He gestured to the bespectacled girl with a wink and a waggle of his 
fingers. She could barely decide whether to growl or blush. She 
ended up doing both. 


The standoff was broken by a low cough. 


"If | were you, | would put those weapons away," Percival said. He 
was standing between both groups with his empty hands held out to 
the sides, looking back and forth between them with an expression 
of utter calm. 


"You can't take us all," one of the big bodyguards snarled. 


"| don't intend to," Percival said firmly. "The Library will do it for me. 
I'm just trying to prevent a tragedy." 


He looked up at the second floor balcony, where a large number of 
black-shrouded figures were looking down at the tableau below. 
More of them were coming out from the shadows, gathering around 
the scene in a broad circle... just waiting. Watching. 


One by one, the weapons were put away, and one by one, the 
faceless guardians of the Library disappeared back into the 
shadows from whence they had come. Percival turned to the three 
men in black suits and nodded. "Carry on," he said, "but remember 
where you are." 


"Of course," Dark said, "My apologies for the rudeness and short- 
sightedness of my companions, sir knight." 


"I'm not a knight," Percival said, dismissively. He turned away and 
picked up the longsword he had left leaning against the wall, then 
walked back into the stacks. 


The small man brushed a small piece of lint off his shoulder then 
walked to the back of the room, where a rather nondescript, mousy- 
looking girl was looking up at him from behind several large stacks 
of very old, rather dusty books. "May | sit down, dearie?" 


"If you wish," She replied, in a sundew-sweet voice. 


One of the big thugs pulled out the chair for the short man, who sat 
down with all the grace of a stalking heron. "Allow me to introduce 
myself," he said. "My name is Dark, of Marshall, Carter, and Dark, 
Limited." 


"Never heard of you,” She lied. 


"Good," Dark said. "I spend a lot of bloody time, energy and money 
making sure that's the case. |, on the other hand, have heard of you. 
The last kumiho. Your work at that... convention... was exquisite. 
From an artistic standpoint." 


"You are a fan of the arts, then?" 
"lam a patron of the arts," Dark corrected. "And | wish to be yours." 


"Interesting. Tell me more," She said, leaning back in Her chair and 
steepling Her fingers. 


"Then I'll get to the point sweetheart. Simply put, | am a provider. | 
provide wondrous things to those who have the money, resources 
and sensibilities to truly appreciate them. | can sate any desire, 
quench any thirst, and one of the things my associates desire is you. 
In exchange, | can do the same for you. You can live like a queen in 
perfect decadence. You will hunt prey beyond any imagining. You 
can kill to your heart's content, and instead of being vilified, you will 
be applauded. Congratulated, even." 


"And a whore as well, | suppose," She said. 


He grinned devilishly. "On occasion, yes. But then again, | don't think 
prudishness is a vice you possess in great measure, is it, 
sweetheart?" 


"Hmm. A generous offer. But if | refuse?" 


"In that case, we call in the hounds and run you to the ground. The 
end result is the same. The process, however, is not nearly as 
pleasant for you. For me, however... well... it's been years since my 
last fox hunt," Dark said with an almost apologetic smile. 


"How very honest," She said dryly. "Allow me to repay you in kind. | 
have had a better offer." 


"What, from those idiots who broke you out? Small fry. Useless. 
They can't help or protect you." 


"Not from them," She said. "From their Teacher." 


"A raving lunatic who's read too much Karl Marx," Dark said 
dismissively. "You'll get no help from him." 


"Hm," She gave an enigmatic smile, then stood up and turned to 
walk away. 


Something about her expression immediately raised Dark's hackles. 
That girl was far too smug not to be hiding something... "Wait," he 
snarled, the playful carelessness dropping from his voice like a 
discarded coat. "What do you know? What are you not telling me?" 


"Do the amaryllis flowers still bloom in Elysium?" She asked. 


The chair clattered to the floor as Dark leaped to his feet. She 
allowed herself a moment of satisfaction at the shock in his wide, 
pale eyes. "He's alive?" the short man hissed. 


"Despite your best efforts, yes," She said. 


"And he's still planning to go through with it?" 


"Of course." 

"| see," Mister Dark said. "Simon?" 
"Yes, boss?" 

"Kill her." 


Simon acted reflexively: the gun was in his hand before he knew he 
had drawn it, and he'd fired before he was aware he'd been given 
the order, even as his eyes widened in horror at what he was doing. 
The bullets passed harmlessly through the smiling girl and blasted 
some holes through the bookshelf behind her. A moment later, the 
illusion flickered and vanished, a small, tattered leaf falling to the 
floor. 


A moment after that, three black-hooded figures appeared from the 
darkness and lunged towards the big man. Simon screamed and 
turned to shoot, but one of the Guardians casually broke his arm 
and then grabbed him by his shattered wrist. By the time his brother 
Johan had gotten to his feet, Simon had vanished, dragged into the 
shadows by the sinister cloaked figures. 


"Clever girl," Dark sighed, rubbing his temple. He hadn't expected it 
would work, but it was worth a shot. 


He turned and started walking out of the library quickly but easily, 
ignoring the stares and frightened looks the other library denizens 
were giving him. "Boss," Johan said. "We gotta go get Simon! We 
can't let them..." 


"Didn't you hear a goddamn word of what | told you on the trip here? 
If your brother's not dead already, he's one of THEM now. The 
Library always collects... and they're always in need of librarians. 
We're leaving." 


"But boss..." 
"You're fired," Dark snapped. "Fuck off and die." 


He turned away from the big bodyguard, ignoring the stunned look 
on his face as the man reactively drew the pistol from his coat 


pocket and put it in his mouth. He threw open the double doors as 
the gunshot rang out behind him. A twist of time and space later, 
Dark re-emerged in a back alley in Chicago, with a large black 
luxury car parked among the refuse and graffiti. The chauffeur gave 
him a surprised look, then shrugged. "Where are Simon and 
Johan?" he asked. 


"Their services are no longer needed," Dark growled. "Now drive." 


He picked up the gold-plated car phone and started dialing. 
"Willard? This is Dark. Fast-track the bitch. | want her ready by 
sunset tomorrow... what? Then LET her break! We'll put her back 
together eventually, | need her ready as soon as possible! What? 
No, | will NOT explain myself, just get to work!" 


He slammed the phone down vengefully, then quickly dialed a 
second number. "Marshall, Carter? This is Dark. Yes, | know what 
time it is over there, | don't give a shit— no, | don't care what you 
were in the middle of, tell them to wait. The Fourth Partner is alive." 


"That's right," Dark continued. "The fucking altruist... and he's still 
trying to carry out his fucking revolution. | need all available assets 
under my control immediately... no, | don't need your help, | need 
your fucking resources! You two nitwits work on keeping the 
clientéle safe. What? | don't fucking care. Make something up." 


Dark slammed the handset down and fumed silently, glaring at the 
phone. Blind, stupid, helpless louts...and now even more time 
drained to deal with everything on a direct, personal level, it was all 
so...uncomfortable. 


He picked his chipped canine, glaring out the window, as the car slid 
though the streets like a V-8 powered serpent. Worthless, all of it, 
and all to no purpose, by all rights he should throw the whole mess 
in the fire, and cultivate more, instead of trying to control all of this 
by... 


Mr. Dark froze for eight seconds, then slowly smiled a grin as slow 
and keen as a stiletto in the night. 


Of course. Of course...The little vixen would reach out, insecure 


SCP-856: Leopotamus 


Item #: SCP-856 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: The affected length of the 

River is bounded with four kilometers of chain link fencing, 
three meters in height and topped with razor-wire. The fence lines 
both banks and connects across the river at both ends of the 
containment area. Signs are posted every fifty meters in Arabic and 
English, warning of a chemical spill contaminating the river. Two 
armed guards are sent twice daily to patrol both banks of the 
containment area in a standard Foundation off-road vehicle. The 
vehicle is equipped with a .50 caliber rear-mounted machine gun for 
use in the event of a containment breach. 


Should a civilian(s) accidentally come into contact with SCP-856, 
they are to be treated with a Class-B Amnestic (if still alive) and 
transported immediately to the hospital in Rumbek. Medical staff are 
to be told the victim suffered from an unknown animal attack. The 
use of force is acceptable if a civilian(s) deliberately attempts to 
come into contact with SCP-856. 


Description: SCP-856 is an entity residing in a four kilometer length 
of the River in southern Sudan. If a human being comes into 
contact with the water, SCP-856 appears virtually instantaneously 
and attempts to attack them. 


SCP-856 appears to be leonine in nature. Estimations put the entity 
at approximately the size of an adult male lion (Panthera leo). 
SCP-856 seems by all evidence to be bound to the river, as it has 
rarely been witnessed extending itself out of the water or beyond the 
banks by more than 1.5 meters (Note: see Incident Log). 


Attacks come variably upon bodily contact with the river. In the 
majority of cases, SCP-856 appears within several seconds. 


despite her posturing, but to more... intrinsic aid. Lunatics too blind 
or single-minded to see the danger... and in so doing, they'd force 
the next round, wouldn't they? When the children keep acting up, 
Daddy will eventually start cracking heads... and oh my, weren't 
they acting up now? 


He chuckled softly, comfortable again, leaning into the plush seats. 
Unexpected, unplanned for, and perhaps dangerous, yes... but if he 
was anything, he was a man who loved a good, bloody streetfight. 


If it just happened to take place between massive groups of well 
trained men and women, so much the better. 


Global Memo 

From: 05-9 

To: All 05 and Level 4 command staff 

Re: CONTROL 

CC: Central Records, F.0.B. command datahubs 


My dear ladies and gentlemen, 


| understand that this has been a trying time, 
to say the least. Our position has been heavily 
rocked by both change and attack. Former 
situations, long held to be understood and 
secure, and no longer under control. That's 
really the heart of the matter, control. We've 
lost it, for the first time in countless years, 
we're not in the position of majority and power. 


This is the opening to the letter | wished to write, but | 
can't. We got our heads kicked in, yes. We're still picking 
up the pieces, we're damaged, we're not at a solid point 
yet, and so forth. 


BULLSHIT. 


A group of nothing upstarts kicked in our front door, other 
groups are taking escaped SCP items AT WILL, we're 
STILL not at capacity, and nobody seems to care. Even 


more, these idiotic kids have damaged the Veil Protocol, 
and rather than trying to maintain it, the others seem to 
be taking the cue from them and moving openly. 


We end this NOW, goddammit. | want a semblance of 
control, and | want it right the FUCKING HELL NOW. | 
want SCP items tracked and being corralled by direct 
assault teams. | want intel on enemy agencies and 
teams moving to quash their operations. We are nota 
whiny, hand-wringing group of frightened children in lab 
coats and riot gear, we are The motherfucking 
Foundation. 


They've decided they want to fight this fight in the open? 
We need to remind them why they want us to stay in the 
shadows. 


All MTF teams are being mobilized as of 0800 this 
morning. Special investigation and terrorist cells are 
being activated worldwide. A full media clamp in the form 
of a “Snowblind” protocol has been enacted for North 
America and Europe. Worldwide coverage will be 
enacted within 24 hours. All currently uncontained SCPs 
will have hand-picked recovery teams assigned and 
moving within 48 hours. All current Level 4 command 
staff will undergo a full competency hearing immediately 
after the current crisis is resolved. 


Direct, wide-level SCP item dispatch and authorization is 
currently being considered under the Pandora's Box 
Protocol. 


Control will be restored. 


We secure. We contain. We protect. And nothing is 
going to stop us. 


05-9 


When the nurse walked into the hospital room that morning, she 


found the bed empty. At first, she thought that her troublesome 
patient had just escaped his medical confinement to head down to 
the cafeteria and get a cup of Jell-O or a contra-indicated shot of 
bourbon. Again. 


When she saw the note, however, she realized that things were 
worse than she'd thought. 


Dear O5 cunts, 
Consider this my letter of motherfucking resignation. 


"Alto Clef" 


Antivirus 


Audio Log Site 17 PA System 


The following was taken from backup recordings of Site 
17 PA Logs. Due to the circumstance of their retrieval, 
some of the recordings have been lost or damaged. The 
timeline of the recordings has been reconstructed based 
on the events during Incident 234-900-Tempest Night. 


1-1143: Wastes of skin, revolting bags of meat. 
1-1245: [Electronic noise for 12 seconds] 
1-1247: Rankling little piece of shit. 

1-1283: Foreign [EXPLETIVE]. 

1-1286: [Electronic noise for 33 seconds]ut up. 


1-1304: Level of a zoophyte, suited only for pond scum. 
You are disgusting. 


1-1306: [Electronic noise for 23 seconds] [EXPLETIVE] 
[EXPLETIVE] [EXPLETIVE]. 


Blackguard Feed 087-104 


1-1404 MTF-Q1 (Blackguards), enters Sublevel-C3 from 
Stairwell 46. 


MTF-Q1-1: Stairwell 46 has become choked with debris. 
We are unable to proceed further. We will begin 
sterilizing Sublevel-C3 and head down through this 
section's sublevels from here. 


OP-Q1-1: Operator confirms. 


1-1407 MTF-Q1-4 and MTF-Q1-5 open the electrical 
junction box for Sublevel-C3, revealing the interior 
circuitry, having since been heavily infested by SCP-229 
and partially converted into a biological substrate by the 
effects of SCP-890. MTF-Q1-4 begins severing SCP-229 
using an oxyacetylene torch. 


1-1408 Lighting fails in Hallway 67, MTF-Q1 members 
activate helmet-mounted maglites. Electrical 
disturbances in Sublevel-C3 begin increasing in intensity. 


1-1410 MTF-0Q1-4 has dislodged roughly 50 percent of 
the SCP-229 infestation. 


MTF-Q1-6: Did you hear that? [Insufficient Audio to 
Confirm] 


MTF-Q1-6 and MTF-Q1-7 begin moving down Hallway 
67, using the ignition flame of their XFOF7s to provide 
additional illumination. 


MTF-Q1-7: We got the front, one-five. 


1-1411 All electronic systems in Sublevel-C3 fail 
simultaneously. Wires and cabling begin erupting from 
the walls around MTF-Q1, severally wounding MTF- 
Q1-4, MTF-Q1-6 and MTF-Q1-7 barrage numerous 
SCP-229 instances with chemical fire propellant. MTF- 
Q1-1 engages masses of wires in melee combat with a 
trench knife, while pulling MTF-Q1-4 to relative safety. 


MTF-Q1-1 [EXPLETIVE] they got the [EXPLETIVE] Intel 
wrong again. Since when has 229 been prehensile?! 


MTF-Q1-2 retrieves oxyacetylene torch and continues 
severing the main junction box. MTF-Q1-3 covers MTF- 
Q1-2's position from the southern flank.