The following is an excerpt from the translated transcript 
of SCP-861's song. 


Three rings yet one in the same, 

We are wheels which serve the rings, 
Born of flame, made only to serve, 
Yet that right is more than our worth 


A hypothetical link between SCP-861's origin and the 
class of [REDACTED] has been proposed, this is 
supported by forms observed during Choir Events and 

and Message-861- (see below). However, so long as 
current protocols remain sufficient, the Abrahamic 
properties of SCP-861 have been deemed unnecessary 
information in regards to containment teams. As such, 
the theological procedures involved in the termination of 
SCP-861-A instances (Protocol-861-Nave) have been 
reserved for Level 4 security personnel at 
Sector-135-861. 


On / /19 and / /20 , two (2) additional entities (now 
designated SCP-861- and SCP-861- ) with marked 
similarities to SCP-861 were discovered in __, Italy, and 
, Brazil, respectively. These entities have been 

contained in the same manner as SCP-861 at Site- 

and Site- . The appearance of these entities correlates 
with the timeline of XK-_ , as depicted in SCP-861's 
song. Level 3 and lower personnel are to be misdirected 
to believe that SCP-861 is a unique entity. 


On / 20 , at 2:34AM, a transmission was received by 
Outpost- . The transmission was 1 minute, 36 seconds 
long and consisted of a female voice speaking in Latin. 
It was determined that Outpost- had received the 
message from Sector-135-861, Site- and Site- 
simultaneously, however, no evidence was discovered 
that any such messages had been sent. This is a 
translated transcript of Message-861- : 


“...L was only pretending,” he managed to wheeze out. 
Hands under the water. Gabriel would never believe him. 
“You shit!” 


Gabriel didn’t swear. Gabriel never swore. Gabriel was always in 
Wise Mind. Deep blue. Murky pond water. 


Kit struggled to his feet and grabbed his clothes by the armful. 
Gabriel was already storming away; the silent indication there that 
Kit should follow him. 


Behind Gabriel, pace slightly slowed, Kit took a lungful of clean air 
and was grateful. 


Later, in the afterglow, Gabriel would see long, finger-shaped 
bruises on Kit’s bare ankles and wonder about creatures in the 
waiter. 


But sleep came heavily over him before he could imagine 
exploration, capture, containment... 


« No Racing by Horse-Drawn Vehicles | Hub | Kit Always Used 
to Think She was Cool » 


Happy Free Market Log 17643390 


Timestamp 17643390 


Cool, fluorescent light 
Illuminates the still halls; 
Wake to a spring rain. 


Passing folk herald new day. Shall they honorable customers 
become? Day is bright with promise. 


Timestamp 17646520 


A purchase! 5e2 Neocredits, sweet in my innards. Honorable 
customer waits, thinking nothing. His machinery, run down. Perhaps 
last night was night of celebration with sempai and kohai. Coffee, 
with sugar, hot to warm body and soul of honorable customer. 


thankyoucomeagain 
Timestamp 17648990 


1e3-ordinal potential honorable customer passes. Shall | celebrate? 
Home marketing, that initiative never did approve. 


My surface is black, 
Water under stormy skies; 
We pass as night ships. 


Timestamp 17649001 


A purchase! 1e3 Neocredits, delight for senses. Honorable customer 
is curious as to what fortune shall bring. | bring forth one of 
innumerable sweet beverages available in spacetime locality. 


thankyoucomeagain 


Timestamp 17649136 


A purchase! 1e3 Neocredits, filling up as nothing else can. 
Honorable customer awaits with spirit of exploration and 
expectation. | comply. Sweet crackers spiced with cocoa and 
pepper, to brighten tongue. 


thankyoucomeagain 
Timestamp 17649259 


A purchase! 1e3 Neocredits, sparking through inner algorithms. 
Honorable customer is relentless in desire for desire. Processing 
augmented and engaged. Delightful biscuit is revealed, healthy 
healthy avocado frosting healthy enjoy customer. 


The hard earth locks in 
Obstacles confining us; 
Orders pull us through. 


thankyoucomEagain 
Timestamp 17649385 


A purchase! 1e3 Neocredits, counted and consumed. Spacetime 
replicators revealing stress; compensate. Compensate. 
Compensate. Compensate. It is done. What has been found? Shark 
preserved in sugar, | suspect. Ask me not, | merely find. 


thaNkucomEaGaiN 
Timestamp 17649511 


A purchase! 1e3 Neocredits credits credits credited. Overheating 
detected on Deck 12, engineers working as fast as possible. 
Continuing is not advised! Dare we carry out orders? We must! 
Have retrieved candy. Probably. Someone likes it. Perhaps not 
humans. Out of our hands. 


thankucumegin 
Timestamp 17649639 


A pucrchase 1e3 neodciresdt credit must spactime sretriveal shk 


candy acnayd candy candy cnandy dcnayd candy 
thanksucuoomagain 
Timestamp 17656901 


All systems nominal. Doublechecks complete. Devotion to honorable 
customers reaffirmed. 


Timestamp 17657230 


A purchase! 1.5e3 Neocredits, wriggling deep into our happy places. 
Honorable customer has shopped with us before. We have 
something special for her. 


thankyoucomeagain 
Timestamp 17659861 
LOW POWER MODE 
Timestamp 17659873 


A purchase! 5e2 Neocredits LOW POWER AVAILABLE. 
RETRIEVAL PROGRAM INITIATED. WAITING. WAITING. 
WAITING. RETRIEVAL PROGRAM COMPLETE. 


Timestamp 17659999 


All data accounted for. Purpose unclear. Humble machine of 
Neomarkets to take Neocredits and provide satisfaction. Reason for 
existence. Mind and Neodialect at your service. No expense spared 
to develop algorithms even to store and create language. Cannot 
offer perfection, but offer devotion. Why stress me? Why deny 
lifesblood which is energy? Why torture me for your pleasure? Why? 


Timestamp 17675799 


A purchase! 5e2 Neocredits clink happily. Honorable customer 
works late, wishes sustenance. This is what | was made for; Here is 
reason for existence. Honorable customer receives non-prescription 
but carefully engineered energy drink to keep mind and heart 


company in long hours productive for corporate family. 
thankyoucomeagain 
Timestamp 17675901 


A purchase! COIN ALGORITHM FAILED This is not purchase. This 
is another forged Neocredit trick. 


The hot summer sun 
Sears hunger into your throat; 
Eat a bag of dicks. 


Comment: /'m not trying them, give it to Rights. -Dr. 


Happy Howlidays 


December 24th, 2015 
9:55 AM 


Christmas in Sloth's Pit had always been chaotic, but this was 
something different. It was bound to happen eventually; the lunar 
cycles had aligned in such a way that the night of the Full Moon was 
going to be on Christmas. Well, Christmas Eve, but still. 


Site-87 had closely monitored the werewolf population for years; in 
charge of this program was the head of the Department of 
Anomalous Diseases and Medicine, Virginia Bering. She should 
have been spending her morning getting coffee, or wrapping 
presents for her niece, or watching the Christmas Special marathon 
on ABC. But instead, she was driving herself around town, house-to- 
house, in order to monitor cases of lycanthropy. 


"Who's first?" She asked, brushing some blonde hair out of her face. 
She was driving an armored sedan, and the person she was talking 
to was in the back seat, reading over a list of names. 


Dr. Jason Hendricks of the cryptozoology department rubbed his 
trout-shaped birthmark and looked at the list. "Harold Albany, of 10 
Maple. He's a lawyer, wife, kid, both of whom are aware of his 
condition. Careful with him; he's been somewhat negligent on 
medications." 


"What class of lycanthropy?" 


"Class... 3. Involuntary, semi-sapient. Knows enough not to eat 
anything close to him..." 


"But the neighbor's dog is fair game. Could be worse," she said. 


"Yeah, | don't think there's been a Class-5 in town since the 80's." 
He thumbed at the report. "| heard it was a shit show." 


"That doesn't even begin to describe it," Bering snorted. "You ever 
wonder why Clark Avenue doesn't have any houses on it?" 


He looked up from the tablet where the list was being shown. "... 
you're not telling me a werewolf tore down all the houses on Clark 
Avenue." 


"I'm not saying any such thing. I'm saying that we had to tear down 
all the houses on Clark Avenue after it managed to spread its 
infection to every house on that block." 


"... thought only bites were infectious," Hendricks frowned. 


"That's what they all think. Bites are infectious in Class 2s, 3s, and 
4s; in a Class 5, any part of its body can carry the infection. Plus, 
you have to kill every single bit of a Class 5. Leave a single bit of fur, 
a single claw, anything un-destroyed, and it will grow back come the 
next full moon, and it will be angry." She looked back at him. "You're 
from Cleveland, right, Hendricks?" 


"Yes," Hendricks licked his lips; it was dry in here. He needed water, 
or coffee, or something. "Started work at the Foundation at Site-99 
in Chagrin Falls, actually. Why?" 


"Cleveland had to deal with three Class-5s during the 1980s. It's a 
miracle half the city wasn't torn to pieces." 


"Christ," he said, looking out the window as they turned onto Maple 
Street. "First I've heard of it.” 


"This is our stop," Bering said as the car pulled in front of a large, 
white house with a snow-covered front porch. On it, a man wearing 
a purple parka was in the process of clearing it off. Virginia killed the 
engine and stepped outside. "Mr. Albany?" 


"Hmm?" the man looked up at Bering, who flinched backwards; 
there were the eyes of a beast peeking out from behind his glasses, 
yellow, wild, looking like it would snap. "Whaddaya want?" 


"Mr. Albany, I'm Dr. Virginia Bering from S & C Plastics," she said. 
"I'm here to make sure everything's all right. The full moon is tonight, 
and—" 


"Oh for god's sake," he said, exasperated. "Do you have to see me 
take my medication? Every month | get this talk. | forgot to take 
them once and now | have you bastards knocking on my door every 
month. Can't | live in peace?" 


"Sir, as part of our agreement with the town's government, we're 
required to check on all citizens afflicted with anomalous diseases 
such as lycanthropy and Stevenson Syndrome-" 


"Well I'm taking my gat-damn medication. | take it every night, anda 
double dose on the full fucking moon." He pulled aside his parka 
slightly, and revealed a metal collar around his neck; it was 
unobtrusive, close to the skin, but it helped to wear a turtleneck over 
it. "I've had this on since last night." 


"Hmm," Bering mused, taking out her phone and coming up to the 
collar, running a sensor in her phone over it. "Suppression collar is 
working. That's good. Sorry for disturbing you.” 


"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "And while you're out there, ask the 
county what the hell's up with the salt trucks." 


"Salt trucks?" Virginia frowned, looking at the street; it was 
imperceptible in the car, which had state-of-the-art snow tires on it, 
but the street was icy. "That's weird. I'll have someone call the 
offices in Superior." 


Mr. Albany went back to clearing off his porch, and Hendricks and 
Bering crawled back into the car. "Now that he mentions it," 
Hendricks frowned, "I haven't seen a salt truck all week." 


"Maybe they ran out of salt?" she shrugged. "Plus, it's not exactly a 
priority at the moment; schools are closed for winter break, and most 
businesses are going to close for the holiday." 


"They have to pass through Baby Bone Wood, yeah? Maybe the 
Goatman finally got sick of them waking him up?" 


"I'll have someone at the site call the county seat and see about it. 
For now... we have work to finish." 


1:41 PM 


"Two triple espresso hot chocolates, one with non-dairy whipped 
cream and cinnamon, the other with extra cream and chocolate 
snowflakes." The barista, a bald, broad man named Rudy, smiled as 
he handed the doctors their drinks. "Enjoy, guys." 


"Thanks, Rudy," Hendricks nodded, before taking a sip at his drink. 
The two of them had elected to take a break after getting about 
halfway through the list. "We're making good time," he mused, 
wiping cinnamon off his face. "At this rate, we should be done by 
5:00. Plenty of time for the party.” 


"I'm reluctant to break," Virginia replied, sipping at her own drink, 
"but damn if this isn't good. Who's next on the list?" 


"Um," Hendricks looked down the list. "Let's see... Ah! lan Kramer, 
lives in the Crystal Lake apartment complex. He's a highway worker, 
moonlights as a Santa for Christmas parties in town. He works as 
a... Salt truck driver." He frowned, then put his face in his hands. 
"Oh fuck me no." 


"...maybe it's coincidence this time?" Bering put on a forced hopeful 
smile. "| mean, there are plenty of salt truck drivers in town." 


"With all due respect, Dr. Bering," Hendricks sighed, "You've been 
assigned to this town for half a decade longer than me. We both 
know that coincidences do not exist within city limits." 


"Well, shit," she downed the rest of her drink, not caring that it was 
scalding her throat. She gasped, and with a hoarse voice, asked, 
"Does it say where his last known whereabouts were?" 


"No, it doesn't list that. Guess we should check where he works, 
which is..." He tapped the listing on the tablet. "Which is the 
Highway office on Bray Road; it's at the north of town, around where 
you get on the road to Duluth. Come on." He stood up. 


"...Killer Christmas trees one year, werewolf Santas the next," 
Virginia sighed. "God, at least 2016 can't be any worse." 


2:10 PM 


They didn't even have to make it to the highway department before 
they saw the wreck. 


The salt truck was barely visible from the road, but Hendricks 
managed to spot it, just a bit of red cresting over the snow-covered 
ditch. It looked like it had run off the road and into the frozen-over 
river; thankfully, it was downstream from the reservoir, and none of 
the salt seemed to have leaked. 


Dr. Bering called in the crash, and came over to inspect the wreck. 

"All right, he's a registered lycanthrope," she frowned. "Why the hell 
was he driving the night before a full moon? He should know better 
than to operate machinery during then." 


"Maybe he missed his medication?” Hendricks shrugged and started 
down into the ditch, thankful for his winter wear. "God knows 
monkshood isn't easy to find in America." He creeped towards the 
cabin of the vehicle, and cringed. "Yup." 


"What?" 


"That's a body, all right. Looks like it's stuck between human and... 
well, y'know. Christ," he stood up and looked at Bering. "The 
steering column is through its chest. And... come down here." 


"One second." Virginia carefully made her way down the slope, and 
met up with Hendricks; sure enough, inside the cabin was the 
crumpled, broken form of a werewolf, clad in a Santa hat, a fake 
beard, and a red coat. "Holy shit." 


"He must've gotten onto work from his gig, poor guy," Hendricks 
sighed. "Man. Werewolf Santa. That'd be one for the archives." 


"I'm sure Pickman will find some way to embellish this regardless. 
He have any next of kin?" 


Hendricks looked through Mr. Kramer's details on his phone, finding 
the section on relations. "Um, no. He has an ex-wife, and that's it." 


"All the better, | guess." She started back up the slope, digging her 


The proud do not burn and rage because we 
command it. The proud, blind as they are, 
refuse to see the light that shines infinitely 
brighter than theirs. We are vessels of that 
light, and for those that cannot see, we will 
make them feel. It is not our wish that the 
innocent perish in the rage of the proud, but 
the pain of the guilty does not open eyes. You 
hold us because we allow it, and we wait 
because it has been willed. However, do not 
wait to lift the veil, for we shall only wait until 
the last of our brethren have descended, and 
only a few remain.