And so, they waited in silence. When the silence grew 
too heavy, they exchanged stories. Once their stories ran 
out, they again waited in silence. 


"Hey Doc, wanna know something funny." The guard 
asked as he began to giggle. 


"What?" 


"One of us could die in this room, and no one would ever 
know. We would just be another statistic on a damage 
report. Isn't that hilarious?!" 


Researcher Bridge spun her head around to face the 
guard. He had a wide grin on his face and a firearm 
aimed at her chest. Panic and realization hit her like a 
wall of ice. 


"Hey Doc, do you smell candy?" 
There was a flash and a bang. 


"That felt good," thought the guard as he began to push 
the desk out of the way. "I think I'll try it again.” 


For want of a rider, a message was lost; 


Pete from memetics dove for cover. He wasn't sure who 
the guard shooting at him was, but one thing was 


apparent; whoever they were, they were shooting at him. 


Pete wasn't sure what to do, he wasn't trained to deal 
with this. Needed someone to deal with text-based 
entities who could burn you to a crisp and were afraid of 
clowns? Fine. A non-existent country which was spread 
by a phrase? Bring it on! All the staff and anomalies of 
Site-19? Nope, not a chance. 


Pete began to wrack his brain for something to help him 
as his assailant continued to get closer. There had to be 
something that he knew that he could use to his 
advantage. Something to cancel out a mind-alteration or 
shortwire his opponent's brain. 


Then something in his head went ‘click.’ 


Pete from memetics began to shout at the top of his 
lungs; "Does the black moo-" 


And then there wasn't enough Pete left to continue 
shouting. 


For want of the message, the battle was lost; 


From: AIC Alexandra 

To: 05 Command 

Re: Site-19 Breach Update 

The last unaffected staff member, Peter 
Edwards, has been confirmed deceased. On- 
site warheads have been disabled by an 
unknown party. Approximately 83% of on-site 
anomalies have breached containment. Six 
known anomalies have escaped Site-19. 
Please see attached documents for further 
statistics. Awaiting orders. 


For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost; 


O5-1 reviewed the pictures of what used to be North 
America. Sites-19, 17, and a few dozen other strategic 
points lost. The reset button lying in pieces. Titans 
battling it out for the apocalypse. 


O5-1 turned to his fellow counsel members. 


"Gentlemen, I'm afraid to say that the Foundation has 
failed. We have failed." 


And all for the want of a horseshoe nail. 


The Lizard in the Mosaic 


Sicily 
287 C.E. 


The traveling menagerie made its final stop for the year in Sicilia. 


Within its cages, creatures from across Rome were viewed — and 
taunted — by the public. Children mocked the elephants pacing in 
their cage. The camel-leopards, their necks stunted by low ceilings, 
recoiled in fear from the crack of whips. The tigers looked over their 
captors, hungry for actual meat, fantasizing about the taste of their 
torturer's flesh. 


Special pity had to be given to the creature in the farthest enclosure, 
however. It was supposedly young, hatched from an egg no more 
than six months ago, but it already was heavy enough to crush wood 
underneath its feet. 


Nobody knew what to make of it; it was classified as a spine-backed 
crocodile by the menagerie's owner, but it avoided all water that it 
didn't drink. It refused all meat, no matter how much was placed into 
its cage, left to rot. It would more often eat the mold in its cage. 


Eventually, someone decided to stick a plant into its cage. It was 
during its feeding that the keeper was approached by a patrician. 


"Where did you find this?" The man clothed in purple asked. 


"It came from an egg found south of Egypt. Beyond that, | don't 
know." The keeper threw in several bay leaves and looked at the 
man. "It's docile, too tame. Not good showing. But that tail..." He 
looked at the developing spines on the beast's flank. "It could kill a 
man." 


The nobleman rubbed his chin. "My son's been asking for a pet, but 
he reacts poorly to hounds; he sneezes as if possessed when he's 


entities and objects with mass up to 65 tons have been observed. 
Although the new reconstruction can be theoretically postponed 
indefinitely, SCP-964 has not remained stable for more than two 
weeks since its containment by the SCP Foundation. 


SCP-964 will initiate the reconstruction process whenever it 
"detects" permanent data related to its current manifestation. This 
encompasses all known data formats and storage mediums, 
including text, photographic materials, encrypted digital data and 
human long-term memory. This reaction can be delayed by 
increasing the medium's complexity and distance from SCP-964. 
While no method of completely stopping this phenomenon has been 
found so far, protocols 964A6a-r proved mostly successful in 
minimizing the dangers it can represent to on-site personnel. 


Incident Report 964-11: On 22/09/2006, the message "SCP-964 
exists" was used to trigger reconstruction process as part of 
scheduled testing in object's self-preservation mechanisms. After 
the start of reconstruction object was observed to rapidly lose mass, 
until it completely disintegrated. SCP-964 was subsequently 
reclassified as neutralized. Two month after the incident, a series of 
accidents suggesting SCP-964 involvement was reported in, 
Sweden. Object successfully recontained. 


Incident Report 964-23: On 15/01/2008 after a typical 
reconstruction process, SCP-964, at the time contained at Site-30, 
turned into approximately 50 liters of an unidentified acidic solution. 
SCP-964 melted the floor of its containment chamber and 
proceeded to leak through maintenance shafts until it initiated new 
reconstruction process in a corridor four levels below. Site-30 
security was dispatched to the site of the incident. After their arrival, 
close proximity to several video recorders caused SCP-964 to 
undergo a rapid series of transformations, culminating with a 20-m- 
diameter sphere of high-temperature plasma. SCP-964 was 
subsequently found in the debris, manifested as a 2-m-tall stuffed 
toy bear, and relocated to another Site. 


Addendum 964a: In light of incident 964-23, personnel of the Site 
housing SCP-964 are no longer allowed access to documentation 
related to the object or to the object itself. Information included in 
transfer documents must be replaced with document 964-R. 


around them." He looked at the keeper. "I'll give you two-thousand 
assarii for the creature." 


"Two thousand five-hundred," the keeper frowned. "It's one-of-a- 
kind." 


"It looks sick. Two-thousand one-hundred." 
"Two-thousand four-hundred." 


"Two-thousand alone is more than this menagerie makes in a 
month. But..." the patrician sighed. "Two-thousand two-fifty?"” He 
extended his hand. 


The keeper chewed on his lip, and shook his hand. 


Five days later, the lizard (for nothing else could be used to describe 
it) was delivered to the Patrician's villa, up the coast from the 
menagerie. It had a collar that cut into its neck, which was quickly 
removed once the men from the circus had left the villa. 


"Max!" the patrician called to his son. "There's something out here 
for you!" 


Out of the house, a young, sickly-looking boy emerged. He 
approached the lizard, putting his hand out warily. "Does it bite?" 


"Only plants," his father smiled. 


The boy stood to the beast's side, petting its smooth skin. The small 
head on its long neck turned to watch him, showing some sign of 
comfort. The boy did not mean the lizard harm, at the very least. 
"Should I... name him?" 


"Or her," Max's father admitted. "It's hard to tell whether a lizard is 
male or female." 


Max chewed a name over in his head. "I think I'm going to call 
her..." 


296 C.E. 


"Aegis!" Maximilian called to his pet from the garden. "Aegis! Dinner 
time!" 


The beast — named for an ancient shield, after the dozens of plates 
on his back — loped over to her master. She bowed her head and 
let Max bridle her, before flexing those plates down to let him onto 
her back. 


"We're going into town today, girl." He smiled. "Bellatrix doesn't 
believe you exist. I'm going to prove her otherwise." 


He tugged on her reins, and directed her through the garden, letting 
her stop to graze on some of the plants. She had an affinity for the 
belladonna in the garden, though he feared that too much of it would 
make her sick. 


Soon, they roamed through the house, through the front of the villa, 
and down into town. Aegis was a local curiosity, especially 
considering her size; the tallest man in all of Rome was unable to 
touch the top of her plates. She had stopped growing, and with her, 
any interest the common folk had. 


Bellatrix was no common woman, however. She was skeptical, 
scoffed at the idea that a lizard of this size could exist. 


She scoffed one last time upon sighting Max riding it across the 
forum, though this was a scoff of surprise, one that was caught by a 
mug of wine. It spilled over her robes, and she beamed. 


313 C.E. 


Bellatrix hugged her husband as he came up the steps to the villa. "I 
heard about Turin," she swallowed. "I'm sorry." 


"It doesn't matter," General Maximilian smiled at her. "Constantine 
faces the best soldiers in Rome. Maxentius will rout him soon." 


"They say that there's trouble brewing around Tzirallum." Bellatrix 
shook her head. "! shouldn't talk of war with you. The artists are 


coming tomorrow." 
"To start the mosaics?" Maximilian blinked. "What took so long?" 


"| told them to come only after you had returned." She looked at the 
top of the stairs leading to the villa, where Aegis, his life-long friend, 
stood. "I want you to make sure they get her looking just right." 


Max shook his head and started up the stairs, waving at his friend. 
She bellowed down at him in greeting, a sound that carried across 
all of Sicilia. 


327 C.E. 


Praetor Maximillian stands over his mosaic-covered floor, looking 
down at the image of himself, his wife, and Aegis. A section of the 
mosaics had been dug out to portray their child at his mother's side. 
His mother would not be joining them. 


He left the artist to his work, and went outside to Aegis. Max had 
gotten old enough that he could no longer climb on her back, but his 
son walked among her plates and toyed with her spikes as readily 
as he did at that young age. 


"Paulus!" Max laughed at his son. "Be careful with her. You'll fall and 
crack your arm, or worse!" 


"I'll be fine, father." Paulus gave Aegis a pat down her back. The 
lizard rumbled. "She's a good girl." 


340 C.E. 


Aegis watched what was once her friend be carried from his bed. 
She could smell the death on him, but he was not gone, not yet. She 
could not fit into his room, so Max was brought out to her. 


In all this time, Aegis had barely aged, or so it felt. Somewhere in its 
mind, it knew that it was going to die. Part of it wanted to do so, to 
join her friend. But at the same time, she felt hands on her flank. 
One from his son. One from his son's mate. And one from their 


child. 


Maximilian, the old man, caressed Aegis's face one last time. She 
felt him fade away, and bellowed. The youngest child hugged her 
flank, trying to comfort the great beast. She continued to live, for 
them. 


396 C.E. 


She gave endless rides to the children, and their children. She 
outlived several emperors, and four generations of Maximillian's 
family. 


Eventually, ancient though she was, everything had to die. She lived 
for over a century, before, one day in the garden, she collapsed with 
a thunderous thud, and laid still. 


It took four days and a dozen horses to haul her to the tomb of 
Maximillian's family. Long ago, he had said that he wanted his friend 
to be buried with him, when the time came. Decades ago, it was 
joked that he loved the lizard more than his wife. Certainly, the 
mosaic in his house showed Aegis far more prominently than any 
other member of his family. 


She was laid to rest. Years later, a landslide would bury the villa, 
and all the mosaics within. Centuries after that, men would scratch 
their head as the sight of Aegis's form, immortalized in tile. 


Item Description: A Roman mosaic assembled in the 
4th century CE depicting a creature resembling a 
Stegosaurus. Outside its anachronism, it is not otherwise 
anomalous. 

Date of Recovery: - - 

Location of Recovery: Villa Romana del Casale, Sicily, 
Italy. 

Current Status: In display at Site-77's Historical 
Anomalies Wing. 


The Lizard is Dead 


The Lizard was dead. 


SCP-682 lay on its back, black tongue lolling from its jaws. 
Researchers and administrators stood around, mumbling to each 
other. One guy was even crying a little. 


Doctor Blank followed in Agent Friendly’s wake as he pushed 
through the crowd, grunting apologies to the dazed personnel. She 
held tight to every detail as she passed. Don’t expect anything. Just 
look at whatever's there. 


The researchers were all more solemn than she expected, 
considering how far they’d gone in their termination logs. It made 
sense. These people had built their entire lives around this thing, 
and now it was rotting in front of them like a beached whale. Its 
massive containment tank was undamaged. The Lizard was 
legendary — clearance be damned, everyone knew about the dragon 
the O5s kept in acid and couldn’t seem to leave alone. Blank didn’t 
see any damage to the surroundings, which meant someone had 
drained the tank manually. Why? Obviously part of the assassination 
— but if somebody wanted it dead, why not finish it off while it was 
half-dissolved in the tank? 


Friendly offered a handkerchief from his coat pocket, gratefully 
holding it over his own nose when Blank waved it away. She fiddled 
with her eye patch as she squinted at the dead animal. It was intact 
except for a diagonal incision from the right jaw to left collarbone; a 
black substance with the texture of vomit and consistency of 
asphault had seeped from the wound and hardened. There was a 
trail of claw marks in the steel floor behind it, but none underneath. /t 
died immediately. The thing’s neck had to be three or four meters 
across. No way a person did this. They’d waited for the creature to 
regenerate before they struck; why? Did they let it loose for it to kill 
someone else, and have the plan backfire? But whoever released it 
would have to be in here with the intended victim. None of it added 


up. 


A spark went off in her brain: the first sentence of the containment 
procedures. SCP-682 must be destroyed as soon as possible. 


“Why are we even here?” 
“A sapient skip is dead, unsanctioned. That's our problem.” 


“Weren't they just complying with the procedures? ‘Must be 
destroyed,’ right?” 


“Sure.” Friendly’s eyes remained fixed on the carcass. “But this was 
unsanctioned.” 


“Somebody succeeded where the Foundation’s been-“ she glanced 
around, making sure nobody was paying attention to them. “Where 
the Foundation’s been failing for decades.” 


“So we'll give’em a medal before we shoot’em.” 


“Thanks for seein’ us, then.” Friendly's jaw was clenched as he left 
the director's office. Blank sighed with relief as she followed, the 
director's beady eyes trailing her all the way out. 


The site’s administrative offices were decorated like a corporate 
lobby - all wood panels and fake plants. The secretaries and data 
processors working in their cubicles were quiet, like they’d just come 
from a funeral. They lost a friend today. The tobacco smoke was 
thicker in the air than usual, and even the chattering of typewriters 
was dampened somehow by the mood.