"What's this?" Sherry reached forward, and drew one of the request 
forms from the desk, eyes skimming over the text. A look of 
satisfaction grew on her face as she put the form back on the desk. 
"Finally. It's about time we cleaned out the riff raff.” 


Leep's brow wrinkled, a small frown taking residence on his lips. 
"Sherry, we can't do this every time there is a member of the staff 
that you don't like. You've already got a reputation." 


Sherry waved her hand, dismissing his concerns. "Had nothing to do 


with whether or not | liked them, Leep." She said, releasing her grip 
on his shoulders. The young woman moved a couple of items on the 
desk, and perched on the edge, swinging her boot clad feet back 
and forth. "I liked Dave, had a good sense of humor." She paused, 
"My "like" or "dislike" of our staff rarely has anything to do with how | 
behave. It's not relevant." 


Leeps right eyebrow rose ever so slightly, sensing the slightly 
defensive tone leaking into her voice. "The reports seem to indicate 
otherwise." 


Her face tightened into a cold and emotionless mask. "Leep, how 
many anomalous pathogens do we keep here?" 


"Close to one thousand." 
"Who's responsible for locking down the site if one breaks loose." 
"Site Security.” 


"Who establishes quarantine with new cases. Who establishes 
quarantine if and when one of these pathogens gets loose? Do you 
see where I'm going?" 


Leep leaned back in the chair, "Of course | do." His eyes caught a 
flicker of light, as the web-camera attached to his computer blinked 
on. 


“Then you understand." She said, the corners of her mouth turning 
up in the beginnings of a smug smile. 


"Yes." 
"Good, then we ca-" 


"| understand that you're hotheaded, impulsive, obtuse, and think 
you're going to get out of a reprimand for your actions." Leep said 
his demeanor completely changing, as he rubbed his temples. 


The comments were unexpected, and caught Sherry off guard, her 
previously emotionless face having twisted into a visage of surprise, 
and a brief flash of hurt. 


"| -" Leep stopped her mid-sentence, with a raised hand. 


"| also understand that, despite your impulsive actions, you 
somehow still managed to be one of the, if not the most, forward 
thinking, intelligent, and compassionate people | know, regardless of 
the often unconventional ways in which you show it." He paused, 
staring up, "Despite the abrasive behavior shown to specific security 
personnel, it is difficult to argue that your methods failed to protect 
the employees of this site, and | thus don't have a valid reason to 
actually reprimand you. However, | would ask something of you, as 
your partner." 


They locked eyes, Sherry's eyebrows raised slightly. Leep tilted his 
head to the right. Her head tilted towards the webcam on his 
computer. He nodded, and she registered what he was really doing. 


"Could you do me two favors?" Her head turned back. 


"Depends on the favors." Sherry responded, the uncertainty evident 
in her voice. 


"Tell me when you're about to do something...unconventional." 


She snorted, and rolled her eyes. "What, so you can tell me not 
too?" 


"No." Leep's voice was firm, drawing Sherry's gaze. "So that we can 
do these things less obtusely...and as a team." 


Again she snorted, her lips quivering as she suppressed a smile. 
"And?" The light on the webcamera switched off. 


The grin he'd been suppressing spread across his face. "Stop being 
so tough. You're a teddy bear, not a cactus." 


Sherry chuckled, lightly punching Leep on the arm. "You're full of 
shit." 


There was a moment of silence, as Sherry tilted her head, checking 
to make sure the camera was off. 


"How much of that was real?" 


Leep leaned back in the chair, a solemn look on his face. "Enough 
to make it believable." He moved the chair forwards slightly, and put 
his hand on hers, drawing her attention back. "| was serious about 
favor one." 


She nodded in acknowledgement. There was a moment of silence 
between them, as Leep released her hand. Sherry put her hand on 
his knee, and squeezed slightly. "How long have they been doing 
that." She nodded towards the web camera. 


"Since 2546." 
Sherry stiffened. "They aren't expecting us to..." 


"No. Nothing like that." He paused, shifting directions. "Did the raid 
uncover anything?" 


"Sal and the IT techs are still working on the encryptions. Don't think 
they'll find much, to be honest." 


The conversation came to an abrupt end with a knock on Leeps 
door. "Come in." 


Sherry didn't bother moving, merely twisting her torso slightly to the 
left as a young woman with dirty blond hair walked in. Sherry twisted 
back, her left eyebrow rising questioningly in Leeps direction. 


"Er, Director Andrews," she said nervously, clearly intimidated. 
Sherry shot Leep a bemused look. "New girl." he mouthed. 
"What do you need Karen?" 


"Commander Ryley is asking for you in the "War" room." she 
paused. "Both of you." 


"Can it wait?" Sherry responded, non-too kindly. Leep's head turned 
towards her, a look of ever so slight annoyance across his features. 


"He mentioned something urgent. Something about Kyrgyzstan, 
Tajikistan, and a 2546?" 


It is unknown precisely how this affects insects, as they lack the 
complex brain structures of humans. When affected, most flying 
insects fall to the ground, and land-based insects generally stop 
movement. In rare cases, they [DATA EXPUNGED]. Several 
hypotheses have been put forth to explain this, the most plausible of 
which is that the vocalizations interrupt the motor proteins around 
the major methods of locomotion in insects. It is unknown how 
SCP-954 developed this trait, however. SCP-954 has been found 
over most of North America, and parts of Europe and Asia; as such, 
there should be a variance of the development of the species, but 
there [REDACTED]. 


SCP-954 is not believed to be responsible for any deaths, however, 
at this time. Most subjects report a feeling of disorientation after 
being exposed to the effect which usually lasts for less than two 
hours. 


Addendum 1:On / / SCP-954's vocalizations were observed to 
be audible in the human perception range. This effect was observed 
by Doctor , during routine feeding of SCP-954. During this 
occurrence, Doctor reported feeling extremely uncomfortable, 
and later reported a headache. During this period of vocalization, 
several specimens of SCP-954 expired, due to rupture of the vocal 
apparatus. 


When Doctor reported to the medical department for standard 
workups after the test, it was found that his temporoparietal junction 
had swollen large enough to potentially cause damage to the 
surrounding tissues. Testing with SCP-954 is to be suspended 
immediately, and all instances of SCP-954 reported in the wild are to 
be collected immediately by MTF-Omega-87 ("Frog Watch"). Refer 
to document SCP-954-C/R-01 for specific instructions on team 
loadout and procedures. 


Note from Doctor : 

| don't believe SCP-954 is a danger at this point. Like all predatory 
creatures, it is attempting to adapt to the environment. Unlike most 
predatory animals, however, SCP-954 seems to adapt much faster, 
either inter-generational, or within first generation. This is 
remarkably interesting, and warrants further study. However, until 
containment and testing procedures can be updated, all testing is to 


Sherry and Leep froze. They looked at each other, and then the girl. 
Sherry leapt from the desk, as Leep pushed the chair back, and 
stood. The two nearly collided, in a most spectacular fashion, 
resulting in a muffled giggle from Karen. Again, the pair looked at 
each other, before speaking in unison. "We're on our way." 


The Completely Canonical Story of James, Age 8 


Hello. My name is James. You may know me from my appearance 
in various child-themed -Js. I'm here now to tell you the awful truth 
of the origin of these sources of hilarity. Though they may seem 
sweet and innocent, behind them lies a sinister plot. 


| began my work at the Foundation not too long ago. | was about 21 
at the time, not 8 as the misleading documents suggest. | was hired 
on as a junior researcher, writing those descriptions you read in 
various SCP articles. | was quite the prodigy of my time, and 
received a somewhat joking "Rookie of the Year" award at my site. | 
was on aroll. 


It was then that a certain Research Assistant Corbette approached 
me. "| need you to help me with an experiment," he said, "Follow me 
to this cell." Being the trusting fellow | am, | followed Corbette to the 
cell. He had an odd look on his face, one that | now understand. It 
was a slight smirk compounded with sunken eyebrows. Malicious, 
mischievous, evil. 


| walked into the cell and he immediately closed it. "No use 
screaming," his voice said over a microphone, "No one will hear 
you." | didn't even try. I've seen men be slowly torn apart by 
monstrous lizards in these cells and never heard a peep. | instead 
sat and waited in the corner. Surely someone could come save me. 
But nobody has. 


He began feeding me food laced with... something. It must have 
been an SCP of some sort. | began to become younger. My clothes 
became too big. My baby fat began to appear again. And then after 
2 weeks | was 8 years old again. That's when he put in a typewriter 
and paper and pencil crayons and said, "If you write me an article I'll 
give you food." 


So | did. It was a smash hit, as he told me, everyone loved it. 
Everyone except me. | harbored a deep hatred behind those bright, 


childish eyes. 

| think my time has come now, though. I'm ready to escape this 
chamber. I've found a way out. As a full grown man | could never 
escape, but as a child | can just fit through a hidden hole. 


I'm ready to break free and tell Command about this horrible, 
horrible man and the shit he's put me through. 


APRIL FOOLS! 


I'm actually a rhinoceros 


The Conceptual Theology of Physical Existence 


Yesterday, | learnt a fact that will change my life forever. 


Over a week or two, it'd been slowly fitting together, but it was only 
yesterday the last piece fell in. Useless information if you don't know 
about James, though. 


James was the good guy on block, always making sure he kept to 
the rules. Usually he only needed to remember to forget - 
infohazards were his specialty, you see. Stuff that hurts you while 
you know, but can't do anything if you don't remember it. That was 
what he was ace at. Guys who were learning the basics really 
looked up to him. Overseers kept him on speed dial, in case 
something special came up. The go-to legend, he was. 


Plenty of people around here liked him, too. Really friendly guy, 
helped out if he had time to. A lot of people would've gotten fired, or 
worse, if it wasn't for him. Nearly everyone owed him in some way or 
another. 


‘Killed that spider before it ate me.' 
‘Educated me in type-four retrophysics.' 
Damn beautiful heart, he had. 


But then he just didn't show up one day. Yeah, some guys went 
around to his place to check on him. They found him dead in the 
shower. He must've slipped while washing himself, because the 
water was still running. Everyone was just... really shocked at how 
sudden it all was. 


Pretty upsetting, especially when a bunch of jokers started acting 
like he was still around. Really fucking rude way of doing it, too; 
they'd be standing around talking, mentioning his names a couple of 
times like he was there with them. A couple of fights did happen, 


yeah, but they were pretty persistent about doing it. Nobody could 
get them to stop, so other people started joining in after awhile. 


‘Karma will hit them hard,' | thought to myself. 


Pretty surprising when it turned out / was the one who was wrong. 
All that time with infohazards and memes had really paid off for 
James. The sly bugger had figured out how to ascend, turned 
himself into information. Reached my head last out of the entire staff 
of Site-45, but man, he was glad he had finally reached me. 


Out of everyone, | was the one he'd been aiming for the whole time, 
to tell me one simple thing that changed my entire perspective of 
life: 


‘Look at the first letter of every sentence.’ 


The Consequences of a Deep, Dark Disassociation 


"That's Agent LaFerrier?" 
"That's the guy." 


A short, skinny man sat on the opposite end of the one way glass. A 
voice would come through the speakers and ask him a question, 
and he'd respond with unmatched conviction and vigor. He seemed 
to enjoy it, where most would answer in a slow sluggish drawl. It was 
rare to find someone in this field that loved their job so much. Very, 
very rare. Yet somehow more striking was that his features were in 
direct contrast with his actions - his skull shown more than his face, 
and his eyes never looked like they were quite /ooking at anything. If 
you were to hold a conversation with him, his voice would tell you 
that he was deeply invested, but his eyes would only look in the 
direction of you. For being only thirty-two, and showing so with his 
energy, he held himself like an old, seasoned veteran. 


"How're they doing?" 
"He's on track for a clean score of 70. Like always." 
"Like always indeed." 


Dr. Hillenburg kept close watch on LaFerrier. The bug in the system 
that they were, always getting off from their loyalty tests with a score 
of 70. Most field agents held 30, and this was perfectly acceptable. 
The O5 were required to hold 80 or above, and they were 
considered the most convinced of the Foundation's cause. Agents 
were usually there because of health care benefits, and often 
because the secrecy of the Foundation kept them in comfort. Among 
agents, there were many lives that they would rather forget in favor 
of being under the watchful eye of a multinational covert 
organization. LaFerrier didn't seem to be one of them. And 
somehow, although this should have been in every way a good 
thing, it was deeply concerning to the higher ups. Some would say 


they were very much looking a gift horse in the mouth, but there's 
another old war story adage about horses and gifts that nobody 
much cared to get rid of. 


"When they're done, don't bring them out. I'm going to have a talk 
with them." 


"As discussed. Of course." 


Hillenburg did not look to see the assistant exit the room. His eyes 
were affixed on LaFerrier, almost in an attempt to scan them like the 
other equipment was. Hoping to find what made them tick. Hoping to 
find a crack in their conviction. They, of course, didn't get 80. But it 
would have been insane to think that they would. It takes knowing 
the answers to the questions before they are asked to get something 
so high on the loyalty test, and LaFerrier was only human. 
Supposedly. The test was five minutes from being over, and 
Hillenburg began to sweat. There was an inhuman look about 
LaFerrier. Some odd combination of their sunken eyes and crooked 
nose and lazy gait. The way they looked at you without looking at 
you. With that effect, Hillenburg caught himself wondering if 
LaFerrier was staring at him at a couple different points. Reason told 
him that their eyes must just be darting about the room, and who 
wouldn't wonder who was watching them from behind a one way 
mirror? Still, the feeling was unable to be shook. 


Very soon, the questions stopped coming through the speaker, and 
LaFerrier stood up, awaiting someone to escort them. Unfortunately, 
that's not what they got. Hillenburg took one long, deep breath, and 
opened the door to the room. LaFerrier watched him wordlessly as 
Hillenburg took a seat opposite them. Hillenburg supposed that 
LaFerrier thought this to be another part of the test, and the test 
instructed one not to speak until prompted. Thus, Hillenburg did. 


"Hello, Agent LaFerrier,” Hillenourg spoke as he lent out a hand.