He shoots a glance through the clear section of the 
curtain at his equipment belt sitting on the toilet. He 
shudders, trying to shake off the sickened sensation in 
his gut. “Both,” he decides, pushing the shower curtain 
aside and reaching for his bright silver handcuffs. 


drugs, 


3430 W. Telfair Circle, Seabreeze, North Carolina 
May 22nd, 2022 


“Yeah! You like that, skip-fucker?” 


Men erupt in a cacophony of laughter and booing as 
Agent Rogers lands a pointed dart on the left nipple of a 
waist-up-naked color print of Reggie Jacobson taken 
from a screenshot of one of the newly-leaked security 
feeds. “That one’s for undoing years of much-needed 
good publicity!” 


“You’re plastered, Rogers,” one of his coworkers says. 


“But yet y’all’re still here watching the game on my 
couch, bucko!” he yells. The man laughs and takes 
another chug of beer. Rogers turns to the kitchen where 
a dozen people are seated and standing with their 
drinks. “Hey listen, | know we got a lot of holes in this 
print, but luckily for y’all | made four of ‘em, and the other 
three are in the garage. Do with that information what 
you will,” he tells the men as he steps out the back door, 
earning more drunken laughter. 


He shakes his head and checks his watch. How many 
shots had he downed? Nine? Ten? He isn’t sure. He 
sighs and sits at the table between his townhome and 
the neighboring one. A wave of nausea rocks his sense 
of balance as he leans back. He always regrets deciding 
to drink. 


An orange flash and a watery bubbling noise startles 
him. He jolts in his chair before realizing what it is. 
“Jesus, Trauss, | thought you were out of town right 
now.” 


Trauss coughs a white plume into Rogers’ face. “Nope. 
I’m here. Saw my picture right at the top of Information 
Breach this morning, so that was a bit of a heart attack. | 
mean, | let them take it, | just can't believe they actually 
used it. And didn't edit it, at that.” 


“Meh, everyone around town recognizes you anyway at 
this point. But yeah, that article about Jacobson was a 


shame. To say the least. Sorry your picture had to be 
what they put on the page. You off today?” 


“Today, yeah, but when they won't let me drive an 
unmarked car, | can’t really go out at all without feeling 
like I’m on the clock. It's like we've talked about, y'know. 
Same deal.” 


“I get you. So look, how much you know about all this 
bullshit with that guard?” 


“| watched the videos.” He flicks the lighter again. 
“The- the full videos, or the Ethics Committee ones?” 


“The Ethics Committee videos that got out to the public. | 
heard about the new ones, though, and if any one of us 
watching those decides to let it out, we are a// completely 
fucked.” 


“..-Right. Uh, you know, sounds like | should warn you, | 
got a screenshot of that kid with his nips out printed-” 


“You got something printed? It better have been at the 
front company!” 


“Yes! Yes, obviously!” 


“You can’t just casually commercially print something 
from a video that shouldn't exist outside of the security 
department’s servers. You better hope the employee 
didn't pay much attention to it. Jesus Christ.” Trauss 
shakes his head and relights the bowl. 


“Uh... Yeah, | guess that might’ve been stupid. But look, 
| just, | really hate this kid, y’ know? Like, really-really.” 


Trauss waits to talk until he’s filled the bong chamber 
with smoke again. “Sure. But | don’t think making a 
dartboard out of his picture is a healthy type of criticism.” 


Rogers sticks his nose up. “Oh, get that white-collar Site- 


speak shit outta here. You saw what he did to that poor 
thing. The fuck deserves it.” 


Trauss inhales the hit in one short huff. “Alright, well, if 
you're gonna get graphic, I'll just point out that you of all 
people have had that exact same type of sex. With 
anomalous people.” He wheezes. 


“In the- in the fucking field where they’re not registered 
as SCPs and they’re not in containment. Duh. There’s a 
difference. C’mon, your ass knows that.” 


“In terms of regulations, yes, there is a huge difference, 
but regulations do not reflect personal autonomy 
decisions and you know that.” 


“Besides, you were worse than | ever was when you 
were on Lambda-12.” 


“I’m not trying to start a who’s-had-the-kinkiest-sex 
competition. I’m just pointing out that we have to be 
careful about when the media shows one person's 
business in full out of nowhere. The Ethics Committee 
hasn't even finished their investigation. People are going 
to use this as anti-Foundation propaganda immediately 
— hell, Brandon Walkers already has my goddamn 
picture in the paper as an example of who to watch out 
for when you're avoiding the skippers — and that’s 
something that affects all of us. | heard you yell about 
reputation damage in there, even.” 


Rogers sighs. “I get you. | do. Fuck it. I’m too drunk for 
this.” 


“And |’m too high for this. You wanna walk a few laps 
around 42?” 


“Don’t know if my body’s up for walking, but | am up for 
getting out of here.” 


“lll get the keys, then-” 


“Oh no, lordy. | can’t ride in a car right now.” 


“You wanna just come into my place and watch movies 
until you’re sober?” 


“Better.” 


3426 W. Telfair Circle, Seabreeze, North Carolina 
May 23rd, 2022 


“m not saying | believe the news. I’m just saying that 
unless you prove to me that your case isn’t what it looks 
like, | don’t want your 22-year-old ass in my house 
anymore. Effective immediately.” 


“Mom, would you please just listen-” 
“I’m through listening! Show me evidence!” 


“| don’t have it!” Reggie snaps, dropping his duffel bag at 
the door. “Why would they give me a copy of that? And 
why do you want to watch your own son having sex with 
someone anyway?” 


“Lord above, Reggie, | want to believe you, but the truth 
is — and you already know this from all our arguments — 
that I’ve been raising my eyebrow at you working for 
those people since the day you turned 18 and signed the 
papers, and it’s only getting worse! Look at what your 
employer does to- to humans, sometimes even little girls 
and boys like Rose! Kids! Kids, thrown in- in cushy 
prison! In some creepy effigy of a psych ward with no 
medical reason to be in one!” 


"Don't you dare start this again! It's been four years since 
| enlisted! It's not your decision anymore! No matter how 
much it bothers you, you will not change the fact that 
your son grew up to be a Foundation agent, and you 
don't have to like it, but you sure as hell don't have to 
constantly berate me about it! They're not bad people — 
we're not bad people, /‘m not a bad person! Those 


three are consistent with stage N3 NREM sleep. 


Periodically, SCP-938 will fixate on an individual; these individuals 
are designated SCP-938-A. Prior to feasibility of containment, 
SCP-938 was documented pursuing a single target for thirty-six (36) 
years, eleven (11) months, and six (6) days until the target died of 
natural causes. The exact traits which prompt SCP-938 to fixate on 
an individual are unknown. In twelve of nineteen recorded instances, 
SCP-938-A were documented to suffer from a number of disorders 
relating to stress or paranoia, including post-traumatic stress 
disorder, paranoid schizophrenia, and a number of severe phobias; 
these disorders are likely the result of extended proximity to 
SCP-938 and not a criterion by which it bases target selection (see 
Addendum 04-13-1979). 


Containment history of SCP-938 is available here. 


Addendum 09-29-1944: The electrical phenomenon commonly 
known as St. Elmo's Fire provides SCP-938 with a direct route of 
attack. SCP-938-A [REDACTED] SCP-938. A Foundation personal 
security detail [REDACTED] suffered acute UV burns and 
permanent blindness; died of resultant infections. 


Addendum 04-13-1979: Several members of MTF Theta-9 have 
reported subtle hallucinations and a vague sense of unease while in 
the vicinity of SCP-938. The most frequently reported hallucination 
has been irregular clusters of iridescent red eyes watching from 
poorly illuminated areas, including the shadows of personnel, 
foliage, and in a handful of reports, the night sky; Agent 

remarked he once mistook the phenomenon for stars. It is not 
believed to be a cause for concern at this time. 


¢ Note 02-22-1990: Personnel responsible for the routine 
inspection and maintenance of SCP-938 containment have 
witnessed similar hallucinations in the vicinity of Capacitor 
Bank Zero despite no knowledge of MTF Theta-9's reports. 
Maintenance personnel most often report these as clusters of 
eyes in the spaces between capacitors. 


Addendum 03-11-1987: Statistical observation of weather patterns 
within three thousand (3000) kilometers of SCP-938's confirmed 


people, the people we're ‘abusing’ according to you, they 
need help! They're affected by factors out of their control 
and out of the control of mainstream science, and we're 
the only ones who can provide anything close to relief! 
Mom, more than half of the human anomalies are in 
there voluntarily, for crying out loud-" 


"If they need so much help, then why on God's green 
earth did you fuck one of them? You're either treating 
someone like an object or you're treating them like a 
person — by putting them back out in the world where 
they belong — and there's no middle-ground! Especially 
when you're- when you're just thinking with your dick!" 


“Okay, mom, I’m not having this. Not this topic again and 
not on this level. I'll get out of your house.” He picks up 
his bag and opens the front door to blinding sunlight. 
“Your house that you only own because your child is 
Foundation personnel, I'll add. If at any point you want to 
talk to me, you can do it through the Site’s number.” He 
closes the door on her angry, teary protesting and spins 
around, one hand holding his bag and one hand 
shielding his eyes. He squints at the car pulling up to 
park in front of his driveway. His pulse thumps when he 
sees the Foundation logo on the side. 


“Reggie!” 


He looks back at his mom’s front door and jumps down 
off the porch. “Hey Trauss, I’m afraid I’m-” 


“Don’t go anywhere, are you crazy?” he says out the 
window. He motions for him to come down the driveway. 


“What?” Reggie pants, getting into the passenger side 
with his bag at his feet. He breathes a sigh of relief once 
he closes the door between himself and the outside 
world. 


“Look man, | don’t fully know what’s going on, but | do 
know enough to tell you that your picture is all over the 


civilian news and the Foundation hearsay and you really 
need to watch it. For your own safety.” 


Reggie flicks his tongue, shaking. “Um... That’s not 
really what | needed to hear right now, but thanks.” 


“That's not what you wanted to hear, but it may be what 
you needed to hear. |’m just telling you like it is. Look, if 
you need a ride back to the Site or something, just page 
me. Things were slow these few weeks until all this hit 
the news, so now I’ve gotta deal with prank calls and the 
like, but I’m still usually just patrolling. I’m around if you 
need to get anywhere.” 


“I appreciate it, but, uh, | can’t work for a week. They put 
me on suspension until the Ethics Committee finishes 
the investigation.” 


“Oh, | gotcha. Okay, well, | see you got your bag with 
you. Did your mom kick you out?” 


He winces. “Yeah. You don't have to phrase it like that. 
Just- augh. All of this is so embarrassing.” 


“| can empathize more than you might realize.” 
“Thanks, | guess.” 


“Look, if you just need to lay low for seven days and you 
can’t stay onsite, | got a spare mattress at my place. Just 
don’t let my neighbor Rogers notice that you’re there or 
we could have trouble.” 

“Fuck, r-really? You don’t mind me being there?” 


“| don’t give a shit. Just don’t break anything or smoke all 
the weed.” 


“What if someone notices?” 


“| got a backup plan for if people notice.” 


“The way you said that wasn’t very reassuring. Did you 
mean it to be?” 


“Yes, definitely. You know our building is the one with the 
access tunnel, right? In your training, they told you about 
the access tunnel that runs from the Site to the 
safehouse ?” 


“Yeah, | remember that. That’s your unit? | thought it was 
the one across the street.” 


“It’s mine. It’s been other people’s in the past but it’s 
always an offsite agent’s. Makes taking in the skips a 
little more surreptitious, sometimes.” 


“So | can just- | can just stay with you for a week and 
then when the Committee calls, | can just walk to the Site 
underground from your basement? | don't have to see 
anyone for a week?” 


“If that's really what you need and you're not going to talk 
to your mom, yeah. You got a little sister in there, right? 
Really young? I've seen her playing in the yard.” 


"Yeah. | don't know. My mom needs to cool down. I'll 
probably talk to her in two days or so." 


"Well, you know your family better than me, for sure. But 
yeah, you can stay with me. I'm not there much anyway." 


“Okay. Phew. Alright, | feel better now. Thank you so 
much.” 


“It’s not a problem. But just to be clear- well, that can 
wait. Yeah, let’s just get to the house.” 


“Actually, uh- Would you mind driving to 42 real quick? | 
left something in my locker there, it’s important.” 


Trauss raises an eyebrow. “It’s important?” He eyes the 
younger man’s jittery hands. 


“Yeah, it’s- uh- | left my phone charger.” 
“Oh, well | got extras of those. You need micro-USB?” 
“No, | need the weird one for the Foundation one-” 


“Oh, well | got those too. More of those actually. You're 
set.” 


“Okay.” 


Trauss adjusts the gearshift and rolls away from the 
Jacobson household. Once he’s driven down a few 
houses and pulled into the driveway by the 3437 
mailbox, he unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to Reggie. 
“So, I’m gonna go out on a limb here, bear with me if I'm 
wrong: The pills in your locker. Xanax or Klonopin?” 


Reggie exhales and puts his head in his hands, pressing 
his fingers into his eyelids. “Xanax.” 


“Knew it. Look, | know you're probably on the comedown 
right now, but if you’re on pills without a prescription | 
don’t want to witness it happening. If you weren’t an 
adult I’d tell you to keep it out of my house. But I’m 
serious, don’t let me see it if you’re gonna keep on it, and 
I’m not driving you to get it. If you just want to get doped 
out, I’ve got plenty of indica strains for that.” 


“I'll try to survive. Thanks.” He feels like he's going to fall 
out of the car. 


“Mmm.” Trauss exits and comes around to Reggie’s 
side. “Put your hood up real quick, will ya?” He closes 
the door after he gets out and walks after him to the front 
door. “Anyway, if you need to get to 42, make sure you 
ask me first. The security system doesn’t warn you about 
it, but it freaks out if anyone other than the two 
authorized personnel open the tunnel. And right now 
that’s just me and Rogers.” 


“Got it.” 


“Cool. Go crash on the couch or raid the kitchen or 
whatever you want. Don’t hesitate to eat and drink my 
stuff; | really don’t mind. | gotta go do some paperwork 
upstairs but I'll be back down in about 30.” 


“C-can | ask you something real quick?” 


Trauss stops on the stairs and flips his hair over his 
shoulder. “Yeah?” 


“Why are you being so nice? Even with what’s in the 
news about me?” 


He steps down a few more feet and leans on the wall. 
“I’m hesitant to tell you this, but fuck it, you’re going to 
find out anyway. Those security feeds — all of them — of 
you and 4427 together are all out. Not to the public, but 
spreading around internal communications.” 


Reggie sways, gripping the edge of the counter. “...All of 
them?” 


“Yes. All of them. All seventeen.” 


“W-who leaked that? Hell, who leaked the Ethics 
Committee ones to YouTube? And now these too, who in 
the security departments would’ve-”