Egret scrambled forward, swinging sword hissing through the air 
behind her, and ran. The swordswoman pounded after her. She 
passed by a group of robed figures who reeked of pulped oranges, 
by solid shadow that recoiled from her presence, and by a man in 
the same uniform as the woman chasing her. He too turned to watch 
her passing. Were it not for the sight of her fellow travelers, Egret 
would have thought herself to be running in place. The distant end of 
her path stayed distant. The footsteps remained close behind her. 
The outside world changed from one brand of nonsense to another, 
rhyme and reason absent from its shifts. 


SCP-878: The Actor 


Item #: SCP-878 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: Efforts to physically contain 
either SCP-878-1 or SCP-878-2 have as yet been unsuccessful. It 
appears by all evidence that SCP-878-1 has no special abilities 
separate from SCP-878-2, though SCP-878-2 has shown a primitive 
sort of willingness to protect SCP-878-1. Their primary effect can be 
completely abated by disrupting distribution and broadcast of any 
media containing SCP-878; Foundation personnel will monitor 
television, film, or any other media containing SCP-878 for purposes 
of suppression. This has successfully prevented SCP-878's effect in 
78% of containment attempts since discovery of SCP-878. Barring 
this, iterations of SCP-878-3 can be contained and prevented from 
harming others; this raises containment effectiveness to 95%. 


Description: SCP-878 is an actor, alias " " (SCP-878-1), and 
a prop knife closely resembling a 6!" century iron dagger from the 
dynasty periodin (classified as SCP-878-2). SCP-878-1 has 
never had a permanent role on any television show, nor a role of 
any real importance in any film. SCP-878-1 appears approximately 
once every months on the set of various television shows, films, or 
theatrical performances during production; the crew forgets 
SCP-878-1 was ever absent, and alters the script to include "him." 


After SCP-878-1's appearance, at some point throughout the course 
of the plot, the character played by SCP-878-1 will find itself ina 
situation that brings it into conflict with a more important character. 
The conflict will develop into blows, which always ends similarly. 
SCP-878-1 will beat his opponent mercilessly, far beyond both what 
is necessary to disable the character and beyond the level of 
brutality typically expected from the film or show in question. Once 
the other character stands for the last time, SCP-878-1 will strike the 
other character with the back of his left hand, leaving them sprawled 


The train stopped again, howling in its manner. A hole stretched 
open in one wall of the train next to Egret, showing a flash of 
something that might have been English on a distant wall, and the 
buzzing reached a fever pitch. She leaped through the fleshy 
doorway, skidded across the hard stone platform, and crawled to her 
feet. She turned just in time to see the tail end of a great worm 
slithering into a tunnel to nowhere. 


Egret stumbled through the empty subway station, head aching and 
knees bleeding. She had been wrong about the signs. They were a 
fair approximation of English, but were senseless in truth. 
Otherwise, the station could have been anywhere on Earth, a wide 
complex of concrete pillars, glowing advertisements, and vending 
machines. All that, and no people. The buzzing calmed to a deep 
purr as she climbed the long stairway up toward the surface. 


The city above was still and quiet. Skyscrapers towered, streetlights 
shone, and cars sat in the road. The wind was dead. The city was 
dead. Egret followed the buzzing as it led her down the street to the 
mouth of a wide alleyway lined with dumpsters. She wasn't sure why 
she should be heeding the noise, but she wasn't sure what she was 
doing there in the first place. Perhaps she had gotten off at wrong 
stop on the line? Egret shook her head and rubbed at her eyes with 
both hands. The things she did had purpose, and the Overseer 
didn't allow for mistakes. She was there for a reason, even if she 
didn't know it. 


The alleyway twisted in on itself, left turn after left turn never 
intersecting with any other path. Two white moons overhead stared 
down like the eyes of an unusually attentive god. Egret's boots 
splashed in the briny fluid leaking from the dumpsters lining her 
path. The slow tide flowed toward a squat stairway where it trickled 
downward. Something like sound leaked out from around the door at 
the bottom, and something like light poured out as she opened it, but 
she could be sure they were neither. 


The nightclub was not so different from the others Egret had done 
business in. Formless shapes writhed to the tuneless song of 
collapsing stars. A bar ran along one wall, and a squat stage had 
been erected again the other. Light was sucked from the fixtures 
above toward the event horizon of a dark eternity. Something that 


was inhuman in every way stood behind the bar, staring at Egret 
with peaceful blue eyes. 


"Yeah, I've got yours," said Egret, unsure of why the words were 
coming from her mouth. "Do you have my boss' side of it?" 


Egret put her backpack down on a barstool, unzipped it, and pulled 
out the jar of worms. They crawled in a circular, squirming tide as 
she placed it on the finely polished bar. The bartender, whose nails 
were filed immaculately, placed a heavy book with two spines next 
to it. It seemed a fair exchange to the gnats, who voiced their 
pleasure in the same way they voiced their objections. 


"A pleasure doing business with you too," said Egret as she stowed 
the book away. Politeness was key when the Overseer's reputation 
was in question. 


" The bartender extended its open hand, sending the 
gnats into a senseless frenzy. Egret swallowed hard and grasped it 
tightly. Warm, soft, and terribly unpleasant. Like sitting next to a 
crackling fire on Christmas morning, surrounded by the empty 
silhouettes of her family, and having her fingernails ripped off. Her 
eyelid twitched uncontrollably as they shook hands, but she stopped 
herself from pulling away all the same. Politeness. The Overseer's 
reputation. All that. 


"I'll tell her," said Egret firmly, turning to leave before she started 
shaking. 


The alley outside was still all left turns as she walked away, and the 
brine flowed back into the dumpsters. She dared not look inside. 
Back through the city streets, back down the stairs into the station, 
the train arrived the moment she sat down to wait for it. Egret found 
the gray-uniformed woman on the train. Sitting. Waiting. She stared, 
bare sword laying across her lap again, but made no further move. 


Egret smiled at her, and took a quiet pleasure in her look of 
revulsion. 


Egret found herself in another subway station some time later. She 
couldn't say how much time later, because she couldn't say what 
exactly she had been doing. Not that she couldn't remember. The 
things that happened since her last meeting with the Overseer 
simply made no sense. She stumbled through a crowd of 
commuters, ignoring the odd looks they gave her as she stopped to 
pick up loose change. 


It took at least an hour to find a payphone still took coins. It was 
stuffed into a dark, dusty corner of the station next to a closet with a 
lock but no doorknob. Hanzi flashed on the screen as Egret stuffed 
coins in, waited for a dial tone, and dialed the international number 
for Slithering Cherished Pets. Someone picked up after exactly two 
rings. 


"Hello?" said a slightly tinny voice. "How can | help you?" 


"Yeah, uh, abject three four updraft nine nine honeydew sincere. 
Dropbox six, high priority. I'm in China, otherwise aggregate green." 
Egret hung up the phone and sighed. 


She rubbed her eyes, then her temples, then both at once. This 
nonsense was the worst part of her job, no question about that. All 
she could do now was hope she had been successful. That, and 
figure out how to get back home with no money, little fluency, anda 
backpack full of something that probably didn't belong in this world. 


« Previous Tale | Maim the Sky, Slay the Sun | Next Tale » 


In Which Dr. Clef Does Not Die, Nor Participate in the 
Furtherance of any Memes, Nor Even Appear In the 
Story At All 


Russel sat on the porch and watched the paper boy ride past. He 
waved. 


After a few moments Russel heard his wife of thirteen years call 
from within the house. He pulled himself to his feet and took one last 
breath of the cool spring air before returning inside to answer her. 


Lunch was ready. 


Incident 0401-42-III - 'Chornobylska Katastrofa' 


Name of event: Incident 0401-42-III 
Report type: After-Action Report 


Filer of Report: Pyotr lvashutin, Executive Director of the Main 
Intelligence Directorate (GRU) 


Date: 1 /0 /198 


Location: City of Pripyat and surrounding areas, Kiev Oblast, 
Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic, Union of Soviet Socialist 
Republics 


Foreword: This is an official report to the SovMin in response to the 
State inquiry of Incident 0401-42-III. The Defense Minister, the 
SovMin, the Executive Director, and the Party's General Secretary 
are the only ones permitted access to this document. Should this 
protocol be breached, the offender shall be immediately removed 
from the Directorate, be brought before the Collegium for charges of 
treason and breaching of national security, and have their assets 
seized. 


The documents collected are from numerous sources, and may 
contain information deemed contrary to the other reports. The 
aforementioned documents, as they are presented in this report, 
have been doctored to make the flow of information more coherent. 
Should a request for the undoctored documents arise, they can be 
attained by making a formal inquiry at the Main Intelligence 
Directorate's Archived Information and Classified Documents office. 


Contributors to this report: 

GRU-P Chairman, Alexei S 

GRU-P Researcher and Psychiatrist, Dr. Gennady Vortikovic 
GRU-P Security Personnel, Efreitor Konstantyn T (Ret.) (Dec.) 
GRU-P Researcher and Informational Liaison, Alexander Ignatyev 


GRU-P Agent and Informational Liaison V Lentivenko, 
embedded within the Pripyat Regional Militsiya 

GRU-P Investigational and Informational Taskforce Lead 
Researcher, D Chernov 

Camera Operator, Reactor #4 Security Circuit, Chernobyl Nuclear 
Power Plant, Vadim K (Ret.) (Dec.) 


THE FOLLOWING IS A SERIES OF CLASSIFIED DOCUMENTS. 
WARNING: LEVEL-C OR HIGHER AUTHORIZATION WITHIN 
THE MAIN INTELLIGENCE DIRECTORATE REQUIRED IN 
ORDER TO ACCESS DOCUMENTATION. NON-COMPLIANCE 
OR ANY OTHERWISE BREACH OF SECURITY WILL RESULT IN 
IMMEDIATE RELOCATION TO POLITICAL PRISON CAMP, ON 
EXECUTIVE ORDER OF THE SOVMIN. 


SHOW DOCUMENT 0401-42-1 


< BEGIN DOCUMENT 0401-42-1 > 
< DOCUMENT CLASS: INFORMATIONAL/ 
EXPLANATORY > 


Foreword: Alexei S is the Chairman of the 
Psychotronics Division, Main Intelligence Directorate 
(GRU-P). He was the lead scientist within the Division 
before Incident 0401-42-III, and has led the Division's 
remnant since then. 


Date recorded: 0/0 /198 


Allow me to begin by saying that, if you are a member of 
the Defense Ministry, you know why the GRU-P exists. 
There are...things...out there. There are things that defy 
explanation. There exist creatures and objects and 
anomalous entities that threaten not just our Republic, 
but all of humanity as we know it. Comrade Stalin, for all 
his faults, was smart enough to realize that, and that is 
why he, in one of his few acts of wisdom, created the 
Fourth Department, Abnormal Occurrences Commission. 
This organization that would eventually become the 
Psychotronics Division, Main Intelligence Directorate - 
otherwise known as the GRU-P. 


I, meanwhile, am the current Chairman the 
Psychotronics Division; or, at the very least, what little 
remains of it. My predecessor was my long-time friend, 
Vasily G , a dedicated scientist and researcher, a 
hard worker, and a patriotic man who believed fiercely in 
the People's revolution. He was always euphoric at the 
thought of improving humanity for the better, and that 
was one of the reasons that | loved him like a brother. 


He and | had attended the : Nine-Year 
School together, both studying biology and chemistry 
and both yearning to become scientists. Vasily was 
always pedantic and enthusiastic in his studies, to the 
point that he often had trouble in understanding why 
other people did not find interesting the concepts that he 
and | did. | suppose my shared interests only spurred 
that mindset onward, to greatness, and eventually, to 
failure. 


We were both ecstatic when we were accepted to the 

university, and even moreso ecstatic when we 
were accepted into the Main Intelligence Directorate's 
elite Psychotronics Division. We both loved our country, 
we both loved our work, and we both loved each other 
like brothers. By all accounts, we were inseparable, in 
mind, in spirit, in friendship, in work. But, there was one 
thing that oid separate Vasily and I. 


Vasily was too smart for his own good. 


Our mother organization claims an official rivalry with the 
KGB for the purposes of intelligence-gathering and 
security of the Motherland, though if our organization 
was known on a larger scale outside of the Defense 
Ministry than it is, there would be no question as to which 
organization would be the more important one. But there 
are rival organizations that exist across the globe, rival 
organizations that think us defunct. Appearances must 
be maintained if all is to be well, so the General 
Secretary of the Party pretends to turn a blind eye to our 
doings, and when we are given an order from the 


SovMin, it is via the Executive Director with no mention 
of our Division by name. There is, officially, no Division P 
within the Directorate. But we do exist. 


We operate in total secrecy. The KGB doesn't even know 
that we exist, which we like to think of as an impressive 
feat, however sad it may be that we aren't permitted to 
brag about it. Technically, we shouldn't be permitted to 
be alive. With every successive General Secretary, the 
Psychotronics Division has grown less and less 
important. In the days of the Great Patriotic War, we 
were regularly in the field alongside our brothers-and- 
sisters-in-arms, fighting alongside the Rifle Divisions and 
Tank Brigades as they drove Hitler's hordes out of our 
beloved Motherland. The Fascist scum would attempt to 
use their own captured beings and artifacts on us, and 
we would make sure to capture or destroy them before 
their powers could be used to wreak havoc on the 
warriors of Mother Russia. Those were our glory days, 
the days of Comrade Stalin, the days of Soviet 
supremacy in the world, the days when organizations 
such as the SCP Foundation were our friends. 


The Cold War was when it all changed. 


Our agents were constantly embroiled in proxy conflicts, 
rumors of strange vanishings or massacres or 
occurrences in Korea, Vietnam, Cuba, and Africa. 
Military personnel of Division P were clashing in skirmish 
after skirmish with SCP Foundation personnel, always 
under the guise of the larger wars that tore at the seams 
of the world. It was in these wars, these conflicts, that the 
KGB, the successor to Stalin's NKVD, became more 
prominent, though they had larger fish to fry than a 
paramilitaristic scientific organization such as the SCP 
Foundation; no, they were organizing rebellions against 
ClA-controlled puppet governments or something of the 
like, work they considered to be above our own. "What 
does the Directorate do nowadays?" They would ask, 
smiling and puffing their cigars in our faces. "Because | 


would like to add 'my laundry’ to the list." 
If only those fools knew.