Anyone walking by the Department of Occult Studies (not that many 
people would after the incident with the walls growing mouths) would 
have heard quite a commotion in there. There were screams of 
confusion and panic, the sound of lab equipment being damaged, 
and a sound whose only onomatopoeia could be "magic!" 


Inside the lab, there was a scene to match the kerfuffle. Montgomery 
Reynolds was staring at his superior, Katherine Sinclair, or more 
specifically, her right arm. Where there had once been a large patch 
of burn scars and a lab coat sleeve was now a large, poofy patch of 
fur that sprung up so suddenly, it ripped through the fabric. 
"Katherine, what did you do?! Why is your arm furred?!" 


"I-| was trying some salve to h-hide the scars!" Sinclair flailed her 
furred limb around. "I think | put in too much octopus powder or s- 
something! Maybe i-it was the cattle blood?" Sinclair looked at 
Montgomery like she was about to cry "T-the audit is today! | don't 
want to lose my job!" 


Montgomery held up his hands in what he hoped was a calming 
manner. "Calm down, Katherine. There are some lab coats and 
gloves in the back. You change in the testing chamber, I'll distract 
him." Sinclair nodded, rushing to a lab cabinet and taking out a 
spare coat and gloves, before running into the test chamber. 
Montgomery paced back and forth, picking up shards of broken 
beakers and trying to mop up some of the liquid that had made 
Katherine into her current state. 


Exactly five seconds later, the door opened. A bald man wearing 
horn-rimmed sunglasses and wearing a suit stepped into the 
laboratory. Under one arm, he carried a tablet computer, and in the 
other, a stylus. Montgomery briefly wondered what this man's pay 
grade must be before the auditor spoke up, looking him over. "...Dr. 
Sinclair?" 


"Reynolds, actually. Montgomery Reynolds. Dr. Sinclair is in the 
testing chamber-" he nodded to the room off to the side- "cleaning 
up after an experiment we just ran." 


The man nodded, writing something on his tablet. "Very well. The 
audit will begin when Dr. Sinclair rejoins us." After a few more 
seconds, Sinclair emerged from the chamber, snapping on some 
gloves. "Dr. Katherine Sinclair?" asked the auditor in a voice that 
sounded like Microsoft Sam had developed Malcolm McDowell's 
accent. 


Katherine nodded, fidgeting with her hands. "Yes. Katherine Sinclair, 
Level 3, head of the Department of Theology's Occult Studies 
subdivision." She indicated Reynolds. "This is my assistant, 
Montgomery Reynolds. Theological and alchemical consultant." 


The auditor raised an eyebrow. "| am Matthew Broderick, and | will 
be your auditor today." 


".,.Broderick?" Asked Sinclair incredulously. "What, like the actor 
from Ferris Bueller?’ 


"No. Thank you." Broderick marked something down on his tablet, 
skimming a few pages. "The Occult Studies subdivision houses a 
large number of anomalous artifacts. Almost all of them are some 
form of document, it would seem." He looked up at them. "Show me 
these objects." 


Sinclair indicated a series of metal bookshelves on the wall, walking 
over to them with the auditor. "| assure you they're all quite stable; 
the more powerful ones tend to spontaneously combust so we don't 
learn their secrets. The only thing anomalous about them is their 
contents, and even then, only if the instructions are followed 
properly. And they're all properly tagged, as you can see." She 


talked far too fast as she indicated E-9111, a translated copy of the 
Voynich Manuscript, with the designation engraved clearly into the 
book's spine. Sinclair still cringed inside whenever she saw that; it 

ruined the value of the book immensely. 


Broderick the auditor inspected the books, looked at his sheet, and 
nodded, scribbling something down before turning to Montgomery. 
"Mr. Reynolds... do you have a title? Doctor, Researcher..." 


"Just Reynolds, sir." The somewhat portly man nodded at him 
politely. "Level 3 consultant, just like Ka- Dr. Sinclair said." 


"| see." He looked at his papers and frowned. "You are aware that 
consultants who are not Foundation employees must undergo 
amnestic therapy monthly, correct?" 


"lam." 


"You have not undergone this therapy since your consultation period 
began approximately two years ago, when you started work in the 
theology department. Why is this?" 


"Special exemption from the Director," Montgomery said promptly. 
"Approved by O5-8. I'm a native of NEXUS-97, and Nexus 
inhabitants get exemptions from amnestic administration while within 
the boundaries of one." 


Broderick frowned, his eyes narrowing into slits within the space of a 
picosecond. "The designation of this Nexus is NEXUS-18. What is 
NEXUS-97?" 


Montgomery flinched. "G-Green Pastures, lowa." Seemingly 
satisfied, the auditor backed off this line of questioning. Then, the 
words came out of his mouth that neither of them wanted to hear. 


"Now then. There is the matter of this "cow-gutting incident" that's 


rather infamous around the site..." 


One Hastily Explained Apology and Some Boring Budget Talk 
Later... 


The auditor sat at a workstation across from Sinclair and 
Montgomery, shaking his head as he flicked through his tablet. "This 
subdivision has not requisitioned any D-Class for the past 18 
months. Why is this?" 


Sinclair shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "We prefer to run the tests 
ourselves. D-Classes generally don't have magical experience, 
unless they were acquired from some kind of a cult, and even then, 
it's usually just show magic or prestidigitation. Pulling a rabbit out of 
a hat or a card trick something." 


"You could be severely injured. D-Class are expendable. Foundation 
personnel such as yourself are not." 


Dr. Sinclair resisted the urge to snort loudly. "Sir, the one time we 
had a D-Class perform a procedure, it resulted in the destruction of 
the item we were testing, as well as the drain cleaner we were using 
in the ritual becoming sapient-" 


"Yes, | have the report here," interjected the auditor. "Hardly an 
excuse." 


Montgomery stared at him, and spoke up this time. "Hardly an 
excuse? Sir, with all due respect, the item that was destroyed was a 
rare copy of the Libro della Vita written by Lorenzo Collodi, one of 
the few books of magic that is known to have spells that can create 
sapience. Do you have any idea how important that is?" 


"lam an auditor," replied Broderick in a distinctly bored tone. "| am 
here to audit, not to debate procedure." 


Dr. Sinclair rubbed her face with a gloved hand and sighed. "Mr. 
Broderick, who would you rather have meddle with the forces of the 
universe: a woman that's been studying this sort of thing since she 
was fifteen years old and has a doctorate in theology and theoretical 
physics, or a man with the 1.Q. of a salad spinner and antisocial 
personality disorder?" 


Broderick blinked, looking down at his tablet again. "It says you 
often employ sacrifices in rituals. Again, D-Class personnel are 
expendable, and cheap; if need be, local convicts can be recruited 


for such a procedure. Perhaps you could use them to-" 


"No!" Exclaimed both Sinclair and Reynolds at the same time, 
causing Broderick to flinch slightly. They looked at each other for a 
few seconds, before Sinclair sooke again. "Using human souls to 
power magic is an extremely bad idea. Doing that kind of thing 
attracts all sorts of supernatural trouble that the Foundation would 
rather not have." 


Broderick frowned as he came across a specific page on his tablet. 
"Dr. Sinclair, it says here that on June 8th of 2013, there was an 
incident. You suffered second-degree burns on your forearms as a 
result, and rather than using the fire extinguisher, Mr. Reynolds 
simply dumped a bucket of water on you before pulling the medic 
alarm. Is this correct?" 


Sinclair gulped. "W-well, yes, but-" 


"If you had followed proper testing and safety procedures, the entire 
incident could have been avoided." He looked towards Monty. "If a 
D-Class had been requisitioned to perform the test, there would 
have been no risk of Dr. Sinclair being injured." To Katherine, now. 
"If Mr. Reynolds had used the provided fire extinguisher instead of 
dousing you with water, then the test chamber could have been 
cleaned more easily, as it was already damaged from flooding 
earlier the same day. And if-" 


Before Broderick could say anything else, Sinclair slammed the 
table and pulled up the right sleeve of her lab coat, exposing her 
anomalously hairy arm. She parted the fur and exposed three 
words, burnt onto the skin underneath the fur. "Non Contenti Sumus. 
We are not content. The entire reason the ritual went wrong was 
because we aren't allowed to use live animals." Dr. Sinclair was 
shaking, trying to maintain her composure; Montgomery had his 
hand on her shoulder, wisely standing a few steps back. "This is 
how magic is treated in the Foundation, Broderick. We aren't taken 
seriously, and as a result, | got hurt. If Director Weiss had allowed 
us to use a live animal in the ritual, | would not have these scars 
right now." 


Broderick seemed taken aback for a few seconds, before frowning 


center. 


Subject: SCP-261 

Photographed Activity: Sitting alone in its hallway. 

Photo Result: The hallway is full of yen coins, to a depth of 
approximately 160 cm; the upper portion of SCP-261 is visible. 


Subject: SCP-312 

Photographed Activity: Floating in its containment chamber. 
Photo Result: Photograph appears to be a unidentifiable location 
somewhat similar to the surface of Mars with nine (9) more 
instances of SCP-312 in the photo. 

Notes: This may indicate that SCP-312 may not be a terrestrial 
species. 


Subject: SCP-315-1 
Photographed Activity: Being interviewed onscreen by Dr. 


Photo Result: Screen is blank. 
Notes: So... does this mean it wants oblivion? Or is it that 978 can't 
detect it? I'm missing something, | know | am. - Dr. 


Subject: SCP-337 

Photographed Activity: Braiding itself in its containment chamber. 
Photo Result: A naked woman, identifiable as a bearded and fur- 
covered version of the late Dr. Solomon, is shampooing SCP-337. 


Subject: SCP-343 
Photographed Activity: Standing and smiling for the camera. 
Photo Result: No change. 


Subject: SCP-344 
Photographed Activity: Sitting in its storage locker. 
Photo Result: No change. 


Subject: SCP-397 

Photographed Activity: Playing the violin. 

Photo Result: Examining SCP-978; the mutilated body of the 
photographer is visible, with the neck of the violin protruding from his 
torso. 


at Sinclair. "Show me your other arm, Doctor." Dr. Sinclair's face 
instantly faulted. She pulled up her other sleeve, exposing a scarred, 
hairless arm. The auditor's frown intensified. "How did this happen?" 


"I..." Dr. Sinclair looked down, looking as if she was about to cry. "I 
tried a salve to cover my scars. | got it wrong..." 


Broderick scribbled furiously, but silently, on the tablet, before 
standing up. "That is all | need to know. Good day, Dr. Sinclair, Mr. 
Reynolds. My report will be delivered within five months of this 
date." He took his tablet under his arm, pocketed his stylus, and 
calmly strode out the door. 


After he left, Katherine Sinclair put her head into her hands, and just 
rested her elbows on the counter, shaking softly. Monty looked at 
her, concerned. "Katherine?" 


"Monty just... just go. Please. | need some time alone." She 
sounded choked. 


Montgomery Reynolds nodded, and withdrew from the room as 
quickly as he could. As he stepped out into the hallway, he 
wondered what Katherine could possibly do if she lost her job. She 
could get a job with the Initiative, maybe, or the GOC. But the former 
was far too religious, and the latter would probably make Katherine 
burn all of her findings. 


Monty leaned against the wall and rubbed his face, shaking his 
head. As he did, he swore he saw Matthew Broderick, the Tax Man, 
looking back at the hallway. He looked back at Montgomery, an 
almost apologetic look on his face, before moving on to the next 
department. 


« Bugs in the Process| Hub] 


There's An App For That 


| stood nervously before the desk. Although I'd met the Intelligence 
Operations Regional Director once before, when | first transferred 
into the department, I'd never had to deliver a report to someone this 
high up the chain of command before. It was a less than pleasant 
experience. 


Director Jameson looked up from the smart-phone she had been 
handling, turned it to face me, and said, "So, Agent Beard, please 
explain what I'm seeing here." On the screen of the phone was a 
large circles-and-arrows logo, with "Special Containment Protocols. 
How safe do you feel?” printed below it. 


"Well, ma'am, | was looking for an app on my personal phone and 
decided to look up a few Foundation keywords as a joke. 
Unfortunately, as you can see, there actually was an app out there. 
At $14.99, it's more expensive than most apps, which we hope may 
have limited the number of people downloading it, but until we 
complete analysis of the involved databases, we won't know for 
certain how many copies are out there." 


She placed the phone on the desk and steepled her fingers as she 
looked at me. "And how extensive is the breach?" 


| held my hands behind my back, absently noticing that my palms 
were getting sweaty. "It contains heavily redacted protocols for 
about 450 items, mostly classified as Safe, and a couple of other 
internal documents, including a handful of personnel files." | closed 
my eyes and took a deep breath. "One of them is an almost fully 
unexpunged file on Dr. Bright." 


Director Jameson's brow furrowed slightly as she briefly closed her 
eyes and sighed heavily. "Can these files be traced to any given 
Site?" 


"The most likely origin of the leak is the central data hub in-" The 


phone buzzed, interrupting me. Director Jameson picked it up, 
tapped the screen a couple of times, then slid it over to me. 


There was an update to the app, advertising "37 new Items! New 
pictures for 17 old Items! Ul upgrade! New submission form to report 
any Items you find out in the wild!" 


Director Jameson's voice grew harsh and her eyes grew cold as she 
said, "Coordinate with Internal Security and locate the source of this 
leak. | don't care if you have to crash Apple's servers, but get that 
app off the market immediately and locate anyone who got a copy. | 
want a weekly summary on your progress. Dismissed." 


| picked up the phone and left the room, glad that | wasn't getting 
blamed for the breach. Yet, anyway. And here | thought that 
transferring from field intel duty would be less stressful. 


Home for the Holidays 


“How are you doing this morning?” 
“Just fine.” 

"What did you eat for dinner last night?” 
*Oatmeal.” 


*Noted. Do you require a briefing? | have the papers here if 
necessary.” 


”...No. | think I’m starting to remember.” 
*Good. Let me know if you need anything. Have a good day, agent.” 
”You too. Happy holidays.” 


*Happy holidays.” 


“You gotta check out this pumpkin pie!” 


“Oh yeah, and it’s not mass-produced this time, even,” Jane from 
Accounting and Finance tells you with a white-toothed grin. “I made 
it!” 


"You always do pull through with these pies, Jane!" someone says. 


You force yourself to snap out of your daze for the sake of social 
decency. “Oh! That’s great, Jane.” You reach with a heavy arm for 
the plastic red cup full of forks and sporks as you eye the pie. You 
gulp. Its texture is far from appealing, and the shimmery wetness of 
its orange gunk reminds you of roaches for some reason. You put 
the fork down. “Uh... I’ve been nauseous all day, guys,” you say. It’s 
not like you’re lying, though it’s more of a tense feeling in your 
abdomen rather than outright nausea. “Would you mind if | cut a