| don't... | don't know how | got here. | don't 
even know what ‘here’ is. I was... | think | 
was working on something, when | heard 
typing sounds, and suddenly... 


RESEARCHER 
(shocked) 


| don't remember. | don't even remember 
my name. 


NARRATOR 


A beautiful woman with a doctorate in 
molecular physics — and no memory of 
who she was or how she got here. Her eyes 
told me she needed my help; her name- 
badge told me the rest. 


MURPHY 
(glancing at her name-badge) 


You're Professor Michelle Lewis. 


The RESEARCHER looks down at her name-badge, 
as if noticing it for the first time. She appears 
shocked; her eyes rise back up to stare at MURPHY. 
She now knows her name. It is DR. LEWIS. 


DR. LEWIS 


I... right. That's my name. | work for the 
Foundation. 


NARRATOR 


The Foundation. A bunch of pencil-pushing 
geeks trying to figure out where the 
magicians were hiding all those rabbits 
they pulled out of their hats. | should have 
turned her away right then and there; when 
the Foundation's involved, you know it ain't 
gonna be nothing but trouble. 


MURPHY scowls, but nods his head, moving to open 
a drawer in his desk. 


NARRATOR 


But me? I'm not the sort of man who stays 
away from trouble. 


MURPHY pulls out two shot-glasses, along with a 
bottle of half-finished whiskey. He sets them atop of 
his desk, focusing his icy stare on DR. LEWIS. 


NARRATOR 


I'm the sort who slides on over next to 
trouble and buys her a drink. 


MURPHY 
Alright, Professor. I'll take the case. 
DR. LEWIS 
You will? | mean... wait, what? 
NARRATOR 


My name is Murphy Law. And I'm the guy 
you call when everything that could go 


wrong... did. 
TITLE SPLASH 


Murphy Law in... Type 3043 — FOR 
MURDER! 


FADE OUT. 

> ATTACHMENT:: object_class.log 
FADE IN: 

INT. MURPHY'S CAR - NIGHT 


MURPHY drives; DR. LEWIS stares out the window in 
the passenger seat. City lights wash through the car, 
casting both of them in a metallic tangerine glow. 
DR. LEWIS is wearing her seat-belt; MURPHY isn't. 


MURPHY 


Alright, Professor. Talk to me: What else do 
you remember? 


DR. LEWIS 
(startled) 


How did we... when did we get inside of 
this— 


NARRATOR 


She was smart. But that was part of the 
problem: She was too smart. Always 
thinking too much. Sometimes, you just 
gotta go along for the ride. 


MURPHY 


Focus on the problem. What do you 
remember before stepping into my office? 


DR. LEWIS 
(frowning, but thinking) 


...right. | was working on something. 
Updating documentation, | think. 
Something about a change, an important 
one. That's when | heard typing in the other 
room. And then | felt dizzy, and it was like... 


DR. LEWIS 
(shaking her head) 


Like something was trying to erase me. 
Erase the thoughts in my head, even as | 
was having them. 


NARRATOR 


Sounded to me like the Professor stumbled 
onto something she wasn't supposed to. 
Somebody had tried to rub her out — but 
who? And how? 


MURPHY 
Anything else? 
DR. LEWIS 
(thinking) 


I think... | can't remember all the updates | 
was making, but it had to do with 
SCP-3043. 


MURPHY 
Alright. What's 3043? 
DR. LEWIS 


(frowning) 
I... don't remember. 
NARRATOR 


If | was going to figure out this mystery, | 
had to find out what 3043 really was. And if 
the Professor couldn't tell me, there was 
only one other person who could. 


MURPHY turns left, brows crinkling with renewed 
focus. 


NARRATOR 
Site Director August. 
FADE OUT. 
FADE IN: 
EXT. FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS 


MURPHY's car parks just outside of a sprawling 
gated mansion. 


NARRATOR 


If Site-95 was the rotting corpse, Site 
Director August was the worms wriggling 
inside of its corrupted core. Bribery, 
extortion, racketeering — he had his dirty 
paws in the pocket of every two-bit 
researcher, agent, and D-Class from Level 
9 down to Sub-Level 7. 


MURPHY shifts the car in park; DR. LEWIS turns to 
look at him. MURPHY moves to open the door. 


NARRATOR 


SCP-371: Macrovirus 


Item #: SCP-371 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: All specimens of SCP-371 are 
to be contained in ocean-water tanks, filled with at least seven 
hundred fifty (750) liters of water (approx. 200 gallon) per specimen 
at between 2 and 5 degrees Celsius. Walls may be constructed of 
any waterproof metal or plate glass, and at least two inches thick. 
Once every thirty (30) days, a live animal weighing between 25 and 
45 kilograms (preferably oceanic fish, although in emergencies, any 
terrestrial vertebrate including humans with the head kept 
suspended above water will suffice) is to be deposited in the 
containment unit. Following the completion of the lytic cycle after ten 
days, several SCP-371 specimens may be maintained, and all extra 
are to be strained out of the excurrent water, dried, and incinerated. 


Any personnel entering SCP-371's containment chamber 
intentionally must be equipped with SCUBA gear, commercially 
available “shark-proof” diving armor, thick faceplates, and kevlar 
helmets. If these measures fail or are breached for any reason, the 
animal supply for that month may be skipped. 


There are currently 15 SCP-371 specimens in containment. 


Description: SCP-371 is a macroscopic marine virus, similar in 
appearance to a bacteriophage. SCP-371 specimens range in size 
from between 20 centimeters to 2.5 meters, are somewhat 
transparent, and can be mistaken for jellyfish in water. 


SCP-371's physiology and behavior appear similar to ordinary 
microscopic viruses, although with several adaptions that make it a 
notable marine predator: the contractile tail fibers, shown in Image 
A, are composed of stiffened proteins and are adapted for 
locomotion (swimming, grasping, walking on the ocean floor); a 


But he also had ears everywhere. When a 
gnat took a crap, he heard the plop. If 
anyone knew what 3043 really was, it would 
be him. 


DR. LEWIS 
(reaching for MURPHY) 
Mr. Law. Wait. 
MURPHY pauses, looking back at her. 
DR. LEWIS 


| just remembered — the update | was 
going to make to the documentation. 


MURPHY tilts his head, waiting. 
DR. LEWIS 
(frowning) 


| was going to change its Object Class. It 
isn't ‘Safe’, Mr. Law. It's... 


DR. LEWIS 
(staring at the mansion) 
It's Keter. 


MURPHY nods grimly, then turns to shut the door. 
Filled with conviction, he turns to walk toward the 
mansion's gates. 


FADE OUT. 
> ATTACHMENT:: special_containment_procedures.log 


FADE IN: 


INT. SITE DIRECTOR'S OFFICE - MORNING 


The office is expensively furnished, with framed- 
glass windows on three of its four walls; outside, a 
lush garden grows on all of its sides. Morning light 
streams in through the windows, casting the room in 
a warm glow. 


Standing behind the desk — facing the rising sun — 
is a man. He is short, with russet-brown skin, a 
shaved head, and a face full of piercings. He wears 
an exceptionally fine black suit. This is Site Director 
AUGUST: A hard, brilliant man with a heart of steel. 


As MURPHY enters through the door, he's flanked by 
two men in sharp suits. They are silent, but armed; 
ready to do violence at a snap of AUGUST's fingers. 
As MURPHY shrugs himself out of their grip, they 
station themselves on either side of him. 


AUGUST 
(staring out the window) 
Mr. Law. You wanted to see me? 
MURPHY 
(dusting off his coat) 
Yeah. About 3043. 
NARRATOR 


When dealing with Site Director August, 
you didn't try to bluff. You just kept your 
cards close and hoped to God the man 
didn't have a better hand. 


AUGUST 


That's classified. 


MURPHY 


Is it, now? Since when does the Foundation 
care about classifying 'Safe’ anomalies? 


AUGUST turns, ever so slightly. A pierced eyebrow 
is raised. 


NARRATOR 
| just raised the ante. 
AUGUST 


How would you know that? And we care 
about classifying a// anomalies, Mr. Law. 


MURPHY 


So I've been told. But a little birdy tells me 
you might have classified one of them 
wrong. 3043 ain't Safe. It's Keter. 


AUGUST turns completely, staring MURPHY down. 
AUGUST 
(smiling) 


You've been speaking to Dr. Lewis, | 
presume. Where is she? 


NARRATOR 


Something wasn't right. He was already 
calling me — and men like Site Director 
August only smiled the instant before they 
laid down a winning hand. 


MURPHY 
Safe. Unlike 3043. What is it? 


AUGUST narrows his eyes. He gives the slightest 
nod. 


NARRATOR 


That was his tell. He unwittingly had shown 
me his cards: Pair of aces. 


The two men on MURPHY 's left and right instantly 
reach for their sidearms. 


NARRATOR 
Lucky for me, | was packing three of a kind. 


MURPHY slams his left elbow into one man's 
stomach; he uses his right hand to draw his 
magnum .44. As the second man pulls his piece, 
MURPHY pistol whips him in the temple — he goes 
down. MURPHY spins and opens fire — three shots 
slam into AUGUST's desk. 


AUGUST freezes, but shows no fear. His eyes 
narrow. 


NARRATOR 
It was time to cash out. 
MURPHY 
3043. Last chance. What is it? 


MURPHY pauses long enough to kick one of the men 
on the floor, but never looks away from AUGUST. 


AUGUST 
You know precisely what it is. 
MURPHY 


Humor me. 


AUGUST 


It's you, Mr. Law. You're the anomaly. 
You're SCP-3043. 


MURPHY narrows his eyes. He gives one last kick to 
one of the men, then charges out the door. 


FADE OUT. 
FADE IN: 
EXT. FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS 


MURPHY's car is still waiting for him; he runs toward 
it. 


NARRATOR 


Someone had played me like a fiddle. It was 
all a setup — and I was the stooge. 


As he reaches his car, he finds it empty; no sign of 
DR. LEWIS. 


NARRATOR 


3043 was going to make me take the heat 
for whatever it did to the Professor. It had 
me wrapped up nice and tight — even got 
me to present myself to the Foundation in a 
pretty little bow. 


MURPHY gets into the car, starting it up. 
NARRATOR 


But there was one thing 3043 didn't count 
on: A man with nothing to lose. 


The tires squeal as he burns rubber, driving away. 


NARRATOR 


If the Foundation couldn't contain 3043... 
then I'd just have to contain it myself. 


FADE OUT. 

> ATTACHMENT:: description.log 
FADE IN: 

INT. DR. LEWIS' LAB 


MURPHY kicks down the door, clad in his trilby — 
-44 magnum in hand. The interior of the lab looks like 
an office; bookshelves stuffed full of science 
journals, several desks, paperwork scattered 
everywhere... and DR. LEWIS' chair. The chair's tall 
back obscures whoever is sitting in it. 


NARRATOR 


One thing kept coming back to mind. One 
thing that the Professor had said... 


MURPHY creeps forward, gun in hand, reaching a 
hand out for the chair. 


NARRATOR 
She said she heard ‘typing’. 
MURPHY grasps the chair, spinning it around. 


Sitting in the chair is a black 1937 Olympia Elite 
typewriter. A roll of paper is inside of it; it 
communicates via typing. As MURPHY points the 
gun at it, it begins to type furiously. 


SCP-3043 
HOW 
SCP-3043 


HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE 
NARRATOR 
3043 was her goddamn typewriter. 
SCP-3043 


WHY CAN'T | REWRITE YOUR STUPID 
STORY 


SCP-3043 
WHAT ARE YOU 


DR. LEWIS suddenly steps out from the shadows, a 
.45 in hand. She points it squarely at MURPHY. 


DR. LEWIS 
Step away from the typewriter, Mr. Law. 
SCP-3043 
HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS 
MURPHY turns, his gun pointed back at DR. LEWIS. 
MURPHY 


It's controlling you, Professor. Just like it 
controlled August — and everyone else. It 
was pretending to be Safe — not letting 
anyone know it was sapient. 


DR. LEWIS 
(frowns, grimacing) 
That's... 

SCP-3043 


HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN DOING 
THIS 


DR. LEWIS 


You're... the anomaly, Mr. Law. | have to 
take... you in... 


DR. LEWIS' hand shakes; the gun trembles. 


MURPHY 


It can rewrite any story it's part of — even 
the stories in your head. When you realized 
it, you tried to update the documentation, 
and it tried to erase your story... erase you. 


SCP-3043 
STOP 

SCP-3043 
JUST FUCKING STOP 

SCP-3043 


HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU REWRITING MY 
STORY INTO YOUR OWN FUCKING STUPID 
HUMPHREY BOGART FANFIC NONSENSE 


DR. LEWIS 


I... [have to contain you... 


DR. LEWIS shudders, stepping back; her hand lifts 
to grasp her temple. The gun tumbles to the floor. 


SCP-3043 
THIS ISN'T RIGHT 
SCP-3043 


I'M SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE IN 
CONTROL HERE 


SCP-3043 


THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE MY STORY NOT 
YOURS 


MURPHY turns, pointing his magnum at SCP-3043. 


SCP-3043 
WAIT 

SCP-3043 
JUST 

SCP-3043 
FUCKING WAIT 


MURPHY pauses, waiting. DR. LEWIS sinks down to 
a seat, still rubbing her temples. 


SCP-3043 
ALRIGHT LOOK JUST 

SCP-3043 
I'LL ERASE MYSELF 

SCP-3043 


I'LL ERASE ALL DOCUMENTATION ABOUT 
MYSELF EVEN FROM OTHER PEOPLE'S 
HEADS 


SCP-3043 


THEN I'LL MAKE MY DOCUMENTATION 
NOT REFER TO ME BUT JUST SAY THAT 


THIS LAB IS OFF-LIMITS 
SCP-3043 
THAT WILL CONTAIN ME 
NARRATOR 


3043 could do it, too. Sure, it could have 
been a trick... but maybe not. Letting 3043 
live, despite what it had tried to do — it felt 
like what a good man would do. 
MURPHY 
It'd be the right thing to do, wouldn't it? 
SCP-3043 
YES 
SCP-3043 
YOU WANT TO BE THE HERO RIGHT 
SCP-3043 
THAT'S WHAT THIS IS ABOUT 
SCP-3043 
YOU'RE THE HERO 
SCP-3043 


SO ACT HEROIC 


FADE OUT. 


Two gunshots. 


NARRATOR 


sharpened and hardened beak-like base plate, rendering the virus 
capable of injecting genetic material through the dermal skin of 
multicellular prey; and presumably unknown sensory organs 
(SCP-371 cannot see or hear, but appears to hunt by sensing heat, 
vibrations, and pressure/salinity gradients). Most notable is 
SCP-371's encoding mechanism, which does not use the direct 
injection of DNA or RNA, but rather numerous microscopic DNA- 
encoding packets, which enter host cells and use them to respawn 
the macroscopic organism inside the host. 


Stages of SCP-371 Infection 

0 Hours, Infection: SCP-371 pierces host's skin and 
injects genetic material into the host, usually into the 
cranial or abdominal cavity, causing significant pain. 

8 Hours, Transcription (“Bonding”): SCP-371 genetic 
“packets” begin normal transcription/translation process, 
bonding with host RNA. 

95 Hours, Synthesis (“Spawning”): As host cells 
replicate, they begin to encode extracellular proteins in 
the abdominal cavity, which form new SCP-371 
specimens over time (between 10 and 100, depending 
on host size; specimen size also changes with host size). 
240 Hours, Lysis (“Bursting”): Once specimens have 
reached 20 centimeters in size, they exit the host body in 
a modified bursting pattern, causing severe trauma to the 
host and often resulting in serious bleeding, internal 
injuries, and death. SCP-371 lyses only in water, and for 
terrestrial prey will postpone this stage until the host 
enters water again. 


For the rest of its life cycle, SCP-371 hunts and apparently filters 
salts and sediments from ocean water in order to grow up to 2.5 
meters in size. The virus' average life cycle is 60 days, although the 
oldest contained specimen is currently 109 days old. 


Addendum 371-A 

The initial SCP-371 specimens were found in the area of the 
Caribbean Sea, following the death of , who was attacked 
when diving with a partner, who managed to capture film of three 
SCP-371 specimens clinging onto him (two on the head, one on the 


Heroes always do what's right. But me? 
FADE IN: 
EXT. CITY STREETS - SUNSET 


MURPHY walks out of the lab and into the streets, 
smoking a cigarette — holstering his piece. He walks 
away, toward the fading sun. 


NARRATOR 
I'm no hero. I'm Murphy Law. 
FADE OUT. 
FADE IN: 
INT. DR. LEWIS' LAB 


DR. LEWIS, now starting to recover, walks toward 
SCP-3043. Wisps of smoke rise up from it; two fresh 
-44 slugs have been pumped into it. The paper inside 
of it has its previous dialogue, with one addition at 
the very bottom. 


NARRATOR