kill with it. Someone inside the 
Foundation. That’s why Mace’s 
music had to induce nightmares — 
that's why | released 932. | 
thought they would converge on 
the person with the worst fears — 
the person compromised by 
SCP-012. 


S-D: Perhaps he was 
compromised by On _ Mount 
Golgotha, and it sent him over the 
edge? 


Stark: I’ve seen people obsessed 
with Twelve. The Commander 
didn’t have any of the symptoms of 
someone affected by the anomaly. 


Richards: The music is using 
people in order to be completed. 
lt's like it’s trying to come into 
existence. And the Foundation 
has been helping it. 


Stark: I’ve seen so many D Class 
in its grips, and it’s always the 
same. 


Parker: What do you mean? 


Richards: It’s like the Foundation 
is deliberately trying to complete 
the score, running test after test. 


Stark: The complete obsession 
with the score, with trying to 
complete it at all costs. Withdrawal 
symptoms when not around it, 
irritability, mood swings, inability to 
—ohno. 


S-D: Emma, what is it? 


Parker: Even assuming | believe 
a word you're saying, have you 
got any hard evidence to back this 
up? 


Stark: Sir, who has executive 
editing privilege over SCP 
database entries? 


S-D: What? Um, RAISA of course. 
| suspect | probably do. And the 
relevant project lead. 


Richards: Look at the health 
records, the nightmares. Agent 
Anderson had them. 


Stark: Uh, sir — have you ever 
heard of a compulsive effect being 
“exhausted”? 


Richards: The girl too. 


S-D: Emma, where are you going 
with this? I’ve never heard of 
anything like that happening in a 
dozen years as Site Director. 


Parker: And dozens of others, but 
none of them are trying to 
complete “On Mount Golgotha’. 


Stark: Oh god. How could | have 
been so stupid. 


Richards: Oh god. How could | 
have been so blind. 


Stark: It was Dr Pherson. 


Richards: It was Dr Pherson. 
S-D: What do you mean? 


Richards: He was the one who 
re-started testing on the anomaly 
— he’s been working on it for five 
years. He has a_ musical 
background. He had nightmares 
at the retirement party. 


Stark: | saw him after the theft — 
he was devastated, twitchy, 
flustered. He was _ suffering 
withdrawal symptoms. 


Richards: Everything fits. 


Parker: Except he wasn't the one 
breaking in to steal it. 


<door opening> 


S-D: Barnes, good. Dr Pherson is 
my next interview, isn’t he? Can 
you get him here now please. 


Richards: Not yet, but he could 
do something at any time. 


Barnes: What? No, I’m sorry sir — 
| was just coming to tell you. Dr 
Pherson is missing. 


Stark: Oh god. 
S-D: Missing? 


Barnes: | went to find him for the 
next interview, but he’s nowhere 
on the site. His security detail 
thought he had been locked in his 


room — he could have been gone 
for days. 


Parker: What makes you so 
sure? 


Richards: If he is under the 
influence of the anomaly, there’s 
no telling what he's capable of. 


Barnes: Sir, we broke into his 
quarters. There are items in there 
— some of them associated with 
alchemical thaumaturgy. Scraps of 
paper referring to Alagadda. 


Stark: Alagadda? 


S-D: How did security not detect 
this? 


Barnes: Sir, there’s more. We’ve 
had a report from Site-73 — a theft 
from one of their storage locations. 
The item taken has an association 
with SCP-012, and they think Dr 
Pherson’s clearance was used to 
get in. 


S-D: Christ — he just walked in and 
stole it, before we even knew he 
was missing. 


Stark: Two thieves... 


S-D: Barnes — get site security up 
here. | want explanations now. 


Parker: Well Commander, 
whatever your explanation, the 
fact remains that you were 
responsible for the worst breach 


of security this Site has seen in 
years. 


S-D: This is the worst breach of 
security we've had in years. Looks 
like you were right about Twelve. 


Richards: But I’m right about 
Pherson! 


Parker: That may be, but for now, 
you’re relieved of your Foundation 
responsibilities. 


S-D: Emma, I'd like you to take a 
role in capturing Pherson, 
recovering Twelve and finding any 
other scores out there. 


Richards: You can't do that! 


Stark: I'm not sure how | feel 
about that. 


S-D: Emma, we need your 
expertise. You're the one who 
worked out that Richards and 
Pherson were involved. And 
frankly you're almost the only 
person who knows about Twelve 
who hasn’t betrayed the 
Foundation. 


Stark: Okay. But if you need my 
help, there are some things | need 
too. | can't conduct that big an 
operation on my own. 


Richards: Pherson can't have 
acted alone - what about the girl, 
what about Anderson? 


to the nature of the hallucinations or if it is one of the tape's cognitive 
effects. Hallucinations have always been described as benign by 
listeners and have not been cited as a direct cause of any 
psychological trauma. Even though hallucinations vary, they have 
shown some consistency for repeat listeners. 


Subjects allowed free access to SCP-691 will eventually become 
capable of doing little more than listening to the tape repeatedly, in 
several extreme cases forgoing food and drink to do so. Regular 
listeners who are denied access will not show traditional withdrawal 
symptoms. Instead, they will show difficulty in acknowledging visual 
and aural stimuli. In a few cases, subjects have either refused to or 
been unable to acknowledge any external stimulus. 


Addendum SCP-691-A1: Transcript of SCP-691's foreword: 


Hi there. If you're listening to this, then | can assume that 
life has got the better of you. Things didn't work out the 
way you wanted them to, did they? Sometimes it's bad 
luck, sometimes you're the cause of your own ruin, or 
maybe it's just that you're going nowhere, I'm not one to 
judge. Everybody has regrets, it's perfectly normal, you 
don't have to lie to yourself. But I'm digressing so I'll get 
to the point. I've got some good news for you, Sir or 
Madam! | can offer you a way out- no no no no, it's not 
suicide, you and | both know you don't have the stomach 
for that unpleasantness. I'm offering you something so 
much better, besides. All you have to do flip this tape 
over, close your eyes and relax. Think of somewhere 
nice. Think of the good times. Think of those things you 
always wanted to do. Now | can't promise that | can give 
you these, but what | can promise is this; on the other 
side of this tape you will find an escape from your own 
personal train wreck. Enjoy. 


Addendum SCP-691-A2: All further study on SCP-691 is to be 
focused on identifying traits associated with its use as per Dr. - 

's instructions. A request has also been made to study the 
effects of secondhand recordings of SCP-691-0 at various volumes 
(approval pending). Foundation Intelligence and a detachment of 
MTF Alpha-2 are working to identify and retrieve any other instances 


Stark: I'd like Roger Anderson to 
be involved as well. 


S-D: Uh, sure, | guess so - if he's 
willing. 


Parker: That’s no longer your 
concern. Samuel Richards, | am 
hereby officially demoting you 
pending a full investigation. 


Stark: To run a full investigation, 
I'll need a few other things. 
Promotion to Senior Researcher. 


S-D: Well, I'll see what | can - 


Parker: You will no longer have 
Class C privileges or Level 4 
Clearance. 


Stark: Appropriate authority and 
clearance. 


S-D: Sure, we'll need to discuss 
that in due - 


Stark: And if there is a chance 
that Twelve might be a musical 
anomaly after all - 


Parker: And you are relieved of 
your command of MTF Eta-11. 


Stark: - then I'd like to be 
appointed acting commander of 
MTF Eta-11. 


S-D: Wait, what? 


« End of First Suite » 


Wriggle Like a Fucking Eel 


"Take a deep breath, Stella. Breathe... whenever you're ready, you 
may begin." 


Zeke Don watched as his student masterfully performed, her fingers 
gliding and the bow striking the strings with intensity. Years of 
practice had paid off, and he felt that she had finally grown into the 
young, confident player he imagined she would be. It was 
astonishing: the way her posture was perfected, how she struck the 
strings without a single moment of self-doubt, how deftly she 
handled sudden transitions in tempo. It was as if she was a lifelong 
master. At the end of the piece, his most prized student looked up at 
him. 


"How did | do?" She seemed hesitant, shaking a bit and catching her 
breath. 


"You did absolutely wonderful. You handled that like a champion." 
Zeke smiled and patted her head, as Stella quickly regained 
confidence and beamed back up at him. 


“Thank you so much! Do you think I'm ready to perform for next 
week, Mr. Don?" Stella asked, her eyes wide. The door opened as a 
woman looked in, smiling at the two and waving. They both waved 
back. 


"You're more than ready. I'd keep practicing. Next week is our last 
lesson before the competition. Be sure to meet me at your school 
the next day so | can wish you good luck, okay?" Stella nodded as 
she started to pack up to leave. The woman walked over to them, 
situating herself near her daughter and waiting. 


"Same amount as usual?" she asked. 


"Yup, though just for you Mary, I'll let you pay half at $45." Zeke 
confidently quipped, a sly smile growing on his face. A few seconds 


of silence hung between them before Mary handed him $90. His 
smile dropped for a bit as he took the money and stuffed it in his 
pockets. "Are you still alright with getting dinner tonight? It's not 
often I'm able to have a free night with y—" The look she gave him 
made his smile drop. Mary moved much closer to Zeke, dropping 
her voice down to a whisper. 


"Not here, Zeke. We've had this talk before." 


"At least one last date tonight? It would be nice to go out on 
amicable terms, right?" A bit more silence before Mary backed up a 
bit as sighed. 


"Sure. Harry & Mason's?" 
"Yes, ma'am." 


"But this is it." she exclaimed sternly before heading by the door 
where Stella had headed. She waved to Zeke, smiling. 


"See you next week, Mr. Don!" Stella yelled as Zeke smiled and 
waved back. 


"See you next week," Zeke replied as he immediately started to cut 
off all emotional ties. 


The lights flashed on when D-7294 entered the testing area, as he 
covered his eyes to shield from most of the brightness. It was a 
sensation he could never get used to in testing, and it was easily the 
worst part of any day. The intercom switched on, with that 
horrendous buzzing noise adding to the displeasure. 


"Test #14, subject D-7294. Date is September 23rd, 2013. 
Researcher Tyler Jensen and Doctor Tyrone Hardy observing. 
D-7294, please have a seat in the chair directly in front of the 
mannequin, SCP-847, and converse with it. You may also lightly 
interact with it. Do not damage the item. Testing shall last no longer 
than 20 minutes. Testing begins now." The intercom switched off, 
and D-7294 took a good look at the object in the room. 


The mannequin... it looked decrepit, worn-down, horrendous. It had 


hair on it, clothes, all its body parts, but even just sitting in the chair 
on the other side of the room, he could tell how pitiful it looked. He 
hadn't felt this disgusted looking at something resembling a woman 
in a long time. 20 minutes to interact with an ugly mannequin like 
this would feel like an eternity. So he sat down in the chair and 
started to observe. 


It shuddered. 


7294 looked taken aback, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "Oh?" It 
wasn't the most shocking or grotesque display he saw since being a 
D-Class, but it was repulsive in its own right. As he watched, it made 
small sudden adjustments to its position and suggestive moaning 
noises. It looked like a puppet, being pulled on its strings. 


He could only watch in fascination as it kept doing this, as if it was 
inviting him, wanting him to play. He looked her over; the length of 
her body, the unmoving (as far as he could tell) lips, the parts of the 
body so obviously meant for him to observe. Ten minutes passed 
like this and the intercom buzzed. 


"D-7294, if you refuse to participate in testing —" 
"I'm watching." he interrupted sharply. 
"Carry on then." 


It was then that the mannequin stood up, gasping and leaning in his 
direction, and he felt his heart soar. 


Harry & Mason's was bustling with activity that summer night, as 
waiters and waitresses scrambled to serve the tourists eating there, 
and bartenders went to satiate the rush of patrons grabbing a drink. 
Mary was staring down at her plate, eating, as Zeke looked at her 
face, attempting to study her and break the ice between them. Aside 
from placing their order, they had not spoken once since being sat. 


"So, Mary..." She didn't respond. Though her eyes looked up for a 
second to glance at him, she made no effort to give further attention. 
"Look, | know you don't want to keep dating me, but don't | at least 


deserve some more time to teach your daughter? Stella is a very 
lovely student, and with more practice under her belt, she could do 
more than win boring school competitions." 


"How old is she, Zeke?" 
"Huh? Well..." His response hung in the air. 


"Thirteen. You've been teaching her for four years and you don't 
even remember how old she is." 


"Well, age isn't important when you're training to become a world- 
class musician." Mary looked even less amused. 


"For fuck's sake, you don't think anything else of her! I've never 
been anything to you either except for some object of worth." 
Though she kept her voice down while arguing, her mannerisms 
started to draw attention to the two of them. For the first time in 
years, he felt slightly put off. After a minute of silence, Mary spoke 
up again. "We're moving after her competition, and I'm making sure 
you don't ever come near us again." 


More silence passed and Zeke poked at his food, looking up every 
once in a while to see if anyone was still paying attention to the both 
of them. Each second passed by in a month's worth. A waiter came 
by and collected Mary's plate as she finished up her meal. 


"I'll see you next week then?" Mary didn't respond as she grabbed 
her purse and walked outside back to her car. Zeke sighed as he 
started to eat his food. 


The way the mannequin headed over to where 7294 was sitting was 
erratic, its movements making little sense for what it tried to do. 
Dragging its plastic legs, shambling over to him, it almost set even 
him on edge. Repulsion rose up in him, but as it got near him, he 
wondered... 


He stood up, leaning over it, trying to see if he could intimidate it. It 
stopped and froze. 


"You're adorable, aren't you," he muttered, grabbing its arm and 


moving it around. It made more suggestive noises, while 7294 
played with it. "You know what | want. You know what you want. 
What you were made for." He let go and walked around behind it, 
grabbing various body parts to move around and pose. 


"Can you really do anything else besides whimper and moan? Is 
even that too much for you to do?" He ran a hand across its eyes, 
shuddering at how real they felt. "Real eyes... porcelain skin... Your 
hands feel like cheaper than everywhere else. You couldn't ever 
attract a male like this could you, you dumb animal." It continued 
making sounds, this time sounding vaguely fearful. 


7294 let go and walked back to its front, feeling its hands and 
fingers. "Beg for me." It continued making the same sounds. "Make 
some actual, unique sounds this time." Nothing had changed. "You 
can't even serve the one purpose you were made for, can you. Do 
you feel anything?" No response except for the same sounds. "What 
will change?" He broke off a finger. 


Nothing. 


"Useless." He could immediately, faintly hear the sounds of guards 
rushing towards the testing chamber as he let go and backed away, 
the mannequin erratically jerking towards his position. The intercom 
buzzed.