█-██-███: While its shape shifting abilities proved to be of some interest for a time, as other shape shifting SCPs were discovered, and after study in to the extreme amount of damage it can cause to both electronic objects, as well as organic matter from the large amounts of radiation it produces, it was determined that SCP-135 was no longer of use to the Foundation. After many decades in deep storage, 135 was slated for decommissioning by unanimous consensus of all current 05s.
Dr. Iceberg, having learned of this through unknown channels, promptly requested “the rights to kill the motherfucker before Clef gets it.”
Decommissioning Day 1:
Ok, so I've noticed.
You know how Clef was beat up and shit after the fighting with Kon and 239 and stuff? But then he got back in the good spotlight after he decommed 531? Both he and Kon are both dicks, but they have nice Level 4 jobs. I do hard work, and what do I get? Level 2. Why? They destroy stuff. I can't believe I didn't see it before. To get a promotion, I simply have to decom a dangerous, worthless SCP item. And it just happens, as I was looking through files on the network, I found one. 135. A shapeshifter, destroys electronics, and produces multiple types of radiation. Something about Roswell, but please. Everyone knows how that shit really went down. Now, step one. Figure out how to kill it.

Day 2:
Nevermind, first step is getting the job. As always, high-and-mighty-killer-of-all Clef is the one being considered for it. I'll simply have to send them papers showing off my credentials. Easy enough, just need to slip in a few pages with some reports. Luckily, Kondraki just gave me some pages that will work perfectly.

Day 5:
Ok, that didn't work. Not only did I hear nothing, I actually got Gears asking me how I could mess up and get the wrong papers mixed in important reports to an 05. What the hell. Fine, let's play hardball. I'll slip in some demeaning things about Clef.

Day 6:
Odd. I still heard nothing. That, and someone shot my door with a shotgun. Bah. I didn't want to have to do this, but I guess I'll just to have ask them if I can do it.

Day 7:
Rejection. I thought it only hurt when it was women. But no. Shot down I was. Apparently because not only has the job been given to Clef, and he has accepted, but there's something about a slight “issue” I caused.
Or several.
Look, I did not know it still had fuel in it.
That one wasn't even my fault.
This one? I regret nothing.
Now, everyone thought this one was funny.
And those D-class had it fucking coming.
It seems I must take matters into my own hands. I don't have much time, but in my spare time I devised a method to destroy it. I need simply to get what I need and prepare the room. It's so simple and cheap, not to mention with so little destruction to anything else, they'll have to be impressed! Big leagues, here I come! Now, it'll take an all-nighter, so I better start. Clef could get around to this anytime.

At ███ hours SCP-135 was discovered missing.
At ███ hours its remains were found.
Video record of room ██ during ███ to ███ hours.
The room is completely empty, and seemingly has no special features beyond its metal walls. Dr. Iceberg enters the room, wearing a heavy coat, of the style used by agents working in low temperature environments or with SCPs capable of influencing temperature, a bag and an oxygen tank. Behind him in is a man later confirmed as D-██-2348. Note breach of Foundation policy.

Audio Log recorded on ██-██-████, ████:██:██

[Unrelated talking]
D-class: And what the hell are you wearing?
Dr. Iceberg: A suit. Upgrade on the technology NASA based their space suits on.
[At this point, Dr. Iceberg hooked himself up to the oxygen tank and pulled on the hood of the suit up. Several seconds later, a common handgun is thrown into the room. Object lands near D-██-2348's feet, and soon transforms into a copy of the man.]
D-class: What th-
Dr. Iceberg: Come on, Haven't seen something stranger? You've been here a month ain't ya?
D-class: Yeah, well-
Dr. Iceberg: Eh, doesn't matter. Just stay quiet and you'll be free to go in no time. Hm… push it back a couple feet. So, 135, you able to talk?
[3 minutes of silence, with 135 simply copying D-██-2348]
Dr. Iceberg: No last words then? Ah, well. Good bye you, hello promotion.
[Dr. Iceberg holds up and presses a bright blue button, at which point a small ball of ice shoots from the ceiling onto 135's “head”, and soon begins turning into a gas]
D-class: And that is?
135: [Unintelligible language]
Dr. Iceberg: A solid nitrogen snowball.

Multiple holes open up above, below, and to either side of 135 and D-██-2348, pelting both with large amounts of solid and liquid nitrogen. After █ minutes 57 seconds, this ceases. Dr. Iceberg turns and opens his bag, pulling out a “sawn-off” shotgun.

Dr. Iceberg: Man, have I ever wanted to do this.

[Dr. Iceberg aims the gun at the frozen figures, spinning the gun on its trigger before firing both loaded shots, shattering both. After checking the pieces, he walks over to the door, and attempts to open it. After initial failure, he is noted to shout.]

Dr. Iceberg: Oh damnit! Door froze….. Help! Hey, someone out there! Come on, I just need someone to open the door!