be part of "Paradise Falls", although the river is difficult to follow and 
may be topographically inconsistent as well. In addition, visitors 
hiking on SCP-778 have reported hearing the sound of rushing 
water, consistent with that of a waterfall, although in all cases the 
trail soon veers away from the assumed location of the waterfall. 


SCP-778 also appears to "regenerate" somewhat regularly, usually 
every 10-25 years. When it does, its name will change, it will shift to 
another area of the park, and all park maps and signs will change to 
reflect this. For a known history of SCP-778's changes, please see 
Document 778-130 


For a record of tests performed in order to reveal the nature of 
SCP-778, please see Experiment Log 778. 


Addendum 778-A: In _, an attempt was made to destroy SCP-778 
with the use of multiple Class-D personnel, machinery, and common 
tools. Over 20 km of trail were destroyed (passed off as winter flood 
and storm damage) before it disappeared. Seven months later, the 
trail reappeared in a different location under the name Paradise 
Falls. Given the effort needed to destroy that much trail and the utter 
failure of the attempt, total destruction of SCP-778 is not 
recommended again. 


Document 778-130: List of Known Previous Incarnations of 
SCP-778 
Initial Recovery in -  : Nightfall Pond 

- :Fox Lake 

- : Cedar Point 

- : Western Ridge 

-Present: Paradise Falls 


« SCP-777 | SCP-778 | SCP-779 » 


a small chuckle. 


"Indeed..." Agent Martin sighed. "Your thaumaturgists. They are 
sure that this train will have the object aboard?" 


"Positive. The Obskura guys did a bang up job with the 
counterscrying, but covering up a powerful artifact leaves little 
details behind that can be detected if you know where to look. Your 
crew have the insertion and extraction set?" 


"If there is a problem during this operation, getting there and getting 
out again will not be it." 


"| suppose not," Agent Smith chuckled again. "These guys aren't 
going to know what hit them..." 


German Countryside 


Hauptmann Zimmerman had four decoy Holy Lances constructed. 
The first two were sent out via military convoys, while the third was 
to travel by plane. The final decoy was to remain in Nuremberg. 
Each decoy was sent out with enough escort to make convincing 
targets, should the AOI or the SCP Foundation decide to take the 
bait. Meanwhile, the actual Lance was quietly loaded on to a train 
that had begun to make its way toward Berlin. 


Along the way, this train passed beneath a stone bridge upon which 
eight figures had recently apperated. As the locomotive passed 
beneath them, they then faded out, and appeared upon the roof of 
the final carriage. Agents Smith and Martin gave a confident nod to 
one another, and prepared their weapons as they crept into the 
train's interior. 


Franz Hoffman had not only been lucky enough, or unlucky enough 
as some might see it, to have been selected to escort the real Holy 
Lance, but assigned as part of the guard detail within the same 
carriage as the object itself. As he stood by his post, occasionally 
taking the time to check and recheck his firearm out of boredom, 
he'd glance over at the crate containing the relic and look at it with 


unease. 
"Waste of resources..." 


Franz looked over at one of his fellow guards who was mumbling 
under his breath, an eyebrow raised. 


"How's that?" Franz asked. 


"This is a waste of resources,” his colleague repeated. "Fatherland 
engaged on two fronts and they have us committing the highest 
degree of blasphemy." 


"If they are capable of weaponzing such a thing, I'd say it's 
resources well spent. Could turn the tide of the war. And when the 
war ends, we can go home." 


"You don't think there will be repercussions? The spear that pierced 
the side of Christ used for mass slaughter, and God almighty will 
turn a blind eye?" 


"He's turned a blind eye to the Americans when they slaughtered the 
Indians. He turned a blind eye to the men who gassed one another 
in the trenches. Something tells me he'll turn a blind eye here." 


Franz paused and sighed. 
"The world is a cruel, wicked place, after all." 


A chill ran down Franz's spine as he felt a hand on his shoulder. 
Turning his head, he saw Hauptmann Zimmerman standing beside 
him, an approving smile on his lips. 


"You are wise to the ways of the world," Zimmerman replied. "You'll 
go far." 


The Hauptmann then turned his attention to Franz's colleague, and 
slowly walked over. He placed a hand on his shoulder, then walked 
away. Zimmerman's arms slid out from his sleeves and remained 
floating in place, the stumps covered with smooth skin above the 
elbow. He then turned to look out the carriage window. As he spoke, 
the Hauptmann's disembodied hands continued to gesture. 


"You think our task is a fool's errand, and yet you have not yet 
begun to see the true horrors of this universe. | have. Our enemy is 
developing its own weaponzied relics they they will in turn unleash 
upon our soldiers, and our citizens. It is our job and our duty to 
ensure that we are the first to the punch. For the Fuhrer and for 
Germany." 


Zimmerman then turned to the soldier. The man whimpered in fear 
as the disembodied arms on his shoulders then shifted and patted 
him on the cheek. 


"Do | make myself clear?" 


The soldier nodded furiously. Zimmerman smiled, walking back to 
his arms and allowing them to slide back into his sleeves before 
removing them from the terrified man's person. 


"Excellent," the Hauptmann replied. He then turned back to Franz 
and gave another nod. "Keep up the good work." 


In one of the rear carriages, six Obskurakorps soldiers sat around 
playing dice games, amidst idle conversation. The trip had been 
uneventful so far, and likely would continue to be for the remainder 
of the duration. None noticed Agent Smith, Agent Martin, and the 
rest of their joint task force enter the carriage until Agent Smith had 
already approached their group, his right hand held out and glowing 
with a faint blue light. 


The soldiers shouted and reached for their weapons, only for Smith 
to clench his fist. Four of their necks snapped in an instant. The 
remaining two attempted to flee, only to be shot in the back by 
Martin, and her suppressed pistol. She reloaded without a word and 
gave Smith a nod for them to continue. 


"Its going to get a little hairy from here. Remember, the strike team 
is going to derail the train if we are not at the checkpoint in half an 
hour," he warned the task force members. "Be careful, and for 
Christ's sake take out any Type Blues you see first." 


As Franz Hoffman stood at his post two enemy agents forced open 
the carriage door, then opened fire. The resulting spray of bullets 
tore through two of his colleagues. Fumbling with his weapon, he 
returned fire in kind, killing the intruders. However, Franz soon found 
himself being shot at from the other direction. Taking cover behind a 
crate, he turned to see yet more enemy agents entering from the 
other side of the carriage. He swore as he reloaded, and joined his 
fellow guards in exchanging fire with the intruders, only to turn to 
see a man enter from behind him, his hand glowing blue. Several 
crates then flew across the carriage interior, striking Franz and his 
fellow guards with deafening cracks. 


From his spot beneath the shattered crate, Franz watched as the 
enemy agents entered, and pushed forward from both directions, 
shouting to one another in a language he did not understand. They 
approached the crate containing the Holy Lance, wasting no time in 
throwing off the lid and grabbing the relic’s case before replacing it 
with one of their own. As the enemy agents began to retreat, a 
series of shots rang out, killing one of the intruders. Franz turned his 
head to see Hauptmann Zimmerman enter, a pistol in his left hand 
and a sickening purple electricity crackling from his right. He was 
accompanied by two other Obskurakorps soldiers. 


“You Initiative rats!” Zimmerman shouted. 


Purple lighting shot forward from the Hauptmann’s hand as he 
slowly pressed forward. An enemy agent countered by holding out 
his own hand, which glowed a faint blue light. The arcs of lightning 
hit a bubble of force and vanishing harmlessly. A woman stepped 
out from behind the man, a suppressed pistol in her hand, and 
opened fire, killing the Hauptmann’s escorts with well-placed shots 
between their eyes. As the Hauptmann continued to press forward, 
she shouted something to her comrades in the carriage behind her. 
The agent producing the force field then clenched his fists, sending 
a wave of force forward and knocking Zimmerman into the far 
carriage wall with a dull thud. The enemy agents immediately began 
to flee. 


Franz let out a war cry as he leapt from his hiding spot and leveled 
his rifle, letting loose a spray of shots and killing the enemy agent 
carrying the Holy Lance’s case. Franz quickly recovered the artifact, 


holding it in one hand and his rifle in the other. He held the weapon 
steady as the man who produced the force field and the woman with 
the suppressed pistol watched him with cold eyes. 


“You have no idea what powers your Fuhrer is toying with,” the 
woman spoke to him in German. Her accent was thick, French 
maybe? 


“| could say the same to you,” Franz replied. “Now, kindly get off our 
train.” 


The man who produced the force field looked at his watch, and then 
said something to the woman in English. The woman nodded, then 
turned back to Franz. 


“Gladly.” 


She, the force field man, and the rest of the surviving intruders then 
winked out. Franz lowered his weapon, then looked down at the 
case in his hand and sighed. 


“Excellent work,” Hauptmann Zimmerman said, hobbling over and 
gesturing for the case. Franz handed it over immediately. The 
Hauptmann quickly flipped it open, smiled upon seeing that the Holy 
Lance was still there, then snapped it shut. “Excellent work, indeed.” 


The sound of an explosion then ripped through the air. Franz could 
see the smoke coming from the front of the train as the engine flew 
off the tracks, the carriages following suit like dominos. Franz had 
only enough time to brace himself for impact before he was tossed 
aside like a ragdoll. 


Franz let out a weak cough, and looked around. The carriage had 
rolled off the tracks and now lay upside down, its contents shattered 
and strewn about. Outside, the sound of gunfire filled the air, 
combined with bursts of shouting in German and English. 
Hauptmann Zimmerman was nowhere to be seen. As was the Holy 
Lance. 


“Oh no...” Franz whispered to himself. “No, no, no, no, no...” 


As he got to his feet he let out a sharp cry of pain. A splinter from 
one of the crates had pierced his left calf, effectively hobbling him. 
He picked up the nearest rifle he could find, and exited the carriage 
into the night. 


The remains of the train lay scattered about the tracks and 
countryside like a broken toy. Only the occasional small fire gave 
illumination as to the scale of the destruction. Franz limped along, 
heading towards the sound of the gunfire. As he approached, the 
shots became more and more infrequent, until they finally died off. 
By the time, he arrived at the scene of combat, the only thing 
remaining was several of his fellow soldiers standing around the 
body of Hauptmann Zimmerman. 


“What happened?” Franz asked as he hobbled up. 


“After the train derailed a force of about 30 enemy soldiers appeared 
out of thin air,” Zimmerman's aide replied from within the crowd. 
“Launched an attack. By the time we got rallied they had already 
killed the Hauptmann and were in retreat. We gunned down a good 
chunk of them before they vanished again. Guess they were just 
after the Hauptmann’s life...” 


Franz nodded and looked down at the corpse of the skeletal officer 
in front of him. A single gunshot had hit him between the eyes. His 
left hand tightly gripped the Holy Lance’s case, while his right arm 
was detached and futilely crawling around by its finger tips. Franz 
knelt down and pulled the case out of the Hauptmann’s grip. He 
popped the case open and looked inside. 


The Holy Lance was still there. 


Franz looked off into the distance toward where the enemy troops 
had vanished. 


“| guess so...” he agreed. “Just the Hauptmann’s life.” 
“Think they'll buy the switch?” Agent Smith asked as he, Agent 


Martin, and the rest of their joint task force approached an 
abandoned farm house not too far from the train wreck they had just 


caused. 


“They will for as long as we need them to, after that the object will be 
long out of their reach,” Agent Martin replied. 


She knocked on the farmhouse door in a unique beat. The door then 
opened on its power, revealing a bright, warm interior. Inside, 
waiting for them to arrive, were several SCP Foundation and Allied 
Occult Initiative agents. Agent Martin gingerly placed the case she 
carried down on the table at the center of the room and flipped it 
open, showing both parties the Holy Lance that resided inside. 


The commanding officer of the SCP Foundation agents nodded and 
placed a large box on the table, sliding it over to the AOl’s side. The 
AOI commander proceeded to check its contents, and gave a 
satisfied nod in return. 


“Pleasure doing business with you,” the AOI commander stated. 


“Likewise,” the Foundation commander replied, and snapped the 
Holy Lance’s case shut. He then gestured to his agents, and then to 
the fireplace. One by one, each lit a candle from a nearby box and 
vanished into the flue. Agent Martin turned and gave Agent Smith a 
polite nod before she vanished. 


“So, like that, we just let them keep the Holy Lance?” Agent Smith 
asked his commander. 


“Do you have any idea how much infighting a relic like that could 
cause between member organizations?” The AOI commander 
replied, drumming on the box the Foundation commander had given 
her. “Some would call for its destruction, others for its 
weaponization, yet more for its historic preservation. At least this 
way it's locked away for all time, and we get several valuable objects 
in return.” 


“Think we'll ever see it again?” 
The commander shook her head. 


“Knowing the Foundation, they'll note its abilities in a file 
somewhere, throw it in a box, lock it in a vault, and there it will 


remain until the Earth itself stops spinning.” 
“Seems a waste.” 
“Maybe, but what can you do.” 


Agent Smith chuckled and nodded. The commander then gave the 
order for them to vacate. Like the Foundation agents before them, 
they each lit a candle and vanished into the flue. Upon the last agent 
leaving, the farmhouse slowly faded out of reality, just in time for an 
Obskurakorps search party to pass by none the wiser. 


About the Serpent 


RA, SHASKH , BFARSAA 
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mK, az, SZ , tee 
4B. 


SOM Z2 , BOW , HALE, RE 
F2i. wilAam JIB. Wr. HS 
DRAB , AMS , ——fFS. 


Back at the end of the Qin Dynasty, when the first emperor of Han, 
Liu Bang, was but a local officer, it was rumored that a great serpent 
lurked in Fengxize. Arriving to investigate, he encountered a strange 
being with the body of a man and the head of a snake. Seeing that it 
was a monster, he pulled out his sword to slay it. Panicked, the 
being explained that he was no monster or demon, but a 
descendant of Fuxi and Niwa, a remnant of the Xia Dynasty. 


Upon closer examination, Liu found that the being wore the clothing 
of scholars and officials, adorned with a white jade belt, indeed a 
well-learned person. He hence asked the being about gods, 
kingdoms, kings, beasts and men. With stories, the serpent-man 
answered accordingly. 


SRA A] ? 


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MRR. MSR AES. APPAR 
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