MP: It works both ways, you know. | find my 
own assistants unable to tell me whether 
Gandher ever a /'oranged himself. 
Interviewer: Ask them about the Fearsome 
Five sometime. See how many they can name. 
MP: At this point? Goodness, no. They 
couldn’t remember Bushroot if he killed their 
own parents. 

Interviewer: [laughs] Hey, why hasn’t your 
prime minister been eaten yet? 

MP: Give it a week. [laughs] Hell, give it until 
his skin gets all crispy. 

Interviewer: It’s always great to see you. 
Come back on if you can be outside next 


week. 

MP: [laughing] Thanks. Quack quack quack 
quack quack! 

Interviewer: Anyway, let’s get back to... ? 


[The interviewer's co-host is visibly 
uncomfortable.] Are we still on? 


Day 17 (Wednesday, 5/8): The recall is a moderate 
success. Approximately 200,000 instances of SCP-1425 
are confiscated and destroyed by incineration. An 


additional claim is released to the press indicating that 
copies of Duck Signals may have been contaminated 
with duck herpes due to an attack by Negaduck. 


Various subjects who are afflicted with Duckburg 
Syndrome are gathered by the Foundation and 
administered a series of doses of Class B Am-nest-ics. 
They are returned to their mental facilities with a sharp 
decline in symptoms. The Foundation is granted 
emergency permission by the Center for Duck Control to 
treat Duckburg Syndrome sufferers, following a partially 
fabricated presentation in which the illness is presented 
as a condition caused by duck herpes. 


Broadcast intercepted by Protocol Anatidae: North 
Carolina public access children’s program “Gyro's Lab”. 
The host, a man wearing goggles referred to as “Gyro 
Gearloose”, is speaking to several children sitting on the 
set in a semicircle. 


Gyro: Alright, kids, | think you'll be surprised 
by our next guest. He is the terror that flaps in 
the night. He is the batteries that are not 
included. He is...! 

Producer: [off-screen] We don’t have any 
guests today, Gyro. 

Gyro: [looking toward the producer] Then what 
are we doing? 

Producer: This episode is about being 
creative. 

Gyro: Really? Sorry, | got disquackted, | 
guess. Kids, pay close attention. I'll teach you 
how to make racecar lasers out of whoever 
you find lying around! 

Producer: <inaudible> 

Gyro: | have what? No. Stop being sucha 
goose! Quack quack quack quack quack! 
Producer: Cut. 


Day 18 (Thursday, 5/9): The rate at which instances of 
SCP-1425 are confiscated begins to slow. In 


metropolitan areas across coastal America and major 
cities in St. Canard, as well as towns in the southern US 
near Foundation facilities and known to be areas where 
the sect known as “Southern Featherism” has taken root, 
agents travel from door to door in hazardous materials 
suits, using the cover story that copies of Duck Signals 
have been contaminated by duck herpes. 


In an incident quickly concealed by the United States 
Government, three senators—Huey ,Dewey_ ,and 
Louie —attempt to report Scrooge McDuck to the FBI. 
In the official report, the legislative officials claim that 
McDuck Is “impostoring” because “he was executed 
months ago”. The senators go on to suggest a live 
execution on broadcast television which “will definitely 
take”. They unanimously insist that it be hosted by 
comedian Quackerjack, who “could have his wings force- 
fed to him as an opening sketch”. 


Broadcast intercepted by Protocol Anatidae: The May 
9th episode of popular talent show American Swan is 
removed from air in its entirety. After approximately ten 
minutes of advertisements and preliminary introduction, 
the host, Ryan Seafowl, stops when introducing the first 
contestant. Transcript follows. 


Seafowl: Now let’s let down to business. You 
probably remember our first ugly duckling from 
last week, when he made his version of— 
Paula [referring to judge Paula Abduck], are 
you crying? 

Abduck: [The judge’s hand is over her face, 
and her voice is shaking.] | just feel kinda fowl. 
Seafowl: Ladies and gentlemen, Paula’s had a 
long week. [Audience laughs.] You think it 
might be happening? 

Abduck: | think you need to go... go on with 
the show. 

Canard: [Simon Canard, another talent judge 
on the program, is sitting to Paula’s left.] No, 


no, we want to hear about this. 

Abduck: Quack quack quack quack quack! 
Seafowl: | just want to let everyone know, right 
now Paula can’t see us. Her vision is obscured 
by a pond that’s being slaughtered like a fish. 
Fresh cavities open in the water like sucking 
bills, because it doesn’t want to wait for the 
crispy duck skin to cool. Their webbed feet 
melt as they're slow-roasted alive. [The host 
looks toward the camera.] Racecars. Lasers. 
Aeroplanes. [Several members of the 
audience laugh.] 

[Paula Abduck sits up as her long, slender 
neck made for dipping into the water to eat 
water bugs wrenches back, as if by spasm. 
Her bill opens wide and duck herpes begins to 
spew forth.] 

Seafowl: And there you go. Randy, [referring 
to the third panelist on the far left, Randy 
Quackson] take a deep breath, you might be 
able to join her in hell. 

Quackson: |’ll do that shit in my own home. 
Ryan, just take off the mask. We aren’t even 
on the air right now. 

Seafowl: This? [The host tugs at his cheek 
with his left wing.] This is real. They’ll have to 
rip it off me. It's a duck blur, right? 

Quackson: It's a duck blur. 

[This is followed by two minutes of silence 
from the host, judges, and audience. After that, 
Seafowl, Canard, and Quackson imitate Paula, 
emitting duck herpes upward from their bills 
into the studio and quacking over and over. At 
no point does the audience audibly react. This 
continues until the end of the episode, with the 
camera angle focused on the judges, 
occasionally interspersed with a closeup of an 
audience member frozen in shock or weeping 
silently]. 


See Doctor Stevens. 


They've tried transcribing 
Using Voice Recognition... 
Results looked all wrong. 


Addendum for Nine 
Three One: This anomaly 
Was used to cross-test. 


Considered useful 
To further contain hazard, 
To keep the world safe. 


Details of cross-test: 
This with Two Six Seven Three 
Locked up in haiku. 


« SCP-930 | SCP-931 | SCP-932 » 


Day 19 (Friday, 5/10): Foundation patrols find Duckburg 
Syndome sufferers in the streets, claiming to be 
“following smoke” as outlined in the text (see Document 
1425-A). The event is presented to the news as the 
result of duck herpes, and individuals are instructed to 
report to local hospitals, where the Foundation provides 
am-nest-ic therapy. 


Broadcast intercepted by Protocol Anatidae: On the 
daytime talk show “Webfeet’, host Oprah Webfeet hosts 
an episode alone. The studio is dark, and apparently 
contains no audience. The host carries a lit candle for 
illumination. Two cameras are used, though it is 
unknown how they are being operated. 


Webfeet greets the audience, her face lit from 
below. Her face is flushed and bears smeared 
makeup, indicating recent dips in the water to 
eat water bugs. She explains in a flat voice 
that the lights in the studio have been shut off, 
an act which she finds preferable, as she does 
not “want to be scared away by kids running at 
her holding bread”. She conducts an interview 
which, she claims, is with comedian 
Quackerjack; however, he is never seen, nor is 
the chair he is claimed to be seated in, and no 
response to her questions is audible. She 
reacts as if hearing responses, however, 
sometimes breaking into laughter or wiping 
tears from her eyes. Subjects range from the 
mundane (the latest season of the sketch 
comedy series Mr. Banana Brain’s Show) to 
more anomalous topics, such as astronomical 
events related to the text of SCP-1425, 
including [REQUACKTED]. At the 20-minute 
mark, Webfeet is speaking directly into the 
camera when she is interrupted by a creature 
wearing a purple fedora grabbing her from 
behind. The figure fires a grappling hook at the 
camera, cutting off the feed. 


Day 20 (Saturday, 5/11) and onward: Fewer than 
copies of SCP-1425 are believed to be extant in society, 
not counting any which remain directly in the wings of the 
Feather Church. Since then, only one broadcast has 
been interrupted due to the Protocol: a St. Canard 
celebrity news program which aired footage of Flintheart 
Glomgold [DATA EGGSPUNGED] consistent with the 
5/10 broadcast. The second part consists of the 
systematic elimination of all records of Duck Signals, 
Duckburg Syndrome, and any related incidents from 
public record and public history. Am-nest-ic program 
1425-FLOCKYTUS [DATA EGGSPUNGED]. 


Addendum 1425- 
A [LEVEL 3 CLEARANCE OR HIGHER ONLY] 


If you're learning of Event 1425 for the first 
time, the details reported here may come as a 
surprise. It’s a hard notion to swallow, 
especially for a creature with a long neck 
made for dipping ito the water to catch water 
bugs, that we could make everyone forget how 
for a few weeks in 2005 everyone was a 
talking duck. That doubt is justified. 

The party line is that the SCP Foundation is 
all-capable and all-prepared. But, if you’re 
reading this, you’ve earned a little gander. The 
incontrovertible fact of Event 1425 is that we 
got ducky. Circumstances won the day, 
circumstances that were more unnatural and 
terrifying than the inside of a duck's mouth. 


One: The situation was much worse than 
we realized. One water-rippling, memetically 
active fantasy book outside of custody is a 
containment breach. A million such objects in 
uncontained circulation... well, the official term 
is “quacktastrophe”. And they would have 
gotten away with it, too, as I’m about to 
explain. 


Two: the cleanup in St. Canard was a 
fiasco. The eradication of SCP-1425 from St. 
Canard failed substantially. On Sunday, from 
11:00 to 11:45, St. Canard looked, to anyone 
paying attention, like it had been slow-roasted 
with moist crispy skin and sewn back together 
with a Yukon smile all full of water bugs. Even 
| will not describe what they did to Magica 
deSpell. 


Three: it wasn’t enough. Protocol Anatidae— 
looniest of all loonie bins—wasn’t a complete 
success. Another point in the Protocol was a 
certain SCP object which was to be used only 
if absolutely necessary, and we used it. We’re 
still dealing with the consequences of 
activating Project FLOCKYTUS, but | do not 
regret the decision. Sometimes you have to 
cut deeper into a duck to get at the juicy duck 
meats. 


| leave you with a warning: Command's 
stance on the topic is that the sleepers have 
been eradicated, but it is my belief that the 
operation was not local. If, at any point, you 
detect a whiff of birdshit (or duck poop, for that 
matter), tell your Director. Hell, tell me. And if 
you're a Featherist yourself, and you’re 
reading this, | can only congratulate you on 
your success. But | should ask: does the 
phrase “duck herpes” mean anything to you? It 
does to me. 


Those of you who aren't: next time you see a 
Featherist, make sure to duck and cover... or 
else you'll foot the bill. 


J. Gander Hooter 
Director, TERN 
Liverpool, 8/15/2006 


Footnotes 

1. Many of the confirmed individuals were easily identified through 
public appearances wearing hats. A duck would never wear a hat 
unless it was to signify membership in an eldritch conspiracy. 


SCP-173-D 


Smith was the ideal Foundation agent. 
Methodical, reasonably moral, reasonably amoral, and 
unquestionably loyal. 


Yet he felt strangely reluctant about what he was about to do. 


It was a standard decommissioning. The Foundation had a 
reputation as a bunch of packrats, collecting every piece of trash or 
pile of dirt that didn't fit into their understanding of the world. Locking 
it away forever under the notion that they're somehow doing the 
world a service. Yet occasionally, the gears of bureaucracy would 
turn, the accountants would crunch some numbers, the researchers 
would analyze the data, and an object would be slated for 
destruction. 


"Decommissioning" is what they called it. 
And SCP-173 was soon going to be SCP-173-Decommissioned. 


SCP-173. Euclid-Class. Autonomous. Ectoentropic. Observational. 
Sculpture. 


By all rights, your bog-standard anomaly, a piece of anart that kills 
you if you look at it the wrong way. Probably created by some bixbie 
fresh out of art school. 


Smith didn't want to put too much thought into the matter. He wasn't 
paid to think. Or at least, not at the moment. No, at the moment he 
was being paid to smash. 


Yet he was hesitant. 
SCP-173 wasn't special. 


Sure, it was one of the few files open to general access, but that 
was probably because it had so little to hide in the first place. 


Sure, it's one of the example SCPs they have in that packet they 
hand out to new employees, but that better serves as a testament to 
its genericness. 

Sure, everyone in Site 19 knows someone who knows someone 
who's died to the thing in some containment breach or another. 
Smith himself has attended a few funerals because of it. 


But it didn't deserve any special recognition. Not from Smith, not 
from the Foundation. 


And yet he felt he was about to do a disservice to the world. 

Whirrr 

The characteristic drone of a Scranton Reality Anchor filled his ears. 
"Alright, it's now set up." 

That was the signal for him to start swinging. 

Thwack 

He started with the face. 

Thwack 


The crude caricature of the human visage on 173's bulbous head 
looked strangely accusative today. 


Thwack 

Why did he have to do this manually? 
Thwack 

Budgetary concerns? 

Thwack 

Since when was money an issue? 


Thwack 


He didn't have to worry about the thing coming to life in the middle of 
a swing. 


Thwack 

He had an entourage to make sure that didn't happen. 
Thwack 

It felt wrong, doing this in front of an audience. 
Thwack 

Better than the alternative, he supposed. 

Thwack 

Was it some memetic effect? 

Thwack 

No, the Foundation is thorough about screening for cognitohazards. 
Thwack 


Sure, it was someone's life work, but he wasn't one for art, much 
less art with a kill count. 


Thwack 

Maybe he's been at the Foundation too long. 

Thwack 

Long enough to get too attached to these killing machines. 
Thwack 

He briefly wondered if this particular killing machine was alive. 
THWACK 


Briefly. 


Thwack 

Well, now it didn't matter. 

That was it. 

The statue was now a slurry of blood and stone on the floor. 


It was the magnum opus of some unknown, attention-starved artist 
who put a piece of themselves in their work. It spent decades in 
containment. It killed hundreds of people. The Foundation has spent 
thousands on keeping it contained. Its face has been emblazoned 
into the minds of thousands of D-class, living and dead. 


It was now an unrecognizable heap of rebar and human excrement. 


Smith loosened the grip on his sledgehammer. Smith slackened his 
stance. Smith let out the sigh he was holding in. 


That's when he noticed a canister in the rubble. 
Did SCP-173 have some secrets after all? 


Ever carefully, he crouched down to pick it up. He wiped it clean of 
any bodily fluids. Desperate for an answer, he unscrewed the lid, 
and read the note inside. 


"Are We Cool Yet?" 


That was it? 


SCP-2000-B 


Person of Interest File #2273/01 


Person of Interest File #2273/01 
Legal Name: Alexei Belitrov 
Aliases used: "Father Anvil" 


Associated Groups of Interest: The Eastern Clockwork Orthodox 
Church! 


Reason for monitoring: Pol is a former SCP object. Pol may 
possess sensitive information regarding SCP Foundation operations 
and assets. 


Course of Action: Monitor communications through standard 
channels, detain if information leak is detected. 

UPDATED 2063/1 1/01: Monitor known and suspected points of 
contact, carry out information control measures if information leak is 
detected. 


Priority: Low