“Well, at least you got that bit right.” 
“Yeah, sounds damn good.” 
“He tell you what it does?” 


“Vaguely put, ‘degrades comparative artistic respect’. It'll make 
people hate the other pieces.” 


“Well, that should be fun to watch.” 


“Yup. Once the building actually contains more stuff, it'll start 
criticising them specifically. I’ve gotta oversee the growth of the 
building for now, make sure it doesn’t suck anyone into the walls or 
something stupid.” 


“Cool, I'll go check on-” 


The Painter ran through the expanding marble corridor, heading 
straight for the pair. 


“That fucker’s here.” 
“Who? Duchamp?” 


“Not Duchamp, you twat, the British fucker. Smearing stencils over 


my stuff.” 
“Shit. Have you told Janitor?” 


“Can't find the Janitor.” 


bastard.” 
“I can’t shoot for shit, man, you know I’m bad with guns.” 


“Alright, alright. I'll deal with him myself. You stay within the building, 
put up some of that stuff in here, do your thing.” 


“Got it. Thanks, man.” 


The Sculptor walked out from the marble flooring to the uneven, 
pebbled alleyway. If you wanted something done right, you had to 
shoot people to do it. 


“You're not even the least bit curious who sent them?” 


“I’m more curious about WHY | CAN’T GET THIS STUFF TO 
WORK.” 


Joey and Overgang sat sucking banana-tasting lemon slices. The 
clay bodies of the golems sat untouched. 


“Seriously, | can’t think of anyone who actually wants us dead. Well, 
us specifically, at least.” 


“Well, after Critic’s lot, we’re probably the biggest game in town.” 
“You don’t think The Critic did this, do you?” 


“Oh, hell no. He’s not an idiot, if he wanted us dead he’d at least do 
it cleanly.” 


“Wait, should we maybe check on the others? Make sure they’re all 
okay?” 


“Eh, they’re probably fine. Everyone here can take care of 


themselves.” 
“True. | just want to know-” 


HOOQOQOQOOQQOOOOQOOQOOOQOOOO0OONK 


“Alright, top-hatted not-evil-not-robot-me, we make a pretty 
awesome duet! Hi-five!” 


Annie slapped the hand of her duplicate golem and new friend. It 
was like she’d found the sister she never had. 


“Okay, our next song’s a nice, soft-” 


HOOQOQOQOOQOQOOOOQOOQOQOOOOOOO0ONK 


“We’re going critical!” 


You braced yourself as the art bomb exploded outwards in a flash of 
colour, coating the courtyard with technicoloured ooze. Hiro wiped 
the blue from his face, glad that it had worked, while Arsehole 
jumped and cheered and demanded to do it again. You started to 
say something, but then 


HOOQOQOQOQOQOOOOQOQOOOOOOOOONK 


Felix continued making his way through the crowd, then suddenly 
bumped into a towering black figure. 


“Apologies, I... oh. Hello, old friend.” 

The Janitor turned around, gas mask filter buzzing. 
“Greetings, Felix. Long time, no see.” 

“Enjoying yourself?” 

“lam on watch tonight. This is not a safe place.” 


Felix chuckled. 


by this point, subject was encouraged to continue to 
climb and to describe anything that they saw. After 
approximately twelve minutes, subject began speaking 
rapidly in to the microphone, but the signal was much too 
degraded to understand words. With the prospect of a 
potential discovery, and the fact that cables had 
remained taut until this point, the decision was made to 
retract the cables and recover the subject. After no 
strong resistance was met, and after five minutes subject 
was pulled to the entrance. 


Although still alive at this point, the subject's physical 
appearance was significantly altered. Muscle mass had 
diminished greatly, hair had thinned and skin was 
extremely dry and discoloured. Although it had become 
loose and wrinkled in some areas, in other areas it was 
extremely taut, most notably on the face, atypical of 
normal human aging. The subject was not observed to 
blink during the four minute period before expiry, and 
was in a state of extreme distress. Though most of what 
was said during this time is unintelligible, subject refers 
at one point to what is possibly 'door' or 'the door’, and 
refers several times to ‘dark’, 'mark' or'f '. Several 
broken and fractured bones were determined 
postmortem, believed to be a result of the subject's 
forced extraction. Although the subject did not complain 
of pain during the climb, bones were also shown to have 
been leached of minerals, joints had calcified into severe 
arthritis, tumorous growths were found behind the 
subject’s right eyeball and in the prostate, and several 
ulcers were found in the stomach lining. 


Notes: The statements made by the subject may suggest 
that SCP-723 may terminate shortly after the fourth floor. 
The fact that lucidity also remains suggests that there 
may be limitations to the compulsions caused by 
SCP-723's, if they are present at all. 


« SCP-722 | SCP-723 | SCP-724 » 


“I’ve been in less safe places, friend, don’t you-” 


HOOQOQOQOQOQOOOOOQOQOOO0OO0OO0OO0ONK 


Rita continued her show. Thousands of invisible spiders crawled 
around her miniature circus, juggling lint balls, bending paperclips, 
and least impressively of all, swinging unseen from trapezes. Next 
time, she thought, she should dip them in paint before bringing them 
along. That, or knit them some tiny jumpsuits. She offered a finger 
for one of them to climb onto, when 


HOOQOQOQOQOQOQOOOQOOOO0OOOOONK 


Ruiz Duchamp heard a sound in the distance. 


hooooocooonk 


The Sculptor stalked his prey as subtly as possible. He had seen the 
figure deface two sets of posters, and knew the location of the next 
one that he would be targeting. He started running down a 
backstreet, planning to overtake, when 


HOOOQQQQQOQOOOOOOOOO0OOONK 
The Painter was putting up his posters inside of The Builder's 


growing exhibition hall. The Composer’s music played in the 
background. 


“Hang on. If | put these up inside here, isn’t the music going to make 
everyone hate them anyway?” 


HOOQOQOOOQOQOOOOOQOQOOOOOOOONK 


The Critic heard a sound in the distance. 


hooooocooonk 


Tangerine sat near his work, watching the delicate colours fluctuate. 
Even though he was an Agent, he still enjoyed creating art. He 
enjoyed messing with the fabric of reality. It always had an air of 
romance to it, and from here, he had gained an appreciation for it. 
Perhaps, after they let him go, he could find a nice little cottage in 
the hills and paint landscapes. But of course, after what he’d seen 
here, how could simple painting ever compare? He’d seen prodigies 
craft miracles with nothing more than their fingertips, and as much 
as he had been told that was a bad thing over and over again, 
through the GOC training, through the Foundation... all he’d seen 
was happy people, making each other happy through 


HOOQOQOQOQOQOOOOQOOQOOOO0O0OO0OOONK 


Agent Green approached the corpse pile. It was smack-bang in the 
central courtyard. He mentally assigned it as his primary cleanup 
priority. He’d have to check all the people in there, find out who they 
actually were, inform next of kin. It'd be a long and arduous task, but 
someone had to do it. Green didn’t mind. It was important work. He 
was making a difference. 


HOOQOQOQOQOQOOOOQOQOQOOOOOOOONK 


Green looked up at the blasting horn noise from above. A bulging 
red balloon was suspended from the building tops, an enormous 
speaker stuck to the bottom. He instinctively moved his hand to his 
pistol, tightening his grip. The speaker spouted a heavily distorted 
voice message. 


“HEY GUYS! SORRY | COULDN'T MAKE IT, BUT IM SURE YOU 
UNDERSTAND. YOU KNOW, THINGS TO DO, PEOPLE TO KILL. 
SOME OF YOU HAVE GOTTEN TO KNOW ME INTIMATELY 
OVER THE LAST FEW DAYS, AND YOU KNOW, I'VE REALLY 
ENJOYED CREEPING THE FUCK OUT OF YOU. BUT IT’S ABOUT 
TIME TO END THE SHITTY LITTLE CHARADE.” 


Agent Green was well and truly spooked. The speaker would be 
loud enough to be heard through the entire city. 


“I’M NOT AS CRAZY AS | SEEMED. OR, RATHER, I'M AS CRAZY 


AS | SEEMED AND QUITE A BIT MORE. I’M GOING TO BE 
HONEST HERE, THE CORPSES DIDN’T EVEN MAKE THAT 
COMFORTABLE A SEAT. BUT ONCE YOU GET ONE, YOU’VE 
JUST GOT TO COLLECT THEM ALL, AM | RIGHT? ANYWAY. 
SORRY TO HAVE MISLED YOU, BUT I'VE FRANKLY NO 
INTEREST IN YOUR LITTLE GANG ANY MORE. YOU’RE 
BORING, YOU’RE BLASE, YOU’RE FUCKING BLAND. THERE IS 
ONE LITTLE THING THAT | THINK PLL KEEP FROM OUR 
EXCHANGES, THOUGH. I'VE ALWAYS WANTED A 
CATCHPHRASE.” 


Agent Green prepared himself for the worst. 
“SNIP. SNIP. SNIP.” 


With the final SNIP, the balloon fell. It moved downwards, almost in 
slow motion, directly hitting the centre of the corpse pile. The sides 
bulged, and the balloon popped from the impact, a minty green ooze 
bursting from within. He had prepared himself for the worst, but he 
had not prepared himself for this. Agent Green had only one 
horrified thought running through his head. 


Dead Bodies. 


Thank God It's Friday 
« Final Attack Orders | Hub | Insufficient Clearance » 


Insufficient Clearance 


Agent Green opened his eyes. 
“Agent Green.” 


An unfamiliar, suited figure sat across the desk from him. Green 
became uncomfortably aware that he was still wearing a hoodie and 
sweatpants. 


“Where am |?” 


“In my office. We’ve never met, and after this conversation, we'll 
likely never meet again.” 


“Who are you?” 


The figure strtummed a chord on a ukulele he seemingly pulled from 
nowhere. Green’s eyes widened, his palms felt suddenly sweaty. 
Clef chuckled to himself, appreciating the reaction. 


“Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble. What’s the last thing that you 
remember?” 


“Sir, uh... | was at an Artist exhibition, | remember that... and then 
something made a loud noise. Like, a really loud honk. Nothing after 
that.” 


“Great. Well, first things first, you’ve just finished voluntarily dosing 
yourself with a targeted amnestic.” 


Green noticed the still-dripping syringe on the floor next to him. 


“You did this because you observed a severe containment breach 
concerning SCP-447, during which you were temporarily briefed on 
its effects to aid with re-containment. You still have insufficient 
clearance to know the effect of 447, though, so that takes care of 
that. You also did this because you really, really did not want to 


remember what happened last night.” 


Green massaged his temples. He’d read the 447 file hundreds of 
times, constantly wondering what the minty goo actually did to 
necrotic flesh. Perhaps it wasn’t worth knowing after all. 


“A delivery vehicle loaded with SCP-447-2 left this site yesterday 
morning. When it arrived at its destination, late last night, the vehicle 
was completely empty. We don’t yet know how it got from the 
vehicle to the ‘exhibition’, as our satellite imaging doesn’t show any 
interference. The good news, at least, is that all 447-2 has been 
accounted for.” 


“So, wait, what exactly happened?” 


“Like | said, you’ve not got the clearance for me to tell you some of 
the finer details. You performed extremely well considering how little 
information you had; I'll be looking into getting you a commendation 
for it, even if you’ve no idea what you did. Only twenty seven 
fatalities, all civilians. It could have been a lot worse if you weren’t 
there. The breach was caused by someone you referred to in your 


799 


report as ‘The Snipper’. 
“My report?” 


“Yes, the one you handed to me just before stabbing yourself with 
that needle.” 


Clef held up a manila folder. 
“Of course, | can’t give this back to you just yet. Need to black out a 


few things.” 


Standard Incident Report Form 
Document Reference Number: SCP-447-BSC-4039 
Author: Field Agent Green 


Condensed Summary Of Relevant Events 


1700: Arrived at by car. Walked around west courtyard. 
1705: Walked from west courtyard to central courtyard. 


1707: Discovered pile of dead bodies. 

1708: Sampled fingerprints and hair from two bodies. 

1710: Walked to car via west courtyard. 

1713: Returned to car. Ran samples through database, no results. 
(sample analysis available on Foundation intranet) 

1715: Walked to north courtyard via west and central courtyards. 
Noted marble structure had been constructed in west courtyard 
since 1710. 

1716: Rendezvous with Agent Tangerine. 

1719: 

1720: 

1725: Returned to central courtyard. 

1727: Honk event occurs. 

1728: Pre-recorded message, later positively identified as person of 
interest 'The Snipper’, starts to play. 

1729: Balloon filled with SCP-447-2 is dropped onto pile of dead 
bodies. 

1730: Balloon bursts. In under two seconds from impact, a tall 
humanoid wearing a gas mask and black trenchcoat, henceforth 
referred to as 'Trenchcoat' for brevity, 


1731: Trenchcoat . Agent Green opens fire 
on . Two civilians , later found dead via 
1732: Most dead bodies have ; Trenchcoat 

. Three plainclothes Agents, as well as two Artists, 
attempt to , which proves unsuccessful, 
instead . Mass panic ensues due to a combination of 


and gunfire, most civilians and Rulisis attempting to 

evacuate the area. 
: destroying seven anomalous art installations 

and killing two civilians. 
1733: Trenchcoat continues to , greatly 
reducing of SCP-447-2. Agent Green contacts Site- 
and reports SCP-447 containment breach, requesting as much 
support as possible. Deploying is recommended against due 
to positioning near a major civilian centre, as well as potentially 
affecting containment procedures for SCP-__, as well as 


1734: Two Artists, later identified as persons of interest Overgang 
Dood and Joseph Tamlin, attempt to in 


support of Trenchcoat. Trenchcoat continues to 
, using anomalous items from within its coat to 
. After triple-confirming identity 
and proving urgent requirement of such information, Agent Green is 


briefed on the primary, effects of SCP-447-2 remotely. 
1735: The Artist known as attempts to aid civilians to safety, by 
using paint and stencils to , creating an anomalous 
evacuation point leading to a nearby carpark. continues to 
create further evacuation points over the course of the next three 
minutes. Joseph Tamlin uses in conjunction with 

. Trenchcoat 
continues . Agent Green resumes fire on 


: results in the 
death of a further five civilians. 


1736: , Trenchcoat . Agent 
Green . Overgang Dood aids Joseph Tamlin in 

by : : 
SCP-447-2 five deceased civilians, causing further 


and impeding civilian evacuation. 
1737: Joseph Tamlin makes a phone call to an unknown number 
while Overgang Dood 


. SCP-447-2 
1738: , still in the process of creating additional evacuation 
points, is attacked by person of interest 'The Sculptor’, who opens 
fire. is shot once in the shoulder before painting a , which 


. The Sculptor notices , yelling "WHAT 
THE FUCK, SNIPPER?" and beginning : 
continued exponentially, but 
Trenchcoat completes , begins 
bifurcation. 
1739: SCP-447-2 
further casualties and increased levels of 
reduced capacity for 


Agent Green but is unable to prevent seven 


further casualties via . Casualties are promptly ; 
Trenchcoat. 
1740: SCP-447-2 
Trenchcoat, ; 
, Agent Green civilian safety. 
Agent Tangerine arrives at central courtyard, aids using 
an anomalous requisitioned from local artist. 


(later contained and assigned as SCP- _) 
1741: Artist, later identified as person of interest 'Melanoma’, 
approaches , appearing to be a modified 

, henceforth referred to as an ‘art bomb’. Art bomb is used to 


, screaming into phone "FUCKING BLOW IT!". Art bomb 


expanding unexpected 
interaction with SCP-447-2 
causing two previous casualties to after 
contact. SCP-447-2 near-critical mass; 
however, Trenchcoat : 
1742: , however, are not in 


fact organic, but anomalous duplicates primarily composed of clay. 
As such, exposure to SCP-447-2 does not result in 
. Original , identified as members 
of anomalous musician group "Futanari Titwhore Fiasco", 
. Agents Green and Tangerine continue