"What, the UIU? That's above my clearance level." 
"What is?" 


"Knowing why the UIU isn't involved. Look, I'm just a field agent. | 
don't know anything other than the research and tracking aspects of 
this." 


"Alright, alright, sounds good, sounds good. Show me what you've 
got." 


Item #: SCP-2738 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: MTF Lambda-13 
(“Inventory Control’), based out of Site-12, is tasked with 
detecting and containing SCP-2738 instances as they 
manifest. As tests have shown that SCP-2738 is 
potentially soread between registers and between 
retailers through the use of items anomalously 
transacted using the SCP-2738 program, such as 
prepaid cards or gift cards, a cover story of SCP-2738 
being a credit theft program has been fully developed 
and spread to the upper management of all major US 
retailers. 


When SCP-2738 is found on a register system, the 
store's district manager is to contact Site-12 personnel 
and by extension MTF Lambda-13 personnel for 
containment operations. All retail employees, including 
high-level managers, are to be kept under the guise that 
Lambda-13 personnel and any involved Foundation 
research personnel are FIB agents investigating credit 
theft. 


As investigations carried out by Foundation statisticians 
have shown that SCP-2738's spread rate is increasing, 
research efforts toward safe removal of SCP-2738 from 
register systems are ongoing. 


"Why's this say you've developed the cover? Where's Site Twelve?" 


"Twelve's across the country. Northern. And this is a draft. It won't 
be finished and added to the database until we get FIB approval for 
the cover, which my superiors are taking up with yours." Shaw folds 
the paperwork back up and starts packing his briefcase. "In the 
meantime, | need your help in field work. We suspect that this thing 
is already spreading around Los Santos, and potentially all of 
southern San Andreas if we don't catch it." 


"...And Philips and Townley are about to spread it further, | suspect 


you're worried." 


Shaw sighs and shrugs. "You know more about them than | do. But 
yes, if there are two wanted criminals aware of this anomaly, that is 
definitely something on the priority list of containment. To put it 
lightly." 


"So you need my help in tracking them down and stopping them 
before they cause this thing to blow up and- what, I'm no statistician- 
er, destabilize the economy, basically? Is that an accurate 
estimation?" 


"| mean, this thing has the same economic effects as printing cash, 
but with prepaid cards and merchandise. We're still figuring it out, 
but yes, it's bad if it gets spread." 


"Do you know how it spreads?" 


"We're still in research stages, but based on preliminary tests, it 
spreads fast and it spreads easily. If these two- is it only two of 
them?" 


“Townley and Philips? They've got some kid from the south side 
helping them, | think, but he's low-threat." 


"Alright. Look, these criminals - if they become aware of this, it's 
bad." 


"So we need to stop them. Want me to try to call Townley?" 
"...You have his phone number?" 


"Like | said, the situation's always been weird. Look, let's just get this 
settled." 


"You can't call him and reveal this information. That's exceptionally 
dangerous." 


"You're right, you're right. Standard arrest. Got it." 


"All two of them. Three of them. Soon." 


"Got it." 


"Alright, then. Let's head out." Shaw zips his bag and stands, 
pushing the chair under the table. "Get Norton too, come to think of 
it." 


"He's out, I'm afraid. Gonna have to be just you and |. Don't worry, 
no crazy stuff." 


"Not sure what that's supposed to imply, but I'll take your word for it." 
"Excellent, excellent." 
Palomino Freeway, San Andreas | 10:10 
“You... are a hipster.” 
”...What?” 
“You're a hipster.” 
“| hate hipsters!” 
“Classic hipster denial.” 
“Oh, for fuck’s sake- can we please just focus on the road?” 


"I'm just saying, you think you're edgy when you hate everyone, but 
really you're just a hip-" 


"Do you want me to reach over and steer this car off that cliff?" 
"Ha. Alright, buddy, you got it." Michael chuckles. 


"lam nota hipster," Trevor mutters out the window. He clenches his 
fist and turns around to face the backseat. "Am | a hipster, 
Franklin?" 


Franklin looks up from his phone. "I'm not saying anything, man, you 
know | don't fuck with that shit man." 


"Hmm. Alrighty, fine." He faces Michael again. "So we're hitting the 
old liquor store first, right?" 


"Later, yeah. We gotta meet with Lester first, remember?" 


"| know, | know! Jesus! | just mean later! I'm trying to make some 
plans for once!" 


"Easy, easy. It'll be good. No need to get angry yet." 


"Yet," Trevor echoes, earning a scoff from Franklin. They ride in 
silence until they arrive at Lester's. 


Darnell Bros Textile Factory, Los Santos, San Andreas | 10:50 


"It just me or did Lester give this place a re-do?" Franklin mutters as 
the three of them walk through the door. 


"Hmm, looks like he dusted the piles of shit," Trevor scoffs, clapping 
Franklin on the back. "Nice touch. Let's get this shit settled already; | 
wanna go home and drink." 


"Oh, | would never have guessed," Lester groans, hobbling out from 
around the corner and adjusting his large glasses. "But, y'know, I've 
told you, you will kill that liver of yours-" 


"Oh, okay, I'll just stick to meth then," Trevor snaps, rolling his eyes. 


"Shh, shh." Michael waves his arms to direct the group over to the 
room's main table. "We need to focus! We've got something good 
here, Lester." 


"Mmm, yes, yes, what you were vaguely referencing on the phone | 
presume. Well, | did my research, and what you were describing is 
no known software I've heard of in my time." 


"Software?" 


"Oh come on, Mike, you know what software means. The 
programs-" 


"No, no, | Know what it means, I'm just asking what you mean by 
calling this thing software." 


"Well, your descriptions sounded like software. But you didn't say 


much on the phone, but luckily | did some looking in the old, er, 
‘underground communities’ so to speak-" 


"Some dark web shit?" Franklin asks. 


"The dark web is a cheesy name for it, but sure. You know how it is. 
Anyway, people know about this thing, you know, it's spreading fast. 
Yeah. Got some people trying to get copies of it for sure. What it 
seems to be, see, is a computer program that piggybacks on the 
preexisting register system, and is undetectable unless you know to 
close out of your register system and check Task Manager." 


".,.Which no cashier is going to think to do." 


"Exactly." Lester grabs a pen and paper from the edge of the table 
and starts scribbling. "Now, | can get a run-of-the-mill POS system 
set up in the shop, here. That's not a problem. I've got a dozen old 
machines | could boot up good as new. What | need that | can't get 
is a copy of that program." 


"What are you going to load it onto?" 


"Well, information | have thus far shows me it only runs on Facade 
OS, none of that Fruit bullshit. But that might be because almost all 
register systems are machines running Facade. But we can test it. 
Better to make sure. Need to figure out how this thing spreads. You 
know, so that our next step can be profit. Snag this before the other 
guys, yeah?" 


Michael nods. "Okay, so this- the- what are we gonna call it?" 
"Theft program, | guess?" Franklin shrugs. 


"Sure. This theft program- you need us to break into a shop we 
know has it, and download it?" 


Lester nods and leans on his cane. "Find it. It's an EXE file, | 
guarantee you. Put it on this flash drive and bring it back to me. You 
guys can do that, right? Copy a file?" 


"Of course, of course. What if the computer is password-protected?" 


Lester sighs. "| mean, | thought of that- | think of everything, as you 
know... er, let's just say that it's unlikely." He furrows his brow and 
looks down in thought for several seconds. "A tiny shop like the gas 
station or the liquor store near Mike's house- very unlikely." 


"And if it fails?” 


"Then take the cash and leave and we'll work on hacking later. It's 
not like it's a new thing for you three to break into stores." 


"Pff, yeah, yeah, we get it. But we can't shoot anyone, unfortunately, 
or people will be after us." 


Franklin narrows his eyes. "| mean, you're right, but that's a weird 
thing to hear comin’ from you, Trevor..." 


"Yeah, well, I'm also not an idiot. No body trail, or we blow it. Right 
Lester?" 


"Yeah." 


"Wait, wait," Franklin says with a sigh. "If we don't want a trail, why 
we takin’ the register cash?" 


"Well, we don't have to-" 
"Well, no reason not to!" 


"Shut it, you guys," Lester hisses. "The problem, Franklin, is that | 
guarantee you the FIB is after this. If you break into somewhere they 
might be watching for the presence of this program and you don't 
take anything, they're going to know you went in there for that 
program based on likelihood alone." 


Trevor widens his eyes. "Oh, Michael, look at that! What'd | tell ya!" 
He gestures to Lester. "I told you that there'd be some government 
fuckers after this thing!" 


"Government is after everything, Trevor," Lester adds with a 
chuckle. "This is nothing new." 


"Well, first it's the FIB, then it's someone else. You never know what 


displays a slightly higher specific electrical resistance than ordinary 
cables of its type; current measurements indicate a % higher ohm 
reading. Analysis of a neutralized instance of SCP-612 reveals the 
materials to be virtually identical in composition to regular cables of 
that type save for trace amounts of gold spread throughout the 
cable, other shape memory alloy constituents and further traces of 
yet-unidentified elements. The impurities are arranged regularly, ina 
micro-crystalline structure. 


SCP-612 will not attack unless it is provoked; however, SCP-612 
interprets any attempt to move it harshly to be provocation, 
regardless of intent. If such a movement detaches SCP-612 from its 
socket, should it be attached to one, SCP-612 becomes rigid, 
swaying in the air before lunging at its attacker, suffocating it in the 
manner of a constrictor. After its attack, SCP-612 will return to its 
socket. Should SCP-612 remain connected, even partially, toa 
power source, its tactic will change, using electricity as a means of 
warding off or stunning the attacker. Network cables hosting 
SCP-612 have a much different result — see Incident Report 612-1. 
Testing shows that, even when connected to a standard US power 
socket, SCP-612 is capable of unleashing a charge in excess of 
kV. It is currently unknown how SCP-612 accomplishes this, but 
preliminary research suggests it is related to its unusual internal 
structure, specifically [DATA EXPUNGED}], thus storing charge. 


Current models predict that SCP-612 is directly responsible for 
roughly % of domestic incidents involving electricity. 


Addendum 612-1: Three (3) specimens of SCP-612 have been 
found attached to the same peripheral in the server room of Site- . It 
has since been verified that SCP-612 multiplies by gradually 
affecting regular cables connected in any way to it. Containment 
procedures have been updated accordingly. 


Incident Report 612-1: 


03/09/ 

During domestication testing as outlined in [DATA 
EXPUNGED], the assigned D-class personnel tripped 
and fell, partly pulling out a specimen attached to an 
industrial high-voltage socket. The specimen broke 


government will pull out of its rotten stinking ass when new shit 
shows up, and we're in uncharted territory here." 


"Uncharted territory?" 


"Uncharted territory, Michael. No one outside of whatever deep web 
crack-dealing site Lester's been trolling even knows what this thing 
is. There's no telling what unheard-of government monstrosities are 
watching this." 


"Trust me, Trevor, | know every secret mystery crime-fighting 
organization in the book. Worst people coming after this are the FIB. 
| have sources." 


"Fine, fine," Trevor sighs. "You know | trust you, Lester, but this shit 
gives me the worst feeling, | can't shake it!" 


"It's alright, buddy," Michael assures. "We'll be safe. Hell, we pulled 
off the Union Depository! Not many people can do that, eh?" 


"| wouldn't get so vain so fast, but that's just me. We're a trio of 
fuckups riding on luck, pal." 


Franklin interrupts them. "We can do it, y'all, let's just get on this. 
The clock is ticking.” 


"Franklin is right," Lester says. "You three should get going. Take 
this flash drive and go by whichever store it was that Frank and Mike 
were at the other day. My fingers are crossed." 


"Same. Thank you for your help, Lester. Not sure where we'd be 
without you." 


"Jail, of course. But hey, so would |. Heh. Anyway, er, get out of 
here." 


The three of them chuckle, grab their belongings and the flash drive, 
and start walking toward the door. 


Rob's Liquor, Morningwood, Los Santos, San Andreas | 23:30 


"Cops get here fast to this one," Trevor mutters, fiddling with a 


screwdriver before handing it to Michael. 


"Nothing we can do." Michael takes it with a nod and starts going to 
work on the roof access vent. "This is where Frank and | were at. It's 
this one or we don't get the program, and you know they got looser 
security than the gas station." 


Trevor grunts in response and stands up off the ground, peering 
down the street over the edge of the roof. 


"No one's around, man, chill," Franklin says, beckoning him back 
over to the vent as Michael pulls the cover off. "You stay here, man, 
you be the lookout." 


"Yeah, we'll only be a few minutes. Stay up here since you're the 
paranoid one." 


"Yeah yeah, really funny. Whatever. Look, be careful.” 


"Of course," Michael whispers, dropping down into the vent with a 
loud clang. Franklin follows closely after him. 


"Any security cameras under us?" Franklin wonders aloud. 


"We can't worry about it. They'll see us anyway. You know the drill. 
Look, I'll get the file, you pop the register open. Can you do that?" 


"Of course, man, we got this." 


"Excellent. This is fuckin' A, man, this is fuckin' A. Alright, let's go 
ahead and drop down. Stay s/ow."” 


Franklin nods and positions himself above the vent opening, 
dropping down and hanging by his arms from the edge before 
closing the remaining distance to the ground with a surprisingly quiet 
thud. Michael watches him crouch and sneak over to the registers, 
climbing down after him with a significantly louder thud. "Sorry, I'm 
getting fucking old," he whispers as he creeps over to the registers. 
Franklin smirks and readies his crowbar while Michael turns on the 
computer and starts looking for the USB port. 


Prosperity Street, Morningwood, Los Santos, San Andreas | 23:37 


"Fun work, isn't it?" 


"Mmm." Agent Shaw fidgets restlessly in the passenger seat and 
attempts to make casual communication. "So, uh, is this the type of 
field work you typically do?" 


"Eh, it varies." 


Shaw waits for Haines to provide more elaboration, but is only met 
with awkward silence. He sighs and cracks his knuckles restlessly. 
"Well, as long as you're ready to floor it as soon as you see them..." 


"Floor it? Heavens no, we're keeping quiet until they get back in that 
car, there." 


"Who's that on the roof, then?" 

"Can't tell in the dark. Probably Michael. He's too old for this shit." 
"| thought the file said Trevor was older." 

"Heh. Yeah, but he's not tired... -er. He's a pretty nonstop guy." 
"Always a fun type.” 

"Mmm." 


Both of them look out their respective windows for several seconds, 
unsure of what conversation to start. 


"Shit, they're out!" Haines whispers, grabbing the steering wheel and 
causing Shaw to jolt in surprise. "That was fast, wish my team could 
transfer files in ten minutes, let me tell ya-"