When the perp turned to face him, he saw the guy's 
hands start to come up, holding his little submachinegun, 
so Jeff put two in his chest and one in his head. It was 
done before his heart beat once. 


The guy fell down and sprawled on the bloody and 
broken mall floor like a discarded doll. Jeff swallowed 
hard. It wasn't the first time he'd fired his gun at another 
human being, but all his fighting in the sandbox had been 
at long range, shooting his .50 cal at houses from the 
next sand dune over. He was sure he'd killed some 
people in his time in the Marines, but this was the first 
time he'd been close enough to touch the guy as he died. 
Seeing the light leave the guy's eyes from this close- 


ie: 


"GET DOWN ON THE FUCKING GROUND RIGHT THE 
FUCK NOW!" someone screamed, and Jeff winced 
inwardly. He was suddenly very aware that he was a big 
black man with a gun standing in the middle of a bunch 
of dead guys. He very carefully put his pistol down on the 
ground and slid it into the corner, then lay down in a 
puddle of sticky wet nastiness and put his hands on his 
head. 


Someone ran up to him and put a knee in the small of his 
back. "Check my inside left coat pocket," Jeff said, slowly 
and calmly. 


"SHUT THE FUCK UP, ASSHOLE! DON'T SAY A 
FUCKING WORD!" the guy screamed. 


"Brad?" an older, wiser voice said. "Check his fucking 
coat pocket already before you say something really 
dumb." 


Trembling hands reached into his leather jacket pocket 
and fumbled out the wallet from his jacket. A few 
moments later, the pressure on his back let up, and 
someone reached a hand down to help him to his feet. 
Jack looked up into the face of a big, balding white guy 
with an impressive red beard, wearing a light grey rent-a- 
cop outfit. 


"Officer," the guard said. 


"Holy crap, Jeff, you look like hell," Captain McCoy 
sighed. "| thought this was supposed to be your day off." 


"You know me, sir," Jeff said, smiling weakly. "I like to 
take my work home with me." 


"Nobody likes a workaholic, Jeff. Did you give your 
statement yet?" 


"Rog took it down a few minutes ago," Jeff admitted. "I'm 
just waiting for someone to tell me | can leave." 


"Well, then, consider this an order: go home. Get some 
rest. Don't bother coming in tomorrow, you can have the 
day off. But don't leave town either, just in case someone 
needs to talk to you. Kay?" 


"Yes, sir," Jeff sighed. 


He got up and picked up the big plastic bag by his feet. It 
took him a moment to find Roger in the crowd: He finally 
found the detective standing in the parking lot, standing 
over a dead body lying on the concrete with its head at 
an oddly skewed angle. "What the fuck happened here?" 
Jeff asked. 


"Not sure. Looks like one of the perps ran for it and fell 


Designation 
SCP-857-1a 


SCP-857-1b 


SCP-857-1c 


SCP-857-1d 


SCP-857-1e 


Further information 
Each specimen of SCP-857-1a is 
composed primarily from a human 
head. Unnatural bone growths 
have given SCP-857-1a two (2) 
rudimentary arms and six (6) legs. 
SCP-857-1a moves in a manner 
similar to that of a crab. 
SCP-857-1a specimens are 
scavengers, and have been 
observed consuming carrion left 
by predators. 
Each specimen of SCP-857-1b is 
composed of one (1) human vein. 
SCP-857-1b specimens move in 
a manner similar to that of worms. 
SCP-857-1b specimens are 
herbivores, and have been 
observed eating plants fallen onto 
the forest fioor. 
Each specimen of SCP-857-1c is 
composed of human brain tissue. 
SCP-857-1¢c specimens move 
similarly to slugs and leave a 
slimy trail behind them. 
SCP-857-1c instances have been 
observed to consume 
SCP-857-1b specimens. 
Each specimen of SCP-857-1d is 
composed primarily of a lower 
intestine. SCP-857-1d specimens 
are aquatic, and reside in the river 
that runs through SCP-857. 
SCP-857-1d specimens have 
been observed to consume 
underwater piants. 
Each specimen of SCP-857-1e is 
composed of a human spine. 
SCP-857-1e moves in the manner 
of a centipede using irregular 


down the stairs, broke his neck. What's up?" 


Jeff handed the big white plastic bag to Rog, who looked 
inside and nodded. "I'll find someone to take care of it," 
Rog said. "Go home. Get some rest." 


Jeff nodded back and wearily walked to his car. He got 
behind the front seat and took a moment to close his 
eyes and rub his forehead. Then he took out his phone 
and held down the "1" key for a few seconds. 


The phone picked up before it rang twice. "Jeff?" a 
warm, female voice said. 


"Hi, Tanya," Jeff replied. "How are you?" 

"I'm fine... are you okay, Jeff?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you watching the news?" 
"Yes, | heard... oh my god, Jeff, was that you?" 


"Yeah," Jeff admitted. "That was me. I'm fine, but McCoy 
needs me to stay in town for a few days, in case the 
cops or press want to talk to me. So... I'm sorry, but | 
won't be able to make it out tomorrow for little Jeff's 
birthday. I'll have someone deliver his present, though." 


"| understand. Do you want to talk to him right now?" 


"Sure, Tanya. I'd appreciate that. Hi, kiddo, how's it 
going? You saw me on the news? Yeah, that's your dad, 
all right. No, I'm fine, son. It'll take more than a couple of 
bad guys to get me, you know that. Look, something's 
come up, and | won't be able to come to your party 
tomorrow: your dad's captain needs him to stay in town 
and help him to figure out who these bad guys were, but 
I'll make sure you get your present. So be good to your 
Mom, okay, son? I'll try to see you next weekend. And 
don't worry. Everything's gonna work out in the end." 


+ A Wider Perspective 


A Wider Perspective 


| don't see why you need me to do this. You can just 
read the damn transcripts or look at the video records. 
Oh yeah? Well, fuck yer "subjective point of view." Fine, 
fine, whatever, don't get yer panties in a bunch. I'm just 
saying there ain't much | can tell you that you don't 
already know. 


Where do | start... well, Tempest Night happened, and 
suddenly we've got a lot of agents being redirected to 
deal with the consequences. MC&D pokin' around our 
territory, tons of escaped skips all over the place, buncha 
MTFs being reassigned to handle that clusterfuck, which 
means a lot of missions are running short-handed, which 
means they had to reassign some of us to deal with, you 
know, actually finding and capturing skips. 


So they put me and the kid into an investigative cell 
trying to find some guy who can bend bricks with his 
bare hands. Yeah, | said bend bricks. No, don't ask me 
how that shit works. Mine is not to reason why. That's 
your fucking job. 


So as | was saying, this cell was short-handed because 
their former mission controller was reassigned to look for 
Vector: he was on the team that originally brought her in, 
so they decided they needed his "unique expertise." 
They didn't need the rest of the team, so they could keep 
on the mission. But the team needed a new mission 
controller... so, of course, they decide to tap good ol’ 
Max and his newbie friend to watch the camera feeds. 


So anyway, we track this guy to a shopping mall, and 
we're doing a shadow and investigate: two teams of two 
walking around the mall keeping an eye on this guy to 
make sure he's not trying anything too hinky. What? Of 


course they were armed, are you stupid? Don't give me 
that shit: you know what can happen on this job, and it's 
a damn good thing they were armed, or shit might have 
gone down different. Way different. Don't give me that 
bullshit, these guys were pros, not trigger-happy goons. 
No, | hadn't worked with them that long, but after enough 
years on this job you get a feel for this sorta thing. You 
can tell a pro from an goon easy, and these guys were 
pros. Yes, that IS my subjective opinion, but that's 
exactly what you wanted me to give, right? Shut the fuck 
up and let me talk. 


Anyway, the guy's sitting in the food court eating a hot 
dog on a stick when shit starts to go down. Tsai saw it 
first: four guys coming in through the food court glass 
doors: could be four friends on a shopping trip, but they 
weren't looking at each other or talking, or even looking 
at the stores. They were looking at the people. Tsai and 
Ming decide to fall back to across the bridge to get a 
better view, and Carter and Wyatt move up to 
rendezvous with them. It's about when all four of them 
finally meet up that one of the four motherfuckers in the 
foodcourt pulls his .45 and starts shooting. 


Shit starts to happen real fast after that. Our guys grab 
some cover behind some planters. The skip rabbits and 
starts running for it: so does everyone else, but our guys 
are pinned down by enemy fire and can't get out. They 
start returning fire, and Tsai manages to down one of 
them, which | guess pisses one of them off, because he 
pulls a motherfucking M203 from his backpack and 
blows the team to shit. Four flatlines: they're all dead. 


And that's when | told the kid to get us the fuck out of 
there, because the op was blown. Ever fled the scene of 
a crime at 35 mph? Fucking nerve wracking. We got out 
of the parking lot about two minutes before the cops 
locked the place down. The rest you know. 


What do | think happened? Ain't it fucking obvious? We 
were set up. You've seen the tapes: those guys were 


packing heavy heat and wearing heavy armor. Sounds 
like a gock strike team to me. Is it any coincidence that 
they found the skip dead of a broken neck shortly after? 
This was a message: stop fucking around in their 
territory, or face the consequences. Fucking gock 
assholes. 


What? Fine, I'll answer one last fucking question, just for 
you. PDW? No, it was all pistols up until that M203 came 
out. What? Of course I'm sure. None of us had any, and 
the gocks were all using .45s. That GOC Personal 
Defense Weapon fires .223, which sounds completely 
different. 


.. well, | don't know what to tell you, then. Like you said, 
this was my subjective point of view. All | know is what | 
saw. | can't tell you exactly how everything worked out. 


+ From the Other Side 


Transcript of Communications sus GOC 
Strike Team 'Marduk,’ - -_ , 2 


Marduk Six (Team Leader and Overwatch): 
Comms check. Six here. 


Marduk One (Point Man): One. 
Marduk Two (Lead Marksman): Two, ready. 


Marduk Three (Support Marksman): Three 
here. I'm good. 


Six: Four, please respond. 
(pause) 


Marduk Four (Heavy Support): Sorry about 
that, had a problem with my headset. Four 
here. 


Six: Copy that. Eyes and Ears check... . 
confirm camera and mics operational. 
Equipment check. 


One: One okay. 

Two: Two okay. 
Three: Three okay. 
Four: Four good to go. 


Six: Confirmed. Mission Control, this is 
Marduk Six. Team is go. 


Control: Marduk Six, this is Control. You are 
cleared to proceed. 


Six: Confirmed. Five minutes to start time. 
Remember, guys, this is Response Level One. 
Do not open fire unless attacked first. Just get 
eyes on the target and wait for further 
instructions. 


One: Confirmed. Five minutes. 
(pause) 


One: Arrived. Exiting vehicle. 

(pause) 

One: We're inside. | have eyes on the target. 
He's in the food court, eating a corn dog and 


some fries. 


Six: Confirmed. Why don't you guys grab a 
bite to eat? Looks like we'll be here for a bit. 


One: Sounds good to me. Hey, guys, let's go 
grab some Sbarro's... HOLY SHIT! 


Six: What was that? 


One: SHOTS FIRED, SHOTS FIRED! WE 
ARE WEAPONS HOT! 


Six: One, say again? I'm seeing no hostiles 
present! 


One: Marduk Six, this is Marduk One, team is 
under fire from hostile forces, we require 
immediate extraction! 


(shots fired) 


Six: MARDUK TEAM, CEASE FIRE 
IMMEDIATELY! ABORT, ABORT! 


Two: HOSTILES SIGHTED! BEHIND THE 
PLANTERS AT TWO O'CLOCK! 


One: TEAM! WE ARE LEAVING! CENTER 
PEEL, FALL BACK TO THE COUNTERS, ON 
MY MARK, PEEL ONE, GO! 


Two: MOVING! 
Three: I'M HIT! I'M HiI— 
(Marduk Three's lifesigns terminated) 


Six: MARDUK TEAM, ABORT ABORT 
ABORT! 


One: MAN DOWN, MAN DOWN! MULTIPLE 
HOSTILES INBOUND! 


Four: FRAG OUT! 
Six: NO! 
(explosion) 


Six: Mission Control, this is Marduk Six, I'm 
going in. 


Control: Six, this is Control. Do not enter the 
mission zone. | say again, do not enter the 
mission zone. 


(Marduk Six exits the vehicle and enters the 
mission zone.) 


Control: Crap. 
One: Holy fuck! They're behind us! 
Two: Fuck! 


(shots fired. Marduk Two's lifesigns 
fluctuating.) 


Two: I'm hit! I'm hi— 


(shots fired. Marduk Two's lifesigns 
terminated.) 


Four: Tango down, tango down! One, let's 
GO! 


Six: MARDUK TEAM, STAND DOWN! 
One: HOSTILE SPOTTED! SMG! 


(shots fired. Marduk One's lifesigns 
terminated.) 


Four: BASTARD! 
Six: DON'T DO IT! 


(shots fired. Marduk Four's lifesigns 
terminated.) 


Six: Command, this is Marduk Six, team is 
compromised, | say again, team is 
compromised, | am exiting the mission... 


Unknown: GET ON THE GROUND, 


MOTHERFUCKER! 
Six: Wait! Don't shoo— 
(shots fired. Marduk Six's lifesigns terminated.) 


Control: Marduk? Marduk? Team Marduk, 
please respond. 


(no answer.) 


Control: Marduk? 


+ The End 


The End 


He was running out of the shopping mall, away from the 
madmen with guns, when he felt a sudden blow to the 
back of his head. It carried him over the railing and down 
the stairwell, three stories straight down, to land on 
unyielding concrete with a bone-shattering thud. 


The last thing he saw, as he fell, was a young Asian 
woman with long black hair standing at the top of the 
stairs, watching him fall to his death with cold, 
dispassionate interest in her yellow eyes. 


+ The Truth 


The Truth 


That worked out better than expected, in the end, She 
thought. One troublesome GOC strike force destroyed. 
Four meddling Foundation agents dead. Tensions 
between the two groups heightened. And all for the cost 
of one young man's life. 


Not bad for one day's work. 


Point In Line 


“Boom chicka boom, don't you just love it...” 


The fat man hummed and sang tunelessly, walking around the 
brightly lit work area. Everywhere else was deeply dark, the humps 
and points of old factory equipment looming in the old auto plant. 
Several large machines had been cleared away, and heavy, steel 
tables set up, along with huge shelves, all of it covered with junk. At 
least, it looked like junk to the untrained eye. A bomb technician 
would have taken one look at that tangle, and run screaming for the 
hills. 


“Chicka boom chicka boom, don't you just love it...” 


Boomer always worked with his shirt off. He'd been teased 
mercilessly for the huge sweat stains he'd always made on his shirts 
in grade school, and the pain had stayed with him his entire life, 
making partial, hideous nudity preferable to a damp shirt. (Never 
mind that he'd beaten the child who had started the teasing to death 
in the woods years and years ago. Some things just stuck.) 


“Boom chicka boom, don't you just love it...” 


He was just starting to fit a shock plate to the main detonation 
assembly when a chiming started. He grunted, freezing and trying to 
isolate the sound with no small amount of concern, before finally 
slumping and fishing his phone from his greasy pants pocket. 


“Hi, Mom. No, I'm fine, Mom, | was just working.” 
“... No, Mom, | like talking to you. It's fine, really...” 


“... Yes, I'm taking them, Mom... | just don't like how they make me 
feel, Mom, it's not...” 


“No, Mom, I'm not dis-” 


SCP-857-1f 


SCP-857-1g 


SCP-857-1h 


bone growths. SCP-857-1e 
specimens are predators, and 
have been observed hunting and 
consuming specimens of 
SCP-85/7-Ta. 

Each specimen of SCP-857-1f is 
composed from a human heart. 
SCP-857-1f is immobile. 
SCP-857-1f is parasitic and has 
been observed to latch onto 
specimens of SCP-857-1c, 
sucking their blood in the manner 
of a leech.