Dr. Jeremiah Cimmerian sat in the back of a powder blue Lincoln 
Continental at the outer gate of Site-88. It wasn't a long drive from 
Mobile Regional Airport to Site-88, and Cimmerian had enjoyed the 
scenery. Cimmerian's driver, an elderly, quiet, and somber man with 
a barely detectable southern drawl, flashed identification to the 
guard, and they moved past the outer perimeter. Two other cars 
were ahead of them at the second checkpoint. 


Cimmerian tried to get a closer look at the other two cars. "Kent, 
right?" 


"Yes, sir," the driver answered. 
"Busy day today?" Cimmerian closed his laptop. 


"Probably more engineers out of 352," Kent said with a nod. "The 
regional director's been pushing us to upgrade our containment 
wings." 


"Kate was on us about those upgrades for years. I'm surprised 
they're finally following through, honestly." 


Kent turned around, seeming interested for the first time this entire 
trip. "You know the Regional Director?" 


"| didn't actually meet her in person until that breach a few years 


back. Though the circumstances weren't exactly conducive for us to 
get acquainted. If it wasn't for that I'd just know her as a name on 
reports | filed.” 


Kent put his arm on the back of the front passenger seat. "You used 
to work here?" 


"Yeah. Site Liaison for the Ethics Committee." 


Kent laughed and turned back. For a minute, Cimmerian thought, he 
must've thought | was important. 


You are not just scientists and you are not just agents. 
You are diplomats. The world is counting on you to not 
just contain threats, but to avoid taking actions that 
create new ones. There are many objects that will not or 
cannot care how morally or ethically you treat them. 
There are also many that will care. And we care. 


Remedial Ethics: A Refresher, Page 2. 


Cimmerian turned the doorknob leading to Director Maddox's office 
and nearly choked on the smell of cigar smoke. The photos on the 

bookshelves were significantly older than the ones on the desk. All 

of them were pictures of Maddox, at various stages of his life. 


Maddox greeted him warmly. Cimmerian had heard these sorts of 
pleasantries before. Regular staff might not care, but site directors 
knew better than to piss off a member of the Ethics Committee. 
Everyone had skeletons. 


Cimmerian just nodded along until Maddox got to the real question 
on his mind. "What brings you back to Site-88?" 


"Honest-to-god ethics violations, believe it or not," Cimmerian said, 
pulling a file folder from his bag. "I'm here to investigate your 
Liaison's reports." 


"Ahh. Yeah, she's been complaining about a lot of our work 
recently." 


Cimmerian nodded. "Mostly stuff relating to the Alpha-Nine trials, 
right?" 


Maddox stopped suddenly. "You're cleared for that?" 
"Did you think the committee was just skipping the party?" 


Maddox composed himself. "Sorry. Um. Ok. Your liaison..." Maddox 
paused for a moment as if remembering the name. "Jenkins. She's 
complaining about some of our work because she's not read up on 
Alpha-Nine. There's not much we can do about that right now, 
though." 


"Even so, we can't just ignore the reports. That would be even more 
suspicious." 


"So, you're just going to run around the site and make it look like 
you're checking up on things?" 


"I'm focusing on 2913, so depending on how that goes | might be out 
of your hair before the end of the day." 


"2913?" Maddox shifted in his seat. 


Cimmerian pulled a folder from his bag and opened it. "I'd like to talk 
to you about the impact testing you ordered last month." 


SCP-2913 is a severed right hand, formerly belonging to 
James Hallman (deceased), which is capable of 
independent movement. Approximately 5.1 centimeters 
of the radial bone and 4.6 centimeters of the ulna extend, 
uncovered by skin, behind the wrist joint. Despite the 
lack of a biological support system and obvious trauma 
associated with the terminating ends of the bones behind 
the wrist joint, SCP-2913 remains healthy. 


SCP-2913 is capable of speech, hearing, sight, and 
smell. SCP-2913 has shown a moderate level of skill in 
complex problem solving. While SCP-2913 has been 
observed to move its fingers and thumb together in 
tandem during the act of "speaking", observation of 


SCP-2913 has revealed the auditory source of speech to 
be between the 1st and 2nd metacarpal bones even in 
the absence of motion. 


~ SCP-2913's Documentation. 


Doctor Cimmerian sighed. The records he'd read had prepared him 
for this... but this was exactly the kind of SCP object that made it 
difficult for him to do his job properly. Cimmerian wasn't a naturally 
emotional person, but he was human. Remaining objective was 
always a struggle. 


Better get this over with now. 


The inside of SCP-2913's containment chamber was grey and 
sterile. Cimmerian sat down at the desk on one side of the glass 
partition. SCP-2913 lay almost motionless on a table, facing a 
television. Cimmerian could tell the room hadn't been properly 
cleaned in a few days. He wrote that down in his notebook, then 
activated the microphone. 


"Hello?" 


The hand jumped and spoke. "Holy heck!" 2913 turned and moved 
its fingers and thumb in time with the words. "Who are you?" 


"I'm Dr. Cimmerian." 
"Well heya Cimmy. Can | call you Cimmy?" 
Cimmerian paused for a moment. "Sure." 


The hand walked on its fingers to get closer to the glass partition. "| 
never saw you before." 


"I've never come down here before. Han, | think?" Cimmerian put 
the object's documentation on the desk in front of him. 


"Haha. You're the first one to call me that. | was getting used to 
2913." 


"Il can call you that instead if..." Cimmerian began. 


"No! | like it. It's much more personal than the number." 


"Ok. Han. | wanted to get your perspective on the tests they've been 
running on you." 


Han recoiled slightly. "Maddox knows what he's doing. He's been 
with me since | first got here." 


Cimmerian nodded. "I understand that. I'm just helping him out. The 
more you can tell me about the testing, the better | can help Maddox 
with his job." 


"Well, tell him just because my bones heal quick doesn't mean it 
doesn't hurt when they break 'em." 


Cimmerian started to answer when a short blast of noise blared over 
the intercom, followed by a voice. "Warning. This is not a drill. 
Please remain in your current locations until further notice. There 
has been an incursion in sector 4." 


Han spoke up excitedly. "Are you about to go all John McClane on 
their asses?" 


Cimmerian pulled out his phone. No bars. "They locked the door 
before they played that message. No escape." 


"You're just going to wait it out?" 


"Not much choice." Cimmerian set his phone down on the desk. "I'm 
safer in here than | would've been out there." 


There was a pause from Han before it turned around and crawled 
towards its television remote. "You wanna watch Game of Thrones 
then? | can start it over from the beginning of the season if you 
want." 


Cimmerian looked over at his phone. Still no signal. Shit. 


"Maybe later," Cimmerian said. "Right now we need to talk about 
those tests." 


| have here a copy of Dr. Kondraki's termination 
procedure proposal. Step one is his plan to use cat urine 
and a pistol loaded with silver bullets. Backup plans two, 
three, four, And five are listed as, and | quote, 'Wing It,’ 
‘Make Something Up,’ 'Cross That Bridge When | Come 
To It," and 'Put My Head Between My Knees And Kiss 
My Ass Goodbye.' 


~ Post-Incident Interview 083-CLEF-01 


The questioning was routine. When it was over, Han had apologized 
if it was getting Maddox into any trouble. Cimmerian had laughed at 
that. Now though, with the hand back to watching television, 
Cimmerian was moving around the room awkwardly holding up his 
cellphone and hoping for a signal. 


A distant rumbling shook the containment chamber and interrupted 
them both. Cimmerian looked around as the power blinked twice 
and then went out for good. 


For a brief moment there was complete silence. Then the backup 
systems kicked on. Red emergency lights illuminated the room, and 
the ventilation system began to move air again. 


During that brief silence, Cimmerian thought he could hear 
something outside the door. He put his ear up to the wall and 
listened. He heard the faint sound of a declined access card. 


"Shit." Cimmerian said, even though Han couldn't hear him 
anymore. 


Cimmerian dragged the desk to the left wall before flipping it over on 
its side. The intercom clattered to the floor. Cimmerian pulled the 
table closer to the wall, and then laid down beside it. 


Outside, a knocking started, and quickly became louder. Cimmerian 
closed his eyes, covered his ears, and took a small breath. He heard 
the metal door come off its hinges a moment later and slam to the 
ground. Cimmerian opened his mouth and breathed out slowly. The 
men outside threw an object into the middle of the room. 


The world went white, and then very black. 


14:45:01 Second group of hostiles (designated 
"Dasher") breaches 2913's containment cell. A flash 
bang is deployed into the breached room. 


14:45:13 Dasher-1 and 4 enter 2913's cell while 
Dasher-2, 3, and 5 remain outside. 


14:46:34 Dasher-1 and 4 leave 2913's cell with 2913 ina 
cloth bag carried by Dasher-4. Remains of this bag later 
indicate it to be a Kevlar weave. 


14:46:39 Dasher receives a radio signal from Prancer 
(first group of hostiles) requesting assistance at 2343's 
containment cell. (Please see incident report 1430 for 
more information on LMTF 352 Dalet's neutralization of 
"Prancer".) 


14:47:05 Dasher proceeds 13 meters before 2913 
escapes its confinement. 


14:47:06 2913 exits bag, brushing Dasher-4's belt as it 
falls to the floor. 


14:47:10 A fragmentation grenade detonates on 
Dasher-4's belt (It has been determined that this was an 
accidental detonation relating to 2913's fall.), killing 
Dasher-1,2,4, and 5. Dasher-3 is mortally injured and will 
die before security teams arrive. 2913 is thrown away 
from explosion. 


14:47:25 2913 recovers and returns to its cell. 


Note: Request by 2913 to keep grenade pin acquired 
from Dasher-4 as a "souvenir" is currently under 
consideration. 


~ Video Surveillance: Incursion Log 88-04 


There would be debriefings, investigations, and reports to file, but 


sold by the franchise. 


Notes: That was delicious. 


Experiment 702-032 


Name of Researcher: Dr. Quater 

Interacting Personnel: D-2315 

Object Traded: SCP-682 contained in a large tank 
Object Recieved: One (1) rose-ringed parakeet 


Notes: SCP-702-1 considered the containment tank for roughly 13 
minutes before acceptance. SCP-682 returned to chamber 16 hours 
after trade. SCP-702-1 is reluctant to provide details. Parakeet 
currently being kept at Dr. Quater's office. 


Experiment 702-033 


Name of Researcher: Dr. 
Interacting Personnel: D-5743 


Object Traded: One (1) infant female Ankylosaurus magniventris 
(birthed by SCP-646(yet to be listed)) weighing at fourty-eight(48) 
pounds, with a note reading, "If you have one, may | have a baby 
Triceratops? Please?" written down. 


Object Received: One (1) infant male Triceratops prorsus weighing 
at thirty-two(32) pounds, with a note reading, "Consider yourself 
lucky." 


Notes: Hatchling ceratopsid is currently under care and study at Dr. 
's office. Displays healthy growth. 


Experiment 702-034 


Cimmerian headed back to Site-17 the next morning. They'd have to 
catch up to him there. 


Kent, for his part, seemed equal parts reverent and curious. He 
hadn't asked any questions yet, but Cimmerian could tell they were 
on the tip of the man's tongue. 


"You seem like you've got something on your mind, Kent." 


"Yes sir." Kent paused, before looking at Cimmerian in the rear view 
mirror. "| heard from a friend that you took out half the incursion on 
your own with a single grenade." 


Cimmerian blinked twice and chuckled. This, he thought, this is how 
those kinds of stories start. 


Kent snapped his eyes back to the road. 


"Well," Cimmerian began, "| can't talk about it, but that seems 
incredibly unlikely." 


"Yes, sir," Kent answered. 


Cimmerian was sure he could've gotten away with telling the truth, 
but what was the truth anyway? 


That the other half of the hostiles had died trying to get into 2343's 
cell? Why did the teams go straight for Aloha-Nine candidates? 
What was 2343 doing on the lists in the first place? It was basically a 
god, there's no way anyone would have approved it for Alpha-Nine. 


There were leaks and subterfuge and danger around every corner. 
This was exactly the kind of shit he'd been avoiding during his entire 
tenure with the Foundation. 


"Hey Kent," Cimmerian said, sighing. "Could you turn the radio on?" 
Kent nodded and pressed the power button. 


Norman Greenbaum. Cimmerian thought as he hummed along, 
Prepare yourself, you know it's a must. You gotta have a friend in 
Jesus. 


¢ Memories can be fuzzy, so if there are important 
details, don't wait to be asked, write them down! 


¢ If you or one of your friends had direct contact with 
either an escaped SCP object or a hostile intruder, 
report it to your superior! 


¢ Once a containment breach ends, follow the four 
R's. Re-contain, reclaim, remember and record! 
After the site has been cleaned up, your 
debriefings will help prevent future breaches. 


* Sometimes problems are systemic and recurring. 
Breaches rarely happen just once. 


~ Recovering from a Containment Breach; The Four R's 
and More Tips. 


Dr. Light's temporary office was spartan, but she... she was 
anything but laconic. Cimmerian knew he was going to end up here. 
He'd met her when he was first assigned to the project, and she'd 
seemed pleasant enough. A bit secretive, but she used to be a site 
director. That came with the territory. 


After the breach at Site-88, he'd been stuck trying to explain the 
events to five different people before this meeting. It wasn't like Light 
could even fire him, he wasn't in her chain of command. The Ethics 
Committee, though, would only take so much of a personality 
conflict before it tried someone else who was equally good at the 
job, but more agreeable. Cimmerian had seen it happen to others. 
Hell, he'd been the replacement before. 


"Why do you think you're here?" she asked pointedly. 


"Well. | get the feeling you're going to tell me | won't be flying 
commercial anymore." 


"Funny. Yes, that's definitely true. But what | really need to know is 
what you didn't tell security about the breach." 


Ahh, Cimmerian thought. That's what this is about. 


Cimmerian crossed his legs and laughed. "2343." 
"When did you figure it out?" 


"After the first debriefing. Prancer walked into a kill-box dressed up 
as a containment cell. What | want to know is how you got that past 
Maddox." 


"Maddox still believes that 2343 is an Alpha-Nine candidate. The 
engineering teams have been making some modifications to his site 
that he's not been briefed on yet." 


"You figure he's a mole?" 


"Not until the breach hit 2343. That was a false flag we planted in his 
lists. We've modified everyone's now, but until the morning after the 
breach he was the only one who thought 2343 was a possible 
candidate." 


"Smart. Why isn't he in a cell right now?" 


"We want to see what he does next. I'd love to say ‘better the devil 
you know' but we think he's worse than a mole. He's a pawn." 


Cimmerian blinked. "Wait. Who uses Site Directors as pawns?" 
Light stopped and smiled. 


An O5. It had to be. An O5 had executed or at least helped plan a 
breach of a Foundation site. Cimmerian's eyes widened slightly. 
"No. There's no way."