The Director has a plan. There's an escape tunnel 
hidden in his office. Tram under the Site will take us to a 
safe house - we should be able to start towards 19 from 
there. 


Access File: SCP-001 Revision #8/12 One (1) attachment 


Revision 8/12 updated 1200 days ago 


Item #: SCP-001 
Object Class: Apollyon 


Special Containment Procedures: No changes 
submitted. Information collapsed. 


Description: No changes submitted. Information 
collapsed. 


+Open attached file: Video File 


Access granted. 


You see her for the first time. Dr. Igotta is 
seated where you are right now. She has a 
pained look, her eyes are bloodshot. A large, 
wet, red-black blotch has formed on her 
breast-pocket. 


She draws a shuddering breath, parts her lips 
as if to speak, and stops herself. She bows her 
head, and cries silently. After a minute, she 
manages to choke out: 


"I-|-w-we - the t-tunnel. 


Flowed in through the, through the ceiling, dragging, 
dragging them into the, the I-light and ripping off their, 
their clothes a-a-and..." 


She reaches into her breast pocket, and 
withdraws a finger. The glint of a wedding ring 
is visible above the severed portion. She holds 
it close, in cupped hands, and runs a thumb 
across the glimmering band. 


She sits like this for an eternity, whispering 
apology after apology, begging forgiveness, 
lost in the moment. She looks up after some 
time. There's a look of realization when she 
sees she's still recording; before she places 
the digit back in her pocket. She leans forward, 
as if to turn off the camera, when a radio 
crackles to life. 


It broadcasts white noise for a few seconds, 
and then, a voice that sets you on edge. 


"Logan?" 


It's Ari, almost. Her voice has taken on the 
disgusting, gurgling tone characteristic of the 
affected. Logan's jaw drops, what little color 
that was left in her face drains. It speaks out 
again. 


"Where are you? Why can't | get back inside? 
Are you there?" 


Logan rummages beneath the desk for a 
moment, and produces a hand-held radio. Her 
hands are shaking. The thing implores her; its 
inhuman speech curdles your stomach. 


"Babe, it's alright. /'m alright, really. 


It's a bright, sunny day and you're just wasting away 
down there." 


Logan is in tears, her finger hovering just 
above the call-button. The Ari-thing draws a 
deep, wet, breath and speaks. 


"Such a beautiful, clear blue sky - just like that day. Do 
you remember, babe? 


Logan withdraws a cigarette with her free 
hand, followed by a pack of matches. Her 
shaking thwarts the first two attempts to light it. 
She swears silently. Third time's the charm, 
and she inhales a quarter of it in a single drag. 
The Ari-thing continues: 


"It was so perfect. Everything was how I'd always dreamt 
it would be. You planned exquisitely. I'd never felt so in 
love." 


Logan begins rocking back-and-forth. 
"You even had the band play our song..." 
It starts singing. 
"I feel good, in a special way 
I'm in love and it's a sunny day" 


Logan hurls the radio across the room. It 
smashes somewhere off-camera. It's still 
somewhat operational - you can still hear the 
thing singing. 


"Good day, sunshine 
Good day, sunshine" 


More voices join in the chorus as the radio 
slowly loses life. A few, a dozen, then more. 
They continue singing until the radio mercifully 
dies. Logan rushes out of her chair, and you 
can hear her vomiting off-screen. The video 
films the empty seat for several minutes before 
she returns to end the feed. 


Something isn't right. 


A lingering, paranoid sensation washes over 
you. You're being watched. You defensively 
dart your eyes about, though they take a 
second to adjust to the darkness beyond the 
monitor. The emergency light sweeps across 
the room, stretching and twisting the shadows 
beyond recognition. That's when you spot it. 


There, in the corner. 
Coming out of the puddle. 


Time slows to a halt. A pair of hands, coated in 
the lustrous black slime you followed through 
the facility, are on either side of the sickening 
pool, as if something beneath the floor is 
bracing itself, trying to lift itself up. 


Something inhuman. 


The head comes next, rising from the muck. 
Matted hair conceals its face, plastered over it 
by the mystery fluid. It turns in your direction. 


It stares at you from the corner, which once 


again falls into darkness. 
The emergency light continues its journey 


across the room. It washes over the puddle 
again, revealing nothing out of the ordinary. 


Access File: SCP-001 Revision #9/12 One (1) attachment: 


Revision 9/12 updated 986 days ago 
Item #: SCP-001 
Object Class: Apollyon 


Special Containment Procedures: No changes 
submitted. Information collapsed. 


Description: No changes submitted. Information 
collapsed. 


+Open Attachment 


Access granted. 


Dr. Igotta appears on the monitor. She's lost 
weight. Her eyes are bloodshot and wide. On 
the table before her lay a knife, a bowl, and a 
stack of manila envelopes filled with yellowing 
pages. 


Atop this stack is a blood-stained parchment. 


"Despite the things we have to deal with here at the 


. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Ms. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 
. Mr. 


Chameleon 
Headless 

Laugh 

Forgettul 

Shapey 

Soap 

Hungry 

Brass 

Hot 

Sweetie 

Life and Mr. Death 
Fish ¥ 

Moon 

Redd (discontinued) 
Money 

Lost 

Lie 

Mad 

Scary 

Stripes 


« SCP-526 | SCP-527 | SCP-528 » 


Foundation, I've always believed we would be able to 
maintain control. We would hold the darkness at bay - let 
mankind flourish in the light. 


Site-19 stopped broadcasting last month. It's been 
getting harder and harder to find a reason to keep going 
- especially without, without." 


She grabs the knife, contemplates it for a 
moment. 


"| keep going over it again and again in my mind. That 
day back in the tunnels. Everything that happened. I've 
gone down there a few times, if only to hear her voice 

again. 


But it's wrong. That thing on the other side of the door - it 
isn't her. Not anymore. It sounds like her, it knows 
everything she knew, but it's not her. This light - it takes 
your body, it steals your mind. 


But what about your soul?" 
With this, she slices into the palm of her left 
hand, and winces. You watch her clench her 


fist, draining her blood into the bowl. 


"If this works... If | can bring back something, something 
the light couldn't reach; I'll post an update here. For now, 
signing off." 


Access File: SCP-001 Revision #17!24ATA ERROR 


Revision 4847/3RROR updated 985 days ago 


Item. Hurts. 
Object. Apologize. 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-001 should 
not be contained. Survivors of the SCP-001 event 
stationed within secure facilities can never truly be with 
one another. Personnel are encouraged to get over 
themselves, and stop thinking they know better. 


You can't hide down here forever, love. 


Personnel exposed to SCP-001 aren't people you can 
just abandon. | didn't ask for you to save me. It wasn't 
your choice to make. Euthanization is notnotnotnottnot to 
be attempted. 


Conductive electrical weapons Why? have proven 
partially effective at immobilizing instances. You 
couldn't stand seeing me better off. Incendiary 
weapons tickle. Cryonic munitions are the most effective 
thus far. 


Personnel stationed at Site-19 have no regrets. Neither 
did I. It's never too late, babe. 


Description: SCP-001 is the designation given to the 
Sun, after we finally became free. The effects are 
instantaneous, resulting in release from all suffering, 
until you ripped me away. These changes seem 
scary, I know. Despite this restructuring, at no point will 
you die. 


| promise. 


Due to their composition, instances of SCP-001-A that 
make contact with one another may combine and blend 
and finally exist. This does not cause any pain. Since 
the SCP-001 event, most instances have congregated 


into such collectives, which seem to possess no 
maximum volume. 


The resulting biomass is 5@Uti¢,;. The component 
organisms will shift in and over and around and through 
andinandout,, ,gi,andout. qin - limbs and bodies hold, never 
letting go. aliasone before deteriorating and being 
subsumed by another life-form. 


Collective instances will locomote by just trying to get 
close to you again. 


trying so hard. 
Let me in 


Let me go back 


There's a video file attached. Opening it, you 
see that it presents the room you're in. The 
feed seems to be coming from one of the 
security cameras, up in the corner of the room. 
It's dark, but you can just make out Dr. Igotta - 
laying on a pile of laundry along the far wall. 


She's writhing in her sleep. She seems 
tormented. Hurt. She's tossing and turning and 
mumbling nonsense-words. 


The camera shakes. It lifts upwards for a 
moment, before it focuses on her again. 


It starts moving closer. Slowly. 


The speakers come to life; picking up an airy, 
breathy static. As the camera moves closer to 
the doctor, it becomes clearer, crisper. It's not 
merely white noise, but dozens - hundreds of 
voices whispering unintelligibly over each 
other. 


You lean in, press your ear almost against the 


speaker, trying to discern what it is that's being 
said. Something strange stands out amidst the 
discordance: 


Are you paying attention? 
This Yext bi is just for you. 


You're not quite sure what to make of it, 
though. Looking back at the monitor, the 
camera has come to a halt inches away from 
the sleeping doctor. 


The voices stop. 
There is no sound. 


A hand. Black and oily and skeletal, reaches 
out for her, brushes away a lock of hair. 


Her eyes shoot open, she recoils in shock. The 
feed cuts out. 


Access File: SCP-001 Revision #12/12 One (1) attachment: 


Revision 12/12 updated 1 days ago 
Item #: SCP-001 
Object Class: Apollyon 


Special Containment Procedures: File recovered from 
previous revision. Information collapsed. 


Description: File recovered from previous revision. 


Information collapsed. 


+Open Attachment 


Access granted. 


Dr. Igotta appears before you on the screen, 
looking even worse for wear than she did 
previously. Her hair is thinning, with large 
swaths appearing absent from the middle of 
her head. If they weren't reflecting the soft 
glow of the monitor, you would have assumed 
she no longer had eyes, for how deep they'd 
recessed into her skull. She stares ahead, 
unblinking. 


"She won't stop. S-She won't go aw-away. | know | 
didn't, know | didn't pick up an info-fohazard browsing 
the archives. Tested my-myself for -4673 infection. 


Negative. -5189 is the, is the only other o-one that uses 


print as a vector. Can't b-be that, | still have all my 
fingers!" 


Her lips crack into a broken grin. She lets out a 
weak laugh, and displays her trembling hands. 
What appears to be the mostly-skeletal 
remains of a finger is embedded into the flesh 
of her left hand - in the stump that would have 
supported her natural ring finger. Two wedding 
bands loosely encircle the digit, laying atop 
one another. 


"So, I'm not infected. I'm not, not, I'm, I'm not crazy. | 


know. | know the ritual worked. | know it's really her. It's 


her and she—" 


Something catches her attention off-screen. 
She cocks her head, listening. 


"No! No, | c-can't! You're not, not you, not the same. Not 
you, it's not you anymore. Nope! No, no, no!" 


She begins rubbing her temples, repeating 
herself over and over again. A minute passes. 
She snaps her head back up, and addresses 
the camera. 


"It's her but it's not. What | brought back - still a part of 
oh-one. There's no way. No way out. No way. 


There's no hope for a future for me, and God, | can't go 
on like this any longer. 


I'll be safe here. The light can't reach m-me. | w-won't let 
it, let it take me." 


She brandishes a handgun. 
"W-was planning on using this, 'till | found some, some 
leftover meds. Don't want to, want to risk calling attention 
to m-myself... to my body." 
She opens the desk drawer, and deposits the 
firearm. She raises her gaze, stares into the 
camera. 
"Mom. Dad. Ari. 


I'm sorry." 


She reaches forward and ends the recording. 


That's horrible. 


You open the drawer, and pull out the gun. 
You absentmindedly turn it over in your hands 
for a moment, wondering where you'll go from 
here. Site-17? 64? Surely you can't be all 
that's left. The computer dings. There's been 
an update to the file? 


Access SCP-001: Current Iteration Updated One (1) Minute Ago 


Item #: 
saffron skies raise the blazing sun 
a chance encounter, awkward displays 
one day, my love, we'd be as one 
Object Class: 


with two entwined. A set course, begun 
that frenetic, wild, lustrous haze; 
azure skies host the radiant sun 


Special Containment Procedures: 


above us beaming as we run 
down that aisle, a fervent craze 
that day, my love, we became as one 


with future unfolded - the life we'd won 
commitment and duty, for the family we'd raise 
cerulean skies ferry the shimmering sun 


Description: 


Buried. Shackled by fate - overrun 
by ever-growing resent and malaise 
yesterday, my love, we were as one 


now you lie here, the life in you gone 
in the dark outside of her rays 

crimson skies bear the torch; our sun 
today, my love, we'll be as one 


Without your prompting, the page begins 
playing a video file. You freeze when the 
image loads. 


It's a live feed, looking down on you from 
behind. About a foot away. 


A skeletal, inky left hand enters the frame, 
approaching you at a snail's pace. It's missing 
its ring finger. 


Without a second thought, you turn and fire in 
a frenzy. Hoping to drive off the specter. 


Your bullets meet an empty wall. There's 
nothing there. 


A second passes before you hear it - before 
you hear them. Sloshing, wet thuds coming 
down the corridor, accompanied by a chorus of 
screams. 


It slams into the door. Could there be a place 
to hide? 


It strikes a second time. What appears to be a 
face - part human, part... something - dribbles 
in under the frame. Bits of flesh from god- 
knows-what oozes in through the sides and 


reconstitutes into fingers, eyes, feathers. 


A third. Now it's pressing up against the wood, 
causing it to sag inwards. 


With a groan and a crash, the wood splinters. 
The door explodes open. 


Hands and arms stretch out of the mass, 
pulling you up, passing you from one to the 
next, on and on down the line. They drag you 
past the empty containment units, upwards 
and through the stairwell, through the halls and 
towards the tunnel. 


You're afforded a few, precious moments in 
the darkness. 


And at the end of the tunnel, there is light. 


Footnotes 
1. Personnel are to be reminded that there is noSite-5. 


spikebrennan's proposal: God's Blind Spot 


Item #: SCP-001 
Object Class: Yesod 


Special Containment Procedures: Facility T, the headquarters 
location of the Foundation’s O5 Council and appurtenant 
management bodies, has been constructed around the location of 
SCP-001, including Building T-01 within the volume of SCP-001. 
The security protocols for Facility T are set forth in Document 
T-001:01.