You are attached to your first patrol the next day, in what on the map 
is labeled Grozny but in reality exists only as a smoldering cemetery 
of skeletal buildings, charred vehicles and mostly unburied corpses. 
Though the battle is officially over, it remains a place of wholesale 
slaughter and devastation, and you wonder why anyone would 
deem such a godforsaken place to be of any importance. Your 
squad picks its way through mountains of rubble and around mass 
graves, Sweeping up a few stragglers here and there. 


Out of the corner of your eye you spot a teen aged boy, his face 
covered in a few dirty rags and carrying a soldier’s rucksack over 
one shoulder. The sergeant screams at him to halt but instead the 
boy breaks into a run, darting away from you. Your sergeant turns to 
you, pointing, and bellows, “Snaiper!’ leaving little doubt in your 
mind as to what he is ordering you to do. Before you even realize it 
your SVD is nestled snugly upon your shoulder and the scope is at 
your eyes, the graduated sights already aligned on the fleeing figure. 
The rifle jumps violently in your hands and the boy drops to his 
knees, blood spilling from the exit wound in his chest as he gasps 
for air. Dust settles around him, and he is still. 


Your sergeant jabs a fist in the air, ordering the rest of the squad to 
hold as the two of you fall out to examine what was in that bag. 
Approaching the corpse, your eyes notice something you had 
missed before: long strands of dark brown hair fall from the crude 
balaclava, now jarred out of place and showing the boy’s facial 
features more clearly. You are suddenly overwhelmed by the 
realization that “he” isn’t a boy at all, but actually a young girl- only 
about 17 or so by the looks of it. Her blood soaks the charred 
ground and her empty brown eyes stare lifelessly at the perpetually 
cloudy sky. Your hands begin to shake as you riffle through the bag 
and you pray, pray to god that there are grenades or something, 
anything to justify taking this girl’s life. 


All you find are a few meager scraps of bread. 


Nausea overtakes you and you fall to the ground and retch violently, 
your sergeant standing over you with his ever-present scowl. He 
grabs you with his giant’s hands and forces you to stand on your 


feet and look him in the eye. “Looks like you can shoot after all, 
boy,” he says as he pries open your clenched hands and returns the 
marksman’s badge. 


The Mediterranean, present day: 


Jimmy Durante’s “I'll Be Seeing You” lilts through the air from a radio 
somewhere on the street below you, conveniently distracting 
passersby just finishing their antipasti at the streetside cafés. The 
beach is deserted save for a young girl sprawled across a tiny dock, 
her shapely legs kicking playfully in the warm Italian water, frilly 
pastel-yellow dress glowing in the soft luminescence of the setting 
sun. A smile plays across her face-she’s pretty, and you find it 
difficult to maintain your professional detachment whilst observing 
her through the rifle scope. You try to keep focus, but part of your 
mind keeps drifting, longing to be on the beach with her, holding her 
hand, telling her how beautiful she is and how happy she makes you 
feel by just looking at her. 


“Delta One, in position.” Dr. Clef’s voice responds through the radio 
in a terse command, “Delta Six. Go.” 


She turns to look at the older woman approaching her from the 
beach, affording you a perfect view of her face. You barely feel the 
weapon move as a .22 caliber bullet leaves your suppressed rifle 
and impacts her head squarely between the eyes. She doesn’t feel a 
thing, just crumples like a broken doll, still smiling, blood streaming 
from the tiny entry wound and glimmering in the sunlight. 


“Delta One, target neutralized.” 

“Delta Two, confirm.” 

"Delta Three, engaging target." 

"Delta One, moving to support." 

"Negative, Delta One, Delta Three. Delta Six will handle this one 
personally." 


The older woman stops in her tracks, dropping a basket of wine and 
cheese at her feet in disbelief and horror just as Dr. Clef clubs her 
across the face with his pistol. Your concentration lapses again and 
you ignore the ensuing brawl and flurry of radio activity. Instead you 
gaze at the young woman’s face, even now still smiling as her skin 


grows pale from blood loss. You manage to hold the bile down as 
your spotter takes a shot; SCP-784’s body collapses atop the girl 
and breaks your line of sight. Silently, you thank God for this small 
gift. 


Later, you come across a folded note on your desk. It’s a 
commendation from your Mobile Team leader for assisting in the 
termination of SCP-784, a “dangerous and destructive entity that 
posed a grave threat to both the Foundation and mankind in 
general.” You fold the note and place it atop your gun rack, in which 
reside two rifles: an SVD Dragunov, and a suppressed .22 rifle of 
Czech design. Each has a single mark carved in the stock. Each has 
only been used once, now they both collect dust in your office. 


You collapse onto the stiff bed and contemplate the day’s events, 
your mind returning to something you told yourself many years ago 
in a place far away from here. 


The only thing worse than killing an innocent girl, is getting a medal 
for doing so. 


The thought remains with you all night, keeping you awake. You 
wish your father was still alive, wish he could give you some advice, 
wish you could ask him what all of this was for. You remember what 
he told you when you were a little boy, and wonder now if you would 
have the fortitude to tell him that he was wrong. The monsters are 
still very much alive. 


Bananazilla Begins, Part | 


",.. And then flushed the rest of them down the goddamn toilet." 


Dr. Pearl Watkins, lead scientist at Aquagene Pet Shop, hung her 
head as she slumped in her chair. She wasn't sure what to feel. At 
the moment, it was a mix of guilt, for the fact that they had caused 
the EPA such trouble, horror, for the fact that her employee's little 

stunt had grown into a monster, and most of all, exasperation, for 

the fact that said employee was an absolute jackass. 


"If we find that man again, | swear to God." Dr Marcus Nakamura, 
head Aquagene scientist, was bristling with indignation his former 
employee's carelessness. To add insult to injury, it was he and 
Watkins that were now under fire from the government, and not 
Perkins, who was probably off at another company doing all sorts of 
stupid to that new poor business. 


The man questioning them arched his eyebrows, disbelief etched in 
every crease of his face. "I'm sorry?" he said. 


"Oh, my, fricking, God," Dr. Watkins' voice squeaked slightly as she 
ran her hands through her hair, accidentally dislodging her hair clip 
and causing her vision to be obscured by curtain of pink. She always 
dyed her hair according to upcoming Aquagene set themes. Pink 
was the new craze, with the new release of the insanely popular 
Gumball Guppies. She thought those little guys were absolutely 
adorable. "Mr. Liu, 1— We are so, so sorry, for the trouble we've 
cause you. You— It looks like you were able to capture it?" 


"That is correct..." Foundation Researcher Matthew Liu still trying to 
process what these two people had just told him. 


How in the world is this company able to have a clean record? He 
thought. /f they get into these messes all the time how the hell can 
they— 


"So, um, Mr. Liu, is it possible we can, um, take a look at this fish 
now?" Watkins asked nervously, biting her lip. 


"I'm...sorry?" Liu blinked. 


Watkins flushed, realizing how stupid those words sounded. Their 
company was directly responsible for this mess, and the last thing 
this man would want was for them to— 


"What | mean is," she began. "We, um, well, we're the company with 
the original techniques for creating—" 


"That's right, Mr. Liu," Mr. Nakamura piped in. "If it's possible for us 
to examine this thing, we might be able to help you find a way to—" 


At that moment, Researcher Liu's comm flared to life. 


Liu, you still with those two? A male Jamaican voice spoke ina 
hurried tone on the other end. 


Liu picked up his radio to dial back. "Excuse me," he said to the pair 
of scientists. "Yeah, Morgan, talk to me. What's going on?" 


We've got a situation with the bananafish. It ain't pretty. The man's 
voice sounded slightly confused when he said "bananafish", as if he 
wasn't sure that was the correct term to use. 


"What's going on? Did it grow again?" Liu's brow furrowed in 
concern. 


Uhh, yes, yeah, Marcus, it did. But, it, uh, it grew because it... 
Marcus, man, there's no easy way to put this, it ate a D-Class and 
now It's walking around on its hind legs. 


There was a brief moment of silence in the room. Marcus stood still, 
once again not quite believing what he just heard. Watkins and 
Nakamura on the other hand, looked confused. 


"What?" Liu groaned. His day was about to get a whole lot worse. 


"Um," Watkins managed to get out. "What's a D-Class—?" 


"Morgan, what's the damage report? Did it get out?" Marcus spoke 
rapidly, looking back and forth angrily between his comm and the 
two Aquagene scientists sitting on the couch across from him. 


What? Oh, no, no, it's still in containment, Liu, all locked down, but— 


"All right, thanks," Liu interrupted. "Morgan, please note, I'm bringing 
the two persons of interest back to Site-71. Notify the guard stations 
so they don't try to mind wipe 'em when they cross the door." 


"What?!" Watkins squeaked. 


"Um, Mr. Liu?" Nakamura asked nervously. "What do you mean by 


"You two, shut up, you're coming with me,” Liu snapped, as he 
pushed open the door and began walking out. "And you're gonna 
help us figure out this hot mess of a so-called fish you made. Follow 
me downstairs please, we're gonna have to speed back to base." 


The two Aquagene scientists sat still on their couch, not sure what to 
do at the sudden turn of events. 


Marcus looked back and stared. "Now!" he barked. 


The pair jumped, then hurriedly followed the Foundation agent out of 
the room. 


As they rushed down the hall, all three people's heads were filled 
with confusion. But one thought was felt by all of them as they made 
their way down to the Van that would take them to Site-71. 
Everyone's day was about to get a whole lot more interesting. 


Liu bristled. This is ridiculous. 
Watkins whimpered to herself. This is crazy. 


Nakamura bumbled behind. This is bananas. 


Bananazilla Begins, Part Il » 


Bananazilla Begins, Part Il 


...This is bananas. 


Marcus Nakamura stayed silent with fear as the armored van 
carrying him and Dr. Pearl Watkins rumbled softly down the road to 
who knows where. 


Things had taken a very sudden turn of events. One moment, you're 
being interrogated by an EPA agent about a mutated banana 
pipefish. Next, you're being rushed out a door because said banana 
pipefish (Which somehow grew legs) ate something called a D- 
Class, and the man interrogating you pushes you out the door, 
throws a bag over your head and then shoves you into a van with an 
armed guard sitting in between you and your colleague. 


Marcus was beginning to have his doubts about this man's 
credibility. What the hell is going on? Marcus felt his neck beginning 
to sweat as a number of fears began to hit him all at once. Is this 
man even with the EPA? All this talk about mutant fish and — and 
— what is gong on?! 


Meanwhile, in the driver's seat, Foundation Agent Matthew Liu was 
weaving his way through traffic, trying to get off the main road so he 
could get back to Site-71 as soon as possible. He occasionally 
glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure the two scientists 
weren't trying to pull anything. Thankfully, it seemed they were too 
frozen with fear and confusion to try that. He felt a quick pang of 
guilt for being so rough with them on the way out, but that guilt was 
quickly replaced by annoyance. It was their own damn fault that they 
got caught up in this mess. You release a mutant fish into the wild, 
you think you'd be responsible to clean up after it. 


Back in the back seat, Watkins began to cry. 


Oh, no. Liu thought. Here we go. 


"Why — hic — where are you taking us?!" Watkins managed to 
choke out. "What are you gonna do-do-do to us?! Please, please, | 
don't wanna die!" 


"Pearl," Nakamura tried to calm his friend down. "It's okay, we're 
gonna be okay, all right?" 


"Yes, yes, listen to Dr. Nakamura," Liu said still trying to concentrate 
on driving. "You're not going to die, Dr. Watkins, we just need your 
help. After you help us, you're free to go." 


"You-you-you're kid — hic — napping us," Watkins voice was barely 
understandable between her tears and the bag over her head. "Are 
you g-g- hic gonna — Wh-who are you?!" 


"I'll explain when we stop driving, Dr. Watkins," Matthew said, 
gritting his teeth. God, | don't wanna babysit these two. 


"Agent Liu, should | sedate them for now?" The guard sitting 
between Nakamura and Watkins asked. 


Watkins squeaked. Nakamura slumped. 


"What? David, no, no, don't be stupid, don't freak them out," 
Matthew snapped. "We need them to trust us, okay? For now, just 
— just, | need you to stay quiet, all right? | promise, nothing's going 
to happen to either of you, all right? You're gonna be fine." 


Matthew, Matthew, you there? The car's intercom flared to life again. 


Matthew hurriedly flipped the radio to speaker. "Yeah, Morgan, I'm 
here, what's the situation? All good?" 


Yeah, still under control. We got a team in and were able to knock 
the thing out. Just pumped it with a ton of trangs. You know how this 
thing works though, it's always changing. It's out for now, but get 
your ass back here sooner than later. Wouldn't want it to eat those 
two you're bringing— 


Liu turned the speakerphone off, quickly glancing in the mirror again. 
Ah, Jesus, | hope they didn't hear that last bit. 


"Oh god, we're gonna die!" 
"Mr. Liu? Please, please don't hurt us!" 


"Uuggggggh," Matthew groaned and punched the accelerator. The 
sooner they got back to Site-71 the better. 


Phillip Morgan, SCP-2761 wrangler, had one thought going through 
his head as he kept an eye on the yellow monster that was 
SCP-2761, or, as the staff of Site-71 had begun to call it, 
"Bananafish". 


This is stupid. 


"This is stupid," he said out loud. "No, no, this is really, really, really 
stupid." 


As he sighed, his radio buzzed. 


We're outside the gate, a familiar voice said. Matthew sounded more 
than a little annoyed. See you in five. 


Phillip pressed the respond button. "Got it, Matt. See you soon. No 
problems on our end, you'll be cleared to enter." 


Meanwhile, in its metal enclosure pen, SCP-2761 rumbled softly as 
it lay on its side, chock full of potent tranquilizers. Its yellow hide 
continued to exude the scent of bananas, masking the fact that its 
body contained what could basically be summed up as "Everything 
Cancer". 


Except that "Everything Cancer" didn't kill it. Nooooooo, that 
Everything Cancer just made it a bigger pain in the ass every time it 
ate something. And now, it had just eaten D-5781-E, in a not so 
pretty fashion. And now, it had gone from a four-meter banana- 
salamander with teeth, to a five-meter banana-alligator. With much 
bigger teeth. 


We're gonna need a clean-up crew in there as well. Phillip shook his 
head, groaning, and wondering what sorts of wrong would have to 
come together to make this absurd animal. 


At that moment, the door to SCP-2761's door buzzed open. 


Not even turning around, Phillip rolled his eyes. "About damn time, 
Matthew." Despite what he said, Phillip felt a wave of relief wash 
over him.