20 cm in diameter with the words "Last Chance Diner" printed on the 
edges in white. A small piece has been chipped out of one edge of 
the plate, just above the letter D. There are no manufacturer's 
marks, and to date, all efforts to find the restaurant in question have 
failed. 


SCP-807 transmutes any food served upon it into a variation of its 
original form with high concentrations of fat, sodium, and 
cholesterol. Once transmuted, the food in question is enhanced in 
flavor and aroma to preternatural levels, to the point where the 
desire to consume said food becomes nearly irresistible. Anyone 
who does consume said food, however, will undergo cardiac arrest 
within five minutes of finishing their meal, due to sudden and 
massive fatty buildup in the major arteries. In some cases, 
immediate bypass surgery has been shown to be effective in saving 
the life of a subject. 


Addendum 807-A: Recorded Transmutations 


there, even when we got a message from Cassandra or 
Capone, Sara would scream at them, asking why they 
were following us and begged for us to be left alone. 


We felt helpless against them. All we felt we could do is 
just sit in the bathroom, and hope they would go away. 
The room felt like our only safe haven until... We were 
exposed to them for too long. Sara started to panic, 
saying that she kept seeing one of them behind her. | 
wasn't seeing it though. | was more concerned about 
trying to calm her down by telling her that maybe they 
weren't really there than | was about seeing Capone in 
the mirror. 


| convinced Sara that we needed to leave the room out 
of necessity. We couldn't stay in the apartment forever, 
and if they wanted to get us, they would have done so 
already. We called the police and... Here we are. 


We both got help, but | was the lucky one. Everyone's 
case was different in terms of interaction, but for me, 
Capone was always in a mirror or some reflective thing 
large enough to show him. He was predictable, and | 
could find ways to block him out when | needed it. 


| learned how to expect Capone, and after a while, he 
kind of grew on me. | used to have a makeshift curtain 
that | would pull over the mirrors when | didn't want to 
see him, but | started using that curtain less and less as 
time went on. 


Capone always seemed to try and interact with me, even 
if | didn't understand what he was trying to say most of 
the time. | started to greet Capone with a casual wave as 
| passed by him from the living room mirror, and 
eventually, he started to wave back. He kind of became 
a constant companion to me, and | adjusted to Capone 
just as he adjusted to me. 


My case wasn't as severe as Sara's. She saw 
Cassandra every where she looked. Around every 


corner, just out of sight, over her while she slept. Sara 
took her own life two years ago. | wanted to blame the 
MalOs for it, but | can't. Following the person who looks 
at their messages is just... what they do. Now, every 
time | see Capone, I'm reminded of what | did in the car 
that day. | knew | shouldn't have picked up that text. If | 
didn't, she would still be here. 


It was almost four hours since William started writing, but he almost 
felt relieved. He's never actually told anyone about this in such detail 
before; the majority of what happened was kept between himself 
and Capone. He looked up to the creature in the mirror from across 
the room for a few seconds, as it gave the old, familiar wave. 


William was silent for a minute, staring at Capone, and then back to 
his papers. He felt the need to make one last point. 


But then again, how would | have known? | don't know 
who made the MalOs, or why. | don't even know if 
anyone actually made the app; many things like it have 
been created naturally, or have been given some kind of 
anomaly out of sheer chance. It would make so much 
sense if some physical thing was to blame, but there's 
none that | can legitimately find: none on the MalOs, 
none on me; just on chance. 


Care for You 


The wall-shaking cacophony from the room upstairs ceased. A few 
seconds later, Daniel, Rene's calico, came barreling down the stairs 
and settled quickly at Riven's feet with a purr. Which meant that she 
wasn't too far behind, since she never let Dan out of her room while 
she was practicing - she even brought the litterbox in from the 
bathroom. However, it took a couple of minutes for her to finally 
appear at the top of the stairs, and Riven had picked his book back 
up in the meantime. When she finally did appear, her descent was 
slow; she averted eye contact, and Riven didn't push it. Her hands 
buried deep in the pockets of a grey hoodie, she walked into the 
kitchen. Riven could hear a cup being filled with water from the 
refrigerator, and Daniel got up and after a moment and followed the 
sound. After she returned, Daniel at her feet, she walked over and 
sat on the couch across the living room from Riven. After a minute of 
sitting silently, she watching the coffee table with her left foot on her 
right knee, sipping cool water, he pretending to continue reading but 
in truth worrying what could be wrong, she lowered her left to the 
floor, pulled a coaster off of the side table and set her glass upon it, 
sat up straight and spoke. 


"I’m feeling really badly about my music." Riven placed his book to 
his side on the couch and looked at Rene. 


"Really? Well, I’ve told you before, and | stand by it now, that your 
music is really something special, Ren. | haven't heard anything like 
it." A pause, but Riven knew not to continue - that she took her time 
while formulating her thoughts. 

"Thanks, and | Know that...Mm, that | should just do what | feel, and 
that that's what makes art move forward, you know? And that a lot of 
amazing artists aren't appreciated in their time...so, | shouldn't 
expect immediate reception to reflect how my art will be seen in the 
long run." 


"Mhm. Absolutely." 


"But | guess it's...Well, | Know it is...hard sometimes. Like, today, we 
had some time in Music Appreciation, and | had asked Mrs. Sands if 
| could play the class a recording of one of my songs that I'm putting 
on my album. And, you know, | figured it would be safe since it's 
Music Appreciation! So | played it, and, well, you know, it was 
‘Cassie's Song,’ and you know how much work, how many hours | 
put into even mixing it, and | thought | had gotten it just right to, you 
know, like, show off the really basic instrumental makeup that | 
used, and how it had been subverted to allow for a lighter 
atmosphere, and more of, like, a cerebral and introspective feel 
that's really hard to achieve with those instruments. And, like, | even 
explained that a little bit to the class, but no one liked it. | mean, of 
course Jon and Philly liked it, but you know that both of them have 
made stuff with me before, and that we all share music between the 
three of us, with Phis and Adsen. The thing that made me feel the 
worst though was the look that Mrs. Sands gave me. | mean, she's 
teaching Music Appreciation, and she gave me this look while the 
song was playing like 'You really wanted to share this?’ It really 
makes me feel like I'm never going to find people that appreciate 
what | make." Rene used her fourth and pinky fingers to brush aside 
her auburn hair and scratch her right temple. She had begun tapping 
her foot unconsciously while she was talking, and, looking down, 
stopped. After a while, Riven looked up to her and spoke: 


"I've got a story from back when | worked with your dad and Oliver 
at the Foundation. | know that you don’t like hearing those stories 
sometimes, but would you mind hearing this one? It's one | haven't 
told before, and | think it might help." 


"Sure, of course, if you think it'll help. Usually the reason that | don’t 
like those stories is because the Foundation gives me a bad 
feeling...it just seems like worse times, ya know? Can | turn the 
lights off though? They're giving me a headache." Rene sat up, 
walked over, switched the overhead lights off, and took a seat next 
to Riven, leaning her head on his right shoulder. Riven consciously 
cleared his throat like he always did when he was about to share a 
story - it just felt right. 


"Well, it was the second year that | had worked in my own labs, 
which was about seven years before my job kind of became, uh, 


null, you know, and so | was scrambling around as usual, trying to 
keep people safe, early, early in the morning. Probably about 5:30. | 
remember it was a Monday because | was quite excited about one 
of the items that was in our cache for the week. If | remember 
correctly it had some element of instantaneous transportation, and 
those were always some of my favorites. 


"So I'm doing the routine scramble, and I'm breathlessly 
approaching our office, and | notice that the door is ajar, which is 
worrying because the only other person that works in there is 
Researcher Milen, and he’s terribly punctual: 7 AM, every day, no 
exceptions. So, even though | know | may have just left it ajar from 
the night before, ‘cause in those days almost every night was a late 
night, | approach cautiously - no, it wasn't silly of me. You need to 
remember this is pre-CC, and where | was working. We needed to 
stay alert. So | move very slowly along the wall, and | get right 
outside the door to peek in, and there's a woman standing in there. 


"She's all bloodied up, clothes all torn, panting all breathless, and 
she's looking all over the place really panicked. She turns, and it 
seems like she's planning on running out of the room, but she sees 
me, and I'm deer-in-the-headlights at this point, and she starts 
rambling about cars. An endless stream of strange comments and 
negations on the features of cars! 'Cars cannot travel through time!’ 
‘Cars serve people! 'Cars don't want to find me! 'Cars are made by 
people!’ And as she keeps talking she starts to calm down, and she 
gets this ethereal look on her face, of just...oure joy. I've never seen 
such pure joy, - well, when your father and | saw you for the first 
time I'm sure it was the same. Well, soon enough her panting is 
sounding a lot more like sighs of relief. By this time, though, I've hit 
the button on the inside of my coat that summons security, and I'm 
sure they were on their way anyways, thinking back - cameras on 
every corner. She got sedated right off the bat, taken, questioned, 
and then - | later learned - given some strong amnestics and turned 
away. | asked for a transcript of the interview, and shared it with 
Mark and Oliver, and Aunt Zyn too, and they didn't believe it at all, 
and apparently neither did the higher-ups, or I'm sure we wouldn't 
have just given her amnestics and thrown her away...Or maybe we 
would have. Those were strange days... 


"She claimed she was from another time. That in whatever world 
she came from, which she swore was ours, there was an extra- 
dimensional threat to humankind called cars. That they pervaded the 
conscious space of all people, that they tormented them, drove them 
mad. | mean, really incredible, scary stuff. | think I've still got a copy 
of the transcript in the attic if you'd like to read it. | don't do the story 
justice. Well, anywho, she told us that she was a mercenary who 
wielded the power to change the cars with statements on their 
nature, as long as such statements had a listening ear, but that 
there was no one left to hear her. She spent many years digging 
through the ancient, abandoned archives of a group she called ‘The 
Candlebearers.' How she managed to survive that long is left to our 
imagination. The interviewer never asked. Finally, she finds 
something, she finds some object that she thinks may help, one of 
many I’m sure, but this one truly is the one, and, through some 
interaction, she winds up in Oliver's and my office. 


"So...even now, no one believes that this woman was anything but 
mad. She got her mind wiped. She got kicked out on the streets of a 
nearby town. And that's how it was. But you know what | think?" A 
smile made its way across Rene's face in the dim light that came 
through the door to the kitchen. 


"| think so, but | want to hear you Say it." Riven smiled too. 


"| believe that she saved the world. Existence. | believe that without 
her, we wouldn't be here. 


"So, what I'm trying to say is that” Riven ran his fingers through his 
hair, contemplating how to go on “no matter... what some people 
think, know that you'll find someone to listen to you, to hear your 
voice, to hear your message. To hear you. You're saving the world, 
Ren." 


Rene took a deep breath and kicked up from her spot on the couch. 
A smile once again spread across her face. She looked down on 
Riven. 

"Hm." Walking towards the stairs, Rene flipped on the lights. "Do 
you know when Dad's gonna be home?" 


"Pretty soon, I'd say." 


"Alright. Thanks, Dad." And with that, Rene ran up the stairs, Daniel 
in hot pursuit. Riven returned to his book. Shortly thereafter, the 
cacophony started up once more, and the walls shook a little harder. 


Peo: 


Later that night, Riven dug through a box of his old 
paperwork; the light from the avenue filtered through the 
attic window and a brass lamp that he had plugged in 
near the entrance lent him the light he needed. There it 
was. "Interview AxC-5466-M: Interview with Pol 'Rene 
Guilder’ Regarding Infiltration of Restricted Area K-2" 


Carlysle Aktus is a prickly bastard (AN: high school AU) 


AN: im writing this becaus | dont like how carlisles route is handled 
in the gamme. u basically only get 2 be friends with him and i think 
es really awsome so im writing this story to show how it should be 
reallu. 


SCP VN is normally in site 19 but i think highscool of cheyenne point 
is better place to set it because everyone can idtenfitywith highscool 
relly well and im in highschool so i want to.-yoric the snek// 


YORIC the highschool student was very nervous on his first day of 
school. He had just moved to cheyenne point from Pheonix arizona 
to cheyenne point he had wanted to move for a while because this 
was where his dad (Agent Dimitri Strelnilkov) lived. he had wanted 
to get away from the halls of his fenix arizona highschool for so long. 
now he had a chance- to go live with his father, russian strongman 
and secrit agent strelnikov. the man who strangeled a whale with his 
bear hands. 


wen yoric arrived at cheyenne point, location of the highschool, 
sisters of cheyenne point, the famouse SCP FOUNDATION feeder 
school that created such agents as agent dr imants and doctor 
professor imants, the famous wonde twins, strelnikov ment him at 
the small airport that servicesd the area. 


Strelnikov said in his deep russian voice and thick accent "Hello 
Yoric my son it is good to see you alive and well. Are you here to be 
trained as russian like al amn?:" 


Yoric said "no father iam here to attend South Cheyenne Point 
Highschool" but then strelnikov boomed "GOOD! WE WILL START 
TRAINING IMMEDIAT" 


and so they left to hgo to strelnikov';s lodge. there over the course of 
a year yoric learned how 2 throw knives and do flips and stuff. he 
could sneak through a moonless night as quiet as a snake who 


slithered and shit. anyway, one day he was drinking vodka with 
strelnikov on the proch. his was watered down to like 40%. he said 
"father i want to go to school." 

strelnikov was silent for al ong time and then he said 


"Da." 
So yoric went to school. 
Part 2: 


yoric was stunned the first day he saw carlyse actus. That straw 
blond flyaway hair. the softness of his skin. the way his eyes would 
defocus in class nd the teacxher would be like "carlysle!" and he 
would be like "what?"