov. Serzhant Volokov was with 
Kostikov on the highest hill, and Benevich and 
Ignatyev were positioned on the reverse 
slopes of both respective hills. Azarov kept 
getting up to vomit, and Loginovsky droned on 
and on into the walkie-talkie in that irritating, 
nasally voice of his. He kept whining about 
how bored he was, how he wished he could 
see that Vietnamese bitch squirm. 


Dr. Vortikovic: Did you know what they were 
doing to Object 0401-42? 


Efr. T : No, and at the time, | might not 
have given a damn. They were my superiors, 
they determined my payroll, and | wasn't about 


SCP-879: Colonial Cetacean 


Item #: SCP-879 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: Revised / /20 . Due to the 
successful capture of SCP-879, it is to be stored in a reinforced 
aquatic specimen tank measuring 30 x 20 x 10 meters on Site- . 
SCP-879 is to be kept in a chemically-induced coma via intravenous 
injection. It requires no nutrients outside of bi-weekly hydrogen 
sulfide injections. 


All tools that come in contact with SCP-879 are to be fully sterilized, 
so as to prevent accidental spread or exposure of the entity's 
pheromones. 


The former Site-55 and all specimens of SCP-879-2 contained 
therein are to be remotely observed by drones operated from the 
Foundation research ships Andromeda, Alcatraz, and Black Martin. 
A 20 km security perimeter is to be kept around Site-55 at all times. 


Description: SCP-879 is an oceanic mammal measuring 26 meters 
in length (85.3 feet), bearing a strong resemblance to the order 
Cetacea. The creature has smooth skin, which is primarily black with 
a white underbelly, and moves by means of a fluked tail and ten sets 
of flippers. The two foremost pairs are highly muscular, and are still 
used as rudimentary limbs during beaching. While SCP-879 is 
toothed, it also possesses a set of retractable baleen. 


SCP-879 exudes a powerful pheromone based in epidermal oils with 
severe mind-altering effects in humans over a range of 
approximately 100 meters, as well as the capability of further spread 
through physical contact. Those exposed to the pheromone will seek 
out SCP-879 with single-minded determination, ignoring all but the 
strongest of outside stimuli. Study of subjects’ brain chemistry 
indicates a state resembling sexual attraction. Upon encountering 


to spoil my next month over something as, 
what | considered, insignificant as some 
Vietnamese woman with supposed psionic 
powers. All | knew that day was that | was 
sitting on top of some remote, grassy knoll, 
overlooking a nuclear plant, sitting between an 
alcoholic and a man with a fly's buzz for a 
mouth, making sure that 0401-42's husband 
didn't come any further than a tenth of a klick 
from the exit of that building. What's funny is 
that, a bit before midday, one of the Division's 
vehicles, or hell, maybe it was one of the 

th's, | don't know, came roaring down the 
road, and within five minutes 0401-42-1 was 
being escorted out. Then, ten minutes later, | 
hear Loginovsky sigh with relief, and he tells 
me that we've been given the order to stand 
down and take a rest. |, and I'm fairly sure the 
rest of us in that squad, didn't know what the 
fuck was going on. 


Dr. Vortikovic: And then the incident 
occurred. 


Efr. T : Exactly. | wasn't there when the 
containment breach occurred, but based on 
the stories some of the other survivors have 
told me, | should be glad that | wasn't. It was 
shortly after we'd been given the order to 
stand down, we were maintaining contact with 
those at the test site. As it turns out, they had 
been having trouble in calming 0401-42 down; 
the experiments were working, to an extent 
that they didn't think success would reach. The 
clacks of rifle fire, the booms of artillery, the 
whistling hum of cargo jets flying overhead... 
the poor woman was in a blindfold, she must 
not have been able to tell if she was having a 
nightmare or not. She was whimpering, 
sobbing, shaking, and sparks were buzzing 


behind the blindfold. Evidently, it was feared 
that the sparks would get in her eyes and 
cause her even more pain than she was 
already writhing in, so the big mistake was 
made; the blindfold was taken off. 


Dr. Vortikovic: And what was that mistake? 


if speaks in a growling tone. You know 
damn well, Doctor. 


Dr. Vortikovic: Now now, don't get angry. 
Yes, of course | know, Konstantyn. We all 
were. But information for the log is information 
for the log, and it has to be recorded. 


T inaudibly grumbles for several moments 
before finally speaking again. 


Efr. T : It let her see just what was going 
on. Her fear and anxiety turned into a boiling 
hot rage, and reportedly, she lashed out at the 
security personnel, though not harming any of 
them. The Division researchers and scientists 
had already planned for that contingency, 
though their actual plan wasn't the best. 


Dr. Vortikovic: And what was that plan, 
Efreitor? 


Efr. T : They brought 0401-42-1 to the 
testing site, the idiots. What good could that 
possibly have served? Their entire idea was 
that his presence would tame her, calm her 
down, maybe even soothe her in her time of 
sorrow and trouble. Yes, because bringing a 
second Post-Traumatic Stressed war veteran 
to a live-fire drill would make things even 
better. He started flipping the fuck out too, 
crying, trying to cover his ears, but he was 
handcuffed and made to stand alongside his 


wife while the th kept on firing, fake- 
charging, rolling around in motor vehicles and 
tanks. My unit and | had no idea this was 
happening, we could only hear the booms, and 
the radioman on the other side was nowhere 
near the two, so we didn't hear any noise from 
them. Not immediately, at least. 


Dr. Vortikovic: But eventually? What 
happened? 


ie sighs. 


Efr. T : They fucking shot 0401-42-1. He 
wasn't being cooperative, you see, he kept 
tugging on 0401-42's arm, trying to get her out 
of there, because he knew it wasn't healthy for 
her. He didn't even care that it was giving him 
flashbacks, all he cared about was that the 
woman he loved was in discomfort, that poor 
fool. He made repeated pleas to be let go, to 
take his wife and be allowed to leave, and he 
was repeatedly denied. He was getting 
desperate, the personnel were becoming 
irritated, and 0401-42 was crying even harder 
than before. 


Finally, just before 1230 hours, there was a lull 
in security around the two when a group of 
security personnel heard some fucking rodent 
in the woods and thought it was an intruder, 
and 0401-42-1 tried to make a run for it with 
his wife. The radioman was the only one who 
noticed, and, while leaving his walkie on, 
confronted them. We could hear the sobbing of 
0401-42 and the desperate plea of 0401-42-1 
to be allowed to slip away, but the radioman 
popped him right there, just fucking blew him 
away with his Makarov. 


Dr. Vortikovic: And then? 


Efr. T : The line went dead, but we could 
hear what happened then. It was...probably 
the most terrifying thing I've heard in the 
entirety of my life. We were hundreds of 
meters from the testing site, on the top of a hill, 
with thick grass and trees and fucking gunfire 
and everything imaginable that could have 
drowned out that awful sound, but it still rang 
clear. 0401-42 wailed. What saddens and 
frightens me even more, is that you could 
detect the individual emotions in it; first, a high- 
pitched, shocked shriek, followed by a drawn 
out sob, which slowly morphed into the most 
bone-chilling, furious roar of a scream that | 
think is humanly possible. The gunfire had 
stopped as soon as the shriek began, but oh 
boy, did it begin again when that wail ended. 
Not for long, mind you; we couldn't see what 
was going on down there, but we could hear it. 


By now, the line had come back up, and the 
panicked sounds we could barely make out 
were suddenly blasting into our ears. There 
was ragged gunfire, confused shouting, 
yelling, screaming, the roar of revving engines, 
and most of all, the screams and wails of the 
infuriated psionic as she went absolutely 
fucking ballistic on that camp. The radioman 
was, by our best guess, dead, because we 
heard no-one speaking directly into the phone; 
rather, we heard sounds picked up in the 
background. 'What the fuck is that?’ someone 
yelled. ‘Shoot her! She's fucking psycho!’ 
someone else chimed in. We heard the 
creaking of metal and then a loud bang, seeing 
a sudden plume of flame and thick black 
smoke in the distance. Some panicking 
bastard screamed in the background, 'She 
blew up a tank! She just blew up the fucking 
tank!' Everything went quiet for a few minutes 


after that, and then, as you know... 


Dr. Vortikovic: All hell broke loose. 


T nods silently, remaining quiet for a few 
moments. 
Efr. T : Did | ever tell you about one of the 


other survivors | met, Doc? His story? 


Dr. Vortikovic: You haven't told me, no. That 
might make a good addition to the file. 


Efr. T : | met him just a few days ago, 
actually.D Vasiliev. He was a good guy, 
though the poor bastard was in a mental 
hospital when | found him. He was from the 

th, though he'd been approved for 
psychiatric leave immediately following the 
incident, and later he resigned outright. He told 
me his story over lunch, and his hand - or, at 
least, what remained of it, after half had been 
blown off by a friendly fire incident - was 
fidgeting the entire time. Vasiliev had been one 
of the ones in the immediate vicinity of 
0401-42 just as Azarov, Loginovsky, and | 
were listening and on the verge of shitting our 
pants with fear. We didn't hear everything that 
went on, and he didn't just hear it, he sawit. 


Dr. Vortikovic: What did he see, Konstantyn? 


Efr. T : Terrible things, based on what he 
told me, Doctor. Vasiliev said that, around the 
time everything had gone quiet for us, the 
shrieking and wailing had subsided into a 
constant, pained sob. 0401-42 was wandering 
around, hands clasped over its eyes, hunched 
over in apparent agony. Some idiot named 
Petrovsky had tried to get near her, to calm 
her down. Petrovsky had dropped his rifle, 


raised his hands, and approached her while 
looking at her face, trying to look into her eyes 
through her fingers. 


He had approached her slowly, and she was 
still, hands still covering her eyes, sparks flying 
from between her now scorched face and her 
palms, and she quieted down, to less than a 
whimper. Petrovsky thought he had calmed 
her down...and then vanished into a pink mist 
the second she moved her hands away and 
screamed at him again. There were no body 
parts, no flesh or blood, just a pink cloud as his 
weapon and helmet clattered to the ground 
between the boots that were formerly his. At 
that point, according to Vasiliev, everyone just 
started fucking running and shooting at 
anything that came close to them. It had been 
less than two minutes, but it felt like it'd been 
years. Loginovsky was white in the face, 
Azarov was sobered out of any remaining 
hangover that plagued him, and | could feel my 
legs tingling. 


Dr. Vortikovic: You wanted to run?