When worn by a human subject, SCP-2100-J will cause said subject 
to narrate surrounding events as they transpire. Subjects invariably 
prove unwilling or unable to cease this narration, in most cases 
being unaware of its occurrence. Narration is done in the form of 
internal monologue (albeit vocalized), usually pessimistic in tone and 
language used, comparable to that of 1920's Crime-Noir literature 
and early 1950's Film-Noir motion pictures. [See Test Log 2100- 
J-12] While wearing SCP-2100-J individuals have shown 
heightened violent responses in reaction to negative stimuli, often 
resulting in physical conflict with other humans and (in some cases) 
with animals. Upon removal, the narratory effects of SCP-2100-J 
dissipate, resulting in a partial lack of memory in subjects regarding 
events which occurred while SCP-2100-J was worn. It should be 
noted however, that the attractive properties of SCP-2100-J do not 
dissipate following removal of the item unless a large (upwards of 
300m) distance is put between the item and subject. 


+ Test Log 2100-J-12 


Test Log 2100-J-12: The following is a transcript of the 
vocalized narration spoken by D-929181 while under the 
effects of SCP-2100-J. All narration was given during a 
standard series of tests to ascertain the mental effects 
caused by SCP-2100-J on the subject. 


<Begin Log> 
[D-929181 receives initial instructions from Dr. J 


D-929181: "The dame wore hazmat. I'd never been a 
clever guy, but the lady was throwing out more danger 
signals than a barbed sex-doll. She pulled a face like 
she'd smelt something bad on me, maybe she had. Not 
much time for showers in this godforsaken place. She 
was talking about tests or something. Tests? Hope she 
didn't expect me to do any math, the only thing | could 
add these days were entries to the obituary column. | 
coughed, but she had already stopped talking. Was like 
she could read my mind. Last time I'd thought about that 
kind of thing was when | was twelve, at one of those old 
circuses, big family fun kinda things. Fortuneteller told 
me I'd be a lawyer. | guess | did lay down the law." 


[D-929181 is instructed to write a short paragraph 
regarding his current situation] 


D-929181: "Bitch was mocking me now, acting like I'm 
some brain-dead chimp who couldn't string a few 
sentences together. Guess I'd been right with the danger 
signals, unlike that time in Atlanta. Bastard had stabbed 
me twice in the hand before | had taken him down. I'd 
used my shoe to do it, beat him till he was a smear of 
ketchup on the burned meat of the sidewalk. | had shoes 
on now, nice and sturdy. | prepped myself to get up and 
try to take her down, but her gun was already pointed at 
me. Goddamn fortunetellers. | played her game, wrote 
down a nice little summary of my current situation. 
Probably pleased her as much as a skinned dog, | knew 


her kind. They liked to see you twitch and suffer, 
especially when all the skin's gone. A nice distraction if 
you can manage to get enough free time and 
somewhere to keep the meat hidden. Goddamn sadist." 


[D-929181 is instructed to walk the length of the room 
several times] 


D-929181: "Had a good opportunity to stretch my legs, 
and | took it. The walls and floor of the room were whiter 
than a Ku Klux Klan member trapped in a paint factory. 
Except the guard, he wore black. Bastard had a broken 
nose, and broken eyes to boot. He glared at me, maybe 
he knew what | thought of him or maybe he was just the 
spiteful type. Certainly looked it. You met guys like that: 
the guys who like to dip animals in lemon water after 
cutting them up, but only after everyone's gone to sleep 
so nobody finds out about it. His glare was fiercer than 
the look coming from a pastor who's just been told that 
God is dead. Good, anger made him stupid. | went for 
him, this could be my chance." 


[D-929181 begins moving towards Security Personnel 


] 


[Security Personnel shoots D-929181 twice in self- 
defense] 


D-929181: "First bullet went into my ribs, second my leg. 
Lot of blood, from the wounds and from my mouth. | tried 
to close it, but | couldn't manage. Just opened and 
closed like a bored goldfish. | was saying something, | 
couldn't quite hear it. Talking about bullets in my ribs and 
in my legs. What the hell? Why was | telling everyone 
about that? | realized. The hat, that goddamn hat they'd 
made me wear. | tried to take it off, but moving anything 
hurt more than going into space with a hangover. Who 
the fuck talked like that, | wondered. Bleeding out and 
making metaphors? | braced myself to snatch that thing 
off, but before | could breathe, move or blink, | went 
ahead and died." 


0:32:10 Dr. __is instructed to return the gravitational 
constant to original levels. 


0:32:50 Dr. instructs Dr. __ to reduce the speed of 
light to approximately 100 meters per second. Dr. 
complies. 

0:32:55 As the speed of light begins to decrease, Dr. 
shrinks by approximately ten inches. Dr. —_ abruptly 
returns the speed of light to its original value. Dr. 
returns to his original size. 


Memo: The Bohr radius is a quantity that determines the 
size of an electron's orbit around an atomic nucleus. It is 
inversely variable with both the speed of light, and the 
charge of the electron. 


0:33:10 Dr. reminds Dr. to account for the 
decrease in the Bohr radius by decreasing the 
fundamental charge unit by a corresponding factor. Dr. 

makes the necessary calculations, and complies. 
0:34:02 Dr. begins speaking in an abnormally slow 
voice, stating that he ‘feels odd’. 


Memo: This reduction of the speed of light would result in 
a slowing down of the electrochemical processes in the 
brain. This would likely result in abnormal brain activity, 
and quite probably impaired judgment. 


0:34:43 Dr. instructs Dr. _ to reduce the speed of 
light 'to as low as the dial goes’. After brief hesitation, Dr. 
complies. 
0:34:45 The speed of light within the chamber drops 
below meters per second. Dr. suddenly screams 
violently. The scream slowly drops in register until it 
becomes inaudible. The video camera positioned at the 
viewing window records Dr. __'s body becoming 
contorted, and slowly collapsing into a black hole. 
0:37:04 Under supervision of Dr. _, the speed of light 
is slowly raised back up to its normal value. Radiation 
levels given off by the black hole are consistent with 
presently-theorized levels of Hawking radiation. All 


[Subject Expires] 


<End Log> 


SCP-7800-J: The Five-Second Rule 


Item #: SCP-7800-J 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-7800-J affected 
foodstuffs, too numerous to contain, have been partially held within 
Site-77's breakroom. No personnel have gotten sick or died 
because of SCP-7800-J affected foodstuffs. 


Description: SCP-7800-J is a phenomenon affecting foodstuffs 
which have been dropped onto the floor. For approximately five 
seconds, all possible contaminants will not affect it. This miraculous 
phenomenon has been observed by Researcher Boyd numerous 
times in the Site-77 staff break room. It is not actually all that 
unusual to perform in practice. 


When activated, personnel surrounding SCP-7800-J affected 
foodstuffs will react as if the researcher involved was eating from a 
trash receptacle, which he wasn't. Researchers are to note that 
there are more contaminants on a kitchen counter anyway. 


Personnel are also to note that use of SCP-7800-J saves the 
Foundation time and money which can be better spent on 
containment. Research done independently by Researcher Boyd 
has shown that a temporal anomaly may occur where the length of 
seconds may temporarily dilate, dependent on the hunger of the 
subject and the price of the food in question. Researcher Boyd has 
included a chart: 


Extraordinary Event 7800-J-17, the Jim Pepperoni's Five-Cheese 
Calzone Incident, is estimated to have saved Foundation staff at 
least $5.95. This $5.95 allowed for the purchase of cinnamon raisin 
bagels, which further served to improve site morale. SCP-7800-J 
also served to protect site supplies from Anomaly 5XJ9 - 'Butter 
Side Down". 


Addendum: Experimenters will admit that SCP-7800-J does not 
function properly when there are liquids involved, including sauces, 
but this has no bearing on Extraordinary Event 7800-J-17 because 
Researcher Boyd only took two bites and they were basically on the 
top. 


Incident Report: SCP-7800-J has been shown to affect dirty dishes 
as well - Researcher Darryl Jacobs was carrying large amounts of 
dishes after he consumed a single bowl of soup, and accidentally 
dropped them. Researcher Boyd manage to catch 9 of the plates, 
and then began to give them to Site-77's dog, Sparky, who 
successfully consumed the dropped foodstuffs without exploding or 
anything. 


SPC-2935: O, Fin 


From the office of the Athletic Coordinator. 


Ladies and gentlemen of the Centre. When we founded this organizat 
Pummel. Combat. From our humble beginnings following the consolic 
right on through till today, this has been our promise to the world. We 
time, as the personnel currently performing Procedure 110-Monshark 
against your friends, your loved ones, all in the pursuit of our mission. 


You may have heard of Project Anab. You may have wondered if suc 
possibility of non-sharks being caught in the crossfire, of innocent civi 
the detractors say, "surely we don't need to resort to WMP's". 


SPC-2935 represents the single greatest threat to our continued exist 
of the Centre. What you are about to read is incredibly disturbing, but 
falter. We will not concede defeat. And when you gaze into the abyss. 


...punch the shit out of it. 


*Note: The administration is aware that this particular format does 
not adhere to the Standard, but you have to admit it looks sick as 
fuck. 


Description: SPC-2935 is the term for an alternate Earth, 
accessible via an heretofore undocumented cave system in New 
Mexico. 


SPC-2935 is for all intents and purposes identical to baseline Earth, 
excluding the fact that organic life - as well as advanced Al and 
sentient anomalies - became entirely selachian-based on July 17, 


2017. 


SPC-2935 was discovered on July 19th, after pugilists at Arena-81 
picked up a distorted emergency broadcast. A search of the area of 
its supposed origin led to the discovery of a cave which accessed 
the aforementioned alternate Earth. Upon entry, the broadcast was 
able to be deciphered: 


Citizens, beware! Selachian threats may be loose in the 
immediate area. Please remain indoors, and report any 
fishy activity to your local Centre representative. Stay 
tuned in for further updates. 


All subsequent information on SPC-2935 was gathered by Mobile 
Task Fist Betta-12 ("Bare-Knuckle Trawlers"), and relayed to Centre 
Command during a reconnaissance mission. 


Exploration Logs SPC-2935 
Exploration Round 1. Codename: Fire 
Mission Rules: To explore the newly- 
discovered anomaly. Report back with 


findings. 


In the red corner: Four members of Mobile 
Task Fist Betta-12. Coach observing from 
Area-31. 


In the blue corner: The enigmatic SPC-2935. 
Probably some sharks. 


<Round One> 
Coach: Team. Do you see anything yet? 
Russell: Nothing yet. 


Adrian: Yea. Just seems to be an ordinary 
cave th— 


Maggie: What's that? 


Segal: 'Er's a light up ahead. 


Adrian: More like a tunnel then, looks like its 
leading us back out to the road. 


Maggie: Then where's that distress call 
coming from? 


Segal: Maybe there's sharks that learned how 
t' operate radios, an’ they're luring us into a 
trap. 


Adrian: No way! 


Segal: Maybe they're ghosts. Those screw 
with electronics, right? 


Adrian: That...that's terrifying. Stop it! 
Russell: Seriously, kid? 

Adrian: You...you can't punch a ghost. 
Maggie: Five bucks says Segal— 
Coach: Ahem. 


Russell: Right. We're coming out now. Looks 
like...damn. 


[The team emerges from the cave and into a 
sparsely-wooded location identical to that 
surrounding the entrance to SPC-2935, 
although trees within the area feature gross 
deformities. ] 


Russel: We're back where we started. 


Coach: Negative team. There's no sign of you 
over here. 


Russell: Alternate reality. Gotcha. 


Maggie: You sound a little too certain of that. 


Adrian: Yea, what if it's just a pocket 
dimension? 


Maggie: We could be in a facsimile of Earth 
aboard an alien mothership. 


Adrian: What if we're all dreaming? 
Maggie: What if we're already dead! 
Segal: Maybe ghost sharks? 
Adrian: | said stop!!! 

Russell: Hold it! Do you hear that? 
Maggie: Hear what? 

Segal: 'S a little too quiet. 

Russell: Exactly. 


Maggie: We should be able to hear traffic on 
the main road. Hell, | don't even hear any 
birds. 


Adrian: That's not a good sign, you guys. 


Coach: Lead. What's going on with those 
trees along the ridge? 


Segal: Damn, would you look at that? 
[Team moves closer to investigate.] 


Russell: The limbs - they're bent and 
twisted...in the shape of fins? 


Adrian: They're shaped like sharks! 


Maggie: Spooky. 


Segal: [cracks knuckles] Should | punch it? 


Coach: Negative, team. Have your drone 
collect a sample of the bark. You keep going. 
Get up to the road and see what you can see. 


Russell: Copy that. Let's move. 


[Team ascends the hillside. At the midway 
point, Adrian looses his footing and falls 
forward. ] 


Adrian: Ah shit! 
Segal: Ye' alright boy? 


Adrian: Yea. |'m...|'m alright. Oh hell, my nose 
is bleeding. 


Maggie: Looks like you need to learn how to 
walk. 


Adrian: Very funny miss—Ow! Ow! Shit, help! 


[The grass around Adrian animates and points 
in his direction, while the closest blades bend 
and touch their tips against his body. Adrian 
can be seen pulling several from his hand prior 
to punching the ground in retaliation.] 


Segal: Th' hell's goin’ on? 


Adrian: It's biting me! The fuckin'-ow-grass is 
biting me! 


Maggie: The grass is sharks! Run! 

[Segal grabs Adrian and throws him over his 
shoulder. The team punches their way up the 
hill.] 


Russell: [panting] |s everyone alright? Adrian? 


Adrian: Yea. All good. 
Russell: Alright. Let's keep it moving, then. 


[The four travel along the road along the road 
for a few uneventful minutes, idly chatting. No 
sharks are punched, ergo this portion has 
been omitted from the record for brevity.] 


Segal: ...then | says, 'l meant with THESE!""! 
[Grabs his pelvic region, remaining members 
laugh.] 


Russell: Hold it, guys. Coach, we've got a 
house here. Lights are on - looks like someone 
might be home. 


Coach: You're clear to enter. Be careful team. 
Punch anything that moves. 


[Russell takes point and opens the front door, 
which ts unlocked. ] 


Russell: [sniffs] Aw, that's foul. 
Adrian: [retches] 
Coach: What's going on? Report. 


Maggie: [pinching her nose] Snells 'ike raw 
fish 'nd death. 


Segal: Smells like 's time to kick some arse. 
[cracks knuckles] 


[Team moves through the house; Russell and 
Segal clear the first floor, while Maggie and 
Adrian search the second. Russell detects 
noises emanating from the basement, the 
squad rendezvous in the kitchen.] 


Maggie: What's going on, we found 


something? 
Russell: Think so. Listen... 


[The squad pauses. From the basement; 
several long, drawn-out, high-pitched 
vocalizations can be heard. It seems to be 
coming from multiple sources. ] 


Adrian: Spooky. 

Segal: Aye. Sounds. ..off. 

Maggie: Sounds like someone's in pain. 
[Russell opens the door. The sound is clearer. ] 


Unidentified Voice 1: [whispering] 
Shhhyyyaaaaarrrrrk... 


[Team members look at one another in 
hesitation. ] 


Adrian: Nose goes! 
Segal: Kid, we're pros. Aint no way we're— 


[All present quickly touch an index finger to 
their nose.] 


Segal: [sighs] A'right. Le's do this. [cracks 
knuckles]