“That's great, Emmy,” Eddy said, although | don't think 
Emmy picked up the sarcasm, “and I'm happy for ya, but 
could ya ask it to hold still, dammit so | can save it's life?” 


Emmy said something that | think's in Russian, and the 
kid stopped moving, so | guess he understood. The girl's 
a freaking savant, | swear. Can speak a bazillion 
languages, but can't read a situation worth beans, and 
she was still talking. | think she was asking questions, 
but the kid wasn't answering. 


The flight back started out pretty boring. At least, for 
everyone that wasn't Emmy. She'd passing notes back 
and forth with the kid, or something, which I'm sure 
breaks all sorts of protocols, but from the look that was 
on her face, it looked like she was getting a pretty good 
idea of what the hell happened, so maybe she wouldn't 
get reprimanded too bad. | hope she didn't. She's a 
sweet girl. Kinda cute. | know | shouldn't be thinking 
those kinds of things about my co-workers, but she is. 


| think everyone was surprised when Emmy suddenly 
announced that we all had to break out the earplugs, and 
now. We obeyed, of course. The kid looked like he was 
about to start crying again at the gesture; | think we hurt 
his feelings. Now, I'm no scientist or anything, but by this 
point | was starting to figure that the kid was refusing to 
talk for a damn good reason. However it happened, it 
was probably his voice that killed the villagers, and it 
could probably kill us, too. No-one else seemed inclined 
to ask Emmy why, so they were probably thinking the 
same thing. 


We handed the kid over to the researchers at Site- , and 
Emmy merrily started rattling off to them what she's 
learned. | was kinda shocked she could be so chipper 
talking about it, though. What | overheard sounded pretty 
grim. The villagers had mistaken the kid for a demon 
when he'd wandered into town looking for food, and were 
probably trying to exorcise him. When his fear for his 
own life outweighed his fear of speaking, and he said two 
words (or, at least, something that translated to two 
words in English) that, combined with a defensive swing 
of his arm in what had happened to be in the general 
direction of the cliff, ultimately led to an entire village of 
people calmly walking off the ledge to their deaths: 


"Go away." 


| didn't see the kid again until some years later. I'd had 
an accident that screwed up my leg too bad for me to go 
back to field work, and got reassigned to paper-pushing 
at Site-17. He still had some scars from what he'd done 
to his neck, but there was also a bigger, cleaner one that 
looked like it had come from a surgery. Given the fact 
that he was at Site-17 now, | guessed that they'd 
probably taken out his vocal cords or something. He 
smiled and waved at me when he saw me. | waved back. 


... My supervisor saw, and | got reassigned before | even 
had a chance to get my things into my new old desk. 


Unpalatable 


"So what are you doing up here in Saskatchewan?" 
asked the truck driver. His beard was rather scruffy and 
he didn't seem too bright, but he was inviting enough, 
and friendly. He was nice enough to pick up a hitch hiker, 
at least. 


"I'm an investor. I'm heading up north to check out the 
uranium mines they have going here," | replied, watching 
the hula girl shake on the driver's dashboard. 


"Why didn'tcha take a plane up?" the driver asked. 


"Well | was going to but then that hail storm passed over 
the city and they said no flights would be leaving in 24 
hours. | got a meeting up there in..." | checked my 
watch. "16 hours." 


"Well it is nice to see the countryside, eh?" The man's 
gaze shifted to the sky momentarily. 


"Oh yes, it is very nice." | looked up to, only to notice two 
spinning lights overhead. 


"Now what wouldja say that is?" The truck driver could 
see them too. 


"| dunno, maybe a chopper or something?" | gazed at the 
lights. Odd how they swirled like that. They seemed to 
get bigger as well. 


"Nah, if it were a chopper it'd be making noise." The 
truck driver frowned. | looked back at the road to see if 
there were any other vehicles about. No one else on the 
lone, flat highway. 


"Maybe i- Woah shit!" | was interrupted as the truck 
driver shifted the wheel sideways. | saw a flash of lights. 
Two lights, spinning | thought. And then the truck 
careened off the highway and flipped onto its side, 
leaving myself and the driver suspended sideways as 
our seat belts held us tight. | looked down to see a 
smashed hula girl. 


"I- augh - | think | broke my arm," the truck driver said. 
"Why the fuck did you do that?!" My head hurt. 


"The lights came really close and we were about to 
smash them." The truck driver replied. 


"Smash lights?" | asked, but before | could hear an 
answer | instead heard the sound of smashing glass and 


a quick ripping noise. | looked up to see the driver gone 
from his seat and the windshield broken. 


| focused through the windshield to see a blob. It was 
large, red, and for all intents and purposes could only be 
described as a blob. It had several tendrils extending 
from its body, one of which was holding onto the driver. 
And then | heard the sound of smashing glass and | too 
was suspended in the air by a slimy, red tenadril. 


"Greetings Earth men!" said the blob, "| am 
Snozerghaslel, food critic of Snasser. My apologies for 
crashing your vehicle, but i thought that the best way to 
incapacitate you!" 


| was too shocked to respond. | looked over at the driver 
to see him similarly surprised. | looked back at the blob. 


"Can you hear me? Is my telepathy coming through 
alright? Hello?" the blob seemed to jiggle a little. For 
some unknown reason | decided to nod to communicate 
that its telepathy was, in fact, coming through. 


"Ah, good. | thought | should congratulate you, for being 
the first specimens of a new food craze!" The blob jiggled 
some more. "I've eaten a few Garfhufians in my lifetime, 
and even a Cragelisalilian, but | have never eaten an 
Earthling before." 


Sudden fear came over me as | realized what it meant. | 
squirmed a bit, but to no avail. 


"Squirming just serves to wet my appetite, as you will 
soon learn. Anyways, let's get to it." | watched in terror 
as the blob opened up a hole in itself that soon filled with 
what | could only presume to be teeth. He picked up the 
driver and dropped him in. The driver screamed on the 
way down then was silenced as the hole closed. | barfed. 


"Oooh, hmmm, good texture. Oooh, crunchy center." | 
could hear a grinding noise and retched again. "Ah, | 


Camera focus turns to the moving mass of flesh ahead 
at ~3m. After focus clears the movement appears to be 
coming from what appears to be a deer, uninfected, 
wriggling in the grips of tendrils composed of SCP-610 
material. The deer is being suspended above the ground 
with unclear intent. The drone is moved past the trapped 
deer while holding it in view of the camera until safely 
away. Nothing occurs with the deer and the drone 
proceeds past undisturbed. 


The previously fairly level ground of the tunnel displays 
large humps in apparently random placement ~5m 
ahead of the drone, ~30m past the encountered deer. 
Upon approach these lumps turn out to be similar to the 
infected villagers who escaped from Site A into the 
sinkhole after the destruction of Site C. The sound of 
rushing water is now detected and the drone is pushed 
forward. 


~100m further into the tunnel the sound of running water 
is now deafening. Drone lights reveal a running stream of 
water potentially from one of the adjacent rivers in the 
area. A sample vial is placed in the water, allowed to 
collect, and then released with an active tracking 

beacon. 


Later recovery of this sample indicates no SCP-610 contamination 
of ground water. 


The tunnel splits in two at this point. One tunnel leads 
around the river and then seems to slope downward, 
while the other is directly above a light source in the 
ceiling. This second one is selected to facilitate recovery 
of the drone. During adjustment of the drone's flight path, 
it comes in contact with a portion of the tunnel wall 
coated in SCP-610, causing a deep gash from the 
propeller of the drone which is already healing over when 
the camera focuses on the impact point. The drone 
proceeds upwards. 


~300m of upwards travel, taking approximately 45 


really enjoy that liquid around the crunchy area. Adds a 
deep contrast that really keeps the taste-arms waving." 


| heard a gulping noise and turned green. Then white as 
| realized | was up next for taste-testing. "| suppose 
you're up next, mister squirmy." 


The tentacle began to rise up over the mouth-hole, which 
was once again beginning to open. | screamed. Quite 
loudly. So loudly the blob had to shake me and tell me to 
quiet down. | didn't. | had never been as terrified as | was 
right at that moment. 


Then, just as it began to lower me into the mouth-hole, it 
stopped. 


"Oh, wait, what is that after-taste?" The blob paused and 
smacked its mouth-hole. "Oh, that is wretched. That is 
absolutely vile. It's like, you know, it's like..." The blob 
snapped a tendril. "It's like when you get a really, slimy 
old sucker stuck in your tongue-ball. That is nauseating. 
Ugh" 


The blob then threw me to the ground, slithered to its 
ship and took off. That night at the uranium site | got the 
vegetarian burger. 


Coffee Shops 


On the corner of Westpoint and Main, there’s a big 
concrete building painted all sorts of vibrant colours. 
Across the sides, in big red block letters, are the words 
“GETOUT”. An unusual sight, set against the offices and 
banks downtown. 


Outside, it looks like some obsessive-compulsive youths 
took their spray cans in clean strokes to some poor 
landlord’s warehouse. Inside, the best café in the city. 
The Get Out, see? Get Out of your house, go see some 
friends. All kinds of people come around, from 


businessmen to students. Excellent reviews, wonderful 
clientele, and the tastiest damn espresso in the area. 
The owner makes sure of it. 


Course, it only really took off a couple years ago. See, 
the owner, Boakes, he was in competition with his older 
brother for a while. The Elder Boakes had a fabulous 
little nook over on Sixth, just called Old Café, a couple 
streets over. Elder was content with his little coffee shop, 
over near the apartments. | used to come down every 
day for a tea. Wonderful atmosphere, not too much 
different from the Get Out. Bit more cozy, a bit warmer. 
But | digress. Basically, the Elder Boakes got the talent, 
where the Younger Boakes got the aspirations. 


Anyway, the two of them had a falling out. Shouting 
matches once a week for months up and down the 
street. Everyone knew about it. Course, everyone 
seemed to be on the Elder Boakes’s side. His brother 
was a bit of a weirdo back then, always angry, you know 
the type. Rumours said he was some sort of cultist. He 
doesn't seem like it any more. He changed a lot. 


One day, the Younger Boakes just packed up and left 
the city. Nobody really missed him, except his brother. 
He lived above the café; at night, if you passed by right 
after closing, you might hear him crying upstairs. 


A few months after his brother left, the Elder Boakes’s 
café burned. He was caught inside, the firefighters found 
his body under some timber. | was actually one of the 
guys who went in to look for him. | was there, that night 
that the Old Café went up in smoke. 


The next day the Younger Boakes appeared downtown, 
bought a warehouse, and began work on the Get Out. 
Completely turned around. His hair cut, he was dressed 
well, a lot of energy and charisma. Never would have 
guessed that he was that freak from before. Had a new 
business partner too, some youngish looking fellow. 
Never got his name. Long hair, pulled back into a 


ponytail. Always wore a hat. 
... Can | tell you something? 


The Elder Boakes... His hands and feet were screwed to 
a wooden frame. It must have snapped in the heat, the 
body was folded up like a sandwich. It was horrific. We 
never let that out, would cause a panic. Nothing like that 
ever happened before. 


I’ve passed by the ruins a few times since, usually 
walking home from work. One night | turned the corner 
and | swear, for just a second, | saw that odd guy with 
the ponytail, under the streetlight, looking at the ruins. | 
just turned around, went the long way home. 


Maybe the name of the Younger Boakes's café is not just 
some modern marketing gimmick. Maybe it's a warning. 


The man had horns. 


Dr. Toxic and Lady Catfish 


Super Marvolo struggles, alone, on the floor of the 
supervillian's underground laboratory dungeon lair. 
Bound, trapped, his cape flopping useless on the ground. 
The chains that bind him are of a dexanite-troinian alloy. 
The dexanite is one of only three elements in the known 
universe that he cannot break, and the troinian is slowly 
sapping his powers and poisoning his blood. He is 
trapped, with no hope of rescue, unless Marvolo Boy, the 
Teen Wonder, can escape the deadly electric bear- 
sharks of Greater Camptos. 


But it is not his own life he is truly worried about. Super 
Marvolo is as selfless as any hero, and the threat to his 
own life could not possibly motivate him to struggle as 
hard as he now does against the dexanite-tronian 
chains. No, this mysterious, unnamed supervillain has 
kidnapped the unrequited love of his life, Lady Catfish. 


Even now, this unnamed supervillain could be doing all 
manner of cruel, unthinkable things to his dear Lady. 
Super Marvolo could never forgive himself if... if... 


Super Marvolo turns all his efforts to breaking his chains. 
He cannot break them, and yet - he must! 


"Super Marvolo!" a hooded figure cackles from the 
darkness in the shadowy corners of the laboratory 
dungeon. "We meet again. For the /ast time." 


The hooded man steps slowly from the shadows. The 
lights illuminate first his mad, toothy grin, then the 
contours of his face, then his mad, staring eyes. Super 
Marvolo gasps in astonishment. 


"It's ... you!" Super Marvolo exclaims. "Dr. Toxic! But 
you... you were dead! You were shot between the eyes 
in the Special Crisis of Heroes!" 


Dr. Toxic throws back his head and laughs. "So naive, 
Super Marvolo! Then again, you always were more 
brawn than brains." Dr. Toxic circles Super Marvolo with 
menace in his mad eyes. "Did it never occur to you that 
during the Special Crisis of Heroes, | was teemed up 
with Snake Goblin, Master of Illiusions? You only saw... 
what | wanted you to see!" 


"So you've been behind this all along!" Super Marvolo 
stares down Dr. Toxic with his piercing diamond eyes. 
"What have you done with Lady Catfish!" 


Dr. Toxic throws back his head once more, his laughter 
echoing from the laboratory dungeon rafters. "You 
cannot even begin to imagine what—-" 


The world tilts. 


Super Marvolo collapses on the metallic floor, limp, eyes 
open, staring at nothing, not even breathing. The rats 
and spiders and moths in the cages that line Dr. Toxic's 


laboratory freeze and slump over. 
The world stops. 


Only Dr. Toxic is left moving. The look of mad glee falls 
from his face and the maniacal smile vanishes. 


"Please," Dr. Toxic says. "Please. You don't - you don't 
know what this is. Please, this won't last long. I've been 
trapped here for ... oh god, | don't know how long 
anymore." 


He glances around, looking for an audience that he 
cannot see.