Lindow: Understandable. Shapey probably didn’t want 
anything getting at him. 


Wagner: It’s been damaged from this side. Jarvis, can 
you open this door? 


Jarvis: Yes. 


Jarvis forces the bulkhead to SCP-1831's containment 
chamber to open. A dismembered D-class is scattered 
across the room; it is otherwise empty. 


Byock: Guess Shapey decided to bolt instead. 


Lindow: D-class is, uh... number six-eight-four-three- 
nine. 


Jarvis: SCP-1831 catalogued as uncontained. D-68439 
catalogued as deceased. 


Sturluson: Everyone knows what Shapey is, right? 


Wagner: Higher-dimensional construct, part of the Little 
Misters. 


Sturluson: Right, and everyone knew he could just 
leave any time he wanted, and there’d be nothing we 
could do to stop him. 


Lindow: That’s a good point. 
Jarvis: Query. What is the point? 


Sturluson: Why would you stop Shapey from using the 
door, if you know he can just go around it? 


Jarvis: ... 


Lindow: | think you broke him. 
Jarvis: Incorrect. | am fully functional. 
Byock: Sure you are. 


ATF 4 navigate to the item storage wing. All containment 
chambers encountered en route have been damaged to 
prevent them from opening; all anomalies are accounted 
for. 


Lindow: This must be the work of an — stand up would 
you. 


Byock: Sorry. Nerves. 


Sturluson: Its fine. This really should be a Hammer 
Down job. 


Wagner: Why aren't they here? 


Sturluson: Too understaffed, just like every other task 
force. Which ones are you four from? 


Lindow: Zeta Nine, Mole Rats. 

Wagner: Rho One, The Professors. 

Jarvis: Mobile Task Force Kappa-10 “Skynet.” 
Byock: ... Rho Nine, Technical Support. 

Lindow: I’m sorry, what? You’re from tech support? 
Sturluson: Lindow. 


Lindow: Why the hell is he here? Why — have you even 
been in the field before? 


Sturluson: Gamma five. 


Lindow: What? 


Sturluson: I’m from Gamma Five. Red Herrings. 


Lindow: Great. We’ve got a trained operative, a book 
head, a brick-headed robot, his pit crew, and we're being 
led by a liar. 


Sturluson: Watch it, Lindow. 


Lindow: No. Why the fuck are you in charge? I’m the 
one — 


Jarvis: Proximity alert! 


The door behind ATF 4 closes. An unseen force strikes it 
from the other side, indenting the door and preventing it 
from opening. ATF 4 run to the item storage wing, 
stopping upon arrival. 


Wagner: Jarvis, what was it? 

Jarvis: Unknown, mobile entity. 

Byock: Had it been following us this whole damn time? 
Jarvis: Unknown. 


Lindow: Sounded like a machine gun — five seventy- 
seven? 


Jarvis: Possible. Data insufficient for confirmation. 


Sturluson: It’s nasty and fast, that’s all we need to 
know. Nineteen has internal sensors all over the place, 
right? 


Wagner: Yes. 


Sturluson: Byock, will you be able to get into the sensor 
readings? 


Byock: Well, yeah. Just need a terminal. 


Sturluson: Right, and there should be one in the item 


containment wing. 


ATF 4 reach the item storage wing within three minutes. 
Four additional doors are closed and rendered 
inoperable during the time frame; the offending entity 
remains out of sight at all times. 


Lindow: For a catastrophic containment breach, it’s 
rather — oh boy. 


Sturluson: Sweet easter. How many of them are there? 
Jarvis: Thirty-five casualties catalogued. 
Byock: Fuck... 


Sturluson: Just find out if there’s anyone left. If there 
isn’t we'll just hit the nukes and bolt. Wagner, what are 
you doing? 


Wagner: Some of the skips stored here could be useful 
assets. I’m seeing what is supposed to be stored here. 


Lindow: Leave them alone. They’re in containment, and 
the place is getting nuked for a reason. Or did you forget 
the whole reason we’re here? 


Wagner: To destroy all of the dangerous skips, yes. But 
the ones here in storage are mundane, if not beneficial. 
Example, one-oh-nine; a bottle that provides and endless 
supply of beneficial... It’s gone. 


Jarvis: SCP-109 catalogued as uncontained. 


Sturluson: It might've been in testing when the breach 
happened. 


Wagner: A shame. It would have been useful. 
Byock: I’m in. 


Sturluson: Is there anyone else other than us? 


Byock: One. 
Lindow: Fuck. 
Sturluson: Just one? Are you sure? 


Byock: As sure as the system is; one human-shaped 
warmth spot that’s moving around. 


Wagner: Do you know who it is? 


Byock: No way of knowing. Could be a D-class, could 
be the site director — we have to check to find out. 


Lindow: Screw them. We set the nuke up, and we get 
the hell out of here. 


Byock: You're joking. 


Lindow: No I'm not, screen boy. We're only supposed to 
rescue if we're able. 


Wagner: There is no reason we cannot recover them. 
We are not constrained to any time limits, nor have we 
suffered any injuries. 


Sturluson: We get the survivor, then we rig the nuke. 


Lindow: And what if we don't make it to the nuke, hmm? 
Fat lot of good saving one shmuck will do us when stuff 
like ninety-five seventy-three is running around because 
nobody blew it up first. 


Jarvis: Agent Lindow is correct. Nuclear detonation is 
the primary objective of this mission, and must be 
ensured. 


Lindow: Thank you, Jarvis. 


Sturluson: Jarvis, do you know how to start the 
countdown? 


Jarvis: Correct. 


Sturluson: Fine then. You and Lindow can go set up the 
nuke — set it for an hour, then leave. Me, Byock and 
Wagner will go fetch the survivor. Use your radio if you 
need us. 


Lindow: Fine. 


Jarvis and Agent Lindow leave the remainder of the 
group. 


Byock: Isn't splitting up a bad idea? 


Sturluson: It lets us multitask, and they weren't going to 
come with us anyway. Where's the survivor? 


Byock: That's the odd part — they're inside a 
containment chamber. 


Wagner: That mustn't be a survivor. It's a skip. 


Byock: It's not. All the humanoid skips are accounted 
for; in their container, or dead. The containment chamber 
isn't registered for a humanoid either, so it's moved at 
minimum. 


Sturluson: Fine, lead the way. 


Several minutes elapse as Agents Sturluson, Byock and 
Wagner navigate to Site-19's Euclid containment wing. 


Lindow, Radio: Sturluson, we got a problem. 
Sturluson: What now. 


Lindow, Radio: The nukes are buggered. Controls are 
smashed beyond repair, manual override is wrecked. 
Looks like our friend came through and disarmed them. 


Sturluson: Fucking... is there anything Jarvis can do? 
Can he fix it? 


Agent Lindow does not respond. 
Sturluson: Lindow, can Jarvis fix it? 
Agent Lindow does not respond. 
Sturluson: Lindow, are you there? 


Byock: If the interfaces are screwed, there’s nothing we 
can do. We'll have to come back with a functional one. 


Sturluson: Lindow, respond! 

Wagner: She isn’t going to respond. 

Sturluson: And how would you know that? 

Wagner: Because Jarvis isn’t responding either. 

Byock: Look, we just... we just get the guy, get out of 
here, right? We, we tell the others that the consoles were 
destroyed, and they bring someone else in to clean up, 


right? 


Wagner: | don’t think we have any other choices, 
excluding abandoning the survivor. 


Sturluson: No. We said we were going to get them, and 
we're going to get them. 


Byock: Well we’d better bust a move before — fuck! 


SCP-173 appears in front of Agent Byock. Agents 
Sturluson and Wagner maintain eye contact with 
SCP-173 while Agent Byock recovers. 


Sturluson: Get up Byock, we need to move. 
Wagner: Blinking. 
Sturluson: Shut the door. 


Byock: Shut... yeah, shut the... 


Agent Byock closes a door, obstructing line-of-sight with 
SCP-173. The door is struck from the other side until a 
crack forms in the door. 


Wagner: It’s going to smash through. 


ATF 4 proceed to the Euclid containment wing at an 
accelerated pace. SCP-173 pursues the group, 
destroying obstructions while unobserved. On several 
occasions it utilises alternate routes in an attempt to 
outflank the group; the open doorways throughout the 
site enable it to traverse large distances unnoticed by the 
group. Agent Byock leads the group to the inhabited 
containment chamber. 


Byock: This... this is the one. 
Sturluson: You’re joking. 
Wagner: This is seventeen-three’s chamber. 


Byock: And it’s got the guy in it. It’s not my fault he 
picked this one. 


Sturluson: Fine just... just get the doors open. Wagner, 
watch that other door over there. 


Agent Byock opens the bulkhead doors; damage 
sustained prevents them from opening enough to allow 
access. 


Byock: It’s stuck! 
222: Have you started the countdown? 


Agents Sturluson and Wagner leave their positions, 
attempting to force the bulkhead doors open. 


Sturluson: No sir. The nukes have been destroyed. 


Wagner: It’s not moving. 


cases, the physical increase of size by the SCP-695, coupled with 
feeding, will cause the abdominal area to rupture. SCP-695 will 
leave via the vaginal, anal, and oral openings if rupture does not 
occur. Emerging SCP-695 will then feed on the female host for 
several hours, before propelling themselves on their hook fins to any 
nearby body of water. 


SCP-695 are extremely resilient in all life stages, and are capable of 
indefinite survival in any environment present in the human body. 
Direct fire application has shown significant success in sterilizing 
both hosts and SCP-695. 


Document XRO-od (05 Review) 


Due to several accidents involving SCP-695 escape and infestation, 
further research on their physiology was ordered. Specifically, 
research was done on both the chemicals created by SCP-695 and 
the nervous system of SCP-695 itself. 


It appears that, when in groups of 15 or more units, SCP-695 
experiences a marked increase in intelligence. SCP-695 has a very 
highly developed nervous system for a parasite, and it appears that, 
with the sufficient amount of individuals, a form of group intelligence 
is formed. All individuals will stay in very close proximity, most often 
balling into a single mass, with chemical relays taking place over the 
skin. 


This mass is capable of emitting chemical and electromagnetic 
impulses that can affect the human brain and nervous system. 
These effects can also run counter to the directed will of the subject. 
These impulses appear to most commonly manifest as a desire to 
handle SCP-695, enter and swim in the containment area, or ingest 
SCP-695. The obvious concerns about this activity have led to an 
alteration in SCP, and a change in research focus to the isolation 
and control of the chemical compounds involved. 


Communication tests have met with limited success. While a form of 
will or “ego” appears to manifest with increased numbers, the 
intelligence is difficult to interpret in human terms. It appears 
reproduction, feeding, and expansion are the primary concerns. 


Sturluson: Keep trying. Byock, get over here! 

222: No. You three, leave. The next group can fetch me. 
Sturluson: Sir, you know — 

The lights in the main room flicker. 

22: It doesn’t bother me. Just go, now. 


All lights in the main room turn off. The sound of a door 
being destroyed is heard, followed by three snaps in 
quick succession. SCP-173 appears at the gap in the 
bulkhead, illuminated by the containment chamber’s 
interior lighting and facing in. 


222: Fuck you. I'll get out eventually. 


SCP-173 disappears from view before the bulkhead 
doors are closed again. 


< END LOG > 


The Serpent Gambit 


December 21st, 2090 
Pyramid of the Feathered Serpent, Teotihuacan, Mexico 


The rats had long been multiplying, and Teotihuacan had become 
victim to the instability. 


We were all running, the meaty ground sputtering and bleeding 
beneath our feet. Our convoy had been overrun before we could 
make the turn into the temple compound, and the group had been 
on foot for six minutes. We ran against a current of red mist. 


The Temple of the Quetzalcoatl was a dull pink and purple bump in 
the distance, and the stars were blackened by the twisting streams 
of blood. The silhouettes of giant, bulbous masses crawled across 
the Pyramid of the Sun across the north river, and hoards of things 
pulsated beneath them. 


The Ouroboros was sedated, carried by four of our men in her body 
bag like pallbearers over the slithering earth. Two of their Agents 
stopped to help another who had been disabled by a crawling 
stretch of intestine. They were not a priority, and we continued on. 


This operation was one of seven running concurrently. The 
Ouroboros recently became unclassified to select members of the 
Serpent’s Hand and myself. Relations between us have always 
been hostile, but necessity of our cooperation was too great. Only 
the Archivists had the information necessary to ensure the proper 
ritual at the Temple summit. 


Once completed, the world would reset to a time before it went to 
hell. In this case, 2012. 


We could hear our pursuers’ dogs barking in the distance, and we 
could tell the Ouroboros was beginning to contract. The two 


imperiled Foundation Agents were yards off in the distance now, and 
one had been sucked into the womb of the earth. We heard a 
gunshot. The other had been executed by the Madmen. 


We made our way to the uneasy footing of the temple rise. | stood 
with the guards at the foot of the rise while the Archivists and the 
couriers made their way up to the platform with the Ouroboros. We 
stood with our weapons readied as the ground birthed headless men 
with sputtering necks. They ran into our fire stupidly, fell easily, but 
they began to come in swarms. 


The Madmen screamed wildly in the distance. 


Soon we were overrun. My friend was absorbed into one of the 
chest of a fleshman. | was to become a victim soon. | was grappled 
to the ground as the blood from its hanging esophagus sputtered 
over my face. 


| heard the Archivists screaming on the roof of the temple platform. | 
could feel the pressure of the golem veins as they bonded with my 
own. 


Before my exsanguination, | heard the Great Serpent’s roar. 
December 21st, 2012 
Site-10 
Transcript of 1203- : 12/21/2012 


Documentation: Excerpt from Interview with SCP-1203. 
Translated Revision 


Dr. : We would like to ask you a few questions, are 
you capable of speech? 


SCP-1203: | can’t believe they did it. 
Dr. : Excuse me? 


SCP-1203-: They brought the knife down on themselves. 


Dr. : |am not sure what you are referring to. 
SCP-1203: The ritual. | can still hear you screaming. 
Dr. : Please make yourself clear. 

SCP-1203: You were there, but it cannot be evinced. 
Dr. : Continue. 


SCP-1203: | could not control my reaction. I’m sorry. 
Everything was consumed. 


Dr. : Please clarify. 


SCP-1203: Please do not attempt this again. It is 
unpleasant for me. The pains of this kind of birth are 
unbearable. 


Dr. : Please continue. 


SCP-1203: The world is as it was despite what you’ve 
done. Time has not changed. It can’t be. 


Dr. : What exactly are you saying? What exactly 
have “we” done? 


SCP-1203: You have done nothing. You are newborn. 
<Interview Concluded> 


| Hub | 


Old Kansas Sector 1: Farmhouse 


The Last Era: 12, August, 2119 AD 
Sylvan Grove, Kansas, USA 


Allan had closed the shutters that night due to the swarms, and slept 
restlessly through the assault. He woke up the following day 
oblivious to the trial of the last night for a few moments, until he saw 
a small, circular hole letting sunlight in through his boarded window. 


The crows were diligent. 


He lived alone in his grandmother's old farmhouse. She had a 
chicken farm and she would sell eggs at the farmer's market while 
she was still alive. She was taken by a monster a few years ago 
while she was making a trip to the city. He wasn't sure of the 
particulars, but he really didn't want to know the rest. The Public 
Safety Foundation sent a notice that she was killed by a Shock 
Creature, and that death was quick. Shock in this case was meant to 
imply inevitable death.