A quick search of his desk drawers completely failed to yield 
evidence of any tape recorders or other such devices. Jesus, 
perhaps he'd been working too hard lately. He had been under a lot 
of stress, true, but he was used to stress by now, surely? Still... 
working in site 19 could get to anyone after a while. "Wonderful", he 
muttered, "Now I'm hearing things". 


"You sure are, Don - you have AMAZING hearing! Just look at those 
ears of yours - the very pinnacle of creation's work and no mistake! 
Why, | bet you could hear a gnat piss into a hurricane from a 
hundred miles away with those beauties!" 


Ferreiro fought down a wave of panic as his eyes sought out the 
source of this bizarre flattery. "Alright, wh..who are you and where 
are you hiding?" he demanded. 


"Relax, Don, you'll find me. That impressive brain of yours isn't going 
to take long to work out where | am! Just follow the sound of my 
voice! YODEL-AY- YODEL-AY-YODEL-AY-HEE-HOO! YODEL-AY- 
YODEL-AY-YOD.." 


"Enough!" cried Ferreiro, covering his ears with his hands to block 
out the piercing ululations. "You've had your fun, just tell me where 
you are and | promise not to file a complaint with Dr. Bright's office!" 


"Hah! Like a rough-and-ready, no-nonsense hombre like yourself 
needs to go running to some other doctor for help! Oh Don, your 
incredible wit knows no bounds. But seriously though, | don't want to 
make you angry - I'm in the box! Come and check me out!" 


Ferreiro felt the hairs begin to rise on the back of his neck. Sure 
enough, the voice did seem to be coming from the long, rectangular 


box on his desk. His hands shaking like a Class D on nerve toxins, 
he gingerly broke the seal and raised the lid. Lying there in front of 
him, snugly contained in its packaging, was an ornate sword. He 
was no expert in weaponry, but it looked very much like the replica 
katana he had purchased for his son's 16th birthday, back when his 
family still lived with him. Although the only source of light in his 
office was the sterile neon bulb mounted on the ceiling, the blade 
glinted as if struck by a brief flicker of sunlight. 


"Found me! I knew you would, though. There's no hiding from the 
Donimator! Right, Don?" 


The hapless scientist recoiled in alarm at the sword's cheerful, 
steely voice. 


"Holy Mary mother of Thor!" he exclaimed incorrectly, "You... you 
can talk?" 


"Sure | can, Don! But only to people worth talking to, like yourself. 
You see, you're special, Don. Really, really special. There's no one 
else in the entire universe like you - you think anyone else would be 
able to hear a sword talk?" 


Ferreiro had to concede it had a point. 


"You have a great destiny ahead of you Don. You ever hear the 
legend of King Arthur and his sword Excalibur?" 


"You.. you mean you're..." 


"Correct! I'm a sword just like Excalibur was! And I'm all yours, Don. 
Go on, pick me up - try me out! You'll soon see we were made for 
each other!" 


His mind reeling with the shock of this discovery, Professor Ferreiro 
reached into the box and wrapped his fingers around the handle. 
Some part of his subconscious began to scream at him, telling him 
there was something he was supposed to remember - something 
important - but it was immediately drowned out by the feeling of raw 
power coursing through his arm. Although he could barely tell the 
difference between a bastard sword and a butter knife, he marvelled 


at the exquisite balance and weight of the katana. He felt strong and 
capable - confident, even! For the first time in years, he felt there 
was nothing he could not do. The world was his oyster, and he could 
crack it open and steal the pearls any time he wanted! 


"Whoa, easy on the grip there, Mighty One! I'm the sturdiest blade 
you ever will see, but that super strength of yours could grind me 
into dust!" 


Ferreiro loosened his grip slightly - of course, how could he not have 
known that? He was a TITAN! 


"Phew, thanks! Okay, boss, try me out - give me a little whirl!" 


Ferreiro swung the katana around in a clumsy semi circle, knocking 
over his stack of paperwork and smashing his mug into little ceramic 
pieces. Part of him knew he'd only done so by accident, but it felt 
right - like that had been his intention all along. He smiled, and this 
time it wasn't a thin, mournful little smile but a full fledged, ear-to-ear 
grin of triumph! 


"OH HELL YEAH, DON! Look at us go! Did you see what we did to 
that mug? There is NOTHING we can't do! Nothing YOU can't do! 
All those years of working for other people when they're not even fit 
to lick the ground you walk on! Well, NOW they'll know who the real 
master is!" 


"Yeah!" Ferreiro cheered, "NOW they'll know"! 
He paused. 
"It's Gears, right?" 


"Hahaha, oh Don, you're the funniest, most talented man in the 
universe! No, of course it's not Gears - it's YOU, Don! You should be 
running this place by now! All those punk kids and worthless 
labcoats ordering you around, treating you like dirt - it's not on! And 
did you see how disorganised this place has become without you at 
the helm? You know the kind of dangerous, extinction-level events 
this place is supposed to contain, and yet it's run by the kind of 
people who won't even promote the most intelligent man who ever 


lived! No, Don, this place is too important not to be yours. | think it's 
time you promoted yourself, don't you?" 


Donald Ferreiro, PhD, Clearance Level 1, Smartest Man Who Ever 
Lived, did think it was time he promoted himself. He'd never thought 
he'd really deserved it before, but then he'd never noticed how 
awesome... how badass he was before! It all made sense now. 


His mind was made up. 
He was going to take site 19 by force. 


Hoisting the blade into what he knew was an extremely effective 
combat-ready position, he leapt to his feet and strode purposefully 
towards the door as bits of fluorescent light rained down around him. 
"YES! THE TIME OF VENGEANCE IS AT HAND!" screamed the 
blade, "GO ON, DON, KICK THE DOOR DOWN! SHOW THEM 
YOU MEAN BUSINESS!". His face set in an expression of grim 
determination, Don raised his leg and slammed the heel of his foot 
into the lock. There was a satisfying crack as the door completely 
failed to burst open in an explosion of reinforced metal. A crippling 
pain shot up his leg and a feeling of nausea overwhelmed him as 
the source of the cracking sound became apparent. 


"Whoa-ho-ho! Look at that, chief! You've managed to shatter the 
bones of the universe's most powerful man! Only YOU could have 
done that, Don! Well done! You're so dangerous! I'm glad we're on 
the same side here! Now come on, let's go share the pain with those 
ungrateful bastards who employ you!" 


Four more door kicks, half an hour's fighting-back-the-pain, and a 
reluctant barcode scan later, The Right Honourable Professor 
Donald Ferreiro, PhD, Clearance Level whatever-he-damn-well- 
chose, Smartest Man Who Ever Lived and God Amongst Men 
hobbled into the clean, empty hallway outside his office. "SITE 
NINETEEN", he bellowed weakly, "| AM YOUR NEW MASTER - 
AND YOU'RE ALL FIRED!" 


"That's telling 'em, Don! Now find us some meat!" 


Ignoring the pain of his broken foot and howling obscenities at an 


01@13:08 


01@13:09 


01@13:43 


01@23:26 


02@00:00 


02@16:04 


03@00:00 


wood pulp, sucrose solution and 
water. 

Personnel D-334 enters chamber 
to top off contents of steel 
buckets. Prior to this time, 
specimens had not engaged in 
activity other than feeding on 
wood pulp and sucrose solution, 
and breeding. D-334 inadvertently 
fails to retrieve steel paper clip 
that falls from her shirt pocket 
while refilling buckets. 

A number of specimens of 
SCP-831 advance toward the 
paper clip, then carry ittoa 
corner of the room where 
specimens of SCP-831 
commence aitering It. 

Paper clip is repurposed as 
scraping implement. Specimens 
commence scraping floor and 
walls of chamber and retreiving 
metal and paint filings. 
Scrapings result in a small pile of 
metal filings (no more than 10 
grams). 

Due to reproduction, chamber 
observed to contain 
approximately 2,500 live 
specimens of SCP-837. 

Size of piling of metal filings 
estimated at approximately 400 
grams. Paint chips and scrapings 
are accumulated in separate pile. 
Some specimens of SCP-831 
observed to engage in 
mastication of metal scrapings 
and paint scrapings. 

Chamber observed to contain 
approximately 5,000 live 


uncaring world, he rounded the nearest corner and came face to 
face with his nemesis. 


"Ah, Fernando!" Doctor Gordon said, "| was just coming to check on 
you and see if you'd managed to deliver that... oh my, is that 572 
you're holding? You know you're not supposed to - " 


"FOOLISH WRETCH""", Ferreiro screamed, eyes wide, veins 
bulging, "YOU... HAVE... NO... POWER... OVER ME!!" 


Gordon ducked as 572's dull blade swung over his scalp, missing 
him by a good half meter and causing a small dent in the overhead 
piping. Thrown completely off balance by this failed decapitation, 
Ferreiro soun awkwardly on his injured heel and collapsed to the 
floor as once more the pain overwhelmed his senses. Recognising a 
long-suffering scientist with a flipped switch when he saw one, 
Doctor Gordon scrambled to a nearby alarm panel and hit the button 
marked "Containment Breach". 


"He's calling for backup, Don, don't let him get away with it! They'll 
be here any minute - FINISH HIM! Come on! On your feet! Get up! 
You can do it!" 


572's voice continued to shout its encouragement as Ferreiro 
mustered all his will and pulled himself up onto his feet again. 


"Don't be an idiot, man!" shouted Gordon as he backed away down 
the hall, "This place will be swarming with agents any second now! 
You can't win!" 


"| am winning", snarled Ferreiro as the facility-wide alarm klaxons 
echoed through the corridor. "/'m the guy with the unstoppable 
blade!" 


True to his predictions, the security team arrived in record time as 
Gordon fled past them. Six Kevlar-armoured SCP agents, their 
features hidden by the black visors of their helmets, came to a halt 
at the end of the corridor and raised their standard issue firearms. 
Ferreiro knew less about guns than he did about swords, but even 
he knew that the type of ammo and the range of the weapon meant 
nothing at such a short distance. For the first time since he'd 


decided to elevate his position, he began to feel a bit uncertain. 


"Don't worry Don - they might have the firearms, but you have me! 
With my strength and your skill, we can stop every bullet they fire! 
Now let's show them what you're made of!" 


His fears allayed, he swung the blade in a crude figure-of-eight, 
barely noticing the wet smacking noise his severed thumb made as 
it hit the tiled flooring. He damn well would show these bastards 
what he was made of! Unleashing 13 years worth of impotent rage 
in a single scream, he limped as fast as he could towards the 
security team, swirling 572 in whichever direction felt best at the 
time. 


The security team, being well trained, released a volley of hot metal. 
But Ferreiro was ready. Flicking his blade from side to side, as if the 
bullets were little more than flies to be swatted, he continued his 
advance. Out of the 18 bullets fired, only two made it to the far wall 
behind him. 


"That was AMAZING, Don!"572 exclaimed triumphantly, "16 bullets 
stopped cold! And you didn't even need me at all! You truly are The 
One, Don! You're the greatest!" 


Ferreiro looked down at his bullet-riddled torso, noting with 
detachment the shattered bone and distended muscle poking 
through his wounds. Moments later, when it realised what had 
happened, his body went into shock and he collapsed on the cold 
hard floor, bleeding profusely in every shade of red. 572 clattered 
onto the floor beside him, cackling playfully and singing his praises. 


As the alarms went silent and the world began to fade from him, 
Donald Ferreiro, PhD, Security Clearance Terminated, was aware of 
a friendly voice singing "Wow, look at that blood! The blood of a 
king, that is! You really did show them what you're made of! You're 
the greatest, Don! The greatest!" 


Don smiled. 


He was the greatest. 


Don't Blink 


It's going to be my fault. When it happens, it's going to be my own 
goddamned fault. Every single time | blink it gets closer and closer 
to me, and every time | blink is just driving another nail into my 
coffin. Why couldn't they have shot me, or stabbed me, or done 
anything but put me in here with this thing? 


| don't even know what | did wrong. You don't really expect to go to 
prison under false charges, and you especially don't expect some 
goons to take you out and put you in a room with a monster. Didn't 
even have the decency to let me move around. They chained me up 
to the walls so tight that | can barely turn my head. Then they 
walked out and just left me to whatever this thing will do to me. 


Oh, why am | thinking "whatever it'll do?" It's going to kill me; | just 
don't know how. 


| wish | could at least fight back against this. Lash out at it in some 
way. But | think it wants me to do that. Everything just feels a million 
times worse whenever | rattle the chains or shout at it. So all | can 
do is hang here and wait for it to kill me. 


Dammit, if you're going to kill me, hurry up! | can't stand this! Death 
by inches. | blink and it's a little closer, and then a little closer, and 
then a little closer, and then... 


No. No no no no NO! It can't possibly move that fast, | still had a few 
good hours! Goddammit, it's right in front of me! Dear lord, what is 
that stuff on it? Too dark to make it out, but it looks like some sort of 
crudely painted face. Could just be blotches on the thing, but it looks 
way too much like a face. Dammit, | can deal with a shapeless thing, 
why'd it have to have a face? 


Don't blink. There's a way out of this, some weak link in the chains, 
some means of kicking this thing away; maybe if I'm lucky, | can 
twist away and let it go right by me! No, that's stupid, it'd never work. 


Level head, you've got to keep a level head. | can beat this thing, | 
can outlast it, | can get out of here so long as | don't...! 


Why am | still alive? 


| don't believe it. | simply do not believe it. It... it went around me. It 
was practically pressed against me, and it went around. How lucky 
do you have to be for that to happen? Does this mean I'm done? Are 
they going to come in here, "Sorry for the trouble, but hey, you're still 
alive," and then let me go? Can | go back to my life now, no, wait, 
before you answer, why did you put me through that, what the hell 
was that thing, why am | still alive? 


Dear God, I'm tired. How long have they had me chained up in 
here? A few hours, at least. Maybe a day. But... | have to stay 
awake. I've got to keep my eyes open until they come and get me. 
Sleep is the absolute last thing | need right now. 


| went to sleep. Why'd | go to sleep, sleep could kill me, why didn't | 
have a strong enough head to stay awake? 


There's a cold feeling on the small of my back. | can't twist to see it, 
but | can tell something is there. And... oh God, no. There's 
something wrapped around my throat. | could twitch my head 
before, but | can't even move it now. This thing is going to break my 
neck, isn't it? That's what they were waiting for, wasn't it? They 
wanted this thing to wear me down until | had to sleep, and then 
they'd have it stop fooling around and kill me. 


What kind of sick, twisted bastard do you have to be just to see how 
long a guy can last against a monster?