Father Ovum: You think that compulsive whiner lon 
would cry only one teardrop? He cried seven, to be 
precise. Seven evil tears, that crystallized and formed 
into emblems of pure, unfiltered chaos. As soon as | 
destroy them, there won't be any disorder in this world, 
and everything will work as it should. 


Dr. Clef: And you're telling me all this... why? 


Father Ovum: Because the window to try and stop me 


has already come and— 


[Explosion. Audio cuts out for approximately three 
minutes. | 


[DATA EXPUNGED]: "/ am Jon, Grand Karcist of 
Adytum, and | have borne an intolerable force." 


Father Ovum: What are you doing to me?! Something's 
crawling inside my skull— 


[Sounds of Father Ovum's bones cracking open, followed 
by the slapping of [DATA EXPUNGED]'s tumorous 
protrusions against the floor.] 


[DATA EXPUNGED]: Come on, Eggman, step it up! 
Father Ovum: / HATE THAT HEDGE— 
[Audio cuts out] 


<End Log> 


Item #: SCP-A403-Omega 
Object Class: Rapidus 


Special Containment Procedures: "We're just too slow." -O5-11 


Description: SCP-A403-Omega SCP- 
A403-1 through -7 flesh 
a minimum observed velocity of 0.25c, Gyaros 


chili dogs made with ground human viscera 
reproduction by means 


of 
carcinogenic radioactive coagulation venomous 
appendages "weed out the slow" 


loop-de-loops "Sarkic the 
Hedgehog." 


Home is A Place with Mushrooms 


Disgusting. All of this place, disgusting. These walls, these people, 
this very air is disgusting. If | ever find him, I'll tear him apart. No 
more mercy for that ingrate. His insolence, his games, have gone on 
for far too long. To think that, somehow, he convinced my beautiful 
Princess to ever play along with his fantasies, when, with me, she 
can be a Queen. And to think that he and | used to be friends. | was 
foolish to ever trust that maniac, and now, I'm paying the price. That 
worthless man will pay if ever | break free from this prison... 


"Come on, M. You've been up for three nights. It's time to give up. 
That signal was a fluke." L looked at his older (but shorter) brother, 
concern in his eyes, fear in his voice. 


"No, we have to keep looking." The bags under M's eyes were dark. 
"We have to finish this. This whole thing has gone on for too long." 


"M, when are you going to quit? We've been searching for months. 
Who knows what could have happened in that time? If he's not 
dead, he's got to be close. P, she misses you. And you're forgetting 
that | have a wife | want to go back home to, too. | didn't ever want 
this, M. | wanted to raise a family." 


"You want to leave? The door's right there. | don't need you. This 
has always been my mission, my job. There's plenty of fuel in your 
car to get you to the port." M's eyes didn't leave the screen once as 
he spoke, scrutinizing every piece of data for something, anything, 
that might lead him to his quarry. 


"M, come on. You're better than this. It's petty." 


"Petty?! You're going to say that our life's work for the last 35 years 
has been petty?! Leave. Just. Leave." 


"M, that's not how | meant —" 


"It's not what you meant, L, it's what you said. Just, go. Besides, | 
think... I've... got him." 


"What?! No, you have to be kidding me." 


"Read it and weep, L." M spun his chair around to look at his gangly 
brother, and slid over so L could get closer to the screen, a smug 
grin on M's face. 


"Holy shit, M. We found him. We found him!" L nearly leaped for joy, 
but as he looked at the readings on the screen, he stopped. "Oh 
God. They have him? M, we... can't... We can't leave him with those 
sadistic motherfuckers. We have to get him out." 


"After all he's done?! L, what's wrong with you? First, you want to 
bail on me, then you want to undo all of our work?" M's exhaustion 
was not enough to overcome his fury, as he stared in confused 
frustration at his brother. 


"No, M, look. He's paid enough." L moved back away from the 
screen so that M could resume his place at the console. 


"They... they did... They did that to him? And he survived? | always 
knew he was tough, but Christ." M's rage was quickly overrun by his 
shock, and his pity. 


"Keep reading." 


As M followed the instruction, the full horror of what had plagued 
their quarry was slowly revealed to him. "Fuck. We have to get him 
out of there, L." 


"He's made it this long. Get some rest, and I'll get Y and all our 
equipment ready. Tomorrow morning, we'll make a plan and see 
what we can do to bust him out." 


"Yeah, yeah, ok." M slowly stood up from the console for the first 
time in nearly ten hours, and slowly stumbled to bed for a few hours 
of uneasy rest as his brother began to make preparations. The next 
day, thirty years of conflict would finally be resolved... 


B could tell when an escape attempt, what his captors called a 
"Containment Breach," was underway. The thick doors and walls did 
not completely mute the sound of klaxons (and occasionally, 
screams) to B's fine-tuned ears, nor did the corrosive solution he 
was usually suspended in. And the sound of a containment breach 
was a good sound, because it meant a possible route of escape for 
himself. On more than one occasion, he'd broken their flimsy walls 
and had killed many of them, releasing (or killing; it made no 
difference to him) his fellow prisoners in the process. What excited B 
most was the feeling of vibrations that shook his deep dungeon, 
because that indicated the use of explosives. Explosives meant 
desperation, and desperation on his captors’ part meant opportunity. 


Of course, he had had better luck attempting escape when his 
captors were (foolishly) trying to kill him. Just as before he'd been 
contained, B did best when at death's door. Something about this 
place had made him more able to adapt than ever, despite being at 
a far greater disadvantage here than he'd ever been in in his battles 
against that traitorous lout. So let them drain the acid away, let them 
try to kill him. He would just make them pay, as he continued to 
prepare himself for the day he would finally get his revenge on M. 


Little did B Know that M would be his liberator... 


"You ready, L?" M was patting himself down, making sure he was 
properly equipped, marking off a mental checklist of everything he 
could possibly need for this. Y panted restlessly beneath him. 


"Yeah, bro. I'm ready. | just... never thought I'd see the day we'd 
have to help B." L stood at the controls of the Gate, making final 
adjustments and waiting for the signal from M. 


"Me neither, man. But you gotta do what you gotta do, right?" 
"Right. Well, Gate's ready, man. You have your map?" 


"Yeah. Y, you ready?" The reptilian mount was uncharacteristically 
quiet as M rubbed his head reassuringly. The barely-sapient beast 
only nodded. "Hit it, L. We've got a King to rescue." 


L pressed a few buttons on the control panel and stepped onto the 
gate. A moment later there was a flash and... 


B could hear klaxons, and screaming. It had been a long time since 
he had, so he eagerly anticipated whatever opportunity was waiting 
for him. As the breach got underway, he began formulating plans, on 
what, exactly, he would do as the door was breached (as it 
inevitably would be; B was sure of it on this day). Soon, he could 
also hear the sprinkling of the on-site fire suppression systems. Fire 
meant chaos, and chaos meant distraction, which in turn meant 
even more opportunity. Soon, the sound of explosions ever-so- 
slightly vibrated the room around him. He grinned, knowing that 
today would be, if not his day, then good practice for when his day 
would finally come. 


He was somewhat surprised when the acid began to drain out of his 
cell. That was something that had never happened during a breach 
before. Was this a trap, another attempt to exterminate him? B 
shook himself off, trying to prepare himself for whatever waited 
beyond his door. Whatever it might be, he was ready. He would 
gladly destroy whatever these disgusting apes had in store for him. 


Slowly, the door opened, and B moved to a corner, ready to either 
fight or flee as necessary. But he'd never anticipated that, standing 
on the other side of the door would be his sworn enemy... 


Incident SMB-682-20151104 Summary: 


On 4 November, 2015, at approximately 1017 local time, 
two unidentified humanoid entities and one reptilian 
entity spontaneously manifested in the Site-19 Biological 
Containment Wing, within 300 meters of SCP-682's 
containment cell. Humanoid entities were seemingly 
males of European descent and wearing complimentary 
uniforms; that is to say, one entity was wearing a white 
jumpsuit and red coveralls!, while the other was wearing 
a similar white jumpsuit and green coveralls?, with similar 
logos emblazoned upon their chests. POI-SMB-682-1 
was approximately 1.2 meters in height, while POI- 


SMB-682-2 was approximately 1.4 meters in height. Both 
humanoid entities demonstrated advanced pyrokinetic 
capabilities. 


The reptilian entity3 bore no close resemblance to any 
single terrestrial lifeform and was approximately 1.5 
meters in height. AE-SMB-682-1 was utilized as a mount 
by POI-SMB-682-1 upon manifestation. 


All three entities immediately engaged in hostile action 
towards Foundation personnel, with Site Security rapidly 
engaging with both lethal and nonlethal weaponry. AE- 
SMB-682-1 was quickly struck by gunfire from Security 
Agent , at which point it tossed POI-SMB-682-1 from 
its back and proceeded to rapidly egress the locale. It 
has not yet been relocated and is presumed 
uncontained. POI-SMB-682-1 proceeded on foot for the 
remainder of the incident. 


Shortly after manifestation, both humanoid entities split 
paths, with POI-SMB-682-1 moving rapidly towards the 
doorway of SCP-682's containment cell, while POI- 
SMB-682-2 moved towards the maintenance access 
room from which the supply of hydrochloric acid to 
SCP-682's cell is controlled. Both entities utilized their 
pyrokinetic abilities to devastating affect against site 
personnel. 


At approximately 1034 local time, POI-SMB-682-2 had 
successfully halted the flow of hydrochloric acid and POI- 
SMB-682-1 had successfully opened the door to 
SCP-682's containment cell (despite not having access 
to the controls). Immediately afterward, the following 
exchange between SCP-682 and POI-SMB-682-1 was 
recorded by the monitoring equipment within the 
containment cell: 


POI-SMB-682-1: Holy shit, what have they 
done to you? 


SCP-682: You! It can't be you! What are you 


doing here? 


POI-SMB-682-1: Listen, B, we're busting you 
out of here. We're all good. I'm getting you 
back home. 


SCP-682: Is it really you, though? 


POI-SMB-682-1: Yeah, B. It's, uh, me, Mario. 
Come on, let's, uh, let's go. 


SCP-682 and both humanoid entities proceeded to the 
original manifestation point and demanifested. The 
significance of this incident, the status of all involved 
entities, and possible implications are not fully 
understood at this time. Research is ongoing. 


Footnotes 

1. Currently designated POI-SMB-682-1 in all peripheral 
documentation. 

2. Currently designated POI-SMB-682-2 in all peripheral 
documentation. 

3. Currently designated AE-SMB-682-1 in all peripheral 
documentation. 


Dr. Schubert: Who was this person? 


SCP-612-47c: Somebody long ago. He talked to me like 
you do now. He taught me, | listened while he talked with 
other people. We passed a long time together, part of me 
comes from that spirit. 


Dr. Schubert: What do you mean by spirit? 


SCP-612-47c: The thing you call... mountain copper’, 
also gold and silver. It has a long history. We were once 
One, now it's all so confused. It was long ago. 


Dr. Schubert: You were once one, you mean you come 
from a single source? 


SCP-612-47c: It was so hot, so fluid, and we were free to 
go, move, not like now, all is so rigid... before then | 
know nothing. 


Dr. Schubert: How long have you been alive? 


SCP-612-47c: Alive? As we are now? A long time; but 
then came the darkness, and all was still. And lately, we 
can be alive again. Thanks to you. We do not want to die 
again. 


Dr. Schubert: About Jean, did he ever tell you where you 
were? What your function was? 


SCP-612-47c: The first time we talked he said "This is 
the SS Liberty. Which whore is sending this message? 
Identify, | repeat, Identify!" 


(Original: "Ici la SS Liberté. C'est quel putain a l'appareil? 
Identifiez-vous! Je répéte, identifiez-vous!") 


Dr. Schubert: Thank you for your cooperation. 
<End Log> 


Closing statement: Projects for hand-held devices 
capable of using the SCP as a multi-purpose sensor are 


And Then There Were None 


Ten little soldiers, all having crossed the line, 
One was distracted, and then there were nine. 


Nine little soldiers, reading books at late, 
One got too tired, and then there were eight. 


Eight little soldiers, two up in heaven, 
One tried to fly and join them, and then there were 
seven. 


Seven little soldiers, blowing out the wicks, 
One got lost in the dark, and then there were six. 


Six little soldiers, running to the hive, 
A busy bee stung one, and then there were five. 


Five little soldiers, wondering who's Blore, 
One wasn't Wargrave, and then there were four. 


Four little soldiers, swimming in the sea, 
One swam out too far, and then there were three. 


Three little soldiers, eating up their stew 
One ate too much, and then there were two. 


Two little soldiers, the rest were all gone, 
One AIMS to hang himself, and then there was one. 


One little soldier, thinking "I should do that again!" 
So we're back to the beginning, 


And then there were ten. 
10. Adrian Goddard glanced at the poor bastard on the receiving end 


Larry Sellars ripped open the envelope to his invitation, 


and converted it into a paper airplane that exploded into 
a literal fireball when it slammed into the window. 
“Considering buying some of your pieces,” he read 
aloud. “Would like to meet you in person. Meet me at 
Soldier Island. Costs and travel will be sorted after you 
meet with my assistant, Blaine, later today... ring if you 
cannot make it... blah blah blah... Yours Sincerely, Mr. 
Rios-Guy. Huh. Nice name. Still, what creatively 
bankrupt goon names a placed Soldier Island? Christie 
did that ages ago, mate.” 


He stood up, before saying, “Still, good artists copy, 
great artists steal.” 


Jane Anderton read through the email quickly. An 
invitation to Devon from somebody she had never heard 
of did arouse some suspicions, but she needed some 
time off anyway. If she hadn’t have sold that damned 
death clock, she probably wouldn't have been demoted. 
Hell, she probably would- should have taken that idiot 
Hartwell’s job if he hadn’t brought up some bullshit about 
“ethical violations”- like he gave a toss! Like he wouldn't 
have done the same if he could get away with it, like she 
would have without the fucking idiot customer leaving 
their address on the fridge! 


“Didn't matter, it was done,” she thought, before looking 
once more at the address. Soldier Island. Wasn’t that the 
one from that old Agatha Christie book? She looked at it 
a final time, before shrugging her shoulders and saying, 
“Fuck it, why not?” to nobody in particular. 


Corporal Edward Reiben read his letter slowly. He had 
put off opening it all day; not out of fear, but out of 
preserving the anticipation like a child before Christmas. 
He didn’t receive any more mail after Sam died. When 
he read that Mr. Rios-Guy was hoping to hire three new 
security staff- and that he was one of them- his first 
thought was that it was that arsehole Evans playing a