claiming that I've prepared a soporific-laced gum to give 
to you under the guise of a friendly offer of refreshments, 
thus knocking you out so that | can dispatch you at my 
leisure and throw your body into the incinerator, 
destroying all evidence, meaning that it will never be 
traceable back to me. 

Dr. Glass: ... 


Dr. Clef: You don't look well, Dr. Glass. Maybe you 
should lie down and close your eyes for a bit. 


Dr. Glass: ... Alright, you can go .. 
Dr. Clef: Piece of gum? 

Dr. Glass: ... 

Dr. Gears: ... 

Dr. Glass: A butterfly? 

Dr. Gears: No. 

Dr. Glass: Octopus? 

Dr. Gears: No. 

Dr. Glass: A horrible face-melting explosion? 
Dr. Gears: ...No. 

Dr. Glass: Fluffy puppies? 

Dr. Gears: No. 


Dr. Glass: You're telling me you don't see the happy 
little puppy right here? look, at the bottom of the paper... 


Dr. Gears: | see a abstract blot of black ink...and your 
finger. 


Dr. Glass: ...how can you be so cooperative and so 


frustrating at the same time... 


Dr. Kondraki: All right, so that’s when | noticed that the 
bloodstains led to the janitor’s closet. Sneaky fucker tried 
to hide out behind the brooms and mops while he bled 
Out! 


Dr. Glass: Are you...seriously claiming that you 
engaged in a gunfight with several level 2 personnel over 
a failure to replace the filter in the coffee machine? 


Dr. Kondraki: Well you might not see it as a big- 


Dr. Glass: A coffee machine in a break room that you no 
longer use? 


Dr. Kondraki: The issue here is the principle of the 
thing, Glassy. No filter means no coffee, no coffee 
means tired researchers, tired researchers means 
mistakes, costly mistakes end up as red numbers in my 
paperwork pile. See where I’m going with this? 


Dr. Glass: [pause] Dr. Kondraki, I'd appreciate it if you 
would stop polishing your sword during the evaluation. 


Dr. Kondraki: Bothering you, doc? 
Dr. Glass: [sigh] 
Dr. Kondraki: You don’t mind if | smoke, right? 


Notes: 

As my official statement, | would like to note that | think all 
Foundation personnel are deeply disturbed, amoral human beings 
suffering from varying states of anomie. Except Agent Diogenes, 
who Is a very nice young lady/man who should go bowling with me 
on Saturday. Dr. Glass 


Note: 

Glass, s/he's just not that into you. Pull on yer big boy pants and 
deal. Also, who the hell thought it was a good idea to give ME 
access to these files? Dr. Bright. 


Note: Several interview segments have been altered due to the 
sensitivity of information made privy to Dr. Kondraki as an 
administrator of Site 17. Events as depicted are to be endorsed and 
considered fact for archival purposes. Those with level 4 clearance 
may see Document [DATA EXPUNGED] for information regarding 
the "Mr. Coffee" incident(s). O5-2 


SCP-928: The White King 


Item #: SCP-928 
Object Class: Euclid-exsequi 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-928 is kept in a glass 
viewing case situated at the far end of a 3m x 5m containment room 
at Site 80. The case can be unlocked by the concurrent use of two 
keys. These keys are currently held by Researcher Short and 
Researcher Kaplan. At least two personnel must be present at all 
times when SCP-928 is being interacted with. 


SCP-928 must be monitored with audio and visual surveillance at all 
times. Recordings are to be analyzed by staff at Site 80. 


All chess moves dictated by SCP-928 must be recorded in 
Document 928-3. Attempts to reconstruct the game that it is playing 
are ongoing. 


Description: SCP-928 is a doll made primarily of ceramic and cloth. 
The eyes of the doll are capable of movement and will usually follow 
any person in the vicinity. SCP-928 is otherwise physically 
unremarkable. 


Although its mouth does not move, SCP-928 is capable of producing 
vocalizations. These vocalizations resemble those of a middle-aged 
human male with an as-of-yet unidentified accent and typically 
consist of exchanges of pleasantries or requests for clarification of 
some sort. Upon review of available data, background noises have 
been isolated, which may imply that SCP-928 is producing 
recordings of some sort, rather than producing the sounds 
wholesale. Background noises noted so far include: 


¢ Dull thuds and rumbling possibly corresponding to distant 
explosions, heavy machinery, or various geological/ 
meteorological phenomena. 


Rubber Summer 


“What is it?” 
“I... [think it's a duckie?” 


The two men stared down at the crater in the concrete. It was about 
a meter across, and in the center was a small yellow rubber duckie 
wearing an astronaut helmet. The duck had fallen from the sky a few 
minutes ago as they were discussing the subtleties of pornographic 
acting. The second man bent down to touch it, then jerked back. 
“Fuck me! It's hot!” 


“Whattaya expect? It's-” The first man paused and glanced around. 
There was a whistling sound in the distance. It almost sounded like it 
was above them... 


The next duckie smashed into his car with a loud “SQUEAk”. The 
third destroyed a neighbors’ house. The fourth, a passing 
pedestrian. All around them, rubber duckies began to pour from the 
sky. In less than 10 minutes, East 43rd street was completely 
eradicated. 


He examined the duckie as he shuddered under the blankets. The 
thing was turquoise (or maybe blue?), with little snowflake decals 
running around its base. Printed in black letters on it were the words 
“What's cooler than being cool?” 


Ice cold. A good a way as any to describe the weather. Christ, this 
was Texas! It should never be less than 40 degrees, let alone 10. 
But still the temperature was dropping. And dropping. And dropping. 
Outside, snow began to fall. It didn't stop for more than two months, 
and by then Houston, Texas had been completely buried. 


How long had they been dancing? As long as that damned duckie 


had been playing its saxophone. How long had that been? God 
knows. Five people had already collapsed from exhaustion, and the 
duckie showed no signs of slowing down. If anything, the tempo was 
increasing. 


She glanced around. As far as she could see, people danced. They 
boogied, dougied, thrillered, hustled, monkeyed, and spontaneously 
flailed. Anything was acceptable, as long as they were moving. But 
they couldn't stop. She wanted to stop. Her entire body begged her 
to, but she couldn't. Instead, she just danced, and waited for it to 
end. 


In bathtubs everywhere, children watched in horror as something 
terrible began to emerge from their cherished toys. 


“Ah. Well. The problem, as best | can determine...” Dr. Mills gulped. 
The people in front of him could kill him just by saying the words if 
they didn't like what he had to say. “The problem is that we didn't 
properly research the duckie- objects! | mean objects. We just 
categorized them with the other minor anomalous objects. And uh... 
that wasn't the right thing to do. We never considered where the 
objects were coming from. Or, well, why they were being given to us 
so easily.” 


“Dr. Mills, we can sort out what we did wrong after the fact. For now, 
we need to know- do these objects present an immediate threat to 
life on Earth?” 


“Honestly sir... yes. My colleagues and I, well we believe this may 
be the first stage of an XK class scenario.” 


In Munich, ghost ducks descended from above to terrorize the 
population. 


Big Ben dissolved into millions of tiny ducks, all ringing as they fell 
towards the Earth. 


And throughout all this, the invaders sat back and watched their 
handiwork. They watched people flee from a rubber behemoth 
raging down the streets of Venice. They watched duckies explode 
like dynamite in Australia. They watched all this, and they were 
pleased, for they knew the Earth would soon be theirs. Soon 
humanity would would return to their caves, and the world would 
truly be for the birds. 


RUN AWAY FOREVURRR 


"You're shivering,” he commented, thickly accented voice purring in 
her ear. She jumped, her shoulder knocking against his chin, and 
pressed onwards. 


"A-am not." 


"| can see you, m'dear, if not with my eyes." He trudged past her. 
Even hunched over he was a good bit taller than her, the peak of his 
shoulders a full foot and a half over her head. Not that anyone could 
see her, to make the indication, the only visible trace of her 
existence smears of dirt and the leaves crunching. 


He, on the other hand, would've stood out quite a bit, the horrid thing 
he was. Some of his skin was peeling off. He had grown unused to 
dirty environments. He peeled off his shirt, and draped it on her 
invisible shoulders, where it rested, betraying her shivering. 


She clutched it around herself, and looked up at the night sky 
through the branches of trees. 


"W-we should go back t-towards the town," she stammered, teeth 
clicking when she spoke. 


"Nein. We will reach the next city in an hour, I'm certain of it." 


She whimpered, and followed. Her hair felt tangled, the cold breeze 
made her skin burn, her feet ached and she couldn't tell if they were 
just wet and muddy, or bleeding. It was another twenty minutes of 
walking before she insisted they stop again, and he patiently waited 
as she sat against a tree and picked at moss. 


"...We never should'a run,” she finally grumbled. He didn't reply, 
looking up at the stars with mismatched eyes. "Seriously. It seemed 
like an awesome idea at the time, but right now? | feel like a 
dumbass kid who ran away from home. All | want is a bed anda 


blanket and a meal- even if it's that tasteless shit." 


He nodded, and sighed, a wheezy and squeaking sound. "...1 wish | 
had my books." 


"Central heating!" she suggested, and he looked at her pitifully 
before wrapping an arm around her and picking her up, holding her 
to his fevered chest. She squirmed, but relented after a bit. "... 
Company.” 


"Aren't | fine company?" 


"No offense, some of the D-Class are easier on the eyes than you, 
Frankenstein." 


They chuckled. And stopped laughing the moment they came to the 
same realization. 


"Mein Gott." 


"Fuck. We're domesticated," Claudia mumbled. "...We gotta go 
back. | don't wanna be out here... I'm tired of being cold and hungry! 
And unseen!" 


"And as much as | hate to admit it, | rather preferred not having to 
go through the trouble of hunting." He smiled, slightly. "...1 rather 
liked having access to tools, a lab, fresh meat." 


"Gross." 


"Speaking of fresh meat, if we're going to take going back seriously, 
there's one thing we should very much do beforehand." 


"Yah?" 
He told her. 
She grinned. 


Their peals of hysterical laughter echoed through the forest. 


The wee hours of dawn found the hostess at a Perkins in a small 
town looking up boredly from her example menu. Nobody at this 
ungodly hour but college kids with the munchies and people so old 
they no longer had any idea what time it was. 


She stopped being bored when a monster whose his head scraped 
the ceiling (when he stood at full height) entered, next to... a floating 
coat. 


Fuck, thought the hostess. / am so high right now. 


SCP-542 and SCP-347 recovered in nearby restaurant. 
No incident except for a request to finish their meals and 
invitation of SCP-Retrieval Team 87-Sigma 
["Windowbreakers"] to join them. Restaurant bill was 
paid in full, and all individuals administered minor-grade 
amnestics and preventative interviews. No civilians 
seemed alarmed at the presence of the SCPs. 


Foundation "Soap From Corpses Inc." Business Credit 
Account charged for $25.97 plus a generous $10.00 tip, 
totaling $35.97 


Running 


When you came back to your senses, you were running through the 
woods. 


You don't remember how you got here; all you know is that you must 
keep running. Your strength is almost gone, the air is refusing to 
enter your lungs, but you must not stop. 


Why is that? How did it come to this? 
Your mind wanders... 
It started four days ago. 


It was a normal day. You woke up, went to work, came back home, 
had dinner with your family and went to your bed with your spouse. 


But that night, you didn't sleep. 


It's not that you didn't want to sleep. You simply weren't able to 
close your eyes and dream. The hours dragged as you 
uncomfortably twisted and turned in bed, being careful to not wake 
the person beside you. 


2 AM... 4 AM... 
Keep running keep running don't stop 


Come 6 AM and you didn't sleep at all. But it was time to get up 
again and go to work. You changed clothes, washed your face, ate 
breakfast and left the house. "It's all right", you thought, "I can get 
some rest during the coffee break. Just a little nap..." 


But you didn't get that nap, right? You didn't get any rest that day. 
There was too much work to do. 


Don't stop oh please don't let me stop 


That night you found yourself back in your bed. Twisting and turning, 
twisting and turning. The incessant tick-tock of the alarm clock was 
starting to drive you mad. 


No rest for you again that night. 

No rest for you in the following night either. 

And... yeah, no rest yesterday either, now that you think about it. 
Dammit dammit dammit why am | running why 


Your family noticed. They commented on it, but your head was 
aching. You just wanted them to simply shut up shut up shut UP be 
quiet for a while. Silence was comforting, although the constant, 
annoying buzz on your head was making things worse. 


Yesterday was very bad. You couldn't keep your eyes open, but you 
couldn't sleep and OH how ! wish | could sleep just a little please 
either. Your appearance was terrible, your co-workers said. Oh, so 
horrible! When was the last time you slept, they asked. All of them 
asking the same question, the same DAMN QUESTION when you 
just wished for a little silence. All this noise was making you irritated. 
Angry. You just wanted some silence, why couldn't they just LEAVE 
you ALONE for a— 


You blacked out. 


And when you came back to your senses, you were running through 
the woods. 


runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun 
Your hands are warm. 
runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun 


As you get deeper into the forest, the trees became less and less 
sparse. You have to be careful; you know that, if you trip, you won't 
get up. 


runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunt— 


But it is inevitable. You trip. And fall on the forest's soft ground. 


The woods are quiet. 


With your remaining strength, you turn your body around. It is hard 
to breathe facing the floor. 


Moments later, you hear soft footsteps coming in your direction. 


But you don't see anything. 


They stop. And then, you suddenly feel a sharp pain in your 
stomach. 


You want to scream. The pain is unbearable. But, you're too tired. 
So, so tired. You can't even raise your head and see the large claw 
marks forming in your abdomen, ripping apart your skin and meat, 
leaving your guts exposed. 


Before closing your eyes for the last time, you see a large piece of 
your flesh being ripped off your body, floating for a while, and then 
disappearing into thin air with a sickening noise. 


Rusted Nightmares 


Run. 


The rusted metal stretches for as far as can be seen. The runner 
does not care that this is only a few feet in front of himself. As far as 
he is concerned, the claustrophobic corridor stretches on forever. 
And it does. 


But not for him. 
Don't stop. 


A woman slams against a steel door, pristine and shining in the 
darkness of the hold. Rust flakes from the floor as she throws 
herself against the steel, panting heavily. Her fingernails crack as 
they scrabble against the smooth face of the door, frantically 
searching for something to turn. 


They will never stop looking. 
Not like this.