"Me? I'm perfectly sane. So | guess that makes me an asshole." He 
raised his gun and put the muzzle of the handgun between Andrews' 
eyes. "| mean, hell, look at me. Perfectly good sniper team, and I've 
gotta come down here and do it up close. Can't be satisfied just 
doing it from range, can |? Can't have you just die quietly without 
knowing what hit you, like | did to your girlfriend. No, | gotta get up 
close and look into your eyes first." 


"| know,” Andrews whispered. "| was counting on that." 


"Delta One, man down, man down!" 
"Delta Two, engaging, engaging!" 
"| don't have a clean shot!" 


"Fuck!" 


"Fucker. Motherfucker. Fucking asshole," Clef gasped. He was 
holding in his stomach. It wasn't a good sign, the way that his guts 
were spilling out. 


"Like you said, Clef. Only two kinds of people still work here," 
Andrews said. He raised the bloody nanolathed knife that he'd 
crafted from the slide of Clef's gun, wiped it calmly off on the sleeve 
of his... of her... jacket. "Assholes and Psychos. | didn't used to be 
either." He smiled as he knelt by Clef's side. "| guess, after killing 
enough cats, you kinda turn into both." 


"Fucker. Motherfucking... fucking liar, you said you were gonna 
nuke the damn nanites..." 


"| know. | lied. You should know all about that." 
"Won't get away with this! You'll be dead before you get two steps!" 


"| don't plan to. Because the truth is, Clef, | never wanted to. All | 
wanted to do is to tell you something... to tell you the truth." 
Andrews leaned down close, and the voice of Director Valentine 
whispered into Clef's ear. 


Clef's face went pale, and he shuddered. 


Then Valentine's body stood and turned towards the lake. It 
extended its arms out and dropped the knife onto the ground. It 
closed its eyes and smiled as it walked down the dock towards 
where Beatrix Maddox lay dead on the cold, hard wood. 


SCP-767: Crime Scene Photographs 


Item #: SCP-767 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-767-1 through 
SCP-767-13 are to be held within SCP-767-14, which shall be kept 
closed and locked at all times. SCP-767 is to be held in the 
Hazardous Items secure containment center of Research Site 
Access to SCP-767 requires written authorization of at least one 
Level 4 site administrator. 


Description: SCP-767 is the designation of a series of objects 
which was recovered from [REDACTED] Police Department on / 
‘19. 


SCP-767-1 through SCP-767-12 are a series of photographs taken 
with an "instant" camera on self-developing film that appear to 
be the source of the anomalous properties of SCP-767. The 
photographs are labeled "1" through "12" in the lower-left corner, 
however the numberings are in reverse order to the apparent 
chronology of events they depict. When viewed in reverse (proper 
chronological) order, images 12 through 7 follow a first-person 
perspective of an individual entering a room and examining a single 
table. SCP-767-6 is a top-down view of the table, which in new 
iterations alternately reads "ON THE CEILING" or "ITS ABOVE 
YOU" written in a red substance that has the appearance of fresh 
blood. SCP-767-5 and SCP-767-4 indicate a viewpoint of someone 
who is facing downwards as they are drawn into the air above the 
table, with small wisps of dark smoke or gas visible along the edges. 
SCP-767-3 through SCP-767-1 portray a corpse, initially intact but 
with heavy lacerations, then [DATA EXPUNGED]. 


It is not known where these images were taken or if this was indeed 
how they originally were taken; when brought to a new location and 
kept for at least one week, SCP-767-1 through SCP-767-12 will 


The sniper's bullet pierced its skull just as it reached her, and it 
slumped down on top of her, arms outstretched, their two bodies 
laying on top of each other like two lovers embracing in their sleep. 


... In other news today, Italian police are investigating the murders of 
two American tourists in the Tuscany region. The motive is believed 
to be robbery. Residents of this peaceful town are horrified at these 
recent events, the first murders in over a century... 


He splashed water over his face and looked into the mirror. The face 
that was not the one he'd been born with looked back. 


The man now known as Assistant Director Clef had accumulated 
many scars over a long career... a career built on lies and deceit. 
He ran a finger along his newest scar: a wide, deep gash across his 
belly, where Agent Andrews had delivered a final blow, one last 
Fuck You to the world before dying. 


Memories rose unbidden, the words whispered in the voice of 
Director Valentine, but the words, the intent, all Andrews’. 


"You're not a soldier. You're not a hero. You're not even a murderer. 
You're nothing but a bully... and SCPs are the nerdy kids who you 
like to beat up to hide the fact that you're nothing but a lonely, empty 
shell of aman." 


He picked up the handgun that was by his sink and removed the 
magazine. He checked the chamber. One bullet. That would be 
enough. The rest were gravy. 


He put the muzzle of the gun to his temple and closed his eyes. 
Click. 


He opened his eyes and smiled. "It works better," he said to himself, 
"when you take the safety off first." 


Then he picked up his can of shaving cream and straight razor and 
got to work shaving. He was extremely cautious handling the keen- 
edged blade. A man could kill himself like that, if he wasn't careful. 


Tales A 


A Breath Of Relief No Different From Drowning 


Sci-Fi Apple Pie waited in the crowded mass between dreams like a 
busy street corner of a too-large city, playing with her holographic 
hair. Buildings of non-euclidean design towered above, each window 
a door to some sleeping mind. They winked in and out like a child 
cutting onions. A gloved hand touched her shoulder. Beside her 
stood a girl that hardly met her shoulder, wrapped in red ribbons and 
pink glitter. Golden doll-like eyes watched her, adorning a face with 
a perpetual tinted pout. From her glittering, rainbow hair peeked two 
white cat ears. Behind her swung a tail with a softly jingling bell, 
attached by a shimmering ribbon in a bow. 


"Where do we go, Hans?" 


"Mako-chan, greenhorn." She reminded her, patting her arm with a 
glittering pink-and-gold wand. 


Sci-Fi Apple Pie sighed. "Fine. Brief, then let's go. Mako-chan." 


"We've found a Bryce Fox that has what we need. Big in-between 
place but with more diplomatics. We've got intel that our spiral- 
toothed friend's got an eye on the place. We can inflame her and 
frame West at the same time." 


"Right. Lead the way." 


Shortly after, Sci-Fi Apple Pie found herself twenty stories in the air, 
spraying graffiti over a billboard, painting mustaches onto Qi Shao's 
image and replacing the provided hashtag with a sticker for Oneiroi 
West. Mako-chan worked to flutter through the air with conjured 
sparkling wings, tossing glittering pamphlets below. She scanned 
the faces and not-faces of the crowd. They were all oneiroi one way 
or another. Some West. No Collective, at least, none that she could 
register. A flicker of movement, too fast to be an accident, speeding 
up the building face. "Greenhorn! We got company!" 


Sci-Fi Apple Pie felt something tug a rocket-boot, then slam her into 
the floor. The world swam more than could be justified in Bryce's 
dream. Distantly, she wondered if Bryce was aware of the territory 
spat going on in his subconscious. Someone, muffled, commanded 
her to fight but the dream clung to her mind, slowing her movement 
as if running through molasses. The creature was all sharp palette 
shadows and fever delusions, biting into her arm; its breath 
reminded her of acetone, she remembered thinking. 


She could see Mako-chan slam away the creature with her wand, 
transformed to a nacreous warhammer made to look like a shining 
rabbit's head atop a golden pole. Her captain kneeled down to her 
and touched her on the arm, tsking. 


Sci-Fi Apple Pie was Sherry again, awoken. Hans stood by her 
body, no sign of waifishness on his toned form. He held her by her 
shoulders as she trembled and regained her footing. "Greenhorn." 
His voice was soft. "Come on now." 


" ..Mako-chan?" 


Hans looked like he would either punch her or cry. He did neither 
and pushed her to the floor instead. "Hans Drescher out here. You 
clear your head, greenhorn. Too slow a reaction. Go work on your 
beta-ameilorace hyperglutanomous response.” 


"What was that?" 

"One of Qi Shao's. At least it felt like one on my weapon. She knows 
now, I'm betting. Good. Check the trawler off Urooj's last session 
with Glass." 


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Sherry drank coffee to recover from her first stint at action. Hans 

glided behind her, silent as a memory. He reached down towards 
her. She blinked and looked up at him. "Did you need something, 
Hans?" 


"You're aware. That's good. What did Glass's readings say?" 


"Just one thread. 3 comments, one of them a bot." She tried to 
ignore as Hans sat beside her, too close. 


"You trust Glass?" 

"Yeah, sure. He introduced us." 

"Through a pane," Hans said as he poured himself more coffee. 
"He said it was necessary." 

Hans grunted and drank, then moved to leave the break room. 
"Wait, Hans." 

"Hm?" 


"How do you make a NoPage profile?" 


Sci-Fi Apple Pie 


No Image Available 


0 Oneiroi like this 


Sci-Fi Apple pie shared a status update. 
Klink 21, 20011 


Uhm... Testing... 


Like - Comment - Share 
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Placid Spaghetti-O mitts or GTFO 
just now - Like 


Mako-chan +rep 
2 klanks ago - Like 


Sci-Fi Apple Pie watched her captain with the x-ray vision on her 
holoLens goggles. Mako-chan was talking to something Sci-Fi Apple 
Pie couldn't rightly understand. It had too many shadows to be any 
shape, and yet it formed so many shapes, like a pollock painting of 


conceptual ideas. Too big to fit in the tiny coffeeshop of Cassidy 
Campbell's mind, and yet sitting on the chair and drinking coffee as 
if nothing was wrong. She could tell her captain was having a hard 
time of it too, by the way the ribbons clutched her silk gloved hands 
and her cat tail's bell jingling back and forth. 


Outside of the dream, she confronted Hans as he walked from 
Cassidy's still-unconscious body and out of the dirty apartment. The 
man never showed the hint of surfacing-trauma like the rest of them. 
No, Hans was unlike them all, stiff as a board. He separated as 
Mako-chan and Hans Drescher with an iron curtain between 
dreaming and wakefulness. "Hans, what were you doing there?" she 
asked, before the thought slipped from her. 


"| ordered you to stand guard outside." 
"Hans. What were you doing." 
"Feeling out for options." 

"What?" 


"You've been here maybe 6 months, Sherry. I've been going on 
more than four times that much." 


Sherry grabbed his arm. "Can't you retire?" 
"Ask Glass." 


[THIS IMAGE HAS BEEN REMOVED FOR VIOLATING HYPOINTELL 
PROPERTY RIGHTS 


PLEASE REFER TO OUR TENENTS OF SERVICE FOR FURTHER 
INFORMATION] 


A Gentle Painting 
by FP J—EA 


MbLIGULkD... 


Comments 


Shaper Deathbell Urooj 
Scifi do you need to talk... 


A thousand dead circle the Oneiroi Collective entity as their massive 
form tears into the subconscious territory. The Xiupanians, knowing 
no fear, swarm to kill with a thousand papercuts what they can 
hardly perceive. Sci-Fi Apple Pie watches through her holoFocus 
goggles, painting the world in serene orange and data points. The 
Oneiroi Collective has a temperature of a summation as an 
imaginary negative number quadratic reaches the square root of 
negative three point thirty five. The three of them- Mako-chan, 
Concrete Tomb, and herself- stand away enough to avoid the 
damage, and yet the Collective seems too close for comfort. The 
entity's existence on the same plane is too close to be safe. 


"Good job, Sci-Fi Apple Pie. It was a nice idea to leak the story of a 
West official getting arrested," Concrete Tomb speaks, his voice 
wavering. "I'm heading out before we get spotted." Sci-Fi Apple Pie 
notices that he hadn't moved his stony gaze from the massive 
conglomeration, killing even in its immense death throes. Broken 
Xiupanian consciousnesses float through the milky way in the night 
sky above, leaving trails of moving stars. Their shells crack onto the 
population of fleeing Oneiroi West forces below, catching the wind 
and creating a dust storm through which only a massive silhouette 
could be seen. 


The entity lets out a roar or a groan, and slams something between 
a pseudopod and a claw down on the remaining Xiupanian forces 
making a tactical retreat. 


"Why are they leaving?" Sci-Fi Apple Pie asks. 


Mako-chan puts on her cherry pink lip gloss, the one that made her 
lips look like animated sequins. "'Cause this entity's a scouter for the 
main mass, testing the strength of Xiupania. Qi Shao's not gonna 
show her full might over a territorial skirmish." 


"Right, I'll see you, then?" Sci-Fi Apple Pie says, almost bored. She 
didn't look forward to the paperwork she'd have to write when she 
got out. 


"Naw. I'm going to go take them up on their offer." 
"What?" 
"The collective's offer. Welcome all, all walks of life." 


Sci-Fi Apple Pie closed, then opened her eyes again. Looked at her 
captain. The ground shuddered underneath her feet with a slow 
awakening. "Mako-chan... Hans? What do you mean?" 


"I'm just tired. Of being either. Of being both. You still look like you 
on both walks of life. I'm... | thought | was an awesome marine. A 
real jarhead. The real manly man, clean and shoot to kill in the blink 
of an eye. Used to keep trophies of hunts, mounted and stuffed... 
And here | am... not that person, and yet who I'm supposed to have 
always been." The last of the old Omicron-Rho guard lets out a sigh 
from small, petite lips. "| don't know... and | don't want to think about 
it anymore. The Collective's a big enough mass of people that you're 
not just you, you're everyone else, and everyone else is also you. 
I'm just tired of being me." 


Sci-Fi Apple Pie reached out to grab her captain's slender, soft arm. 
"But the Collective will know everything if you do. New recruits need 
you. Glass needs you. Who will teach your replacement? Who will 
know about beta-ameilorace hyperglutanomous response 
efficiency?" 


A flash of light blinds her for a moment. She feels her captain slip 
from her grip and recalibrates the brightness adjustment on her 
holoFocus goggles. Mako-chan flutters on conjured wings, letting 
out a trail of glitter like the aurora borealis. "The Collective's so 
expansive I'm not surprised if they knew this whole time. And don't 
worry about the other things." 


Mako-chan smiles and cups Sci-Fi Apple Pie's cheeks with her 
gloved hands. Kisses her forehead with her rhinestone lips. "| have 
faith in you. When this is all over, in some other life, maybe we'll 


change to reflect a room within the structure. If a sufficient 
"replacement" is not present, a room designed and furnished in the 
general style of the structure in which SCP-767 is kept will appear 
within the photographs. The individual present in SCP-767-1 through 
SCP-767-3 takes the form of the last individual to suffer the effects 
caused by exposure.