¢ 2to 3 hours prior to Event: The outbreak generally occurs 
during Opening Night, or else at the production with the 
greatest planned attendance (generally falling within the first 
week after the play's opening). 


¢ 7 to 2 hours before Event: SCP-701-1 begins to appear on 
stage in the final scene of Act |, generally in the background or 
to the side of the main action. It may seem to enter or exit the 
stage area, but does not appear to ever enter the backstage 
or off-stage area; it simply disappears when not on stage. The 
cast does not appear to notice or comment on SCP-701-1, at 
least at first. 


The Event: SCP-701-1 appears fully on stage during the 
banquet scene in Act V. Here, it will be incorporated into the 
action of the play as ‘the Hanged King.' The cast will either 
murder each other or commit suicide, sometimes using items 
that seem to appear spontaneously on stage. Rioting breaks 
out in the audience, with viewers randomly attacking anyone 
in front of them, regardless of prior relationship. 


Following the Event: lf any of the audience members survive 
the initial outbreak, they may exit the performance space, in 
which case they will continue to engage in random or 
opportunistic violence. Victims will generally require sedation 
or restraint in this scenario; normal personality will begin to 
return roughly 24 hours after the event. Surviving victims will 
generally exhibit signs consistent with a traumatic experience; 
some will have no recollection of the event. Others may be 
rendered permanently comatose or psychotic. 


For a typical case study of an outbreak, see Incident Report 

SCP-701-19 -1, an analysis of the events leading up to the last 
uncontained SCP-701 event in 19 , during a high school drama 
performance in , «For more information on the play’s 


It's a distraction. We march every day, keeping the beat. 
There isn't time to play games, Cindy. | know you read 
this. | know you've been tearing the pages to write your 
own personal symphony. Well, | can tell you that you're 
just a roll of quarters stuck inside the cash machine, not 
hearing the chime of changing hands above you. 


Things are different now. They're always going to be. | 
remember changes before, or later. Sometimes it's hard 
to decide. 


July 15th, 1976 


I'm not hungry anymore. We talk to each other, and play 
One another, and make them into the notation. We're 
conducted together. Who needs free breakfast, lunch, 
and dinner when you're part of a bigger piece? Cindy 
was eating. She can, | have life to live. 


God, my stomach is twisting itself tighter than a violin string right 
before it snaps 


July 18th, 1976 


Before we met, | was a pitcher of water, sloshing around 
and holding all my notions in my skull. My flow was 
stagnant, and | couldn't walk with my fellows. We had to 
break the glass, let it fall to pieces, let it sink into the 
sides of our heads. Rattles arounnnd until all the pieces 
catch. | needed you to put it back together again, with 
the cracks showing. It comes in like a fountain now, and | 
know so much. 


| remembered how we used to sing. 


« First Bell | HUB | Old School » 


First Interlude: Old School 


"We're going to have a great year, aren't we?” 


- The girl who sat behind you. 


Students! Please be advised that class scheduling will 
begin this Saturday, in the auditorium. Please remember 
to bring your class request forms, as well as being ready 
to spend time with a guidance counselor about possible 
choices. Seniors, if you wish to enlist in dual enrollment, 
please see Mr. Wehrner in his office afterschool. We 
hope each one of you has a wonderful second semester. 


Congratulations to the Fightin' Lions, who won their way 
to the finals yesterday! After a close first quarter, we 
were able to shut them down for the rest of the game. An 
unbelievable upset in victory. Please congratulate Coach 
Collins if you see him on your way to class, or in the 
halls. Students are reminded to donate to the annual 
fundraising for extracurricular activities. Although 
Syncope has been very generous in their donations, we 
still need your contributions. 


New Bus Schedule: Students displaced in buses 23, 11, 
and 24 have been returned to their normal schedule. 


Note from Mr. Wallick to all band members: Intensive 
training begins Monday. Please come prepared each day 
to practice. 


A new lunch menu has been announced, aimed to serve 
students who have been spending more time at school 
for extracurricular activities. It is being offered free to any 
student in a program sponsored by Syncope. 


New Bus Schedule: Removed. 


Students! If you feel strong enough, please rest with our 
brothers, see how the formula all comes together to 
make one tableture. 


Hello students. This is Principal Wehrner. Mitchell 
decided that it was high time to take a step back in 
responsibility, and that he's going to groove to another 
beat. That's okay. We will grow onwards. Like the spire 
of the Eiffel tower, we will inspire many people to create 
the parachute so that they may safely live with the stars. 
Nobody will be excluded from further activity. We've 
brought everyone here to be together. Have a good year. 


STUDENTS! Please stand with me for the pledge of 
symphonic allegiance, and sing your hearts out with 
style. 


Some have said that it was the new system that caused 
them to part. Those of you who do are warned. The 
Director will hear of anything we say. He's listening to all 
of us now, hearing the rhythm of the panting and the 
running crowds. The bells, and the blackboards. It's 
harmony. 


rest 


Students are reminded that only band members are 
permitted off school premises. Any violaters will deal with 
their own consequences. They have only damned 
themselves with their own actions. 


« Part One | HUB | Part Two » 


Remembrance: Part Two 


Lee was there. Walking through the dead halls and broken doors, in 
his pressed uniform. They'd left him behind. Everyone else had 
been taken out, to play. Lee continued his march. They would be 
back soon. Syncope would always have a place for his percussion. 
Above him, the announcers added their steps to the beat. Lee 
looked up, keeping in step, to see what the tune would be today. 


Hello students. This is Principal Wehrner. Mitchell decided that it 
was high time to take a step back in responsibility, and that he's 
going to groove to another beat. That's okay. We will grow onwards. 
Like the spire of the Eiffel tower, we will inspire many people to 
create the parachute so that they may safely live with the stars. 
Nobody will be excluded from further activity. We've brought 
everyone here to be together. Have a good year. 


The rest of the school didn't seem to mind. Some of them had kept 
acting like nothing had changed, walking like scarecrows in a dead 
field. Some just sat there, watching people go by. Lee didn't care to 
ask them what they were looking at. He remembered walking down 
the hall, seeing the old faces singing. When their voices gave out 
they whistled, and when the lips went out they beat the drums. 


STUDENTS! Maybe you have noticed the new schedule system. 
We've divided everyone into the six populations, and given them 
each their own position in the school. | know this radical 
restructuring seems to have come from nowhere, but trust us, it's 
been a long time coming. Please stand with me for the pledge of 
symphonic allegiance, and sing your hearts out with style. 


Syncope was here. Lee could feel it in his sinews, twanging them 
like a banjo. From the band equipment came its force, and its glory. 
Before he could go on to think of eleven new wonderful things to say 
about the matter, Lee clenched his fists. Legs turned to run, but only 
at an awkward stance. The vibrations in his sinews grappled him by 
the lapels, and pushed him forward like a windup clock. 


Students, we are sad to report that we've had to let some staff and 
students go. Although they were bravely carrying on in their duties, 
in the end there is room for only so many in the orchestra of life. 
Please, listen in silence as we commemorate those who have gone 
to another place. They hear of anything we say. All of us now, 
hearing the the panting, running crowds. The bells, and the 
blackboards. The song. 


Lee stopped playing. Cold, pains were in him. Oh god... it hurts. The 
things clawed into his back from his arms, twisting up to his head. 
This isn't harmony. He tried to take a step, but fell, sprawling his 
limbs akimbo as he slammed into the ground. Where was his place 


in the symphony? 


It was punishment. An arm stretched out, grabbing for purchase. He 
needed to get out. Playing was all he needed to do. Cindy and all 
the others would be waiting for him there, to play with. Panting, he 
clutched his chest. An icy bubble welled in his chest, and pressing 
against him. He couldn't breathe, think oh god where is this all going 
how do no please have to remember now 


rest 


A rising crescendo was there. Faint at first, but growing. Weakly, he 
pursed his lips and croaked out a whistle. The crescendo grew. Oh 
the beauty, the grace. Let it take him, bring him back to his note. 


Lee closed his eyes, and slept. 
"Hey, find any more?" 


"One. Guy who looked like he'd been in the band. Found him in the 
upstairs hall, having some kinda fit." 


"Put him in the, uh... third room, | think. Some agent's should be 
giving Class A's and droppin' 'em later." 


"Can | get a hand? These kids are kinda heavy" 


Students are reminded that only band members are permitted off 


school premises. Any violaters will deal with their own 
consequences. Their actions have only damned themselves. 


Lee woke up on his back, facing up to someplace in the dark. With a 
throbbing heart, he swiveled his head back and forth, trying to hear 
it. There was only a low buzzing, sounding like a lean, hungry 
mosquito. No melody, no tune. Taking a step, his leg nearly buckled 
beneath him. Clutching his leg to keep from falling over, he didn't 
feel the suit. Just thin, bare cloth. 


Uniform gone, instrument gone. Music gone. Lee tried to step again, 
sluggishly stumbling. Why did they send him? These things 
happened, before there was a reason for them not to, so it should be 
over. The buzzing grew louder. Lee had to get back. Home. School 
was home. Lee struggled, the pounding slithering up from the heart, 
through the throat, and to his head. They were doing the music, and 
he had to be there now. 


someone said something. 
please 


they said to forget 


Lee shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. Syn... how 
did the tune go? What did they sing? 


they never sang, Lee. You forgot. It's so easy to forget, isn't it? 


The ringing grew louder, and they stopped talking to him. Louder, 
and whiter. 


We won't forget you 


« Old School | HUB | In Session » 


Second Interlude: In Session 


"Do you remember, when the bells had to ring?” 


"Can you tell me, how the children used to sing?” 


- An unknown admirer. 


We're finally leaving for the trip. It's been a hell of a ride 
getting here, but now we have it. A whole summer on the 
road. Nothing in our way but the freedom to ride the 
bends, turning wherever we feel like whenever we feel 
like. Rusty has his dad's wrecked up old Chevy for us to 
ride in, and he's gonna be driving. 


First day of the drive, and I'm pumped. We got Rusty in 
front, Lee in the passenger seat, with me and Andy 
chilling in the back. It's pretty nice. First place we're 
hitting up is the Black Ridge Rockstravaganza. | 
remember going here, it was amazing. Really what 
opened me up for my interest in rock. 


Everyone is going to have a blast, Cindy and Lee are 
real pumped up for it. | hope they don't end up passed 
out drunk on the field again. 


Driving down every road in Ohio must get boring after 
awhile, but Rusty manages to keep us going. | remember 
him telling all these wise-ass remarks about passing 
landmarks and people... But that was only when we're in 
the city. This is farmland. 


| can't right write now, my head is blah 
On the rooooooad again, i remembere the roooads again 


We must be lost. | don't recall ever having been stuck 


this long without seeing an open road, or a turn, or even 
another house. All we get is one straight, flat road, 
stretching on for what seems like ages. God, this is 
turning out to be a less than stellar opening to our last 
memorable summer. 


Rusty is an idiot. The first house we see for days, and he 
bolts by it. Apparently he had bad memories about the 
place, or some other hippie bullshit like that. You can't 
fucking have memories of shit you never saw. Then he 
has the nerve to not let anyone else drive, because he's 
supposed to be the driver. 


wait, | forgot. Did Lee ever drive... 


We left Rusty here today. When we came back he was 
gone 


The car is longer now. | don't know how, but | do. The 
lights in my teeth are getting brighter, and the eyes of my 
light are brighter. I'm sharp. 


« Part Two | HUB | Part Three » 


Remembrance: Part Three 


Lee checked his watch, like he always did, and stepped over the 
welcome mat. He was home. It wasn't a particularly impressive 
home, with its threadbare red carpets and grimy, unwashed 
windows, but it was his own home. He'd owned his own place for 
about three years, and wasn't exactly inclined to go back to his 
parents spare room. There were enough withering looks passed 
around during the holidays they bothered to visit for, thank you very 
much. 


Mom was disappointed in his college days. His engineering plans 
had fallen through when he didn't make it to the college. He'd tried 
his best, but the environment was just too hostile. He'd had to sell 
the rest of the coins just to stay afloat from the student loans. Dad 
was cross because Grandad's coins had gone with them, but 
Grandad would have wanted him to be safe, rather than in jail with 
some shiny Polish change. Well, Grandad had been through a lot to 
get the coins too... but no, he would've agreed. 


The job he'd gotten was paying his bills. He'd been entering data at 
the bank for about three years now, and it paid most of the bills. 
Mortgage and Water were the main two. Sometimes electric or gas 
had to go by the wayside. The job was still better than nothing. Plus, 
it let him spend some time out of the house, which was always 
better than being alone. 


Mail was tossed on the counter and temporarily forgotten, as Lee 
crouched over his fridge. It was mostly empty, but there was still one 
soda left. Mail continued to wait, watching as he set himself up with 
a glass and two iced cubes. Lee pulled up a wicker chair, and began 
to flick through the envelopes. There was a couple bills for the cable 
and from Bell, some junk mail asking him if he was a bad enough 
dude to learn karate, and something else. 


The sorting went on for a minute or so, as Lee rechecked his 
envelopes to make sure they were really for him, and opening the 


ones which required to be open, and as one can imagine he found 
this to be quite tedious. The chair legs scuffed the tiles as he stood 
up to go, which is what he would've done had he not spotted a red 
envelope sticking underneath the rest of his mail stack. 


It wasn't a fancy envelope, with just paper, his address, and no 
return address. Lee wasn't a suspicious man, but this letter still 
ticked off some alarms in his mind. He shook it, poked it, prodded it, 
dropped it, and a variety of other trials to determine any malicious 
content. The letter remained inert. With the letter's mundanity 
satisfied, he opened it, slowly tearing from one corner to another. 
Reaching inside, there wasn't any paper. Just a polaroid.