Zeb opened his mouth to respond, but his mother's cell phone 
started ringing before he could utter a word. As Rachael answered 
the phone and started what would undoubtedly be a very long chat, 
Zeb began to unbuckle himself from his car seat. His mother shut 
her door, and was already heading inside the house as Zeb opened 
his own door and exited the vehicle. He looked down at the garage 
floor to see the small dinosaur toy his mother had forgotten to bring 
to the park for him. Zeb realized she must have dropped it before 
she got in the vehicle, and he felt a pang of guilt for being so upset 
with her for arriving at the park empty handed. He picked up the 
plastic dinosaur, a Lambeosaurus he called "Albert", to make sure 
he was unharmed. Zeb glanced towards the doorway leading to the 
kitchen, wanting to be certain his mother was out of earshot before 
he spoke. The pang of guilt had quickly passed. 


"I'm glad she didn't run you over. Maybe you and | should move to 
Denmark," Zeb informed the toy hadrosaur, unaware of the changes 
in his own speech. He perked up at the sound of his mother 
rummaging through cabinet which housed their pots and pans. 
"Mommy's probably making macaroni and cheese for supper again. 
| told you that she would make it again, Albert. | guess we should go 
set the table." 


The lights on Zeb Rafferty's shoes blinked happily as he made his 
way towards the kitchen. He found himself wondering what his 
father was having for supper back at his apartment. Probably Thai 
food again, he thought. Zeb hated Thai food. He took his shoes off 
as he entered the kitchen, carefully closing the door behind him and 
listening to make sure it latched properly, then he watched his 
mother retrieve a small package from the fridge. Oh, he thought. At 
least she's making it with hotdogs this time. 


That night, Zeb dreamed of a one-sided conversation. He would 
remember none of it in the morning. 


Do you have any brothers or sisters? 


Oh. Oh I'm so sorry that happened. 

You know that wasn't your fault, right? 

| don't know. If there is, I'm sure he's there now. 

It shouldn't be like that. You're a smart boy, | can tell. 


Maybe not right now, but one day, Zeb, your toes may reach the 
trees. If that day comes, remember that all the good and bad things 
in your life are what brought you there. 


| used to have dreams too. I've had most of them taken away. 


No, | don't think so. I've made too many mistakes. Hurt too many 
people. 


That's true, but some are much worse than others. 
No, | can't. It will not matter how sorry | am, I'm afraid. 


If only it were so easy. 


once they might have been something 
now they were dandruff on the shoulders of the world 
shed by its will, and forever memorialized in script 


« And He Will Crash Upon The Rocks | Hub | Earth Dander » 


Burnt Bridges 


“Alright Daniel,” said Agent Dimaccio as he slid a final 
form across his desk towards Daniel Navarro. “Sign here 
and your training will be complete. You'll officially be 
classified as a Foundation specialist.” 


“Let’s get it over with then,” Navarro replied. “Got a pen?” 


Dimaccio gave a small chuckle as he quickly slid the 
document back towards him. 


“As much as | appreciate the enthusiasm, | don’t think 
you fully realize what your signature will mean. Daniel 
Navarro the anartist will officially be dead. Agent Navarro 
will take his place. That means that all of your former 
friends and colleagues will be POls first, and friends 
second, if they can even still be considered friends at 
that point. Your signature here will burn a lot of bridges. 
Just... take a few seconds, at least, to consider if those 
are bridges you can afford to never cross again.” 


“And what, waste all this time we spent training? Have 
my mind wiped so the Foundation can leave me ina 
gutter somewhere?” Navarro asked. 


“Don’t be so dramatic,” Dimaccio replied. “We wouldn’t 
do that to you, at least not now... Listen, my point is that 
this is the final checkpoint. The fail safe. God knows we 
train enough agents who don’t get to hit the brakes here 
when it would have been better for everyone if they did. 
Just take a second...” 


Navarro nodded and thought back to all of his friends 
from Portland, Jill, Tom, Alexis, Jackson, Jericho, Eric, 
Tanya, Francis, and Elizabeth. 


“Alright. That should do it.” Dimaccio said as he slid the 
document back across the desk. 


Navarro quickly signed it without another moment’s 
hesitation. 


“And that is that,” Dimaccio smiled. “Welcome aboard, 
Agent Navarro.” 


Series Overview: 


In mid 2004, known anartist Daniel Navarro was apprehended by 
Foundation personnel following a raid on his apartment in Portland, 
Oregon. In exchange for serving as a double agent for the 
Foundation, Navarro avoided being amnestitized and in 2005 was 
officially employed as a Foundation agent, serving as an anart 
specialist and liaison between various anart groups. However, 
someone with as many connections as Agent Navarro doesn't 
simply join the Foundation without stepping on more than a few 
toes, and past actions are very quick to haunt him... 


¢ Part 1: 15-11-2012 

* Part 2: Meeting Over Coffee 
¢ Part 3: JTH 

* Part 4: The Templar Incident 
¢ Part 5: Bridges Burnt 


SCP-599: Uncharted City 


Item #: SCP-599 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-599 is to be entirely 
enclosed within Site, which has been modified to look like a 
mountain from the outside. Any unauthorized tampering with Site 
will result in its complete destruction. Under no circumstances are 
any means of external communication allowed within Site . Any 
personnel who enter SCP-599 are to be given a thorough psychiatric 
evaluation immediately upon returning. 


Description: SCP-599 is a small city located in [DATA EXPUNGED] 
with a population of approximately 700. The inhabitants of SCP-599 
refer to it as . SCP-599 does not appear on any map of the 
region, nor do any of the roads leading to it. 


SCP-599 was classified as an SCP when it became known to the 
Foundation that every inhabitant of the city matched the description 
and name of a person reported missing from a nearby city in the last 
ten years. When questioned, all subjects insisted that they had 
always lived in SCP-599, before invariably adding that they were 
"always looking for new neighbors." All Foundation personnel who 
enter SCP-599 are strongly encouraged by the inhabitants to 
purchase a house in SCP-599. Refusal is ultimately met with 
hostility, though so far, no incidents of violence have been reported. 


Addendum: Personal log of Agent (codename: Agent 
Apocalemur) 


Lt 
Day 1 
Arrived in the mysterious city of . This city does not appear on 
any map, and the roads leading to it are all unmarked. The 
Foundation has decided to classify as an SCP. | have been 


15-11-2012 


The air was still as snow fell upon a forest clearing outside of Minsk. 
Here and there a few dead tuffs of grass would appear above the 
powder, but otherwise the blanket of snow was pristine. At the 
center was a single, black, pine coffin with a white orthodox cross 
adorning its lid. 


By the clearing’s edge stood two men and one woman. Each turned 
to the others in silence before one, a tall man with a chin coated with 
a thick layer of stubble, nodded for them to continue. They were 
Researcher Lee, Researcher Hastings and Agent Navarro. The date 
was November 15th, 2012. SCP-1760-16 had returned. 


Normally, 1760-16 was identical to other 1760 instances save for the 
name Pyotr Astapenov etched onto the lid. This year, however, 
twelve additional names were present. Each one belonged to a 
prominent anartist on the Foundation’s watch list. It was for this 
reason Agent Navarro, anart specialist, now found himself in 
Belarus. 


As they approached the casket, a loud scratching sound could be 
heard. They stopped moving and watched as a single name 
appeared etched onto the lid below the others. 


Daniel Navarro 


“That's... really unsettling.” Researcher Lee commented as she 
eyed Navarro. Her feet refused to carry her closer. 


“This is the first time one of the instances has been externally 
altered. | don’t like this at all.” Researcher Hastings also kept his 
distance. “What do you think, Navarro?” 


“Keep to the plan,” Navarro replied. “We're safe if we don’t open the 
box.” He coolly gestured for the researchers to proceed. 


Without another word the two researchers went to work. With the 
same level of care one might use to clean a glass figurine, they 
measured, listened, and recorded. Navarro stood at the ready, hand 
on his pistol as he looked for calamity to strike. As the researchers 
worked the casket remained silent. 


Eventually, all requested data had been collected. 1760-16 had 
failed to produce little more than a creak the entire time. The 
researchers and agents stepped back and looked upon the coffin 
quizzically. 


“This is it?” Lee’s chuckle faded into a frown. “Just names engraved 
onto the lid?” 


“It would appear so,” Hastings nervously giggled. “I guess we just 
wait for the 20th now.” 


Navarro nodded in agreement. One by one, each made their way 
back to the nearby facility. Before heading through the door, Agent 
Navarro gave one last look back at the coffin. His eyes glanced over 
the white cross that adorned its lid. He felt the coffin staring back. 
Navarro quietly shivered and turned away, closing the door behind 
him. 


The next four days came and went without incident. Unfortunately, 
this made the site personnel more and more uneasy the closer 
November 20th came. The night of the 19th was by far the worst. 
Few in the facility could sleep. The rest were fixated on the sword of 
Damocles sitting in the front yard. 


This is how Agent Navarro found himself walking towards the 
clearing at 11:15 PM. The thick trees appeared to twist around him 
in the dark as he slowly crept through the snow. As he approached 
the clearing’s edge, three security officers emerged from the trees. 
Their hands tightly gripped their guns as they moved to intercept the 
intruder. Upon seeing it was Navarro, the officers frowned, but 
waved him through with a nod. 


For a few moments Navarro stood motionless at the edge of the 
clearing. The moonlight illuminated the snow and cast a white glow 


on the waiting coffin. By its side, Navarro could make out the 
silhouette of a woman. He could feel his hand reach for his pistol as 
he approached, but relaxed after seeing that it was just Researcher 
Lee. 


“Couldn't sleep?” he asked. 


“What... what are you doing out here?” Researcher Lee, gasping, 
turned on the spot. 


“| could ask you the same thing,” Navarro replied with a small smile. 
“This thing really has everyone on edge, doesn’t it?” 


“You can’t blame them.” Lee turned back to face the coffin as she 
whispered. She was there in 2006. She remembered how a pig 
carcass erupted from 1760-16 and exploded in a shower of human 
bones. One of her colleague’s heads had been pierced by half a 
femur. A piece of rib had left a deep gash in her right thigh. They 
remained silent for several minutes before Navarro placed a hand 
on her shoulder. Lee shivered. 


“You can’t help but feel the shit is going to hit the fan in the next few 
seconds. Even if they brought a specialist out to ensure all goes 
well.” Lee nervously smiled. “No offense.” 


“None taken,” Navarro said with a shrug. “To be honest I’m not sure 
what they exactly thought | could do out here. Normally I’m assigned 
to deal with anart threats, but this object didn’t really give me that 
‘anart feel’ when | read its file.” 


“Well, it was on display when we found it,” Lee replied. “Someone 
wanted others to see their work.” 


“Maybe, | mean it does have a ‘hey look at this cool thing’ quality to 
it. But, pig bombs...” 


“The 1760-16’s didn’t appear until after we started containing this 
site, though...” Lee looked at her watch. It was now 11:30 PM. 
1760-16 would be gone in 30 minutes. 


“| can stand watch if you want to head back and try to get some 
sleep,” Navarro said with a smile. Without a word she returned his 


smile with a nod. Lee then began to make her way back towards the 
facility. 


Navarro turned back to the casket. He waved to the several nearby 
security cameras before taking a seat on the grass as he waited 
alone. Fifteen minutes passed. The silence was unbreakable. 


“Hello, Daniel,” a male voice whispered from the coffin. 


“Shit!” Navarro jumped to his feet. A shard of ice ran up his spine as 
he drew his pistol. The security officer were quick to run to his side, 
but stopped when Navarro held up his hand for them to stand down. 


“Frightened, are we?” The voice softly chuckled. It spoke English but 
had a very thick eastern European accent. 


“Hello there, | guess...” Navarro’s eyes narrowed as he held his gun 
steady. “Who the hell are you?” 


“In a prior life | was known as Pyotr Astapenov. | was a skilled 
mortician, a respected scientist, and a gentleman. If you would be so 
kind as to open the lid, you may see for yourself.” The voice 
whispered. 


“There is no way in hell that’s going to happen,” Navarro replied. 
“There was nothing anomalous about Pyotr when we poked around 
his grave. You've got a huge hole in your story, pal.” 


“| was afraid you might say that,” the voice sighed. “They've really 
changed you. Your curiosity has been replaced with certainty. What 
a shame.” 


“You sure know a lot about me considering we just met,” Navarro 
said. 


“Because | know your breed,” the voice whispered. “You're an artist. 
They may have you dress in a suit, hand you a gun, and ask you to 
apprehend your brethren, Daniel, but you are still an artist at heart. 
One with a heavily compromised sense of morality, mind you, but an 
artist all the same.” 


“| don’t understand,” said Navarro. “Where are on earth are you 


going with this?” 


“My point is that you don’t want to open this casket to catalogue it 
like a scientist. You recognize the importance not only in expression, 
but expression in a manner that is truly unique. I’ve met plenty of 
men like you, and can guess that it’s torturing you to not know 
what’s inside this coffin.” 


The security officers looked at Navarro nervously. All seemed to 
hold their breath waiting for Navarro’s response. 


“ve got a pretty good idea what’s in your box,” Navarro replied. 
“Sorry champ, but I’m not opening it.” 


“So sure of yourself yet again,” the voice said. “Are you afraid that | 
am just some horror waiting to be let out of my cage? Or, that | just 
might be Pyotr after all?” 


“Fuck it. I’m not going to play this game with you.” Navarro shook his 
head. “What | do saves the lives of both anartists and civilians. If 
that makes me a sell-out, so be it. I’ll be the biggest sell out ever.” 
Without another word he took a few steps back and looked at his 
watch. 11:55 PM. 


“So be it...” the voice said. There was a crack like a shotgun blast. 
All of the nails that kept the coffin lid sealed flew out of the wood. 
Navarro and the security officers readied their weapons. Their eyes 
widened as the coffin lid creaked open. 


It was empty. 


“It must truly be troubling to have sold your soul as you have, Daniel. 
Regardless of what you say to yourself to allow you to sleep at night, 
you have sold your soul. It is a shame. You had such promise,” the 
voice called from inside. 


Navarro didn’t respond. The last few moments passed in silence. 
Upon the stroke of midnight the casket began to sink into the earth, 
eventually vanishing into the ground. 


“Christ...” Navarro let out a heavy sigh, and sat back down on the 
ground to gaze at the sky. The report for this was going to bea 


nightmare.