Half way across town, Kit woke up with a fountain pen stuck to the 
side of his face, and three - no, four - pieces of paper scrunched up 
into balls in his hands. Faintly, he remembered writing something 
about someone, but, as always, had decided against posting it. He 
never wanted to display the way he chose to communicate, but 
something about writing made him feel less empty inside. He 
watched Peaches stride across the room, nuzzle his cheek, and 
bother the pen off his cheek. The kitten was right. Best to keep it to 
himself. 


« Kit's Brotherhood | Hub | Kit's Horror Hospital of Horror» 


The Easily Defeated Meets the Completely Harmless 


Researcher Russell was exhausted. 


It hadn't just been his job, but also the knowledge that any day now 
his wife could go into labor. While that wasn't something he dreaded 
- after all, what was wrong with becoming a father? - he did dread 
the constant pestering of her family. Especially her mother. On top 
of having to ensure she didn't learn of what he actually did for a 
living, her overbearing insistence that she knew how best to care for 
a pregnant woman was unwanted, to put it lightly. 


While these thoughts were on his mind, SCP-705 was safely tucked 
away in its container. Well, even if it was out of the plastic box it 
would be harmless, but too much of a hindrance. A minor one, 
barely worth noticing, but still a hindrance. Researcher Russell was 
absentmindedly toying with the container, occasionally flicking the lid 
off just barely before snapping it shut again. It provided him some 
amusement on this boring assignment, as he had no desire to let it 
out. 


"Researcher Russell, please report to the break room." 


"Finally," he muttered, thankfully to have something to do at last. 
However, his mind was preoccupied with how what to do if his wife 
did go into labor and how to get her mother to stay away, so he 
didn't notice that he had left the lid open more than usual. 


How dare they mock him?! Didn't they understand that he was the 
Grand Destroyer, the One Who Would Stop The Motor Of The 
World? Like the small, robotic man he was, he grumpily trundled 
down the halls to locate some annoying flesh creature whose ankles 
he could easily latch onto and snap like a twig! Thank goodness 
they had so foolishly left his prison open! 


When he heard muttering, he paused in his childish stomping and 


SCP-956 has recently begun to show locomotion outside of testing. 
It began to wander around its containment, tracing the perimeter of 
the room. It did this for about an hour before staring at a spot on the 
wall. Review of footage shows that it's faced this wall after 
deactivating during previous tests. Security has confirmed that 
SCP-956 is facing directly towards an elementary school. That 
schoolis kilometers away. Reclassification to Euclid status 
requested. 

Dr. N 


Reclassification to Euclid granted. If its effects appear to reach 
beyond its containment, it is to be transferred to Site- , which should 
keep it far enough away from potential victims. Retrieve any 
paralyzed victims or SCP-956-1, and administer Class A amnestics 
to witnesses and family. We don't need any more of these things 
around. 

O5- 


« SCP-955 | SCP-956 | SCP-957 » 


devised what can only be described, as he saw it, the most 
ingenious murder ever crafted by a being such as himself - given 
there weren't really any beings like him, one could suppose he was 
right. Not that it really did him any favors. 


Craftily hiding behind a botanic organism, similar to a most 
dangerous opponent who would feel his burning vengeance at later 
date, he couldn't help chuckling to himself as he prepared to push it 
over, thus tripping the flesh creature and giving him the means to 
gouge out their eyes. He hadn't exactly taken into account several 
other variables, of course. 


One such variable was currently stalking him, assembling a large 
army in preparation to attack. 


It had been Private Ryan who had first sighted the large, mechanical 
being which was plainly an enemy of his glorious people. Without 
hesitation, he alerted the rest of his squadron to the enemy's 
location, who then radioed the information back to command. The 
moment command had received the information, they assembled a 
massive army. Several artillery pieces were loaded and moved out, 
moving into formation behind a large number of infantry divisions, 
tanks, and attack helicopters. As the assembled force advanced to 
destroy this new enemy, they were miraculously unobserved by 
anyone who could have stopped them. 


And so the stage was set for a rather underwhelming battle of 
dismal proportions. 


Being a janitor for the Foundation wasn't the worst job in the world, 
but it was certainly a very interesting one. 


For Richard, learning the ins and outs of this job had been very 
exciting. There were so many interesting people he could and had 
talked to, though some of them could be most rude. Knowing who 
and what to avoid was key to staying alive. "Just don't end up 
working for the gecko, Richie," he muttered to himself, "orange blob 
is the way to go.” 


As he continued to sweep the floor with his extra large broom, he 


thought he could faintly hear the sounds of what could only be 
described as tiny, whirring cackles faintly drowned out by small, 
squishy footsteps, both of which were coming from just around the 
next corner. Before he had a moment to ponder this, the cackles 
turned into high pitched shrieks of surprise and rage, followed by a 
series of curses. Alarmed, Richard immediately rushed to see what 
had happened. 


What he saw...well, if hell could be described as a mildly 
discomforting experience where you were constantly kept awake by 
badly singing Venus flytraps while naked mole rats nibbled on your 
body with toothless gums, then he supposed it had broken loose. 


"CURSE YOU ALL! INSIGNIFICANT INSECTS! YOU'RE ALL 
NOTHING BUT PIECES OF BLOBS WHICH WILL BE CRUSHED 
UNDER MY MIGHTY FOOT! NONE CAN CHALLENGE THE 
GREAT AND TERRIBLE MOTOR STOPPER!" 


Said Motor Stopper was trundling towards the hundreds of 
thousands of clay soldiers as they harmlessly fired shells and bullets 
upon his metal casing. 


The soldiers were steadily moving back as their foe closed the 
distance, evading the pathetic swipes of the robot's claws. Incensed, 
the machine instead tried to stomp upon them only to trip on a slight 
lump in the floor and collapse onto the ground. Immediately the clay 
men swarmed atop him as he tried to right himself, screaming and 
roaring as he grabbed at them, twisting this way and that. The soft 
clay explosions of several grenades and planted explosives made 
him stagger backward but this time he did not fall. Instead, with all 
the fury he could muster, he charged through towards the tanks 
which whose missiles pattered against his chest. 


Richard leaned on his broom, taking out his smartphone to record 
this most absurd display. He simply couldn't let this pass. SCP-1370 
was in the middle of a horde of clay men, with attack helicopters 
swarming around his head like mosquitos. Richard wondered who 
had left the lid of 705 open. He would have to thank them later. 


For the next hour, the struggle continued with neither clay nor 


machine gaining the upper hand, locked in a harmless stalemate. 
Richard put away his phone when it reached the recording limit, 
shaking his head in disbelief. Doubtless, the cameras were 
capturing this circus. 


At some point, both sides slowed down, breaking off the 
engagement to regroup and plan. However, for 1370, a new plan 
was devised when he saw the amused janitor. He turned sharply to 
the clay men. 


"Tell me," he bellowed, "are you enemies with those flesh 
creatures?" He jabbed his claw at Richard, who raised an eyebrow. 


The clay, now noticing his presence, seemed to confer among 
themselves for a few moments. Finally, one of them stepped 
forward, carrying a small clay megaphone. When he held it up to his 
mouth, he answered in his most authoritative voice. "Yes! Why do 
you ask?" 


"Then let us cease our battle for now! We are both clearly mighty 
combatants! Together, we could easily overwhelm-" 


When Researcher Russell returned, accompanied by his compatriot 
Doctor Margin, they were attracted to the sounds of what could 
barely be considered carnage. What they discovered was a janitor 
using an extra large broom to batter 1370 and several instances of 
705, leaving the clay force in tatters as they attempted to mount a 
full retreat. 1370 was screaming again, clutching its head as he was 
pushed onto the ground by the might of bristles, plastic, and a very 
amused janitor. By the time Richard's successful attack on both had 
ended, the remains of a large clay army lay strewn on the floor while 
the would-be robotic conqueror was once more pinned to the ground 
by a potted plant. 


"What in the world is going on here?" Doctor Margin cried out in 
disbelief. 


Richard, who had been surveying the aftermath of his prowess with 
satisfaction, turned around to see both men staring wide-eyed. He 
smiled and saluted. "Nothing to worry about here. Just dealing with 
a containment breach." 


Once everything was explained and sorted out, the only question left 
was how 1370 had gotten a copy of Atlas Shrugged. 


The End is the Beginning is the End 


Temporal Causality Report C-4295 
Incident 9A-4295 - Investigative Conclusion 

Per Communications Protocol Delta-7, this report, all 
attachments, and the associated personnel file are to 
remain secured and indexed until at least 2235/01/01. 


It is the determination of our team that the following 
transmission poses no current or future threat to 
Foundation security. Analysis of the corrupt data string 
found a mundane communications error due to 
incompatibility between systems; no form of encrypted 
hazard was present, and Memetics found no other trace 
of anomalous content. Information contained within 
remains classified per relevant projects. Copies of the full 
report! submitted to directors of Site-102, Site-122, and 
Armed Site-47 for further review. 


+ Discovery 


Interviewed: Clarence Goodson, 
Site-102 Systems Maintenance 
Interviewer: Agent M. Daniels, 
Causative Analytics Department 
RE: Routine systems purge: 
2012/05/08 


<Begin Log> 

Agent Daniels: Temporal Agent M. 
Daniels, following Protocol TC-1.57 
upon discovery of Anachronistic 
Communications Document C9-4295. 
Please identify yourself for the 
record. 


Clarence Goodson: Clarence 


Goodson, Systems Technician 102- 
d2, Special Clearance Level Bravo 4/ 
Mining. 


Daniels: Thank you. We're here to 
discuss your acquisition of the article 
in question, on the date of May the 
eighth, two thousand and twelve. It is 
our understanding that you came 
upon the document by accident? 


Goodson: Well...sort of. You see, | 
was just cleaning out all of the junk 
our servers gathered over the last 
four months, same as we do every 
four months. | found that little gem 
squirreled away in the reboot entries; 
we can't delete those, ya know. And 
so | thought "Oh boy, here's that 
bonus I've been needing!" So | 
extracted it, and dropped it into the 
queue for removal. 


Daniels: Without verifying the 
contents as suitable for a purge? 


Goodson: Of course not! I'm not 
incompetent; my record reflects that, 
at least. | followed all of the standard 
procedures, ran it through all the 
filters. It was just a note, with an error 
string, which seemed to be from the 
poor indexing. We see it all the time; 
personnel try to hide their private 
notes from their supervisors. They do 
a pretty good job of it, too, but I've 
reported more than one incident to 
HR in my time. 


Daniels: But not this time. 


Goodson: No, not once | read it. 


Daniels: For clarification, you admit 
to having read the contents of the 
document? 


Goodson: Yes, | opened the file after 
it was cleared by the system, and 
read its contents. 


Daniels: Are you aware that is in 
direct violation of Procedure Omni- 


Goodson: Yes! Yes, | know, I'm not 
supposed to do that. But look, my job 
is boring, okay? I'm cleared to know 
enough of what goes on to be 
fascinated, and I'm stuck making sure 
the servers are free of cookies! It's 
harmless enough, you know? Agent 
Thirteen sneaks off with Researcher 
X every time he's on-site; Dr. Theta's 
wife is pregnant, and they're naming 
their son Rex. It passes the time. I'm 
aware of the consequences, but at 
this point, what does it matter? The 
shit | know is so far beyond my pay- 
grade | won't be allowed to remember 
it anyway; | might as well come 
clean. 


Daniels: | see. And upon reading the 
document? 


Goodson: | reported it to your 
department, was detained on-site - 
voluntarily | might add - for something 
like five hours, and then was brought 
here to you. 


Daniels: Thank you, Mr. Goodson. 


That will be all. 
<End Log> 


Concluding Statement: /t is my 
opinion that Mr. Goodson poses no 
overt risk to Foundation security, and 
that he be administered appropriate 
amnestics and reassigned to physical 
maintenance. -Agent M. Daniels 


+ Anachronistic Communications Document C9-4295 


Note: Corrupted data string removed for clarity 
following mundane determination. 


Mitzy,2 


My name is Ezekial Young, and | am 
the Vice-Chief Engineer aboard the 
Foundation vessel SCPS Mendel. 
Our mission is to secure the future of 
humanity, to contain our species' 
unique and beautiful genome, and to 
protect, if not ourselves, our posterity, 
from oblivion. A virulent plague 
spread through our populace, 
ultimately rendering humanity 
infertile. We found a way to save 
ourselves. Five hundred embryos, 
genetically engineered, will be carried 
into the future, and when our systems 
reactivate and bring them out of 
stasis, humanity can continue. 


If only we'd known. 


We've neutralized as many of the 
horrors as we could, and locked the 
rest away, buried under tonnes of 
concrete and will. We thought it 
enough, and the least that we could 


do. But as a result, the shattered 
remains of our database is open, and 
in my research, | discovered the 
truth. In our haste to save ourselves, 
we have doomed any hope we had 
for survival. | have no doubt it was 
unintentional; details which were 
once so important fall to the 
background when faced with a true 
crisis. Despite my urgings, willfully 
ignorant of my desperate pleas and 
the magnitudes of evidence 
presented, my superiors elected to 
continue with our mission. But we 
were doomed from the start. 


Find a way to access the database at 
your Site-47; study the 
documentation on Determinative Set 
XN. It was always believed to be the 
best possible future, the only viable 
continuity, and one of utmost 
importance to bring about. And it 
remained so, even after all others 
collapsed following the onset of the 
plague. They saw us launch, and 
watched as we returned home. It 
seemed clear enough, and as the 
resources of the Foundation were 
pulled, one by one, to further our 
project, -2003 shut down. They never 
saw the end. But | have seen it. 


We missed one, and it was one of 
our own creations: Scranton Reality 
Anchors. 


Utilizing physics we didn't truly 
understand was always a risk, and 
one that the Foundation judged 


acceptable. Same as our drive.