| broke out of the crowd on the dance floor, sweating in 
my silk. | hadn't realized that Aunt Myra could still move 
like that until the bouquet hit the floor. | chuckled at the 
picture in my mind as | sunk gratefully into the first seat | 
came to. 


"Strawberry, milady?" 


| turned and met Michael's eyes. He was holding a 
chocolate-dipped strawberry on a fork. | pushed it away. 


"I'm already sweaty, Mike. The last thing | need is to get 
sticky." 


He raised his eyebrows. "| don't see any sweat. | see a 
woman brimming with so much happiness that her skin is 
shining with it. A woman who happens to have been 
torturing herself for the past six months to fit into that 
dress." 


| batted my eyelashes at him, mock serious. "Are you 
trying to seduce me, Mike?" 


"| can't help it. I'm in love with you." 
"| love you too, but I'm a married woman now." 
"Where is he? I'll fight him for your hand." 


"He's right... here." I'd intended it to be a quick kiss, but 
our lips had other plans. When we came up for breath, 
he said, "how about we share the strawberry?" 


| nodded, put my hand on the fork, and leaned in slowly 
and bit. Bliss. | wanted to remember every part of this 
moment for the rest of my life. | felt the smooth metal in 
my hand, still warm from where Michael was holding it. | 
saw his eyes glowing with the same excitement that | 
was feeling. | tasted fresh strawberry and smooth 
chocolate making love in my mouth. | smelled his 
cologne mixing with my perfume, not quite managing to 
hide the scent of both of our nerve-sweats combined. | 
heard... 


Screaming coming from the buffet table. 
And then | died. 


(Solved!) 


Round Eight: DreamwalkerFae 


| wake up strapped to a board, and someone just 
dumped a bucket of something cold and slick all over 
me. There's a chorus of shouts in the background. The 
cold liquid is dumped on me two more times, and each 
time raises another uproar from the surrounding crowd. 
Confused, | shout at my captors to tell me where | am 
and what is going on. | receive no response. 


Panic rises in my chest as a man walks up to me and 
pulls a jagged black knife out of his robes. | scream as 
he jabs it into my left thigh and pulls it downwards. Next, 
he moves to my torso, managing to make five even cuts 
along my ribs on both sides. Next come the fingers on 
my left hand. He continues in this manner for what 
seems like an eternity. Each of his cuts seems 
measured, cold, and precise, in stark contrast to my wild 
flailing. 


Once he is finished, the man picks up a chalice of some 
foul-smelling drink and takes a long drink from it. He then 
pours the rest on my chest, burning into my woulds even 
more. He sets down the cup, stretches his hands over 
me, and begins to recite a chant. As before, each of his 
actions seems deliberate and precise, as if he must carry 
out this twisted ritual in perfect form. 


"Mun-ti-ah-ak-met-su-ni-ah-bo-in-tec-nu..." His chant 
seems to be only beginning, but | cant fight the pain 
anymore, finally drifting off to my last moments of sleep. 
And then | died. 

And then | woke up. 


What a strange dream. It mostly just seemed to be a 
dramatization of my life, before that last part. | know it 
wasn't real, but... something about seeing your whole 
life, then just seeing it end like that... What do | do with 
the rest of my life? 


This question stays with me for the rest of my years. I'm 
never able to find an answer. 


And so | grow old. 
And then | died. 


(Solved!) 


Round Nine: Mister lous 


| love running. 


The clarity of a starting gun being fired, the anticipation 
of a long race, the thrill of crossing the finish line... 


lt almost all ended when the drunk driver nearly killed me 
in broad daylight. 


After the various surgeries were done, | was eager to get 
back to training, but my doctor told me that | had to wait 
several months before | could physically exert myself 
again. 


| lasted four weeks before cracking. 


| felt the breeze growing stronger as | picked up my 
pace, bringing with it the scent of new buds opening on 
the trees. It didn't really smell nice, though. It was weird. | 
used to love that smell. It was like | could smell it, but | 
couldn't smell it. Maybe | was going nuts. 


Running somehow didn't seem the same. | couldn't feel 
the freedom, that release of stress | was used to. It 
wasn't right. It wasn't... anything, really. 


| ran faster than I’d ever ran before, but | didn't get tired. | 
kept up a full sprint for almost the entirety of my run. But 
how? 


My vision started to blur. | blinked quickly, but it only got 
more blurry. My body seemed to be telling me 
something, but | couldn't figure out what. | kept running, 
trying to find the comfort that | had known before, but | 
couldn't find anything. | couldn't feel anything. 


My lungs gave out. | collapsed onto the road. 


And then | died. 


(Solved!) 


Round 10: sirpudding 


Soldier of the Revolution! Arise in defense of the 
Motherland! 


| blink the words out of my vision as my armor pumps the 
stimulants into my body and the memories of readiness 
drills into my mind. As | wake | hear that music and that 
stupid chanting, so we are still in combat. 


“Tasha, report." 


"Comrade Viki, the battle outside isn't going well. Some 
kind of enemy pods have attached," she whispers. 


"So prepare to repel boarders, huh?" 


ATTENTION: All tactical teams, report to your stations 
and prepare to repel boarders. 


She says, "Yes, comrade," without a trace of irony. 


The enemy finds me before | make it to my station. 
Something shreds the bulkhead and this thing glides 
through. It's big; 3 meters at least, mosily tail, with these 
three huge arms on the front and one big cyclopean 
sensor bulge right in the center of the arms. It's wearing 
an armored spacesuit, or maybe it's a robot. | open up 
with the rockets and it misses me with some kind of 
plasma weapon. | hit one of those arms at the base, and 
it separates, spraying gooey fluid and meat. Not a robot, 
then. 


On the radio, it doesn't sound like we are doing so good, 
and | try to report in, but | keep getting stepped on by 
some poor dying bastard. 


Comrade Starshina Usov, belay your last. Report to deck 


54 section )K, unseal orders K-03, and carry them out 
with all due diligence in defense of the Motherland. 


"Tasha gives me the map and | get to section Zhe. The 
walls here look like they are made from the shell of some 
huge bug and there's this big pulsating mass. 


"All right, "Tasha, give me those orders,” and I'm able to 
remember one of those secret briefings they gave me. 
They say I'm supposed to cut open that big bag. 


| read the graffiti: 


The hive presents its finest soldier in order to 
repel all boarders. 


"Huh? | guess the brass thinks it's worth trying,” and | 
start cutting. 


What comes out is very fast and | feel something hit me 
in the stomach. | smash into the wall and black out. 
When | come to, the music and chanting has finally 
stopped, but over the radio all | hear are screams. 
"Tasha, | can't feel my legs." 


"That's because you are cut in half, comrade. I'm sorry 
but | won't be able to keep us alive for long. | don't think 
opening that thing was a very good idea." 


"Heh. And they say you can't understand irony. Can you 
still work my arm? Does the cutting laser still work?" 


"Yes, Viktor Vyacheslavich." 


"Well, lets add a warning to this graffiti. Put it in binary, 
like the others. Maybe somebody in another world will be 
smarter than us." 


And then | died. 


(Solved!) 


Round 11: Agent MacLeod 


| never understood why all my friends made fun of my 
boyfriend. | mean, yeah, he was a /ittle chubby and a 
little weird, but he was also very sweet. Plus, | liked how 
weird he was. | mean, aren’t we all a little weird? He was 
nice to me, and we shared a lot of the same interests, so 
it made sense to me that | dated him. | mean, of the guys 
I’ve dated and I’ve seen my closest friends date, he had 
to be one of the nicest ones. No, scratch that, he was the 
nicest one. 


The biggest problems are, he’s a little goofy, and 
sometimes his romantic gestures end very poorly. I’m 
going to explain the worst such example of that second 
one. 


He took me to the beach, where we bought ice cream at 
the boardwalk, when he leaned in to kiss me and 
accidentally got ice cream all over my shirt. | mean, we 
were at the beach, so | had a swimsuit top on 
underneath, but it was a white shirt and he stained it. He 
kept apologizing, and he tried to wipe it off, but it looked 
like he was trying to grope me, so he just kept making 
himself look worse. Or, that’s how it looked in his own 
eyes, at least. | wasn’t mad at him. 


So we were walking along the beach holding hands, me 
in my swimsuit top and shorts, and him wearing his 
trunks and a t-shirt, saying sweet nothings and him trying 
to make up for his screwup at the boardwalk. | wanted 
him to just shut up and enjoy the beach, so | faced him 
towards me, closed my eyes, and leaned in for a kiss. 


When | opened my eyes, the beach was gone. We were 
in acold, moonlit forest. How did we end up in a forest? 
We were on the beach just seconds ago!!! | started to 
panic. So did my boyfriend. He kept telling me that | 
needed to take his hand. | wanted him to take me back. 
He said he didn’t know what was going on either, but he 


really needed me to take his hand. 


That was when we heard the children laughing. He tried 
to grab my hand, but he was rough, and | got scared, 
and | started to run away. The laughter turned into 
screaming, and there was something chasing me and — 


And then | died. 
(Solved!) 


Round 12: CondorTalon 


I'm sorry. 


My knuckles go white as | grip the steering wheel harder, 
sweat collecting on my forehead as | pick up speed. 


I'm so sorry, Jennifer. I'm doing this for you. 


My other hand trembles, my phone practically glued to 
my ear. | can hear the whimpering of my sweet Jennifer 
over the phone, and my shaky resolve turns into a grim 
determination. Oh, my sweet Jennifer. Please forgive 
me. 


This is all to keep you safe. 


| can see the speedometer inch slowly more and more 
toward the far side, and | look forward, eyes on the 
horizon, fixed on one particular point. 


| can vaguely hear sirens coming from behind me, and | 
realize, almost as an afterthought, that I'm breaking 
several traffic laws. Like | care. 


At least Jennifer will be safe. 


| see my target approaching fast, hear the voice through 
the phone. 


Here | go. Jennifer... | love you. 


The tires squeal and my stomach turns as | pull the 
steering wheel hard. 


And then | died. 


(Solved!) 


Round 13: ObserverSeptember 


| sit down at the table in front of me. Why the hell are 
they all wearing those weird things over their eyes and 
I'm not? | don't really feel too good about this, but | don't 
really have much of a choice. I've lived a long while, and 
worse things have happened to me. 


They put a book in front of me - weirdly enough, | can't 
even see the title; it's covered up by a bunch of weird 
tape. | try to turn it over to so | can see the title of the 
book, but they stop before | can. 


"Please open the book to page 344," the woman behind 
me says. 


344, huh? Alright, then. | open up the book, and... 


Well, it's just a history book. Looks like I've pulled the 
page up to 1971. A few photos of the Battle of Brooklyn, 
along with a couple of the Ascended. | worked with a few 
of them when we were fighting against the insurgency. 
Nice guys, all of ‘em. 


| look back, and the woman seems alarmed. "Where is 
your arm?" 


My arm? The fuck is she talking about? | lost my arm 
during the Second Battle of Hartle. Was pretty crazy, 
going through that hole after they expanded it. 


SCP-785: A Chain Restaurant 


Item #: SCP-785 
Object Class: Keter 


Special Containment Procedures: If periodic global searches of 
governmental records report the registration of any restaurant with 
the phrase “Uncle _'s ” in its title, a containment breach is to 
be reported to both the supervising researcher of SCP-785 and the 
leader of Mobile Task Force Beta-3 (“Take-out Diners”). MTF Beta-3 
is to secure the restaurant (SCP-785-2) and prevent any civilians 
from entering or exiting. Following the lockdown of the immediate 
area, a five kilometer radius quarantine is to be constructed around 
SCP-785-2. All civilians inside the quarantine are to be interviewed 
and administered Class A or B amnestics, on a case-by-case basis. 
The restaurant owner and all individuals knowledgeable about 
SCP-785-2 or its origins will be personally interviewed by the 
overseeing Level 4 researcher. Following the interview process, the 
Foundation is to ensure that all media reports will have the 
restaurant name (SCP-785-1) altered. Due to the extensive amount 
of time required in resolving a SCP-785 containment breach, it is 
advised that Standard Cover Story 12 (“Gas Leak”) be deployed. 


Only the current leader of MTF Beta-3 and the overseeing 
researcher of SCP-785 are to know the full title of SCP-785-1. 
During containment operations all operatives must have equipment 
possessing real-time sensory modification software that prevents 
them from either reading or hearing the full title. If either individual is 
suspected of leaking SCP-785-1 an immediate interrogation is to be 
conducted. 


For purposes of experimentation, one instance of SCP-785-2 is to 
be contained inside Site-23. Only D-Class personnel are permitted 
to interact with it. 


Description: SCP-785 comprises any restaurant with a name 


"No," she says, "your arm was there a moment ago. It 
just disppeared." 


No way. This lady is fucking crazy. Why the fuck would 
she say something like that? LIKE HELL it was there! I've 
had that goddamn stump for decades, and I'll be damned 
if | let some stuck-up egghead tell me | don't! | stand up 
and rush toward her, to teach her a lesson for talking 
down to me - 


Then the guard shoots me. 
And then | died. 
(Solved!) 


Round 14: Thekillerax 


It had been Nicole who had suggested that we go to the 
park that day. | had heartily agreed, if only to spend more 
time with her. We walked outside and settled down on a 
park bench, a feeling of contentment settling in my chest. 
We sat in silence, giving me a chance to think. Soon my 
thoughts were drifting back to a few weeks ago. 


When Nicole had approached me, begging for 
forgiveness and a chance to stay with me, | almost 
slammed the door in her face. But I'd decided to grant 
her a second chance. As much as | had hated to admit it, 
those months without her had been some of the hardest 
I'd ever had to slog through. There'd been a hole in my 
chest, and no amount of porn could fill it. And now that 
she was back my life was more or less back to normal. | 
was happy, finally. 


| was pulled from my reverie by an angry voice to my 
right. | looked over to see a man at least a foot taller than 
me towering over Nicole. Oh God, what was going on? 
Was this a mugging? Surely someone would do 


something! But all we got were concerned looks from 
passersby. | struggled to focus on what the man was 
saying. 


"...for this guy? Are you fucking serious?" 


Nicole simply stared at him, petrified. Mustering my 
courage, | opened my mouth, and for a horrible second 
no sound came out. "L-leave her alone!" | finally 
managed to squeak out. 


"Funny," the man said, chuckling humorlessly. "That's 
what | oughtta be saying to you." His hand shot out and 
wrapped around my throat. He leaned in close and 
growled, "Jasmine is mine. Leave her the fuck alone." 


Jasmine? This man was simply mistaken. He flung me 
back onto the bench and | gasped, desperately 
attempting to draw in enough breath to speak. Finally | 
managed to croak out, "Not Jasmine. Nicole."