“Fuck off...” Patricia mumbled, and finally fell asleep. 


Dr. Tanner returned to the office he and Morrison shared. Under his 
arm was a basket of all the items the guards had confiscated from 
the surviving D-class. He sighed as he sat down at his desk, and 
began to sort the various paraphernalia. Morrison watched him from 
her desk across the room. 


“Another month, another cohort,” she commented with a sigh. 
“How'd the recycling go?” 


“Survivors are on their cots, awaiting orientation in the morning,” 
Tanner replied. He placed D-2960’s note in a small Ziploc bag and 
that was labeled “Notes to D-5111.” An additional 6 such notes 
rested in the bag. 


“This is, what, 12 consecutive months for 5111?” 
“Thirteen...” 


Tanner placed Patricia’s notepad into a separate Ziploc labeled 
“D-5111 lists.” 


“’ve asked the other D-class Wardens,” Morrison continued, “She’s 
got the old record beat by about five months, its truly amazing. One 
of the Ethic’s reps is going to be swinging by later. They don’t 
actually have a protocol in place for when the D-class hit the one- 
year mark. Its... pretty impressive. Barely a scratch on her.” 


Tanner paused and then nodded 

“Do you still have Kerrigan’s extension?” 
Morrison froze and rose an eyebrow. 
“Yeah... why?” 


“Thirteen months as a D-class, barely a scratch on her. | think that 
warrants an inquiry by someone in Ana-Hums.” 


"That still doesn't answer the question," Morrison snickered. "We've 
had plenty of D's with obscene luck before, you never had Kerrigan's 
crew look at them until now." 


"Well, chances are that D-5111's going to be a little D-class 
energizer bunny, and keep going and going until the end of time. Its 
inhumane to keep on trying to feed someone to wolves this long... 
let alone a mother of two. If she's made into a skip at least, then 
she's not being prodded into the mouth of an eldritch horror every 
few days." 


"D-5111 has children?" Morrison chuckled. "Huh..." 


"Christ, do you even read the D-class files?" Tanner's brow furrowed 
in disgust. 


"Do you?" 


"Every last one," Tanner replied sharply. "Those people deserve to 
have at least one person know their story. Guess that's not you." 


Morrison's expression became flat and she sank back into her chair. 


"Save me the lecture," she eventually replied. "I've been doing this 
job for fifteen years. I've seen over two thousand D's come through 
here. Lots of sob stories. Lots of innocents. Lots of orphaned kids. 

Lots of widowers and lots of widows. You want to know each one, 

be my guest. I'll tell you this, though, thats a fine way burn out." 


Tanner and Morrison locked eyes for several seconds before Tanner 
finally shook his head and shrugged. 


"Kerrigan's extension?" he asked. 
Morrison read the digits out loud and shrugged. 


"Its your time to waste, | suppose." 


Day 1 


D-5111 woke with a sudden jolt, and a splitting headache. As she 
rapidly blinked, her eyes adjusting to the low light of her 
environment, she took the time to look around. She was dressed in 
an orange jumpsuit. She was lying on the bottom bunk in what 
appeared to be some kind of dorm, the room packed with bunks and 


about 20 other terrified looking women. Already the room was filling 
with panicked voices, shouting, and crying. The noise made D-5111 
realize she had no idea who or where she was... 


D-Class Orientation 


Excuse me, please. If you would all just turn your attention... Okay, 
settle down now, | need to... If | could just have your-quiet! | said 
quiet! | said-will you all just please-! said-SHUT THE FUCK UP! 


Ahem. Now that | have your attention, we may begin. | am Junior 
Assistant Researcher Doc-| SAID SHUT THE HELL UP! Okay, like | 
was saying, | will be leading your orientation today. Now, you may 
all be wondering where you are. That's classified. You may be 
wondering who we are. That is also classified. However, | can tell 
you that we are a form of a research facility. 


As you may remember, one of our agents approached each and 
every one of you and gave you an offer. You could either wait out 
your term on death row, or you could volunteer to participate in our 
testing facilities for the span of one month. Obviously, you agreed to 
cooperate. This entails-what? What do you mean you didn't agree? 
We told you that if you participate, you're free to go at the end of the 
month, who wouldn't take a deal like-guard, excuse me, guard, 
please take him-yeah, that one-to the, yeah, the third door on the 
left-thank you. Like | said, if you can make it through the testing 
procedures, we-no, | don't hear any screaming. If you can make it 
through the testing procedures, we let you go at the end of the 
month. You know, provided you cooperate fully. Sounds like a good 
deal, right? Was there anyone else who didn't agree? Okay then, 
moving on. 


Like | said, provided you can survive the entire month, you get to go 
free. No, of course it's not a death sentence. I-no, see, when | said 
"survive" | meant it like, "cooperate with us" you know? | mean, 
yeah, it's dangerous stuff, that's why we're using death row inmates. 
No, no, most of the stuff here is pretty harmless, | meant dangerous 
like, you know, the way a bomb is dangerous if you fuck around with 
it. | mean, you willbe fucking around with it, but you should be pretty 
safe if you just do what we tell you. Worst thing that'll happen is your 


toes will tingle a few minutes afterwards. Last batch of D-Class? Not 
a single one died, all got to go free at the end of the month. | was 
there, too. Watched'em scamper back into the wilderness myself. 
Like a bunch of adorable, homicidal kittens. Just do what we tell you 
and you'll get to go home to see your loving wife and kids. Well, not 
you. Says here you killed your wife and kids. Must have been 
awkward to explain to the in-laws, eh? Heh, no, | really don't want 
you to tell us how you did it, | can guess. 


Right. At the end of this orientation you will be directed down the hall 
where you will get your numerical designation tattooed on your wrist 
and chest. This will be mostly painless, and once you-Hmm? Why 
your chest? Well, in the event of an explosion, it's most likely that it'll 
be the largest intact chunk of meat left. 


Hahahaha! I'm joking! Of course I'm joking! Yes I'm sure! That is 
very, very unlikely to happen. We haven't had an explosion for the 
past two months! Ha, look at him! He thought | was serious! Heh 
heh, but, ah, no. You will actually be getting your designation 
tattooed on your chest. | was not joking about that. Well, if you want, 
you can get it removed at the end of the month. No, no charge at all. 
It's a pretty painless procedure, actually. 


Okay, once you get your new tattoo, you will be escorted to D-Block 
Alpha-6. This will be your new dormitory; you will eat, sleep, and 
bathe there. No, you were spoiled in prison, you will not be getting 
your own cell. | don't even have my own office, and you want your 
own cell? Anyways, you will be under constant video surveillance to 
ensure no shenanigans. We don't want any of that funny jail-time 
business here; you shank someone, you will be escorted behind the 
chemical... back to death row. Pretty much, if you piss us off, you 
get sent back to death row. Yeah. Seriously. A month of testing, and 
you go free. Don't screw it up. 


Okay, that pretty much wraps it up. Any questions? You, with the- 
good LORD, man, did you take a round of buckshot to the face? 
Yeah, your question. Sure, we have a fantastic team of doctors 
here, best in the world. Don't worry about your medical insurance 
here, it won't matter anyways. Next? 


Uh... you, second to the back. No, it's too late to choose death row 


over here, | don't know why you would want to in the first place. 
Well, you've got a giant swastika carved into your face, so | don't 
think you're the best at making life decisions. 


One more... ahh... yes, you, the one missing the ear. That's not 
really a question. No, phrasing it to ask how many she can fit 
doesn't count as a question. You-my mother was a saint, if you say 
one more word-guard, please, if you could-there we go... No no, it's 
fine, I'll send the janitor down later. See? Just stay in line and 
cooperate. One month, and you're gone. Never have to see this 
place again. Really, that simple. Alright, the next batch of D's are 
coming down now, guards, if you could escort them out please. 
That's right, Alpha-6. Okay, thank you very much. Really, | don't 
care what he said, she was a saint. Yeah, let me know when this 
batch gets released this month, | want to watch. 


Ahem. Welcome! | am Junior Assistant-really now, please, quiet 
down... 


manifest. 

Additional Comments: This test seems to confirm the active role 
that the subject's own imagination plays in determining the nature of 
the visions, which are limited to that which the subject can conceive. 


Date: - -20 

Subject: D14873 

Info: Profile indicates that subject suffers from ophidiophobia. 
Results: Rather than a snake-related vision as predicted by the 
subject's profile, the subject instead found himself torturing a 
number of dogs in various ways. The subject was unable to explain 
why this should be the case. When threatened with further 
application, the subject confessed to an incident in his childhood. 
Biometrics together with inconsistencies in the story indicate that it 
was a fabrication created to avoid application. As an extension to 
the test, on return to the general population the subject was (falsely) 
informed that D14850 had committed acts of cruelty against dogs. 
(D14850 was a convicted serial killer, but no evidence suggests that 
he was guilty of animal abuse.) D14850 was later found beaten to 
death by subject, who was subsequently terminated. 

Additional Comments: It seems that SCP-825 is capable of 
exploiting psychological vulnerabilities even the subject is not aware 
of. It is also clear that as an interrogation tool, SCP-825 suffers from 
the same risks of false confessions as all other advanced 
interrogation techniques. 


Date: - -20 

Subject: Laboratory rat (Rattus norvegicus, Sprague-Dawley strain 
(female, age 7 months) 

Info: the Sprague-Dawley strain of rat has been bred for docility and 
ease of handling. 

Results: SCP-825 was turned upside-down, and test subject was 
placed within. Test subject immediately began convulsing and 
spasmodically voiding its bowels and bladder; after 15 seconds of 
convulsions, subject died. 

Additional Comments: Necropsy indicates that subject died of 
massive heart attack caused by adrenaline surge. Further 
experiments with Sprague-Dawley rats had similar results, with 
median exposure time before cardiac failure being 9.32 seconds. 


To my staff 


ATTENTION 


THE FOLLOWING PAGE HAS BEEN LOCKED 
PENDING INVESTIGATION 


ACTIVITIES ON THIS PAGE ARE BEING TRACKED 
AND RECORDED 


Dr. Kondraki researching SCP- 


Name: Dr. Kondraki 

Security Clearance: Level 4, Special Permissions 
Occupation: Administrator, Director 

Site of Operations: Site 17 


SCP Files Authored: 

SCP-396 (Current Project Head: Dr. Roget) 
SCP-408 Pending forced reassignment 

SCP-250 (Current Project Head: Researcher Voct) 
SCP-295 Pending forced reassignment 

SCP-330 Pending forced reassignment 

SCP-336 (Current Project Head: Dr. Vang), 
SCP-515-ARc Pending declassification per Acting Director Escobar 
SCP-252-ARC Pending forced reassignment 
SCP-122 (Current Project Head: Dr. Roget) 
SCP-208 Pending forced reassignment 

SCP-266 Pending forced reassignment 

SCP-276 Pending forced reassignment 

SCP-570 (Current Project Head: Dr. Roget) 
SCP-460 Pending forced reassignment 


SCP-375 (Current Project Head: Dr. Roget) 
SCP-625 (Current Project Head: Dr. Vang) 
SCP-705 Pending forced reassignment 
SCP-577 Pending forced reassignment 


Log Files: FILE LISTING LOCKED. SEEK ASSISTANCE TO 
CONTINUE. 


Dr. Kondraki's Work Log FILE LISTING LOCKED. SEEK 
ASSISTANCE TO CONTINUE. 


Profile: FILE LISTING LOCKED. SEEK ASSISTANCE TO 
CONTINUE. 


History: FILE LISTING LOCKED. SEEK ASSISTANCE TO 
CONTINUE. 


THE FOLLOWING WRITTEN TO BE RELEASED ON 
ACCOUNT OF DEATH 


DATED SEPTEMBER 28TH, 2006 
RELEASED DECEMBER 8TH, 2017 


To my staff: 


If you're reading this, it means I'm dead, either by my 
own hand or some inexplicable luck of the draw. Shit 
sucks. You win some, you loose some, | guess. 


| know a few directors who left everything written out for 
everyone. Like Ghost, you know, when he died, he left 
just binders of shit detailing everything to be carried out 
on-site in a single 24 hour period for us to look through. It 
freaked me the fuck out when they appointed me to this 
position and | saw it, maybe 18 binders that he neatly 
laid out on his desk when | walked in. That's what he did 
before he offed himself. He left stacks upon stacks of 
data and paperwork and meticulous instructions behind. 


| know a lot of the older people on site will remember that 
night well, and I'm sorry as fuck you had to go through 


two directors in one lifetime if you're living to see my 
night come, too. It's a rough job. You know how it is, but 
anyway, it turns out that the binder thing is a pretty 
common thing that Directors and Senior Staff do before 
they die if they know they're gonna go out. Like, they get 
ready and shit, leave all the crucial information the site 
needs to run behind, and before you guys get excited | 
want to let you know that no, | didn't compile death 
binders, because I've never heard of anything more 
morbidly capitalistic and depressing then higher staff at 
an organization preparing for their deaths by doing 
unnecessary paperwork. You should be out doing shit! If 
someone told me | had three days to live, | sure as hell 
wouldn't spend it writing down every single thing | do 
everyday for my staff to find! If | ever decide to kill 
myself, I'm not gonna spend extra time telling you how to 
run my site the way I ran it. If I'm dead it's not mine 
anymore. It doesn't need to be run like I'm still there. 


You guys are your own people. All of you. You'll figure 
out a better way, | Know you will, and it'll be better than 
anything | could have done. 


Also, | never read those binders anyway. There comes a 
point in a man's life when you just have to bullshit until 
you make it, and that's what they did when they handed 
me the keys and told me to get shit together for 
tomorrow morning because our director killed himself. 
My colleague, like literally, my friend and mentor, who I'd 
worked under for years, who treated me with the most 
compassion I'd ever seen out of anyone. They told me 
he died and that | had to get the site's shit together. How 
fucked up is that? Are you kidding me? Like, don't get 
me wrong, | did it and it somehow all came together right 
by the next morning, but the worst part about the idea of 
dying to me is that someone else is gonna get handed 
my keys at 1am! and told that they have until 8am to 
figure it out. Whoever that ends up being, I'm sorry | put 
that on you, but I'm not sorry enough that I'm gonna 
make you a sad death scrapbook of how to carry on my