She could almost hear the voice of her Applied Sorcery professor 
now: "The Principle of Contagion is one of the most laws forms of 
magic, and forms the basis of the oldest workings still taught by the 
Center. The principle is simple: Once Together, Always Together. 
The part influences the whole, and two things that have been in 
contact with each other maintain a magical link with each other. It's 
the reason why voodoo dolls require hair or nail clippings from the 
intended victim as part of their construction, why relics of saints and 
martyrs are revered and treasured, and the basis of an oddly 
strident memorandum to all GOC male operatives regarding the 
proper disposal of used condoms after sex..." 


A few drops of dried-out urine weren't the best link Spider had ever 
used, but she'd made do with worse. 


D-75213 wasn't a bad man. True, he'd killed a man, but the 
bastard'd had it coming for what he'd done to his little brother. He'd 
taken the deal that the man in the black suit had offered him for one 
simple reason: one month was better than fifteen to life, any way 
you looked at it. The sooner he could serve his time (whether that 
time was spent behind prison bars, or serving as bait for monsters 
out of fairy tales), the sooner he could go home to take care of his 
mama. At any other time, he couldn't have been convinced to do 
what Spider was going to make him do, but he'd just nearly been 
killed by a motherfucking unicorn, and his head wasn't in the right 
place... 


D-75213 wasn't consciously aware of reaching out and pulling up 
one of the seven silver stakes that held the unicorn down under the 
net. The unicorn, however, noticed immediately. It tore the net free 
from the remaining stakes and lunged for freedom. It didn't intend to 
kill D-75213, but he was in the way... 


The pearlescent horn slashed the confused convict in twain and 
bounded away into the darkness. 


"FUCK!" Lombardi shouted, as the creature galloped into the woods. 
He chased it for a few meters, but quickly gave up, letting out 
another low curse and shaking his head angrily. "All right, pack it up, 
boys. This mission's a bust." 


"We can still go after it, Max!" Vance shouted. 


Max Lombardi wheeled on his protege, grabbing the younger man 
by the collar. "You want to go chasing after a unicorn without a virgin 
as bait? Be my guest! I'll even pitch in for flowers at your funeral. 
Me, I'm packing it up and calling it a night. We've got three down 
and we've lost our rabbit. We're operationally ineffective!" 


"Why the hell did he do that?" Beckett asked. "Why did he pull the 
stake? He knew what would happen, didn't he?" 


"Did he? | don't know. | don't fucking know. All | know is that we're 
aborting the mission. I'll call it in. God-fucking damn it, what a 
fucking waste..." 


Vance shook his head, but didn't argue further. As the sun rose, the 
seven remaining members of the Foundation Containment Team 
packed up the remains of their three colleagues (and one D-Class 
personnel) and prepared to head back home. 


They found the unicorn silently grazing on the short grass at the 
edge of a ring of mushrooms. It was a surreal sight, seeing that 
grotesque creature clipping the grass with its sharklike teeth. 


Its head snapped up and stared directly at them as Assessment 
Team Sparkplug stopped at the edge of the clearing. The four of 
them froze in place, staring silently at the deadly creature. 


The unicorn snorted, then slowly walked towards Spider and dipped 
its head down to her, nuzzling against her outstretched hand. 


Spider gulped nervously as the creature rubbed its nose and face 
against hers, the coppery, ketone-laced stench of its breath wafting 
all around her like a miasma of death. 


Then the sun rose, and it vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving 


behind a swirling cloud of fireflies that, just as quickly, vanished from 
view. 


"| didn't figure you for a virgin,” Bullfrog said softly. 


"After my identity reassignment? Yeah. | guess | am," Spider 
whispered. 


She rubbed her face, where the unicorn had nuzzled her. It came 
away holding a small, glassy scale. The scale itself soon faded away 
into powder, leaving behind no trace that it had ever existed. 


"All right," Bullfrog said, clearing his throat. "We've got a long walk 
back. Let's get started." 


D.C. al Fine closed the mission report and tossed it into her desk, on 
top of a neat stack of printouts, readouts, and reports. 


"All things considered," she said to no one at all, "Assessment Team 
Sparkplug did better than anyone anticipated." 


"The auguries never lie," the Speaker to Humans replied, her image 
coalescing into view on al Fine's computer screen. "The Silicon 
goddesses foretold this result." 


"As did His Satanic Majesty," whispered Marcus Crowley into her 
ear. Each word brought with it the scent of brimstone and the 
undertones of the screaming of the damned. "You were wrong to 
mistrust their abilities." 


"Then why do you sound so disappointed?" al Fine asked. 
"We do not—" 


The Undersecretary-General opened up another file folder and 
tossed it into the desk. "The full report of the augury by the Silicon 
Nornir," al Fine said. "And don't ask where | got it. I'm not going to 
tell you. The Nornir did predict a 95% chance of mission success. 
But they also predicted a 50% chance of increased tensions with the 
Foundation. Which is interesting, because there are other teams that 
had around the same chance of mission success, but much lower 


chances of pissing off the Foundation." 


"And as for you... the Satanic Scientists have always objected to the 
Coalition's maintenance of the Arthurian Charters with the Kingdoms 
of Faerie, haven't they?" al Fine went on. "And the most likely 
scenario if Team Sparkplug didn't manage to piss off the Foundation 
was increased tension with the Fae. And suddenly and 
coincidentally, | have two organizations who have never given each 
other the time of day forming a voting bloc to push the Council to 
have me put Team Sparkplug back in the field. Interesting." 


"| don't know what you're implying—." 


"I'm not implying anything. I'm saying it outright. Don't use PHYSICS 
Division to advance your own personal agendas again," al Fine said 
curtly. "If | ever get another whiff of that from either of you..." 


She raised her hand and tapped a button. Immediately, the images 
of both Marcus Crowley and the Speaker to Humans flinched as two 
Strike Teams appeared out of thin air at their respective locations, 
deactivating their invisibility cloaks and raising their rifles to their 
shoulders. 


"... [know who you are and where you are," she concluded. "The 
next time you see these guys, it'll be the last thing you ever see." 


"You can't—" 


"The hell | can't. First and Second Mission priorities. 'Survival of the 
Human Race’ and 'Concealment of the Paranormal World’ trumps 
protecting the lives of two individual humans. This meeting is 
adjourned." 


She tapped her keyboard a second time. The Strike Teams lowered 
their rifles, re-engaged their invisibility cloaks, and faded back into 
the darkness. 


The last thing D.C. al Fine saw before the representatives from the 
Silicon Nornir and the Church of Satan (Scientist) vanished from her 
computer screen were the angry and astonished expressions on 
their faces. They wouldn't soon forgive this. 


Then again, neither would she. 


"We now begin the most important phase of any mission," Bullfrog 
said, raising his beer mug. "Post-mission beers with the team. Toa 
successful mission, and none of us getting hurt or killed!" 


"And to a piss-stained mask saving the day," Skunkboy added. 
"Hear hear." 


The four team members clinked glasses and took long sips of their 
foamy brew: Lucky Killigan's house draft. The bar didn't exist on any 
maps or in any directories: technically, it was an illegal operation, 
without a liquor license. Given that the owner, bartender, and all the 
guests were all GOC operatives, the local government were 
understandably lax to bust them. 


Spider took another long sip of her beer, savoring the cold, bitter 
brew, before putting the glass down and clearing her throat. "| don't 
want to be morbid," she said delicately, "But there is something I've 
been wondering." 


"Go, Spider," Bullfrog said, pouring himself another beer. 
"How did Beagle die?" Spider asked. 


The other three members of the team froze in place. "You mean you 
don't know?" Skunkboy asked. 


"His file just said 'Killed in Action.’ It didn't say anything more than 
tha—" 


"He got eaten by a dragon," Kitten said. 


"Technically, a Non-Autocthonic Lifeform from another dimension. ..' 
Skunkboy pointed out. 


"It was three hundred feet long. It had scales, it flew, and it breathed 
fire." 


"It didn't technically breathe fire. It spat a colloidal white phosphorus 


and sodium—" 
"Dragon," Kitten insisted. 
"Fine, it was a dragon." Skunkboy said. "In any case, it ate him." 


"Roasted him alive and ate him like a piece of popcorn chicken," 
Kitten agreed. 


"You know what his last words were? 'Hang on, you guys. I've got 
this.’ What a fucking idiot." 


"To Agent Beagle." Bullfrog said, raising his glass again. "The 
bravest, most glorious, most fucking idiotic man | ever met." 


"Hear hear." 
They clinked glasses again and drank. 


"Sequence" 
« START | Return to GOC Hub | "Strike" » 


SCP-655: Biological Disinformation Campaign 


Item #: SCP-655 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: Site-731 has been established 
at the premises of SCP-655. Personnel are advised that due to 
chronic political instability in the regime of the Democratic Republic 
of the Congo, no recognition of Site-731 as a Foundation asset 
exists at a national level. Site-731's activities occur under the 
auspices of Kreutzfeld Pharmaceuticals GmbH, a Foundation front 
organization, and the facility is to maintain cover as a tropical 
infectious disease research outpost. 


Site-731 security protocols are set at Code Green, and security 
personnel are to be attired and equipped as members of a mid-sized 
private military contractor. Subsequent to the events of 07/29/2002 
(see Incident Report 655-48 for details), Site-731 security personnel 
must receive specific authorization from the Level 4 Central African 
Affairs Coordinator prior to actively engaging armed groups 
approaching the security perimeter of SCP-655. 


All SCP-655-A specimens are to be cataloged and observed for a 
minimum of two weeks when possible. At the discretion of the Site 
Director, specimens may either be held for observation indefinitely 
after this initial period, or euthanized, autopsied, and preserved in 
the Site-731 biological archives. 


Description: SCP-655 is an 18 m x 20 m x 4 m windowless 
structure within a complex of buildings located approximately 35 km 
NNE of Kisangani, Democratic Republic of the Congo. This complex 
was originally known as the Stanleyville Imperial Biology Institute, 
and was established by Belgian Congo colonial authorities in 1898. 
The complex housing SCP-655 was coterminous at the time of its 
establishment with a now-defunct cobalt mine. 


"AWTOK" 


"... lately," Jenny said, "I've been feeling a lot more dragonish." 


The other nine people sitting around the circle nodded and made 
sympathetic noises, as Agent Griggs suppressed a groan. 


"I've been hoarding cash," Jenny said, "and feeling greedy and 
gluttonous. Yesterday, | cooked a meatloaf... and | ate it all in one 
night. And I've been really wondering what it would be like to sleep 
on a bed of coins..." 


So what you're saying is that you're a fat, greedy bitch? Griggs 
thought. 


"... Lreally don't know what to do. On the one hand, | want to 
express my dragonish side a bit more. But on the other hand, I've 
gained ten pounds, and my friends and family think I'm being 
weird..." 


That's because you are weird, you stupid cow. 


"Well," Loredinal, Master of the Summer Court of the High Elvish 
Legions (better known as Tom Smith of La Jolla) said, "Can any of 
us think of anything that could help our draconian sister with her 
problems?" 


"| can!" said the peppy young Kasumiko (born Vanessa Charleston 
of San Diego). "Jenny, maybe you should try roleplaying things out? 
If you ever feel like kidnapping a maiden, maybe you could have a 
friend volunteer to get tied up for a bit?” She bounced up and down 
in her chair, the fake fox ears she wore waving a bit in response. 


"| don't know if my friends would be up for that," Jenny said, smiling. 
"And honestly, it's not really the whole kidnapping maidens thing 
that's getting to me. More the eating too much and wanting to hoard 
things..." 


"Nightshadow?" Loredinal said to Griggs. "You've been quiet. 
Anything to add?" 


"Hm? Not really," Griggs said. "Sorry I've been distracted lately." 


"Ah. Problems with the rest of the Vampire Council?" Loredinal 
asked sympathetically. 


More like problems with the rest of you delusional fucks. "You know 
| can't talk about that, without breaking my vows," Griggs said slowly 
and carefully. 


Everyone else around the circle nodded sympathetically. "Well," 
Loredinal said. "I think we've done some good work. Just something 
to keep in mind, though: AWTOK has been snooping around 
recently, and we're worried that they may try a snatch-and-grab. 
Remember what happened to Bianca..." 


That angry teenage girl who you swore were kidnapped by 
government agents, but turned up in a crack house in Compton? 


"... and be safe. Meeting adjourned." 

Everyone stood up and started to gather their things. "By the way," 
Jenny said. "I'm feeling hungry. Anyone want to come with me to get 
a burger?" 

"Meat? Ugh," Loredinal shuddered. 

"| can't eat gluten," Razorfang the White-clawed pointed out. 


"I'll come!" Kasumiko giggled. "Wanna come along, Nightshadow?" 


Maybe, if it meant | could put a bullet between your eyes. "| don't eat 
meat, remember?" was all Griggs said. 


"Awww... that's right. Welp. Time to go! Ta ta!" She grabbed Jenny 
by the arm and dragged the quiet girl out of the room. 


Thank God, Griggs sighed. 


He drove three blocks away before pulling into a parking lot and 
taking out his cell phone. He checked his contacts, found the 
number for his AWTOK handler, and hit the "dial" button. 


AWTOK here, the voice said, after the first ring. Report. 


"They're a bunch of stupid kids playing elves and dragons," Griggs 
sighed. "I've been spending the past three weeks going to their 
stupid meetings. Can | stop now?" 


Have you confirmed whether any of them are actual past-lifers 
or nonhumans? the voice asked. 


"What? No. | haven't confirmed anything, because there's nothing to 
confirm! It's just a bunch of stupid kids playing make-believe!" 
Griggs repeated. 


Unacceptable. Capture them and bring them in for further 
experimentation. 


"... damn it, are you kidding me?" Griggs groaned. "You want me to 
bring in a bunch of stupid kids just in case one of them turns out to 
actually be some kind of magical fairy person?" 


You have your orders. AWTOK out. 


Griggs groaned and rested his head against the steering wheel as 
he heard the dial tone. 


"Shit," he groaned. "Now | gotta rent a van." 


"... oh, hey, Nightshadow!" Loredinal said, smiling. "You're here 
early." 


"Was just thinking that maybe | could help out a bit, with the snacks 
or something," Griggs said. "I've kind of been a bit of a jerk recently." 


"Understandable. Vampire court politics being what they are. 
Kasumiko is in the kitchen, making guacamole. Maybe you can help 
her out?" 


"Sounds good." Griggs said. His index finger gently rested against 
the small vial in his coat pocket.